#i moved him into the sun for now to warm up

[andypantsx3]

BY THE BOOK : MIDORIYA IZUKU X READER

SUMMARY: When your pro hero boyfriend comes home to find you studying, he suddenly takes a great interest in helping out. You find his methods... questionable. TAGS/WARNINGS: nsft, hysterical literature (reading out loud while sexually stimulated), pro hero deku, deku still has ofa, support tech grad student reader, slight intelligence kink, gn + afab reader, cunnilingus, established relationship, aged up characters, fluff (3k) NOTES: Hi guys! I have been in survival mode as of late and the writing has been slow going; my sincerest apologies for how long it’s taking me to burn down my @ficsforgaza backlog. But I finally had the time & energy on my hands this weekend to work on this one and I had such a blast!! I hope I’m not too rusty—and if I am, I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it regardless lol. Love you and thank you always for your patience. Happy Holidays!!

Sometimes, you thought you could tell your boyfriend was near, even before you heard his key in the lock.

It was something to do with his power, you’d always suspected—as a support engineer unduly interested in other people’s capabilities, you’d spent hundreds of hours turning it over in your head. It was the unnatural immensity of other people’s powers, you thought, pulling and coiling just beneath the surface of Izuku’s skin. In close proximity, after prolonged use, its presence felt like a shiver up the back of your neck.

You felt the barest hint of it now, an unsettled feeling creeping into the marrow of your bones, and you sat up on the couch just as you heard the scratch of Izuku’s keys at the door.

One For All fit cleanly into Izuku’s own unwavering intensity somehow, like the last piece of his puzzle. Though one would certainly never think so looking at him as he spilled through the door, pink-cheeked from the cold, all bright eyes, sweetly angelic features, and a riot of wild green curls. He looked windswept from the biting winter breeze. He also looked too kind to be carrying the sort of power he did—too sweet and eager and lovely.

“Look what the wind blew in,” you grinned at him over the back of the couch, after assessing he was well. Your eyes tracked the sinuous movement of those broad shoulders as he yanked his mouthguard over his head, the flex and pull of his bicep as he hung it beside the door. He was moving without pause, no sign of injury or muscle strain , and his suit was intact. Ordinarily you didn’t mind if there was a bit of shredding about the abs as long as he came back to you whole and hale, but in the winter you didn’t like him wandering about risking the chance of frostbite.

Your heart fluttered when Izuku returned your smile with one of his own, so beautiful and bright, chasing away the cold he’d tracked in like a warm sliver of sun.

“Lots of small, easy fights today?” You guessed, judging from his intact suit but clear whiff of power about him.

Izuku scrubbed a hand through that riot of curls, exposing the reddened shell of a cold ear. “I only had to use blackwhip a couple of times,” he said as he shouldered the door closed behind him, the muscle of his thighs flexing enticingly as he stepped out of his boots.

You gestured at the pot of soup you’d left warming on the stove, and the veritable pile of crusty bread beside it. Warmth and carbs, exactly what you would have wanted if you were a pro hero fresh off a long day of patrolling in the snow.

Izuku’s eyes fixed on it with an obliging amount of interest, and he almost tripped over himself in the genkan in his haste to get to the kitchen. “I love you,” you heard him say, muffled through a mouthful of bread, heard the clatter of the silverware drawer and a bowl being placed on the counter.

You smiled and turned back to the book in your lap, a particularly dry, knotty text on robotic imitation learning that had had your eyes drifting closed for the better part of an hour. It was the last you’d need to get through for your Wearable Technologies graduate course, and something you were deeply interested in incorporating into your design practice. You could train a piece of equipment on how an individual pro hero moved and deployed their quirk, and use predictive modeling to deploy assistance functionalities within milliseconds if you got it right—such as immediate cooling in pro hero Shouto’s temperature vest the moment he ignited an arm.

The implementation was going to be so cool—but the theory was so mind numbing.

You felt the couch sink in beside your feet, and Izuku peered interestedly at the title in your lap.

“Introduction to Robotic Imitation Learning,” he echoed, and you could hear the note of excitement in his voice. You suppressed a fond smile, knowing he was already thinking through the same applications you had—he was just as much of a nerd as you were.

“Introduction to Snoozing and Napping,” you grumbled, turning back to your page. “There are only so many words on the Kalman filter framework a brain can handle before the human mind shuts itself down.”

Izuku hummed in interest around a spoonful of soup, propping himself up against your leg. The exterior of his suit was still cool from the outside, and he groaned with relief from the warmth of your skin, even as you hissed at the chill.

You knew he wanted you to go on, so you generalized for him. “It’s an algorithm used for robotic motion planning—you not only take measurements of the thing you want to model but you account for uncertainties to predict the probability that something is going to happen.”

Izuku nodded, taking another spoonful of soup, gesturing for you to go on.

You summoned up the willpower to explain joint probability distribution, pleased when Izuku easily managed to follow—he’d always been a quick study, especially of anything that could be employed in the service of heroics. You’d long thought if he hadn’t been gifted his quirk, he would be an insane support engineer.

He managed to finish his entire bowl of soup in the time it took you to explain, and housed another two slices of buttered bread with the sort of alacrity you’d only ever seen in pro heroes and professional athletes, making you smile while you spoke.

His spoon clinked softly against the edge of the bowl as he set them aside on the coffee table, and he hooked his chin over your knees as you finished explaining. In the setting sun from your windows he looked especially lovely, the kind, angular planes of his face brushed in gold, softening the spots of his freckles.

His eyes were especially bright, the way they always were when something in particular had caught his interest, and he smiled at you again over the tops of your knee caps.

“I admire how smart you are,” he told you, in the simple, straightforward way he always gave out compliments. It was like a shot to the heart every time, and you could feel your face warm with the praise even after years of receiving similar compliments.

You reflexively flapped a dismissive hand. “Not smart enough to have internalized it all! I have mostly been falling asleep to it,” you promised him.

He tilted his head, a green curl falling into his eyes. “I know you won’t have a problem when you’re awake.”

You shifted your legs with embarrassment, and a long fingered hand came up to cup the front of your thigh, as Izuku turned more fully towards you. You could feel the warm, hard planes of his chest against your shins, the line of his jumpsuit’s zipper pressing insistently just below your knee.

“Gotta try to impress you somehow,” you joked, your skin prickling as Izuku’s fingers absent-mindedly drew a pattern across your thigh. You could feel the heat of his hand through the thin material of the leggings you’d lounged around in all day, the chill finally chased away from his skin now that he’d come inside and warmed up.

“You do impress me,” he said in his soft, gentle tone. Which made your cheeks and nose burn hotter.

You knew you did, and the steady faith Izuku had in the people around him was one of your favorite things about him. It still made you feel like a middle schooler with a crush to think about, though, the intensity of your feelings too much for one body to handle.

“I will study hard to live up to your faith in me,” you promised, unable to help the goofy smile you knew you were giving him.

Izuku’s chin shifted against the tops of your knees, and he pressed his mouth to the knob of your left one, leaving a smiling kiss. “Tell me more?” he asked, fingers still sliding softly over your thigh.

“I’ll read it to you as I go, then,” you said, turning back to the brick of a tome, propping it up more firmly on your stomach as you adjusted yourself against the couch arm. Izuku’s eyes watched you over the top of the pages, that emerald gaze tracking your face closely.

“‘The algorithm works via a two-phase process: a prediction phase and an update phase’,” you began, trying to turn your attention away from Izuku and back to the text. “‘In the prediction phase, the Kalman filter produces estimates of the current state variables, including their uncertainties. Once the outcome of the next measurement (necessarily corrupted with some error, including random noise) is observed, these estimates are updated using a weighted average, with more weight given to estimates with greater certainty.’��

Izuku’s long fingers traced firmer lines across your thighs, almost like he was taking notes. He layered another kiss along the line of your knee, eyes glittering at you as you read.

“‘The algorithm is recursive,’” you continued, “‘It can operate in real time, using only the present input measurements and the state calculated previously and its uncertainty matrix; no additional past information is required.’”

You almost jumped as Izuku’s mouth trailed lower, into the space between your knees, leaving kisses along your inner thigh. His fingers gently pulled one thigh away to make space for him in between, and you cleared your throat, trying to return to the text at hand.

“‘Optimality of Kalman filtering assumes that errors have a normal–that is, Gaussian–distribution,’” you read on. “‘The following assumptions are made about random processes: Physical random phenomena may be thought of as due to primary random sources exciting dynamic systems. The primary sources are assumed to be independent gaussian random processes with zero mean; the dynamic systems will be linear.’”

Izuku let out a soft breath, insinuating himself further between your thighs. Your own breath came out a little uneven as he bent over you, mouth tracking dangerously towards the inseam of your leggings.

You paused, but Izuku fixed you with a look of his slightly-darkened eyes. “Please—keep reading,” he said, his tone a little lower than it had been a minute ago.

You swallowed in shocked understanding, skin tingling. You felt yourself nod, as Izuku’s fingers strayed to the waist of your pants, dipping below the band.

You let him slowly peel your leggings down, your underwear with them, adjusting as needed to make it easy for him, even as you tried to return your attention to your textbook.

“‘Regardless of Gaussianity, however, if the process and measurement covariances are known, then the Kalman filter is the best possible linear estimator in the minimum mean-square-error sense,’” you quoted, nearly squeaking when Izuku pressed his mouth to your hip, his curls tickling the skin of your belly. His hands gripped either side of your thighs, palms square and rough against your skin, and you tried not to shiver with the feeling.

“Um—‘Although there may be better nonlinear estimators’,” you said, then nearly jumped out of your skin when Izuku pressed his mouth to the core of you, only the strength of his grip stopping you from accidentally kicking him in surprise.

“Oh my g—uh! It—um—‘It is a common misconception perpetuated in the literature that the Kalman filter cannot be rigorously applied unless all noise processes are assumed to be Gaussian,’” you managed, before your cut off into a groan as Izuku layered a hot, sweet kiss over you, tongue dipping carefully between your folds. “Ah-–Izuku—”

Izuku petted a thumb gently over the top of your thigh to show he was listening, even as he swiped his tongue over you again, a long, firm stroke that had your thighs flexing in his hold. He laved over your clit, sucking ever so slightly, and your grip almost tore the edge of your textbooks as it tightened.

“Keep going,” he urged briefly, then did it again, punching a groan out of you.

“Extensions—oh—‘Extensions and generalizations of the method have also been developed, such as the extended Kalman filter and the unscented Kalman filter which work on nonlinear systems,’” you read on, voice shooting up nearly into a squeal when two of Izuku’s long, firm fingers pressed into you, as his mouth moved over you again.

“Ah! Oh my god—the—um, the basis—-” you said, breath growing short. Izuku’s fingers unerringly found the spot inside you that made you twist in his grip with the ease of long practice, and his jaw worked as he kissed you so shockingly filthily. You could feel something already starting to build up behind your navel, a fluttery lightness, an insatiable insistence on more.

“‘The basis a hidden Markov model—oh, fuck—such that the state space of the latent variables is continuous and all latent and observed variables have–ah!--Gaussian distributions,’’’ you recited, your voice tripping up further into a register that sounded more like begging than reading.

