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whosashan · 28 days ago

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Silent treatment

How I think the LaDS men would react to being given the Silent treatment by you!

Xavier

Xavier is a patient man—truly, he is. He’s long grown accustomed to your peculiar ways, your little oddities. At times, he struggles to make sense of your antics, yet somehow, that only makes you all the more endearing to him.

The two of you sat across from each other on the couch in your apartment, the dim glow of the television flickering across your faces. The faint scent of vanilla lingering in the air from a candle burning on the coffee table, mixing with the remnants of popcorn and the intoxicating scent of your lover. A movie played—a familiar pastime for the both of you whenever time allowed with your busy schedules. You stole a glance at him, watching the way he sipped on the drink you had made earlier, fingers loosely curled around the mug, his gaze fixed on the screen. The rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the ceramic told you he was completely absorbed.

It was only when he finally noticed your unwavering stare that he turned to meet your gaze. And for a brief moment, he could have sworn that if looks could kill, he’d already be dead.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. Concern laced his voice, reflected in the blue of his eyes. Ironically, the sight of his worry only seemed to frustrate you further.

Since the moment he arrived, he had barely paid you any attention, too caught up in the film to acknowledge you properly. It was frustrating—how could he? He should be paying attention to you, not some cliché movie about time travel. The urge to turn it off crossed your mind, but you decided not to do that. You didn’t want him to notice how irritated you were.

Instead of answering, you merely turned your gaze back to the screen, feigning indifference. Even then, you could feel his eyes lingering on you, his confusion palpable.

The couch dipped slightly as he shifted closer, his warmth seeping into your skin. The space between you shrank, yet you remained still, stubborn in your silence.

"Baby..." His voice was soft, coaxing, and it took every ounce of restraint not to let your resolve crumble right then and there. His touch, his tone—it all made your heart ache in the most infuriating way. But pride held you firm, so you continued to ignore him.

And then, without warning, you felt him nuzzle into the crook of your neck, breathing you in as if he could commit your scent to memory. A shiver ran through you, your body tensing for a split second before surrendering to his warmth. He placed a slow, deliberate kiss just below your jaw.

"Talk to me." His voice had taken on a firmer edge now, more insistent, though still laced with quiet desperation.

When silence was his only answer, he did something unexpected. A sharp sting bloomed against your neck. He had bitten you.

"Xavier!" you gasped, jolting in surprise.

"So you do hear me," he murmured, exhaling softly, almost as if in relief.

You turned to face him at last, pouting. He was smiling—just barely—but there was no mistaking the satisfaction in his expression. He had won. He always did, you could never truly say no to him.

"Will you finally tell me what's on your mind, princess?" The pet name sent butterflies straight to your stomach, quickening your heartbeat.

A beat of silence passed before you relented, arms crossing in defiance. "You're not paying any attention to me. You’ve been glued to that movie this whole time—what's so fascinating about it, anyway?"

A quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest. He pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek before pulling you into his embrace, his arms winding securely around you.

"Then I suppose I’ll just have to make it up to you," he murmured. "Starting now."

Zayne

"Darling."

Zayne's voice drifted through the quiet apartment, low and slightly hoarse—a telltale sign that he hadn’t been awake for long. It was a rare morning where neither of you had to rush off to work, a quiet reprieve from the usual chaos.

And yet, you remained silent.

Utter disbelief rooted you in place. The audacity. The betrayal. The pastries you had been looking forward to all night, the ones you had carefully chosen to enjoy with your morning coffee, were gone—devoured by none other than your sweet-toothed lover.

Under normal circumstances, it might have been a minor grievance, something to brush off with a sigh and a shake of your head. But after the past few days of relentless stress at work, this was simply the final straw.

You wouldn’t take it out on him, of course. He hadn’t known. It wasn’t his fault.

So instead, you ignored him. Well, at least until you calmed your nerves down.

Rather than making coffee, you opted for tea, hoping it might ease your irritation. You moved through the kitchen quietly, the warm mug cradled in your hands, its steam curling up toward your face.

And then—familiar hands.

Zayne’s arms wrapped around your waist, his touch effortlessly grounding, the press of his lips against the top of your head unbearably tender. He always had a way of melting through your defenses before you even realized it was happening.

His voice, smooth and deliberate, broke the silence. "Is something troubling you?" He rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.

Still, you said nothing.

He shifted slightly, gently turning you to face him. His dark hair was still tousled from sleep, and his eyes, half-lidded and heavy with lingering drowsiness, studied you with quiet curiosity. And for a moment, you faltered. He looked devastatingly good like this—soft and unguarded in the early morning light.

But then, the memory of your missing pastries resurfaced.

"Did I do something to upset you?" His tone remained even, but there was an unmistakable thread of concern woven beneath his usual stoicism. He reached for your free hand, the one not cradling your tea, and brought it to his cheek. His lips brushed over your wrist, something he has done countless times before, his touch effortlessly affectionate, yet it made your heart flutter, gaze softening.

You sighed. This man was going to be the death of you.

"You ate my pastries." Your voice was flat, your brows pulling together in a small frown.

A beat of silence. Then, understanding dawned in his expression.

"Ah," he murmured. "I see."

His grip on your hand didn’t loosen as he met your gaze, unshaken as ever. "I sincerely apologize, love. Allow me to make it up to you—come out with me, and I’ll buy you as many pastries as your heart desires."

You narrowed your eyes slightly. "Are you attempting to bribe me, Dr. Zayne?"

A ghost of a smile played at the corner of his lips, the closest thing to amusement you would get from him this early in the morning.

"Is it working?"

*Is it?*

Rafayel

It was the third time this month that Rafayel had summoned you to his studio under the guise of an "emergency."

And, just like the last two times, there was no real emergency—just another one of his elaborate attempts to steal your attention.

Normally, his antics would have made you smile, maybe even laugh. You’d always found his dramatic nature endearing, his endless need for your presence almost charming. But work had been relentless lately, stretching you thin. The days blurred together in a mess of exhaustion, your mind too preoccupied with tasks and responsibilities to indulge him as easily as before.

The first time, you found it amusing. The second, you let it slide. After all, how could you deny your lover a bit of attention? But now, standing in the middle of his paint-streaked studio, his so-called "emergency" nothing more than an empty excuse, you could feel frustration simmering beneath your skin.

"Y/N!" Rafayel’s voice carried through the room, laced with exaggerated despair as he reached for your hand, his fingers wrapping around your wrist before you could step out the door.

You paused but said nothing.

His grip tightened just slightly, his expression shifting into something almost comically wounded. "Are you actually mad at me?" He blinked at you, as if the very idea was beyond comprehension. It was clear he hadn't considered that disrupting your work might genuinely frustrate you.

You turned to face him, your expression firm. The moment his gaze met yours, he pouted—a soft, almost theatrical downturn of his lips that tugged at your heart despite your irritation.

Damn him.

You sighed, tearing your eyes away and attempting to leave again, but Rafayel wasn’t having it. His hold on your wrist remained firm, his grip gentle but insistent.

"Wait—I'm sorry!" His voice pitched slightly in alarm, his usual playful demeanor faltering as he scrambled to fix the situation. "I didn’t mean to make you mad. I just…" He hesitated, shoulders slumping slightly. "I just wanted to see you."

There was something so utterly boyish about the way he said it—so completely unguarded. You could hear the pout in his voice even without looking at him.

You exhaled slowly, some of your frustration ebbing away.

"Rafayel…" you murmured, your voice softer now. Turning back to him, you reached up, cupping his face in your hands. He leaned into your touch instinctively, his paint-smudged fingers ghosting over your own.

"I'm not mad that you want to spend time with me," you reassured him gently. "But you can’t keep making up emergencies when you know I’m working. It’s not fair, love."

His brows knit together, guilt flickering across his features.

You huffed out a small laugh. "I’ll take a day off soon, and when I do, I’ll be all yours. No interruptions, I promise."

The transformation was instant. His entire face lit up, joy replacing every trace of guilt as he all but tackled you into his embrace, arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go.

"You swear it?" His voice was muffled against your shoulder.

"I swear."

Rafayel pulled back just enough to grin at you, that familiar spark of mischief returning to his gaze. "Good. Because I already have about ten different date ideas, and I expect full participation."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Of course you do."

And just like that, your frustration melted away.

Sylus

You sat in Sylus' kitchen, at the grand kitchen island, indulging in whatever you felt like having at that moment, though the food did little to ease the frustration simmering beneath your skin.

Mephisto had been following you again.

The mechanical crow had a way of appearing when you least expected it, its glowing eyes tracking your every move like an ever-present specter. It unsettled you, always lingering just at the edge of your vision, a silent observer in the shadows. You even found him in your apartament once, still wondering how he got there.

You had spoken to Sylus about it more times than you could count, but the man seemed utterly unbothered, amused even, by your grievances.

“Are you planning to ignore me all day, sweet girl?” His deep, velvety voice broke through the silence, laced with the usual undertones of amusement. “I’ve already told you—Mephisto has simply taken an extreme liking to you.”

You clenched your jaw, fighting the urge to roll your eyes, and instead busied yourself with your meal. When that wasn’t enough of a distraction, you reached for your phone, scrolling aimlessly through the screen in an attempt to block out his presence.

But Sylus was nothing if not persistent.

You could feel his gaze on you—heavy, assessing, waiting. The subtle heat of his presence grew nearer, the faint scent of his cologne—dark spice and expensive leather—curling around you.

Then, effortlessly, he plucked the phone from your hands.

Your head snapped up, a scowl already settling on your face as you turned to glare at him. He, of course, remained entirely unruffled. A slow smirk curled his lips, and before you could snatch your device back, he tucked it into his pocket.

“You’ll get it back once you decide to talk to me.” He settled onto the stool beside you, elbow resting against the marble, his posture entirely relaxed as he watched your reaction with open amusement.

You huffed, turning away without a word. If he thought this was going to be enough to pull a response from you, he was sorely mistaken.

But you had underestimated Sylus.

The moment you stepped away, you felt his hand catch your waist, firm yet effortless, and in one fluid motion, he pulled you back against him. Your breath hitched as you collided with his chest, the warmth of his body pressing into yours, the scent of him dizzying.

He sighed against your ear, low and indulgent. “You’re being difficult.”

You scoffed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

“I do not wish to be followed and monitored by your mechanical crow. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, thank you very much.”

Sylus hummed, his fingers still resting against your waist as he turned you to face him. His expression remained unreadable, though there was something in his dark gaze—something knowing, something teasing.

“I know you are,” he said smoothly. “Alright, I’ll tell him to tone it down.”

Your brows furrowed, your skepticism evident, but you knew this was the best concession you would get from him.

“You’re terrible,” you muttered, though there was no real venom behind it.

He chuckled, his arms slipping around you fully, pulling you against him in a slow, deliberate embrace.

“Whatever you say, sweetie.”

Caleb

The apartment was warm, bathed in the soft glow of dimmed lights, the scent of home-cooked food still lingering in the air. Rain tapped gently against the windowpanes, a quiet backdrop to the clinking of dishes as Caleb moved around the kitchen, tidying up after dinner.

You sat at the dinner table, absently poking at the meal he had made you, though your appetite had long faded. Something gnawed at you, a strange ache settling in your chest that you couldn’t quite shake.

Caleb, of course, noticed immediately.

"You’re looking at that food like it personally offended you," he quipped, glancing over his shoulder. "What’s wrong, pipsqueak?"

You didn’t answer.

Your frown deepened as you idly pushed your fork against the plate, the silence between you stretching just a little too long.

The sound of running water cut off. Moments later, he was at your side, kneeling beside your chair, bringing himself to your eye level. His presence was steady, familiar—the scent of his cologne mixed with something undeniably Caleb.

Then—poke.

His finger prodded your cheek, once, twice, thrice, in an attempt to get a reaction out of you. Anything. He hated seeing you like this, all quiet and brooding.

"Guess you’re not that talkative now, huh?" His voice was teasing, but his eyes—warm and intent—searched your face for answers. The boyish grin he wore, the same one that had always made your heart falter just a little, did nothing to ease your mood.

You sighed, your gaze drifting—away from him, away from his teasing expression—to his neck. Bare.

The necklace. His necklace. Your necklace. The one you had given him, the one he always wore.

It wasn’t there.

He caught the flicker of emotion that crossed your face, and just like that, he understood. Of course, he did. He had known you for too long, had memorized every little shift in your expression, every mannerism that gave you away.

“I took it off while I was at work,” he admitted, watching you carefully. “Left it in my uniform and forgot to bring it with me.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line.

"But it’s safe," he reassured, reaching up to tousle your hair with a careless grin. “I’ll make sure to bring it next time, okay? Don’t pout on me now.”

You winced. “Caleb! I just washed my hair!”

And just like that, the tension was gone, washed away as you swatted at him in protest. His grin widened as he swiftly dodged your hands, the shift in your mood exactly what he had been aiming for.

The next thing you knew, you were chasing him through the apartment, the air filled with your laughter as he weaved through the furniture, just out of reach.

"Alright, alright, truce!" He lifted his hands in surrender, though the smirk on his lips told you he had no intention of actually stopping.

For now, the necklace was forgotten. For now, there was only this—the warmth, the laughter, the easy way he pulled you back in, just like he always did.

#love and deepspace #caleb x mc #lads xavier #love and deepspace x reader #xavier love and deepspace #xavier x reader #zayne x #lads zayne #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace headcanons

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dreaming-medium · 1 year ago

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Stray Kids Kinktober Day 8

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Breeding - Bang Chan

Word Count: 8.4k

Summary: Your family’s yearly vacation is here and once again, you’re single. To avoid having your dating life be poked and prodded by your relatives, you decide to turn your best friend for a little help. Everyone already knows him! What’s the worst that could happen if he pretends to be your boyfriend for the week?

—————————————————————————

“It’s going to be a disaster,” you lament, leaning your head back over your couch. Your coffee mug gripped tightly in your hand.

A random movie is playing on your TV, but neither you nor your best friend are paying attention.

“It will not,” Chan chides and nudges your arm with his elbow.

He sips his own drink slowly, watching you throw your arm over your eyes.

“Yes it will! Every year my family goes on this vacation to the mountains, and every year I’m reminded that I’m the only single adult in the family.”

You sigh.

“You’re not the only single one, what about your cousin?”

“He started dating someone about a month after last year’s vacation. They’re still together, so she’s coming on the trip.” Your tone switches to something less dramatic. “She’s lovely, by the way, you’d like her. Very friendly.”

Chan laughs. “So, you’re single and alone there, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s your family. ”

“They make fun of me the whole time! And if I do anything my mom doesn’t like, she’ll go ‘this is why you don’t have a boyfriend, Y/N.’ Ugh!”

“Aren’t there only four ‘older’ cousins?”

“Yes, and I’m the only single one above the age of seventeen. I’m twenty four and I am going to die alone.”

Your arm drops from your eyes and you stare up at the ceiling.

The air in your apartment is warm and comfortable. Candles burn on the table beside you, filling the house with a pleasant warm cinnamon scent.

It was always one of Chan’s favorites.

“How long until the trip?” he asks.

“Next weekend.”

“Not enough time for a dating app, huh?”

You force a laugh. “No. Can you imagine? ‘Coffee was great! You wanna come on a week-long vacation with me and my giant, loud family?’ They would run for the hills.”

“Your family is great and you know it.”

“I know, they’re just… obnoxiously close, that’s all. I love them, don’t get me wrong.” You motion your arms up to the ceiling wildly in an exasperated movement. “But if I need to listen to my aunt nitpick my appearance in passive aggressive ways to ‘help’, I might kill myself.”

Chan takes a long sip of his drink. “They’re not that bad.”

You roll your eyes. “They love you so much, what would you know? Every time I bring you around them I always get tons of questions afterwards about you. I think my cousin is in love with you.”

“Which one?”

“Lily.”

“She’s twelve.”

“Twelve and in love with you.”

Both of you sit in silence for a moment. Chan’s attention slides back to the TV. He’s looking at it, but he’s not absorbing what’s really playing.

Same with you, you’re too busy wrapped up in your thoughts when an idea hits you all of a sudden.

“That’s it!” you yell, sitting up straight. Your voice startles Chan and he almost spills his drink all over your couch.

“What? What’s it?” he asks quickly, checking his pants to make sure nothing spilled.

“You can come with me!”

“You want me to go on your family’s yearly vacation in place of a boyfriend?”

“I want you to come on my family’s yearly vacation as my boyfriend.”

Chan’s head snaps over to you, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped. You’re already looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Please, Chan!” you beg before he has a chance to say no. “Please, please, please!” you repeat over and over again.

Placing your coffee on the table, you crawl closer to him on the couch, begging over and over again.

“They already love you so much! It would be so easy ! Plus, it’s all expenses paid! It’s a free vacation to a lake house in the mountains with your best friend!”

“Felix isn’t going.” Chan teases.

You whine and grab his free hand. “No, me! Your best friend! Pretty please Chan! I’ll owe you big time!”

He stares at you for a long moment, thinking it through in his head. You’re staring at him with big, pleading, sparkly eyes. He’s never been able to say no to that look.

He sucks his teeth, head cocking to the side for a second. The hand in yours twitches and he holds it, like a faux-shake.

“Fine,” he says. “But, you owe me dinner.”

Squealing, you throw your arms around his shoulders.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He wraps his beverage-free hand around you and hugs you back. “You’re seriously the best, thank you!”

“I know, I know. Now can we please finish the movie?”

——————————————

The trunk to your car slams shut, Chan dusts his hands off and then rests them on his hips.

“You look like a dad,” you tell him while coming up to the car with your backpack slung over your shoulder.

“A dad who packed the trunk of your car perfectly.” He eyes the backpack on your shoulder. “That goes in the backseat. I’m not opening the trunk again.”

Giggling, you open the backdoor and toss it in.

“Can you drive?” you ask, batting your eyelashes. “You know how much I hate driving.”

Chan sighs and holds his hand out for the keys.

“You’re the best!” you cheer and toss them to him.

“Yeah, you keep saying that.” Chan rolls his eyes and ducks into the driver’s side of the car. “Do you have the address?”

You duck inside the car and start typing on your phone. “I should have it in my texts, one sec.”

Scrolling through your phone, you try to find the text that your aunt sent you with the address. Your family has rented the same AirBnb every year since you were fourteen and yet you could never remember the address of the place.

As you’re searching for it, a phone call from your mom comes in.

“Oh, hold on.” You say to Chan and hit the answer button.

“Hey, ma!” you greet into the phone.

“Hey, sweetie! Are you on your way yet?”

“We just got into the car, actually. We’re about to leave.”

“I thought you would’ve left an hour ago.”

“Chan got held up at work, actually. Not his fault.”

At the mention of his name, Chan perks up and looks over at you, listening to the phone call intently.

“Ah, gotcha. I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you two finally started dating.”

“Yeah, well, it’s still kinda new,” you lie through your teeth. You look up and make eye contact with Chan. “We only became official about…”

His eyes widen and he looks around panicked. Quickly, he holds up three fingers.

“About three week-”

He moves about wildly.

“Months! Three months ago! Sorry, I’m a little distracted putting all the bags in the car.”

Chan reacts to your lie comically, his chin jutting forward, head cocking to the side. You wave him off silently. Your mother doesn’t seem to clock your panic about the situation.

“I always saw how the two of you looked at each other, it was only a matter of time, really.”

A blush crawls up your neck and turns your ears and cheeks red. Chan looks down at his lap and coughs nervously, a blush of his own making its way onto his skin.

“Anyway, we better get going, mom! You know how talking on the phone while driving is illegal and all.”

“Make Chan drive! He’s the boyfriend.”

“You’re so right… And he should do so without putting up a fuss.”

Chan motions down to himself, as if to say ‘I’m already the one in the driver’s seat’. You wave him off again, trying to focus on your mother’s voice.

“Okay, okay, I’ll see you soon, but I expect some questions to be answered when I see you, Y/N!” Her voice is teasing, but it makes your blood run cold.

“Of course, mom. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Bye, love you!”

You don’t give her a chance to answer you before you hang up.

The silence in the car is so loud, the air is so still.

“So,” you say slowly. “We need to come up with a backstory, huh?”

“It seems so.”

Another bout of silence.

Neither of you are looking at each other, you’re both facing forward, staring out the windshield.

“I’ll uh… find the address.”

“Yeah.”

You clear your throat awkwardly and scroll through your phone. Chan waits a second before starting the car.

——————————————

Chan turned one of the final corners of the trip onto the street.

“Our first date?” he asks.

“Coffee at the cafe by my apartment.”

“Second date?”

“Movies, we saw Barbie. We went out to eat afterwards. A diner.”

“When did we become official?”

“Three months ago. May 6th. You asked me after our third date.”

“And?”

“You kissed me at my door.”

“Good.”

You both pause for a moment.

