#ghosts that broke my heart before i met you

[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

He meets your brothers

You stretched out on the couch, a lazy smile on your lips as you watched your younger brothers bicker over the video game.

“Mate, you’re absolute trash at this,” your youngest brother groaned, tossing his controller onto the coffee table.

“Oh, shut up,” the other scoffed. “Like you did any better.”

You chuckled, sipping your drink. It had been a long time since the three of you had spent a proper sibling day together. With life pulling you in different directions—your work, their own responsibilities, and the fact that you had a relationship now—these moments were rare.

And Simon was away on a mission. Again.

You missed him, but at least today had been a good distraction. You’d spent the evening catching up, watching movies, drinking, and stuffing yourselves with junk food.

The clock was creeping toward midnight, and you were just about to declare a rematch when the sound of the front door unlocking made you freeze.

Your brothers went quiet too, eyes darting to the door. You felt your heart leap into your throat—only one person had a key to your place.

The door swung open, and there he was.

Simon.

Dressed in his usual dark gear, his mask pushed up just enough to reveal his strong jawline. His eyes immediately sought you out, dark and intense, and you felt the breath hitch in your throat.

“Simon?” you breathed, already moving toward him. “What—”

“Mission wrapped up early,” he murmured, his voice low and rough from exhaustion. “Didn’t feel like spending the night on base.” His eyes softened slightly as he reached for you, his gloved hand settling on your waist. “Missed you.”

Warmth spread through you, and you leaned into him without hesitation. “I missed you too.”

A loud, exaggerated cough broke the moment.

“Uh, hello?” your youngest brother piped up, eyebrows raised. “Are we just gonna ignore the fact that a giant masked man just walked into the apartment like it’s normal?”

You sighed, stepping back from Simon slightly but keeping close. “Right. Simon, these are my younger brothers.” You turned to them with a smirk. “Boys, this is Simon.”

The older of the two narrowed his eyes slightly, crossing his arms. “So this is the guy, huh?”

Simon tensed subtly beside you, clearly already assessing the situation like it was a battlefield. “Yeah. That a problem?”

Your youngest brother, the more reckless of the two, smirked. “Depends. You treating our sister right?”

Simon’s hand on your waist flexed slightly, and you knew he was fighting the urge to say something cocky. But instead, he simply met their gazes head-on. “Better than anyone ever could.”

Your stomach flipped at the certainty in his tone.

The boys exchanged a look before your older brother sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright. I’ll admit, that was a decent answer.”

Your youngest grinned. “Still gonna have to test him, though.” He nodded toward the gaming console. “You any good?”

Simon arched a brow. “At what?”

“Video games.”

You bit your lip, looking up at Simon. “You don’t have to—”

But Simon was already moving toward the couch. He plopped down, grabbing a controller with an air of confidence that had both of your brothers watching warily. “Load it up.”

You hid your smile as your brothers scrambled to set up the game, a competitive energy filling the room.

Simon leaned back, glancing at you with that familiar spark in his eyes.

“I’ll win,” he murmured, low enough for only you to hear.

You shook your head, biting back a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

His gloved fingers brushed against yours briefly. “And you love it.”

Yeah. Yeah, you did.

You leaned against the armrest of the couch, watching the unfolding war between your brothers and Simon with barely concealed amusement.

The match had barely started, but already, the tension in the room was thick. Your younger brother was leaning forward, tongue poking out slightly in concentration, while your older brother had a deep frown of determination on his face. Meanwhile, Simon sat relaxed, one arm draped over the back of the couch, controller in hand, completely unbothered.

That should’ve been their first warning.

Because Simon *never* looked relaxed unless he was in full control.

“You sure you’ve never played this before?” your younger brother asked suspiciously as Simon’s character dodged yet another attack with effortless precision.

Simon made a noncommittal noise, barely sparing him a glance. “It’s not that different from actual tactics.”

Your older brother scoffed. “Yeah, alright, Ghost. Next you’re gonna tell us you use this in real life.”

Simon’s smirk was barely visible under the edge of his mask. “Not exactly. But I know how to predict an enemy’s next move.”

Before either of them could respond, Simon’s character executed a flawless combo, wiping out both of them in a matter of seconds.

Silence.

Then—

“Oh, *come on!*”

Your younger brother threw his hands up while your older brother groaned, running a hand down his face.

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing.

Simon just set the controller down, stretching slightly, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Nice try, lads.”

Your younger brother pointed at him accusingly. “You *lied!* You’ve totally played this before.”

“Not this game,” Simon said easily, leaning back. “But a fight’s a fight.”

Your older brother let out a dramatic sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, guess we know who’d be the last man standing in a zombie apocalypse.”

You smiled, reaching over to squeeze Simon’s arm. “I could’ve told you that.”

Simon hummed, glancing at you, eyes dark with something unreadable. His gloved fingers brushed over your knee, a barely-there touch, but one that sent warmth curling in your stomach.

Your younger brother, oblivious, grabbed another drink and flopped back into his seat. “Alright, so maybe you’re decent.”

Simon raised a brow. “Decent?”

Your older brother chuckled, clearly warming up to him now. “He means you’re good, but we can’t let you get a big head.”

Simon smirked. “Bit late for that, mate.”

You laughed again, watching as they settled into an easier rhythm.

It wasn’t long before the conversation started flowing more naturally. Your brothers started asking Simon about his job—not the classified details, of course, but the things he could share. He answered in his usual clipped manner, but you could tell he didn’t mind. And, surprisingly, he even asked them about their own lives, listening with genuine interest.

By the time the clock hit 2 a.m., the room had shifted from initial tension to something more comfortable. Your younger brother yawned, stretching. “Alright, I’m calling it. I’m beat.”

Your older brother nodded, standing and stretching as well. He shot Simon a look, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re alright, man.”

Simon tipped his chin in acknowledgment. “Likewise.”

Your youngest brother wasn’t as subtle—he gave you a look before jerking his thumb toward Simon. “I still don’t get what you see in him, but if he makes you happy, I guess I won’t fight him.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him playfully. “Like you could even if you tried.”

Simon chuckled lowly. “Smart lad.”

Your brothers gathered their things, giving you quick hugs before heading out, leaving you alone with Simon.

The moment the door shut, you let out a breath, turning to him with a raised brow. “Well? What do you think?”

Simon exhaled, his hands finding your waist, tugging you close. “They’re protective.”

You grinned. “That’s an understatement.”

“They care about you,” he murmured, voice softer now.

Your heart warmed. “Yeah. They do.” You tilted your head up at him. “And?”

He smirked, fingers trailing up your spine. “And I like ‘em.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “They like you too, you know.”

Simon hummed, running a gloved thumb along your jaw. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Your breath caught as he leaned down, lips ghosting over yours in a slow, teasing kiss. You melted into him, fingers gripping his shirt, the warmth of his body chasing away the late-night chill.

Yeah. Simon fit here. Maybe in his own rough, unpolished way—but he fit.

And that was all that mattered.

[starryylies]

What about Si with a reader who's giving him the silent treatment? I feel like at first he'd be like "fine whatever" but after like 10 minutes he begs his princess to talk to him

Silent treatment and Simon

Hii thank you sm for the ask! I loved writing it <33

Sorry if it got a bit self indulgent though.

It’s heavy on comfort so hope you enjoy!

You’ve been ‘off’ Simon could tell something’s going on but he couldn’t pin point why it’s going wrong.

Youve been ignoring him since he came home that night after his deployment, giving him short and curt greetings and replies a contrast to your sweet and elaborated ones.

He thought he’d let you deal with whatever you’re going through without butting in.

But no,

Just no

He couldn’t stand there and watch his baby look so down,

He couldn’t stand not hearing your sweet voice echo in the room.

He couldn’t stand the thought that you’re getting tired of him.

He was an overthinking wreck,

All possible ideas came to his mind as to why you’re ignoring him.

“Maybe she’s tired of me, ���m a fucking mess aren’t I.”

“Maybe she found someone else, someone her own age. Nah fuck no, she wouldn’t do that. Would she..?”

His mind was going on overdrive and he broke down.

And now he found himself marching up to your shared room where you sat on your bed watching a movie.

He turned off the movie and put you on his lap.

“Love what’s happenin’ whys my baby ignoring me huh? Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

“Are ya tired of me?”

He croaked out the last question, tears welling up in his eyes.

You looked at Simon as if you’d seen a ghost

“You really think I’ll be tired of you? I’m here thinking yr’ gonna be tired of me” you confessed with tears welling up in your eyes now.

“It’s just that, I know I can be a piece of work sometimes. I probably just make life harder for ya so I thought maybe keeping my mouth shut wouldn’t annoy ya like I annoy others.”

Simon is hurt to hear you say that, how could you think you annoy him. He fights to come home so he can listen to your sweet voice and look at that pretty face.

And who the fuck told you you’re annoying?

He holds it in him to ask that later because he doesn’t want to stray from the conversation going on but he makes a mental note to give them a personal visit when you’re done

“I don’t even know why you’re with me there’s so many people out there who are better, prettier, more competent.”

“I’m nothing si,I’m not the girl you make me out to be. I’m so scared of the day you start seeing me the way I see myself”

Simon felt his heart break in pieces when he heard you say such cruel things about yourself.

How could he feel okay when the love of his life thought so badly about herself

How could he show you you’re the prettiest and the only woman that matters in his life

“Ya fucking stupid?”

He asked curtly, regretting his harsh words the second he spit them out.

“Excuse me?”

“No genuinely are ya fucking stupid, you fucking think I’ll get tired of you- the first and the only thing that’s ever mattered to me?”

“Fuckin’ hell lovie you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve seen and yr’ important person in my life.”

“Ya think you make life tougher for me? Ever since you’ve come in my life you’ve made it liveable, you made life seem something worth experiencing, I was just blood and guns before I met you, now I’m a person”

“Fuck id kill for you, die for you, do anything for you. You seriously believe I’ll ever get tired of ya? Because if you do I’m sorry to say you’re a fuckin’ idiot”

Tears prickle down your face as you hear his confession,

You’ve been feeling so insecure, so incapable and so unlovable these past months when simon was away, you’d forgotten how much he loves you.

You cried into his chest, gripping onto him and nestling yourself in his arms.

His beefy arms rubbed your back as he cood at you, telling you how much he loves ya and how he will never get tired of you.

[crashandlivewrites]

Cherry Pie

A wondering happy birthday to my sweet Cherry @soapsgf who wanted some soft and sweet romantic smut with big dicked Simon. This one's for you, darling <33

Pairing: Simon Riley x fem!reader (Cherry)

Summary: It's been a while since you've been intimate with a partner, and Simon takes good care of you.

CW: MDNI 18+ content, NSFW, cunnilingus, fingering, consent checks, first time between partners, big dick Simon, unprotected piv, creampie

Word Count: 4.2k :))))

Simon was your first partner after a long, long stint of failed dates. You’d met him by chance, out one night with a group of friends when you’d bumped into a solid mass of muscle walking out of a bar. He’d caught you, set you right on your feet with a few words of being careful of your surroundings before seemingly melting into the shadows, despite his size. 

The next morning, you’d stopped by a local cafe. The barista called your name and you grabbed your drink, spinning around quickly only to have a heavy set of hands grip you tightly. Panicking for a moment, you looked up, ready to try and fight off your attacker, when you took in the strangely familiar face. 

“You’re… you…”

“That’s twice within twelve hours, sweetheart. Starting to think you’re making a habit of this.” His voice was accented, deep, and gravelly, making your hair stand on end. 

“I didn’t meant to— I’m sorry—” 

“It’s fine, doll. You couldn’t take me out even if you tried.” He huffed out a chortle at that and you felt your face shift into an expression of mild amusement. Then, with a surge of confidence you weren’t even aware you possessed, you met the heavy gaze of his dark eyes. 

“No, but I can give you my number, and then maybe you can take me out instead.” 

The man blinked, the smile still ghosting on his cheeks as he tilted his head, watching you. Suddenly, it felt like he was scrutinising every aspect of your appearance and you ducked your head, feeling your face heat. 

“Ah forget it, sorry, I just—” You’d moved to exit the cafe, but a firm arm wrapped around your waist. 

“I’ll take you up on that offer, if it’s still on the table.” Blinking in surprise, you looked up at him. One corner of his lips was twitched up into a smirk, his brow slightly raised and you couldn’t help but feel your lips pull into a grin as you nodded. 

“Name’s Simon.” He told you as you quickly scribbled your number on a piece of paper. As you handed it to him, he opened in and frowned slightly. “No name?” 

“Take me on that date, Simon, and you might be lucky enough to get it.” The smile that broke out on his face made your stomach flip, and somehow you knew this was the start of something. 

•

Several months down, you and Simon had settled into a steady routine. Whenever he was back from deployment, he slotted himself neatly into your life, as if he hadn’t missed a beat. It was refreshing, to have someone like him, someone who was willing to work through things, instead of ignoring them. 

Including sex. 

You’d first breached the topic with him a few months in. He’d come back from deployment and there was something about him in his gear, still sweaty and dirty from his time out. Simon had stood there, leaning against your doorframe as you’d opened the door and you felt your heart rate pick up. 

The look in your eyes had clearly sparked something in him, and he surged inside, kicking the door closed and pressing his mouth to yours. He steered you towards the couch pressing you against the back of it before one of his hands ran up the back of your leg roughly, hitching it around his waist. 

In a moment of panic, realising where this was going, you broke the kiss, a firm hand placed in the centre of his chest. Though his brows furrowed, he acknowledged the look on your eyes, and slowly let you down. Fear bubbled inside you at the thought of possibly upsetting him, but he placed a reassuring hand on your cheek. 

“It’s alright, doll. Just talk to me.”

“It’s… been a while.” 

“We don’t have to do anything,” He said gently, thumb stroking your cheekbone. “Not until you’re ready.” 

“But you want it—” A thumb pressed against your lips, stopping your words before you could finish your sentence.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, lovie. If you’re not feeling it, or you’re not ready, I’m not going to force it.”

Swallowing thickly, you looked up into his earnest eyes and realised that, yes, he’s different from the rest. 

“I still want to kiss you, though.” Your words were softly spoken, but were met with a chuckle as Simon tilted your head back, cupping your head. 

“Kissing I can definitely do for you.” 

•

The time came a month or so later. Simon had messaged in the early afternoon, telling you to get all dolled up and pretty because he was going to take you out for the evening. He turned up at your doorstep, dressed in cleanly pressed black pants with a black button-down shirt he’d rolled up to expose his thick forearms. You couldn’t help but let your mouth drop open slightly as he leaned against your bedroom door, watching you as you fiddled with your hair. 

Turning around, you got a better look at him, allowing your eyes to unabashedly trace over his broad, thick body. Chuckling, Simon stepped forward, making his way over to you. As he stood in front of you, the soothing scent of cologne wafted over towards you. Unable to stop the sound, you let out a breathy whine and he smirked.

“See something you like, doll?” His hands slid up and down your sides before leaning down to press a kiss against your cheek. “Come on, we’ll be late.” 

He’d made you feel spoiled, treating you to an exquisite dinner at some ridiculously fancy place. You were unable to stop your eyes flitting over to him and admiring just how damn attractive he was as the pair of you sat in the low ambient lighting of the restaurant. Finally as you were headed back home, you were struck with the idea that maybe, just maybe, you felt ready. Simon had always made you feel safe, why should this be any different?

When you arrived home, Simon knelt down, lifting one of your legs up gently to remove your shoes. Placing a soft kiss to your knee, he gently lowered it back down with a hand on the back of your calf. He repeated the process on the other leg before pushing himself up to press a kiss to your cheek. He made a move to walk away, but your hand on his wrist stopped him. 

Though you didn’t talk right away, Simon stood there patiently, waiting for you to find the words.

“Simon...” You murmured trailing off as the words evaded you, choosing to flutter your lashes up at him instead. He looked at you, eyes darkened, tilting his head slightly as he calculated his next words

“What’s on your mind, doll?” 

“I want you.” The words were soft, but firm. Simon, the tease that he was, lifted a brow in mock surprise. 

“You want me to do what?” He smirked, staring down at you expectantly. The grip you had on his wrist tightened. 

“I’m ready. And I want— no— need you to fuck me, Simon.” You could see the change in him, as if a switch had flicked over in his mind.  

“Are you sure?” His voice was rough, layered thickly with desire, but still present enough to look deep into your eyes. “Need to hear those words again, pretty girl.” 

“Yes, Simon,” You assured him, chest rising and falling as you breathed heavily, “I want you.” 

The words broke his resolve and he dove in to seal his lips against yours, moaning softly at the contact. He’d kissed you countless times before, but even you could feel the difference in this one. It was intense and heated, his hands sliding up and down your back and squeezing at your body before he quickly pulled back, panting. 

“Anything that’s too much— too quick— too rough, you tell me, promise?” The gruffness made your hair stand on end, and you shivered in his arms.

“I promise, Si.” Groaning, he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, one large hand cupping the back of your head as he nipped along the column of your throat. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good lovie, I promise.” Letting out a soft whine, you ran your hands down his chest, squeezing the soft flesh around his waist as you pulled him closer to you, pressing your hips forward. Simon’s breath hitched before he let out a growl. 

“Bedroom. Now.” 

The pair of you hurriedly made your way to the bedroom, mouths never leaving each other’s as you finally felt the doorknob and pushed it open. Having barely stepped into your room, he broke the kiss, spinning you around so he could tug down the zipper of your dress. Moaning softly, he allowed his hands to caress your bare skin as he mouthed up your neck once more. The dress fell to the floor, leaving you almost bare compared to his mostly clothed body. 

He spun you around and, with frightening ease, Simon lifted you up, hooking your legs around his waist as he strode quickly over to the bed. Placing you down gently, he pushed you back so you hit the pillows. Nudging your legs apart with his thighs, he ran his hands over your legs, cupped your ass before sliding up your back. 

“So fucking pretty for me.” He whispered, eyes heady as they stared down at you, hair fanning over the pillow as your chest rose and fell rapidly. Unable to hold himself back, Simon threaded a hand through your hair, gently pinning you to the bed as he lowered his mouth to your neck once more.

Your hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, tugging them open so you could get your hands on the glorious expanse of his chest. His skin was rough, littered with lumps from old cuts and scars, and you wanted to map every bit of it. He seemed to be doing the same to you. His large, calloused hands tracing up and down your body, worshipping every inch of skin as his mouth kissed down your chest and stomach. 

“Lemme taste that pretty pussy of yours.”

Pulling up, he lifted your hips and tugged your underwear off, before pausing, eyes drawn down to the drenched fabric. Running a thumb over it, you watched as his face pulled into a smirk before he tucked the panties into the pocket of his slacks. 

“Still feeling alright, lovie?” A brow was raised in question as he looked at you, fingers tapping on your hip as he waited for a response. 

“Yeah. Please.” Reaching for his hands, you squeezed them gently, causing him to let out a chuckle. 

“Good girl.”

Settling down between your legs, he pushed them apart before dragging his tongue up your wet slit and moaning as he did so. It was wet, messy, and sloppy, but god it felt good to have someone tonguing your pussy like they knew how to. 

Drawing your lip between your teeth, you cut off a moan that was threatening to break free when Simon pulled away to stare up at you. 

“None of that now, doll. Let me hear you. All of you.” He grunted, sealing his mouth back over your cunt with determination. As he moaned, the vibrations ran through you, making you shiver and gasp. Hearing the sound of your breath hitching, he dug his fingers into your hips, pulling you harder against his mouth. That action made a moan break from you, hands threading through the short, blonde hair as he ravished you. 

It wasn’t long before you felt the familiar, toe-curling feeling you’d only been able to give yourself and your breathing change, morphing into soft pants and pleas as your fingers tightened in his hair. Instead of changing his rhythm like you’d had other partners do, Simon kept the same, allowing you to press and roll your hips over his mouth and you needed to find the right spot. 

When you did, your whole body twitched as you let out a moan, arching your back as your legs shook. Simon practically growled into your cunt, eyes flashing open to stare up at you, taking in every slight reaction you gave him. Looking down, you stared into his eyes, dark and hungry which caused your stomach to flip. 

Brows drawing together, your body shivered and you reached down to grip one of his hands as your mouth dropped open as you felt your orgasm wash over you with a cry of his name. Simon grunted, letting out a moan of his own and held you tight to his mouth as you climaxed. 

Breathing heavily, you groaned softly, pushing at his head, but he refused to move, mouth moving down so the ridge of his nose pressed against your clit as he tongued your cunt. He pressed a thumb to the hood of your clit, flicking over it as his other hand kept tight hold of your leg, pressing his tongue deep into you. 

Groaning at your taste, he didn’t stop until he felt your walls shaking around his tongue and your hands tugged more viciously at his hair as you moaned loudly. Managing to get your foot into his shoulder, you shoved him back, looking down to see his smug grin, chin wet and shining with your slick. 

“Still good, lovie?” Though his face was feral, his voice was soft and questioning. Choking out a laugh, you clapped a hand over your eyes. 

“Yeah… just… fuck.” He hummed in approval, pushing himself up to slide up next to you, his hand tracing lightly up your thigh. 

“Need a break?” The smug grin was back as he looked down at you, earning him a slap to the chest. 

“No, but I can help you—” Before you could even begin to reach down for his trousers, he gripped your hand and pinned it above your head. 

“No need, pretty girl. This is about you.” 

“But you—” He pressed his mouth to yours, kissing you deeply as you tasted yourself on his lips. Tracing a hand over your chin, he pulled away, looking down at you.