Izuku’s fingers worked you, long and thick and perfect inside you, as his tongue drew unrelenting circles around your clit. Stars seemed to spark in your vision, and your eyes squeezed shut, losing your place on the page as your hips flexed into his face. You felt suddenly very floaty and lightheaded, and not at all in a position to keep going.

Still, you tried to refocus your attention.

“‘K–Kalman filtering has been used successfully in—oh—multi-sensor fusion—ah, ah!--and distributed sensor networks–fuck, please, Izuku—to develop distributed or consensus Kalman f-filtering,’” you said, your tone nearly a cry.

Izuku groaned softly, sucking gently as his fingers curled inside you. It made your veins spark under your skin, your legs shaking in Izuku’s hands. You abandoned your grip on your book to seize the arm of the couch, clawing desperately at the fabric.

“Please, Izuku,” you cried, hips bucking towards his mouth.

The book tumbled off your stomach but you hardly noticed, gaze refocusing on the way his eyelashes fluttered as he licked you. His fingers played gently within you, a maddening press that was simultaneously too much and not enough, and his other hand came up to slide under your sweater, plucking gently at your nipple.

You lost yourself to the feeling—caught between the mind-melting curl of his fingers, the delicate suction of his mouth, and the careful pinch of your nipple. A delicious heat curled through you, waves of unbearable pleasure, and you could hear yourself babbling nonsense—garbled syllables of Izuku’s name, and every entreaty you could think of, a hundred thousands mores and oh pleases.

Izuku abandoned your nipple to pull you more firmly against him with a strong arm curled under your thigh, pressing you even harder into his mouth.

You muffled a scream in the sleeve of your sweater as he sucked you harder, tongue laving over you in loving strokes. Only his terrible strength held you down as you writhed beneath him, and then his fingers twisted in a way that had your vision whiting out—and you were suddenly thrown out over the edge of your pleasure.

Izuku licked you through it as you squirmed and begged and cried out his name, your climax seeming to last for eons.

You were panting hard when you finally slumped into the cushions of your couch, the ceiling seeming to swim in and out of focus before your eyes. When you gained enough control of your body again you looked down at Izuku, finding him watching you with a satisfied, almost shy curl to his mouth.

“You’re beautiful,” he told you, emerald gaze glittering with sincerity. “You’re so smart.”

Impossibly you felt your heart swell with even more love for him, and you seized his shoulder, dragging him up over you so you could kiss his mouth. The taste of yourself on him was embarrassing yet thrilling, and you petted a pleased hand through Izuku’s wild mess of curls as you kissed him.

“Well you are amazing,” you told him, swiping a thumb over his cheek fondly, smoothing over his freckles. A gorgeous watercolor of pink washed over his cheeks and nose at the proclamation, and you could hear his fingers flex in the cushion beside your head.

The sight of him flushed and waiting over you like another small something inside of you, like a pilot light, and you let your mouth pull into a wry grin.

“I hope you know I learned nothing though,” you said casually, your plan for your next steps already forming in your head. You let a hand trail carefully down Izuku’s flank, tracking towards his waist. “I think maybe I might need a few rounds for it to really sink in.”

Izuku’s ears went red against the green of his hair, and you felt your smile widen. “Maybe you could read it to me this time?” you asked, guiding him to roll under you, retrieving your book from the floor as you did so.

You settled yourself on the tops of Izuku’s thighs, feeling the hard press of him against your core, as you placed your textbook into his waiting hands.

Izuku’s answering smile was all the permission you needed. You directed him to start from the beginning of the chapter, and he did so in that soft, lilting tone of his you so loved. And then your fingers trailed up to the zipper at his collar.

It was time to return the favor—wholeheartedly.

REFERENCES: Kalman Filtering (Wikipedia) I took the passages our Reader recited from here because I do not actually understand Kalman filtering at all and could not organically come up with feasible text for her to read through. Sorry in advance to the author of this page lol.

[wandering-winchesters]

First Moments: Kiss

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Summary: The first time Dean Winchester kisses you Word count: 861 A/N: I am debating on making this a series, covering different "Firsts" with Dean.. Any interest in that? Let me know!

The first time Dean Winchester kisses you, it happens in the least romantic place imaginable—an old gas station parking lot on the outskirts of nowhere. The sun is setting, casting an amber glow over the cracked asphalt and the Impala parked nearby, her paint gleaming like polished obsidian. The faint smell of gasoline mingles with the crisp scent of impending rain, a storm brewing in the distance.

It wasn’t planned. Nothing about Dean ever feels planned, really. He’s a mess of contradictions—cocky and self-assured one minute, guarded and vulnerable the next. You’ve been riding shotgun with him for weeks now, chasing down leads, salt-and-burning restless spirits, and fighting things most people wouldn’t dare to believe existed. Somewhere along the way, you became more than just hunting partners. You don’t know what to call it yet, but there’s a connection between you, an unspoken pull that you’ve both been too stubborn—or scared—to acknowledge.

Until now.

It starts with an argument. Of course it does. Dean has this way of pushing your buttons, and tonight he’s doing it with the precision of a master.

“You can’t just run in there without a plan!” you snap, your arms crossed over your chest.

“And what was your plan, huh?” he shoots back, his voice rising. “To stand around and wait until the ghost decides to play nice? That’s not how this works.”

“It’s called strategy, Dean. Maybe you should try it sometime instead of going full kamikaze every damn hunt!”

He scoffs, dragging a hand down his face in frustration. “You know what your problem is? You think too much. Sometimes you just gotta act.”

“And you think too little!” you retort, your eyes narrowing. “One of these days, your impulsiveness is going to get you killed.”

The words hang in the air, sharper than you intended, and for a moment, Dean just stares at you. His jaw tightens, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—hurt, maybe, or regret—but it’s gone before you can be sure.

“Fine,” he says, his voice quieter now. “If you’ve got it all figured out, why the hell do you even need me?”

It’s not the first time you’ve fought, but there’s something different about this one. The air between you feels charged, like the storm rolling in above. You don’t answer right away, and Dean takes a step closer, his boots crunching against the gravel.

“Why, huh?” he presses, his tone softer but no less intense. “Why do you keep sticking around if I’m such a screw-up?”

Your heart pounds against your ribs, a wild, erratic rhythm that matches the storm clouds overhead. You open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. Because it’s not that simple. Because you don’t stick around in spite of his flaws—you stick around because of them. Because Dean Winchester, for all his faults, is the kind of person who will throw himself in harm’s way without a second thought to save someone else. Because he’s loyal to a fault, fiercely protective, and has a smile that could light up the darkest corners of the world, even when he doesn’t believe it himself.

“Dean…” you start, but his name barely makes it past your lips before he moves.

It’s not hesitant or tentative—it’s sudden, like he’s been holding himself back for too long and finally snapped. His hands cup your face, rough and calloused but somehow gentle, and then his lips are on yours.

The kiss is everything you didn’t know you needed. It’s not perfect—Dean’s lips are a little chapped, and the angle is slightly awkward at first—but it’s real. There’s an urgency to it, a raw, unfiltered emotion that leaves you breathless. His hands are warm against your skin, grounding you even as the world seems to tilt on its axis.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly your hands are fisting in his jacket, pulling him closer as if the space between you is unbearable. He responds in kind, deepening the kiss with a low, almost involuntary sound that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s like the dam you’ve both been holding back has finally burst, and there’s no going back now.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing hard, your foreheads pressed together. The storm is closer now, the first drops of rain starting to fall, but neither of you seems to notice.

“Wow,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dean chuckles, a low, self-deprecating sound. “Yeah, uh… sorry about that. I probably should’ve—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, your fingers still gripping his jacket. “Don’t apologize.”

His eyes meet yours, and for once, there’s no wall, no mask, no bravado. Just Dean.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admits, his voice soft and almost vulnerable.

You smile, your heart swelling in your chest. “Took you long enough.”

He laughs, the sound warm and genuine, and the tension between you finally seems to ease. The rain starts to pick up, but neither of you moves. For once, the hunt can wait. For once, the only thing that matters is this moment—messy, imperfect, and absolutely perfect all at once.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @jc-winchester @whump-loverz @pizzagirlxnsfwx @king-of-milf-lovers @jollyhunter

[mochiwonz]

─── JEALOUSY ୨୧

PAIRING. idol fem!reader x idol bf!enhypen maknae line CONTENT. headcanons , fluff <3 , petnames + nicknames , cursing NOTE. thank u to the anon who requested this cute idea :D i hope u all enjoyyy !!

[ 💬 ] ... ️ in which fans start shipping you with another idol !

SUNOO.

you're scrolling on twitter, as you would every other day. as an idol, you loved seeing what people had to say about you— whether it be negative or positive. unbeknownst to you, sunoo had also been scrolling on twitter and saw something on his timeline that he really didn't like, at all. it was a post about you allegedly being in a relationship with another male idol. and shit, he never thought he'd be a jealous boyfriend, but he definitely is now. you're startled by the sound of your bedroom door opening— you were the only one home right now... right? you quickly assumed it was one of your members until you heard the person's voice, it was sunoo. "hi pretty girl" he says as he plops down on the side of your bed. you quickly sit up and shuffle over to him, and he engulfs you in a warm hug— the sunoo special. "hi pretty boy" you say, giggling a little. as he kisses the top of your head, you hear him gulp. "have you seen the uhm... rumors? about you and ____?" he asks with a slight frown on his face. you quickly sit up and look at him, you were very confused right now. "someone is spreading rumors about me and ____? on where?" "twitter" he replies, hand brushing through his silky hair. you notice how his demeanor is a bit gloomy, and you kind-of think you have an idea as to why. you bring your hands to cup his face and gently move his face so that he's looking right at you. "sun, you don't have to be jealous. you know that i don't even know the guy— and that i love you like crazy, right?" you tell him in a firm yet gentle tone of voice, and he can't help but smile. you knew him so well, and just everything about you, god, he loves you so much. "how'd you know i was jealous..." he mumbles and you quickly squish his cheek— something you loved doing. "i'm your girlfriend baby" you say as you peck him on the nose. without another second wasted, he quickly pulls you closer and once again, engulfs you in his embrace. "indeed you are, pretty girl"

JUNGWON.

jungwon had always told you he wasn't a jealous person. that was the truth, though. well, until rumors about you and ____ started circulating all over social media. and what made it worse for jungwon was how fans were really liking you two together. he had never felt jealousy before, at least not like this. of course he trusted you, but just seeing you even pictured with another man as a "cute couple" really didn't sit well with him. "have you seen the rumors?" he blurts out randomly as you two are lying down together on his bed, his arm wrapped around your waist. "mhm" you reply. of course you'd seen it, but you didn't really care. you didn't even know ____, and as long as you knew the truth— you didn't care. "what do you think about it?" he asks curiously. "nothing, really. i don't even know the guy" "okay, cool" he says, but there's something different in his tone of voice. he sounds... nervous, almost a little bit jealous. he hears you giggle to yourself and he shifts nervously. he trusted you, of course— but all your giggling made him a teeny bit suspicious. but before he could question you, you quickly position yourself so that you're facing him and intertwine your guy's hands. "wonnie, you know i'm your girlfriend, right? these are just rumors baby" you tell him while looking him in the eyes, his pretty boba eyes were always so pretty to stare at. he was just so cute, you'd never want to be with anyone else other than him. you wanted him to know that. this was the first time you'd seen jungwon like this, unsure, nervous, and jealous. "it just frustrates me a little" he starts off, "i wish i could just tell everyone that you're my girlfriend so they could shut the fuck up" he says with complete honesty, and you laugh. he brings his hand up to your cheek and caresses it with his thumb, staring at you with complete heart eyes. "i'd only ever feel like this for you baby. i didn't even know i could be somewhat jealous. guess it's the y/n effect" you lean into his hand and melt a little at his words. "i love you so much my wonnie" you say, and he gives you a cute peck on the lips. "i love you too, my pretty y/n."