“How come I can’t be the one that kissed you?” you tease him.

Chan laughs out loud and turns the car into the driveway. “As if you would ever make the first move.”

You look at him incredulously. “I so would! You’re the one who gets too nervous to do anything. I say I kissed you, not the other way around.”

“No way, I kissed you.”

Chan puts the car into park.

“Absolutely not. I kissed you first.” you reply.

“Keep dreaming. I walked you to your door, we stood there and talked for a minute. You went to walk inside, but I stopped you and kissed you.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt.

“No, after we talked, there was an awkward silence and I could see how nervous you were and how you kept looking at my lips. So, I took the first step and kissed you.”

Grabbing the door handle, you wrench it open before Chan could issue a rebuttal again.

He calls your name from inside the car and lets out a loud groan afterwards.

“You can’t have all the firsts, now can you?” you call back, walking around to the trunk.

The front door to the house rips open and two of your little cousins come tearing out of the house with happy smiles.

“Y/N! Y/N!” they both call out, sprinting up to you.

Leaning down, you scoop both of them up into a hug with both arms, giving them an equally excited hello. Both of them hug you tightly.

They’re five and nine years old, girl and boy– the youngest of the cousins.

“Look who else I brought with me,” you giggle and look over at Chan, who was watching you from the side of the car. The door still opened, his arm leaning on the top.

Both of their tiny gazes turn towards him and just like that, you’re forgotten about.

“Chan!” They both cheer and run at him full tilt.

He wraps both of them up in his strong arms and picks them off the ground.

“Hello, you two!” he coos and gives them both kisses on their heads.

Something twinges within your heart seeing him interact with the two of them that way, it goes through you like an arrow. His brown eyes are so warm and sparkly holding your two little cousins close to him.

A genuine, bright smile pulled across his beautiful face.

Chan steps away from the car and puts them on the ground, they both complain. “Come on, I need to help Y/N with the bags. I wouldn’t be a good boyfriend if I made her carry them all by herself.”

Your heart thuds again. Boyfriend.

The two kids groan and give in, running back into the house, telling everyone of your arrival.

Chan watches them for a moment before turning to look at you with a sheepish smile. You smile back and knock twice on the hood of your car.

“Come on then, boyfriend. These bags won't carry themselves.”

He laughs and grabs the bags from the trunk, arguing with you when you try to lift some of the heavier bags. Well, you weren’t going to argue about carrying something if you didn’t need to.

The cold air conditioned house was a familiar sight when you walked through the front door. One of your aunts was near the entrance when you first came in.

“Y/N, Chan, you’re here! We have you both in the room down here, I hope that’s okay.” she says, pointing to the room down the hall. It’s one of only three bedrooms on the first floor.

“Yeah! That’s totally fine, thank you.”

You smile and walk to the room, dropping your bags down on the bed.

The singular bed in the room.

Chan follows you inside the room with your bags, plopping them down on the floor by the door. You turn to look at him, he’s staring at the bed, most likely thinking the same thing that you are.

He closes the door behind you both.

“I didn’t think about this part.” you say quietly just in case someone was outside the door.

He shrugs. “Just don’t hog the blankets,” he jokes. Chan brushes it off so easily.

What you don’t know is his heart is racing just as much as yours is. His mouth has gone completely dry and he had to gulp down some nerves before jesting with you.

It’s just a bed, right? Both of you can share a bed, no problem. Not at all.

The two of you have fallen asleep on the couch together before. But, it’s not quite the same as sharing a bedroom for the next week.

“I didn’t think you would need any blankets since you’re a human space heater.” You open your one bag and pull out a few smaller things.

“You’re just jealous because you’re cold all the time.” Chan stands on the other side of the bed, plugging his phone charger into the wall.

“I’m not cold all the time.”

“You’re in a sweatshirt and it’s eighty five degrees outside.”

“We had the air conditioning on in the car.”

There’s a few knocks on the bedroom door. “Dinner!”

——————————————

Contrary to what you both originally thought, your family did not grill the two of you interrogation style about your relationship. Instead, you were met with a lot of “It was only a matter of time”.

Each time one of your family members said something along those lines, both you and Chan would grow extremely shy, faces flushing and hearts racing.

Dinner was held in the back room attached to the large kitchen, a long dining table sat in the room, benches full of your family members lined it.

There were so many of you: eight cousins, three aunts, two uncles, two parents, one sister, one brother in law, one grandmother.

This was not the first time Chan had been around your extremely large family, not at all. He’s around you all the time, especially when he can’t go home to Australia for holidays. You always invite him to your family celebrations, and each time he’s more than thrilled to be there.

Everyone was so happy that he was there; part of you thinks they’re happier to see him than you.

Dinner came and went, it was filled with laughter and stories, like it usually is. Your dad and his brothers all teased one another, bringing up stories of being young in the 70’s and 80’s.

“Let’s do a movie night!” One of your younger cousins turns to her older brother. “You’ve been promising me that we would watch Star Wars.”

“You want to watch Star Wars tonight?” he replies.

“Yes, please! Cousins movie night!" She cheers and grabs her plate. “We can set the couches up like last year!”

Chan leaned over and whispered in your ear, “Movie night?”

“There’s a den upstairs with a couple couches, we push them together to make a giant bed and all watch movies at night. Very common L/N Family Activity on vacation.” you answer, leaning closer to him. “The adults usually go to bed and all the cousins watch movies.”

“Sounds exciting.”

Both of you chuckle and smile at one another. His dimples showing. You two seem to be in your own little bubble.

Chan’s leaning so close his body heat is radiating through your clothes. The fabric of his shirt is brushing against your bare arm.

“You’ll find that there’s a certain schedule to each day, breakfast, play down at the lake, lunch, back to the lake, get ready for dinner, eat dinner, movie time.”

“I think I can get used to that.”

“You better.”

A throat clears by you. Your aunt is looking at the two of you with a playful smile. “Are you both going to help clean up or what?”

——————————————

“Dibs on sitting next to Y/N!” One of your little cousins calls out after you all finished pushing the couches together.

“No, I want to sit next to her!” Another yells out.

The youngest runs up and throws his arms around your hips, hugging you close to him. Both arms don’t make it around you all the way.

“No, me!”

You laugh and ruffle his hair. He holds you tighter and it knocks you off balance slightly.

“Come on, hon, you got to sit next to me at dinner, let someone else have a turn.” you coo down to him.

“No!” he pouts and hugs you tighter. You grimace and try to pry his arms off you.

Chan comes out of nowhere and picks your cousin off the ground in one fell swoop. “How about me, huh?” he teases and tickles your cousin with his one free hand.

Your cousin starts giggling like crazy.

“Don’t I get to sit next to my girlfriend?” he jokes and tickles him even more.

The biggest smile stretches over your face, heart warming once more.

Chan drops your cousin onto the couches, he bounces a bit, still laughing.

The tickle torture continues now that both of Chan’s hands are free. Giggles turn into cackles.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t fight the smile on your face and the feeling that stirs in your stomach. Are you ovulating? You have to be. There’s no other explanation for the flutter within your chest.

He just looks so natural like that. The teasing looked adorable.

It wasn’t until one of your older cousins came into the room before your gaze was taken away from Chan.

“Lovesick, eh?” he says in your ear.

“Oh, shut up.” You hit him in the arm.

“I know that look anywhere, Y/N. You can’t fool me.” He laughs and then walks to take his spot on the big couch huddle with his girlfriend.

Chan picks your little cousin up by the ankle and starts dragging him around. Both of their laughter was music to your ears.

“Okay, okay! Move time!” You call out to the two of them. Chan looks over at you immediately with the goofiest grin on his face.

Your little cousin groans.

“Give me my boyfriend back,” you tease and climb onto the couch.

After several minutes of figuring out seating and finding the movie on the TV, everyone was finally settled.

Chan sat directly next to you, his arm on the back of the couch behind you. Both of your legs stretched out in front of you and a shared blanket draped over you both.

The opening title sequence of Star Wars starts playing and silence falls over your cousins for the first time since you got there.

Absent-mindedly, Chan’s fingers lightly brush over the skin of your exposed shoulder from behind you. They trace small shapes lightly.

You can’t even focus on the movie in front of you, Chan’s touch is too distracting.

Your sister and her fiance sat on the other side of you. She leaned over and whispered in your ear about twenty minutes into the movie.

“You can cuddle with your boyfriend, you know.”

A flush crawls up your neck. “Yeah, of course I know that. I just didn’t want to–”

Chan must’ve heard her, his hand closes over your shoulder and brings you closer to him. Your body turns into his, head tucked underneath his chin. His body warmth seeps into you as soon as you press into him.

The cherry on top is when he presses a kiss to the crown of your hair before resting his chin on top of your head. A shockwave of goosebumps ripples through your body.

Thinking you were chilly, Chan wraps his other arm around you and holds you even closer.

Well, if he’s playing the part.

You intertwine your legs with his underneath the blanket. His heart jumps in his chest and he has to fight the urge to press another kiss into your hair.

Chan knew he was pushing his luck with the first one, but it just felt so natural, he couldn’t help himself. Every single time the two of you touch, he instinctually takes it further into a romantic zone.

Previously, he would restrain himself from advancing these moments with you, but now? He doesn’t need to hold himself back. He can let his body react naturally.

The movie continues on, whenever a younger cousin would ask any questions about the movie, one of the older kids would answer.

Whenever Chan was the one to answer, his voice would rumble deep within his chest. The later it got, the raspier it sounded.

Throughout the movie, you both just got more and more tangled up underneath the blanket. You slid an arm around to rest your hand on Chan’s chest; fingers mindlessly playing with the fabric of his t-shirt.

Chan melted into your touch so easily.

In all the years you’ve been close friends, you’ve never been this level of a human pretzel while hanging out. He’s relishing every moment of it. Your shared body heat mingling is intoxicating to him.

He’s such a tactile person, physical touch is definitely his love language.

Chan can’t remember a time he was ever this cozy while watching a movie.

One of his hands moves from your shoulder and into your hair, running his fingers through the strands gently.

Every muscle in your body relaxes when he starts scratching at your scalp lightly. His soft exhales puff out on your head. Normally, this would bother you, but instead you find it soothing.

Both of you were fighting against your eyelids towards the end of the movie. The little kids fell asleep about ten minutes before the credits rolled.

Chan squeezes you tighter for a moment before whispering into your hair, “Time for bed.”

Your heart squeezes. “I gotta help get the little ones to bed.”

“I got it,” he answers. “Go wash up and get to bed. I’ll be downstairs in a few.”

Words can’t even describe how much your heart melts at his words.

Pull it together, Y/N. He’s your fake boyfriend for the week, remember? Not your real one.

It’s Chan – Bang Chan. The same guy who held your hair each time you drank yourself sick in college. The guy who camps out at your dining room table to work because he claims the Wi-Fi is better at your apartment.

Nevertheless, you peel yourself off of him, untangling your limbs and sitting up.

“You’re the best,” you say to him with a sleepy smile.

“I know.”

——————————————

Sunlight streams in through the bedroom window and the air conditioning unit continuously hums in the room.

A strong arm squeezing tighter around your body is what drags you out of dreamland.

A searingly hot body is pressed flush against the back of yours; legs tangled up, back to chest, soft exhales blowing into your hair lightly.

The haze of sleep still has your mind in its grip. All you know in that moment is that it’s so cozy, so warm, so nice that you can’t help but press your body backwards into that serene clasp.

The arm tightens again and brings you even closer.

A nose nuzzles further into the back of your head.

Chan, it’s Chan behind you.

You should care. You should be prying his arm off your waist and scooting over away from him.

But you don’t want to. It’s too nice.

It’s so peaceful, you’re about to drift back to sleep when the sound of two separate footsteps run towards your bedroom door.

They’re so loud, it rips you from sleep and you tense up, preparing for impact.

Your bedroom door is practically flung open.

Chan jolts against your body at the noise, his eyes snap open, arm tightening around you even more in a protective manner.

He has about two seconds to get his bearings before both cousins leap onto the bed, yelling at you both to wake up.

Chan releases you and turns over onto his back with a deep groan.

You groan and squint your eyes closed, bringing the covers up over your head.

“Noooo…” you moan out.

Chan laughs and grabs one little cousin closely, hugging her close to his chest. “Are you in here to sleep in bed with us? I sure hope so since it’s still soooo early.”

She giggles and tries to fight against his strong arms. “No!” she cackles. “You have to eat breakfast so we can go swimming down at the lake!”

Your other, more calm, cousin squirms underneath the covers and cuddles up to you. Slinging an arm around him, you keep your eyes closed and try to let your mind drift off again.

This is not the first time he’s done this, and it most likely will not be the last. It breaks your heart thinking about the year he feels like he’s too old to do this.

Chan is practically wrestling with your cousin next to you. She squeals when he turns on his side with her encased in his arms.

“Chaaan!” she giggles.

After a few moments, he lets her go and she clambers off the bed.

“Come on, Chan! Come sit next to me at breakfast!” She pulls on his hand closest to the edge of the bed.

He laughs and turns his head to look at you. You’re fast asleep again with your younger cousin asleep in your arms.

Chan’s heart slams against his ribcage and his stomach does a cartwheel.

Your sleeping face is so peaceful, and the way your little cousin has the same hair color as you had the cogs in his mind turning.

What if that was your kid in your arms, not just a cousin?

What if it was his?

His eyes flicker all over your face.

Something stirs in his mind, shooting down his spine. If it wasn’t for your other little cousin yanking on his arm over and over again, probably would’ve watched you for a few more moments, allowing his mind to roam into dangerous territory.

——————————————

“You’re staring.” Your aunt sits next to Chan with a plate full of food.

He’s camped out on the back porch of the cabin. It overlooks the wooden stairs that lead down to the dock hanging over the lake.

You’re lounging out on a floaty, pina colada in your hand– courtesy of him. He had walked it down to you only a few moments ago.

When it was announced that it was lunch time, you told Chan you wanted to work on your tan without worrying about your cousins splashing you every five seconds.

Maybe making you a frozen drink was just an excuse to see your face light up when he brought it to you. Maybe it was an excuse to watch the water droplets slide over your body up close.

Chan clears his throat and tears his eyes off your lazing form. Clearly, he’d been caught staring at your bikini clad form.

She nudges his arm playfully. “Don’t be embarrassed, it would be weirder if you didn’t stare, you know.”

Your family can be so crass sometimes.

Chan laughs and takes a bite of the sandwich on his plate. “It’s just nice to see her relaxing for once.”

“Has she been working herself into the ground again?”

“She never stops.”

Your aunt nods and looks back down at you before taking a bite of her own food. “Also helps that she looks good in that bathing suit.” She pauses. “Damn, your kids will be good looking.”

Chan chokes on his bite of food, his body jerks forward and he slams his fist into his chest to try and get it down.

Your aunt pats him on the back a few times, laughing at his expense.

“What?” She questions with an evil chuckle. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.”

“We’ve only been together for three months,” he wheezes out, still hitting his chest. The clump of food is sitting in his throat.

“And?”

“It’s too early to think about stuff like that,” he lies through his teeth.

You’re not even his. You’re not. This week will end and you’ll have to go back to just being best friends.

He’ll have to pretend that he wasn’t fake sleeping for the last hour before you woke up just to have his arms around you for a little while longer.

“Please.” Your aunt rolls her eyes and goes back to her food when another family member joins the table.

Chan takes a long swig of water before letting his eyes flicker to you once more. Your free hand hangs down in the water, head tilted back to dip into the cool lake, exposing your long, beautiful neck.

In his swim trunks, his cock twitches and he takes an even bigger drink of water.

——————————————

The torture continues endlessly for the two of you.

It’s the fourth night when it’s just you and Chan left awake.

Rain is pouring against the windows outside, the fireplace is lit, TV playing something in the background.

“I’m never going to get to bed.”

“I told you that you shouldn’t have had coffee with dessert,” you tease Chan, nudging his arm.

“Your uncle offered me a cup and I panicked.”

“You don’t even like coffee.”

“I know!” He whined.

You laugh at his expense. “Come on,” you tug on his arm. “You promised you would play pool with me.”

“When did I say that?”

“Literally this morning!”

“Fine, fine.”

He allows you to pull him off the couch with a dorky smile on his face. He loves giving you a hard time for no reason at all.

The pool table sat in the front room, just a few steps away from your bedroom.

Every time the two of you had gone to play pool, other family members would get in the way and pull one of you two in another direction.

Tonight was really the first night you both had to yourselves.

“You break,” you tell him once everything is set up. He nods and lines up his shot. After a second, he hits the cue ball perfectly into the cluster and all the balls scatter along the table, but nothing sinks into the pocket.

“Pity,” you tease him.

“Pity,” he repeats, mocking your tone.

Laughing, you bend over and line up your own shot. From across the table, Chan watches your form bend over, his lip pulling between his teeth mindlessly.

You hit the ball and sink one in.

With a cheer on the quieter side, you look at him with a smirk. He rolls his eyes playfully as you line up another shot.

The game continues just like this for a bit. Both of you going back and forth, missing most shots, but also nailing some good ones.

You’re tied at the end, racing to try and sink the 8-ball before the other person.

Leaning over the table right in front of him, you try and set up your aim.

“Wait,” Chan says quietly before you can pull the pool stick back to take your shot.

He leans down over you, pressing his back into yours, arms coming around you. He guides your aim to hit the cue ball differently.

The entire time, your heart rate is increasing exponentially.

“Just a bit more to the left,” he whispers in your ear. Chills rip down your body and you gulp. His voice sounds so low and sensual.

His hand over yours adjusts with tiny, miniscule movements. He keeps changing the aim a bit to the left, then a bit to the right, like he’s prolonging the contact.

Behind you, his hips are pressed into yours. It’s taking every ounce of willpower and control for him not to get hard in his sweats.

Especially, since in this position, he potentially could–

“Pull back,” he rasps. You follow his instructions immediately. He helps guide the pool stick back, hesitating for a moment. His chest inflates with a deep breath.

He breathes in the smell of your shampoo.

“Shoot,” he exhales.

With his guidance, you both shoot the ball, standing up quickly to watch it bounce off the 8-ball and then sinking into the corner pocket.

You cheer and jump up, turning around to face him directly.

“Take that!”

When you turned to face him, he hadn’t backed away yet. You’re practically nose to nose with Chan. A gasp catches in your throat from his proximity.

And yet, he still doesn’t back away. He continues to stare at you, his eyes dart from yours, down to your lips, then back up to your eyes again.

“Y/N,” he breathes out.

You swallow nervously and hold his eye contact.

Chan’s jaw clenches once, his hands ball into fists at his sides. Every single ounce of constraint is being tested within his body right now.

Cracks are going up the dam of his self control.

You’re not moving away; why aren’t you moving away from him?

He watches your eyes flicker down to his lips once and that’s all it takes for his mind to snap.

Chan lunges forward, grabbing your face with both of his hands and smashing your lips together. You let out a surprised noise against his mouth, your pool stick clattering to the ground.

Every bit of pent up aggression from the last few days is poured into the first kiss.

His hands aren’t on your face for long. He can’t keep still, sliding them all over your body; into your hair, down your sides, grabbing your hips, he’s everywhere.

“Fuck,” he growls against your lips. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N. Shit.”

Even though he’s apologizing, he can’t stop himself. He can’t stop slotting his lips over yours, devouring your very being.

Chan’s eyebrows are pinched together painfully. He’s pinning your body against the pool table with his hips.

You grab at his shirt and pull him closer.

“Shut up,” you say in between heated kisses.

“But I–”

“Shut up.” Your tongue runs over his bottom lip and his mind whites out. Every rebuttal fell from his mind, through the floor and into the Earth.

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his face even closer to yours as he licks into your mouth. With each turn of your heads, your noses brush against one another.

Chan runs his hands down your body and grabs underneath your thighs, picking you up and placing you on the pool table.

Your legs part and he stands in between them, never leaving your lips once.

As he runs his hands up your legs, he squeezes your bare thighs every few inches. It makes your core clench and body tingle.

Your fingers run up through his hair, grabbing tightly and pulling. Chan moans into your mouth and moves his hands to grab at your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

“Chan,” you whisper on his lips. He responds with a grunt. “Need you.”

God.

His hands fly to your legs again, grabbing you by the knees, he yanks your hips forward. Your clothed core comes into direct contact with his erection.

“I can give you exactly what you need, baby.” he nips your lip with his teeth. “I can take good care of you, yeah?”

Trailing his fingers up, he toys with the waistband of your shorts. At the same time, he moves his kisses down your neck. You tilt your head back to give him more access.

“Wanna take these off, babygirl?” he moans when you roll your hips into his.

“Yes, please.” you hiss in response.

Lifting your hips, he grabs the fabric and slides it down your legs, tossing them onto the floor with the forgotten pool stick.