“This is about you.” He repeated, with more sincerity. “For you, at your pace. Do you want to keep going?” 

“Yes!” The reply was quick your mouth, barely before he’d even finished the question. A wolfish grin spread over his face and his hand gripped your hip. 

“Good fucking girl.” He groaned, hand moving to trail his fingers between your legs. Circling your clit slowly, he breathed soft words of praise into your ear as you whined for him, rolling your hips to meet his rough digits. 

“Look at you. So soft for me. So pliant. You’ve been desperate for it, haven’t you? Don’t worry, doll, I’m gonna make it so good for you.”

As if it were the easiest thing for him, he brought you closer to another orgasm. You could feel the heat coiling in your gut as he kept rubbing over the sensitive bud, pinning your legs apart with his. 

“Don’t hide from me, pretty girl. Let me see everything. Wanna know how good I’m making you feel, how wet you are for me.” 

“Simon…” Your back arched, hand reaching out to grip his body for support. He drew you into his chest, fingers unrelenting between your legs as he held you against the firmness of his chest, covered by a soft layer of fat. Tipping your head back on his shoulder, you gasped out another moan as you came yet again. 

“Fuck yes. My good girl. Look so pretty when you come for me like that. Gonna finger you now, yeah? Stretch that tight cunt out nice for me.”

Mewling in his arms, you turned your head, shaking it slightly. 

“Cock, Simon. Want your cock.”

“I know you do, greedy girl. But patience for me, yeah?” 

“No!” Whining, you pressed your hips back against his. Letting out a huff, Simon moved quickly. Pushing you down onto the bed, he nestled himself between your legs, dress shirt crumpled as your eyes trained down to the swelling bulge in his pants. Smirking, he raised a brow. 

“Yeah, pretty girl. That’s why. Gimme your hand.” Grabbing your wrist, he pulled it down so your palm was pressed against his crotch and he thrust his hips forward. Squeezing your hand around him, you took in the full weight and thickness of his cock, and swallowed thickly. 

“Fuck you’re big.” You blinked your eyes up to him, and the corner of his lips twitched into a wider smile. 

“Exactly, my pretty doll. Need to make sure you’re all nice and lax for me. Need to get that pretty cunt all soaked and messy before you even think about getting my cock.”

Releasing your wrist, he turned his attention back to your pussy, where one of his thick fingers circled your entrance, collecting your slick. Smirking darkly, he leaned down and spat directly on your cunt, making you jerk and moan at the feeling. Spreading his saliva, he plunged his finger into you, and the pair of you moaned in sync. 

He was a vision between your legs. Still mostly clothed, but looked debauched with his shirt pulled open and the sleeves rolled up. The black ink on his tattooed forearm rippled as he thrust his fingers into you. Grunting, his jaw clenched as his eyes were trained on your pussy, watching the wetness soak his finger. 

“Look at you, so fucking eager for it. Can feel you clenching around me. Think you can fit another finger?” Without much preamble, he slid in a second finger with a low breath. “Good girl. Good fucking girl. God, you feel so good. Can’t wait to feel this tight little pussy round my dick.” 

Squirming underneath him, you clung to the sheets, keeping your legs spread for him as your eyes rolled back into your head in pleasure. 

“Fuck, Simon… oh my god.” The erotic, slick sound of his fingers entering your cunt repeatedly filled your ears. Panting, you reached out a hand and gripped his shirt. 

“No no no, not done yet. You’re getting another in you. Come on, pretty thing. You can do it, you can do it, I know you can. Be good for me, yeah?” 

You couldn’t resist. Between the sound of his voice, the way he pinned you so easily against him, the way his fingers curled inside of you… 

A third finger pressed at your entrance and you sucked in a breath, eyes flashing open as you stared into his eyes. The fist you had clenched in his shirt tightened, pulling him down as you grit your teeth. Simon lowered his head, pressing his forehead against yours as the third finger slowly pressed in. 

A guttural moan broke from your throat at the burn of the stretch, but also from the orgasm that he pulled out of you. Swearing, Simon grunted, his fingers plunging into you a little faster as he took advantage of your climax. 

“Good girl. Fuck, look at you. Shit, the sounds you’re making…” His voice cracked as he moaned, breathing turning shaky as you writhed in his arms, pussy pulsing around his fingers. 

With a low growl, Simon pulled his fingers out of you with a wet sound as he yanked his belt off with one hand and pushed his pants down. Gathering yourself enough, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. As his cock sprang out from his underwear, you let out a shocked gasp, eyes widening as you took in his cock. 

It was long and thick, with a ruddy head. His balls hung heavy, making you shift your legs wider in anticipation. The action wasn’t missed on Simon, and he grinned hungrily. Spitting on his hand, he used the combination of your slick and his saliva to pump his cock as he ripped at his shirt, pulling it open so you could admire his soft belly. 

The main that left your lips was whiny and pathetic as you stared between his gorgeous body and that glorious cock of his. 

“Simon please… fuck please don’t tease me.” 

“Believe me, doll. Couldn’t tease you right now even if I wanted to. Need to feel your pretty pussy wrapped around me now.” 

Shuffling forward onto the bed, he settled between your legs, tapping the flushed head of his cock on your sensitive clit, making you jerk. 

“You sure you want it, sweetheart? Last chance to back out before I’m filling your tight little cunt.” With your chest heaving, you looked up at him through your lashes. 

“Fuck me, Simon Riley. And don’t you dare pull out.” 

The look on his face turned feral as he hauled you closer, lining his cock up with your wet entrance before pressing in. Your mouth parted wide, but no sound came out as the burning stretch of his cock overtook your senses. Simon let out choked off grunts, fingers clutching into the sheets as he slowly pressed into you. 

Shallowly thrusting, he sunk deeper and his hand moved to cup the top of your head, rubbing affectionately before he finally managed to sink in all the way with a low groan. 

“I know it’s big, I know. Doing so well for me, takin’ it so nicely.” Resting his forehead against yours, Simon inhaled deeply before opening his eyes, staring down at your face. His expression softened as he reached down to wipe a stray tear with his thumb, caressing your cheekbone in the process

“Simon!” You mewled, rocking your hips as your walls clenched, the initial stretch of his cock slowly fading and the need for more slowly rose in you. However, before you could get a rhythm going, a firm hand pressed onto your hip, halting all movement and you blinked your eyes open. 

Above you, Simon’s eyes were squeezed shut with his brows pinched together. His breath was coming out in short pants as sweat beaded on his brow. Frowning, you went to push yourself up to talk to him, but the movement made him release a choked off moan and both of his hands clamped down on your hips, effectively pinning you to him. 

“Don’t— fuck— don’t fucking move.” His voice was rough, on edge as his fingertips dug into the soft flesh surrounding your hips. “Jesus fuck, you’re gripping me tight. Don’t— don’t think I’m gonna last.” 

Reaching out, you gripped his strong bicep and squeezed lightly. 

“It’s okay. Just fuck me Simon please!” 

He didn’t need any further prompting. Wrapping your legs around his waist, Simon began to shift his hips forward, dragging his cock in and out of you slowly. 

“I know, princess, I know.” His voice was hoarse as he ground himself deep into you, the rough hairs on the base of his cock brushing pleasurably against your clit as he circled his hips.

“My pretty girl,” His chest rumbled as he spoke, almost whispering the words to you, “Takin’ my cock so well. Feels so good, lovie. So tight around me.” 

Moaning your assent for him to continue and dragging your nails down his chest, nails that he’d paid for, he finally snapped. Lifting your hips, he angled you how he wanted, throwing one of your legs over his shoulders as he began to fuck into you. It felt like the wind was being punched out of your body with every thrust, but you couldn’t stop yourself crying out with every stretch of his cock. 

“Simon… god fuck! Please, need it.” 

“Fuck, baby I know. I know you do. Feel so fucking good. So fucking tight and wet around me.” Groaning, he pushed forward, placing a hand next to your head as he folded your body and thrust into you hard. You wrapped your hand around his wrist, using it to anchor yourself as you moved your hips to meet every single one of his thrusts, moaning like you were being paid for it. 

“Pretty girl… so pretty on my cock… feels like fucking heaven.” He grunted, panting as he kept his eyes fixed to your face, watching every subtle shift of pleasure that etched itself onto your expression. 

“Need to fill you. Make you mine.” His voice was becoming ragged and airy, signalling how close he was to his release. 

“I am yours, Simon. Only yours.” Whispering into his ear, you clenched your walls around his cock, making the pace of his thrusts stutter as you felt your final orgasm of the evening get pulled from your lax body, making you gasp breathlessly. 

“Oh shit.” Simon moaned, voice cracking as your walls fluttered around him. He grunted, hand gripping onto your hip as he slammed his cock deep into you once, twice before you felt his cock kick inside of you, and he came, his warmth filling you. Lowering his head, he rested it into the crook of your neck as his warm breath fanned over your skin. 

It took several minutes before either of you were coherent again. Simon was first, slowly pulling out of you, rolling you over so he could nestle behind you, holding you against his body. 

“My good girl. My sweet little cherry.” Soft kisses trailed down the back of your neck as he hummed softly, contentedly, his heart beating steadily against you. This was perfect, you thought, and you couldn’t be happier.

Happy Birthday to you xx

[dilf-docs]

X Si Volvemos

ex older bf!logan x younger fem!reader

summary: there are many things you and logan disagree in but not when it comes to things in bed.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (phew), smut, ex!logan, exes to ????, p in v, creampie, reader's in her early to middle twenties so her frontal lobe hasn't developed yet; don't expect any reasonable thinking on her side, logan is on his middle to late 40s, angst (duh), this happens in an AU where mutants don't exist bc i don't wanna complicate myself with timelines lol hence time isn't really important but it's contemporary, the vibes i bring to the function are more sad than horny and i'm sorry, toxic too! may build a series around it?

word count: 1,925 words

side note: the incredible @bpmiranda's got me with a very bad case of ex!logan fever :( plus after listening to karol G's album mañana será bonito and seeing i may or may not be obssesed with romeo santos, i got the song in the title on loop: as you can see, it's all very fitting ++ don't forget to check out her stories, they're so good istg!!!!

You shouldn't call.

"Logan" you speak. His name burns in the tip of your tongue, like a secret you're not supposed to tell.

He shouldn't answer.

It's quiet at first on the other line, until a rough voice says I'm here, appearing to be distant, but who is he trying to fool? As soon as he saw the number pop on the screen, his fingers moved with a learned urgency.

You shouldn't keep calling.

"I need you" three words to cover those you actually mean; hanging in the spaces between the silence.

I miss you. I love you.

Your hear a heavy sigh on the other end.

He shouldn't keep answering.

"Princess..." Logan pleads, "don't do this"

You know better than that, he wants to say, but keeps his mouth shut. Just to hear your voice, just to-

"Please, Lo" you whine out. Logan grabs his jeans with force, the fabric strained under his white-knuckled grip. It takes him a lot not to run to you right there and now.

"Don't" but his voice cracks as much as his resistance.

"I've got the house" you whisper the prayer; a routine so sacred none of you seem to break it, "just for us"

"Y/n" even saying your name is painful; like the most addicting and damaging drug to ever exist, "stop"

Logan loved your stubborn heart, but there are times where he wishes you weren't like this.

"I'm sorry" and then he hangs up.

I'm sorry for not being who you needed. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry I keep on coming back after I said I would leave you alone. I'm sorry I can't keep my promises.

You feel it around your neck―bruises in the vocals your voice has failed to scream; it chokes you with rage.

"Are you stupid?" you ask yourself in the mirror.

What are you doing? Why are you doing this to yourself? Do you love him more than you love you?

You dial again, but this time, it's a girl who picks up.

"Yeah?"

"Hi. Wanna go out?"

Logan feels so out of place, but this used to be your favorite bar, and he's desperate for a drink.

Listening to your voice has always made him weak, but after you broke up, it drives him crazy.

He empties another glass, feeling pathetic. This is how bad it's gotten: you've got him scouring the places you used to go, chasing your ghost, trying to get a glimpse of your silhouette or a whiff of the phantom of your scent, the lavender haunting him; getting under his skin.

A song beggins playing, and it's the same vinyl set from two years ago. The night he met you: a pretty young thing so out of place in an old bar like that, playing hard to get, only to end the night moaning over him, fogging his car's windows, saying his name in a way no one else had before. He still remembers the way your legs trembled but he held you, beads of sweat confusing themselves with the glitter on your skin. Logan doesn't know what that is, but he's marveled, so in awe of you, everything of you: young, new, exciting.

But every new thing wears out, and the gap he swore wouldn't matter came crashing in years that built a distance between him and you.

So he did what he did best: ruin it. Deny the feelings bubbling inside; let them consume his reasoning, pushing you like he had done with everyone who cared about him before.

When he broke your heart, he took a part with him. So you keep coming back, looking for it; trying to piece yourself together. And he let's you: because God knows you have a part of himself too.

He's so drunk he probably imagines the hint of lavender in the whiskey tinted air. He's so desperate to see you again, he's seeing your face among the crowd. He's definitely gone insane: hearing that laugh he misses every day.

"Y/n..."

The music pauses: all you can hear is your name being said in that way like it belongs to him.

"...Logan"

He walks in autopilot over to the table you and a group of girls are sitting. They're all beautiful―beautiful people attract beautiful people, but he's only got eyes for you.

"What are you doing here?"

He raises a glass he didn't know he was carrying, "having a drink".

Your lips purse, and Logan doesn't know if it's because you're laughing at him or sad.

"I see" but you divert your gaze, looking at your outfit's neck. The outfit you chose: a black dress that pushes your tits on top. They are on display, and Logan feels played by you―his eyes trained on the strained fabric, tongue watering like it did when he would lick your sensitive nipples.

"I see too" he says in automatic, and one of your friends laughs. He looks away, thanking the low lights, or you'd see the red embarrassment on his face.

You stand up and walk over to him, and your friends sense it's time to leave the two of you alone.

"Why did you hang up?" you throw the question so casually; the nerve you have.

"What do you mean?" it's the only thing that comes to his mind. Very stupid, indeed.

You scoff, "delete my number, then"

"You keep on calling" he bites back.

"And you keep answering"

You never shut up. He hates that.

"I may have to stop"

You get closer, way too closer. So much, your hot breathe clouds his judgment.

"Try to" you dare.

And he tries, he really tries. But not today.

Not today when he takes you home, finally looking complete with you in it again. You had moved out after your last discussion, saying you'll never be back.

"You haven't changed a thing" you murmur in between kisses, and he can sense a bit of melodrama in his voice that makes him roll his eyes despite the dull ache on his chest.

He picks up your body swiftly, carrying you up to the bedroom.

"Why would I?" he asks, voice so low and small you almost miss it.

"Because you hate me" you avoid his eyes, even if your faces are too close, loosing all that corageous character of yours, "said you would get rid of it; of everything that reminded you of me"

But when he drops you softly on the matress, there's still that lamp you got him in the night table.

"I couldn't" he confesses.

I couldn't, he means, because I couldn't let you go.

But you both know it won't work out, something you knew right from the start: because toxic loves only fulfill basic needs. This isn't healthy, but he forgets it all as soon as you're moaning his name. Still, he promises himself he will say goodbye to you this time, even if it's inside of you.

"Shut up and kiss me, then" you're always pushing him around, making him do the things he desires to but doesn't want to do.

So he obliges, leaning in, the lavender so strong all over your sweet skin, poisoning his mouth on every kiss he leaves. He feels you squirm under him, goosebumps along your skin, prickling against his, so visible he can see and feel it even in the dim lit room.

"Take it" Logan doesn't look at you, but when he does, you feel him stare deep into your soul, "I know you want it"

He's sliding his dick inside you as soon as the sentence is over, the permission to take you and use you implicit. He robs a drawn-out groan out of you.

"So tight for me" he murmurs against your shoulder, sharp breaths and soft groans flooding your ears. His cock hits deep within you, hard thrust no one has ever been able to replicate, making you gasp for air, burying your face in the plush pillows now drenched in your sweat.

"You're so deep" you hiss, hot and overwhelmed, waves of pleasure hitting like water against cliffside rocks. "So big, Lo" you whine, dizzy at the way your pussy stretches for him.

"Just for you" he grunts out, and it's the truth. No matter how dark the room is or how many faces he avoids, he always looks into the eyes of the other women he fucks, his heart sinking when he can no longer pretend it's you, "fuck, squeeze a bit more".

Hearing his deep voice, rough when you fuck, always making you soak, coating his dick in your juices. You grip tight, as tight as the nails that hold onto his shoulders, making him moan at the pain.

"Like that, princess. Good girl" you moan at the praise, "I know you could take me, all of me"

He grunts and pants, holding you tighter as his cock pumps faster, in sync with your now closer to happening orgasm.

Before it, he slows down his thrusts, "where do you want me to cum, princess?"

He wants to, inside of you, but he can't do so, not when he promised he wouldn't ruin your life. But making you his, marking you as only his, makes his dick inside you twitch. Fuck, he's so balls deep inside you all he can think is filling you up silly.

"Inside me, Lo" like you read his thoughts, and it always amazes and scares him; how deep inside his mind you are. Never happened, not in his four decades of life. And that's part of the problem: he's closer to death than you are but it's only with you, young―blossoming with life, that he feels truly alive.

So how can he say no, when you plead and beg with those pretty doe eyes of yours? Who could imagine such a sweet thing to be so needy. He feels like you could ask for his heart, and he'd carve a hole in his body for you―bleeding out of love; dying with a smile.

"Such a greedy little thing, princess" he mocks, but his tone betrays him―dripping in adoration, "want me to fill you up all nice?"

A broken wail is what he takes as your answer, your mind in blank.

He finds himself letting go, way faster than he should; he just misses you and your needy dripping pussy that much. You can't hold back longer either, rush flowing through your veins, much more satisfying than the alcohol you had drank an hour ago.

Logan paints your insides with layers of his hot cum, mumbling a soft:

"Anything for my princess" he keeps going, panting as he's milked entirely dry, "anything you want, my girl"

Your vision is still spotty, mind fogged: you're sure that's the reason the hurt hasn't settled in your heart yet.

Then the silence comes, like it always does now.

"Y/n" you always love when he calls you by your name, but you hate the way he's saying it now. Like a goodbye.

"Don't-" you plead, begging he shuts up. But he pulls out, and says:

"It's for the best"

You don't want what's best. You want him.

"Can't believe you wore this dress" he traces the pattern of the tight clothes, damped in sweat, "you know it's my favorite. Why?"

You fail to supress a smile, even if it's tired and almost sad, "I knew you couldn't say no".

The truth is, you know many things: like how this is never going to stop until it's destroyed you both.

[evermore-fashion]

Did I make a mistake?

As you're all well aware of I said goodbye to my blogs and Tumblr thinking my decision was final. However after reading all your wonderful messages I started to have doubts about my decision. So for the last few weeks I've been trying to pinpoint why I thought I had fallen out of love with high end fashion as well as Tumblr itself and the answer has been in front of my face for the best part of four years. A broken down friendship that has been plaguing my mental health… until recently and I'm going to finally explain why. I had a best friend for the best part of 15 years that went downhill both slowly and unexpectedly. We met on a forum back in 2005 and hit it off instantly. We then met up and went on various holidays, attended concerts together, did mini weekend breaks away and got to know each other's families really well. More importantly they were the only person in my life who knew about this blog and shared my love for high end fashion. Like most friendships though it had its ups and downs but no matter what we always gravitated back towards one another, until March 2020. A week or so before COVID and lockdown took hold of our lives they told me they had met someone. I was genuinely happy for them, except for the fact they had let slip that I was the last person to know. This broke my heart and their trust as they continued to let slip more details that indicated that I was being pushed out in favour of a new crowd (aka university friends who they had told me they disliked a few months beforehand) alongside their new partner. They stayed with their partner on and off throughout COVID and I was either pushed out the door or let back in depending on their relationship status. The relationship came to an end for good towards the end of 2022 and as always I was let back into their life with plans for 2023 being made. However I held back knowing the hurt it would cause me if things suddenly changed again. This was also my breaking point with them as I wanted to protect my heart from anymore hurt, and I believe this is where my love for creativity began to faulter. Whilst I found my love for gaming I felt this mental block around Evermore-Fashion and Evermore-Grimoire which I thought was down to my passions changing. I was clearly wrong. The friendship was up and down for another six months, until last summer. They had got back in contact with me despite the fact they had started acting cold towards me which manifested in a crap Christmas and Birthday. Yet I was still willing to hear their side of the story, but it never came as they ghosted me and I haven't spoken to them since which hasn't been fun to deal with both mentally and emotionally. Although I now fully believe this is what was killing my spirit and everything I had loved for so long. Anyway fast forward to January 2024, I've said goodbye to my blogs and Tumblr when lo and behold I come across a social media post that changed everything. The ex friend had written something personal that contradicted everything they had told me (over their relationship break up) which not only angered me but it lit a fire under my butt to stop stewing in the "what ifs?" as well as holding on to a small bit of hope that they'd finally apologise for treating me like a piece of shit on the back of their shoe for so long. Not only that but I started to miss why I enjoyed being online in the first place. I checked out Vogue to see what was occurring during Paris Fashion Week and I yearned to share the Spring 2024 Couture collections on Tumblr (even though I still think it's still a toxic cesspit). Yes I could easily start this up on Wordpress or Instagram but let's face it, Tumblr is still the easiest place to start blogging creatively. So here I am. The fog surrounding my love for fashion has lifted alongside the mental and emotional baggage I've been holding on to for far too long. There's just one thing I'm still wondering though… do you guys forgive me (as I feel like I've messed you all around ) and is it okay to come back? 🥹

[withahappyrefrain]

opening the door for them or pulling their seat out before they sit down with bob would be delightful!