NI-KI.

you and ni-ki had been caught on many dates by sasaengs and others, but were always labeled as friends. the public just thought you two gave off friend vibes, and considered every date as a friendly hang out. as long as you two weren't being showered in negative comments, you both didn't mind. however, a post that was titled ' idol y/n and idol ____ are caught on a date ' had caught ni-ki's attention. he was never that protective over you, let alone jealous. he trusted you 110% and vice versa. but halfway through reading the article, he had to exit out of the tab. but honestly, he felt really jealous right now. not that he didn't trust you, but that fans thought that you and ____ were dating and just assumed that you and ni-ki were just friends. there were already so many posts on tiktok, instagram, twitter, and youtube about you and ____ supposed relationship and how "cute" you two were together. he had to get off of social media, people were starting to piss him off. luckily, you both didn't have schedules today— so you had already planned to go over to his dorm. he didn't realize you were already on the way until he heard a knock at the front door. quickly realizing that it was you, he sprung up out of his bed and rushed to the front door. he really wanted, no— he needed to see you. the door quickly swung open and before you could even blink, he was already hugging you, arms tightly wrapped around your waist. "ki—" you're about to say something but he quickly cuts you off. "princess, you're my girl, yeah?" he asks and the jealousy is obvious. "you're jealous aren't you" you ask, teasing him a little. he looks down at you and boops your nose. he loves the way you look up at him, he realized couldn't bear to see you with another man. "and if i am?" you giggle at his truthful response, he could never hide his emotions from you— but that's what made him even more perfect for you. "you cutie, of course i'm your girl. those rumors are baseless and trust me, the photoshop goes crazy" you tell him, laughing towards the end of your statement. he smiles at your assuring words, yeah— he wouldn't be able to let go of you, ever. you were his girl, and his girl only.

please like, reblog, and comment if u enjoyed :3 u can find my other works here !

© mochiwonz ― all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, or translate my work.

[nlvrr]

GOAL OF THE HEART | jude bellingham

summary: a joke about being terrible at football leads to a flirty one-on-one session with jude, where teasing turns into something more.

warnings: none!

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

it started out as a joke. during a group hangout, you’d admitted—half embarrassed, half amused—that football and you simply didn’t mix. you told them that you might actually be the worst player alive, no exaggeration needed.

jude, who’d been sipping on a drink nearby, nearly choked when he heard you. his eyes immediately lit up with playful disbelief, that signature grin spreading across his face like he’d just found the world’s biggest challenge.

“the worst player alive?” he repeated, leaning closer as if he needed to double-check. “nah. you can’t be serious.”

“dead serious,” you replied with a shrug, though you felt your cheeks heating under his gaze. “i’m a lost cause. don’t even try.”

he leaned back, crossing his arms with an air of smug confidence. “oh, we’re not letting that slide. i could coach you in, like, an hour. easy.”

“that sounds like a waste of your time,” you said with a laugh, but jude’s grin only widened.

“you scared?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing in mock challenge.

and that was it. somehow, you ended up agreeing to a one-on-one training session, and now, here you were at the park, standing awkwardly on the grass while jude twirled a football like it was part of his hand. the late-afternoon sun hung low in the sky, bathing everything in golden light.

he set the ball down in front of you, already smirking. “all right, superstar. let’s see what i’m working with.”

you shot him a look before kicking the ball… straight into your own shin. it bounced pitifully off to the side, and you winced. jude, meanwhile, doubled over with laughter.

“oh my god,” he gasped, hands on his knees. “okay, that was worse than i thought it’d be.”

“shut up,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

“no, seriously,” he said between chuckles, walking over to grab the ball. “you’ve got, like, negative ball control. i thought you were joking!”

“do you want me to leave?”

he bit back another laugh, stepping closer until he was face-to-face with you. “you’re not getting out of this that easy.” his grin softened into something more encouraging. “but don’t worry, i’ve got you. you’re in good hands.”

“debatable,” you muttered, earning another laugh.

jude spent the next twenty minutes attempting to teach you the basics—emphasis on “attempting.” he showed you how to dribble with the inside of your foot, how to balance, how to aim. but every time you tried, you either tripped, kicked the ball in a completely wrong direction, or sent it rolling barely two feet in front of you.

“this is hopeless,” you groaned, throwing up your hands after yet another failed attempt.

“nah,” jude said, walking back over with that same annoyingly cocky grin. “you’re just… how do i say this nicely? really bad.”

you smacked his arm lightly, glaring at him even though his laughter was contagious.

“okay, okay,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “maybe we need a new approach.”

before you could ask what he meant, jude stepped behind you. his chest brushed against your back as he rested his hands on your arms, guiding them downward.

“relax,” he said, his voice dropping a little lower, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. “you’re way too tense. just focus on the ball.”

it was impossible to focus when his breath was warm against your ear and his hands were moving so gently yet firmly.

“you sure this is about football?” you shot back, glancing at him over your shoulder.

his lips curved into a smirk, and he leaned in just slightly closer. “why? is something distracting you?”

“you’re so annoying,” you muttered, cheeks flushing.

he only chuckled, his hands still resting lightly on yours. “keep telling yourself that.”

after what felt like a century, you finally managed to kick the ball into the makeshift goal. it wasn’t exactly a highlight-worthy shot—it rolled awkwardly into the bottom corner—but it counted. you turned to jude, expecting a teasing remark, only to find him lying flat on the ground, arms stretched out like he’d been dramatically defeated.

“you win!” he groaned, clutching his chest like he was in pain. “the student has surpassed the master.”

“oh my god, get up!” you laughed, walking over to nudge his side with your foot.

“i mean it,” he said, grinning up at you. “i’ve been absolutely humbled. what a performance.”

you rolled your eyes and plopped down on the grass beside him, both of you flushed and out of breath.

“admit it,” jude said after a moment, turning his head to look at you. “you had fun.”

you tilted your head toward him, raising a brow. “fun? with you? never.”

he grinned, shifting so he was leaning up on one elbow, his face suddenly a lot closer to yours. “nah, you love it. you love me, actually. go ahead, say it.”

“keep dreaming, bellingham,” you shot back, but the way his gaze dropped—just briefly—to your lips made your heart skip.

“for real, though,” he murmured, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face, his hand lingering for just a beat too long. “you did good today.”

you bit back a shy smile, pretending to brush it off. “well, what do i get for being your star player?”

he tilted his head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “how about dinner? you earned it.”

your heart raced, and before you could argue, he added with a smirk, “plus, someone’s gotta keep the coach company.”

rolling your eyes, you laughed. “you’re unbelievable.”

but you didn’t say no.

[arcanefox207]

The Wolf You Feed (Part 5)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Word Count: 7.3k

Part 5 / ? (Ongoing) A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T

Summary: Set in a fictional New England town, you fall for your handsome, intense and outdoorsy neighbor while renting out your parent's vacant summer home during a brutal winter.

Chapter Warnings: ANGST. Smut. POV-Switching. Rated Explicit. 18+ MDNI. See series masterlist for general warnings.

A/N: Hang in there friends. I will ease your pain soon 🧡

The next day you were, for the most part, unconsolable. Marlene let you lay around in her guest bed while you faded in between sleep and numbness. 

The pain was unfamiliar. Hurt because it was so unexpected. Amplified because you were falling so hard for him and thought he felt the same way. Hurt by the immense weight of betrayal and deception that he dumped on you last night. Hurt by the thought that he didn’t want you to know. Hurt because despite the pain you still felt a longing and prayed to just wake from the nightmare like it was all just a bad dream.

The early afternoon sun gave its best attempt to bring some life to you, but you simply rolled away from the window and wrapped yourself up in your warm cocoon. Your phone screen lit up on the nightstand for the umpteenth time and you ignored it.

The apathy you were feeling was weighing you down, paralyzing you from moving from your safe haven. It felt like time wasn’t moving either, and you were just trapped in this moment and helpless to do anything about it.

The 360 your emotions took in the span of 24 hours was unprecedented. It took everything out of you and you can’t stop ruminating on what was and what could have been. Where do you go from here? 

Last night, you don’t remember much of what happened when you left Coppers. You were inconsolable and Marlene felt too responsible for you to let you go home by yourself in your condition. She insisted you get in her car and she brought you to her apartment which was not too far away. 

She didn’t ask you any questions, and you could only assume what she could possibly be thinking about you now. You felt embarrassed and sick to your stomach whenever flashes from the night before popped into your mind. 

How could you have been so stupid?   

A tiny knock on the door caught your attention and Marlene meekly poked her head in. She wandered over to the bed and sat at the edge.

“Come on. I made us lunch and you are going to eat.” She patted your bundled up shoulder and got into your face to glare at you. This request was not optional at this point. You owed her big. She placed a bottle of water on the nightstand and you saw her eye your phone lighting up.

“Fine. Give me a minute?” You didn’t sound very convincing. “I promise.”

Marlene left you some clothes to borrow while you were there. An oversized long sleeve shirt and some sweatpants. Comfortable.

Marlene had lunch fixed for you both and slid over a hot cup of coffee as you approached the kitchen table. 

She was being far too kind to you. On the way home you remember little beyond the haze of being drunk and your breakdown. You remember sobbing and telling her you didn’t want to be alone. She ended up bringing you back to her place in town and babysat you through the night.

You were grateful to have made a friend in her and her kindness was the light guiding you through the turmoil. 

You manage a few bites from your sandwich out of consideration but don’t touch your coffee. The awkward silence is broken after a few moments, you knew the conversation was coming.

“So…” She pauses and then just comes out with it. “You and Joel, huh?” She attempts to drop the topic casually and friendly.

“Not anymore.” You feel your eyes well up again. Tears from anger, sadness and heartbreak. A trifecta of emotions that you don’t recall ever feeling before. Everything about Joel was intense and had been from the moment you met him. 

You realize that since meeting him it had all been mostly bottled up inside you. Except for some vague chatter at work, your life with Joel was mostly a secret. Something you kept private because you were shy about being judged for falling for a man so much older than you.  

You tell her everything. 

“Babe, he isn’t worth the tears.” she said so confidently, like she had so much knowledge about him that you didn’t know. 

“I had no idea about Tess.” The words spill out. “I just assumed it was only me. I would have never… How stupid-”

“Joel is an asshole” she cuts you off. Her tone is getting more heated as she gets frustrated that you are blaming yourself for anything in all of this. “What he did was wrong.” Marlene tried her best to keep her judgements to herself, but she always had been very outspoken. You knew she would be an open book if you would just ask. She seemed to harbor some resentment that was starting to slip out.

“How long have they.. You know. Been together?” you choke on the words.

“As long as I’ve known them.” she catches the way you react and takes a step back to explain. “They used to be close. Really close. Over the years they have grown apart. I think nowadays they just fuck around with each other when they are feeling lonely.” 