Kisses trail lower and lower down your neck as he lowers to the ground.

Chan pulls away to kneel onto the ground.

His eyes are heated and strong when they meet yours. A dark scarlet color covers his cheeks and down his neck, disappearing into his sleeveless shirt.

Both of his hands grab at your thighs when he looks down at your glistening cunt. You’re absolutely soaking wet by now.

Since the moment he helped you line up your shot, you felt your panties dampening.

Wasting no time, Chan leans forward and runs his tongue from the bottom of your slit all the way up to the top, swirling around your clit and sucking gently.

Your hand flies up to cover your mouth, the other rests on the table behind you to keep your balance.

He repeats the action again, this time with more fervor and you squint your eyes shut, head tossing back from the pleasure that rips down your spine like a zipper.

Chan’s hands tighten around your thighs, eyes staring up at you and studying each reaction closely.

You taste so fucking good. He can’t get enough of you. His tongue greedily scoops up your juices, licking around your clit to feel you grind into his face.

His cock throbs with each moan, each whine that makes it through your fingers held tightly over your mouth.

After one long suck on your clit, Chan dips his tongue inside you, licking at your walls. Your eyes roll back into your head, the hand over your mouth flies down to grip at his hair.

He can’t help but smirk into your folds.

Every single moan is music to his ears.

Slowly, he inches his fingers over and when he moves his tongue up to your clit, he slides a finger into you, immediately curling it up to hit that spongy spot inside you.

“Jesus fuck–!” you cry out as quiet as you can manage.

It doesn’t slip your mind that you’re quite literally in a house full of relatives who could wake up and come into the front room at any moment and see the two of you.

But the fear just adds an extra layer of arousal to you.

“Does that feel good, babygirl?” Chan mutters into your cunt. “Does it feel good to have my fingers inside you?”

He thrusts his finger in and out slowly, those brown eyes studying you like a predator studies prey.

You bite your lip, eyes closed, and nod your head.

Chan adds a second finger and your head tosses back again. He can feel you clench down hard on his fingers when he licks your clit in long, even strokes.

A thin sheen of sweat covers your body.

“Chan,” you whine.

“Yeah, baby?” he teases, licking up slowly, the pace of his fingers is equally as slow. But, regardless of the pace, he’s still coaxing you towards the edge of an orgasm. It’s building slowly, you can feel it in the pit of your stomach.

“Shit,” you buck your hips into his face when he does one particularly hard thrust.

“Use your words, little girl.” He bites your thigh and then goes back to your folds. You clench around him hard at the name.

How are you supposed to use your words when your voice keeps getting caught in your throat? When every time you think you can open your mouth, a sultry moan tumbles out.

“N-Need you,” you manage to strain out.

A devilish smile pulls at his lips. He begins to thrust faster with his fingers, licking your clit quicker.

“Need me?” He asks in between licks. “You need me?”

Veins are popping in your neck from straining to keep your voice down.

“Yes, fuck!” You hiss out. “ I need you.”

In between his legs, Chan can feel his cock weeping with precum. His mind is so clouded with lust he can barely think straight.

Desperately, he wishes that you didn’t have to keep your voice down. He wants to make you scream.

Faster and faster he thrusts and licks at your soaking cunt, greedily tasting your juices.

Your thighs twitch on either side of his head the closer you get to your orgasm.

“Chan,” you grab his attention by yanking on his hair. He grunts and looks up at you through his lashes, lips still devouring you. “Inside, inside. I need your cock inside me.”

Your words go straight to his dick, he licks at your cunt a few more times before standing to his feet quickly to lock your lips together, fingers still buried inside you.

When you taste your own slick on his tongue, your eyes roll back in your head and you clench around him. Chan smirks into the kiss, curling his fingers up.

He’s relentless. Tongue sliding over yours, moans being eaten up by a greedy mouth while his fingers fuck into you.

With more strength than you thought you had, you pry Chan’s lips off yours by pulling his hair back.

“If you don’t fuck me in the next thirty seconds, I’ll pin you down and ride you until your cock can’t cum anymore.”

An exhale is punched from his chest. His mind whites out. Chan’s mouth drops open and his fingers stutter within you.

Did you really just say that? That sounds like a fucking dream.

“Babygirl,” he growls darkly. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

Your eyes darken and you pull his hair again. “Fuck me until I can’t walk, Chris.”

Chan rips his fingers out of your cunt, grabs both of your hips and roughly pulls you off the pool table.

He fists a hand in the back of your hair and spins you around, shoving your head down, bending you over completely.

You’re lucky you had half a mind to put your arms out to rest your weight on your elbows.

Using his one foot, he knocks the inside of yours outwards to spread your legs even more.

“Fucking look at that,” he marvels, running his free hand up your ass and kneading a handful. After a second he reels back and brings his hand down with a painful smack.

Your one hand flies to your mouth to cover the squeak that you make.

“Bent over, soaking wet cunt just fucking waiting to take my cock.” His hand tightens in your hair. The other hand rips his sweatpants down to take his cock out. “What a good girl you are.”

Chan can’t remember a time he’s ever been this hard.

Casting a look over your shoulder, you look back at Chan. His eyes are blown out, lip pulled in a sneer as he fists his cock, staring directly at your fluttering walls clench around nothing.

“You wanna fill me up, Channie?”

His eyes snap up to yours with a predator-like stare. His hand stops pumping his own cock, hell, he even stops breathing.

Chan’s jaw clenches, every ounce of self control is being drained. How much more of this can he fucking take before he passes out?

“What?” His voice is so strained and hoarse.

Your eyes narrow and you wiggle your hips tauntingly. “Come on, Chan.”

Chan’s eyes darken. He fists your hair and shoves your face down on the table and slams his cock inside you.

Your mouth stretches open in a silent scream, but you don’t let the noise make it out of your body.

Chan’s eyes roll to the back. You feel so fucking good.

“Holy shit.” He moans out. “Jesus fuck you’re so fighting tight.”

He wastes no time, pulling his cock out to slam back inside you. Your back arches and hips press into his to meet his thrust.

Each sharp wave of pleasure shoots down your legs and into your toes.

Small gasps and whines make their way through your lips.

Chan leans down, yanking your hair back to pick your head up slightly. His face comes down next to yours.

“You like this, yeah?” He whispers harshly. Thrust after thrust slams against your cervix. “You like when it’s rough?”

Closing your eyes tightly, you keep your mouth shut, trying to nod with his hand so tightly wound in the crown of your hair.

“Better be quiet, then. Don’t want someone coming out and seeing you look like a cum hungry, whore.”

Over and over again he fucks into you.

After one harsh thrust, your mouth drops open and before you can moan loudly, Chan’s free hand covers your mouth tightly.

“Feels that good to have my cock inside you, huh? Can’t control that pretty mouth, you’re so fucked out.”

You whine and nod again. Nails digging into the felt of the pool table underneath you.

Hot, white pleasure is coursing through your veins. You’ve never been fucked like this in your life.

Chan leans down more and bites at the side of your neck, lapping at the skin and leaving small marks that will fade by the morning.

“You’re fucking lucky you have to be in a bathing suit in front of your family tomorrow. Otherwise I would leave my fucking mark all over you.” He bites, but doesn’t suck. “Make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

Another whine is stopped by his hand.

“I have a better idea, babygirl.” He bites your earlobe, pace slowing down within you. Instead, he thrusts deeper, you can practically feel him within your gut. “I’m going to do exactly what you said, yeah? Fill you up? Make that pussy sloppy with my fucking load.”

Your hips jerk back into his to try and encourage him to pick up the pace. Chan only tightens his hold in your hair.

“You’re going to take whatever I give you, every last fucking drop. Even after I pull out, I’ll stuff you with my fucking fingers so nothing gets wasted.”

Arching your back, you press into him more.

“You want that, huh?” He growls, biting your ear. His pace picks up gradually, each thrust rougher and faster than the last. “You want my seed inside you?”

You nod pathetically.

“You want me to fuck a baby into you?”

His thrusts start growing erratic.

You never expected him to be this talkative during sex. But he hasn’t shut up once.

Another nod accompanied with a whine comes from you. You’re absolutely drowning in pleasure.

“Gunna carry my kids, got the fucking perfect hips for it, yeah? You’ll look so fucking hot all pregnant with our kids. Fuck.”

He’s so lost and fucked out, he can’t stop his mouth from running, spewing all his fantasies.

Moving his hand from your mouth, he trails it down to grab at your throat.

“Chan!” You moan out, licking your dry lips.

“Can feel you clenching, babygirl. You gonna cum for me? Gunna cream on my cock? Suck up my cum and hold onto it with this tight fucking pussy?”

“Yes yes yes yes.” You pant over and over again. “Kiss me, kiss me, please”

When you turn your head, your lips smash together.

The coil in your gut is seconds from snapping.

You bite Chan’s lip and pull back.

“Fuck me full, daddy.”

Every muscle in his body tensed and his thrusts turn into something animalistic. The hand in your hair is so tight your scalp is screaming.

“Say it again.”

“Fu-huck,” is all you’re able to manage.

“Say it again.” He barks in your ear. You’re not going to be able sit down tomorrow.

“Daddy.”

A bite to your neck.

“Again.”

“Daddy! Fuck me, daddy!”

“Holy shit.” He whines in your ear. Hearing you say that makes him feel fucking insane. His body is acting on its own.

With a few more thrusts both of you are thrown over the edge at the same time. Your cunt clenching around him so tight, Chan can barely breathe.

His cock spurts and sprays within you, painting your walls white.

Every single sensation feels so good you think you leave for body for a few minutes. Your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks.

His entire body is wrapped around yours. Grunts in your ear keep you grounded.

You feel so full.

Chan came inside you so much that it’s leaking out and dripping down the inside of your legs.

He pants heavily into your ear.

Releasing your neck, he lovingly runs his hand down your side, caressing your hip, massaging circles into the bone.

His hand slides around and cups your lower stomach tenderly.

Slowly, he unwinds his hand from your hair, kissing at the roots he’s been relentlessly pulling on. He scratches and rubs at your scalp to ease the ache.

But still, he hasn’t pulled out.

Chan kisses the top of your head and down to your face, kissing the cheek he’s able to reach.

You can’t catch your breath.

“Y/N,” he whispers into your hair.

You hum back to him, eyes still closed in bliss.

“I love you.”

Your heart jumps in your chest, Chan feels you clench around him.

“I love you too.” It falls from your lips so easily, like it’s been sitting there for so long, just waiting to be heard.

Both of your heads turn to kiss one another.

It’s so ungodly sweet for the events that just took place minutes ago.

His lips are so soft and plush, especially from being swollen from your steamy kisses.

Inside you, you can feel his cock twitch. Is he…?

Breathlessly, you pull away from his sweet kiss.

“Are you still hard?” you pant.

Sheepishly, he smiles and ruts into you. A moan catches in your throat.

“Babygirl, I’ve been waiting for so long to fuck you. It’s going to take a few times before I’m ready to call it a night.”

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lijojo · 2 years ago

Text

genshin men as one-night stands

premise: after a blurred night of passion, you try to leave your one-night stand's house. how do they convince you to stay?

tw: suggestive, minors dni

Spoils You Rotten

wakes you up to the smell of pancakes and coffee. usually, when you have one-night stands, you usually are quick to change and book it. but the smell of pancakes was just so heavenly, you let curiosity get the best of you.

when you get to the kitchen, you're welcomed to the sight of him in a frilly apron, flipping pancake batter on the pan. he hums to himself until he turns around to see you, gaping at him as if you'd just seen a ghost.

"good morning, love. do you want me to run the bath now? i know you're probably a little sore from yesterday. i have some scented candles in the cabinet, although i'm not sure which one you'd prefer so i wanted to wait for you to get up so you could choose."

"what—" you gulp, trying to process the sight before you.

he tilts his head, puzzled. "is something the matter, love?"

"i'm—i'm just surprised, is all," you try, "i didn't peg you as the type to have...um...one-night stands."

he chuckles, sliding the pancakes onto a plate. "i don't."

he turns to you, his eyes locked onto you. "you're not a one-night stand. i fully intend to get to know you better. now, i'd pick up that jaw off from the floor, dear. you're going to let the flies in."

snapping out of your bewilderment, you close your mouth.

"good. now, would you like to take a bath? the muffins should be done in ten. i can bring your breakfast over to you in a bath tray when it's ready. and maybe after..." he gives you an unexpected smile. "i can massage all your sore parts?"

zhongli, alhaitham, diluc, tighnari, kaeya, albedo

Will not physically let you leave the bed

you literally can't move. not even when you try. when you wake up, you find yourself in a bear trap. you're legs are tangled with someone else's their arms locked around your waist in a vice grip. instead of chirping birds, you hear the thudding heartbeat of their chest resting below your ear.

when you try to maneuver out of his hold, his arms only tighten around you more. he groans lowly in your ear, shifting a bit.

"what's the hold up?" he murmurs into the crown of your head. "stay."

so much for sneaking out unnoticed.

you stiffen at his morning voice. it's unexpectedly raspier than you'd expected. he takes the opportunity to kiss your forehead tenderly, a lot tenderly than a usual one-night stand would.

"i have some errands to run." it isn't entirely untrue. surely, there must be something you need to do today.

he stares at you for a long second before huffing. "five minutes won't hurt, those errands can wait."

"wait but—"

before you can brace for it, he's already turning on his side and taking you along with him. he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses.

"you weren't thinking of leaving right after a night of intimacy, right?" he mused. "i thought you enjoyed last night. i certainly did."

you flushed at the memories. as much as you wanted to leave as you'd planned, it was awfully comfortable in his embrace. it was warm, soft, and welcoming.

"stay for a little longer, okay?" he cooed into your ear, pulling the covers over you. "at least, long enough for round two."

scaramouche, cyno, thoma, kaveh, itto,

Finds excuses to make you stay

the moment you make any sign of leaving, he's already calling for you to help him with something.

you try getting out of his grasp first thing in the morning? he's asking for a kiss on the cheek to wake him up, he can't get up without it. picking up your clothes off the floor? he's already offering you an extra change of clothes, not to mention helping you put it on. he even smiles at your flustered state. getting ready to leave? he's tugging your sleeve, offering his many amenities at home that are seemingly much better quality than yours: his cleanser, his cute headbands, his moisturizers.

and you can't say no. not when he's giving you those eyes. so you end up staying.

in a blink of an eye, you find yourself suddenly helping him smooth out the outfit he asked you to choose for him, hands running down his torso. leaning towards you, you can feel his eyes digging into your skin.

"thank you, sweet thing," he says, pressing a kiss on your nose.

"it's no problem," you mumble. "but i really—"

"how about staying for a cup of water?" he offered. "you know how important it is that you drink water first thing in the morning. it's supposed to be good for your skin. digestion too."

"well, alright—"

"and while we're at it, what about a movie? i have some classics i've been dying to watch and it's always better to watch with somone else."

you end up staying wayyy longer than you expected doing the small things: sorting through books, doing face masks, watching halfway through a movie, eating breakfast together, helping him look for butterflies on his front yard, getting the mail together. all while the two of you exchange jokes.

by the time it's well into the afternoon, you finally snap out of your daze, realizing the time.

"you just noticed?" he grins. "how cute. well, thank you for putting up with my antics, sweet thing."

he kisses you softly on the mouth.

"think of this morning as an advertisement for the other mornings to come, whenever you want to stay the night again. you won't regret it."

kaveh, itto, childe, ayato, kazuha, venti,

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ghost-proofbaby · 16 days ago

Note

I love the idea of Eddie having an especially grueling day at work his friend (they have mutual feelings but nothing has been said) offers to give him a massage. Eddie is genuinely grateful but also vv flustered by the end!!

listen. LISTEN. i know this got out of hand. i know i said these were going to stay short n sweet. i know what i said and promised. but. listen. you can't hand me a prompt that is just so delicious, with so much potential to sprinkle in a light dusting of angst, and to give me the chance to garnish with a beautiful open ending full of promise, and not expect a monster of a product to come from it. you just can't. i'm sorry. i hope you enjoy this, regardless. even if it's not quite bite-sized.

warnings: seemingly unrequited love that turns into clearly idiots in love. eddie gets shirtless. that's all.

wc: 4.4k+ yikes

It had started off as an innocent, well-intentioned offer. You swear it did.

When Eddie had called you right after pulling a double at the garage, begging to come over and simply relax at your apartment, you’d set up to allow him to do just that. You’d cleaned up a little bit, lit a candle that normally gave you a headache if it burned too long but that Eddie loved, prepped a selection of movies for him to choose from, pulled out the menu for your favorite take-out – you’d gone the whole nine yards for your best friend.

Someone might even point out it wasn’t just best friend behavior at this point. Steve and Robin alike had certainly called out your behavior at times, coining it as “girlfriend behavior on a best friend salary”.

You didn’t care. You were well aware of what you were doing, and you didn’t care.

You’d spend the rest of your life on the best friend salary, as the two dinguses had so lovingly called it, for the look of sheer peace on Eddie’s face right now.

He’s leaning back on the opposite end of your couch from you, knees spread and chin facing the ceiling as he sighs in bliss. Take-out containers are scattered about the coffee table, and his movie of choice of Return of the Jedi is about halfway over on your TV.

You both had already chosen a second movie – The Lost Boys. The plans for the night were set in stone.

You tuck both knees up beneath your chin, side-glancing your best friend for a second and ignoring the flutter of your chest as you watch him sink deeper into the cushions, “We can talk about it, y’know.”

“Hm?”

“Your day,” you adjust a bit, turning your body to face him fully, “If you wanna talk about it, I’m all ears. We’ve already seen enough Jabba the Hutt to last a lifetime.”

That earns a smile from him, slowly crackling over his cheeks as he rolls his head towards you, “I dunno. Is there such thing as enough Jabba the Hutt?”

You toss a piece of your sour watermelon candy at him, and despite it landing on his shirt, he still grabs it to pop it into his mouth.

You try not to think too hard about how that shirt had been sitting in your drawers, clean and neatly folded, occupying space as if that might be normal. As if everyone has some of their best friend’s clothes at their apartment that they can change into after a long day at work.

As if everyone has occasionally used said shirt as pajamas on nights they particularly miss the scent of their best friend’s cologne.

“Shut up,” you finally snicker, dropping your knees from your chin, sitting criss-cross now, “We don’t have to talk about your day if you don’t feel like it. By all means, if you wanna keep drooling over an alien slug, be my guest-”

At your teasing, Eddie moves quickly to grab one of your ankles, pulling your feet towards his lap before you can register what he’s doing. You gasp a little, and it’s definitely not because of the feeling of his warm palms wrapped around your bare skin. Totally not at the rush of warmth that travels up your body, head to toe, when you feel his rings pressing into you so eagerly.

Absolutely not. You gasp, because anybody would gasp in this scenario. Because you’re just best friends. And best friends do stuff like that.

“I am not drooling over a slug,” he chastises, grinning recklessly as he wiggles his fingers menacingly, mere inches from the bottom of your foot, “Take it back, or pay the price, baby.”

Has he ever called you baby before?

Certainly not, if your roaring heart has anything to say about it.

“Don’t you dare,” you squeal – genuinely squeal – as you try and tug your legs out of his grasp. It’s a useless effort; he’s too strong, even after his long day, and your body isn’t even sure if it approves of taking his hands off of you. “Edward Munson, I swear to God-”

It’s a mess of flailing limbs, painful laughter, and high-pitched screams from there. Squeaks from your own mouth, and a few from Eddie, mocking you all in good fun as he continues to persist for you to take it back. For just a moment, it feels like this is the normal – you’re living in a space where Eddie comes home from every day, grueling or effortless, to you. Where the two of you always end up on the couch together, bodies touching in any way they can. Where there’s always background noise on the TV as his focus is solely on you, smiling foolishly at his antics that were really just a simple effort to hear your laughter. Where your laughter is the only thing he really wants to hear at the end of the night, and it’s the greatest thing he’s ever heard.

A world where he tells you as much.

A world where after this, he’s reaching the knob of your shared bedroom door rather than the front door of your lonesome apartment.

A world where you aren’t existing on a best friend salary.

“Had enough yet, sweetheart?” he quips, just as breathless as you are from the struggle. This time, the nickname he uses is normal. It took you off guard during the first few months of friendship, but now? Your weary heart could handle it, cherish it even, and not let your stupid little crush get in the way of appreciating it. “All you have to say are the magic words.”

“Are the magic words, you’re a dickhead?”

“Hm,” he pretends to ponder thoughtfully for just a second before shaking his hand, “‘Fraid not. Try again?”

Instead of verbally replying, you give him a gentle kick in the stomach. Not the magic words he had in mind, but they sure do the trick.

He lets out a soft oomph, one arm cradling his midsection as though you actually hurt him. You take it as your cue to remove your legs – his dramatics quickly come to a halt to prevent just that.