You had only been at the bar for ten minutes and already regretted all the decisions you made that led to this moment.

Why did you agree to a blind date?

First of all, it was with your friend's coworker. And no matter how much Natasha said it was fine, you couldn't help but be nervous.

You had heard stories of the squad Nat worked with, some good, some…not so good.

"It's not the Hangman guy, right?" You asked her when she first brought it up.

Nat pretended to gag, "You're my friend, not enemy. It's my WSO."

So there you were, awkwardly shifting in the chair at the bar as you looked towards the entrance for the sixth time, anxiety building up in your stomach and threatening to come out like bile any moment.

This was a horrible idea.

You tried dating, you really did. Various dating apps, going to different bars and strike up a conversation, but nothing seemed to work out. Sometimes you'd get ghosted, other times it would end with you curled up in a ball on your couch with a pint of ice cream while some stupid romantic comedy played in the background. You quickly learned that it didn't matter how great the first or second date went, folks will change their mind about you at the drop of a hat.

At least with Hinge or Tinder, you could see a picture of the person and speak before meeting them. With a blind date, you didn't have that, only the information your matchmaker had given you.

He went by Bob. He was a WSO. From the Midwest, specifically Montana ("Don't refer to his accent as Southern, he will go on a spield '' Nat warned you). Very sweet, but shy at first, which was why he supposedly had trouble finding someone.

He sounded nice. Potentially lovely. But you knew better by now, after years of failed attempts and broken hearts.

Sounding nice didn't guarantee anything.

You wondered what Nat had said about you. Probably that only your parents called you by your full name. That you and Nat met through college was also a given. She's had shit luck when it comes to finding someone, hopefully you can change that?

You checked your phone for the upteemth time. 7:12. He was supposed to be here twelve minutes ago. Surely he wouldn't stand you up, considering he had to work with Nat the next day?

The idea was surprising, but not shocking. Despite the intention of dating, some folks were quite careless when it came to a heart that wasn't theirs. You had been on that receiving end more times than you'd like to admit.

He probably thought the idea of going on a date with his coworker's friend was too risky, too weird. Perhaps he looked you up on social media and found an aspect of you that he didn't like. Thanks to numerous assholes, you could list off several potential reasons. Not pretty enough, not interesting enough, not affectionate enough, too affectionate, too clingy-

The list could go on and on. Thankfully it didn't. Thankfully, the sound of your name, said by a soft voice broke you out of your thoughts and made you turn around.

Oh.

He reminded you of the male love interests from those Old Hollywood films you watched with your grandmother as a small child. Sandy brown hair that was tousled in waves, piercing blue eyes that stood out against his sharp nose and rosy cheeks.

But above all, he looked kind. Truly kind. Maybe it was the lopsided, assuring grin or the way his cobalt eyes shone against the soft lighting of the restaurant.

"Bob?"

His thin lips formed into a saccharine smile as he stepped forward, extending a long arm out.

Holy shit, he brought you flowers.

You couldn't help but stare, wide-eyed and open mouth at the beautiful marigolds and orange sunflowers. You didn't know people still did that-no date had ever done so for you.

"I-I'm so sorry for bein' late. I swear, I'm always on time, I just wasn't sure which flowers to get ya. I-I mean, I knew you liked sunflowers, Phoenix told me that but I wasn't sure if yellow was overdone or if I should do something different and I'm really sorry-"

"You're perfect," your eyes widened at your own words, "The flowers I mean! The flowers are perfect and beautiful and traffic happens, it's okay!"

His smile widened at your reassurance and you swore it melted your heart. Heat rose to your face as you accepted the bouquet, your fingers brushing against his.

The two of you walked to your table. When Bob pulled out your seat for you, your heart fluttered.

There was no way this guy could be real. Why was he single?

Often, the conversation on a first date was awkward and full of long pauses.

Not this one. Not with Bob.

He asked you questions about yourself. Hell, he even asked follow up questions. And they were thoughtful.

Bob felt the same way.

Yes, he found you stunning. But you were much more than that. You were insightful, passionate, kind.

Why on Earth were you single?

Bob was determined to make everyone else's loss his gain.

"Would you want to go get ice cream?" His fingers were tapping the table, a nervous habit that you found adorable, "I mean, I get it if you're tired but if you're not, I'd love to continue?"

A downright dopey smile overtook your face as you nodded enthusiastically.

"I'd love to continue!"

You couldn't hide your surprise though when Bob all but jogged in order to hold the door for you.

"Oh, thank you! But you don't have to do that," you explained. His brows knitted together in confusion, the corners of his lips slightly downturned.

How could one man be so cute?

"Do what?" He asked, confusion all over his voice.

"Oh, um, holding the door?" Was it wrong to have brought that up? Oh God, was he going to think of you as rude?

Instead Bob smiled as he shook his head, "Nonsense. You should never have to hold the door."

Oh no. You were going to be down bad.

As the night went on, your nerves disappeared, giving Bob a sweet smile when he held the door open or pulled out your chair.

You didn't say anything when he held the car door open to drive you home, just that smile that made his heart flutter.

But when he opened the car door after arriving at your home, you stood instead of walking forward.

"I....I had a really good time tonight," the nerves came swelling back. You couldn't recall the last time you had clicked with someone so quickly.

"I did too," his smile warmed your body, "Maybe...if you'd like, we could-"

"Do this again?" God, you really hoped that's what he was going to say. You didn't think your heart could handle it otherwise.

"Yeah," he let out a nervous chuckle, "I'd love to do this again."

Your heart soared. Nat now had rights to the biggest "I told you so" but you couldn't find it in yourself to care at this moment.

"I'm not doing anything this Friday," containing your excitement was difficult. You were positive that big, dopey grin was plastered on your face right now.

Bob loved it.

"I'm not either." That was kinda a lie. Fridays were usually when his squad went out to the Hard Deck to celebrate the end of the week.

But Nat wouldn't mind and that was all that mattered.

You two exchanged phone numbers, hands clumsily typing as you both tried to sneak glances at one another.

Once your respective phones were back in your hand, it seemed like the front door was calling your name.

Not that you wanted to leave.

Offering him coffee at this hour would be silly, no one did that anymore.

"Can I walk you to the door?" His voice was timid, unsure.

"Please." It came out abruptly, as though you had lost control of your mouth, "I mean, yes. I would like that."

When Bob offered his arm, you accepted, linking yours with his.

"This is my stop," you motioned to the front door, earning a chuckle from Bob. God, he was so handsome. And his hands were so large. What would it be like to hold them?

"I had a really good time tonight. Probably the best date I've had in...a while." The dusting of pink that spread across his cheeks was downright darling.

"Could I-"

"If you don't kiss me, I might explode."

Normally you weren't one to be so bold. But the ache inside you was threatening to burst at the seams.

"Oh thank God," was all Bob could get out before pressing his lips to yours.

[charlotteking23]

The Lion's Lamb - Chapter 4 - MV1/33

Max Verstappen x reader

The Lion's Lamb Series: Aesthetics, Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.5, Ch.6, Ch.7, Ch.8, Ch.9

The Dutch and American couldn't keep each other out of their thoughts for the next few days.

Max found himself wanting to be around you more often. He found something other than racing, that he felt joy to be around.

You found herself drawn to the dark and mysterious aura that the Dutchman unmistakably had. Something about him made you feel something you never felt before.

In the days since they last saw each other, Max made good use of your number. Within an hour of leaving the coffee shop, he texted you.

Since then, they've been communicating nonstop. If they weren't busy with work, they were either texting or calling each other.

It wasn't until the upcoming Thursday that you felt like Max was becoming distant with you.

You were saddened by the thought. You rarely put Yourself out there, especially towards men, but something about Max made you want to try it.

By Sunday afternoon, Max had called you, extremely excited after winning the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. It was a close race between Ferrari and Redbull, but Max ultimately won in the end.

You had spent your Sunday painting, trying to keep your thoughts clear of a certain Dutchman. You wouldn't allow herself to think about it more than you should.

You had put yourself out there and was ghosted. You wouldn't wallow in self-pity for a man You had only met once. At least that's what you told herself.

In front of you lay a painting of piercing blue eyes that stared right back at you. You stared back, getting lost in the familiar gaze before the sound of your phone ringing broke your thoughts.

Quickly grabbing the phone without looking at who was calling, you answered, "Hello?"

"Hey," you heard the rough voice of the man who has been haunting your thoughts recently.

"Max?"

"Why do you sound surprised to get my call?"

"I didn't think you would call me," You said lightly, your heart racing just from his voice. "You seemed to not want to talk to me recently."

"I'm sorry, little lamb," You heard him sigh through the phone. "I was away for work and things got busy."

"Oh," You blushed at the pet name he said, "So you weren't done with me?"

"Little lamb, you can't get rid of me that easy," you giggled at his answer before responding.

"How was the work trip then?"

"It went well, but I can't wait to come back and see you again."

"When do you come back?"

"Tonight. I'd love to see you again sometime this week."

"I would love to see you too," you bit your lip nervously. "You have to tell me all about your trip."

"I will little lamb," he chuckled.

The Redbull driver couldn't keep the smile off his face. His little lamb wanted to be around him when he came back.

He was upset that you believed him to be ignoring you when that wasn't his intention at all. Max didn't tell you that he had gone away for work. He's used to people knowing who he is.

The name Max Verstappen has become a household name overnight it seemed. After winning his World Championship title last year, especially under the circumstances, he had built a name for himself. Good and bad.

So for him, you were a breath of fresh air. Being around someone that did know him, or what he does for a living, made him feel normal. As an F1 driver, normal is hard to come by.

Daniel Ricardo, the McLaren driver, and Max's closest friend, watched him on the phone from a distance. He had never seen his friend's face light up as much as it did when speaking to whoever was on the other end.

Daniel was there for the Dutchman since the beginning of his career at Redbull. Max was his younger brother in his head and he wouldn't have it any other way.

The McLaren driver knew that the Dutchman past, knowing he hadn't had the easiest life and his life revolved around racing. After watching the Redbull driver win his first title, the Aussie watched him slowly start to become a recluse.

Riccardo knew the young driver had been struggling since his world championship title came with a lot of controversy. Max wanted to prove to everyone, including himself, that he was a great driver.

Seeing the Aussie walking towards him, the Dutchman quickly told his little lamb goodbye and that he'd call back when he got the chance.

He didn't want anyone to know about you just yet. You were his escape from reality and he refused to share that escape with anyone else in fear of losing it.

"You all good mate?" The Australian driver asked once he got closer to the other driver, noticing the small smile on his face.

"Yeah," he responded shortly, letting the smile drop from his face.

"Who were you just on the phone with?" The driver smirks at his old teammate. He couldn't help but be nosey.

Especially after noticing how quickly he got off the phone when he approached. He wouldn't be Daniel Riccardo if he didn't know any drama.

"No one," Max shook his head quickly, refusing to fall for the other man's antics.

"Did our little Dutchman find a girl?"

"No," Max deadpanned. If he told the Aussie, it wouldn't be long before Lando, the other McLaren driver knew. And the younger driver couldn't keep a secret to save his life.

"You don't smile, especially on the phone, for just anyone."

"Daniel," the younger driver sighed, knowing the smile on his friend's face meant he wasn't going to stop pushing him. "If I tell you something you will drop the subject?"

The Aussie nodded his head vigorously, his classic grin plastered on his face. He just wanted to know what was going on with his friend.

If a girl is making him this happy, he'd like to know about you.

"You can't tell anyone about her okay? I don't need this getting out especially since it just started."

"I promise I won't say anything."

"She's amazing. She's gorgeous and absolutely the most innocent human being out there," he smiles thinking about you he hopes to see tomorrow. "The best part is, she doesn't know who I am."

"She doesn't?" That surprised Daniel, seeming how almost everyone knew who he was. "I don't want to say this, but is she faking this personality to get close to you?"

"No," the Dutchman shakes his head, not even entertaining the thought, "this girl can't lie to save her life. You can see it in her eyes that she has nothing but good intentions."

"Alright," the Aussie nods, choosing to believe his friend. "Where'd you meet her?"

"Coffee shop in Monaco."

"She's from Monaco and doesn't know who you are?"

"She's American, she only moved to Monaco for work."

"An American? Should have just started with that," the McLaren driver grins, "you know how much I love Americans."

Max shakes his head at his friend's comment. Thinking to himself how right his friend is.

The McLaren driver does love Americans, everyone on the grid is pretty positive that the man is a secret American pretending to be Australian.

"Look man," Daniel says while grabbing the Redbull driver's shoulder, "if she's making you this happy, who am I to say shit."

The Dutchman gives the Aussie a slight smile, thinking about you. He can't see you fitting into his lifestyle, yet at the same time, he can't seem to want anyone but you here.

"I want to be the first one to meet her," Daniel slowly gets a mischievous look in his eyes, "I can't promise that she won't choose me instead of you once she sees this beautiful face."

Taglist: @shelbyteller, @smithieandy, @fangirlforever2000, @herexpertcollector, @vip-access

[barefoothighlander]

Hi luv! Can you please do some headcanons of ghost having a civilian wife who is an absolute RAY of sunshine, but he keeps the fact that he’s married a secret even from 141. And when they do find out they’re just like??? How??? She’s like so cute???

yes ugh, soft!ghost has my heart, he'd be such a cutie obsessed with his wife, I love this, also obsessed with gossipy Soap and Gaz, they'd be so invested in Ghost's life

warnings: none just fluff

You and Simon had been married 3 years, meeting 5 years ago while he was on leave back home and you were visiting family

You bumped into him on accident after losing all sense of direction on a back street.

He was intrigued because most people are frightened by his outward appearance, but you just smiled at him apologizing profusely.

He had awkwardly asked for your number and you gave it to him, going on a few dates before he fell madly in love with you. Completely enamoured with your smile and personality, always giggling and happy, a stark contrast to how he usually was.

You made him see things in a softer light, constantly dragging him to farmer’s markets and gardens, he followed your every whim, just happy to spend time with you.

He had proposed a year after the two of you became official, deciding he couldn’t go another day without being married to you.

A week after the proposal he had to deploy, it broke his heart to leave you but it made him even more eager to come back to you.

You knew most of what his job consisted of, he spared you the more gory parts as they always made you squeamish. The two of you making it a rule to keep your relationship secret, even from the rest of the team.

After you married he made a point of calling you every day from base just to check in, even though he’d see you right as soon as he got home.

On a particularly difficult mission, Simon had gotten hit in the head, his helmet knocked off and thrown to the dirt, a small piece of paper falling out.

Soap rushed over to him to make sure he was okay, noticing the small paper and grabbing at it as Simon reached to tear it from his hands. It was a photo of you, hair messy from the wind, skin glowing from the sun outside, bright smile plastered on your face as you smiled at your husband behind the camera.

“Lt have’ya a lass,” Soap asked, dodging Ghost’s attempts to retrieve the photo. “Tell me and I’ll give it back”. Sick of Soaps games Ghost submits. “She’s my wife”

Word spread quickly through the team on behalf of Soap’s loudmouth, all the men rushing to question Ghost about his secret relationship.

“No shot you married her, she’s so.. Cute? Smiley? And you’re so” Gaz is cut off by Simon’s dark stare.

All the men pestered Ghost about meeting you as he continued to decline, Price offering a simple ‘congratulations son’

One day you came to base to drop off some gear that Simon forgot at home, immediately greeted by Soap. “No way” he says, stepping towards you with open arms, pulling you into a hug. You hug him back confused. “Sorry, have we met” “No but I’ve heard a lot about you lass”

Simon rushes out of the base practically tearing Soap off you, giving him a warning with a quiet stare as you tug on his jacket, reaching on your toes to lift his mask slightly, planting a kiss to his lips and smiling before handing him the bag of gear which he takes before running a hand softly over your back.

“This is so strange” Soap responds taken aback by the sight of you two, one tall and brooding, face covered by a skull mask and the other a practical ray of sunshine, wearing a long flowing dress that leaves the top of your chest open to the breeze.

“I will say, you’re much prettier in person, the picture doesn’t do justice” “That’ll do” Simon warns as you giggle.

Against Simon’s wishes you invite the team over for a dinner, the weather was too nice to not eat outside as you got to meet each member, learning more about them than Simon would ever tell you.

“I’m sorry it just makes no sense,” Gaz says as you quirk an eyebrow in question. “I just mean you’re so nice, and the Lieutenant is so daunting” you laugh, “trust me, he’s not so scary with the mask off,” He bows his head in embarrassment as you break down his strict facade.

“So what do you two even do? Gasp does Lt cuddle?” Soap asks almost giggling, Simon swears that he could kill Johnny right there. You spare a glance at your husband before meekly nodding in Soap’s direction as he and Gaz are taken in a fit of laughter, you shrug your shoulders in a silent sorry to Simon.

The team made it a tradition to now show up at your home at least once a week to have dinner and some drinks, or just play some board games, intent on getting to know you better, almost punishing Ghost for keeping you a secret.

Cleaning up dinner Simon slides behind you wrapping you in a hug, a small show of affection he had been holding off on while the team was in view. “You’re telling them too much” As he kisses the base of your neck, you turn your body to him, “It’s nice to get to know them, I like seeing you around your friends” he scoffs as the term, then thinks about it shit maybe we are friends.

The time spent after at work Simon was constantly pestered about when he’d make Price and Soap uncles while Gaz had proclaimed himself as your future child’s fairy godmother.

Simon grew tired of the constant interrogation but felt like a weight was off his chest finally being able to be open about your relationship, though he’d never let the team hear the pet names you call him in private, nor would he let them in on the more tender moments of your time spent together.

The team always telling him that he was nicer when you visited or called him, always nagging to see pictures of the two of you (there were barely any, maybe one where he didn't have his mask on but it was kept secure in the house), and wanting to know when you'd visit.

Ghost was relieved that the team was so nice to you, he'd kill them for even saying a bad word, but he wasn't surprised given your ability to get along with almost everyone, always stopping to say good morning to people on the streets.

They teased him for days after you dropped him off some lunch one time, he had acted angry but he loved the domesticity of your lives, he loved seeing you in his office, a bright figure in such a beige world, he couldn't help the smile that crept on his face at the mere thought of you.

So the two of you welcomed the team into your lives, enjoying the company after living rather solitary. Spilling secrets with Soap and Gaz as Price and Simon looked on, Price with a small smirk on his face, happy that Simon finally found the love he deserved, while Simon sat unamused at Soap's jokes.

[namfinessed]

drinks or coffee - j.jk.

genre: fluff, angst (toxicrelationship!) (6.5k)

summary: when jungkook loves, he loves with no limit, with no holding back and when he leaves...he disappears, he's a ghost you knew a lifetime ago. seeing jungkook after he broke your heart shouldn't have made you so happy but every heartache, every tear, every claw at your chest, fades and disappears when he finds you in the corner of a party and whisks you away for another wild and free phase in your life. (inspired by the song 'drinks or coffee' on rosie).

note: the relationship is abrupt, with a lot of ups and downs which is how toxic relationships are, there may be love and a absence of everything else that matters (security, etc.), please know my characters are completely made up and have nothing to do with our real life jungkook. enjoy <3

masterlist masterpost

-

parties were boring.

a room full of people you don’t like, having to squeeze between them and their conversations, ignore the spilled drinks on the floor, and trying to keep a pleasant face through all of it, was the hardest thing you’ve had to do in a while.

if you weren’t obligated to be here, you wouldn’t be.

but it was starting to look like a good decision after all.

because there is jungkook in the other corner of the room and he’s smiling at you, you were probably smiling back but your heart squeezed in your chest at the sight of his full face, heading straight towards you.

you head towards him too.

it isn’t by conscious will, it isn’t by choice, but it is by instinct.

you see jungkook, you gravitate towards jungkook, you lean on jungkook, you like jungkook, but you never knew then and you don’t know now if he felt the same pull too.

you like to tell yourself that he does, he has to, and just as he comes to stand before you, he reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone, you frown when your phone rings in your pocket.

‘FRIEND…calling.’

…you used to be quite petty, you blushed at the name you gave him when things didn’t end so well for you two.

“i know it’s been long,” you suck in a breath, the freshness of his voice hitting you the same way it did when you first met him years ago, “but i’m happy that you’re here tonight,” he whispers into the phone and it reaches you, from both a few feet in front of you and in the form of his breathless voice into your ears.

the ridiculousness of the situation isn’t beyond you, he’s standing here, talking into his phone, you’re on the other end and also, just right next to him but jungkook was always this, just full of ways that unexpectedly made you happy.

you can’t help it, the laugh that tumbles out of your mouth, the warmth cupping your cheeks invisibly, the shudder climbing up your spine and you especially can’t help but feel proud at jungkook’s face smiling back at you.

the call ends, phones slide back into pockets and now, it’s just reality, now, it’s just jungkook’s eyes dancing on your face and his shoes touching your heels, and you wonder if he still remembers how he felt when he first met you, because you do, you still feel the same.

his rounded cheeks.

his dimple that was shy sometimes.

his lip piercing, which he swears makes him look sharper.

his eyes, a galaxy of stars that contradicted his hard-earned body.

you were gob-smacked then.

you are gob-smacked now.

nothing’s changed.