Your heart is in your throat and you want to throw up. You go to speak but can’t find the words, only more tears. 

“Sorry. I mean, you should know this.”

She's right, you should know this, and Joel should be the one telling you. You think back to how he was so quick to push you away at the bar and wanted to talk later. You knew something was up and he wasn’t ready for you to find out. Even if you never really defined anything between you both, he led you on. He used you. 

“Tess isn’t a saint either.” She interrupts you as if she can hear your thoughts. “This has been a long time coming. They are both toxic.” 

You wanted to know what she meant by that, but your mind couldn’t get past his wrongdoings. From where you sat last night, it looked like Tess was caught off guard by him too. 

You felt sick to your stomach the moment you realized you were the other woman. Tess didn’t deserve that.  

The tears were flowing again. You drag the back of your hand across your face to quickly wipe them away. 

“You deserve better.” She reassures you.

Do you, though? You wonder. 

You never had the best luck with men. The way Joel made you feel was not something you would be able to replace or move on from easily. He awoke something inside you that you needed to feed. He had a darkness that you were drawn to. A sexual energy that you never sought out before. It was so perfectly hidden behind some neighborly deeds and a tired man’s body.       

“Despite it all, and I know how stupid this sounds. How stupid this is. I still… can’t stop thinking about him.” You confess out loud. 

You were not a stupid person by any stretch, but you were feeling blinded by how he had been making you feel up until last night. Even after you confronted him, before you really learnt what was going on, you still felt like he was doing this for you. He wasn’t acting like the same person, but you could feel the Joel you knew was still there inside him. Like the face he was putting on was for everyone else, but your Joel was waiting in the wings.

When he had you alone by the bathrooms you could feel how much he wanted you. See how much hurt there was in his eyes when you were crying. He told you it wasn’t about you and you really wanted to believe that was true.

When he held your face in his hand and wiped your tears you knew that whatever was going on, his feelings for you were not something to question. He wanted you on a primal level and you wanted him to take what he needed from you. 

You weren’t in a formal relationship with him. You never had that talk with him. You never asked if there was anyone else. These thoughts were creeping in and making you feel stupid and partially responsible. Your conscience was desperately looking for any excuse to help Joel’s case. 

Marlene rolls her eyes. “Joel is nothing but bad news. Look at what he already did to you. Forget him.” 

Easier said than done, you think to yourself. The truth is that up until his performance he had been the first guy in your life that made you feel truly desired. It couldn’t have felt so real if it wasn’t true.

He needed you, but you also needed him.   

“Marlene…” You pause, trepidation in your tone. “I was falling for him. I think I was in l-”

“Stop.” She cuts you off. “You liked his… handsome charm, don’t confuse it for something more.” An annoyance peaks in her voice. 

You had fallen for people before and had relationships based purely on lust and attraction, but this was not it. It was something so unique that you couldn’t even put into words or feelings. A high that he gave you that you had to chase because you needed that next fix so badly. 

“And…” She pauses before cautiously saying more. “He is old enough to be your dad. Come on, this wasn’t going anywhere!” She was trying to make you see the obvious things without sounding too critical. 

You actually liked that he was older. It was so attractive if not a little bit taboo which just made it that much more exciting. He was worn on the edges but he was so confident and capable with everything he did. Not to mention no one had pleasured you like Joel Miller. You were absolutely smitten by everything he gave to you. He made you insatiable for him in every way. 

You brushed off her comments about his age. It was something you loved about him. Something that turned you on that you didn’t feel like defending.

Still, by all counts she was right. You knew the right thing to do would be to move on with your life, without Joel. 

“I’m sure whatever you had was fun, but that is all it was ever going to be.” Her matter of fact way of stating things helped to make the reality hit a little less hard. 

Maybe the reason it felt so good with Joel is because you wanted it to be something more than it was. The pit in your stomach reminds you of its presence and how this whole ordeal makes you feel sick.

There is a long silence between the two of you, and she no doubt can tell how heavy the words are hitting you. She finishes her coffee and clears the table, taking away your hardly touched plate. 

You sit with your thoughts for a moment before joining her at the kitchen sink. You hand her your mostly full coffee mug to pour in the basin.

The elephant in the room is getting too big to ignore.

It didn’t matter how you felt or what you wanted when there was someone else involved.

“What am I going to do now?” You ask her with teary eyes and a meek voice.

“I know Tess pretty well, and she can be scornful. I don’t think she knows about you and Joel, and you should keep it that way.” 

You feel yourself disassociated and want to just disappear. Go back to your Boston life and pretend you never met Joel Miller. Find a new job.  A new place to live and start fresh, again. 

“I like you, and I think you got put in a real shitty situation.” That was an understatement. “I’m not going to say anything to her, ok?” 

You nod, and believe her words.

“You are done with Joel, right?” She looks at you for confirmation. “Right?”

“Yeah. Of course.” You look away from her as you answer and the tears flow again. You weren’t sure if you were lying to her or lying to yourself, but you knew it wasn’t truthful. Whatever path you carved out next would be wrong if it wasn’t leading away from Joel.  

“Then cry as much as you need to now and put this behind you.”

She brings you in for a comforting hug and you sob into her shoulder.   

The worst part of it all is that you still have feelings for him.

—

JOEL POV - The Night Before

As he walked towards the stage to play, he was a wreck inside. Looking calm and composed was just a facade. He was nervous enough to be playing tonight with his carefully thought out song, but now knowing you may very well still be around was tipping him over the edge. There was no turning back at this point and he had to stay the course. He had to get this off his chest and had to wash his hands of Tess. Whatever comes next he would have to take it as it comes. 

The thought of hurting you in any way made him sick. 

Taking his seat he was grateful for the bright lights on him, making the audience look like anonymous shadows. At least in his mind he could pretend it was a room of nobodies. He never was one to have stage fright. He was a talented enough musician and most of the audience was drunk. He didn’t care what they thought anyways.  

He drags his hand along the neck of the guitar, feeling the strings under his calloused fingertips. Taking in a deep breath he adjusts the guitar in his lap. The light reflects off his watch and the shiny, polished wood of his instrument. The stage feels lonely as the room silences with all eyes on him.    

He strums his guitar and flexes his hand to loosen up. There is no turning back now and this is something he has to do. 

“This one’s…. for Tess.” his voice shakes as the words leave his mouth. 

This moment the only thing that mattered was that she heard this. He never was one with words or talking about his feelings, but he always had been able to lean on music when it mattered. It was the only time he truly let himself be vulnerable.  

As he started playing, he blocked out everything around him. His mind was just filled with the memories of Tess. What he loved. What he wanted. What he never got and never will. What he would always mourn but no longer desire. His time with her was over for him. He could feel his heart aching as he sang, but also getting lighter, not realizing how heavy this all was weighing on him for such a long time until he was letting it go.

As the song progressed it felt cathartic. Letting some of his anger slip into his tone and fade out into the ether, taking along his frustrations. Confronting all the feelings he had been holding in for so long. The sadness he felt was mourning, and he knew it would only get better now that he was moving on. He had already been mourning her loss for a long time without truly acknowledging it. Until now.       

Living in the memory

   Of a love that never was

He was feeling bolder and confident that his decision to be done with Tess was the right one. It didn’t erase their history or make her impact on his life any less significant. What they had was special and always would be. It didn’t have to overstay like it was in order to preserve that history. It was time to move on and stop feeding the resentment that was overtaking everything left that was good.

He would always love her for their history and she had to know so that she could move on too before the damage between them was too great. He knew she would understand and accept it; in time. 

Then you crept back into his mind. Finally he was giving himself permission to allow it to, properly. 

You filled in all that empty space that was vacant for just mere moments. Another realization that he wasn’t giving everything to you and how much he wanted to. He had been indulging in your companionship with trepidation. Reluctant to open himself up and fearful that it would be another road to nowhere. 

Afraid you might not want him and his darkness that came along once you really knew him. 

His eyes were finally adjusted to the lights just enough to make out the details in the shadows in front of him. 

He couldn’t help himself to look up and scan the audience, searching for you passively. Deep down, he knew you were still out there. He could sense that unexplainable feeling when someone is watching you intently. It made his heart race as he struggled to fight the distraction and finish his song. 

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

And I think I'm gonna love you

As if by instinct, he zeroed in on you standing towards the back of the room with tears in your eyes. An invisible rope tethering you together against the odds in the sea of shadows. 

When he caught your eyes he had to look away in shame. Disgusted with himself that you were collateral damage in his situationship. He choked on his final words, and they came out low and shaky.  

For a long, long time.

He strummed the last chords of his song and fought back the feeling in his throat that was bubbling up. He felt like he couldn’t breathe and the weight of his actions was crushing him. The silence in the room filled him with dread and it felt like time was standing still, like he was in front of everyone naked with his emotions raw and exposed before them. His chest was tight, bursting with an anxious heart beating rapidly with heavy thuds.  

A conflicting wave of emotions tears through him and it takes everything not to lose his composure. He takes the deepest breath, closes his eyes and it isn’t Tess that comes to mind. 

It’s you. 

With his final strum of the guitar it felt like he was releasing himself from Tess. Free after so long and fighting so hard for their relationship. Free to bring his full attention to where his heart was calling him.

Finally the room erupts in applause and he feels the tiniest pang of relief wash over him and snaps him back to reality. He sneaks off the stage and makes his way towards the back. He needed to hold you and tell you how sorry he was and at this point he didn’t care who saw him.

Familiar faces and acquaintances slapped him on the back and boasted to him about how great he did and the gauntlet of drunken patrons slows him down significantly. When he manages to break away and gets eyes on where you were standing you are nowhere to be found. 

A hand grabs his sleeve and he turns but his heart sinks when it’s Tess.

“Joel..” she whines through a shaky voice and pulls him to look at her.

He didn’t want to be cruel to her or disregard whatever feelings she was going through but he also didn’t feel obligated to her anymore. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like he was on her leash. He was done putting her first.  

“Tess, not now.” His voice was low and gentle. He really did feel for her out of habit, but he also knew he couldn’t let her try to reconcile. Not yet, anyways. He was open and hopeful to remain friends with her, but she needed to get over him first. He knew her reaction would be anger until she had time to cool off. 

“Really? After that you are going to ice me out? What the hell, Joel?” Her anger was increasing with every sound leaving her lips. The last thing he wanted was a blow up with her and he wasn’t going to let her control this narrative any longer. 

“Stop it.” He unintentionally uses his size to intimidate her as he steps closer. Silencing her as the remaining empathy leaves his eyes. He was never confrontational with Tess, and this was something new that she did not expect or know how to react to.   

A few nosy people nearby get quiet as they try to watch the drama unfold in front of them and pretend to be minding their own business. Joel takes a step back from Tess and furrows his brow.  

“I told you. I’m moving on. We’re done now.” He says firmly and sharply points his finger towards her. The tears in her eyes almost make him soften, but he holds firm. “Done.” He reiterates through gritted teeth.

He hated being so cold, but he had to or else nothing would change.  

Tess bites her lip and for the first time has no words. She was so used to being the boss and calling the shots and for the most part Joel let her. Not this time. She wipes the wetness that starts to fall from her eyes and walks off, angry and hurt.

“What are you looking at?” He snaps at the prying eyes watching him be a total asshole and then proceeds to walk towards the exit to continue his search. He was quickly running out of fucks to give by this point in the evening.