It’s probably meant to be subtle, the way both his arms fall down over your calves and keep your feet in his lap, but it has the capability to implode your entire world.

“I can’t believe you’re being mean to me after the day I’ve had,” he whines, and all you can focus on is the way his thumb is rhythmically stroking the ball of your ankle now, “Me, your best friend, has had the most awful day and you-”

“Now you wanna talk about it?” you laugh a little, rolling your eyes at him.

“Absolutely.”

“After you’ve just tortured me?”

“Well, yeah. When else would I talk about it?”

“I’m rescinding my offer to listen,” you continue to joke, making one more good faith offer to slip your legs from his lap. And, once more, he won’t allow it.

He whines out a long, drawn out no, starting to lay his entire body across your legs this time. More direct, more to the point. Subtleties have been forgotten, you suppose.

You don’t know if it’s more for you, or for him. You just know you like it. You like existing within a sneak preview of a girlfriend salary.

“You never answered me, drama queen,” you murmur as the joking lean across your legs becomes a bit more heavy, and Eddie is more genuinely collapsing his figure into your lap. He doesn’t even have to ask, or gesture – your fingers find home within his hair, and you can feel his hum of content against your thigh as you scratch along his scalp, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

All joking pretenses slip away from him as he mumbles out a muffled, “Not really.”

And you can work with that. You swear, you can.

If you’d been so ready to lend a listening ear, then you can offer him this peace and quiet. A simple head massage as he leans into you, cheeks pressed to the top of your thigh as you think he returns to watching Return of the Jedi.

His eyes might be closed, if his heavy breaths are anything to go off of. You’re just not sure.

You just keep up your massage, sluggish strokes, clement scratches, deep breaths to match his own-

And then, an idea hits you.

“Eds,” you whisper, your hand in his hair traveling to his shoulders, shaking him a bit, “Eddie.”

Only a grunt in response.

“Eddie, seriously, get up,” you stress, overeager, “I have an idea.”

“The apartment better be on fire,” he grumbles as he finally raises his head, face imprinted with the lines of your shorts in rolling hills of soft indents.

Definitely was sleeping. Definitely wasn’t watching Star Wars.

But even with his shoulders wrapped with dreary slumber, you’re still excited about your idea, motioning him to sit up fully. You let him take his time, of course, only after he swats your hands away sluggishly a few times.

Once his back is straight, you lift one finger in the air, and draw a circle – motioning for him to turn his back to you without saying a word.

His eyes narrow to slits at you, “Are you about to pull a prank on me? Because-”

“I’m not,” you assure him, reaching for his shoulders, nearly turning him yourself, “Scout’s honor.”

He listens to you. Despite it all, despite his seeming mistrust, he turns his back to you. More specifically, he turns his shoulders to you.

He’s still mumbling on about how you better not make his day worse, getting a little bit snappier when you gather his hair up to lay out of your way and claiming his scalp was extra sensitive today.

You pay his attitude no mind. He’s just grumpy. It doesn’t particularly phase you after years of close friendship.

“Listen, I know you like braiding my hair, but-” he continues with his protests as you grin behind him, shaking your head as you settle yourself closer to him. Knees bumping his hips, back straight for the time being. “I’d rather just nap right now. And I was really comfy, and really getting my rocks off to that damn alien slug-”

All his words cut off when you finally put your plan into action. Your palms fall atop his shoulders, fingers curling around the tense skin, and he’s melting before you’ve even begun.

“I- Oh,” he jumps a little at the first squeeze, but quickly returns to being pliant in your hold, “Oh… That’s…. That’s nice.”

You continue your massage, gently squeezing, thumbs and fingers digging into any knots you find to work them away as you jeer, “Is it now?”

He nods, the smallest of movements as to not interrupt your work, “It is. ‘S real nice.”

His head rolls with each pinch of your fingers, posture loosening as he leans back into your touch further.

You take it a step further, biting back nerves when you slip your hands beneath the collar of his old t-shirt. You feel the shiver begin before it races down his spine at the press of your skin directly on his now.

Your warm hands work dutifully, determined to bring as much relaxation to your best friend as possible. Definitely not enjoying yourself a bit too much at his smooth skin under your palms. Definitely not enjoying yourself just as much as he is. Certainly not.

The shirt constricts you, though. Prevents your hands from traveling fully over sore spots you can feel the edges of. Catching your wrists, limiting the full potential of your movements.

You’re glad he can’t see you as you suddenly request, “Take your shirt off.”

“Hm?” he can’t form a proper word at first, not startled but simply sunken too deep in his relaxation, “What was that?”

“I need your shirt off, Munson.”

You try to sound brave, nonchalant, as you repeat yourself. You don’t want him to hear the fluttering of your heart – you don’t want him to hear the shake of your hands as you remove them from him.

You only want him to hear the totally reasonable request from a friend, who is simply trying to offer the best massage possible to their best friend who’s had a bad day.

“Oh?” he looks over his shoulder, and you can see the edges of his raised brows through messy bangs, “Damn, sweetheart. If you wanted me naked, you just had to ask.”

Can ribs break from a heart beating too fast? Is that even possible?

“I did ask,” your voice is flat as a trade off to avoid any quivering to filtrate it, lips pressing tightly together as you swallow your heart, “So get to it.”

He leans forward, putting a bit of distance between you two before he reaches back to grab the center of his shirt. The fabric comes off with a flourish, and all you’re left face to face with is the bare expanse of his back.

You silently beg him not to look back over his shoulder, if only for just a second.

You’ve seen Eddie shirtless plenty of times. At pool parties with the entire group, on rare lake days that always ended sun drunk and giddy, that one time he’d answered his door right after a quick shower and you’d seen a lot more than you’d bargained for. He was your friend. After a while, it would have been weirder to not have seen Eddie shirtless at least once.

Something about this time feels different.

He has freckles – not nearly as much as Steve or Robin, but they still exist. Small markings across skin glowing warmly in the dim light of your living room lamp, spattered without rhyme or reason. One on the back of his left shoulder, another slightly off-centered at the base of his neck. He has a light scar towards the bottom of his right shoulder blade – a memory from his childhood he told you once when you’d first seen it at the lake. Everyone else was out splashing about the ten-degrees-too-cool water, and he’d joined your side on the shore. Laid on his stomach as you laid on your back, offering you conversation in the form of stories about every blemish across his skin. The intentional tattoos, the unintentional scars. Everything.

Even that day doesn’t quite compare to the intimacy of him being here now, being shirtless in your apartment, just the two of you.

Maybe there was something extra in your coffee this morning, making you feel so delusional.

“I don’t have any lotion or oils,” you finally clear your throat, trying to joke about as the two of you had been before, “But that doesn’t matter. You ready for the best damn massage of your life, Munson?”

“Yes, please,” he groans, and something deep in your stomach clenches at the sound, “Want me to lay down or something?”

Your brain short-circuits for a second, because you know where that leads.

If he lays down, there’s only one way to continue to comfortably give him the massage. If he lays down, you’re about to bite off more than you could chew on a best friend salary.

“Sure,” you choke out, damning yourself in the process.

It’s all robotic mechanics as you two shift to assume the position; you stand up, and he sprawls out. And you swear, in the process, you catch a smothering of pink slow creeping across his chest and neck.

“Can I…” you start to question, finally growing a bit shy as you stare down at the dip of his lower back. Two dimples on either side of his spine, looking so inviting and yet daunting.

He finishes the sentence for you, saving you the embarrassment, “Sit on me? Yeah, go for it, babe.”

There it is again. An unfamiliar nickname that falls so effortlessly off the lips for him. Another pet name to send you into a tailspin as your breath catches and your heart races, as though needing to catch up after the fleeting endearment.

“Thanks,” you whisper out.

You’re starting to regret all your choices, but it’s too late to back down now. You just want to help him relax – that’s all this is.

Stop making this more than it is.

You’re exceptionally careful as you crawl over Eddie, placing a knee on either side of him, hovering for just a second as you take deep breaths to hype yourself up to do the inevitable.

He twists a bit, startling you enough for you to balance yourself with a palm on each shoulder blade, “C’mon now, you’re not going to crush me. You should know this by now,” his eyes glitter, and you know he’s referring to that time you two made a bet he couldn’t carry you bridal style while drunk. He could, “Sit your pretty ass down and get to work, Masseuse.”

You weren’t imagining the pink across his chest and neck. It’s climbed up now, tendrils tickling his cheeks. The bridge of his nose nearly looks sunburnt from this angle.

It’s a good look on him.

“Masseuse?” you snort as you shove him to be fully laying down once more, needing to get his eyes off of you for just a second, “That’s an awfully big word. You been reading without me or something? Becoming a secret genius?”

Fall back into the normal flow of things. Try not to think about the heat of him between your legs as you sit half your weight down.

“That is not a big word,” he chides.

“Spell it, then.”

“I-” he cuts off as your hands smooth back over his skin, no more restrictions.

He never finishes his sentence, never complies with your request. All that falls from his lips are soft sighs as you begin the massage again.

There’s an occasional twitch below his muscles as you knead away, slowly but surely becoming more comfortable with it all. Becoming more mesmerized as you can now see his skin moving with you, occasionally letting up when you skirt past freckles and scars alike, fingertips merely tracing them as he shivers under your delicate touch.

You do exactly as you set out to do – you relax him. And then some.

You’ve never really gotten into the art of massages, something about it always feeling a bit too intimate. You’d never consider yourself a professional at it by any means – if anything, you’ve been on the receiving end rather than the giving end more often than not. And even those occurrences were rare.

But when it came to Eddie, it seemingly came naturally.

Not all of your movements are conventional. You pass back and forth between the usual squeezes of skin you’ve witnessed on TV and from others, and gentle tracing of your fingertips. Drawing shapes, painting pictures that vanish without ever having existed in the first place. Words, sentences, secret messages for just you two.

When you trace out the endearment of idiot, Eddie seems to catch on, lazy grin peeking up past his curtain of hair covering the cheek almost facing you.

In another place, where you make that coveted girlfriend salary, you’d trace out three little words on the tip of your tongue.

You almost do it, too. It’s when you trace out idiot, in fact. You start, entirely subconsciously, with the i. A long pause, a space between words.

And then you trace an l. One long line down the center of his spine.

Your finger is already rotating for the o, ready to trace it in the center as the other two letters had been, a signalling it wasn’t a part of that last simple line.

And then you divert. And you rush to finish out with the i, the o, the t. He laughs a little, the rush of air felt below you as he lets it out soundlessly, and you catch sight of his smile.

A seeming endearment to Eddie, a hidden scolding for yourself.

Maybe one day you can find the nerve to properly trace it out – or better yet, say it. Speak your truth outloud and handle whatever consequences come from it. Because you do – you really, really do mean it – and those feelings for Eddie can’t seem to change. Something carved into your very soul, unchanging as the years pass. If anything, the carving only digs deeper into you with each month you spend with him.

One day. But not today, not when Eddie’s had a bad day. It should be a good day when you say it, lessening the blow of rejection, hopefully.

You almost lose your balance a few times. Each time having to adjust your position of sitting on him, shifting his hips right along with yours. And each time, you notice the catch in his sighs. The way they almost transform into moans, tense noises that seemingly tear from his throat, only dampened by poor attempts to conceal them. Even the back of his neck has grown flushed now, the tips of his ears vibrant when you see them poke through his hair.

Sometimes, you lose your balance from his shifting, even.

The air is sticky with tension as you finally finish up. It could have been ten minutes, it could have been an hour – you weren’t keeping score, more focused on continuing on until Eddie’s entire body has gone boneless beneath you.

Pretty, and pink, and pliant. Entirely slackened beneath your touches.

It takes more to encourage yourself to climb off of him than it did to climb on originally. Your body protests entirely, knees not caring for the ache forming, inner thighs happy to be bracketing his hips. But you do it. Because you’re just a friend, a best friend, helping your friend relax.

You stand, towering over him, looking down to find him hiding his face just a bit. “Well?”

“Well, what?” his voice is entirely muffled by his mouthful of couch cushion, and you furrow your brows.

“How was it?”

He lifts his face strategically. He probably hopes you don’t notice, but you do, “Oh! Oh, it was, uh- It was fucking great, sweetheart. I… I swear, your hands are fucking magic.”

Why is he tripping over his words like that?

He can’t even look you in the eyes, line of sight darting anywhere but you.

Why is he flushed, head to toe?

“Yeah?” you cross your arms, and subtly lean to block the TV now displaying credits that Eddie found terribly interesting, “Would you consider it the best massage you’ve ever had?”

He nods, and you catch the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows before squeaking out, “Oh, yeah! The absolute best I’ve ever had,” his eyes widen at his words, as if he’s made a terrible choice that you’re unaware of, “I mean, you know, I just- you should really consider becoming an actual masseuse.”

That’s when it hits you; Eddie is absolutely refusing to sit up. To remove his hips from your couch.

He’s blushing, and he’s stuttering, and he’s definitely hiding something.

There’s a twist in your gut that you can’t reveal. A satisfaction you know better than to celebrate right now.

Instead, you decide to play with him just a little bit more.

“Good,” you nod, stepping towards the end of the couch you’d originally occupied. Where Eddie’s knees are stiff against. “Maybe I will consider a career change. But for now – move, Munson. I’m just exhausted.”

“What?” he looks at you, frightened, only moving his neck to keep his hips flush and hidden away.

“Get your legs out of my seat,” you laugh a little, leveling him with a daring stare.

You know what he’s hiding. You’re a bit proud of it, too.

“Oh, yeah,” he says slowly, and you can see him going over his options in his head. A million excuses he’s probably conjuring, a hundred different escape plans he’s grasping at. “Yeah, of course.”

And, just as you’d suspected, he doesn’t go with a single one to save his dignity.

He moves quickly. Tucking his legs up and twisting himself into an upright position in the blink of an eye, and immediately grabbing one of your throw pillows that two of you had tossed off into the floor amidst the original movie night plans.

He’s fast, you’ll give him that. But not fast enough for you to not catch sight of the tent in his pants.

You don’t let your eyes linger too long. Swallow down any drooling threatening to begin. Tamper down any desire flaring in your chest and between your hips.

Best friend salary, you remind yourself even as you grin a tad bit too salaciously for your current cover. Best friend salary, not girlfriend salary.

You plop down on the seat still warm from Eddie’s legs, sinking back in self-satisfaction. Maybe you had been wrong. Maybe it doesn’t have to be another time, or place, or Universe to get what you want. Maybe all your delusion, that wild imagination of yours, wasn’t so misplaced after all.

Best friend salary, your mind whispers. For now.

Eddie makes himself comfortable right along with you, still seeming in a much better condition than when he’d first arrived, even if his cheeks had bloomed into a rose garden. He presses that throw pillow of yours protectively over his crotch, and once more focuses on the screen in front of you two.

“Say, Eddie,” you drawl, almost radiant with your grin. A fire now lit inside both of you. “Think you could be a doll and pop in the next movie for me?”

It’s a little evil, you’ll admit. But he kind of deserves it for underpaying you over the years, when it’s so clear you’re due for a promotion. Sometime soon, you hope.

Both your heads turn to each other at the same time, wildly different speeds. Eddie’s neck snaps in disbelief, while you take your time to make eye contact.

All it takes is one knowing look exchanged, and the illusion fumbles on its stilts.

“I…” his embarrassment, all that flush, slowly morphs as he catches the truth behind your intentions. The hand pressing down on the throw pillow alleviates just a bit, stiff shoulders relaxing as they should have been after your massage as he reflects back just as evil of a glint in his eyes as you had, “Sure thing, baby.”

It’s probably going to be a long night. Surely, the promotion of best friend to girlfriend is going to involve some paperwork. Or an interview, to prove your capability and experience first hand, of course.

But, well, he never did put his shirt back on, did he?

#ghost's stories #v-day party #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #you know what? i'm not sorry #**he never put his shirt back on DID HE?**#i did what i did. i stand by it.#the smut in a part 2 that will never exist would go so hard #imagine these idiots getting their hands on some oil goddamn

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trashytracktales · 3 months ago

Note

I need lando ANGST. Make me cry! But also smut! Goshhhh I need it. Something like they’ve been distancing each other and things have been so tense and one day lando catches reader getting herself off so he says ‘if you wanted me to fuck you all you had to do was ask.’ And then he ruins here. But lots of angst in the beginning. Ty I love you xx

Endings, beginnings | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Well. I was sobbing while writing this. Hope you're proud of yourself 💔

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𐙚 summary ──── They’re at a breaking point in their relationship, their stubbornness and jealousy pushing them so close to the edge. After agreeing to distance each other during an exhausting triple header, Lando returns home unexpectedly to find her in his apartment, trying to cope with his absence.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, angst, smut, toxic dynamics, emotional distress, descriptive language, masturbation, oral & fingering ─ (f)receiving, unprotected sex, swearing, potential relationship breakdown.

𐙚 word count ──── 5.1k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 12, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── This is my 10th work ayeee! Thank you guys so much for investing your time into reading my silly little stories, and for trusting me enough to bring your requests to life. I appreciate you a lot 🤍🎀

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IT'S LATE. THE kind of hour that turns Monaco into a still painting, muted and hollow, yet as breathtaking as ever.

Lando isn’t supposed to be home yet. The plan was to stay in Brazil for a couple more days after the race, but plans change when you're a professional overthinker. Somewhere between the chaos of three back-to-back races, he couldn’t stand the thought of another night in a hotel.

He needed to be in his own space so he could think.

The elevator ride to his floor seems like going on forever, his suitcase dragging heavily behind him, its wheels scratching aggressively against the polished floors the second he gets out of it. He’s expecting silence; an empty apartment, untouched, heavy with the ghosts of their last argument. But when he opens the door, the faint smell of her perfume hits him hard across the face, and his heart tightens.

His living room is dimly lit, the soft glow of a scented candle casting long shadows on the walls. A throw blanket is draped over the couch, and a half-empty mug of tea sits forgotten on the coffee table.

And then he sees her.

She’s curled up on the couch, wearing one of his oversized hoodies. Its sleeves cover her hands as she hugs her knees to her chest, her face partially hidden in the dim light of the room. Her hair is a little messy, and there’s a redness to her eyes that tells him she hasn’t been sleeping well — he knows he shouldn't, but he's glad he isn't the only one losing sleep over this. On a deeper level, it means they both care enough to let it consume them.

So, it has to count for something, right?

For a moment, he just stands there, staring. Then, the words spill out before he can stop them, or think of something else to ask, “Why are you here?”

Her head snaps toward him, her wide eyes betraying a mix of surprise and guilt. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights, frozen in place.

She straightens slightly, pulling the hoodie tighter around herself. “Lan…” she blinks in amazement, her voice barely audible.

“I just asked you a question,” he says, sharper than he initially intended.

He's not usually like this. But considering how they left things before he had to go, Lando is entitled to ask questions. It was her suggestion to separate, and finding her here only messes with his head more.

“I… know. I'm sorry,” she looks away, her fingers tugging at the hem of the hoodie. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” his suitcase thuds against the floor while he fixes his eyes on her. “Why are you in my apartment? We said we’d take some time apart.”

Her shoulders hunch defensively, but her voice remains the same as he knows it — soothing, carrying so much tenderness that it could stop wars. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Lando exhales harshly, nodding while dragging a hand through his curls. “We agreed on space, remember?” he insists, “You can’t just show up here like nothing happened.”

“I didn’t—show up,” she snaps, her tone suddenly sharper. “I’ve been here for a while. I didn’t know you were coming back so soon,” she repeats.

“Okay, then. Let me get this straight. You're here, but you don’t answer my texts anymore,” he fires back. “Does that make any sense to you? ‘Cause it sure as hell doesn't for me.”

“I was going to,” she retorts, standing now, the oversized hoodie swallowing her frame.

Lando takes a step forward, his hands on his hips. “I don't understand you. I thought this was what you wanted,” he says, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Space. Time. A chance to figure out if we even work anymore.”

“Yes,” the girl agrees, “I wanted to figure us out, not pretend we don’t exist.”

Lando's voice rises, his frustration spilling over, “You think I’m pretending? I’m doing what I thought you wanted! Because every time we’re together, we just end up—”

“Fighting,” she finishes bitterly. “Yeah, I know. Do you think I enjoy feeling like this all the time?”

His shoulders slump slightly, the fight draining out of him. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice softer now. “I don’t know what to think or do anymore.”

They stand there in silence, the weight of their shared frustration pressing down on them. She sits back down on the couch, clasping her hands on the edge of it.

When she finally speaks again, her voice cracks. “I don't want to fight, Lando. I’ve been staying here because I couldn’t be in my own place. Everywhere I looked, I saw you. I thought maybe if I stayed here, it would make sense to feel your presence, because it's your place.”