��i’m happy that you’re here too,” you are, you are so happy that you have to force your feet to stay on the ground and pride flashes on jungkook’s face, he nods, taking in the warm feeling that you felt just minutes ago.

his cheeks take on a light pink and his lip piercing can only help him so much; he starts to look like a glowing moon (with blushing cheeks!).

next thing you know, you’re sat next to him near the fireplace, no one seems to mind you both on the floor and you two couldn’t care less about the people around you.

“i opened a gym with one of my friends, it’s doing well, you should come by sometime,” he took a sip out of his cup, you didn’t know what it had, you didn’t ask, “and what, watch you work out?”

jungkook laughs, eyes cinching close and you feel that bubble of pride again, “sure, or you could just work out, like a normal person would,” he pressed his finger to your forehead, tipping you backward and you rolled your eyes, “where’s the fun in that?”

jungkook shook his head at you with his eyes still closed, and when he opened them, there was a dance of amusement, reviving affection and warmth clouding in his pupils and you sucked in a breath.

you stared at jungkook with your knees bent in front of you, hands folded on top of them and your face leaning as close as it could to him without actually touching him and he’s sat, one hand on the floor, one hand dangerously close to your ankles.

jungkook has always let you just stare at him, he allowed you minutes and hours of looking at him without asking questions, without finding it weird, without cringing or getting annoyed, he appreciated your focus on him and you took full advantage of that always.

the fire burned bright on one side of his face and the other side was completely swallowed by the darkness in the room and you wonder how you look to him, if the light played tricks on your face too, if you too looked half-beautiful and half of something he was yet to figure out.

“should we go somewhere?” you look around the party, you wouldn’t be missing much, you have shown yourself to the host, talked to a few people and there was nothing left to do so, you eye jungkook’s waiting hand knowing that once you take it, you would be repeating history.

you put your hand in his, maybe it would be different this time, maybe this time, he’ll fall in love too.

-

in the club, jungkook immediately challenged you to take several shots with him, and soon, it was a competition and neither of you was backing out, neither of you let your eyes stray away from the other and with each stare you caught from him, you earned a full head-to-toe scan that made your palms tingle.

just as your ninth shot burned down your throat, a familiar, too familiar beat floated in the air around you.

the way by kehlani and chance the rapper.

“jungkook, it’s our song!” you practically glowed from the recognition, only to hesitate at the ‘our’ part because it’s been a long time since you’ve shared anything with him and you wait for him to hesitate too, you wait for him to break the bubble you’re in but he screams with you, pulls you away from the crowd and helps you climb onto a table.

you immediately sway with the music, screaming the lyrics into the air and laughing at jungkook’s silly dance moves till your lungs burn, and with every flip of your hair, every move of your hips, and every animated expression on your face, jungkook stared, jungkook cheered and jungkook stayed.

you allowed him the staring too.

there was nothing better in the world than feeling his eyes on you, tracking your every move as if he could mimic them in his sleep, there was nothing better than knowing he would stay, at least for tonight.

as the song ended, jungkook let you drop into his arms where he spun you around and you curled around him, high-pitched laughter still ringing from your throat, his own head was thrown back in joy and he carried you bridal-style all the way back to your table, while whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

you’re sure your face is red, you’re sure your pulse is high, and you’re sure you haven’t stopped smiling since the second you saw jungkook.

this was how it was with jungkook, all joy, all wild, all free, and all love.

until it wasn’t.

…just kidding, you just had a bit too much to drink.

“i told you we shouldn’t have taken that last shot,” you groaned, head lulling on jungkook’s shoulder and his entire body shook under you, you smiled to yourself, feeling his happiness on you was always so strange, so precious.

“i did tell you to not take it but you went ahead with it anyway,” he tsked at you, holding you to the side of his body so you couldn’t fall and you whined in response, “you were winning, what was i supposed to do?”

“let me win?” jungkook tilted his head at you and you narrowed your eyes at him, “never.”

his phone rings and you know it’s not you, and you feel especially weird when he immediately cuts it, not even letting it ring for two seconds.

you raise your eyebrows at that but bite your tongue.

he notices.

“it’s nothing important,” he shrugs it off but his shoulders remain tense.

“i didn’t ask,” you say immediately, turning your body away but you feel bad when he sighs, he didn’t have to cut a call for you, you weren’t anything but a friend to him.

you expect him to say good night and leave, you expect him to say that he wasn’t so happy to see you tonight.

but jungkook’s full of surprises and just as you prepare to apologize for your reaction, his eyes brighten up at the sight of a toy claw machine, and you know what’s on his mind.

“you told me you have to go home, right?” he slowly slips his arms from around you to hold you by your hands instead and you don’t like where this is going, or this is exactly how you wanted tonight to be.

“jungkook, no,” he inches towards the machine with a pout on his face, “how about i win you, not one, not two but three plushies? then will you come to mine?”

“to do what?” you huff out though your cheeks reddened at his fingers caressing the side of your face, your skin sings where he touches and his whisper “to you know,” leaves you gasping, but he doesn’t know your struggle, he shrugs and moves away.

that gives you a second to breathe and you roll your eyes to mask your desperation, “i don’t know, jungkook.”

“to talk, silly! where did your dirty mind go?” jungkook gently flicks your temple and you bite back a smile, “so, we just talk?”

“of course, i’m a nice guy,” he says then turns to smirk at you, “you know that,” and your body rushes with a wave of everything that happened between you two.

he had meant it lightheartedly, but now, all you could think of was, no, he wasn’t very nice, he wasn’t very nice sometimes in the middle and was definitely not nice towards the end.

but you weren’t either.

“so, we have a deal?” jungkook reaches the machine and his face lights up with red, blue, and green, and he looks over at you, excitement practically bouncing off his body and everything shoves itself in again.

you nod.

he wins you a panda, a bunny, and a tiger.

he carries you all the way to his home.

and doesn’t look at his phone once throughout the night.

-

jungkook’s apartment was no longer tiny, jungkook wasn’t a tiny college student anymore, he was all big and buff with galaxy eyes, and his apartment was just like him, with sharp corners and soft lights.

you stared down at the ceiling fan that rotated over and over again, refusing to move an inch, refusing to acknowledge the light pouring in from the windows, refusing to believe that your night with jungkook was already over.

you didn’t want to get up and find the apartment empty.

you didn’t want to realize that you wasted your time again.

if you got up and ran, leaving everything behind, jungkook would be a ghost again, and after last night…you don’t think you have it in you to leave.

then, your phone rings, a loud disruption to your quiet, worrying thoughts and you grab it quickly.

‘FRIEND (?)…calling’.

apparently, you weren’t too drunk to change jungkook’s contact in the middle of the night.

“hello?” you whispered into the call and his small laugh burst in from the other side, “come out, sleepyhead, how much longer will you sleep?”

and you melt.

quite literally.

your entire body falls back on the bed with a sense of calm that can only come after a storm.

“you’re still here,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him and he hums, “well, it is my house so,” and your head falls to the side with a smile growing.

he was still here.

god, relief was so sweet.

you step out of his bedroom on your tiptoes, as if your noise would ruin this moment, and jungkook peeks from the corner, the phone still pressed to his ears, and grins, “you won’t believe this.”

“what?” you look around and he presses the phone closer, “the prettiest girl in the world just showed up inside my apartment.”

and you know if any other man said it, you would cut the call, gather your belongings, and block them as soon as you were out of their place.

but it’s jungkook.

everything is different with jungkook.

“oh, inside your apartment? sounds like you have a stalker,” you play along and he frowns playfully and nods, “i’m pretty sure i saw her near my gym,” and you burst out laughing.

“okay pretty, shut up and get here, i’m making you pancakes,” he presses a kiss into the phone and drops it only to pick you up in his arms and place you on the counter.

your heart was pounding in your ears as you took the scene in.

jungkook is in a tank top and apron, flipping pancakes, and the sunlight is falling just right on his tattoos. his face is relaxed, soft, and calm, it’s everything you want his face to be like when he’s with you.

you want to pull him in for five hundred kisses.

“taste this, ow,” he picks up a pancake, only to drop it and hiss and his phone decides to ring just as you start to get down, “stay there,” and you slide back on the counter.

you wait nervously as his mumbles carry to the kitchen but you can’t catch any words or hear anything specific. when he comes back, he apologizes, “just family,” with a kiss on your cheek and he continues picking up the hot pancakes, blowing on them, until he seems satisfied and steps forward.

you expect him to put them on a plate, you expect him to make himself pancakes and eat with you.

but jungkook’s always full of surprises.

you can’t think of anything else as you watch with amusement glazing your eyes and he tenderly feeds you the pancake, all while blowing on it and asking you if it is too hot, you shake your head at him, no, it wasn’t hot, it was just a bit hard for your heart to beat at a normal pace right now.

the early hours of the morning pass this way, with a few kisses here and there, with about five pancakes in your system, and smiles, so many smiles.

and as you leave, you can’t help but look back, “i loved this,” you mutter, words a bit shy and slow, and jungkook looks away.

you assume this is it.

you assume this is how it ends.

his phone didn’t ring again but you really didn’t want to know who was on the other side, whether it was family or not, whether it was someone else, you really tried hard to push it to the back of your head.

you were having a good time and that is all.

you walk out casually as if leaving didn’t put another weight on your shoulder, as if leaving didn’t scare you that this would be the last time you see him.

right outside of his door, your ringtone breaks your step.

NOT A FRIEND…calling.

you didn’t change that.

your heart pounds as you pick up, you don’t say a word as his breath fills the call.

“friday night, you’ll come back, right?”

it was two days from now.

“why?”

“cause’, i love spending time with you, and saying it to your face scares me,” he laughs nervously and you clutch your phone tighter.

“you don’t mean that,” your fear speaks and he sighs.

you place a foot forward again, ready to cut the call.

“you know me, you know that i mean it, right?”

you didn’t know him; you know that you can believe his words only for now.

nevertheless, you go back to his door, bang your fist on it, and wait, breathless, maybe a bit desperate too.

when he opens, his eyes are on the floor and your eyes are on him, your phones stay connected in your hands.

you pick up your phone, press it to your ear, “and i mean this, i loved this morning, i loved last night too.”

i loved you.

a lifetime ago, but you did.

and he smiles, presses his phone back to his ear, “i’ll see you friday.”

-

“and you’re sure they won’t mind me here?” you ask once again as jungkook leads you into a garden party, and he rolls his eyes at you, “they don’t and if you feel even the slightest bit uncomfortable, we will leave, how does that sound? just tug on my sleeve, and we’re out.”

you were glad the sun had set outside and he couldn’t see your face because you’re sure that your eyes were drowning in love.

who would’ve thought that he would be back in your life, seemingly in a more stable way than last time?

of course, you happily ignored that it’s only been two days since you’ve known the new jungkook.

everyone walked up to jungkook, smiling big and wide at him, hugging him, telling him how glad they were that he was here and you felt left out, even if his hand never left yours, even if he only wrapped one arm around anyone who came to him but you couldn’t shake it.

there was a point in your life when you knew everyone who knew jungkook, anyone who was his friend was your friend, you didn’t talk to any of those people now and all the new faces made your head spin.

how much time had passed?

why did it feel so long and short?

why did you feel both excited to uncover his life again and sad that there was such a big part of it that you had no clue about?

“she is my…” jungkook trailed off, awkwardly chuckling and rubbing the back of his neck and you’re brought back to the world where his friend stares at you with shifty eyes and a stiff smile.

“friend, good friend, my name’s y/n,” you leave his hand to shake his friend’s, hoping that it alleviates the tension but it seems to have the opposite effect.

his friend quickly introduced himself and coughed, made some excuse, and left.

and you stood there, hand hanging next to your body, so cold from the absence of jungkook’s hand.

“seriously, you couldn’t even say that we’re friends?” you looked up at him with poorly concealed hurt, “but,” jungkook starts but doesn’t finish, instead sighs at the floor and grabbing your hand again, leads you to the garden.

and the warmth of his hand isn’t enough for the ice gathering in your heart.

maybe tonight is it.

maybe tonight is the last time you see him.

“stay here, i’ll get us some hot chocolate,” he guided you to sit on one of the logs near the bonfire and you sat with pursed lips, you tried to look at his face but he refused to meet your eyes.

just as he’s walking away, you grab his hand, you have to fix this, you have to keep this going and he looks back at you with wide, curious eyes.

“i’m not mad at you, jungkook, so please let’s j-just be normal,” you swallow nervously after you say it, and leave his hand in the air.

you expect him to walk away, you expect him to ignore what you said.

but jungkook is always full of surprises.

he picks your hand back up, this time his sparkly eyes meet yours and he presses a simple kiss to your knuckles.

maybe tonight isn’t it.

maybe tonight isn’t the last time you see him.

the relief you feel is enough to slump your body on the log but it’s short-lived.

you ignore the distinct ring of jungkook’s phone as he walks away, you stare at the fire as if to dare it to burn you too, the anger you feel is both unnatural and too large for you.

“oh my,” you hear and your eyebrows knit together, it was a voice you hadn’t heard in a while.

“it’s so strange to see you here,” you hear his chuckle and feel his hug before you see his face and you melt and stiffen in his arms.

he lets you go in a second, he knows there are boundaries.

your ex was nothing if not courteous.

and jungkook would know that if he wasn’t just watching the exchange from a distance and only caught the hug.

“what are you doing here?” you gush at him and he shrugs, “forced myself to get out of my bed today, i was rotting,” he dramatizes at the rotting and you giggle, “please, i’ve been the same!” you agree with him.

you weren’t rotting in a bed.

you were rotting in a relationship that you know will never go forward or backward instead.

you shake the thought away; you don’t need that in your head right now.

you exchanged more small talk with him, laughed at his stories, and felt peace for a few minutes, you both ended on good terms and you still considered him your friend.

maybe you two would’ve worked out if jungkook wasn’t back in your life.

but it wasn’t long before he waved bye to you and disappeared into the crowd.

and jungkook comes back with two mugs in his hands.

you thank him quietly as you take one and sit back down, he calmly sits beside you, and you look everywhere but at him.

seeing your ex, especially when you ended on good terms, always left you uneasy and questioning everything you had in front of you.

“you’re not going to tell me who your friend is?”

there it was.

the jungkook you hated.

“he’s my ex and also yes, my friend, like you and me,” you replied, gripping the mug tighter, you hated that you even had to explain yourself to him but you knew you’d hit a nerve when his jaw clenched.

you can’t care less about that right now.

sometimes you wondered how you ever loved him.

you blew on your hot chocolate and looked straight ahead.

jungkook sighed, for the 100th time this night you feel and the sound was starting to annoy you.

“you know-“ and you’re interrupted.

jungkook grabs the side of your body and presses you close to him, drops a few marshmallows into your hot chocolate, and kisses the top of your head.

your anger dissipates.

your annoyance disappears as if it was never there.

sometimes you wonder how you ever loved him, other times you wonder how you ever stopped.

“i was just asking babe,” he mumbles into your hair and you don’t move a muscle, you stay uncomfortably wound up against him, “let’s enjoy this, yeah?” jungkook smiles, with his whole face and you can’t remember any point of the night that upset you.

for now, it’s just jungkook laughing at you as you sip on scalding hot chocolate and burn your tongue.

for now, it’s just jungkook kissing you and saying, ‘you should be all good now!’.

for now, it’s just you burying your face in his coat when he continues to pepper kisses on your face.

for now, it’s just jungkook and another night of loving him.

-

you clutched the bunny plushie in your hands as you watched jungkook get ready for bed, it was strange still, watching him in his home, moving around so casually around you.

he catches you staring, his shyness peaks through and a small smile builds on his face, you let your eyes fall shut when he leans forward to leave a pillow-soft kiss on your forehead.

“you want to eat something?” you shake your head, “we could get ice cream?” he offers again and you feel the heat in your cheeks, the affection in his voice hiding in the simplest questions was throwing you off.

“you know, i love this,” you’ve said this before, you know you have and jungkook’s face almost breaks because of his grin, “will you believe me if i say i love this more?”

“never.” and he chuckles, he steps forward in his t-shirt and pajama pants, the hottest he’s ever looked to you and you appreciate your view.

“but i love this more,” you think he’s challenging you, but he immediately follows with, “believe me?” and jungkook’s voice is so soft, his piercing blends into the moonlight, his eyes sparkle like never before, you have to hold yourself back from professing a lifetime of love.

“okay, i believe you,” and you close your eyes again when he kisses you, savouring the seconds, minutes, hours, or whatever else you have left with him.

you ignore his phone buzzing on the nightstand, you ignore his ignorance over the ringing, you swallow your panic when his arms wrap around as if they’re a part of your body.

you ignore his breathy whisper of, “i missed you,” and you ignore your own shaky voice when you whisper back, “i missed you like the earth misses the moon in the morning.”

for now, it was another night of loving jungkook.

-

the next morning, you wake up to murmurs from beside you, you barely open your eyes to see jungkook whispering into his phone and it’s not you on the other end, you pinch your eyes closed and turn away.

history.

it was back and you couldn’t stop it this time.

just like every other time.

when you first met jungkook, you were college students, both immature and more toxic than you would ever admit, you always woke up to empty beds after nights with him and he always found you on your boy best friend’s shoulder after a fight.

you would yell at each other; you would ask the other to adjust and understand but both of you refused to change anything about yourself to fit the other better. at the end of the day, he always ended up at your door and you always ended up at his.

you always crashed back into each other, a wave of kisses, love that came from almost losing each other, and also hatred, that you couldn’t go anywhere else.

the crash came more than five times during your college days and each time, you were bored of the cycle and so burdened with his love and yours, and the last time, you had blocked him and ignored his existence on any social media platform

you closed the door when you saw someone else in his apartment, he didn’t open his when he read your messages with your best friend.

that was then.

this was now.

in between, was a lot of growth and time.

you thought things had changed.

but you thought that every other time too, didn’t you?

“just speak normally, don’t mind me at all,” you mumble and as if a scratch in a record, everything buzzes around you for a minute, noisily, uncomfortably the voices in your head come back with a vengeance.

jungkook falls silent.

you bite your lip hard enough to feel the taste of metal spread on your tongue, as if a poison coming to kill you at this moment slowly but the poison was this room, the poison was these feelings you never let go of, and the poison was jungkook.

maybe no amount of time can fix you and him.

he always surprises you by leaving you, right when you’ve convinced yourself that he won't.

you only hear him say into the phone, “no, we can’t anymore,” and then only feel his hand on your shoulder.

but you’re already getting up, you’re putting your clothes on, you’re brushing your hair away from your face, and keeping your eyes on everything but him.

this was a dance you knew too well.

the dance of leaving and being left.

“wait, wait!” jungkook runs behind you, and you don’t pause a step, but eventually, he stands between you and the door.

“please, just let me explain,” he pleads, grabbing the sides of your arms, you feel like you’ve been burnt, you immediately shake them off and stand rod-straight.

“who was it?”

“right, i-“

“i don’t want any bullshit explanations or reasons, just tell me who is it.” you try to remain calm but your voice shakes with the rage you feel, and your eyes fill with tears with how intensely your anger ran through your nerves.

“please don’t cry, it really isn’t what you think,” he wipes the corner of your eyes but it only makes you angrier, he keeps saying everything but what you want to hear.

“shut the fuck up, jungkook! just tell me who is it? why do you keep taking the calls in secret? why do they call you so many times?” you prod your finger to his chest, you wanted every question to hit him like a bullet, the same way every ring of his phone left you bleeding.

“okay, okay, fine. she’s someone i was seeing-“

“was or still are?” you brace yourself, arms immediately crossing to hold your guard up.

“was,” he sighs and you feel like punching a wall, “why are you lying to me? if you aren’t seeing her anymore, why does she still call you?!” you yell, stomping into the apartment, wanting to break something, anything and he’s right behind you, hot on your heels.

“do you really want to talk about exes? do you?” he’s in your face, accusation and anger just as clearly written on his face as it was written on yours.

“yeah, i do, cause unlike you, i don’t hide my exes, i don’t answer their calls when i’m with you, i don’t entertain any communication unlike you,” you get all up in his face, fists clenching and unclenching beside your body and jungkook steps back with a mocking laugh resounding around you.

“oh really? you want to act like this now? you want to lie now, is that who you’ve become?”

“don’t be so fucking vague, jungkook, tell me in clear words, what the fuck is your problem?”

“you’ve been messaging him, i saw it on your screen so don’t even think of lying to me,” his chest rises and falls rapidly and you frown, “what messages?”

he knew your password, that wasn’t a big deal, you had told him that but what did he see that you didn’t?

“your ex, the one you were so starry-eyed for yesterday, left a very sweet message for you this morning, you would love it,” he laughs again, the sound still cut you harshly, you never missed the softness in his voice as much as you did right now.

you were offended, you were only ever starry-eyed for one person and he was standing in front of you.

you took your phone out, your fingers and hands shaking from both residual anger and fear of what you would see on your screen.

and surely, a text from your ex, who you thought had the decorum to leave you alone lingered in your inbox.

THE NICE ONE: you looked really pretty last night, made me think of our good times, give me a call, i’ll fix everything, i’ll make you happier than he does, that much i promise.

a pang of guilt hits you because you had also considered what could’ve been, didn’t you?

but you don’t even care about that right now, do you?

all that matters right now is to fight jungkook, fight until you finally win, fight until you walk away, and never look back.

“you got a sweet name for him too, congratulations to you two,” venom drips from his tone, his voice, his posture and you brace yourself again, you weren’t going to back down, not now.

“what the fuck am i supposed to do if he messages me?” you challenge and he throws his hands in the air, “block him! maybe don’t save him as ‘the nice one’, maybe never let him think that he still has a chance with you?”