The bar was starting to clear out a little now that the live entertainment was done for the night. He doesn’t see you and starts to worry you left without allowing him a chance to explain himself. 

Truthfully, he didn’t know what he was going to say, but he knew he needed to see you. To apologize at the minimum and beg you to hear him out. There was so much you didn’t know that he needed to tell you.

He collects his guitar, dons his jacket and makes his way outside. There is a gentle snow falling and a coating on the cars and walkway. Footprints heavily littering the path into the parking lot and fanning out. It would be a fool's errand to pick out your prints or your car under the blanket of winter. 

He makes his way to his truck, and carelessly brushes off his windshield with his sleeve. 

He pulls out his phone and calls you, but it goes unanswered and to your mailbox. He sends you a text.

Joel: Im so sorry baby

Joel: Please can we talk? 

He leans on his truck, ignoring the cold and tries to call you again. And again. The relentless ringing is only silenced by the robotic voice of the generic voice mail operator.

After the 3rd call he left a message.

“Please answer the phone baby girl. I know I don’t deserve it, but I need to talk to you. Please.” His message was delivered with a low, calm tone, barely masking that he was afraid. 

Afraid he lost you.  

—

READER POV - Saturday Afternoon

Marlene dropped you off at the bar to pick up your car. No one was around this time of day and it felt surreal being back at the scene of the crime, so to speak. She gave you a hug and just nodded to you as you left. Urging you to believe you would be ok, and you had to move on. 

When you got home you didn’t even dare look to see if Joel was home. You went inside, took a shower and wrapped up in a blanket to watch TV on your couch.

Whatever was on you didn’t really pay attention. Your mind was just filled with Joel. You wanted to wake up from this bad dream. 

You had been vulnerable with him. You were ready to give yourself to him so quickly because you craved that intimacy only he could give. He worshipped your body and made you feel something you never felt before. 

Was that enough? Surely not to a self respecting person. It makes you feel sick to be so hesitant to do the obviously right thing.  

You so badly wanted him, and knew you couldn’t just let him treat you this way. You felt guilty about still wanting to give him a chance.

You finally gave in to looking at your phone. 

You had 34 unread messages from Joel. 9 missed calls and 3 voicemails. You fought the urge to see what he had to say and instead gave notice to your other missed calls. Your mother. She had tried to call you 3 times. You had barely talked to her this past week and didn’t really want to but you also knew she would worry if you continued to ignore her. You were afraid she might also reach out to her precious neighbor too if you gave her any reason to panic. It didn’t take much with her. 

You called your mom, lied that you were sick with the flu and that you just wanted to sleep. She didn’t make you talk long thankfully and she didn’t say anything about her handyman neighbor.

The night was getting late and you mustered up enough energy to move into your bedroom. 

Seeing Joel’s flannel shirt laying at the foot of your bed hit you hard. You had been so happy and flirty just a few nights before and you wanted that back. It felt like it was taken from you unfairly.

You hugged the shirt to your chest and breathed in his masculine scent that still lingered. The scent that drove you wild with desire.  

How were you going to get over this man who made you such a mess?

You tossed the shirt into your dirty clothes pile and got into bed, lamenting how cold and empty it was and wishing you were wrapped up in Joel’s navy blue sheets and stealing his heat. Feeling his heartbeat against your cheek as he holds you close. The ghost of his touch on your skin makes you tear up again. 

Fuck you Joel Miller. You mumble out loud to yourself. It wasn’t fair.   

You lay there for what felt like hours, your mind firing on all cylinders with no hope of slowing down. 

Curiosity won in the end, and you opened up the text thread with Joel. You scanned it quickly and saw a recurring theme of him asking if you were ok, apologizing and worried that you were not home.  

Joel: Please just tell me you are safe

Joel: I’ll leave you alone just let me know

Joel: Where are you? 

Those were texts from the morning. After your car was back home and signs of life his messages were back to apologizing and what you can only imagine to be a descent of drunken texts from this evening.

Joel: I’m so sorry

Joel: We need to talk

Joel: Please n

Joel: I m fucknig srry

Joel: Just let m tel you and ill stpo

Joel: /

Joel: I ned to talk to you

You wanted to talk to him. You needed some clarity, but you also didn’t want to be tricked into forgiving him because of your body betraying your mind. There was a nagging you could not shake that his actions at the bar didn’t undo the way he made you feel. There had to be more to it or else it would be so easy to wash your hands of him and never turn back. 

You started typing a reply and deleting until finally settling on just leaving him on read. 

You listened to his first voicemail, and hearing the pain in his voice made your heart break more. He was worried about you and he sounded like he was doing his best to be composed, but you could see through it. That southern drawl makes you melt when you hear him call you baby girl.

You slammed your phone down and regretted giving in to his attempts. It only made it harder to be mad at him.  

As you drifted off to sleep with tears leaving wet stripes on your cheeks you decided that tomorrow you would go see Joel. You would go in person and get a true gauge of where things stand. You would also try to do the right thing.    

—

JOEL POV - Saturday Night

Midday and he was worried about you. Not only were you not answering him or reading his messages, but you also had not been home. Of course you were an adult and clearly could do whatever you wanted, but he felt entirely responsible for whatever you were up to. 

He paced to his bedroom window, looking out through the blinds to see the same snow covered drive. Untouched. He was getting restless.  

He flips through your messages and can’t help but look at the pics you sent him during your bedtime photoshoot.

He could feel himself harden and palmed himself through his denim to get some relief. It felt wrong, but he couldn’t control the way his body reacted to you. He unzips his jeans to let his cock breathe as he takes a seat in the living room. 

Scrolling through the photos you sent and seeing more and more of your body made him swell. The pressure in his groin became too much to handle with a casual touch. 

Fuck he mumbles under his breath. 

He spreads his legs wider and slides a hand inside his boxers to stroke himself, imagining it was you and your gentle hands wrapped around his shaft. 

The guilt of what he did weighed heavy on his mind but didn’t hinder him from getting aroused. He needed to have you again. Feel your tight pussy gripping him and listen to your sweet moans. 

It eats away at him. It was wrong to get off to you especially after what he had done to you. 

But it didn’t stop him.

Settling on the second picture you sent, he focuses on how deranged and needy you looked. Hungry for his cock. Your breasts were perfectly in view and still partially clad in his shirt. His scent was all over you in that moment. You were his.  

His labored strokes quicken as he fucks into his fist and he comes with a stifled groan. 

Sitting alone with his release dripping over his knuckles made him feel like a dirty old man. Getting off to a woman that didn’t want him anymore.   

He woke later that evening, awkwardly slumped against the arm of his chair. The house was completely dark except for some embers from his wood stove about to give it’s last breath. He was groggy and sore. His neck ached from the awkward position. 

After getting his wits about him, he opened his phone to see you still had not replied. He stumbled over to his window and to his relief your car was parked in the yard. 

At least you were home. You were safe. Clearly you did not want to talk to him yet. 

He wanders off to his kitchen to pour himself a stiff drink and downs it way too fast before taking a shower and drinking again and again. 

As the whiskey clouds his mind and fills him with nothing but remorse for what he did, he sloppily sends you some desperate texts before passing out for the night.

—

READER POV - Sunday

The Sunday afternoon energy was heavy. You had been avoiding Joel in every possible way since Friday night. The exception being your moment of weakness and reading his texts. Instead you buried yourself in a book trying to focus your mind on another world with characters struggling with simpler problems.

The time spent alone had given you some peace to think about what your next move was going to be, but you were still battling with what to do.

If you were not so smitten with him it would be so easy to just walk away. You never questioned his character before and now it’s all you can do. Weighing the damage he did with what you had come to know about him before was not an easy task. It also made you question your own character. What kind of a person would it make you be to continue on with this? Maybe you battled with failed relationships all your life because you never found the one to balance who you really are. Maybe you are just hopelessly lusting over Joel Miller and telling yourself anything that can make it feel ok. 

Your anger and hurt was stinging less and making you feel more numb than anything. Marlene’s words of advice were lingering in the front of your mind constantly. You felt guilty for entertaining the idea of talking to him and even more guilty for settling on actually doing it. 

Looking out your front window you see his truck parked in his driveway. No fresh tire tracks and covered in snow. You had not seen any signs of life since you returned home other than some smoke from his chimney and a light or two.

The text messages from him did still trickle in at a slower pace, but you continued to ignore them. Wiping the notification off your lock screen.

Marlene also texted you periodically to check in and you assured her you were doing just fine and would be ok. 

You made an impulsive decision to go over now before you changed your mind again, not sure what you were going to say or do, but you couldn’t ignore him forever. The more you thought about what your gameplan was the more you started to talk yourself out of it.  

You freshened up in the bathroom, applying some light makeup to mask the bags under your eyes and hide the fact that you have been crying for days. You knew deep down you also just wanted to look really good for him. You wanted to spite him and make him want you but not let him have you as some sort of punishment. At least that is what you told yourself.     

You bundled up in your boots and winter jacket. Wrapped a scarf around you and put on some mittens and a hat. Your hair falling loosely around your face. You looked cute but completely covered up. 

The sun was just starting to set, but there was still plenty of light left to venture outside.

You wandered over to your mailbox and picked up the scent of burning wood. A smoky, campfire smell. It smelled inviting. You heard a chopping sound coming from the direction of Joel’s house and guessed he was outside working. Typical Joel behavior to be outdoors. 

As you make your way to his house the campfire smell intensifies and you see some smoke coming from the side of his house. There is a footpath going from his driveway and you decide to follow it to the sound.

As you round the corner, the sight is enough to make you forgive all his wrongs.

Joel’s back was to you and his silhouette is bright and familiar. You could recognize his figure in a lineup with ease. Broad and commanding.  

The frame of his body was muscular but not bulky. Toned from his manual labor lifestyle. His broad shoulders and tapered waist were perfectly illuminated by the burning fire next to him.  

He was dressed in some dirty jeans that hugged him perfectly and heavy work boots. His torso clad in a rustic, plaid flannel not too different from the one you stole. The sleeves are pushed up and bunched on his forearms and his hands protected with leather gloves. 

You see his jacket discarded on a pile of chopped wood and a small brush pile burning next to him, keeping him unnecessarily warm. It looked like he had more than enough body heat radiating off him. Uncomfortably toasty.  

The area between his shoulder blades was damp and dark with sweat. The curls in his hair were an unruly mess, especially where they met the hot perspiration on his neck. 

Seeing Joel in lumberjack mode unlocked something inside you that you didn’t even know existed. He was so primal in his ability to handle whatever task was at hand. Just as he had been when intimate with you. He could take you away and live off the grid someplace in the wilderness and you wouldn’t bat an eye. He was more than capable of taking care of all your needs.  

You feel it deep inside you. That intense heat building that only Joel can make you feel. An arousal coiling up inside you and ready to burst out if given the chance.   

He turns to place a section of wood in front of him and makes a grunt sound as he lifts it into place. No doubt it was heavy and judging by his pile, and the sweat on his body, he had been at this for a while. His outstretched arm had his flannel tightly choking his bicep as he moved to adjust the log in front of him. It was obscene to see his body flex and demonstrate his strength. The desire to have his arms on you in this moment and feel the full force of his body against you.

He picks up the axe and throttles it down again with a grunt, wood splintering in front of him as the force from his axe splits the wood into two.