Lando’s jaw tightens as he lets her words sink in. The sight of her, wearing his clothes with tears in her eyes makes his chest ache. He wants to wrap himself around her and make sure nothing will ever hurt her again, but the ego works a double shift tonight.

Still, “I'm not mad that you're here,” he clarifies. “But why didn’t you tell me?” asks Lando quietly.

“I didn’t think it would make a difference,” she whispers. “I planned to leave before you… Well, it doesn't matter now.”

“See, that right there is the fucking problem. Of course it matters! Why wouldn't—”

“Because!” her firm voice interrupts him. “We keep hurting each other, and I honestly don’t think we'll ever stop. You’re stubborn and selfish, and I’m jealous, and we both jump to the worst conclusions about each other all the fucking time.”

Lando sighs, “Right,” he says after a pause, his voice laced with guilt. “I am stubborn and selfish,” he agrees, “I get angry too fast. Is that it? And you—you think I’m always looking for a reason to leave.”

Her breath catches as she looks down at a random point on the floor. “Aren’t you?”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He steps much closer, his voice firm. “No. I’m not. But you make it so damn hard to stay sometimes.”

He regrets his words the second they leave his mouth. He's aware that she's not the only one to blame for the situation that they're in, but at the moment, he's making it seem that way. He can't look at her hurt expression, so Lando closes his eyes for a second, a long silence settling in the distance dug so deeply between them.

She continues to look at him, anger flaring in her eyes. “Yeah, well, you make it hard to trust you, Lando. Every time you’re away, I feel like I’m waiting for the other bomb to drop.”

He finally opens his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright, what do you want from me, hm?” he asks. “I don't know what you expect me to do.”

Her voice breaks as she replies, “I don't have any expectations left. I just want to stop feeling like I’m losing you all the time.”

Lando’s face softens, the exhaustion from weeks of racing and months of fighting etched into every line. He steps closer, slowly, until he’s standing in front of her. He crouches down so they’re eye level, his expression conflicted.

Even as hurt as she is now, he is still amazed by her beauty. Gazing down at him, she spreads her legs gently so she could make more room for him in her space. However, she's doesn't dare to touch him, no matter how badly she needs to feel him, just to remind herself that he's real.

“I'm so fucking tired, baby,” says Lando, his voice breaking slightly. “Aren’t you tired?”

She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Every day, especially when you're not here,” she chokes out. “But I still want to try. God, Lando, I can’t imagine not trying.”

His hands reach for hers almost instinctively, but he acts with the same hesitation, pulling back at the last second. She notices, the flicker of hurt on her face evident in the way she squeezes her eyes shut, only to erase that image from her memory.

They sit in silence for a while, the air thick with unresolved issues and the weight of everything they can’t say. He studies her, trying to think ahead, but it’s impossible when she's like this — indecisive and lost.

Finally, Lando stands up, exhaling sharply. “I need a shower,” he mutters, heading toward the bathroom without another word.

She watches him go, her heart sinking. She’s still here, but somehow, it feels like she’s further away from him than ever. All she wants to do is jump into his arms and tell him she's missed him so much these past few weeks. Tell him how much she loves him, and that she would do anything to see him happy and satisfied with their life together. But she's too far away, and if she doesn't jump high enough, she could find herself free-falling, with no one to catch her on the other side. And that's too much of a risk, even for her.

When Lando comes back, his hair damp and his expression unreadable, she’s standing by the window, looking out at the city lights.

She doesn’t turn when he approaches, but she speaks softly, her voice small. “Do you even want me here?”

Lando freezes, her question cutting deeper than he expects. After a long pause, he answers, his voice low. “Of course,” he says. “But I honestly don’t think it's a good idea.”

She finally turns to look at him, her eyes searching his face. “Yeah…” the girl nods slowly. “I just—Lando. I can’t keep doing this if I’m the only one who believes we can make it.”

Lando nods. “Thing is, I don't know what to believe anymore,” he says honestly, his voice steady.

A simple truth that neither of them wants to acknowledge. But even as the words hang in the air, neither of them moves to leave. Because for all the pain, there’s still something tethering them together — something they’re both terrified to lose.

“I’ll take the couch,” he finally says, tugging the throw blanket off the armrest. His voice is flat, drained of the emotion that had filled it earlier.

“What?” she asks, startled.

“You can have the bed,” he clarifies, avoiding her gaze as he starts arranging the blanket. “It’s late. We’re both tired, and this… we can’t fix this tonight. We should rest and talk it out in the morning.”

She opens her mouth to protest, the words forming instinctively, but then she stops herself. He looks so tired, not just physically but emotionally. His shoulders are tense, his jaw set in that stubborn way she knows so well. He’s trying to create the space she's been asking for — not because he doesn’t care, but because he does.

“Okay,” she ends up saying, her voice small. Defeated. Once again.

At that, Lando turns to meet her eyes, his expression serious, almost distant. It’s a side of him she doesn’t see often, the version of Lando that’s careful and guarded. She hates it, hates the way it makes her feel like a stranger to him. But mostly, she hates that she’s the one who’s brought this out in him.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, his voice tinged with a finality that makes her stomach churn.

Alright then.

“'Night,” she replies, walking past him, their arms touching lightly.

She retreats to his bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her. The familiar scent of him — clean, musky, intoxicating but soothing, grounding her with its quiet presence and making her feel more at home than ever — wraps around her as she crawls into the bed they’ve shared so many times before. But it feels different now, colder, emptier. Foreign, somehow.

For a stupid, silly moment, she lets herself believe that things will be okay in the morning. That they’ll talk, really talk, and find a way back to each other. She clings to that thought as she stares up at the ceiling, her fingers clutching the edge of the blanket. But no matter how hard she tries, she can't shake the feeling that this is it.

Neither of them sleeps for hours after that.

IT'S FOUR IN the morning when Lando lies on the couch, his eyes fixed on the darkened ceiling as his thoughts race. He can hear the faint creak of the bed when she shifts, knowing she's not asleep, either, and it tugs at something deep inside him. He’s never been good at leaving things unfinished, and this is no different.

He pushes himself up from the couch for what feels like the hundredth time, his fingers curling and uncurling in frustration.

Maybe this whole thing was a mistake.

Maybe he shouldn’t have come home.

Maybe this is exactly why they need space, because when they're in each other's proximity, he simply can't think straight. Especially when she's just a few feet away, separated by only a simple door.

A door that masks the sounds of her soft cry.

Then, he hears the same faint sound, broken, but unmistakable. It cuts through his doubts like a knife through butter, sending a sharp pang of guilt and something deeper, a lot darker, straight to his chest. He hesitates for only a moment before moving toward the bedroom, his steps careful, almost hesitant. His hand hovers over the door, his heart pounding against his ribs as he takes a deep breath in.

Lando knocks softly, his voice barely louder than the quiet hum of the apartment. “Is everything okay?”

Nothing.

He knocks again, his jaw tightening.

The silence presses against him, thick and suffocating, until he can’t take it anymore. He twists the knob and pushes the door open, his pulse roaring in his ears as his eyes adjust to the dim light.

She’s sprawled on his bed, the sheets tangled around her hips, one hand clenched in the fabric while the other moves between her thighs. Her head is tilted back, her lips parted in soft, shaky gasps, and her eyes are squeezed shut like she’s trying to block out the rest of the world.

His throat goes dry, his emotions colliding in a chaotic storm of shock, desire, and something dangerously close to anger. Not anger at her — it never is — but at the situation, at the rift between them that’s left her seeking comfort this way. And at himself, for not being able to fix it.

He should walk away. He knows he should. But instead, he steps into the room, his movements slow and calculated as he crosses his arms over his chest, watching her intently.

Her eyes snap open, and for a moment, she looks utterly petrified. Her cheeks flush a deep crimson as she scrambles to sit up, her legs snapping shut as she fumbles for words.

“No, don’t let me interrupt you,” says Lando, his voice low and rough.

“You scared the shit out of me, Lando,” she stammers, her voice trembling. “I thought you were…”

Asleep.

“And I thought you were crying,” he says, wetting his lips. “Well, I was right in a way.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and she looks away, her hands twisting nervously in the sheets. He hates the way she shrinks under his gaze, but he can’t stop himself from taking another step forward. His jaw tightens again. He doesn’t know what to say or do, circling back to the same feeling.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to feel, either — hurt, anger, longing?

So much lust.

The silence stretches between them until it’s almost unbearable. And then, finally, she moves, swinging her legs off the bed like she’s about to leave.

But he doesn’t let her.

His hand shoots out, grabbing her ankle and tugging her back toward the edge of the bed. Her gasp echoes in the quiet room, her wide eyes locked on his as he steps between her legs, his grip firm but not forceful.

“What are you doing?” she whispers, her voice shaky, a mix of uncertainty and... hope that she already knows the answer.

“Fuck if I know,” he admits. His hands slide up her thighs, spreading them apart again, and he drops to his knees in front of her. “But I can’t just… I can’t leave you like this.”

“Baby,” she breathes, her tone caught between a plea and a warning.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “Please. I can't take this shit anymore.”

At the sound of his pleading, she reaches out, her fingers threading through his hair as her breath hitches. It’s all the permission he needs to press his lips to her warm entrance, soft and tentative at first, but when she arches into him, her body trembling beneath his touch, something inside him snaps.

Lando doesn’t hesitate once she gives in, her fingers tightening in his hair as her thighs tremble against his shoulders. His hands grip her legs, his touch firm but reverent, holding her open for him like he’s afraid she’ll change her mind.

The first swipe of his tongue over her slit is slow and deliberate, tasting her in a way that makes her breath hitch. He hums low in his throat, the vibration sending a shockwave through her that has her head falling back against the mattress.

“Lan…do,” her voice breaks on his name, a soft moan that sends a shiver down his spine.

“Always so sweet for me, love,” he exhales heavily, her scent intoxicating.

Lando's grip on her thighs tightens as he pulls her closer, his tongue moving with purpose now, circling her clit and flicking in a rhythm that makes her toes curl. The erotic sounds from between her legs make her close her eyes in pleasure, her pussy tightening around him with each intentional stroke of his tongue. He’s thorough, so meticulous, as though he’s trying to commit every whimper and every twitch of her body to memory.

“That's so good, Lan. Feels so good,” she lets out a string of moans, her eyes rolling as the air gets knocked out of her lungs. “Oh, god, I've missed your mouth so much.”

She traces her hand through his hair, holding him while her hips push forward, the bridge of his nose tickling her clit so sweetly. He wants to drown in her, to lose himself in the way she responds to him, every single time.

Each gasp feels like a lifeline, tethering him to something real, something he can hold on to when everything else feels so uncertain. Her fingers curl in his hair, tugging slightly as her hips begin to move against him, chasing the friction he so willingly gives. Lando's jaw clenches at the way she’s unraveling for him, and he redoubles his efforts, his tongue flicking faster, more insistently, as he pulls out to suck gently on her clit.

“Baby, please,” she's almost crying, her voice shaky, but still cutting through the air like a plea for salvation. “Need you… so close.”

Lando doesn’t stop. He can’t. Especially not when her legs start to tremble against him, her breathing becoming erratic as she teeters on the edge. Instead, he slides one hand from her thigh to her hip, pressing her down slightly to keep her steady while his other hand moves swiftly to where he has been tongue-fucking her. His long fingers slide gently through her wetness, curling inside as he finds the spot that makes her see stars.

She feels herself opening wider for him, then clenching harder while he adds just enough pressure to make her body tense, his tongue never ceasing its rhythm.

“Lando, I—” her words dissolve into a broken moan, and he knows she’s close.

His heart pounds in his chest as he keeps going, the sound of his fingers fucking in and out of her pussy blending so beautifully with the noise of his tongue lapping at her clit. He doesn’t care how long it takes; he’ll stay between her thighs forever if he has to. He won't move again until she falls apart beneath him. For him. Maybe then Lando will understand why he needs her so much, why the thought of losing her feels like losing a piece of himself.

When she comes, it’s like the world stops from spinning. Her body tenses, her thighs trembling as she cries out his name, over and over again, her release washing over her in waves. He should pull out and give her time to ride out her orgasm, but his tongue and fingers coaxing her through it, making her gasp for another breath, is sending shocks of ecstasy to his hardened cock. In his desperate attempt to relieve his pain, he rubs himself against the bed, but it is not nearly enough.

Finally, when her hands are falling limply from his hair, that's when Lando slows down his movements. He presses soft kisses against her inner thighs as he pulls back slightly, his hands gently stroking her soft legs.

“You alright?” asks Lando, his voice raw.

She looks down at him, her chest heaving as their eyes meet. There’s something vulnerable in his gaze, something that makes her throat tighten. His lips are swollen and glossy, his chin slick and glistening from her arousal. His breathing is as unsteady as hers, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if he’s just run a marathon. The sight of him like this — completely undone and yet so devastatingly composed — makes her stomach clench with need. More need.

“Mhm,” she manages, heat rising from her chest to her cheeks, while her hand involuntarily travels back between her own legs.

Lando slowly wipes the wetness from his chin with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving hers. The motion is deliberate, almost taunting, as if he wants her to remember every second of her high. Then he rises to his feet, his big frame towering over her as he leans forward, bracing himself on either side of her hips. Her breath catches as he hovers above her, so beautiful and wrecked, his face so close that she can feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

She expects Lando to kiss her, her lips parting slightly in anticipation, but instead, he tilts his head and murmurs, his voice a low rasp that sends a shiver down her spine.

“If you wanted me to fuck you, all you had to do was ask, baby,” his unfiltered voice makes her heart race in her chest. “I don’t care that we’re fighting. It doesn’t matter how tired I am,” he continues, his eyes dark and piercing as they lock onto hers. “I’ll stop anything, drop everything, just to fuck my needy girl, yeah?”

The bluntness of his words, paired with the raw intensity in his voice, leaves her momentarily speechless, the pads of her fingers collecting whatever is left from her release. She whimpers softly, her lips parting again as she brings her fingers to his, pushing inside his mouth while watching his pupils dilating. Lando sucks on them with the same thirst as earlier, biting softly when she tires to pull out. At that, something inside her snaps. She surges up, her hands gripping the back of his neck as she pulls him into a fierce, desperate kiss.

His lips are warm and soft, slick with the taste of her still lingering there, and she can’t help the way she moans into his mouth. He groans in response, deep and guttural, as his tongue slides between her lips, claiming her in a way that makes her stomach flip.

It feels like fire and desperation, like he’s trying to pour all of his frustration into one single kiss. When his tongue moves against hers, she whimpers, the sensation achingly familiar yet entirely overwhelming. It feels like he’s everywhere, like he’s consuming her from the inside out, and she doesn’t want it to stop. Ever.

“Lan,” she moans into his mouth, “Please…”

Her pleading seem to break something in him. Lando pulls back just enough to meet her gaze, his lips curling into a slow, crooked grin, making her realize how bad she's missed seeing it. There’s something tender yet profoundly sad in his expression, though, a quiet heartbreak that makes her chest burn.

“Please, what? Hm, what do you need?” he murmurs, his hand tracing a soft, reverent path down her body.

His fingers graze her collarbone, her ribs, her hip, each touch filled with a tenderness that feels almost out of place amidst the heat between them. But she doesn’t care about the sadness or the hesitation. Not right now. She arches into his touch, her hands clutching at his shoulders as she's whispering nonsense, too drunk on him to make more sense than that.

Lando’s breath mingles with hers, his lips brushing hers in the faintest of kisses as he whispers, “You aching for me, baby?”

Her nod is small, almost imperceptible, but he feels it, and his hand slips down to her hip, grounding her. The weight of his touch is familiar, comforting even, and it sends a tremor through her body that she doesn’t try to hide.

“Hurts so bad,” she admits, her voice cracking as her eyes meet his.

“I know,” he nods slowly, his voice thick with emotion. “Can I me make it better?”

“Always.”

He presses his lips to hers fully now, a slow, lingering kiss that feels like a balm against the ache between them. It starts soft, tentative, as if they’re testing the waters, but quickly grows deeper. His tongue sweeps across her bottom lip, and she opens for him, sighing into his mouth as he kisses her with all the longing, irritation, and so much love that he’s been holding back.

His hands move with purpose, sliding under the hem of her shirt — his shirt — and pushing it up, exposing her bare skin. She gasps as his palms graze her sides, his touch igniting a fire that spreads through her veins.

Lando pulls back just enough to tug the shirt over her head, his eyes darkening as he takes her in. “My beautiful baby,” he says, almost like he’s reminding himself that she still belongs to him and vice versa.

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look away. Instead, she reaches for him, her fingers tugging at the hem of his own shirt. He helps her, pulling it off in one fluid motion before pressing his chest against hers, their bare skin meeting in a way that feels like coming back home after a long, tiring trip.

They move together like this, slowly shedding the layers between them until there’s nothing left but their bodies and the weight of everything they've done wrong.

He lowers her onto the bed, his lips never leaving hers as he settles between her legs. The warmth of his body, the solidity of him, makes her feel anchored, even as the storm inside her threatens to consume her. And when he enters her, it’s heaven, deliberate, like he’s savoring every inch of her. She moans, her hands flying to his shoulders as he stretches her, filling her with his perfect length. He stills for a moment, his forehead pressed against hers as they both adjust to his size.

“Remember how easy it used to be?” he whispers.

She nods while his lips are brushing her temple. “Yeah. I remember.”

The first thrust is painfully slow, managing to pull a soft moan from her lips. But soon enough, Lando sets a rhythm, one that feels familiar, almost nostalgic, like they’re trying to recapture the simplicity of how things used to be. She matches him, her hips rising to meet his, their bodies moving together in perfect sync.

As the pace builds, so does the intensity and vulnerability between them. The kisses become messier, more desperate, and his thrusts deepen, driving into her with a force that feels like a mix of anger and love.

“I don’t want this to be the end,” he says suddenly, his voice cracking as her nails dig into his back, leaving crimson lines in their wake.

“No?” she asks, a little hesitant.

His movements falter for a split second before he recovers, his eyes locking onto hers. “God. No, baby,” he says, his voice thick with determination. “We can fix this. I swear we can.”

Tears well in her eyes, and she can see his own glistening in the obscure lighting. They’re both breaking, and yet neither of them wants to let go.

Lando thrusts harder now, the force of it making her cry out as her body arches beneath him. She meets him halfway, her legs wrapping around his waist as she pulls him deeper inside her, as close as humanly possible. The room fills with the sounds of their bodies slapping against each other, their breathing, and their muffled cries.

“I need you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the rush of their movements. “Like this, all the time. Only you.”

“You have me,” he replies, his voice breaking. “You’ll always have me, you know that.”

“Promise me,” she demands as she starts clenching around him, the heat building once again inside her.

Lando gasps at the feeling, fucking into her harder. “Shit, baby. I promise you. I promise.”

The weight of his words pushes her over the edge, her release hitting her harder the second time around. She cries out, tears streaming down her face as her body shakes beneath him. He follows moments later, his own climax tearing through him as he buries his face in her neck, his shoulders trembling with the force of it.

They stay like that, tangled together, their bodies molding into each other as they come down from the high. But the tears don’t stop. They cling to each other, crying softly as the reality of their situation crashes down on them.

“I love you so much,” he says, feeling her fingers tracing patterns on his back.

“I love you, too,” she admits without hesitation. “Do you think that's enough?”

Lando lifts his head, his eyes red-rimmed but full of a tentative hope. “No. But it's a start.”

PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOT

MASTERLIST

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oneoftheextras · 2 months ago

Text

lockjaw | j.t three

masterlist | help me fund my top-surgery?

paring: hybrid puppy!jayce talis x f!reader

request: after a recent breakup you find yourself adopting a hybrid to keep you company, but he's more feral than you can handle

series warnings: 18+, hybrid jayce (ears and tail), slight a/b/o traits (could argue alpha jayce), eventual smut, protective jayce, size difference

words: 7.3k

chapter warnings: size difference, a smidge of hunter/prey, and anxious reader

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

want a handwritten letter from a character? / join the discord

The following weeks were filled with interviews and background tests in between work shifts; you were mentally and physically exhausted.

The vet had pre-warned you with how many hoops you’d have to jump through, but this was more than you had previously anticipated.

They really weren't joking when they said they don't let just anyone adopt a hybrid.

Today was your home inspection. The whole morning had been spent deep cleaning every inch of your home and making it look like something you'd see walking through IKEA.

Once you were done, your apartment was spotless - a bit too spotless.

You sat down on your couch and shuffled around a bit to make it seem at least like someone lived here.

Admittedly, when they told you they would be visiting your home, you'd spent hours searching the internet for how to make your place more comfortable and appropriate.

Looking at different adoption forums to give you an idea of what the inspectors would look for as hazards and immediately removing them from your home.

Candles were bought, lit and then blown out because you didn't like the scent.