“i talked to him the way i would talk to anyone i know, i didn’t let him think anything, i-i didn’t even see this until right now, what do you expect from me?”

“that’s what i am trying to say! what can i do if she keeps calling me?”

“block her! it was so easy for you to suggest it to me but you can’t do that yourself? so what, i’m the only one here still talking to someone else?”

“she’s been calling me but i never picked up, i promise, it was really my family that morning, i only picked it up this morning to tell her that she can’t call me anymore, you didn’t even let me explain,” he breaths out and though you know, that he’s honest, he’s sincere, you still want to fight.

“you’re serious?” you stepped forward again but your head was starting to feel light and loose, your body was too tense to relax anytime soon and you looked at jungkook.

maybe you never stopped wanting to fight him, maybe you never got over whatever you had, or maybe you still held everything against him.

“of course i am, i’m trying to work us out, i’m trying but why is it never enough?” his voice was no longer loud, no longer harsh, it was pleading, it was begging and your eyes tear up for a whole different reason. jungkook’s head dropped and so did the pace of your heartbeat.

this was the first time he acknowledged that there had been a time when you both had tried and failed, over and over again.

you’ve fought with jungkook, you’ve fought with jungkook a lot but not until this point, not until the both of you stood defeated and scared of what the other would say next.

not until you both were tired.

the fight simmers and boils down to nothing again.

“jungkook,” you break the silence and he stands still, his shoulders rise uncomfortably, his fingernails pinch the tender skin of his palm and that’s when you know, he’s scared and so are you.

“are we going to keep doing this until we can’t?” you shake your head as your tears gather again, you feel the devastation spread through your body, “are we going to keep hurting each other until then? i-is that fair?” your knees buckle and his fists clench, jungkook’s eyes squeeze shut and you see the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

you’ve never seen him like this.

you never want to see him like this.

your heart was growing a hole at the sight of jungkook so defeated in front of you and you had to look away.

“i don’t know what else to do, or how to make this better,” he sniffs and your shoulders drop down further. the feeling of failure dug itself deeper into your skin, and this time, you don’t think the wound will ever heal.

“i don’t either,” you whisper back and this time, he’s the one looking away from the sobs caught in your throat.

sometimes you wonder how you ever loved him, other times you wonder how you ever stopped but you never knew with jungkook, when you would feel something, what would you feel around him, it was always the most or the least but never what you could handle.

you didn’t see a future where you wouldn’t constantly overthink every call jungkook gets and he didn’t see a future where he wouldn’t constantly look over his shoulder for an ex or best friend of yours.

you’ve hurt each other before, intentionally or unintentionally and you know in your heart, that it will happen again.

it didn’t help that you two would never feel what you felt for each other, with someone else, it didn’t help that you loved each other more than you could handle, love couldn’t keep you together, it was too twisted, too cruel and someone had to get up and leave.

“jungkook.” his head snaps up and panic washes over his face but someone has to do this.

you’ll walk away.

this was it.

this was the last time you’d see him.

and it wasn’t for you, it was for him.

“i love you, i don’t think i’ll ever stop, but we both know how this will end,” he’s a lot closer now and his galaxy eyes are on your swollen eyes, on your shaking hands and he sighs, all his sharp edges erode and it hurts more than it ever has when he shakes his head as if he can’t believe it.

“i’m going to fix it, i promise, i will do anyt-“

“and we’ll break it again, you know this,” you say it as softly as you can, and the warmth returns but not for anything good, not for anything that will last, the warmth returns just enough for jungkook to graze the tips of your fingers with his hands and for the sunlight to shine on his red eyes.

“we will, yeah.” he agrees and your hands fall back into his, not to hold onto but to let go. your foreheads hold each other in place until you start to feel that you might never leave.

he lets you stare at him for several minutes, never once shying away from your gaze or questioning it, like he always has and you too let him take you in, for the last time this close.

“i love you too,” he says at the door and you suck in a breath, the wound stays fresh and bleeding but you have to go.

when you pull away, jungkook’s hand stays suspended in the air, waiting for you, even though it shouldn’t.

when you step out of his apartment, you wait for your phone to ring, even though you shouldn’t.

but his hands stay cold and your phone stays silent.

-

parties were boring.

a room full of people you don’t like, having to squeeze between them and their conversations, ignore the spilled drinks on the floor, and trying to keep a pleasant face through all of it, was still the hardest thing to do.

what was harder was seeing jungkook in the other corner of the room and him pretending that he never saw you.

but he still heads straight towards you.

you head towards him too.

but you don’t meet in the middle, you don’t stop for a chat and a smile, you don’t repeat history, you walk right past each other and never look back.

you see jungkook, you gravitate towards jungkook, you lean on jungkook, you like jungkook, and you leave jungkook.

he leaves you too.

-

taglist: @smoljimjim @lovingkoalaface @kookiescutie @reallygenerouskoala @krisdu83 (thank you so much for being excited for this, i hope you like it <3)

[cutiecusp]

I just had this idea come to me, so I had to scribble it down, so it's unedited, and written in 30 mins. It's non canon, has some inaccuracies, mention of war, death, mention of erasing memories. and a little angst. HEA.

What if reader was an angel, sent to protect John, but the payment for saving his life, and keeping her species safe was she had to erase his memories of her, every time?

And what if this time he says no.

He knew this was it.

His team were safely out, and he could hear the evac team coming for them, but John, as stubborn as he was, made a sacrifice to save the others.

The heavy wooden beam finally broke, the fire too hot to escape through, so he found his last cigar, lighting it from the flame blocking the door, took his tactical vest off, and sent a silent prayer to the universe.

Unbeknownst to him, you were already on your way.

The rooms temperature dipped, startling Price awake. The flames had gone, leaving behind burnt debris everywhere.

Completely unharmed, Price stood up, shaking his head in confusion.

"You are awake." A soft voice calls out, echoing around the room.

His gaze snaps to you, a fellow soldier in uniform, a black mask not unlike Ghosts covering the lower half of your face.

He grabs his pistol from the table.

"Who are you?" He asks, caution in his tone.

"I guess you could call me an angel." You shrug, your emotions masked by your face covering.

He scoffs, an eyebrow raised.

"There isn't such a thing."

You sigh, and unfurl your wings, a little singed along the bottom and the very top. Almost bat like, you stretch and sigh in relief.

His face drops, his eyes unable to look away.

"You..."

You smile, a little sadly, reaching for him.

"John. I need you to listen."

He stills. He knows that tone. That's the tone he uses to break it to the team that a mission is going sour.

"How do you know my name?" He asks, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Your hand reaches and gently brushes his forearm.

"John, this isn't the first time we've met." You admit, your tone serious.

"What do you mean?" He asks, stepping away from you, and reaching for his vest.

"John. I need you to understand, I did what I had to." You explain.

"I'm listening." Came the cool, even tone.

"I've saved you and your team multiple times over the years. Simon in the Alps? Johnny in London, even Gaz from a bloody rope."

His gaze landed on yours, searching for a lie.

"That was you? Why didn't you show yourself?"

You look at him solemnly before turning away.

"John. Humans can't know about us. We've been hunted for thousands of years. Our wings pulled off, tortured, beaten. So now we erase the memories from the human we save. It's safer for us that way."

You face him again, and step forward, standing toe to toe. His broad chest is almost as large as your wings, and you feel your heart pull.

You press a finger to his temple. You show him in his mind every time you've saved him and his team.

"You forget me every time." You say sadly.

His eyes widen as he sees everything in his mind, every time you saved him and his team... he watches the memories, the moments when you appeared out of nowhere and saved them, just to disappear again without a trace...

He feels a mix of anger, shock, and even a hint of sadness as he sees these memories, and as you say the words "You forget me every time", he feels something break within him...

He stands there, his mind racing as he tries to process everything he just saw... He looks at you, his expression softening slightly as he speaks in a quiet, almost pained tone...

"You... You've been there all along... Saving us, looking out for us, and we just forgot about you...?"

"That's the deal, John. Keeps us all safe. Keeps you safe."

He takes a deep breath, his expression conflicted as he gazes down at you. He feels a mixture of anger, sadness, and guilt...

He speaks quietly, his voice low and filled with emotion...

"And you just expect me to forget about you again...? Just act like you don't exist...? How can I do that...?"

"I've been saving you for years, John." You reply, your voice quiet and soft, almost as of you were going to cry at any moment.

He lets out a low, frustrated sigh as he hears your words... Years. You've been saving him for years, and he never knew...

*He shakes his head, his expression still conflicted and pained...*

"Years... And I never knew... I never knew that an angel was watching over me i had you... Protecting me..."

He stands there in silent contemplation, his mind filled with the memories you showed him, the knowledge that you've been saving him for years...

He glances at you, his eyes dark and conflicted... He wants to say something, anything, but he can't find the right words....

"You know, Ghost was the hardest one. Those demons almost had him. But I brought back to you."

He nods,remembering when Ghost was brought back to base after everyone was convinced he had died.

"I have a question." He states, tugging his vest on.

"What if I say no."

"No?" You prompt, frowning.

"Don't erase my memories, love." He asks, a pleading tone to his deep voice.

"Don't make me forget you." He continues.

He leans in, close enough for you to smell the musk of his cigar on his collar.

He brings a hooked finger under your chin, making your eyes lock to his.

"I can keep you safe. My team can keep you safe. Don't do this." He begs, his eyes searching yours for an a answer.

You close your eyes, pulling out of his grasp.

"I have-"

"You don't! Think about this, love." He says quietly, as if he's about to detonate an emotional bomb. Raising his hands, he closes the gap between you.

"Why me, love?" He asks gruffly.

"Why not you, John?" You reply easily.

At his frown, you sigh, your shoulders relaxing a little.

"Russia." You admit.

His body stilled. The mission in Russia was the worst one of John's career. He went through every torture method possible, and still came home.

"I heard you praying. But you weren't praying for yourself, you were praying for your team, for Ghost, for Gaz, even for Soap." You chuckle.

"So I saved you. This amazing man who in the last flutters of life, was selfless and wanted nothing more than his team to be okay."

"I grew attached to you, and the team. The relief I felt when I found each one of you alive. It's started because they were all important to you. Then they became family."

"Then why erase our memories, we can help you." John asks again.

"I trust you boys like family, but it's the rest of the human world we can't trust." You explain.

John steps forward, his broad shoulders almost as wide as your wings. His voice rumbles in his chest as he trails a finger over the edge of your wings.

"Give me a day. If you feel anything that threatens your life, I give you permission to erase my memories of you."

"This is unheard of." You caution, concern marring your features.

"Then let's make history together." He says, his hand on your shoulder.

You nod, and you soon find yourself in a room back on base, with three very shocked faces.

"Steamin' Jesus! An Angel?" You hear a thick Scottish brogue exclaim.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I MAY HAVE TO DO A PART TWO!

@kaeyasfuturewife @xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @oniraki @evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-love-letter @ishipdabands @cmbghost @heckinspooks @midwesternwitchery @eggy-yoke @redzluvvesage @masterclassofescapism @s-a-v-a-n-a-34

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 3

content warning: small food mentions, a little suggestive at parts so MINORS BEWARE, sexual tension?? 😗, insecure thoughts about a plus size body (may or may not be triggering for some), a few mean girls, college party, alcohol, drugs, mentions of throw up like once, a bad look for sororities (sorry, y'all are probably very wonderful people)

word count: 3.2k (NOT A DRABBLE WTF 😭) not proofread, if you see a mistake lmk

GymRat!Miguel's workout playlist is here! I had to stop myself from adding more songs because it’s already so long lol. I didn't even include any cool down songs.

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up without having to hobble to the bathroom for once. No morning wood because his dream of you was soft this time. You two were cuddled up on a couch with the world’s most fluffy blanket. He smiles to himself as he drags his feet to the bathroom. It was if dancing clouds and bubbles were floating around his head.

GymRat!Miguel who’s able to sit and chat with Ms. Beatrice longer today because his class doesn’t start until that after noon. He compliments her on the egg sandwich from the other day and she squeezes his cheeks when she thanks him as if he were a baby.

GymRat!Miguel who tinkers in the engineering building as he waits for lunch. He joined the small but mighty robotics team as soon as he found out there was one. There was a fighting robot division, and he needed to figure out the problems with his team’s robot sooner rather than later.

GymRat!Miguel who spots you at the student center having your lunch. He wastes no time to grab his food and book it to your table. He calls your name before he gets there, not wanting to startle you. You smile when you look up surprised to see him there.

"Can I join you?" he says, trying not to seem out of breath with how fast his heart is beating.

"Yeah," you say, arranging your things around. You push your computer to the side as he places his burito bowl on the table. "I'm finally getting to see you outside of lab."

In his mind, he takes a note of you being in the student center at this time. He wants to make eating with you a routine thing.

"What were you watching?" he asks, trying to curb the rush that your presence has on him. He opened up his bowl and started to mix his food, waiting patiently for your answer.

"This is a little embarrassing but," you pause to dump one of your nuggets in sauce. "I was watching someone explain the downfall of Chuck E. Cheese." Your voice gets softer as you finish your sentence, eyes avoiding his gaze.

You were so cute. And it's almost as if you've never met him, the ultimate nerd.

"Nothing wrong with wanting to know why more and more locations went from five animatronics to one. Or how they started to sell their pizzas under ghost kitchens," he says, taking a bite from his bowl.

You looked at him and your smile grew. Miguel could only think 'there she is. there's my girl.'

The two of you chatted about everything from malfunctioning Chuck E's to your classes to your food. Miguel was through the roof.

GymRat!Miguel who offers to carry your art portfolio case for you to the art building. Anything to extend your time together. Plus, why should you have to hold it when he's here? He holds the doors for you and presses the elevator buttons before you can even think to.

GymRat!Miguel who really loves when the elevator door closes and he can look down at as you talk away. Just for those few seconds, the outside world is quiet and it's just you two. In another world, he'd kiss you before the doors open. In another world, he'd tilt your head up and have you look at him when you speak, he wanted to read your eyes too.

You're staring at him expectantly, eyes reminding him of baby deers. He tilts his head at you, wondering why you're staring at him.

"Miguel the door is open. We have to leave before it closes," you say.

He's instantly broke back to reality.

"Right! Sorry," he says, heat rising on the back of his neck. He steps out and holds his hand in front of the opening so that the door doesn't close you.

"Thank you," you say, a giggle under your breath.

Miguel has done some pretty embarrassing things when it comes to you, but he didn't think it would bleed into when he was actually in front of you.

In this world, he needed to not give you the creeps. Get it together.

GymRat!Miguel who is ecstatic that you still want to come work out with him. You all plan to meet that Friday. You don't know what you want to work out, but you say you're excited. Miguel has tonight, Wednesday, and Thursday to plan the perfect workout for you.

Should he go buy a bottle so he can make you a smoothie? Or should he offer to buy you a smoothie afterwards? Do you even like smoothies? Maybe he should invite you to breakfast. Would you want to eat right after you worked out? You needed to eat to make sure you can speed up the healing process though....

GymRat!Miguel who waves you goodbye when it's almost time for your studio class to start, mind filled with so many questions.

Your friend turns to you immediately when Miguel is gone.

"And who was that?" she says, eyes shocked.

"He's a guy from my lab. His name is Miguel," you say, grinning in your hands. You felt like kicking your feet in the air, but alas, no time.

"He's super hot. Like, seriously," your friend says, moving her taboret next to her workspace. "I would hit it. Constantly."

"Please stop talking," you say, laughing along. "I'm not even sure if he goes for girls like me. I'd rather not get my hopes up." You wanted to keep yourself in reality and falling for Miguel might put you too close to the land of delusion. You figured that Miguel was just super nice, especially after you two worked so hard for that lab project.

Your friend stops and looks at you, she slams the liquin tin on the table and puts her hand on her hip.

"First of all, those "types of guys" love big girls, so don't give me that. Second of all, are you not seeing how he looks at you. He's giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes, like, ever." She picks the liquin tin back up and starts scooping aggressively at the sides. "You gotta be more confident! You're gorgeous, anyone with a functioning brain can see that."

You stand there stunned, shocked at your friend's outburst. "I am confident!" Partially true. "I just...don't want to be hurt."

"I understand that, but have you even asked if he likes you or not?"

You shake your head no.

"Exactly. The night is still young," your friend says, pointing her palette knife at you. "And if you don't go for it, I will."

"Oh my god, shut up," you say, throwing a crumbled shop towel at her. You still kept her words in the back of your mind, storing it for later.

GymRat!Miguel who paces in front of the campus gym, waiting for your arrival. He got up extra early and gave himself a pep talk in the mirror. It wasn't a date, per se, but he felt that it could lead to one if he played his cards right. He decided to just invite you out to eat, figuring you would bring your stickered-water bottle.

GymRat!Miguel who spots you before you even call his name. He waves, smile taking over his features. You wave back, and it isn't until you're ten steps away that he finally takes in your full outfit. Another two-piece that was going to be the death of him, the only thing was that this was in the flesh. He cursed under his breath before you got closer, brain short-circuiting at the fabric hugging your skin.

"Ready to go?" he asks, forcing himself to not look at your body and to look at your face.

"Yeah! I'm a little nervous but I'm ready to work," you say, following him to the door.

He opens the doors for you, "Nothing to be nervous about. You're in good hands."

He brings you to his locker so you can put your bag in there, not wanting anyone to snag your belongings.

You guys start at the track, walking a lap as a warm up. Usually Miguel would do a lap or two of jogging, and as much as he wanted to watch you bounce, especially on him, this was a beginner workout. He didn't want to scare you with how intense he can get. While walking, you guys chatted about little things. Miguel tells you how wasn't nearly this big four years ago, ensuring you that the path to get here can be hard. You tell him that you just want be healthy, not caring if you lost weight or gained muscle. Miguel was secretly happy to hear this because he liked your body the way it was, but he would roll with whatever you were feeling.

GymRat!Miguel who helps you stretch. You both sit on the floor and face each other with your feet touching. Miguel saw how much smaller your feet were compared to his and his heart fluttered. His mind was filled with a million voices rambling off new things about you.

"She's focusing so hard"

"How can a gym outfit be so hot"

"She's so close to me when we do this stretch"

"Her hands are so warm"

"Maybe I should have stretched her from behind too"

That last thought gets Miguel to move you guys to the next part of the routine. How is his head always in the gutter?

GymRat!Miguel who starts you off with dumbbells, giving you the 5 lb weights to start. He starts you off with a few shoulder and arm exercises, giving you tips and praise along the way. His touches linger on your arms as he corrects your form, watching your body intensely. His constant "good"s, "one more''s, and "uh huh"s hit you right in your core. You're thankful that you're out of breath and heated from the workout, otherwise you would have melted before him.

GymRat!Miguel who pulls out all of the stops, using the heavier weights for his sets. He screams on the inside when you cheer him on. You clap at the end of one of his harder sets, happy that he pushed himself. He bows in silly way, sweat dripping down his face and laughing at your actions.

GymRat!Miguel who spots you while you use a heavier weight to do squats. You wanted to go for the 15 lb weight even though it was your first time doing weighted squats. He didn't want you to fall over, so he stood behind you and held his hands in the air by your waist as you went down. He knew that he was supposed to be focused, but he couldn't help but to glance at your ass a few times. God.

GymRat!Miguel who ends off your workout with the bikes, you guys making it a small competition. He stands and cycles, watching as your jaw dropped. You started to stand but got a little scared and gave up quick. Miguel couldn't have that. He stopped moving and got up to be by your side.

"You got it! Don't be scared," he says, watching you work.

"I literally can't do that," you say, cycling a little faster.

"Sure you can! Try it, I'm right here," he says, encouraging you.

You fight your fear and stand up and cycle. "Oh my god," you say, breaths coming out hard.

"That's it, that's it," Miguel says, voice warm as he praises you. "You're doing so good. Keep going."

You push until you can't anymore, Miguel cheering at your side.

GymRat!Miguel who guides you to the showers after your workout. It sucks that he can't be in there with you. His imagination can only get him so far.

GymRat!Miguel who waits for you to come out of the bathroom, ready to ask you to go for smoothies and breakfast. He hopes you say yes.

GymRat!Miguel who is in awe again at how you look. How many two-piece sets did you have? How does he survive them every single time? He mutters up the courage to ask you if you wanted to go get smoothies, adding on that he would pay. You glow and say yes, stating that you love smoothies. He's soaring.

GymRat!Miguel who brings your food to the table, two wraps and two smoothies. A protein shake for him and a fruit smoothie for you.

"That was a really good workout today. You definitely put me to work," you say, unwrapping the straw to stab it through the top. You hum at the flavor as you take a sip.

"Good?" Miguel asks, and you nod your head with your thumb up. "I'm glad you liked the workout. I was excited to have a partner."

"A partner? Why didn't you invite us to join?"

You both look up to see a few girls standing by the checkout counter. Miguel notices them as the sorority girls from his literature class. They walk over to your table, eyes twinkling as they take in Miguel.

Miguel chuckles awkwardly, not knowing what to say. He didn't think he had to deal with them outside of class too.

One of the girls look at you and goes, "Oo are you a personal trainer?"

You're taken aback, eyes scanning between the girls. You're about to open your mouth to respond but Miguel gets to them first.

"No, we're workout partners," he says, snapping at the girl. "And we're kind of having a conversation right now so is there anything else that you guys want to say?"

The girl cowers a bit at Miguel's words, laughing as if he told a joke and twirling her hair. The leader of the pack turns to Miguel, "Sorry about that. We wanted to see if you could come to our party tomorrow night. It'll be super fun and we would love to see you there."