He is nearly panting from the exertion, moving the split wood over to the pile only to repeat it all over again. He pulls his shirt up to wipe his brow. The hard ridges of his muscles taunt you as they shine in the light of the fire. As he wipes his sweat and pauses for the briefest moment to rest against his axe you decide to make your presence known before he realizes you are watching him.

“Hey Joel” you announce softly.

He is startled by you and turns quickly, letting his shirt fall back over his stomach. His expression softens when he meets your eyes. He tosses the axe next to him and pulls off his gloves as he steps towards you. 

The heat of his body and his smoky scent hit you all at once as he stands just in front of you, unsure if he should touch you or not.  He hesitates but you can see the desire in his eyes to touch you. 

“Sweetheart, I’m–” he pauses, and rakes his hand through his hair. “I’m so glad to see you. Lord knows I don’t deserve it.” He gives a side smirk and his best attempt at looking innocent. It almost works.

He steps towards you but you reluctantly hold your hand up. He ignores it and pushes his chest into your palm. His innocence was replaced with cunning intentions. His damp and hot chest sending a wave of desire through you, making you even more wet. You were certain he could sense it too despite your attempts to act put together.  

Before you can protest he has his hands on your waist. His fingers wrapping around you and positioned to pull you in close. His needy energy is not something you have seen before. Not like this. Assertive but stepping over a line you put out. 

“Joel, stop.” You weakly protest and take a step back from him. His hands slide off your hip as you step away and you can see some panic in his eyes that he misread what this was. 

He could clearly see how mixed you were feeling. He was letting his raw desire take the lead and hoped it would help sway you to give in to him and soften your resolve. Whether it was wrong or right, he knew that sexual tension you both had was not going silently.

He also knew that he cared about you more than just as a hookup. Truthfully you had made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was so scared to lose you before he even got to properly have you. His fear was making him act stupid and desperate and he didn’t know how to reign it back. Especially with you being just within your reach. He was tailspinning.      

“I’m sorry, baby.” He pauses. “I should have told you about her. It’s not what it looks like. I mean, it is complicated and–”

You swallow back your feelings and look him straight in the eyes. How much more cliche could he get?  

“It’s too late for that now,” you countered, realizing that confronting this now was not something you were ready for after all. 

Joel chewed his lip, wiping his hand on his chin as he fought back the urge to unleash some of his anger that he had been harboring. Anger he had towards himself that needed to escape. He was getting agitated.

He knew you were right, but he knew he couldn’t just let you go. He lets out a deep breath as he pinches between his brows, releasing a little tension as he exhales and composes his next words carefully.

“I want you to… need you to know I never did anything with her while I was with you.” His words come out desperate, pleading with you to understand. To forgive him even. 

You weren’t sure if you believed that. You couldn’t exactly trust him anymore now that the trust had been broken.     

“I swear it. There is a lot you don’t know about Tess and-”

Hearing her name on his lips is the last straw and it enrages you, reminding you that you are not here for second chances and apologies. You are here to tell him to leave you alone.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” You declare coldly and emotionless. 

Joel stares, he looks like he wants to speak but he isn’t sure what to say. He isn’t sure he heard you right, or didn’t want to believe that he did. 

You go to turn but he grabs your sleeve and holds you to face him.

“Please, I need to… don’t go.” He stumbles over his words, grabbing you harder than he meant to, desperate to make you stay.  

“You hurt me.” The tears start to fall again as you speak your truth to him. You look him straight in the eyes so he can see your pain from what he did. There was no misreading your tears. 

“I know. Never meant for you to get hurt. I can explain-” He panics, realizing you are leaving him and his chance is fleeting.

You struggle to pull your arm away but he isn’t listening and just brings you closer with his strength. He was blind to your obvious demands to stop. Clouded by his panic.  

“I owe you an explanation. Let me-” His eyes penetrate into you, begging you to look at him. 

“It's too late.” You cut him off. “Lose my number.” Your words bite. 

You pull your arm away sharply and continue to walk away. You feel him staring at you and you swear he can hear your heart beating out of your chest. It took every ounce of restraint to hold firm with what you set out to do. You were not going to let him talk you into changing your mind.

With tears welling up in your eye you continue walking forward. You hear him begging you to stop and listen to him. 

“Sweetheart, please.” he calls out after you. Pleading with you but you put more distance between him and his words as they get quieter.

Under his breath, Joel whispers “I’m sorry.” When your pace quickens and you don’t look back you swear you can hear him speak those words again and again, but you keep walking. 

To be continued...

A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T | N O T I F I C A T I O N S

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[puck-luck]

Note: welcome to beaquinn hammock hookup! I'm formatting this on my phone bc I already put my computer in my bag, so I apologize if it looks wonky :)

Warnings: fingering, public & outdoor sex, handjob

WC: 2225

SMUT UNDER THE CUT! (I don't have my normal graphic for that since, yet again, I'm on my phone.) Minors, do NOT interact. Thanks!

Bea feels remarkably like a cat who is napping in a sunlit window. The moonlight doesn’t actually warm her all that much, but the red wine in her stomach and Quinn’s body heat does. They’re stargazing, but Bea has curled up into Quinn’s side and started to breathe him in. It would probably be expensive and unrealistic– try impossible– to bottle him up like a perfume, but with her nose pressed into the side of his chest, she would like nothing more.

Not only is he keeping her warm and smelling good, but he’s also so fun to touch. Quinn’s bicep is acting like a pillow for Bea, her knee is thrown over his leg, and her hand is on his stomach. Bea could fall asleep right here, on the ground, so long as Quinn is touching her.

Her fingers are a little bit cold, though. It’s the middle of summer, but since the sun has set, there’s a slight chill in the air. She’s already wearing Quinn’s Palm Angels Creative Services sweatshirt, which is big on Quinn and massive on Bea, but she’s cold.

There is a solution– the human hand-warmer beside her.

Just as Bea is snaking her hand under Quinn’s t-shirt and flattening her palm over his happy trail, she’s wrenched out of the moment by Honey’s cross voice.

“Stop that,” Honey chides.

She’s probably talking to Jack or Cole, or even Trevor, so Bea doesn’t pay her any mind. She continues her motion, finding the slight dip of Quinn’s v-line and tracing it.

“Seriously, Bea, stop it or go,” Honey adds, indignant.

Now it’s clear that she’s directing her complaints at Bea. Ugh. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t have Quinn underneath her, with these lovehandles that she just wants to bite and pinch and love on.

Quinn shifts underneath her and catches Bea’s hand, halting her movements. “We’ll go to bed,” Quinn decides for them, holding Bea’s hand and dragging her up to a seated position. “C’mon, Bea.”

Bea groans, scrunching up her face. Moving is so hard. She raises her arms petulantly and blinks up at Quinn, doe-eyed.

He chuckles and shakes his head at Bea, smiling down and gathering her up in his arms. “Needy girl, did all that wine stop your legs from working?” He teases good-naturedly.

Bea’s stomach flutters. “I would just rather cuddle you,” Bea replies. She snuggles closer to Quinn and buries her nose in his chest, inhaling deeply and obviously and making Quinn laugh.

“Seemed like you wanted more than a cuddle, baby,” Quinn says knowingly. “How are you feeling?”

“Feeling like I want my boyfriend to touch me,” Bea sings, flattening her palms on Quinn’s chest and dragging them down his torso seductively once he sets her down, her feet against the ground so she's standing, but there's still very little space between them. His nostrils flare a little bit at his title, which is still fresh enough that it evokes a reaction from Quinn.

Jack and Honey can share looks all they want, but Bea and Quinn should be allowed to soak up the honeymoon phase as long as they’d like. It’ll all end at the end of August anyway, so what’s a month of mushy, over-the-top PDA?

“Oh, yeah?” Quinn asks. “What should your boyfriend do to you? He’s not going to fuck you in the hammock, F-Y-I.”

Bea frowns and digs her fingers into Quinn’s waistband, inching them down. “Why not?”

Quinn looks at her, unimpressed. “Because the hammock will flip over and we’ll fall out if I fuck you the way I want to fuck you.”

Bea hums. That sounds enticing. “Maybe we should sneak into Honey’s room,” Bea jokes. She wiggles her eyebrows and laughs. “You can fuck me to your heart’s content.”

Quinn looks off to the side, back toward the group, chuckling with Bea. “I think if we fuck in Honey’s bed, then she and Trevor will fuck in our bed.”

“Hm, good point,” Bea says. “We don’t want that. Not Trevor, at least.”

“Exactly.” Quinn pecks her forehead. “But, the sooner you get in the hammock, the sooner I can make you come on my fingers. Does that sound okay?”

“Better than okay,” Bea agrees. She hops into the hammock and tries to keep the swinging fabric steady for Quinn. Once he collapses on top of Bea’s body, she kisses his temple. “Once you make me come, I’ll get my hand on you, too.”

“So generous,” Quinn murmurs. He seals his mouth over hers and coats her tongue with his taste.

He tastes just the same as she does, probably. Her tastebuds are coated with red wine and Quinn’s kisses are slow, tinged with sensuality. Bea could kiss him all day and all night, if she’s being honest. Given how little time they have, she never wants to part from Quinn.

The pads of his fingers inch between her legs, rubbing Bea’s core over her shorts. “You wanna take these off?” He asks.

Bea nods. “Mhm,” she agrees. “I kind of like the idea of being exposed like this.”

Quinn groans, swooping in to kiss her again. “Fuck, I love you,” he tells Bea.

He’s been saying that a lot lately. It’s not like she told him to stop, but she also hasn’t said it back. It makes her… anxious, maybe, to hear Quinn say that he loves her? Not always in a bad way– in moments like this, it makes her giggle and remember that they’re a great match, but other times it just reminds her that things are going to be really difficult at the end of August. The real reason that Bea doesn’t stop Quinn from saying he loves her, though, is because he always says it so earnestly. He truly means it and she doesn’t want to stop him from saying what he means. She doesn’t want to silence him.

Luckily, he’s kissing her again, so she doesn’t have to reply. He usually does that. He’ll smother her lips before she can think of a response to his statement. Bea suspects that he knows that she’s not quite there yet and that’s why he doesn’t give her a chance to hesitate.

He’s so… good. If Bea was to make him in the Sims, she’d almost certainly put “Good” as one of his three personality traits.

She loses her shorts and Quinn shifts her panties to the side, baring Bea’s pussy to the summer air. He intertwines their legs, able to press his rapidly fattening length against the top part of her thigh. As one of his hands slips between her folds, prodding at her entrance, his other cups the back of her neck and keeps their lips slotted together.

His tongue fills her mouth again as two of his fingers bluntly push into her heat. He’s only just started to thrust them in and out when–

“Hey,” Honey’s soft voice hisses, sounding like she’s already grinding her teeth together and grimacing at the idea of interrupting.

Bea barely holds back a snort when Quinn flinches away from her. This isn’t the first time Honey has interrupted her in the middle of something– after all, they did live together for a year. There were only so many times that Honey was willing to be sexiled from the house that she was paying to own.

Quinn’s face goes from a ‘deer-in-headlights” expression to one that is more calm. He turns back to Bea, looking down at her. “Do you want a blanket?”