Eventually you baked some cookies and left them in the oven after reading that it was an old realtor trick to make a place seem more homely.

Never before had you made such an effort to make your home so appealing.

There was just enough time to shower and get dressed before they arrived, even then, your hair was still slightly damp at the ends when the first knock hit your door.

You gave it one last ruffle with the towel before you opened the door, not wanting to keep them waiting too long and having your first impression be one of tardiness.

"Hello!" you smiled brightly as you swung the door open, seeing the vet who introduced you to Jayce the first time - you'd come to learn that her name was Dr Nala - with a man you'd never met before. His expression was pretty stern.

She greeted you with the same enthusiasm. As she stepped over the threshold of your apartment, your heart thumped in your chest, this was the last sprint to the finish line.

"Have you been baking?" she asked almost immediately and you tried to hide the grin that crept up on your face, not wanting to seem too keen, "I have!" you confimed.

She nodded and continued to follow you through to the living room area, "I'll admit, I don't think I'm very good at it, but when you follow a recipe it's pretty simple," you rambled nervously.

You gestured to the couch for them to take a seat, "Oh, would you like a drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?" the speed at which you were talking wasn't normal for you, and you had to mentally tell yourself to slow down.

"Water would be lovely," Dr Nala spoke gently, but the man just shook his head no.

Hurrying to the kitchen you grabbed your nicest glass and filled it with water, your had was visibly shaking. Inhaling slowly through your nose and out through your mouth again, you took a second to compose yourself.

They had only just got here, you needed to show them that you were capable of looking after someone else, and you weren't going to do that if you were falling apart already.

"I've got this," you muttered to yourself, "I've got this!" you repeated with more confidence.

Handing her the glass of water and sliding a coaster onto the table in front of her to put the glass on, you took a seat in the armchair adjacent to them.

She eyed the coaster carefully and sipped her water, the silence was killing you.

"Your apartment is lovely," she complimented after she'd swallowed her sip, but you could tell she wasn't done, "Is it always this tidy?" she asked kindly, but bluntly.

You let out a small laugh, but when you realised it was a serious question your mind went into overdrive - what was the correct answer?

"For the most part," you settled on, "I try to keep it clean as much as I can, but I'm not obsessed with it being like this all the time," you said with honesty.

The man, who was yet to speak or introduce himself, started taking notes and your heart dropped. That must've been a wrong answer.

"But I'm not a slob or anything!" you quickly redacted what you said, trying to make up for any blunder you'd already made.

"May we have a look around?" Dr Nala asked politely, and you didn't know if you were thankful or not that she didn't address what you'd said.

The speed at which you stood up was too-eager, "Of course!".

'Chill, you need to chill!' Your inner monologue screamed at you.

The two stood almost in unison and followed you out of the room, "As I said to you when we first met, it's nothing big or fancy, just a one-bed apartment," you showed them your bedroom first.

They glanced around the room; one starting with the left-hand-side and the other starting with the right, meeting in the middle at some point to cross over - whilst you stood awkwardly with your arm out like you were presenting a gameshow prize.

"So, this is my bed, obviously," you tried to make it humorous but were really worried it didn't come across that way.

Dr Nala hummed, "Have you thought about where Jayce would sleep?" she turned to you, giving you her full attention and awaited your answer.

"Uh-" you started. No, you hadn't. You'd been panicking so much about passing all these exams that you hadn't given it a moments notice, "-Wherever he wants, I guess?" you couldn't have sounded more unsure.

A dog bed just felt wrong and dehumanising. Yes, technically he was going to be your 'pet', but imagining him trying to curl up on one of those small circular beds on the floor didn't sit right with you.

The idea of finding one big enough to fit him was even worse.

She raised an eyebrow at you, and you knew for sure that wasn't the right answer to give.

"I mean, honestly, I thought he'd like the couch. It's pretty comfortable, and a lot of my research said that's what hybrids prefer!" you began to ramble again.

She watched you as you spoke, "I guess, my plan was to ask him the next time I saw him." you confessed, "And if he didn't like what I have here already then we'd go together to get something he did like," you were thinking aloud and for once you weren't trying to think of the perfect answer.

"Your research?" she repeated your words back to you and you felt a pang of embarrassment. "Yeah! I've been looking up things when I've had the time, to make sure I know what I'm doing before he-" you stopped yourself, "If, he gets here," you corrected.

She stared at you for a moment before admiring your bedroom again, "You care a lot," she commented and left the room, showing herself the rest of your home.

She walked into the bathroom, there was a shower-bath and the essentials with a small roof window for ventilation.

"Is this the only bathroom?" she pointed at nowhere in particular inside the room, "Uh-huh," you nodded, but when she didn't say anything else and simply left, you wondered if one bathroom was enough.

Finally, they moved into the kitchen, observing the area the same way they had every other room.

There was an island in the centre that doubled up as a table with the high stools you'd put there.

"Have you thought about meals?" she asked as her small heels made a clicking sound against the tiles.

It was strange to think that this woman was the same person who had been so excited to show you the hybrids in the first place.

"Yeah, protein is a priority but he'd be able to eat the same things as me as long as it's balanced correctly," you practically regurgitated a sentence that you'd seen online.

She nodded slowly, "He does have his likes and dislikes-" she started to say but you interrupted her, "-I know," you opened a draw and pulled out a notebook where you'd copied the things he didn't like from the file she gave you and slid it across the counter to her.

The pair shared a glance as she read your notes.

"Okay, well we wont take up any more of your time," she smiled again, and the suddenness of their departure made your heart sink, it couldn't be a good sign.

You hurriedly put the notebook back into your draw, "Is it okay? My home I mean?" you were speaking quickly again, "Is it suitable? I know it's small, and he's, well, big, but there's a park close by and I need to get out mor-", she interrupted you by saying your name before you started to spiral too much.

"The main purpose of these visits is to make sure the home is safe and welcoming, the main factor being the person living in it," she chuckled, her pleasant demeanour returning.

She tapped her fingers on the counter delicately and glanced around the room, "It's evident that you care a lot, and want the best for him, and that is the most important thing. I have no doubt he will be very happy here with you,".

"Does that mean I'm approved?" you held your breath, "Well, there's paperwork to fill in, but I see no reason why he wouldn't-", "-thank you, thank you, thank you," you shamelessly jumped off of the floor with excitement.

There were happy tears building up in your waterline that you hadn't expected to be there, just over a month ago you had no clue that Jayce existed, now you were the happiest you'd been in a long time.

"Don't thank us, thank you for giving him a second chance," her tone was kind and full of sincerity.

"Could I try one of those cookies?" the man who'd been taking notes finally spoke. You laughed and nodded, wiping at your eyes to make sure you wouldn't actually cry, and plated the cookies that were still sat in the oven.

He ate one happily and hummed to show his enjoyment. Goodbyes were said and they promptly left, taking the anxiety and weight of the encounter off of your shoulders with them.

The following days were torture. A monotonous cycle of getting up, going to work, spending the evening alone, going to bed and repeating.

Wednesday was the day you were bringing him home.

They'd suggested you visit him one more time so you could let him know the good news yourself, but your workload had increased tenfold due to someone being on maternity leave.

Oftentimes you were working through your lunch break, and the sanctuary didn't allow visits after 6pm.

However, you'd booked Wednesday off as holiday and you were collecting him at 4pm, giving you most of the day to buy some last minute things.

By the time you'd done all of your shopping and put it in the right place inside your home, it was almost time to leave.

All too eager to see him again, you left early - driving perhaps a little too fast along the roads, you made one stop along the way, but you made it there safely.

"Hello, I'm here for-" you started as you walked into reception but they were already expecting you, "-Big day today!" the male vet from your last visit brimmed with excitement.

You chuckled at his enthusiasm and nodded, swallowing back how nervous you were.

He lead you through the corridors that were all too familiar to you at this point, but you took a new turn away from the sanctuary you were used to.

The delay in your footsteps as you slowed at the corner you normally took didn't go unnoticed by him, "He's not in there," he called from the other hallway.

Twisting your head back in the other direction, you continued to follow him, "We have a different pick up point for the ones leaving us, it would be too distressing for them and the other residents to do it in the communal area," he explained.

"Yeah, that makes sense," you shook your head, annoyed at yourself that there was yet another thing you didn't think of, but you didn't have time to self-scold.

He stopped at a singular white door and you felt like your lungs had rolled themselves up like when you're trying to get the last bits of toothpaste out of the tube, all ability to breathe was gone.

The vet grinned at you as he pushed open the door, allowing you to step in first.

For a second you thought your knees were going to give out on you. You couldn't remember the last time you were this nervous.

What if he didn't want to go with you? What if he didn't like you as much as you liked him? What if they were forcing him to leave so they could say they were able to get the feral hybrid adopted?

You shook your head to try and get rid of the bad thoughts but they swam around in your brain like algae in a pond, clinging to every surface.

When you finally entered the room he was in the corner next to the window overlooking the parking lot with his arms folded across his chest, he'd watched you arrive.

"Hey," you spoke softly and made sure your tone was as friendly as it could possibly be to not startle him.

He turned his head towards you and the side of his mouth twitched upwards into a smile for just a second, and you felt a tiny piece of worry fall from the mountain you'd created.

"I assume you know why I'm here?" you queried and slowly approached him, he nodded and his tail swished slowly behind him, but the vet vocally responded for him, "Oh yes, we told him yesterday!", causing his tail to stop just as quickly as it had started.

His interruption irritated you. There was a small part of you that wanted to remind him that you hadn't asked him.

Instead, you tried to not let him sour this moment and kept your focus on Jayce. Watching his body language and facial expressions intently for any signs of discomfort or distress.

"Are you okay with it?" you asked him quietly, your voice unintentionally more hushed than usual so though you were trying to make sure that your words only fell on his ears.

He gazed at you, not really giving too much of an indication of a reply to your question; he seemed somewhat indifferent to the idea.

The pang in your chest returned, it felt like your muscles were closing in around your heart - squeezing just enough to allow it to keep beating but hard enough to make it hurt.

Was this your sign that he didn't like you? That he didn't want to leave?

You shuffled forward but made sure to keep your distance, "If home isn't with me, that's okay," you focused on keeping your voice strong and confident, but couldn't tell if you were failing.

One of his ears perked up when you said 'home', leaving the tips to bounce at the sudden muscle movement.

You noticed it but didn't want to give yourself any false hope, instead you let the sensation flutter across your chest.

"I'd really like it if you did," the sleeve of your hoodie was suddenly very interesting. "But it's your choice," if you were paying attention to him, you would've noticed how his eyebrows lost their tension at the sound of your sincerity.

Inhaling, you braved meeting his eye, "Do you want to come home with me?".

His ear twitched again but other than that his expression remained unchanged, until he nodded.

It was subtle and quick; down and up, down and up, but it was certain.

You exhaled and felt instantly lighter, "I'm glad," you tried to let yourself relax, the first hurdle was done, "Where are your things?". Other than him and the empty table and chairs, the room was barren.

"He doesn't have any belongings," the annoying observer said from the corner he was lurking in, "What do you mean? He has clothes and...", you stopped to think, "What about his chess set?".

"They're property of the sanctuary, they can't go with him," he smiled, but that was the last thing you wanted to do in this moment.

With gritted teeth, you glanced between Jayce and the vet. Apart from the basic necessities to survive, he truly didn't have anything to hold onto here.

How could you have been so ignorant to ask him if he was happy here before? How could he be? The entire structure was a constant reminder that nothing he touched was his to keep. That it could be taken away at the click of someone else's fingers.

Even his own freedom was not his.

That stopped today. You'd make sure of that.

"What about his boat?", "What boat?". The desire to lose your temper was strong, but you knew that would get you nowhere.

"The boat that he made with Viktor?" there was a new tension to your voice that he should've taken for a warning, but unfortunately, he was as oblivious as he was ignorant.

His eyes found the corner of the room as he feigned thought, "I don't recal-", "It's on the top shelf of the cabinet closest to the door," you didn't allow him space to speak.

The look you gave him dared him to try and dispute it with you, "Once we have that, we'll be out of your hair," you forced the polite and soft lint to your voice.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes drifted to the shadow behind you and it promptly closed. He managed to mutter a simple, "I'll take a look," before he left the visiting room.

The air felt calmer now that he was out of sight, but that creeping feeling of anxiety clawed it's way up your throat as you realised that Jayce had witnessed that whole scene.

"I'm sorry," you turned your body to face him but still avoided his eye - instead finding an interest in the scuffed up black brogues he wore, "I'm not usually like...that," you tried to explain, "I just know it means a lot to you and I couldn't stand the idea of them keeping it,".

Jayce observed you as you spoke. He felt no malice in your words, not even when you were addressing the man who made his ears hurt.

He noticed how you rubbed your own arm for comfort, and how you avoided eye contact with him - he wasn't surprised, most people did. He wished you wouldn't; your eyes were kind.

When you found the ground more interesting than him, he resided to the window. All he could do now was wait.

"This one?" broke the silence, alongside the sound of the door swinging shut.

The vet was holding the mechanical boat between his fingers by a thin part of the mast, and a part of you knew he was doing it on purpose.

"Yes, that's it, thank you!" you quickly took it out of his grasp and nestled it into your own like a baby bird that you'd found injured on the ground - like it was the most precious thing in the world.

The sooner you removed Jayce from this building the better.

Something that hadn't exactly crossed your mind was how he would be on the journey home.

You took the lead with him trailing behind you at a larger distance than you'd hoped for, you suppose it was natural for him to be uneasy being outside. It wasn't clear as to whether the vets let them go outside of the sanctuary.

Someone like Jayce probably wasn't given that luxury, with his size and obvious athletic build, they would stand no chance of getting him back if he decided to run.

Influenced by your own train of thought, you peered over your shoulder half-expecting him to not be there anymore. Much to your joy, he was.

Opening the door to your car for him and waiting for him to catch up to you, the thought occurred to you; had he ridden in a car before?

Surprisingly, he sat down in the passenger seat with no issue. Apart from having to duck quite significantly to not hit his head.

Once you'd taken your own seat and closing the door softly, he mirrored your movements, clicking his own door shut.

His nose twitched as he scanned his surroundings. There was a sweet smell that tingled his nostrils and filled his senses, but he couldn't place it.

He checked the seats behind him but it wasn't coming from there. The space between his eyebrows wrinkled in frustration at not being able to locate the scent, it was surrounding him.

"I, uh-" your voice drew him out of his search, "I got you coffee on the way here," you were holding up a light brown cup and he noticed that there was an identical cup in the holder separating your legs from his.

He wrapped his fingers around it and accepted the gift, the cup seemingly significantly smaller in his hand compared to yours.

"I'm sorry if it's cold, we were a little longer than I thought we'd be," he lifted the lid of the cup and appreciated the remnants of an intricate flower design in the foam, parts of it had dissolved whilst it had sat in the car.

He inhaled above the liquid, the scent not dissimilar to the one that clouded his brain, but there were elements missing. As if this was one ingredient in the recipe.

He tentatively sipped the coffee, it was luke-warm, but he didn't mind - it was a gift from you.

The butterflies in your stomach fluttered up into your chest as you watched him; his eyes closed and enjoying his drink. You'd had the coffee the sanctuary offered, and it wasn't good. So, you wanted to treat him to something of quality to start your journey together off on the right foot.

When he stopped for breath you chuckled at the milky foam that had clung to the ends of his moustache, the pleasant sound of your laugh turning his attention to you.

"There's- you've got a little bit there," you tapped your top lip and he quickly wiped it with the back of his hand, missing some bubbles.

Subconsciously, you picked up a napkin and reached for him, intending to clean up the patches he'd missed but he moved back sharply, his ears pressed flat against his head and eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Your breath caught in your throat, a wave of guilt crashing over you. Instead, you left your hand in the air, presenting the napkin for him to take.

"Sorry," you muttered as he slowly took the napkin from in-between your fingers and wiped his mouth.

Be mindful. Let him come to you.

When he seemed to be back to the picture of indifference that you'd come to know, you started the car with a rumble and scrolled through your phone for music to put on for the drive home.

What would he even want to listen to? Did he like music?

Overthinking was going to be the death of you, and you hadn't even tackled getting home yet.

Hitting play, you let shuffle decide for you as you reversed out of the parking lot.

Approximately 10 seconds into the song Jayce leaned over to where your phone was in the holder and pressed the pause icon, the tip of his sharp nail making a pleasant sound against the glass of your phone.

With your concentration being on not hitting any of the other parked cars, or running someone over, you didn't have the opportunity to watch what he was doing.

When the song started from the beginning again, then abruptly stopped and a new song started playing, you knew he'd figured out what each button did.

He eventually settled on a slower song with quieter female vocals and leaned back again, placing his coffee cup into the holder next to yours, and you were on your way home.

The time was closer to 5:15pm and with the colder weather seeping in, it was getting darker earlier than usual, but it worked in your favour as somehow you'd timed this journey almost perfectly.

Whilst you couldn't enjoy the scenery as much as you would've liked to, the orangey-yellow hue of the setting sun traced over the road and cars in front of you.

When you eventually hit the rush-hour traffic and your car became stationary in the line of other vehicles just wanting to get home after a long days work, you allowed yourself to take in the world around you.

It wasn't anything too glamourous, and you'd driven along this road multiple times in the past, but somehow it felt different this time.

The city skyline was silhouetted by the backdrop of the golden hour sun, leaving nothing but tall blacked-out shapes for you to view. It was as if someone had stolen an oil painting and pinned it to the outside of your window.

But the vision that caught your eye was Jayce.

His eyes were closed so gently you may have thought he'd fallen asleep if not for his fingers tapping his thigh to the beat of the music playing. The sun rays were trailing through the glass of the window and laying delicately across his face, highlighting freckles that you hadn't noticed before.

He was at peace, basking in the last pieces of warmth this day had to offer him, and for once his face was relaxed - no scowl or caution on his features.

How long had it been since he'd been allowed a moment of tranquillity to truly appreciate something so minimal, something that you'd taken for granted?

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the line of cars starting to move forward again and you debated whether you should hold up the traffic so he could stay like that for just a little while longer, but the honking of horns wasn't worth it.

The car slowly started to move again and, as you'd expected, he opened his eyes at the sensation - for a second you caught how the sunlight refracted in his irises, illuminating the colour to create the illusion of liquid gold.

You wished you could admire them for longer, but with home so close, you didn't want to shatter the moment.

Unlocking the front door was proving to be the hardest task yet. Your hand would not stop shaking.

The constant tremble that plagued your wrist and fingers made it almost impossible to slide the key into the lock.

Did you tidy everything up before you left? What if he didn't like the space?

Well, he'd just climbed three flights of stairs with you and didn't seem the slightest bit out of breath, so he could always run away if he was that offended by your interior decorating.

The door creaked as you held it open for him, "This is us," you said in the softest voice you could muster - the word 'us' felt foreign on your tongue.

He jutted his chin forward, gesturing for you to enter first. Maybe he was just being cautious?

You walked into your apartment the same way you had every day for as long as you'd lived here, putting your bag down on the table and turning towards him.

He stood in the doorway unmoving, his shoulders and the top of his head almost touching the frame, surveying the room with hooded eyes.

Your best guess would've been that he was checking for any dangers, or simply mustering up the courage to breach the threshold of his new home.

His eyes met yours and you realised you were staring. That probably wouldn't help encourage him.

"Take your time, I need to get something," you tried to hold your head high and straighten your back as if the weight of worry wasn't compressing your spine.

You stepped out of his line of sight and into the hallway that connected to your bedroom and bathroom. Turning right, you chose the former - you'd have to remember to close your door when you slept from now on.

A quick inhale to try and starve off the nerves that lingered, then you picked up a pile of things you'd purchased earlier in the day.

There was a doubt in your head that if you glanced towards the front door that it would still be open but the doorframe empty. If you didn't look then, if you were right, you could live in ignorance.

You exited your bedroom and turned left towards the living room again, but hit a solid wall and stumbled backwards - it was your fault for keeping your eyeline on the things in your arms.

A stupid thought created an unnecessary fear of your own front door and had caused you to slam into a building structure that had been there for a year.

But you hadn't. When your eyelids opened from the shock, you were exactly where you thought you'd be - your back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling of your hallway.

Jayce stood as the blockade between yourself and the living room. He glanced down at you with a cocked eyebrow and a crinkled nose of confusion. He'd followed you once you were out of sight and just so happened to collide with you.

With him staring down at you from such a height, you understood why the other hybrids at the sanctuary didn't invade his space. He was intimidating, even if he wasn't trying to be.

His shadow cast over you and shrouded you with ease, and his bright eyes pierced through the darkness like the sight on a gun lining up it's target.

Your chest moved up and down rapidly, your mouth going dry, the familiar feeling of inferiority fell over you the same way it had when you were playing chess against him.