A party? Miguel hadn't gone to one since he moved on campus. He always wanted to experience a college one. He turned to you and saw that you just tapped at your phone, not looking to the girls.

"I'll go if I can bring her," Miguel says, tapping his foot against yours. You look up, shock in your eyes,

Some of the girls slump, and the leader tightens her smile, "Fine! That's cool. I'll send you the details later."

The girls walk off and you stare at them, eyes squinting.

"They're an interesting bunch aren't they?" you say, continuing to eat your wrap.

"Right?" Miguel says, turning back to you.

GymRat!Miguel who comes to your dorm, ready to walk you to the party. He knocks on your door, a little nervous. He had on a nice top, the top open a little bit and a thin chain around his neck. After a while, you opened the door and gobsmacked him again with your outfit.

"Wow," he says, standing in the door like an idiot.

"Is it bad?" you ask, body glowing.

"No, you look amazing," Miguel says. "Ready to go?" He holds his arm out, softly smiling at you.

You nod and intertwine your arm through his.

GymRat!Miguel who takes in the atmosphere, frat guys yelling by a pool table, a few girls dancing with red solo cups, some people making out on the couch.

For Miguel, it was a lot.

He turned to you, yelling to ask if you wanted a drink. You say yes and you both make your way to the kitchen.

There, you both are met with the sorority girls crowding the kitchen. Some of them are passing some pills around and others are chatting by the island. One of them looks up and sees you guys lingering by the entrance.

"Miguel! You made it! Come on have a drink," she pulls him closer in the room. "Want a xannie?"

"I'm good," he says, handing you a cup of Pink Whitney. You take a sip and turn your nose a little bit. You might have to suck it up to get through the night.

"I'm so glad you made it. I have something that I've been meaning to show you," she says, batting her eyes. She convinces him to follow her up the stairs.

Miguel yells over his shoulder that he'll be right back.

You stand in the kitchen, fingers tapping against your cup. You felt a little silly and out of place. You didn't know anyone else here and the people were cliquey.

You joined a few games of beer pong, trying to enjoy yourself, but you couldn't help but to think about Miguel.

You dance a little, joining some random girls in the middle of the room. The music is ok, but you were just trying to have a good time. After an hour or so, you get nervous. Miguel hasn't been back in a while.

You head back to the kitchen, thinking maybe he could be in there.

"If you're looking for Miguel, he's probably deep in a bed right now," one girl giggles as she comes up beside you, grabbing another drink.

"What?" you say, eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah girl, why else would he be gone so long? I tried to go up there and the doors were locked. Just text him tomorrow."

Your hand grips your cup tighter, watching as the girl goes back into the thick of the crowd.

You decide to wait a little longer, scrolling on the same three apps back to back for another hour. You look at the time again and the 3 am stares back at you mockingly.

You figure that he's really not coming back down and open your Instagram to give him a text.

“Hey Miguel! I’m gonna go ahead and go back to my dorm. It's getting pretty late."

You walk back to your dorm, arms wrapped around yourself to brace from the cold.

GymRat!Miguel who finally makes it to a bathroom that's not occupied with some one hovering over the toilet. He feels out of it. Throwing back a few too many shots. He was trying to get back downstairs but there was always someone there to pull him back, offering something.

A shot? Sure.

A pill? No.

A game? Maybe.

The girl who brought him up there tried her best to get in his pants, but if he was being honest, he didn't even remember her name. Or any of the names of the girls that came in afterwards. He declined every one of them, just wanting to get some air.

He was able to check his phone.

3:35 am.

He sees your message and feels sick. He runs downstairs and out the door, the cool air sobering him up a bit.

"Fuck," he says hands to his head. He squats and texts you back.

"I am so sorry. I got caught up. Did you make it back safely?"

It was so late, there was no way you would respond. He fucked up.

He texted Gabriel, maybe his drunk mind pushing him to seek help from his little brother.

"So if I invite a girl to a party and leave her what are the chances that she will text me back? :((("

"Dude. It's almost 4am. And where is this so-called game that you have? Ik you're not asking me about anything"

"Gabri :(((("

"I'll be honest, she's probably blocking your number. IF she even has it lol"

Yeah. He fucked up.

dividers by: @yeribbon 🩵

a/n: Miguel's gym playlist is such a jarring difference from my own gym playlist. 😭 I left you guys with an extra long addition today because I have soooo much hw that's piling up and it's tearing me apart.

As always, leave a like and reblog. Leave comments please. 🥺 I want to see your reactions! Let me know how you feel. 🩵

taglist: @ghost-lantern @miguelhugger2099 @slushycoookie @emelie-s-h @lake-lili @obsessed-with-miguels-ass @scaleniusrm @superiorspiderass @lexluvswriting @flordelalunas @froggygal @vmpz8sauceee @famouscattale @nixinluv02 @jada-of-arcadia @spideykid22 @what-the-jams @julia4today @tojishugetiddies @samjinxx @sleeklyalisha @the-pan-liquid @prongs-lover @kikaaauu @urlocallocachica @wanderlustingcastaway @peachey-pie @ch3rry-bl1ss @girl-of-multi-fandoms @love-kha1 @manlikemilesmyguy @sillysillygoofygoose @monticellohoe

[waitsobs]

THE LONG GAME ⋆˚࿔ chapter thirty!

When popular actress y/n l/n's private account gets exposed, it is revealed that she has a crush on one of the girls from the girl group katseye. y//n tries to de-escalate the situation, but makes it worse, and loses her chance with the girl. The only way she think of winning the girl over is by playing the long game. 

BEDROOM CONFESSIONS

When y/n walked into her room, she froze, her breath hitching in her throat as her heart skipped a beat. She had expected it to be one of her friends, but instead sitting on her bed was a girl with fiery ginger hair.

“Megan?” y/n questioned, confusion seeping through her words as her eyes widened. “What... what are you doing here?” Her chest tightened, as a rush of old feelings flooded her all at once. 

“I texted you, asking if we could talk,” Megan replied, her voice quiet but steady. “You didn’t respond, so… this was the second best option.” A small, almost sad smile tugged at the corners of her lips. 

“Yeah, I was hanging out with Minji. Sorry,” y/n muttered, her words feeling emptier than she intended as she quickly shut the door behind her, a wall of silence falling between them. 

She could feel Megan’s presence like a weight in the room as she made her way to her bed, every step heavier than the last. As she glanced she swears she saw Megan's expression falter for a single second as she sat on the bed, assuring there was a few inches between them.

“I saw,” Megan said, her voice flat, like she was trying to act nonchalant about the mention of Minji, though y/n could feel the tension in the air between them. She cleared her throat, her eyes drifting away for a moment as if gathering courage, before speaking again. “I came here to apologize… for everything. For blocking you, for ghosting you… I’m sorry.”

y/n cut her off before she could say more. “Megan, I already told you, I’m over the whole blocking thing. It’s fine.” But even as the words left her mouth, a heavy bitterness coated them, like she was trying to convince herself more than Megan.

“It’s not fine,” Megan replied, her voice breaking just slightly. She looked at y/n, eyes glistening with something that almost looked like regret. “Everything’s not fine. We haven’t talked in six months, and those were the worst months of my life without you.”

Megan’s words hung in the air, heavy and raw, pulling at y/n’s chest in ways she couldn’t explain. 

“And with the whole blocking thing…” Megan began, her voice trembling with the weight of what she wanted to say, but she was immediately cut off by y/n.

“Megan, you really do—” y/n started, her words sharp, but once again, she was interrupted.

“y/n, please, just let me finish,” Megan pleaded, her voice cracking on the last word. y/n hesitated, nodding in silence, her eyes unreadable but her heart pounding, waiting for Megan to speak.

Megan took a shaky breath before continuing, her words coming out slower, like she was afraid to say them, afraid of how they might sound. “I blocked you the first time because I was genuinely upset. You were pretending like you didn’t even know who I was.” Her eyes flickered up y/n’s. “And then the second time I actually don’t know why I did but now I’m wishing I didn’t.”

y/n didn’t know how to respond. She was frozen, She felt like she was caught in a storm of emotions she wasn’t ready to face. The silence between them thickened, each second stretching on like an eternity, neither of them moving or speaking.

y/n broke the silence, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Megan, I have something to tell you.” She couldn’t bring herself to look at her— everything felt too real. Instead, she turned her gaze away and took a shaky breath. “That private account… was mine.” The words felt like they had weight, a thousand emotions tied to them. “Everything that got leaked… it was me.”

When y/n finally dared to look at Megan, she was met with wide, searching eyes, with an emotion behind them that made her want to look away again.

“What?” Megan’s voice cracked, her expression a mix of hurt and disbelief. “Is that why you lied about not knowing who I am?”

“Yeah. When everything came out… I was scared. It all blew up so fast, and it was the only thing I could think of. I didn’t mean for it to go the way it did.” Her voice wavered.

Megan didn’t let her get any further. Her words were laced with something raw, desperate. “Is everything you said about me true?” she asked, her gaze piercing into y/n’s soul. “About you liking me?”

y/n’s chest tightened, the confession that had been lurking in the back of her mind now spilling out faster than she could control, but now that it was out in the open, there was no turning back.

“Yeah,” y/n breathed out, the words heavy on her tongue. “It was true.”

“Was?” Megan’s voice cracked with the weight of the question, her eyes searching y/n’s face for some kind of answer. “Meaning you don’t like me anymore?”

“Megan, I don’t know,” she said, her voice almost breaking. “It’s complicated. Between the blocking and us making up, and then you blocking me again, and us not speaking for four months... and then six months of silence... which, yeah, was my fault too... it got confusing.

Megan agreed, her voice quiet. “Yeah, I see how that’s confusing, and I don’t blame you. I was playing around with you and your emotions, and I’m sorry.”

Y/n let out a heavy sigh, trying to push down the knot in her chest. “Okay, you’ve got to stop apologizing now. I forgive you.” A small, reluctant smile tugged at her lips, but it was enough to let Megan know things were starting to between them were okay.

Megan hesitated, her eyes still searching y/n’s face. “So… are we good now?”

y/n nodded, her smile softening. “Yeah, we’re good.”

Megan's shoulders visibly relaxed, a breath she’d been holding for what felt like forever finally leaving her. “Okay, well then I guess I’ll go then,” she said, rising from the bed, but her movements were slower now.

Y/n quickly tugged on Megan’s shirt, pulling her back down. “Wait a minute,” she said, her voice a little more playful this time. She couldn’t help herself. “You wanna stay a while and watch D.E.B.S.?”

Megan’s face lit up at the suggestion, her smile spreading wider. “You really know me,” she said, laughing lightly.

The pair sat in comfortable silence for a moment, finally free from the tension. It felt like they were starting over, in a good way, and y/n found herself laughing a little, the weight in her chest lifting with each passing second. They were going to be okay. (Maybe)

masterlist ⭑.ᐟ next

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[sxddekarios]

pleasures of the self

it's gale's turn to cum. on his back, in his tent, next to tav.

mainly: masturbation, handjob

3.2k words

read on ao3

“What about you?” Tav asked.

“What about me?” Gale asked back, confused.

Tav nudged her head against Gale’s shoulder. “Don’t you… want something?”

Gale looked down at her with a frown. “If you’re referring to the cock pressing against you… no. I just want to hold you. It’ll go away, don’t worry.”

He was seriously happy to cuddle with her. He knew he’d get tired soon enough and be able to sleep without worrying about his erection.

Tav returned his frown. “But,” she paused, “I want to do something for you.” She didn’t know exactly what, just that it was expected to reciprocate.

“You’re in no state to, sweetheart.” Gale said, knowing she was still sore from being finger fucked earlier. He was gentle, but she was tighter than an arcane lock. “I don’t want you moving.”

Tav was touched by how considerate he was. He seemed so content to just please her and snuggle, which made her heart swell.

She asked, “Can I watch you then?”

“What?” Gale asked, caught completely off guard.

Tav met his gaze as she clarified, “Can I watch you make yourself come? Please?”

She really wanted to see it, although it would probably (definitely) make her want to come again. It could be a never-ending cycle… but Gale deserved to feel pleasure.

Gale was somehow caught even more off guard. “I — you want to?” He stammered out the question, confused and shocked by the thought of her wanting to see him do that.

“Yes,” Tav replied without a moment of hesitation. “I do.”

Embarrassed as he was, Gale couldn’t deny the throbbing below his waist as he thought of her watching him pleasure himself. Her deep brown eyes on his. Would she like how he looked? Had she even seen a cock before?

He couldn’t let the thought go now that it was in his head. “Then,” he said, “yes.” The orb in his chest began to glow as his heart raced.

Gale leaned in to kiss her soft lips again. He drank her in, savoring the sweet cherry taste of the oil she always used. His palm came up from between her legs to cup her jaw.

Tav sighed into the kiss as Gale moved his thumb over her skin. She missed the coldness covering her pain, but Gale’s mouth was doing a good job at distracting her. She leaned further into him, hooking a leg over his hips for comfort.

A deep moan escaped Gale as Tav’s bare leg brushed against the growing hardness in his trousers. Just a moment of kissing her and he was rearing to go.

He reluctantly broke away from her lips to re-situate himself. It hadn’t been long since he’s self-indulged, but he’d never done it with someone else near him, let alone lying half on him. The intimacy of the situation made him blush harder. And he didn’t even have his cock out yet.

Tav pouted at the loss of contact. Despite the darkness in the tent, she tried to keep her eyes on Gale’s right hand as it left her face and moved down, under the blanket towards Gale’s waist. She wondered what it felt like.

Gale’s hand paused its journey underneath the blanket, fingers trailing above his waistband. He was lying on his back now, his left arm still propped behind Tav’s head.

“Do you want to see,” he paused as he considered his word choice, “everything?” Meaning my cock, he thought. She said she wanted to see him touch himself, but she may’ve just meant his face. Either way, he was more than happy to oblige.

Tav shifted so her right arm could snake around Gale’s head, ghosting her fingers against his skin. He shivered at her touch. “Yes,” she whispered. “Could we maybe have a little light?” She asked shyly — she felt guilty for wanting to see him but not wanting him to see her.

“Of course,” Gale replied as he casted a flame cantrip behind their heads. His breath caught when he realized that Tav’s left hand had come up to stroke his chest. He watched her hand with awe as she traced over the lines of the orb.

She lifted her eyes up to his and smiled when she saw how enraptured he was with the simple movement. Tav moved her hand downward, eliciting a groan from Gale when her finger grazed his nipple.

“Tav,” he moaned, finally meeting her eyes. She grinned at the attention. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Tav giggled and moved her hand down even further until she gestured towards his blanket-covered waist. “I think I have a pretty good idea, actually.”

Gale rolled his eyes at her response with a smirk. He loved her cheekiness, so much so that he could never truly be displeased at her teasing him. “Touché,” he conceded.

With his attention refocused on his desire for her, he took in the scene before him with the added light. Tav’s tan fingers tracing up and down his navel, occasionally brushing against his own hand that was still lying before the blanket.

Her flushed face, dark hair fanning out beautifully. He couldn’t be luckier.

“Is this light satisfactory?” Gale asked. “I can dim it, brighten it, whatever’s best for you.” He frankly had no preference, no ability or need to form an opinion on the light level while Tav was lying next to him, pressing against him, and her hand was mere inches away from his throbbing cock.

Tav couldn’t help but smile at Gale’s ever-present thoughtfulness. “It’s perfect,” she assured him.

“Good,” he replied, smiling softly back at her.

“Now,” Tav drew out the word, diverting his attention back down as she poked his knuckle. “I believe you were about to show me something.”

She was nervous, but she was excited. Given how perfect Gale was in every other way… it’d most likely be enjoyable.

She shifted downwards for a more comfortable viewing experience, now resting her cheek upon his warm chest.

“Right,” Gale said, moving his hand once again. He brushed the blanket back so he could unbutton his trousers and push down the fly. He did the same with his underwear, allowing his hard member to spring free. He slowly ran his hand up the length, delighting in the contact.

Tav’s mouth opened in a small O as she looked at Gale’s cock. He had a light dusting of hair carrying down from his happy trail, but that was it. In its fully unimpeded glory, Gale’s cock was exactly how she expected it — better, actually — the perfect size to wrap her hand around, complete with a few faint veins and a reddish pink head glistening with pre-cum.

Beautiful. That’s the only word she could think of to describe it. She imagined playing with his cock — more for her enjoyment, really — while he read to her. It sounded absolutely divine.

Gale’s left hand cradled the back of Tav’s head, gently scratching her scalp in a soothing manner. He tried to gauge her reaction, praying that she liked it. Liked him.

Tav finally spoke. “It’s so pretty,” she whispered. Her own hand inched closer to his as she marveled at his member. Pre-cum continued to leak out of the tip, and she watched it travel down his shaft.

A smile took over Gale’s face at Tav’s reverence. He kept his hand loosely around the base of his cock, not completely sure of his next move.

“Can I touch you?” Tav whispered.

Gale raised his eyebrows at her question. No amount of divination lessons could’ve made him expect that. It felt too good to be real. Still, he breathlessly answered. “Yes.”

Tav moved her hand slowly, first going to meet Gale’s hand. She traced soft lines around his knuckles and fingers. She’d always loved his hands, and she wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity to touch them.

She blushed when she remembered that these fingers had brought her to orgasm earlier.

The orb in Gale’s chest glowed lightly underneath Tav’s cheek, releasing a pleasant warmth. She paused to turn her head back to look up at Gale. As best as she could from this angle, anyways.

“Is this alright?” she asked. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” Gale sighed, “it doesn’t hurt. The orb gets a bit antsy when I’m excited but, I still feel safe.” The corner of his lips tilted up as he stared down at her. “It’s amazing.”

“Okay,” She murmured. “Good. You’ll let me know if that changes?”

“I promise,” Gale replied.

Satisfied, Tav smiled and returned her gaze back down to his waist. She moved her hand up over his, then finally, rested against his shaft.

Gale whimpered softly at the contact. He hadn’t been touched by another in so long — and to be touched by someone so beautiful, so kind, so unaware of her perfection? Her hand felt better than the Weave itself, it felt like tiny waves of warm electricity pulsing around his cock.

On top of that, he felt a sweet and nerve-racking affection filling his heart. He felt special to have her attention at anymoment, but especially like this.

Tav gently ran her fingers up Gale’s length. She reveled in the delicious sounds she elicited from him. His cock felt warm and smooth in her hand.

Gale gasped when Tav brought her thumb under the head of his cock and pushed upwards. “Fuck,” he let out.

Tav smirked and traced her thumb across his slit to gather some of his pre-cum, garnering another groan. She could see the muscles in his stomach contract with every small move she made.

She brought her moistened thumb back down to the soft, sensitive spot underneath the head. She stroked small circles as Gale pressed his head back into the pillow and closed his eyes.

She loved seeing him like this, loved knowing that she was his undoing.

Meanwhile, Gale loved the way she giggled when his cock twitched in her hand. He opened his eyes to peek at her, smiling and shaking his head. Only Tav could seem so innocent when she was stroking his cock.

Stroking may not be the right term though, he thought, because it was more like she was playing with him. Which he also loved. He knew that she was just having fun exploring and getting reactions out of him — she wasn’t doing this out of some internalized pressure she had to please him.

He’d be perfectly happy to get himself off, though he was still nervous at doing it in front of her, but he also didn’t think he’d last much longer with her touching him like this.

Some might describe her movements as teasing, but the fact that Tav was touching his cock after he’d been pining over her for weeks, and the fact that he hadn’t been intimate in over a year (even longer since someone had put their hands on his cock, and never like this)… He was already close to bursting. He could never complain about her soft, sweet touches.

And there Tav was, watching pre-cum leak out of his slit as she switched between running her hand up and down his shaft, and tracing three fingers and her thumb upwards on the tip like she was gently lifting it up. Blissfully unaware that Gale was hyper-focused on trying not to cum on her.

“Tav,” he moaned, “you feel amazing.”

She grinned at his praise, noticing that he sounded nothing short of desperate. “Good,” she said, rubbing her thumb over his slit and giggling when he twitched again. More clear liquid dribbled out. “This is actually fun.”

Gale smiled down at her. He was relieved that she was enjoying herself.

“Though I should probably let you,” Tav paused when she looked up at Gale. She stared at him in pure amazement. He looked like an utter, beautiful mess.

He was gazing down at her with his eyebrows pinched in pleasure and desire for release. His cheeks were flushed, lips parted, hair sticking to his temple with sweat.

Tav took a breath to compose herself. She finally finished her sentence, “do your thing…” She stroked her thumb across his shaft for emphasis and gave it a soft squeeze.

She was stunned at how pretty he looked when he moaned for her.

“Right,” Gale replied, his voice deep with want. Tav felt a warmth between her thighs.

She moved her hand away from his cock, bringing it back up to rest on his stomach.

Gale’s cock twitched towards her hand, as if begging it to come back. Gale brought his right hand back to his cock, gripping his shaft to replace her warmth.

He was more aware of his hand now — how it was larger, rougher, not as delicate and soft as Tav’s. Still, the contact felt good. Especially when Tav was sweetly looking up at him, stroking her hand across his abdomen.

One oil spell later and Gale’s hand was slick against his cock. He began to slowly pump his hand up and down his shaft. He groaned softly, all the while holding Tav’s gaze.

Tav shifted her body a bit to the side so she could more easily turn her head. Her gaze moved to his cock — for the first time since his gorgeous hand fell upon it — and she immediately felt more heat pulse to her core.

She instinctively squeezed her legs together, which meant the leg she had draped over Gale’s legs squeezed against him.