Bea sits up, leaning on her elbows to do so. She looks over the edge of the hammock at Honey. “You can just drop it there,” she says. Then, she grins, seeking to make Honey just a bit more uncomfortable with her next words. She always makes the funniest face when she doesn’t want to hear something about Bea’s sex life. “Quinn’ll come get it in a second. His hands are a little busy right now.” For good measure, she clenches down on his fingers, which surprises Quinn and makes him blush.

The blanket hits the ground with a muted thump. “I didn’t need to know that.” Honey deadpans before turning on her heel and walking away. “Have a good night!” She wishes in false cheer.

Bea thinks quick on her feet. “Just trying to cross something off my Rice Purity Test,” she calls after Honey, laughing to herself. Honey flips her off without looking back, which effectively ends their conversation. Bea lifts her arms and curls them around Quinn’s neck, bringing him back down to kiss her lips.

“Are you actually?” Quinn asks between kisses. “For the Rice Purity Test?”

“Nah,” Bea says. “I think my score is low enough. Plus, I’ve had sex outside before. It just wasn’t quite like this.” She tilts her head up and pecks his lips again. “But, I have crossed a few items off because of you. Kissing for more than two hours consecutively? That was all you, Q.”

“What’s your score?” Quinn inquires, sounding interested.

“Uh, 40, last I checked,” Bea says. “Definitely not too shabby, but not too slutty.”

Quinn has begun moving his fingers again, bringing waves of pleasure with his movements. “Definitely not slutty.”

“What’s yours?” Bea asks.

“42, but I guess I’m knocking off ‘public sex’ and ‘outdoor sex’ right now,” Quinn teases. “So we’re the same. Not slutty at all.”

Bea giggles. “Hmm, if you’re good, I’ll give you the $5 bill in my wallet and we can both get down to 39?”

Quinn snorts out a laugh into her mouth and brings his thumb to her clit. “Quiet, you. You get to come free of charge today.”

“Oh, thank you, Quinn Hughes,” Bea simpers before locking lips with Quinn and keeping him close.

Their kisses are as sloppy as his crude thrusts, sounding similar as well. Their lips smack quietly as they come together and part, breathing into each others’ mouths before diving in for another round. Quinn’s fingers move in and out of Bea at a leisurely pace, savoring her slick and working in tandem with his circling thumb.

It’s only once Bea shoves her hand into Quinn’s shorts that he starts to speed up. It’s a race against each other, with Bea stripping Quinn’s cock until his hips are twisting away from her grip and Quinn pulsing his fingertips against Bea’s g-spot in a way that has her whimpering against his tongue.

Quinn pushes a third finger past Bea’s entrance, doing everything he can to bring her to the peak before he comes in her hand. His effort is for naught– when Bea twists her fingers in his hair and tugs slightly, causing that burning ache in Quinn’s scalp that he likes so much while he eats her out, he shudders on top of her and begins to spill in her hand.

Bea catches what she can, doing her best to make sure there will be no cumstain on Quinn’s shorts when they rise and greet the others in the morning.

When he finishes quivering under her touch, Bea draws her hand from his shorts and brings her hand to her mouth.

Quinn draws back and, eyes hooded, watches her lick his cum from her palm and fingers. He looks slightly more drunk than he was originally, intoxicated by the view in front of him.

Bea smirks as she sucks, taking her time with Quinn’s cum.

Quinn grips the back of her neck and draws Bea forward, trapping her hand between their bodies and crashing his lips against her own. He’s greedy and insatiable, pressing his hips and softening cock against her thigh as he thrusts his fingers inside of her.

“Wish I could get my mouth on you,” Quinn tells her quietly, but rushed like the world will end if he doesn’t say it. “I’d suck your clit ‘til you’re coming all over my face, baby. Nothing in the world tastes better than you.”

“Shit,” Bea replies, blinking hard at his words. Her hips jump under his touch, thighs shaking with his insistent bullying of her inner walls. “Y’re gonna make me come, Q.”

“The whole point,” Quinn says with a little laugh. “I want you to. Come on my fingers, Sweet Bea. Make a mess for me, give me something to lick up just like you did.”

Bea moans into his mouth when he kisses her a final time, the seal inside of Bea snapping and allowing endless shocks to overtake her body. He fingers her through her climax, laying kiss after kiss on her lips.

When she comes down, he withdraws his fingers and makes good on his promise. Quinn overexaggerates his satisfied hums and even rubs his stomach like her cum is the tastiest thing in the world, which has Bea throwing her head back in laughter and popping him good-naturedly on the head. She also tells him that he’s acting weird, which is when he chills out a bit.

Bea smiles fondly at Quinn as he cleans his fingers, fisting his t-shirt and pulling him closer, although her tugging really only results in rocking the hammock. They’re quick to fall asleep, with Quinn replacing Bea’s shorts and venturing out to get the blanket Honey left them. It keeps them nice and warm, legs still intertwined, for the entire night.

[thecomplicatedlynx]

Behind Closed Doors

Summary: He steal a moment knowing our time is limited before he has to go. Warning: 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: 1.3k

I hadn’t planned on stealing anyone’s attention today, least of all Jude’s.

I grabbed a last-minute coffee and took a brisk walk to the stadium to see my boyfriend before his match. But that afternoon, things quickly slipped out of control.

The café had been crowded, and in the midst of the rush, someone bumped into me, sending my latte flying down the front of my jersey—with the 'Bellingham 5' boldly printed on the back. I cursed under my breath. The dark stain sprawled across my chest.

“Not ideal,” I muttered, fishing my phone from my bag to text my friend.

I ducked into a friend’s apartment nearby and begged for something, or anything, to wear. The substitute wasn’t much better. A crop top that barely covered my chest, riding high enough to expose my ribs every time I moved, while the skirt rode high on my thighs, threatening to reveal more with every step. I was uncertain, but with Jude's match only less than an hour away, I didn’t have time to argue.

By the time I arrived at the stadium, I felt both rushed and completely out of place. I scanned the crowd with nervous glances as I tugged at the hem of the crop top, trying in vain to make it cover more skin. I could feel the fabric clinging to my figure, exposing my waist and legs.

And then I saw him.

Jude was standing near the players’ entrance, his earbuds in, scrolling through his phone. His tan skin seemed to glow under the afternoon sun, the muscles of his athletic frame visible even beneath the warm-up gear. His curly hair, slightly damp from the pre-match warm-up, framed his face perfectly, and his plump lips curved into a faint smirk as he read something on his screen.

I thought about turning back, but he was expecting me. I hesitated, biting my lip. Maybe I could just... text him instead?

Too late. His dark eyes locked onto mine, freezing me in place.

I tried to shrug casually, but the movement made the crop top ride up even further. Jude’s eyes followed the motion.

“What are you wearing?” Jude pulled out his earbuds, stepping toward me.

My breath hitched as his eyes traveled from my face to my exposed waist, to the curve of my hips, and back up to my nervous eyes.

“It’s not what it looks like—”

“It looks like you’re trying to drive me insane.” He stepped closer, the tension in his frame palpable. “My love, do you have any idea how you look right now?”

His hand shot out, wrapping gently around my wrist.

I wasn’t sure what I’d expected—maybe a lecture, maybe his usual overprotective grumbling. But not this. Not the way his hand gripped my wrist until I could feel the heat of his body against mine.

I thought he might scold me further, but instead, he pulled me closer, his voice dropping into a husky whisper. “You can't expect me to think straight with you walking around like this,” his breath hot against my ear.

“Jude,” I whispered, glancing around nervously.

We weren’t exactly alone, and his match was about to start—

“Come with me,” he said, his voice rough with urgency.

He guided me down a narrow hallway, away from the busy crowd and closer to the players’ tunnel.

“Jude, where are we going?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he opened a door to a small restroom, gently pulled me inside, and locking the door behind us.

The moment the latch clicked, he was on me. Jude pinned me against the cool tile wall. His hands slid down, one gripping my waist, the other lifting the hem of the crop top.

“Jude, please, I didn’t—”

But he cut me off, his thumb gently brushing over my exposed skin. “It’s not your fault,” he said, his voice low and almost pleading. “But damn, baby…”

His touch sent a shiver through me, and I couldn’t stop myself from leaning closer to him, the heat between us rising with every passing second.

He pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around my waist, his hands exploring the curves of my body as if trying to memorize every inch.

His lips hovered just above mine. And when he kissed me, it wasn’t gentle, it was raw, consuming, the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt about how much he wanted me.

I responded in kind, my hands running through his curly hair, feeling the soft tangle of his locks between my fingers as the kiss grew more urgent.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered against my lips, his voice a mix of frustration and desire.

My heart raced. “Jude, you have to be on the pitch in—”

“Fifteen minutes,” he finished, his grip tightening. “That’s enough time.”

His kisses trailed down my neck, his stubble grazing my skin.

My breath hitched as his lips found my collarbone, hot and insistent. “Jude—”

“Shh.” His hands moved higher, cupping my chest, his thumbs brushing over my sensitive skin.

I gasped. “We don’t have time,” I whispered, though my resolve was crumbling with every touch, every kiss.

“We’ll make time,” he murmured, his lips trailing down my chest.

My hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of his training jersey. I wasn’t sure if I was pulling him closer or grounding myself against the sheer force of his kiss.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his forehead resting against mine. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

“Jude, it’s just clothes—”

“It’s you,” he interrupted, “it’s always you. You looked like a dream, too tempting, too perfect, too much for me to leave behind.”

He knelt down, brushing my stomach with hasty kisses that made me tremble, before slipping his head under my skirt.

For a beat, neither of us spoke.

The world outside the restroom might as well have been galaxies away.

I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath. My eyes searched his face for answers I couldn’t put into words. My hair fell in soft waves around my shoulders. The crop top I wore clung to me in all the wrong—or perhaps right—places.

My laughter turned into a gasp as he lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist.

Every move he made was deliberate, swift but precise, as if we had to make every second count. It was quick, but expertly done, the kind of urgency that came from knowing our time was limited. My world narrowed to the feel of him, the heat of his touch, the way we murmured each other’s name like a prayer between kisses.

The clock ticked down, but for those few stolen minutes, nothing else mattered.

And then it was over, the two of us leaning against each other, our breaths intertwined in the quiet of the aftermath.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, adjusting my top, his tone softer now.

I smiled, pinching his nose. “And you’re late.”

He grinned, pressing one last kiss to my lips. “Worth it.”

When he pulled back, his gaze darted on mine, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip as though he didn’t want to let me go.

As I smoothed my hair, Jude pulled out his phone, sending a quick text.

“What are you doing?” I asked, straightening my skirt.

“Someone’s bringing you a jacket,” he tucked his phone away. “You’re distracting enough as it is,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I don’t need every guy in the stadium looking at you.”

I raised a brow, half amused, half exasperated. “You’re unbelievable.”

His hand traced along the side of my face. “And you’re irresistible.”

With that, he slipped out of the restroom, leaving me to collect myself and wait for the jacket that would undoubtedly be oversized, warm, and one hundred percent Jude.

[sarushka-01]

hi. I exist and came to serve more fluff with pretty hsr men (this time it’s our one and only silly gambler dude, aven ♡)

gn reader as always here!

Waking up everyday to the sight of your lover cuddling into you is probably the best thing that has ever happened to you. The warm light shining down onto you two through the curtains, the quiet morning with no sound of alarm ringing.