He stepped forward and your breath hitched in your throat, images of his sharp canines and pointed nails flashed in front of your eyes - was this the type of mistake you heard about in true crime podcasts?

He saw the glossy fear in your eyes. He saw it in a lot of people, he'd become accustom to the gaze of alarm staring back at him.

Something about that tension in your eyes, paired with how helpless and small you were on the ground made his heart beat harder and his mouth salivate. For what reason? He was unsure.

He shook his head - his fluffy ears waving with the motion - and he averted his gaze as he lowered himself to the ground, bending at the knees until he knelt on them.

As his shadow shrunk so did your worry. You were unable to move for longer than you would've liked, it reminded you of a rabbit in headlights.

When he started to pick up the pieces of clothing and paper bags you'd dropped you finally snapped out of it, getting up off your back and helping him collect the discarded objects.

"T-Thank you," it came out as a tremble so you cleared your throat.

He didn't hand you the things, instead he backed out of the hallway and stepped to the side so you could pass.

You shuffled past him and gently dropped everything onto the couch, "These are actually for you!".

The assortment laid in a mess on the couch so you tidied them into piles as you spoke, "I didn't know what you'd like, or what would fit you, so I had to guess," you placed the clothes onto one cushion, and the paper bags on the other.

He picked up one of the tops you'd bought for him and held it up, by visuals alone it seemed like it would fit him. He pinched the fabric of the white button-up shirt he was wearing and looked at you.

"You don't have to wear them if you don't want to!" you stepped back from the couch to give him some space, "But I thought you'd like to have a change of clothes, something more comfortable," you called behind you as you entered the kitchen.

It was getting late; you were slightly hungry, and you weren't sure when he last ate so you pre-heated the oven and got to work.

After around thirty minutes of quiet - apart from the sound of the oven humming and water boiling - you grew worried.

You were sure he would be okay, but were you doing the right thing by leaving him to his own devices so soon after he got here?

Most of the forums and blogs you'd read told you that it was best to let them find their own way around the home. In some cases they recommended isolating them to one room until they were used to the smells and sounds of their new home.

Jayce was intelligent, which was great but it causes other problems to arise.

He'd picked up on things just from simply observing you doing them once, whether you were aware of it or not. Which posed the question of, was he like other hybrids?

Would keeping him in your living room for a few days be helpful, or would that freak him out- no. You promised yourself and him that he would have his freedom, which meant he could go where ever he wanted when he wanted.

Once you'd plated the food and slid it over to the counter where the stools were, you thought you'd better go and find out what he was doing and why the apartment was so quiet.

"Jayce?" your voice carried through the hall and hit his ears like a song. It was the first time you'd called him by his name, and he wanted to hear it again.

It wasn't condescending or overly high pitched like how the vets would say his name, you said it with sincerity and kindness. One he didn't hear very often be associated with himself.

When you found him still in the living room, you were greeted by the sight of his bare back, toned and muscular with scars scattered over the tanned skin. "Oh, I'm sorry!" you apologised for the fourth time today.

Your hands shot up to your eyes to give him some privacy, and you turned around leaving almost as quickly as you'd entered, "Foods ready, it's in the kitchen whenever you're done!".

Eventually, he joined you in the kitchen, having now put on a plain black t-shirt and changed into jeans instead of the tattered white shirt and suit trousers he'd arrived in.

As he entered the kitchen you noticed he was holding one of the t-shirts you'd bought for him. It was a light grey long sleeved polo. His eyes flitted up to yours as he handed it to you sheepishly.

You cocked your head with confusion and looked at the fabric, "Did you not like this one?" you asked as he slinked onto the stool in front of one of the plates.

"I didn't know what you liked-" you held up the polo in front of you and stopped mid-sentence when you realised why he had handed it back to you, and more importantly, why he was being avoidant.

There was a tear across the chest, the soft fabric frayed as evidence of a battle lost against a muscular build.

"That's okay!" you tried to hide the chuckle that wanted to leave you, "At least I know what size not to get you from now,". He visibly relaxed, his shoulders lowered as they lost some of their tension.

You folded up the shirt and put it on the counter next to your phone. Sewing it up was always an option, or you could rip it into pieces and use it as dish cloths?

He seemed more comfortable now, chewing on the chicken you'd made slowly as if he was savouring the texture and flavour with every bite.

Despite his nature, he slowly and cleanly ate the food you'd prepared, there was no trepidation about using cutlery either. So you were beginning to wonder if he was actually as feral as the vet had described.

The atmosphere was pleasant. For once you weren't unhappy with someone else being in your space, normally you'd be relatively uncomfortable when another person invaded your home, but there was a familiarity with Jayce.

Other than his large frame being slightly out of place at your counter, it was as if he'd always been there, part of the furniture.

Your train of thought was disrupted by the sound of your phone vibrating across the hard counter top.

The screen lit up with a name you were sure you wouldn't see again, it stopped you in your tracks like flashbang. "I-" you started to say, as if talking to the inanimate object would make it stop.

With a slightly raised heartrate you reached a shaky hand out and tapped the red 'hang up' circle.

Why was he calling you? You'd made it pretty clear that you didn't want any further contact with you after what he'd done, but you couldn't bring yourself to block his contact at the time, and evidentially, you'd forgotten.

Without realising it, you'd been staring at your phone for a good minute before you came back to the present.

You finally tore your eyes away from the screen, "How's the food?" you managed to say, but any sort of response Jayce could've give you was cut short by the annoying buzzing noise echoing on the polished wood.

Jayce's ears flattened against the back of his head at the intrusive sound, and you blinked in semi-disbelief and semi-irritation.

You pressed the hang up button more aggressively, swiped the screen down to turn it onto do not disturb, and placed your phone face down.

"Go away," you whispered to yourself, and Jayce's left ear twitched forward at the hushed tone of your voice.

You stabbed your fork into your food harshly and put it into your mouth, chewing it as you leaned your cheek on your fist.

Thoughts of the past crept their way into your mind, and it was noticeable on your face. You were so occupied with internal questions that you didn't notice Jayce staring at you.

A low huff came from across the table and you looked up at the sound. He was regarding you expectantly; his amber eyes hard and waiting.

"What?" you mumbled with your mouth still full of food. His eyes darted to your phone and then back to your face, and you knew what he was asking, but you weren't sure if you wanted to go there tonight.

Inhaling deeply, you thought about how to respond, "It's nothing," you waved your hand and glanced back down at your almost-empty plate.

He tapped the space on the counter between your plates and twisted his hand to point two fingers upwards towards his face, silently saying, 'Look at me,".

It worked as you re-met his gaze, his stare was still intense but there was a note of curiosity? No, concern perhaps? It was hard to read him.

"Okay, it's not nothing," you sighed, "I'll explain it to you some day, but not tonight, please," you struggled to hold his eye contact, but your response seemed to sedate him as he nodded and returned to his food.

Once you'd finished your meal you put the dishes in the sink and realised it was much later than you thought. "I guess I should give you a quick tour," you laughed as he stayed sat at the counter.

"Obviously this is the kitchen-dining area-" you waved your arm across the room, "-the plates, mugs, and glasses are in here," you opened and closed one of the cupboard door to show him.

"Dry food in here, if you ever get hungry and want a snack," you did the same with the cupboard next to it. "Pots and pans in there," you pointed at one of the lower doors, then to the one next to it, "Cleaning supplies,".

"Fridge, and oven," you put your palm against each metal surfaces respectively, then started walking out of the room, waving for him to follow you, which he did.

He followed you through the living room and into the bathroom, "There's only one bathroom, and unfortunately there's no lock-" you half-closed the door to show him that you weren't lying, "-So, I guess we can have a rule where if the door is closed then don't go in?" you shrugged as you thought out loud, "Or, knock?".

He seemed to understand what you were saying, so you started to head back to the living room, but stopped at your bedroom.

"This is my room-" you reached around the door frame and switched on the light, and realised that you hadn't actually tidied it before his arrival, "-you can come in here if you want, but you probably wont need to," you turned the light off again before he could fully register how messy it was.

Moving back into the living room to grab the blankets and pillows you'd bought for him, "That's everything! I know it's pretty small but it's cosy," you ran your hand nervously over the fluffy brown fabric.

It was complete coincidence, but the blanket you'd bought him was the same shade as his ears and tail.

Extending it out for him to take, you looked up at his face, "I didn't know how or where you'd want to sleep, but the living room is yours," when he took the bedding, you rubbed the back of your neck.

"We can get a different couch if it isn't comfortable, or one of those pull out ones that turn into a bed," you rambled as you mimed what you were describing.

He just stood, holding the bedding, watching you word-vomit to him. He didn't wait for you to stop talking before he started to set up the couch as his bed for the night, and you took that as a sign to stop talking.

It had been a long day filled with new experiences, he was probably very tired.

"I'm going to leave you to it and get ready for bed, there's a toothbrush and stuff for you in the bathroom, use whatever you want," you pulled at the sleeves of your sweater for comfort.

This was the first time you had a guy stay over, granted the situation was vastly different from the usual circumstances someone would think of if you said there was a man staying the night.

But this one was here to stay. It was his home too now, and things were most certainly going to be different from this point on.

"Goodnight, Jayce," you smiled at him softly and gave him space to take everything in. You just hoped he'd be happy here with you.

taglist:

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#lockjaw #jayce talis x reader #hybrid puppy jayce #hybrid jayce x reader #puppy jayce #alpha jayce #a/b/o

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anakinstwinklebunny · 17 days ago

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Could you do reader being super busy on valentines and thinking sweetheart!anakin forgot about it and came home upset just to see the living room decorated with valentines decor and candles then later after they eat the dinner anakin made, they cuddle and watch romcoms and reader tears up from the overwhelming love pretty pleaseeee!!!

PAIRING: sweetheart!anakin x f!reader

ANAKIN SKYWALKER doesn’t get the hype. He never has.

All week, the world has been drowning in Valentine’s Day propaganda—tacky heart-shaped balloons, overpriced bouquets, too sweet themed chocolates, desperate men running around last minute to prove their love.

It’s ridiculous. It’s performative.

If you love someone, you should show them that every day. At least that's how he was raised.

If a man really loved his girl, he should show her every single day, every single hour, every minute, every second.

And he did.

In every little thing.

When he woke up before you and made your morning coffee just the way you liked it. When he pulled you against his chest at night, tucking your head beneath his chin because he couldn’t sleep unless you were close. When he kissed your temple absentmindedly while passing behind you in the kitchen. When he memorized every tiny detail about you—the way your lips parted slightly when you focused, the way you always did a little spin when you were happy, the way you got this certain look when you were about to be stubborn.

So no, he didn’t need Valentine’s Day. But… he knew you secretly loved it.

So, here he is—pacing through the dining room, hands on his hips, eyes flicking over every last detail to make sure everything is just perfect. Because if there’s one thing Anakin Skywalker is going to do, it’s make sure you’re loved. Properly. Every damn day.

You weren’t expecting much this year. Anakin has made it very clear how he feels about Valentine’s Day. And honestly? You agreed with him.

You love how he loves you—every day, in a hundred different ways.

The way he never lets you open your own car door. The way he keeps a hand on your back when you walk through a crowd. The way he rubs your feet without you having to ask, even when he’s tired himself. How he drags most of the grocery bags, not wanting you to have the heaviest. How he knows every single little details of your life, in a good way

So no, you don’t need a big Valentine’s Day thing. You have valentine's every day, if you were being honest

So when you step through the front door and see the house bathed in candlelight—warm, flickering red wax dripping from every available surface—your breath caught in your throat, heart stopping working just for a second, eyes widening to make sure you're not dreaming.

“Ani?” you call softly, stepping inside

And then you smell it.

Rich tomato sauce, garlic, fresh basil—your favorite Italian dish. Your favorite.

You follow the scent to the dining room, and—oh.

He’s standing there, arms crossed, leaning against the table like he didn’t just turn your whole world upside down. Warm glow created by the candlelight caught in his golden curls, in the soft blue of his stupidly beautiful eyes.

“Took you long enough,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing, yet there’s still, always, something soft behind it.

He pushes off the table, moving towards you with that unfair grace of his, like he’s already got you figured out. Like he knows you’re two seconds from melting.

His hands are warm when they slide over your waist, pulling you in close—chests flush, foreheads nearly touching.

“You know how I feel about today,” he murmurs, and you nod, hands curling over his biceps.

“But.” His nose brushes yours. “You love it.”

Your heart did a flip of shy happiness

“And I love you.”

Oh. Oh.

“I love you every damn day,” he says, and then—finally—he kissed you. Slow, deep, deliberate.

Like he's proving his point.

Anakin pulled back with a grin. “C’mon,” he said, intertwining his fingers with yours and leading you towards the dining table. “Made your favorite.”

Your eyes widened. Sure enough, an entire Italian feast was laid out by candlelight—fresh pasta, warm garlic bread, a bottle of your favorite wine already uncorked.

Your chest burned with love. Tears ready to spill out of your eyes

“You did all this?” you whispered.

“Course I did, baby.”

And when he pulled out your chair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before taking his own seat across from you, you realized—

Maybe he did love you a little extra today.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17-deactivated2025 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @nikiloveshayden @cloverina

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goldenhazelnut · 30 days ago

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Birthday Cake || Carlos Sainz

The scent of vanilla and buttercream filled the air as you set the cake down on the table, your heart pounding in anticipation. The soft glow of the candles flickered against the dimly lit room, the only other source of light being the cityscape beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The cake had been a last-minute idea, something playful yet meaningful, and you couldn’t help but wonder how Carlos would react.

Carlos had promised he wouldn’t be late, but you knew how unpredictable his schedule could be. The hours ticked by, and just as you were about to check your phone for the tenth time, the front door creaked open.

“Perdón, cariño,” his deep voice carried through the quiet apartment. “You wouldn’t believe the day I had.”

You turned, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “I’ll forgive you, but only if you make a wish.”

Carlos’s gaze landed on the cake, and his eyebrows shot up as he read the message in bold, frosting-covered letters: Tell Sainz I am legal.

A breath of laughter escaped him, warm and full of amusement. “Are you serious?” he asked, shaking his head. But his expression softened as his eyes met yours, filled with a quiet affection that sent warmth spreading through your chest.

“I thought I’d make your life easier,” you teased. “Now, no one has to ask.”

Carlos’s lips quirked up at the corner, and he let out another soft chuckle. “And why, exactly, don’t you have to explain?”

You shrugged, leaning against the counter with a playful glint in your eyes. “Because the cake says it all.”

Carlos shook his head again, but his hands found your waist, pulling you in. “Eres increíble,” he murmured before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

His warmth enveloped you, and suddenly, the cake didn’t matter as much. All that mattered was the way he held you, the way his lips ghosted over your skin, the way he whispered against your ear, “Happy birthday, mi amor.”

The moment stretched between you, unspoken words lingering in the air. He reached past you, plucking a bit of frosting from the cake with his finger and playfully tapping it against your nose. You gasped, laughing as you swatted his hand away.

“Oh, it’s war now, Sainz.”

His laughter rumbled through him as he dodged your playful attempt to smear frosting on his cheek. “I’d like to see you try, cariño.”

The night was young, and the city outside sparkled, but in that moment, all that existed was the two of you, caught between laughter, love, and a cake that neither of you could take seriously anymore.

It had been a long time coming.

You had met Carlos a year ago, an accidental encounter in the bustling streets of Madrid. You hadn’t recognized him at first, which was something he found endlessly amusing. “You really had no idea who I was?” he had asked, eyes twinkling with intrigue.

“None at all,” you had admitted, biting your lip as you remembered the way he had casually introduced himself as ‘Carlos’ without the slightest hint of expectation.

That had been the start of everything. What began as chance encounters turned into long conversations over coffee, stolen moments between his races, and eventually, something neither of you could ignore. Despite his chaotic schedule, despite the distance that sometimes stretched between you, Carlos had a way of making you feel like you were the center of his world.

And now, as he traced lazy circles on your back with his fingertips, his breath warm against your temple, you couldn’t imagine celebrating your birthday any other way.

“Do you ever think about how different things could’ve been if we hadn’t met that day?” you murmured.

Carlos hummed thoughtfully. “I try not to.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like thinking about a life where I don’t have you in it.”

Your heart clenched at his words, the sincerity in his voice making your throat tighten. “You’re such a sap, Sainz.”

He laughed, pressing a lingering kiss to your hair. “Only for you, cariño.”

hope you like it <3

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h-ngm-nssluttt · 4 months ago

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Deployment Birth

Jake Seresin One Shot

Pov: jake misses the birth of your baby while on deployment but the Dagger Squad makes sure they help you along the way.

The old saying goes ‘When you know you know’ and that was the truth for Jake Seresin. The moment he met Hazel it’s like the stars in his universe aligned as sappy as that sounds, but there was just something about her that made him simply… know.

When Hazel moved to North Island the last thing on her mind was finding someone to be in a relationship with but the universe on that one fateful night at the hard deck when she met up with her childhood friend Natasha Trace had other plans. Hazel wasn’t sure if it was the Southern drawl or the million dollar smile or maybe even the captivatingly gorgeous green eyes that stared deeply into hers like she was the only one in the room even though they were surrounded by the many patrons of the Hard Deck on a Saturday night, but Jake Seresin stole her heart that night whether she realized it right away or not.

The usual cocky, egotistical, womanizer Aviator everyone was used to had changed faster than they could blink. Cocky attitude was replaced with sweet nothings and compliments. Flowers on a random Tuesday just because and coffee runs on his lunch just so he could see you for 10 minutes. Jake Seresin was in love and he was in it deep.

They moved in together after dating for 9 months. She brought warmth and life to Jake's boring beige apartment which he loved. He loved the throw pillows that now adorned his couch, the scented candles that seemed to be in each room. The pictures that now hung on the walls, he loved it all. The engagement followed suit after a year and a half of dating and the wedding wasn’t too far behind. It felt like a whirlwind romance to everyone around them but they just simply knew. They were each other’s person, made for each other by the gods above so why waste anytime when you just simply know.

Hazel was not used to having a partner that actually put in effort. When they say “if he wanted to he would” Jake always wanted to. The smallest of things like doing the dishes, getting her shower ready to just the right temperature that he knew she liked. Having a glass of wine and her book ready for her on the coffee table after a long day of work so she could relax while he sat on the couch with her watching a muted tv with sports recaps on it just to spend time with her. He wanted it all. At first it scared her, but once she realized that Jake wasn’t like her past relationships she was in deep too.

2.5 years in a new journey was about to begin.

She stood in the bathroom staring at the test on the counter. 2 dark pink lines staring right back at her. She wasn’t convinced at first but the 5 tests she took told her otherwise, all showing the same result. She was pregnant. They were going to have a baby. She was growing something half Jake and Half her. She honestly couldn’t believe it. They weren’t actively trying but they decided that if it happened then so be it, and honestly, she couldn’t believe it happened.

The next week was spent going to the doctor’s office just to confirm that she was 100% pregnant (which she was). 5 weeks to be exact. Once she realized it was without a doubt positive she began trying to come up with a creative way to tell Jake.

She stood over the box on the kitchen island making sure it was perfect one more time before gently closing the lid just as she heard the door of Jake's truck close from outside their apartment. Hazel acted like she was busy tidying up the kitchen counter when she heard his boots thud across the hardwood floor as a hand wrapped around her waist from behind and a gentle kiss was placed to the top of her head.

“Hey sweetheart. How was your day?” I smiled as I turned around and faced Jake as I gently wrapped my arms around his neck

“It was good. Busy. How about you?” Jakes smile widened as he looked down at me

“Long and tiring. Was flying from the moment I got on base till it was time to leave”

“Sounds like it’s going to be relaxing on the couch and takeout kind of night?” He smiles as he leans down and places a soft kiss to my lips

“its like you read my mind sweetheart”

I smile as he removes his arm from around my waist and walks across the kitchen. I admire how good he looks in his khaki uniform. He always looks so good. It almost has to be a sin for someone to look that good. He stops at the sight of the box on the kitchen island

“What's this?”

“Just a little something for you” I smile as he looks at me almost confused as he looks back down at the box

“I’m not forgetting something am i?”

“no..go ahead and open it up”

I smile as I watch him look between the box and myself a few more times before slowly grabbing the lid and opening the box as I lean against the kitchen island, my eyes never leaving his face as he looks at the contents of the box. His hands grip the sides of the box as he intently stares at the small pair of aviator sunglasses and a small onesie that says “daddy’s wingman” with a jet underneath it. He quickly looks up at me and back down at the contents of the box multiple times before looking at me.

“are… are you. you’re”

I smile widely as I look at him nodding my head yes as he tries to form a complete sentence. Before I could even get a word out he closes the distance between us as he rounds the corner of the island and cradles my face in his hands as he stares into my eyes and quietly whispers

“we’re having a baby?”