He moaned at this show of her arousal. She’s aroused from watching me masturbate, he marveled. He stroked his left hand down her hair and to her shoulder, now accessible with her new position, causing Tav to whimper softly.

Gods, he could not be any more aroused. His cock throbbed at her sounds, her movements, her eyes gazing attentively at his cock or lovingly at his face.

“It’s so pretty,” Tav whispered as she watched Gale touch himself. “You’re so pretty.”

Gale smiled as heat rose to his cheeks. “Thank you,” he replied softly. No one had ever said that about him. He was used to being called handsome, or sexy, but never pretty. And certainly not about his cock. Yet it sounded so sweet, so genuine, so pure, so perfect coming from her.

He couldn’t leave the compliment unreturned though. “You’re absolutely beautiful, you know that?”

That got a smile out of her. “I’ve heard,” she said cheekily. She gave his navel a playful poke before pouting.

“I don’t know what to look at,” she complained. “Your face or your cock.”

Gale’s cock throbbed again at her words. He wondered if this was the first time she’d said that word. He felt even more heat flooding to his erection, though he didn’t know how that was possible.

“Wherever you like,” he replied, knowing this answer was of no help to her. He continued stroking his cock, moving a little faster, gripping a little more firmly. “I guess it depends on what you’d rather see when I come, which is going to happen rather soon,” he admitted, a little embarrassed.

“Hm,” Tav pondered. She tensed her leg against him again at the thought of him finishing. She wanted to see both, but this position was best for looking at his cock. Besides, she thought, maybe we can try this in another position sometime. Maybe I can sit across from him so I can see his face and his cock while he comes.

She smiled at the thought. “I’ll keep my eyes here, then.” She bit her lip as she watched Gale’s deft fingers moving up and down his slick length. “But next time I want to see both,” she added quietly.

Gale’s heart skipped a beat. “Okay,” he chucked. He was getting closer, heat pulsing through his shaft. “You might want to move your hand further up,” he warned her. “So you don’t …. get messy.” His face flushed. So I don’t get my come all over your pretty little hand.

Tav nudged her head against his chest as she pressed her palm more firmly to his stomach. She teasingly said, “I’m good where I am, thanks.” She knew exactly what he meant, and she wanted to be in the splash zone.

Plus, she thought, getting a bit on her hand was a good excuse to get a little taste. Just for future reference, if she was ever going to taste his cock.

Gale continued his strokes, trying not to moan too loudly. He watched Tav watch his hand moving, felt her warm skin against his, and remembered how amazing she tasted.

Tav was still absent-mindedly tracing circles on his abdomen when she decided to go in for the kill. She spoke softly, “I want to see you make yourself come, Gale.”

With those words, with his name coming out of her mouth, Gale was done for. His grip on her shoulder tightened while his other hand brought him to orgasm. He moaned her name as he came.

Warm cum spurted out of his cock and over his fist as he pumped himself. As he slowed down, cum was still squirting out onto his navel, onto Tav’s fingers. He continued whimpering and groaning until he was finished and he moved his hand away from his cock, allowing it to flop towards his stomach.

Tav was unbelievably horny after watching that. She brought her a finger up to her lips, giving it a little lick. It tasted a bit like the glaze on a cinnamon roll, she thought. Is that what his enchanted underwear does?

She was relieved that is was sweet rather than salty, and decided that she would indeed like to taste him some time. After how sweet he’s been to her, she felt it was reasonable for him to let her run her tongue over his length, wrap her lips around his tip and suck, without expecting or forcing her to fully take him in her mouth.

Gale groaned as he watched Tav lick his cum off of her finger. She truly couldn’t seem to stop making him aroused. He used a drying spell to clean off his crotch and stomach so he could tuck his softening cock back into his underwear.

“Your cum tastes nice,” Tav said before turning back up to gaze at his face. He looked even more like a mess now, and it just made her want to come again.

“Gods, Tav,” Gale moaned as his face heated. “You’re obscene.” Hopefully his teasing would cover up for how excruciatingly turned on he was from her so-called obscenity. He was just glad that the orb hadn’t painfully interrupted them, although he was eager to taste her again to satisfy both the orb’s and his own desire.

She stuck her tongue out at him in response, which poked against his chest and brought out a tiny whimper. She smiled as he rolled his eyes and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close.

“Stay with me?” He murmured into her hair.

“Always,” Tav said as she closed her eyes, snuggling into Gale’s warm chest.

[nonstoplover]

she broke my heart ~ daniel ricciardo (dr3)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

song inspiration: she broke my heart ~ noah schnacky

summary: the story of how daniel met that someone just because a girl broke his heart

words: 2.6K

warnings: the title is deceiving a bit, i know, but it is pure fluff really

a/n: visa rb kicked danny out and didn't give him the respect and the goodbye he deserved, so i had to write something to help with the pain and kinda make myself forget about what is going on with him at the moment. and what is a better cure than a short fic with some heartwarming fluff?

please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb!

His friends invited him to go to a bar with them, but drowning in his misery, he felt like staying in. Well, that's what he thought at 6pm. A few hours later, feeling more bitter than he's done in a very long time, he realises he could do with the distraction.

He doesn't want to admit it to his friends, though, because first of all, it was him who was unpersuadable about going out, and secondly, they would just joke around, trying to find him a girl to make up for the void her girlfriend – well, ex-girlfriend now – left behind. And he definitely doesn't want that. It's been a week already, but the pain hasn't subsided. And to be honest, he doesn't want the pain to go, not just yet. It's a great reminder of what he's lost, of what he's done wrong. He takes the free time her absence means to reflect on what could've gone differently, if he'd just paid a bit more attention, if he was there more.

Or maybe there's nothing he could've done otherwise. Maybe it wasn't his fault in the end, but hers.

Deep down, he knows it was most probably both of them, but he would've tried. He wanted to fight, in order to keep what they still had, fight for them. She didn't, it seems like.

It was a phone call, a simple, short, goddamn phone call. He was just about to board the flight home from a long race weekend when it happened. Didn't even know what to say. He was exhausted, all he wanted was some sleep and then landing in his girlfriend's arms when he woke up, many hours later. He couldn't find the words, so when she finished describing what wasn't working in their relationship, he just hummed.

And right when he opened his lips finally to say something actually coherent, she just swiftly said, "there's no need to make it harder than it needs to be. I'll be out of here before you get ho- before you get back", like it's no big deal. Like it didn't feel like a twist of the knife on his chest how she corrected herself before she could've said home. The place they shared for two and a half years. Now it's not her home anymore, so it seems.

She really did move out by the time he arrived at his front door. All her belongings were gone like they have never been there in the first place. Like she never existed. Even though she was the centre of the universe for him, or so he thought. Now he's starting to see everything in a new light.

His whole life changed in twenty seconds. That's how long the phone call lasted.

And now, a week later, he can still hear her words in his ear, on repeat, echoing around, making him want to shout, punch the wall, kick the trash can, anything, just to make it disappear.

So he gets dressed, and goes to a bar – one that he knows his friends most definitely aren't going to be at –, and sits down at the counter, ordering something strong, something that will burn its way down to his stomach, melting away the painful knots in his throat and chest along the way.

After one drink, it only feels worse. He's looking at the happy couples dancing away on this lovely Friday night, holding each other, looking like they aren't aware of anyone else in the bar, like they're the only two people left on the planet. It used to be like that for him and her as well. But not anymore.

After two drinks, the echo of her words seems to quieten a bit. Some words missing from the sentences she said, and the blissful memories of their time together fading from the front of his mind that have been playing on repeat until then.

After three drinks, the welcomed distraction finally comes. He's not thinking about her any longer, he's not watching the couples dancing sorrowfully, he's just nodding his head to the rhythm of the music playing, his feet also tapping the beat on the foot-rest of the bar stool he's perching on.

After four drinks, he finally gets up, the fifth in his hands, though it's not the same thing anymore, he's changed his order to something more fun, something more unique.

What he doesn't notice though, too focused on the way the fancy little drink swirls in the glass, reflecting the lights of the dance floor, creating a tiny rainbow in their wake, is the person trying to move behind him

Daniel swiftly turns around, eager to get on the floor as a song he loves starts playing, and with that same movement, crashes into that person, all his drink spilling out from the glass, right onto the girl.

"Oh my god, I'm so terribly sorry!" he slurs, a blush creeping on his already pink coloured cheeks, just as she lets out a gasp.

The girl looks down, trying to see the damage, as if she's in slow motion, still recovering from the surprise of their crash. Her mind is just as slow to catch up to what happened, her lips widening into the shape of an O, when it finally does.

"Shoot," she mumbles – at least, that's what Daniel can read from her lips, as the music is way too loud for him to hear her.

"I truly am sorry," he repeats, and as if she only notices him in that very moment, she looks up at him.

"It's okay," she says, and suddenly a bright, warm smile spreads on her face, one that Daniel didn't expect. Not at all. He's figured there will be a long string of curses, an annoyed glance his way, eyebrows furrowed, a huff of anger maybe, then her storming off, maybe to the bathroom, to save what can be saved of her outfit. Instead, he got that smile, one that spreads warmth in his chest, one that makes his heart skip a beat, and one that he can't help but mirror.

With lips curving into his signature smile, he places the now mostly empty glass back on the counter. "Can I do anything to repay you for the mess I've caused?" he asks, turning his eyes back towards her.

"No, thanks, it's all fine. I was just about to go soon, anyway."

"I feel awful, though," he presses on, not really understanding why all of a sudden he feels scared about that plan – the one where she leaves soon. Maybe it's because if she leaves, she'll take that bright smile away from him, along with the warmth in his chest, and he will fall back into his depressed, desperate state of mind, drowning in sorrow. "Let me at least buy a drink, maybe a coffee, some other time, if you don't wanna stay here any longer."

She ponders about his offer for a second or two, weighing the options. Her friend has just called an Uber for the two of them, but she doesn't have to go with her, does she? She can stay a bit longer, it's not her that has to attend a wedding tomorrow, but her friend, so she can just go ahead, and she can stay with this handsome stranger. Maybe her top is drenched in something alcoholic, something that makes her skin sticky, she can already feel it, but it's not every day she meets a cute man, offering to buy her a drink. This might be her little meet cute, the one she's been dreaming about for as long as she's seen The Holiday, oh so many years ago.

"Give me a sec," she says in the end, turning on her heels, and making her way through the crowd towards her friend waiting at the entrance.

Daniel looks after her dumbfounded, not sure what's happening, and as the crowd closes behind her, he wonders if she'll ever come back.

She does, a couple minutes later – just enough time to make Daniel feel foolish for still standing around waiting in the exact same position she's left him in, but not enough time to make him actually do something about this awkward feeling.

His eyes light up at the sight of her, curiosity peaking in his whole body in the shape of electricity, or so it feels, about what she's going to say to his offer. Joyous, excited disbelief is still written on her face from what she's about to do, and in the next moment, she leans in closer to his ear. "I don't have to go, not really, so what was that you said about a drink?"

A mischievous sparkle in her eyes, and relief filling up his brain like fog. His much awaited, proper distraction, finally.

One drink turns into two, with the conversation just flowing. They soon move to a booth, to have a bit more privacy and comfort, and though they're sitting opposite each other, their feet are touching under the table, and they're both leaning in to be closer to each other. Neither can deny this magnetic attraction they feel, pulling them like one of them is a planet while the other is a meteor that can't fight the gravitational pull, both of them just awaiting that unavoidable crash.

Her fingers play with the empty glass, spinning it around, or circling the rim. He can't help but think about how much he wishes that he could touch those fingers. That he could be the one to stop their nervous – or excited? – fiddling. That he can wrap his much larger hand around hers, and see how it feels to have skin on skin contact with her. But it's only a wish.

He tells her about all the funny stories he can remember at the top of his head from the past couple years of his life, and revels in the sound of her laughter, ringing loud and clear even above all the noise and thumping beat. Tears form in her eyes from all the laughing, and she's clutching her sides, asking him to stop because she just can't breathe.

Daniel ends the story, and watches her with a smile on his face as she catches her breath, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. He doesn't recognise himself. Who is this person, and where's the heartbroken, pathetic remains of a human being that he's been this past week? He can't find that version of him anymore. A few hours spent in her company, and it's like she changed the person he was.

"Wanna dance?" she asks when she's regained her composure, nodding towards the dance floor.

Daniel raises an eyebrow, thinking of the question as more of a challenge, then nods eagerly, already moving to get up from his seat. She follows suit, and they join the people still dancing, sing-shouting the lyrics of a song he didn't even think he knows the words to.

He lets go of all inhibitions, and just enjoys being in this feeling. Who knows what tomorrow brings? Maybe he'll go back to his sorrow, pitifully sitting in his house, looking at the empty walls – well, empty except the nails that used to hold their shared pictures with his ex-girlfriend. That's really all that's left of her.

He's brought back to reality with her fingers gently touching his arm as she doubles over in laughter, and when he looks at her with a questioning look in his eyes, she just pants out "your dancing", pointing at him. He glances down, as if he could see exactly what she means, and though he's not sure what she found so funny, he just accepts gracefully that he's made her laugh, again, even if he did so unintentionally.

Hoping to be imperceptible in his motives, he moves closer to the girl with the help of his dance moves, wondering what might happen if he brushed his fingers against hers. In an act of who cares bravery, he just goes for it. She stayed with him for a reason, it's not like she doesn't want him to be there. And holding hands isn't that big of a leap to take, he's not trying to kiss her or something.

So his fingers move, and weave their way around hers until he's finally found a proper hold on them. She gives him a reassuring squeeze only a moment later, and her smile gets even wider, if that's possible. Daniel feels happiness fill his chest, a kind that he hasn't felt in a long time, not in his career, not in his personal life. Maybe there's a way to move past his ex and the past few years. Maybe all he needs is her.

And looking into those gorgeous, sparkling eyes, he feels like he's right. For once in his life, he's finally going to make the right decision.

Close to their third anniversary Daniel finds a little souvenir that he once got for his previous girlfriend, and the memories come flooding back. This time though, he's not filled with misery, thinking of all those months, and with a small grin on his face, he realises that his current relationship has already lasted more than the one he had with that girl did. For some inexplicable reason, he finds this reassuring. Exciting. Happy.

He slides down to the rug beneath his feet, pressing his back against the side of the sofa – the one he got quite fond of in the past few months, something that he won't ever admit to her, as she had to spend weeks to convince him to let her buy it –, and though his eyes are open, he doesn't really see what's in front of him.

His fingers play with the little figurine, and lets his mind travel back in time to that very day when he met the love of his life. All thanks to another girl he once loved. There's quite a bit of irony in that, he has to admit.

If he wasn't deep in sadness that day, being left by a girl, he wouldn't have gone to that bar. If he was still in a relationship, he would've been at home, enjoying time with his girlfriend of the time. Hell, he almost stayed at home anyway, in his sorrow, all alone. It feels like he won the lottery by that small decision that he eventually got up and went out on that fateful Friday night. He would've missed out on the almost exactly 1100 days of happiness he got just by knowing the girl who he spilled his drink on.

If there was still a her back then, and he wasn't single, there definitely wouldn't have been a them now. It's crazy to think, and makes him ponder if in an other universe, it all played out differently. He feels pity for the version of him in those other lives. This is definitely the best variety of how his life could have gone.

Then he hears keys jingling at the front door, signalling that this wonder of a woman he gets to call his own is just about to walk through and flash a smile worth a million diamonds at him.

"Well, thank God she broke my heart," he mumbles to no one in particular, as he pushes himself up from the floor, eager to see her as soon as possible.

a/n: i'm back from the dead again! gosh, can't believe how insane and busy this year has been for me, i'm so determined to write more now though, hopefully i can actually do it. until then, here we go with another short fic for all your reading pleasure! xx

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

taglist: @formulapierre

[lilyarchived]

behind closed doors [simon "ghost" riley]

a/n: URGH this idea literally came from a silly twitter picture, PLEASE SEND ASKS YOU CAN SEE HOW DESPERATE I AM FOR IDEAS!! Also thank you for the love on my first post, you guys are awesome!

warnings: gn! reader, reader has a breakdown, jealousy, cursing, angst (to fluff), 0.7k words.

summary: you overheard a conversation that included you, and it wasn't a positive talk.

"Ghost, please. leave me alone." you whimper as you walk away from your lieutenant just following behind you. “Not until you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.” he replies in that same old gruff voice since the day you met. 

You were wandering through the base, having done all the tasks Price had assigned ya. Hearing a familiar deep voice in one of the rooms, you were about to enter but a flash of hesitation hit you once you heard your name. “[mumbled] and what [scrambled] about [scrambled] [Y/N]?” muttered soap, his voice an unserious tone. You gulp, wondering if the context was negative or positive. “What about them?” your heart drops, did he really think nothing of you? Of course not, you were overthinking, you assure yourself this was just ghost being ghost. “I don’t mean to pry ya, lad. Don’t you and [mumbled] have something going on?” your smile reappears after soap’s suspicion. You were about to burst in, smiling, before hearing ghost’s voice once more. “What? No. There was never ‘anything’ between us.”

 Oh. Tears blur your vision before hearing soap say “Ah. So you’re pretty serious about this one you’ve been talking to, huh?” You run away before your heart shatters even more.

“Don’t bullshit me Simon. I heard you in there with Johnny.” You finally turn around once you’re out in the training field, only this time it was empty. You’ve never seen it this empty. What a strange sight. You bring your hands up to your head, fuzzying your hair as you scoff and fold your arms, waiting for ghost to respond. He just looks at you with those same deadpanned eyes, only this time it was laced with a confused look. “What?” he voices in a hushed manner.

 You could only fall to the rough ground as you broke down in an out-of-breath manner. Hearing Simon's footstep’s rummage through and leveling with you to hold you in his arms, his grasp tight as he hushes your cries.

“[Y/N], did you get those files i asked yo-” he barely got to finish his sentence before you dropped them at his hands and began to make your way out. “Gotta go, I'll see you later, Kyle.” you utter, quickly shutting the door behind you. “What’s up with them?” Simon asked Kyle, eyes wide with how the normally-clingy [Y/N] was now being avoidant. “You cannot be that fucking stupid, LT.” Kyle remarked. “What?” ghost asked, voice slightly raised now. Gaz scoffs, “You shit talked them to Soap, you think they wouldn’t find out?” he added. “I never said anythi- fuck. I wasn’t-” Kyle just raised an eyebrow, letting his lieutenant explain himself. “I was telling Johnny how much i like them.” Kyle drops his pen whilst smirking, clearly intrigued now. “Go after them, idiot!” he yells, as Simon bolts outside, in search of you.

And now here you were, in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. ‘How pathetic.’ you think. “Do I mean nothing to you? All those nights, those- stupid breaks I spent with you, getting to know you, nothing?” Simon’s heart aches as he hears your broken voice, feeling immense guilt creep up. “[Y/N], I was telling Johnny how I wanted to be with you.” your sobs quiet down, trying to process what he just said. “There’s no one else?” you whisper, silent cries slipping.

“Really? And what about that gyal you were talking to, Sarah? still want [Y/N]?” – “I don’t mean to pry ya, lad. Don’t you and Sarah have something going on?”

He was denying ever having ‘something’ with a different girl. It all seems foolishly funny now. You laugh through your tear stained cheeks as you punch Ghost on the chest playfully. "i hate you." your voice softer than before, if that were even possible. “It’s you, it’s always been you.” he explained, in that same old gruff voice since the day you met. Only this time, it held more emotion than ever.

[potatoplace]

Whispers

Feysand x Reader

Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist

Story Summary: You meet Feyre and Rhys on your one Friday night off in a blue moon, dancing your heart out at Rita's. The three of you have a whirlwind romance, them going from your High Lord and Lady to the two people you spend the most time with. What happens when a snake whispers in your ear?

Warnings: manipulation, some mild angst (I don't think I made it painful enough...) and allusions to smut... shitty friend

Words: ~4.9k

Author's Note: this is a request from @loving-and-dreaming!! I changed it up a tiny bit, mainly in the way the friend was shitty to reader, so I hope you still like it! ALSO the friend is named Taylor because my ex bestie was named Taylor and uhhh 'convinced' my bf (her ex (she said it was okay!!!!)) into breaking up with me and 'dating' him... so... same vibes tbh. THE SNAKE BIT. IM SORRY MISS SWIFT. IT JUST WORKED. YOU ARE NOT THE INSPO FOR SHITTY FRIEND. So now that that's out of the way... Enjoy!!

18+ only pls

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

Your relationship with your High Lord and Lady was… fast paced, to say the least.

You had met one night, dancing your worries away at Rita’s, instead of pouring the drinks, a rarity for you on a Friday night.

You’d had your arms above your head while you swayed to the beat, eyes closed and listening to the music when a pair of slender hands rested themselves on your waist, a warm body pulling up behind you.

Opening your eyes, you were face to face with the most handsome High Lord, possibly the most handsome male you had ever laid eyes on. His violet eyes sparkled with mischief, especially once the hands resting on your waist began to trail upwards, his eyes tracking their path as they made their way to rest just underneath your breasts, teasing the exposed skin there.

If you had to venture a guess, you believed it was your High Lady behind you, her fingers playing along the edge of your tiny, tiny shirt.

“Having a good night, sweetheart?” A sultry voice asked in your ear, lips close enough you could feel her warm breath. A delightful shiver raced down your spine, and if your High Lord’s eyes were any indicator, they had both noticed.

You turned in the female’s arms, putting your High Lord to your back, an opportunity that he didn’t waste as he closed in the space, his own hands resting on your hips now.