“were having a baby” He leans down and places a soft but passionate kiss to my lips, resting his forehead against mine as he looks into my eyes

“I can’t believe this…. Were… were going to have a baby…”

I smile as I gently place my hands on his shoulders as he moves his hands to my waist as we stand there in the kitchen together. The smile never leaves his face as he slowly kneels down in front of me and rests his forehead against my stomach as he quietly whispers something I can’t fully make out to my stomach. Excitement settling between the two of us as the realization that our greatest adventure together was about to begin in a short 9 months.

They say pregnancy is supposed to be a happy time in a couple’s life… and I suppose that’s true if your husband is not in the military. Nothing can ruin the happiness of a pregnancy like the word ‘deployment’… a 6-month deployment at that. 6 months which happens to be the amount of time that I have left in my pregnancy. 6 months that will be cutting it close to the due date of our baby, if the baby comes on time that is. 6 months of experiencing everything alone. 6 months of sending updates and pictures through letters as often as we can send them. 6 months and the chance that Jake will miss the birth of our baby…

Jake, Payback and Fanboy got the orders a week ago and they leave in 2 days. Those two days were spent barely leaving our bed. Jake's hand never leaves my stomach, caressing the very small baby bump that has formed. Two days of him talking to our baby telling them that they had to wait for him to come home before coming into the world.

“Everyone says that the first baby comes late as long as everything goes well”

I lay there running my fingers through jakes hair as he rests his forehead against my bare stomach running his thumb against the small bump

“I really hope they are right… I can’t miss this.. I just..” he sighs as he places a kiss to my stomach

“I just really need you to wait for daddy to get home… just hang on tight in there for me please”

“We will do our best honey”

The send off was a crying fest. Natasha had to drive me home and ended up spending the night to make sure I was okay. The Dagger squad tried to make this deployment as easy as possible on me as they could. Every Monday Bob came over for dinner. On Tuesdays Bradley and I went grocery shopping together to ensure I didn’t have to lift anything on my own. Wednesdays Natasha and I went to a yoga class. Thursdays Javi came over and mowed the lawn and helped with anything I needed done, and on Friday’s we all went out for dinner and ended the night at the Hard Deck together where I would sit and sip on water while we all went on with our lives. Well they went on with their lives like normal. I felt like I was on autopilot going through the motions each day.

Penny went with me to all of my dr. appointments and has been giving me some parenting advice here and there from when she had Amelia. Everyone made sure I wasn’t alone even though I felt like I was a majority of the time. I made sure to take video’s of our appointments so he can see them when he returns home. The sound of the baby’s heartbeat, the black and white screen showing our little baby moving around.

Every Monday I wrote Jake a new letter with a picture to show how much my belly was growing. With each letter I felt like my heart broke more and more. Each letter included something new about my pregnancy, like how I went to the appointment to find out the gender but refused to know what the baby was until Jake was home. Another one was about how I felt that baby kick for the first time. Another was how hard it was starting to get comfortable because my stomach was so big I could only fit in Jake's shirts anymore and waddle around like a penguin.

Another letter was simply just a list of names for either gender that we liked, eventually deciding on a name for either or that we felt would fit perfectly for our baby.

Each letter was met with a response about how he wishes he was there to experience everything with me. How guilty he feels that he is missing everything and the dreaded line of ‘I still don’t have an exact date as to when I will be home’ that one gets me every time and usually brings me to tears as it feels like the closer and closer I get to our due date that the reality of me having to do this alone is become more and more real as each day passes. And being 4 weeks away from our due date really made that fear a reality.

Each day this week I texted everyone the same excuse ‘you won’t need to come over today. I’m not feeling well. Super tired’. In reality I laid in our bed snuggled into one of jakes sweatshirts clutching onto his pillow as I laid their and slept and cried all week long. Friday night rolled around and I was laying in bed watching some crappy reality show when I heard footsteps and saw Bob, Natasha, Bradley and Javi standing in my hallway. Natasha walked into the room and knelt down by the side of my bed as I looked at her with my tired and red rimmed eyes

“We pieced it all together when we got to dinner tonight. You aren’t sick”

“I mean I am sick.. I’m sick of this deployment…” and that’s all it took before the tears started flowing again as Natasha tried to console me.

“I’m so scared… Each day passes and it becomes more and more real that…. That he’s not going to be here… I’m going to be doing this alone… I can’t do this alone.. I .. he … I can’t”

After crying for a solid hour, I fell asleep as Natasha sat on the bed with me trying to calm me down. Bob, Bradly and Javi cleaned up the apartment and went to the store to ensure I had enough food in the apartment for next 2 weeks and picked up dinner from my favorite Chinese place to try and cheer me up.

We spent the rest of Friday night all crowded in Jake and I’s bedroom. Natasha and Bradley crammed onto the bed with me while Javi and Bob settled onto the floor by the bed. If it wasn’t for this group of friends right here I honestly don’t think I would have made it through this.

The week of the baby’s due date approached fast and Natasha refused to let me be alone. She took up residency on the couch in case I needed anything or god forbid the baby decided to come. This week felt agonizingly slow. Like my body knew it needed to hold on but unfortunately it had other plans. 3 days before our due date I was standing in the kitchen making myself breakfast when I felt it… my water broke. I stood there with wide eyes and I stared at Natasha who was sitting at the kitchen island. It didn’t take long for the tears to cascade down my cheeks as I realized this was it… I silently cursed my body for not holding on longer to even give the slightest chance that Jake could have made it home in time.

72 hours of intense labor later and the Dagger squad crammed into a tiny hospital room, Sonny Amelia Seresin made her appearance and my god did she look just like her daddy, green eyes and all. After a brief hospital stay we made it home and two weeks later we got the call that Jake would be coming home.

The Dagger squad and I made our way to the dock to welcome Jake, Reuben and Jay home. Sonny was curled up against my chest as I stood there frantically searching through the sea of people just trying to catch a glimpse of that familiar head of sandy blonde hair and green eyes. Natasha placed her hand on my shoulder and pointed and as soon as I followed the direction her finger was pointing I saw him. The instant our eyes met it felt like the first night we met all over again. It was like we were the only two there even though there were hundreds of people there. His eyes drifted to the tiny bundle curled up against my chest and I could see the tears from here. It’s like the world was moving in slow motion as he made his way to us. The second he made it to us one hand was placed on my waist the other on my cheek as he leaned down and placed a kiss on my lips as his tears fell on to my cheeks. I love you whispered between the two of us before he pulled back and gently removed his hand from my cheek and gently ran a finger over his daughters’ tiny cheek and ran his hand gently over her tiny tuft of sandy blonde hair on her head. The second she was in his arms he placed a small kiss to her forehead as she snuggled into his chest and greeted his daughter for the first time with tears in his eyes.

“Hi my Sonny girl… Daddy loves you so so much”

Those words were the beginning of our new adventure together. A deployment may have gotten in the way but everything fell right back into place the second our eyes met when he got off that carrier. The stars in our universe aligned again and you could tell Jake Seresin was in love and he was in it deep with the way he looked down at his baby girl.

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader

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fanfoolishness · 3 months ago

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Spices

“What is this?” Lucanis asked, sniffing curiously at the sachet Rook had just given him.

“Nevarran spices,” she said with a bright smile.

“For cooking?” he asked. They did smell pleasant, rich and warm. He thought he detected fennel, clove, anise. Nutmeg! Spite supplied in the back of his mind.

Her smile faded slightly, and she looked almost sheepish. “For… your coffee. It’s how we serve it in Nevarra. I thought you might like to try something a little different?” She fidgeted, rubbing the back of her neck. “I can’t drink it black like you do, but I did like trying the cioccalata calda. I thought I could return the favor and have you try a cup our way.” She hesitated. “Though I won’t be offended if it’s sacrilegious to add something different to your coffee.”

He blinked slowly at her. Why was she acting anxious? “I have heard of Nevarran spiced coffee. I admit, it does sound intriguing.” He rubbed the sachet between his fingers, breathing in the faint scent of spices.

She brought this for me?

First the wyvern-tooth dagger, well-weighted, finely sharpened, a true prize. Then extra candles, enchanted to make them more difficult for Spite to blow out. Now spices from her homeland for his coffee.

And she seemed oddly nervous —

He swallowed, suddenly just as nervous.

Oh.

What. Does it. Mean? Spite asked urgently, and Lucanis could sense his confusion, his interest, his curiosity. No, the last thing he needed was for Spite to join this conversation!

This isn’t about you, Spite!

Lucanis realized he was taking far too long. He smiled, if crookedly, and shook Spite’s question away. Rook looked relieved.

“So it’s not a crime against coffee?” she asked, grinning back at him.

“Of course not,” he said. “I am looking forward to trying it. Thank you, Rook.”

“Right,” she said. “Well, then, er — let me know how it goes. I’ll be off.”

His mouth went dry. He should ask her to share a cup. Sit beside the fire a while. Perhaps confirm what was really happening — that she, Rook, appeared interested in him — that maybe he felt the same —

But the door closed behind her, and Lucanis blinked in the empty kitchen, the smell of spices rich on the air.

#datv #rookanis #rook x Lucanis #Lucanis x rook #ingellvar x Lucanis #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age spoilers #lucanis dellamorte #datv lucanis #Lucanis is very bad at flirting #rook is not much better #they will be a fine mess together #datv spoilers #my datv fic #liesl ingellvar

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washoping · 2 months ago

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Christmas reminds me

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Emily Prentiss x reader

summary: As the holiday cheer clashes with the turmoil of your past mental health struggles, particularly your eating disorder, Emily’s presence becomes the support you need the most.

tags: emotional hurt/comfort, mental health issues, eating disorder, christmas

2.5k words │ ao3

a/n: the holidays can be tough for some of us - so i wanted to offer this quick oneshot, filled with emily’s comfort, as a hug from me to you during this time. you’re not alone <3

english isn’t my first language, typos and mistakes are all mine.

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Snow drifted lazily outside the window, each flake dancing as it fell while you were sitting curled up on the sofa with a blanket draped over your shoulders like an armor against the cold world outside. The soft hum of instrumental Christmas music played faintly in the background, mixing with the soothing crackling coming from the fireplace you had lit up a while ago. The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree reflected off the silver ornaments. All of the decorating you had done earlier should’ve made you feel warm, safe even. But there was a weight in your chest. It was uninvited but unfortunately familiar to you - you dreaded it every December.

The holidays had been a double-edged sword for you as long as you could remember. There was joy and there was laughter, sure. But for you, there was also an immense amount of pressure and anxiety. Pressure to join in the dinners with your family, to take part in traditions that all revolved around food, to pretend that you were okay when in fact you weren’t. At all.

The voice in the back of your mind was loud today, so cruel in its persistence. It clawed at your insecurities and brought back painful memories from the past family gatherings where you had felt judged, scrutinized and never enough for anyone. The voice had told you lies about how everyone noticed every bite you took, how every calorie would show and somehow expose your failures. You remembered the whispers that your mind had made up to be comments about the amount of food you were eating or not eating. Sideway glances from family. People perceiving you. You hated it.

The living room started to feel smaller and the lights dimmer as your thoughts pulled you inward, deeper into the suffocating ache of self-doubt.

The ache had been there since the moment you woke up, but despite it, you had managed to decorate the apartment. You knew your girlfriend, Emily, was working late for the last day before her holiday break and for a fleeting moment you had felt a desire to make the space festive for her. It was the least you could do after Emily had so kindly promised to spend the holidays with you. Just the two of you, so you wouldn’t have to go to family gatherings. You were grateful.

The Christmas tree stood tall in the corner, decorated with silver ornaments you and Emily had collected over the time you had been dating. You had hung up tiny fairy lights and stockings and even placed a few scented candles on the coffee table. Vanilla and cinnamon, Emily’s favorites, you had learned. The effort had been both a distraction for your own sake and also a way to show Emily just how much she meant to you.

The sound of the front door opening, and closing just as quickly, snapped you back into the present moment. Emily’s voice echoed from the hallway, light and cheerful. You knew she was relieved to have some days off from work.

”Sweetieee!” You heard the familiar warm voice and couldn’t help but smile.

A moment later Emily appeared in the doorway, carrying two mugs of steaming hot chocolate from your favorite café down the street - you recognized the logo in the takeout mugs instantly. Emily’s dark brown eyes swept over the room, taking in the decorations. She froze in spot, her expression shifting from tired but happy to radiant in an instant. She smiled to brightly. ”You did all this today?”

You nodded, suddenly a bit self-conscious. ”I… thought it might be nice.”

”Nice?” your girlfriend asked and set the mugs on the coffee table. She took her winter coat off and then crossed the room in a few strides, sitting down on the sofa and wrapping you in a tight hug. You couldn’t help but smile when you felt her arms around your body. ”It’s absolutely perfect. You’re amazing, you know that?”

She looked into your eyes and pressed a quick kiss on your lips before she turned to admire the decorations again.

Emily’s excitement was infectious and for a moment the weight in your chest lifted. It made breathing a bit easier. But as Emily settled properly on the sofa next to you and cradled one of the mugs in her hands, her gaze sharpened. Her smile softened when she tilted her head, looking at you.

”What’s going on, baby? You seem… quiet”, she then asked softly.

You forced a small smile on your face, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

”Just a bit tired, I guess”, you tried but it wasn’t convincing at all.

Emily placed the mug back on the table and shifted closer, her hand finding yours. Her touch was warm and grounding. You looked down at how her thumb started slowly caressing the top of your palm.

”Honey, I know how difficult the holidays can be for you”, she said, her voice low and steady. Each word was so carefully chosen and wrapped in love. ”I just want you to know that I’m here for you, okay? Every step of the way. You don’t have to pretend with me. You don’t have to carry all this on your own. You’re not alone.”

Couple tears came streaming down your cheek before you could do anything to stop them. Before you knew it tears blurred your vision, making the room’s soft lights smear like watercolor. Emily didn’t say anything else, she just wrapped her arms around you and pulled you against her chest.

The fabric of her sweater was soft against your cheek. She smelled like vanilla, a scent so distinctly Emily that it felt like home. You closed your eyes and listened to the rhythm of her heartbeat against your ear. It was the most comforting sound you’d heard all day - steady and strong, grounding you. You let yourself sink into Emily’s embrace and somehow she made all the tension you had carried inside your body all day unravel under her touch.

”It’s not easy”, you eventually whispered, your voice muffled against her sweater. ”I hate that it’s so hard. It’s like… like every bite feels like a damn battle. It’s so exhausting.”

Emily pulled back just enough to be able to cup your face in her hands. Her thumbs brushed away the tears on your cheeks softly. Her chocolate eyes, filled with unwavering determination to show you how she was there for you, searched for yours.

”I know it’s hard, baby. And it’s totally okay to feel that way. All your feelings are valid. But I see you, I see every part of you and I love you for all of it. The good days, and the not so good ones. You are enough just as you are, my love.”

You tried to look away, ashamed.

”It doesn’t feel like it’s enough. I always feel like I’m failing. Every time I try to eat, there’s this… this voice inside my head, telling me that I’m doing it wrong. Too little or too much. That I can’t even eat right. That I’m weak. And it’s so fucking loud, Emily. I can’t shut it off, especially this time of the year when everything revolves around food. I’m so tired.”

Emily’s hands tightened their grip around yours, grounding you further.

”Sweetheart, you’re not failing. You’re fighting. And that voice? It’s lying to you, big time. You’re so much stronger than it wants you to believe. It’s going to take time, but you’re not alone in this. I’ll be here to remind you of that whenever you need it. I’m not leaving”, Emily told you in a comforting voice.

You couldn’t help but think back to the night you had first told her about your problems with food. How controlling what you put in your mouth had been your way of dealing with stuff you couldn’t control in your life for the longest time. Emily’s face had softened, her eyes filling with tears she refused to shed. She hadn’t said much at first. She had just listened to you and then held you as if letting go would shatter you somehow. Later, she had told you she’d do everything in her power to make sure you never felt alone in this again. The promise had become her mantra, spoken to you softly in moments like these, when things were too heavy for you to carry.

”I just feel so broken sometimes”, you admitted with a trembling voice. ”Like… why can’t I just be normal? Why does food have to be this… this thing?”

Emily’s hands squeezed yours, her grip firm but still gentle. It anchored you to her presence and you were able to stay here, and not slip away.

”You’re not broken, my love. You’re human. And this ’thing’, as you call it, doesn’t define you one bit. You’re so much stronger than that. We’ll take it one day at a time. One meal at a time, together. And you don’t have to do any of it alone. If it feels too much, we’ll stop. That’s why I told you we could spend this Christmas together, just you and me. You don’t have to be perfect with me, you just have to be you. Because I love you, for you.”

”I just… I don’t want to ruin everything because of stupid food”, you confessed, your voice breaking now. ”Sometimes it feels easier to just not show up, not eat, not let people see me struggling.”

Emily’s gaze softened, her thumb continuing to stroke gentle patterns over your knuckles again.

”You’re not ruining anything, I promise you. It’s okay to struggle. It’s okay to have hard days. In fact, it would be weird if you felt completely okay about the holiday season. I would be worried. What matters the most is that you let me know. And that you’re trying. I can see you’re trying so hard every day. I see how hard you’re fighting, even if you don’t feel it”, she said. You let out a shaky breath you didn’t notice you had been holding.

”But what if I mess up? What if I can’t do it?”

Damn self-doubt.

Emily leaned in, her forehead now resting gently against yours. You looked into her beautiful eyes full of kindness. One of your favorite things about her.

”Then we’ll pick up the pieces together. There’s no such thing as messing up when you’re healing and recovering. Every step, no matter how small, is still a step forward. And when it feels like it’s too much, I’ll be right here. Always.”

You hated that they did, but something in Emily’s words cracked your shell and made you sob harder. Emily held you tighter, her hand cradling the back of your head in a comforting manner.

”Let it out, love. Shh… I’ve got you. I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere”, she whispered against your hair. Her fingers stroked it, each pass a quiet reassurance that everything was going to be okay. Her short nails scraped your scalp lightly. ”We’ll take it one moment at a time and if it gets too much, we’ll take a break. We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

You nodded against Emily, grateful beyond words so you didn’t even try to explain. Emily had a way of making you feel so seen, not in the scrutinizing and suffocating way that your family did, but in a way that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds. In a way no one else had ever seen you before. Emily didn’t demand anything, didn’t blame, didn’t try to fix you. She just… stayed. Supported. Loved you.

When your tears had dried Emily got up.

”Please, don’t lea-”, you managed to mumble, worried of where Emily was going. You just wanted to be in her arms right now.

”I’ll be back in just a second”, she said quickly and flashed you a bright smile.

She disappeared into the bedroom and when she returned she was holding a small neatly wrapped red box in her hands. The paper was patterned with tiny white snowflakes and there was a beautiful silver ribbon curled perfectly on top of the box. The light from the tree caught on the foil, making it shimmer.

Emily sat down next to you again. Her knee brushed against yours as she placed the box in your lap.

”For you”, she whispered sweetly and smiled. Her voice was gentle in a shy way, as if she was unsure of how you’d react. You hesitated, your fingers brushing over the edges of the paper. The texture was smooth underneath your fingertips.

”Em, you really didn’t have to.”

”I know, but I wanted to”, Emily said determinedly. ”You mean everything to me. Please, open it.”

You peeled back the paper carefully, as if unwrapping something fragile. Your hands trembled a bit. The folds gave a way to reveal a small wooden box. It was carved full of your favorite flowers, each petal and leaf so detailed you couldn’t help but admire them. You lifted the lid and inside was a stack of cards. You recognized Emily’s handwriting in them. Your heart got caught in your throat as you picked up the top card and read it.

You are more than enough.

You picked up another one. You deserve love and kindness, especially from yourself.

Card after card each message was a quiet affirmation, a reminder of your worth and strength. Some were simple, like Take a deep breath, while others felt like whispered secrets from deep inside Emily’s heart. Support for stuff only she knew you had been through.

By the time you had gone through a handful of them your vision was blurred with tears again, but this time they carried a different weight. Gratitude, not sadness.

Emily’s hand rested on your knee. When she saw the tears filling your eyes, she squeezed.

”Whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed, you can pick up one. Or ten. Whatever helps. I’ll add more as we go. Every word on those cards is true and I’ll remind you every day if I have to”, she said and leaned against your shoulder.

You couldn’t find the words to express how much the gift meant to you, so you just turned into her direction and pressed your lips on hers. Emily sighed, smiling into the kiss. You clutched the box in your hands like a lifeline. Emily’s arms came around you again, pulling you closer to her and deepening the kiss at the same time.

”Thank you”, you whispered when your lips parted a little.

Emily pressed another kiss, a tender one, on your temple. Then on your forehead. Her lips lingered there for a moment before she cupped your face with her hands.

”Always, my love. Always.”

She kissed you again.

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #mine: writing

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