It was your High Lady, as beautiful and breathtaking as ever. Her blue eyes sparkled in delight when your arms came to loop around her neck.

“I am now,” you said coyly, grinning up at her.

“Hmm…” Your High Lord hummed against your neck, lips already ghosting over your pulse point, greedily scenting you. “I could say the same, couldn’t you, Feyre?”

“Definitely, Rhys,” Feyre sighed happily, and leaned forward slowly, eyes locked on your lips.

You closed the distance, the alcohol in your system making you bold- after all, this was your mated High Lord and Lady, never in a million years did you think they would be interested in you. It was rare enough to be mated, even rarer for said couple to be open to added partners outside of the bond.

Her lips were so, so soft, and the way her hands tightened on your sides had you deepening the kiss, tongues beginning to dance with each other.

Rhys’s hands slowly moved, coming to rest over the swell of your ass and squeezing gently before returning to your hips. His mouth, though…

His mouth had already sucked a couple of dark marks along the expanse of your neck, claiming you as theirs for the night.

Feyre broke away from you, breathing heavily as she took in your flushed face with lust drunk eyes.

“Want to make this night even better?” Feyre offered in a breathy voice, and that alone was enough to convince you.

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes already stuck on her lips again.

That was all your High Lord needed to winnow the three of you away, straight into an attractively furnished bedroom.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

The next morning, you awoke, tucked between two warm bodies, their arms wrapped over you and your legs intertwined.

You attempted to free yourself quickly and quietly, but their arms around you were like a vice, and you couldn’t seem to get your legs free.

“Mm, good morning,” Rhys said into your ear, his voice thick with sleep. He was at your back, and obviously aroused, if his hardness pressing into your back was anything to go by.

Your cheeks flamed, you had hoped to be gone before you were kicked out, but it was too late now.

“Good morning,” you whispered, attempting to not wake the High Lady, still sleeping peacefully in front of you.

Rhys nuzzled into your neck, placing a soft kiss just under your ear. “Were you trying to leave?”

Your cheeks reddened even further- now you had been caught attempting to leave before they woke.

“Yes…”

“Feyre,” he said, more loudly than before. “Feyre, our little lynx was trying to leave before we woke up.”

Feyre’s eyes flew open, and her lips automatically fell into a pout. “Why would you do that, little lynx?” She asked, a hand coming up to caress your face. “Did you not have a good night?”

The sadness in her eyes had you instantly replying, “No, no, I just… thought you might want me to leave before the morning.”

“And why would we want that, sweetheart?” Rhys asked, running one of his hands along your side soothingly. “I know that I had a wonderful night with you.”

“And I did too,” Feyre hummed in agreement, her thumb smoothing across your cheek bone. Your eyes fluttered shut, their soft touch so, so nice.

“I did too,” you admitted quietly.

“So what’s the problem, little lynx?” Feyre asked, tapping on your cheek to get your eyes to open.

You bit your lip as you took in what they’d said. “There isn’t one, I suppose…”

Feyre smiled brightly, leaning in for a gentle kiss. “Have breakfast with us then?” She asked hopefully, that same sparkle from last night in her eyes.

You couldn’t help but smile back, answering, “Yes, I’d love that.”

“I’ll get to cooking,” Rhys said, but turned your head to him for a soft kiss of his own before throwing the covers off of himself, standing tall with pride as your eyes greedily took in his naked form. He smirked playfully at you before going to their wardrobe and throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, then left their bedroom.

Feyre’s soft hand on your waist got you to turn back around, facing the beautiful female in front of you. “Did you want some different clothes to wear?” She asked, hand tracing a pattern on your skin.

“Yes, that would be nice, Feyre…” you trailed off.

Fuck it, you thought, and snuggled further into Feyre’s embrace. Her arms tightened around you, and you sighed contentedly as your face rested just above her breasts, head tucked beneath her chin.

“Can we stay here for a little bit?” You asked quietly, shy even though the two of you had been so intimate last night.

“Of course, little lynx,” Feyre assured softly, one of her hands running up and down your back slowly.

The two of you had almost fallen asleep again when Rhys came back into the room, chuckling when he saw the two of you wrapped in each other.

“Come on, ladies,” he said amusedly, slowly peeling the blankets off of both of you, making you both whine at the loss of heat. He sighed before replacing the blanket. “Breakfast in bed?”

“Yes, please, Rhysie,” Feyre answered, pressing a sleepy kiss to your head.

“Thank you,” you said, your words muffled by Feyre’s skin.

Rhys returned a few minutes later with two breakfast trays, and you and Feyre finally had to sit up against the headboard. He placed a tray over both of you, and grabbed two extremely soft shirts, handing one to each of you before leaving to grab his own food.

You blushed and thanked him, sliding the shirt over your head and taking in the breakfast he had made.

Chocolate chip pancakes, little sausages, and orange slices, as well as a mug of tea.

“Thank you for breakfast,” you said once he returned to the room, quickly sliding under the covers and placing his own tray over his legs. Feyre hummed in agreement, a bite of pancake already in her mouth.

“Of course, little lynx. We don’t want you to leave hungry, after all,” he replied, smiling at you.

“In fact…” Feyre began. “We don’t want you to leave at all."

Your breath caught in your throat, taken aback by such a quick suggestion.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Feyre laughed, a gentle hand on your back. “I meant, we would like to continue… this. Date, even,” Feyre suggested.

“Oh,” you said nervously, a hand rubbing the back of your neck. “I, uhm… I think I’d like that.”

“Good, we’d like it too,” Rhys said sincerely. “Now, eat up little lynx.”

You did as he said, comforted by the fact that the two of them liked you enough to want to date you. The High Lord and Lady. Date you.

“Now now, none of that sweetheart,” Feyre said in a slightly disapproving tone.

“What?” You asked, eyes wide as you looked at her.

“Shit. I’m so sorry, love, I accidentally used my daemati powers,” Feyre apologized, her head in her hands. Your cheeks flamed, she had heard that?

“We’ll get your mental shields strong enough that we can’t even break in, don’t worry sweetheart,” Rhys reassured you. “And we will be very, very careful to stay out of your mind, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed. Having your mental shields trained would be good, anyways. “And it’s okay, Feyre, you didn’t mean to.” You comforted her with a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, little lynx. I will be so careful, I promise.”

You smiled brightly at her, then turned back to your food.

“These pancakes are really tasty Rhys.”

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

That night, you had a shift at Rita’s, thankfully with your best friend, Taylor. You needed to tell her about last night.

So you did.

And she happily listened, up until the part where they’d asked you to date them.

“Really?” She asked incredulously. “Are you sure they wanted to date you?”

“Yes, they made it very clear, Tay. Is it… really that crazy to believe?”

Taylor shook her head and giggled. “No, no, it’s just that I thought they might have meant it in a ‘let’s be fuck friends’ kind of way. But it’s good to know that it’s romance they want!”

You nodded your head in agreement, but a small seed of doubt had already planted itself in your gut. “Yeah, it is.”

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

For your first date, Rhys and Feyre took you out to Sevenda’s- they even rented the whole restaurant for the night, so you would be as comfortable as possible. It was absolutely perfect, the food was delicious and you found that you really did get along with the pair. You were able to banter with them, and make little jokes here and there, like you had known them for a long time, not a week. You loved art like Feyre did, seeing beauty in every corner of the world- you worked with pottery, she worked with paints. Rhys had the same love of the stars and planets as you did, both of you were able to lose yourselves in a conversation about the various constellations and planets that had been discovered so far.

And, of course, the three of you got along very well physically.

Something about the sex you had with them was just… magical. Right. Like all of the other times you’d had sex before were the warm up for being with the both of them, absolutely losing yourself in the giving and receiving of pleasure.

The next shift that you had with Taylor, you gushed about the date, how perfectly it had gone, and how you had a group date and two individual dates set up with the two of them in the next week.

“I feel so lucky, Tay. Like all of the hardships in my life happened to lead me to this moment, this relationship,” you rambled, before realizing you had been talking about them for almost the entirety of your break.

“I’m happy for you, Y/N,” Taylor said, smiling brightly at you.

You returned the expression. “Thank you, Tay. Well, we should probably get back to work.”

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

Two months later, you were convinced you were in love.

Your High Lord and Lady had become Rhys and Feyre, who had become your Bat and Star.

You had never truly gotten over how beautifully Feyre shined when she climaxed, and you never expected to.

Rhys had told you he felt the same when you floated the thought his way one night, both of you looking down at Feyre shining, just for the two of you, with so much love in your eyes.

“I just love them so much, Taylor. I can’t… I don’t think I can keep myself from saying it much longer,” you confessed, wringing your hands together as the two of you stood in the alleyway behind Rita’s.

“But, maybe you aren’t saying it for a reason…?” Taylor suggested. “I mean, they are mated… How could you compare?” She asked innocently, horror crossing her face when she met your eyes. “Oh, Y/N, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

Tears pricked at your eyes anyways, knowing that she was right. “I know, I know how you meant it. It just… hurts to be reminded of that sometimes.”

Taylor sighed as she looked at you, a little bit of pity in her eyes. “I’ll cover the bar for ten more minutes, take a little time, okay Y/N?” She suggested gently, patting your arm.

You nodded. “Thank you, Tay. I’ll see you in a few.”

She knocked on the back door, the security guard opening it for her and letting her back inside.

Once the door had shut, you placed your head in your hands. Taylor was right, they are mated.

That didn’t mean they couldn’t love you, though.

With that thought in mind, you wiped the corners of your eyes, clearing any lingering tears, then closed your eyes and took a few deep, steadying breaths before knocking on the door yourself, returning to your spot behind the bar.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

“Move in with us.”

“I- what?”

“Move in with us.” Feyre said it, this time.

“Three months is a little… fast to move in…?”

Rhys chuckled lightly. “I told you she’d say that, Fey.”

Feyre shook her head. “You can move in here and keep your apartment until you’re sure you want to stay with us, if that’s what you’re worried about little lynx.”

“Hm… okay. Yes, I’ll move in with you,” you confirmed, and Rhys picked you up and spun you around, and once he’d set you down, Feyre wrapped her arms tightly around you and began peppering kisses all over your face, only stopping once you were giggling and lightly pushing her away from you.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

It had been a month since you had moved in, and you had no doubts in your mind that this was where you wanted to be.

The night you moved in, you cooked a meal for the two of them, and confessed your love to the both of them.

They had not returned the words, but their actions and promise that they were well on the way comforted you just the same.

Taylor, however, seemed to think differently.

“That’s what people say when they know they don’t love you, Y/N. Don’t you think they feel obligated to say that to you? I mean, they did offer for you to move in… it would be pretty cruel of them to ask you to move out so quickly.”

Your heart sank into your stomach, doubt and shame and embarrassment washing over you in crashing waves. If Taylor didn’t think it was working…

“But… we spend so much time together,” you started.

“Because you’re always around them,” Taylor countered, giving you a pointed look. “Try spending less time together, and if they seek you out, then they actually like you. If they don’t… I’m sorry, but I would start moving my things back into my apartment, if I were you,” Taylor said sadly, patting you on the back as tears streaked down your face.

She went back into Rita’s, leaving you crying in the alleyway behind the bar.

She’s right. I should pull away some, and see if they follow.

So you did. Over the next week, you spent more time in the pottery studio than you had in the past month, throwing yourself into making a beautiful vase, detailed with the constellations you saw every night, gazing at the stars with your lovers.

Just thinking of them when they weren’t in the room made tears well in your eyes.

You had stopped spending so much time during the day in Rhys’s study as he worked, after all, he had only asked you to join him on a few occasions- you were the one who had made it a near daily ritual.

Your evenings before work were, of course, spent at the pottery studio instead of Feyre’s studio, giving her some much needed air, clean of your presence.

You heart broke every night, returning to their townhome- because, after all, it was their townhome, not all of yours.

If they had noticed you retreating, they hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t noticed a single time you had pulled away from them, spent less time with them.

Every night that you warmed their bed, you felt a piece of yourself die inside.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

“If you’re that miserable with them, Y/N, maybe you should break up with them,” Taylor suggested, her annoyance evident. “I’m getting tired of listening to you whine about how little they notice you.”

“Hey,” you said, tears welling in your eyes- a near constant for you, after the past two weeks.

Taylor sighed. “I’m sorry, that was rude. But honestly, Y/N. It hurts for me to see you like this almost every night.”

“I know, I’m sorry Tay. You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” you sniffled, wiping at your teary eyes.

“Just… get ready to work again, break is almost up, okay?”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see, already having knocked on the door and facing away from you. You let yourself sniffle for a couple more minutes before heading back inside.

Feyre and Rhys had entered the bar while you were away, already having stuck up a conversation with Taylor.

She’s cuter than you, maybe they’re bored of you and moving on to someone better, your brain hissed at you, and you felt like you were going to be sick.

You rushed over to your manager before the two of them could spot you, and begged “Can I please go home early? I feel like I’m going to hurl all over the place.”

Your manager looked you up and down, and took in your teary eyes and a hand covering your stomach. “Get home safe, girl,” she said, opening the back door for you.

“Thank you, I will.”

You rushed back home- your home, not the one you had been sharing with Rhys and Feyre. When you reached your door, your threw it open and slammed it behind you, sliding down against it and collapsing into yourself, sobbing pathetically.

You couldn’t do this anymore.

Taylor was right, you needed to break things off- but you didn’t think you could bear to do it, not with them in front of you.

After some time had passed- an hour, maybe two- you managed to drag yourself into your bedroom.

You hadn’t realized how barren it looked in here, without all of your clothes and favorite blankets.

It was empty, just as your hopes for a future with your perfect Bat and Star felt.

You cried yourself to sleep, hugging your knees tightly to your chest as you felt your world break apart.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

The next morning, you were more exhausted than when you went to bed.

You had slept like utter shit that night, tossing and turning and crying.

You had shed so many tears, the Sidra probably had a new tributary by now.

Nothing made you feel better, not the bath that you forced yourself into, or the tea you made for yourself.

You were sitting on your couch in the living room, wrapped in a green blanket- your least favorite one, but the purple and blue ones that you liked so much more reminded you so strongly of your lovers’ eyes that you couldn’t stand to look at them.

Tears were still streaming down your cheeks when a knock came at your door- patient but firm.

You stayed where you were, unable to move, let alone walk to the door.

Another knock, this time a bit more impatient.

Still, you didn’t move.

Another, almost… frantic?

Another, hard, nearly shaking the door in its frame.

You still couldn’t move.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Came Feyre’s soft voice, tinged with worry.

You said nothing, hardly even breathed as tears continued to carve a permanent path through your skin.

“Y/N, I can hear your heartbeat, just let us in, please?” Rhys asked, his voice more demanding than Feyre’s but filled with panic.

You couldn’t move, not one muscle.

One more clearly frantic knock, before someone- Rhys- tapped on your mental shields.

He had spoken the truth, that you would be able to keep them out. You kept them out now, terrified to know what they were going to say.

“Please, little lynx, just let me in, we're worried about you,” Rhys begged into your mind.

And that broke you. Your walls collapsed, and Rhys entered carefully, his presence wrapping around your mind as he did.

“Oh, little lynx,” Rhys cooed, his arms wrapping around you as Feyre came to sit behind you pulling you into her arms. “None of those thoughts are true, my love.”

They had winnowed in.

They were worried about you enough- cared enough- to winnow into your home to check on you.

You sobbed, collapsing back into Feyre as your arms wiggled out of the blanket and pulled Rhys towards you, burying your face in his chest.

You cried for- you weren’t even sure, it had been so long.

But Feyre and Rhys stayed, physically and mentally wrapped around you the entire time, whispering sweet nothings and reassurances in your ear, in your mind.

Eventually, you quieted down, and your tears dried. It was only then that you let yourself pull away from Rhys’s solid, comforting chest and look them both in the eyes, mortified at your behavior.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologized, wiping at your eyes.

“What are you sorry for, little lynx?” Feyre asked, pushing your hair back from your face gently.

“For- for being such a big baby,” you said, more tears, somehow, welling in your eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart. You have nothing to apologize for. That snake however…” Rhys hissed, and it was then that you remembered they had been in your mind, seeing every horrid interaction and thought you’d had in the past two weeks.

“Taylor was just trying to help me,” you explained, sure that your friend had done no wrong.

“No she wasn’t, little lynx,” Feyre sighed. “When you told us you loved us, how did you feel afterwards, when we told you we just needed a little more time?”

You thought back to it- “Happy. I was so, so happy.”

“And after you talked with… Taylor?” Rhys asked.

Your face scrunched. “Like… like you guys had lied to me…” you confessed, so ashamed that you had ever felt that way about them.

“And were there other times that she tried to dull your happiness?”

You sniffled as you nodded.

She… Taylor, your own friend… had betrayed you.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” Rhys said, kissing your forehead gently. “I wish it wasn’t true.”

“I… I need to talk to her. Will you come with me?” You asked shyly, peering up at the both of them through your lashes.

“Of course we will, little lynx,” Feyre agreed, already helping unravel the rest of your body from the blanket.

Once you were free, you stood up, surprised at how much their kind, reassuring words had helped lighten your fears.

“Before we go…” Rhys started.

“We… well, we had been trying to plan a special night to tell you, but…”

“I love you,” the two of them said in unison.

And just like that, your heart was soaring.

Tears streamed down your face, but these ones were happy, and you pushed yourself into their embrace, one arm around each of them. “I love you too,” you mumbled in a watery voice, making both of them laugh softly.

“We know, little lynx. And we will spend so, so long proving it to you, whenever you need us to,” Feyre promised, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“In or out of the bedroom,” Rhys added with a smile, pressing his own lips to yours. “Now, let’s go teach that little snake a lesson.”

“Rhysand,” Feyre warned, smacking him on the arm. “You will let Y/N say what she wants, and then if she feels it’s appropriate, you can scare the shit out of her.”

Rhys made a pouty face, and you couldn’t help but giggle. “If you don’t get to scare her, I’ll make you whatever food you want for dinner tomorrow night.”

His frown turned to a bright smile. “Sounds good, little lynx. You know it’ll be soup you make, right?”

You merely shook you merely shook your head at him. Of course you knew, it was his absolute favorite dish you made. And you wouldn’t tell him now, but you’d be making it either way.

You loved the soup too, after all.

The three of you made your way to Taylor’s apartment quickly, your blood filled with rage at the way she had manipulated you. And for what?

You made Rhys and Feyre stand at the end of the alley while you knocked on her door, wanting to have this conversation as privately as you could.

The door swung open, revealing a well rested Taylor.

“Wow, you look like hell,” Taylor greeted, opening the door wider and letting you inside.

“Thanks…” You said, disappointed in your friend already.

“Did you break up with them?” Taylor asked once she had shut the door.

“No.”

“Why not?” Taylor asked angrily. “They hardly pay you any attention at all, why would you stick around to be with them for hardly anything?”

“Why do you care so much that I break up with them, Taylor?” You asked venomously, done with her insulting your lovers.

“Because, they’re hurting you!”

“No, they aren’t Taylor. You know who has made this relationship so rocky? You,” you spat at her.

“Because you don’t deserve them!” Taylor shouted at you. “I deserve them, not some stupid little twit like you!”

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head. “I cannot believe you,” you scoffed. “You did all this because you were jealous of me?! Do you have any idea of how fucked up that is?!”

“It’s not fucked up if the person you’re doing it to is a skank,” Taylor spat.

And you slapped her.

Hard.

Hard enough to whip her head to the side, redness blooming on her skin.

“Don’t speak to me, ever.”

And with that, you turned on your heel and left her apartment, slamming the door behind you.

“I’m scaring her,” Rhys declared when you reached them. “No one can talk to you that way.”

“I know, Rhys. That’s why I slapped her. But feel free to scare her anyways, bitch deserves it. Just scare,” you said, pushing your body into Feyre’s arms and relaxing in her firm hold.

“Understood, love.”

A scream came from the direction of Taylor’s apartment.

“Every time she looks in the mirror, she sees a shadowy figure behind her,” Rhys explained, laughing to himself. “If she looks too close it starts to get disturbing features, too.”

Feyre shook her head, clearly disapproving, but also amused.

“Just make it stop in a month or two, okay my bat?” You asked him, a hand on his arm.

He turned to look at you, a grin spreading over his lips. “Of course, little lynx. Whatever you want.”

“… Whatever I want?” You asked, grinning up at him.

“Anything at all,” Feyre whispered lowly in your ear.

“Can we… go home?”

In an instant, the three of you were back in your bedroom. The only one you needed, from now on.

“Bath?” You asked next, and the two of them began stripping you of your clothes in an instant, making you giggle at them. “All of us?”

“Of course, sweetheart, we just wanted to get you ready first,” Feyre said, pressing soft kisses to your neck.

“We have so much to make up for, including us letting you pull away, darling. You may just be stuck in this room with us until dinner tomorrow night,” Rhys teased as he rid himself of his pesky clothing, turning to Feyre next, who reluctantly gave up her spot sucking on your neck to let him undress her.

“Good, I’ll accept nothing less,” you said, giggling when Rhys hoisted you into his arms and speed walked into the bathroom, where the tub was already filled with steaming water. He gently set you in, before climbing in himself, followed by Feyre.

“Let’s start with getting you squeaky clean, and free of all those sad, sad thoughts, only filled with how much we love you,” Feyre crooned into your ear as she slowly lowered you so you were mostly covered by the water, in between the two of them.

“That sounds perfect, my sweet star,” you sighed, relaxing into their caring hold, feeling safe for the first time in two weeks.

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