You blink once, twice, to wake your eyes up. When your vision finally stops being blurry from your sleep, you register something - a bunch of messy blond locks stuffed into your face. It smells nice and it’s fluffy, sure, but it really tickles your cheeks. You try to wriggle out of this weird position you’re in, only to be yanked back into your place by a hand

“Good morning…?” you whisper, somehow unsure if the one next to you is awake (as if what just happened wasn’t the proof).

“No” Aventurine mumbles and leans into your touch more, as if you were about to disappear into thin air. You chuckle quietly at this and prop yourself up on your free arm to kiss his cheek. You notice how a faint smile creeps its way onto his lips, yet his eyes are still closed - as if trying to fool you into believing that he’s asleep (you both know he’s now 100% awake).

“Wake up, sun’s already up” you try again and earn a quiet groan from the man. He shifts under the duvet, his golden hair disappearing and reappearing moments later. This time he’s facing you, eyes squinted to let in as little light as possible. You smile; his eyes are one of your favourite things to look at, and to see him in a situation like that is a sight to behold.

“That doesn’t mean we need to as well, does it?” Before you can answer, he adds “besides, it’s comfy in here. And you can’t argue, it is rare for us to be able to wake up like this, together. You could reward me on my day off and let me sleep longer, [name].”

For a moment, you’re not sure what answer to come up with - after all, he is right. Situations like these don’t happen often and you should savour them as much as you can. But not when it’s… wait, what system time exactly is it?

Before you manage to even turn around to check, Aventurine cups your cheek at stares at you with so much intensity behind those pretty eyes of his, as if his life depended on it. (Quite funny how it’s just another morning; nothing less, nothing more.)

“Don’t. Just, focus on me right now. You’re not in a rush, so why the hurry?” Something in his voice stops you in your tracks, and for a split second you’re just staring at him with wide eyes. He chuckles at that expression, bringing you closer to him and kissing your forehead. You melt into that warmth, suddenly hyperaware of your surroundings, of the sun’s rays you don’t really want to accept yet, of the comfortable position you found yourself in, of the softness of Aventurine’s lips, and most importantly, of Aventurine himself.

You sigh, half in defeat, half in relief, as you slide one of your hands underneath the silky fabric of his shirt and placing it on his bare back, cold fingers meeting warm skin. He shivers just slightly, but doesn’t push you away. Instead, he leans in closer, chin resting atop your head.

You move in a little, until your lips are mere inches away from his neck and your breath’s tickling him. You place a kiss on that burn mark, the commodity code that stings, yet the blonde sighs at that feeling, as if content.

“You smell nice” you manage to whisper into his skin before drifting back to the dreamland, this time in your lover’s gentle embrace.

[4vanaa]

WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING, rafe cameron, 09

summary: y/n left the outer banks years ago, determined to build a life far from the memories of her childhood love, rafe cameron. now a botanist, she's moved on-though a quiet part of her still clings to the past. when an event brings her back to OBX, she's forced to confront the one person she never truly forgot.

cw: fluff, mature themes | masterlist | 08 | 10 |

❀ ❀ ❀ - indication that the chapter takes place in the past!!

a/n: this chapter takes place before chapters 7,8, and 10.

❀ ❀ ❀

Rafe was never subtle when it came to you. His hands, his lips, the way his eyes lingered on you even in a crowded room—it was like he didn’t care who noticed, as long as you felt what he couldn’t always say.

It started with a lazy summer afternoon on his boat, anchored far from shore where no one could find you. The sun was dipping low, casting the world in hues of orange and pink, and the only sound was the soft lapping of waves and the occasional squawk of a distant seagull.

You sat across from him, legs tucked beneath you, the hem of your sundress swaying in the breeze. He was leaning back against the railing, a beer in his hand, watching you with a look that made your skin flush under his gaze.

“You keep staring at me like that, Cameron, and I’m gonna start charging you,” you teased, taking a sip from your water bottle.

He smirked, setting his beer down. “Oh, I’m more than willing to pay up.”

Before you could respond, he was moving, crossing the small space between you in just a few steps. His hands were on your waist, tugging you up and into him, and then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was anything but soft. His mouth moved against yours with a hunger that made your head spin, his hands gripping your hips like he couldn’t get close enough. You gasped against his lips, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that left you breathless.

“Rafe,” you managed to whisper when he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours.

“Hmm?” His voice was low, rough, as his hands slid up your sides, bunching your dress slightly.

“We’re supposed to be relaxing,” you teased, though your voice came out shakier than you intended.

“I am relaxed,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “This is me relaxed.”

“Liar,” you said, laughing softly, but the sound turned into a soft gasp as his lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there.

“You’re the one who’s distracting me,” he muttered against your skin, his hands now sliding down to grip your thighs, pulling you even closer. “How am I supposed to think about anything else when you’re sitting there looking like that?”

Then there were the stolen moments—like when he cornered you in the Cameron kitchen one evening, the sound of the TV drifting from the living room where Ward and Rose were watching a movie.

“Rafe,” you hissed as he pressed you against the counter, his body crowding yours. “Your dad is right there.”

“Don’t care,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

“Rafe—”

Whatever protest you were about to make disappeared as his mouth found yours, his hands sliding beneath your shirt to rest against your bare skin. His kiss was searing, making your knees go weak as you gripped his shoulders for balance.

“You’re insane,” you managed to gasp when he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours.

“Insane about you,” he said, grinning.

These were the moments that defined your time with Rafe—the heat, the passion, the way he made you feel like you were the center of his universe. In his arms, the rest of the world faded away, and for a little while, everything was perfect.

You were stretched out on the beach blanket, the sun warming your skin, when Rafe flopped down beside you, scattering sand everywhere.

“Do you mind?” you said, glaring at him through your sunglasses.

“Not at all,” he replied smugly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. His hair was a mess, salty and windswept, and he was grinning in that way that always made your heart skip a beat.

He reached over, plucking the sunglasses off your face. “You’re hiding those pretty eyes from me again, sunshine.”

“Maybe because I don’t want you staring at me all day,” you teased, trying to grab them back, but he held them out of reach.

“Too bad,” he said, leaning in closer. “Because I could look at you forever.”

“Rafe Cameron, you’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, his grin widening. “But I’m your ridiculous.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling too. He leaned in and kissed you—soft, slow, and sweet, the kind of kiss that made you forget the rest of the world existed.

The mornings were your favorite, though you’d never admit it to him. Especially the ones where he was already awake, sprawled out in bed beside you, his hair a mess and his face soft with sleep.

“Stop staring,” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep as you buried your face in the pillow.

“Can’t help it,” he said, his voice still raspy. “You’re too cute when you’re drooling on the pillow.”

“I do not drool,” you shot back, glaring at him.

“Sure you don’t,” he teased, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple.

You swatted at him, but he just laughed, catching your hand and lacing his fingers with yours. “C’mon,” he said, his voice soft. “Let’s stay here all day.”

“And what, starve to death?”

“I’d die happy,” he said with a smirk, pulling you closer.

Even the quiet moments felt like magic with him. Like the time you were sprawled out on the couch together, your head resting on his chest as he absentmindedly played with your hair.

“You know you’re my favorite person, right?” he said suddenly, his voice soft.

“Obviously,” you teased, though your cheeks warmed at his words.

“I mean it,” he said, tilting your chin up so you were looking at him. “You’re everything to me.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you kissed him instead.

a/n: this takes place before any of the other angst bc i just wanted some fluff. also to @harrys-housewife i didn’t know how to reply directly to the tags on your reblogs. but thank you x1000 for always supporting my work, and leaving comments and feedback. i can’t even begin to explain how much it means to me 🥹

tags: @xoxo-ada @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @sleepiibunniiii @urbrunettebombshell @sideboobrry11 @marleymarleymarleymarley @acidfeens

[webco-dawnn]

Winter Hc!!

~ Here are just some fun hcs about what I think the Haikyuu boys would do with you during the winter. This post isn't categorized into teams unlike my other posts, but instead just a jumble of headcanons, so I hope you enjoy! (this includes Kenma Kozume, Osamu Miya, Tsukishima Kei, Bokuto Kotarou, Oikawa Tooru.)

꒰ ୨ ୧ ◞ 。Kenma⠀.ᐟ 🐈

╭ ; Kenma normally isn't one to go out. So, now with winter rolling in, it actually gives him an excuse not to go outside without the nagging voice of his friends telling him he could be using his valuable time practicing or that he needs some sun since he is pretty pale, afterall. Though he'd probably just stay in his room all day, buried under many blankets and wearing a bunch of layered clothing to warm him up.

When you come over, he doesn't really react. He greets you with a, "hey," flashing a gentle smile before focusing back on his game. You sit down next to him, and that's when he folds. He leans over, laying his head on your shoulder or your chest, eyes glued to the screen in front of him. If you comment on how close he's gotten he'll just say, "it's cold. You're warm. Use your brain." Though his tone held no actual bite of aggression in it.

He'll let you look over his shoulder to watch him play and eventually inch closer to you as the day goes on, until he's fully in your lap, your arms around his waist. There hasn't been a single word uttered ever since Kenma told you you were warm, but it was nice. It was a comfortable silence between the two of you that never got old. Well, silent except for the music and sound effects coming from the Nintendo held between Kenma's hands.

꒰ ୨ ୧ ◞ 。Osamu⠀.ᐟ 🍙

╭ ; You beg to come over to his house, claiming it's "too cold" in yours. Osamu tries to discourage you by telling you that his annoying twin, Atsumu, will be there as well since he has no plans today, or the fact that Osamu hasn't taken a shower yet or done his laundry. He was only trying to discourage you from coming over because.. well, Atsumu was home.. he didn't want his twin brother to see how different he was in front of his significant other. But after some more begging, you finally convince your beloved boyfriend to let you come over.

When you arrive, Osamu's already got hot chocolate made for you, handing it to you after you take your shoes off. Osamu makes some good hot chocolate, which is also another reason why you wanted to come over today. After you've finished the hot drink, he asks if you want to bake cookies with him. He has enough ingredients and a shit ton of free time, so why not?

In the process, you both get flour on your faces and in your hair, cookie dough all over your hands, and stains on both yours and Osamu's cheeks from the handful of chocolate chips you two ate.

꒰ ୨ ୧ ◞ 。Tsukishima⠀.ᐟ 🍋

╭ ; You wake up to a text from Tsukishima, telling you to be ready by 11 AM with no other information. It definitely confused you, but you're used to it since Tsukishima always texted you random things like this with no other information provided.

At 11, he picks you up and, surprise, he brought you two to an ice skating rink. You had been ranting about wanting to go for a while but not wanting to go alone, so Tsukishima took this as his cue to take you ice skating.

On the rink, Tsukishima is definitely a different person. Unlike you with your carefully calculated moves, perfect, careful, precise, Tsukishima is a wobbling mess. He has an iron grip on your bicep, not even daring to separate from you for a minute. He wasn't good at ice skating at all..

Anytime you'd laugh, he'd look up at you, saying, "It's not funny." but you couldn't really take him seriously with just how cute he looked with his red cheeks and nose.

꒰ ୨ ୧ ◞ 。Bokuto⠀.ᐟ 🦉

╭ ; The energetic owl shows up at your door at about noon, a box in his hand. You obviously let the boy in, watching as he took off his shoes before quickly walking over to the kitchen counter and setting the box down. Before you could even question anything, why he's here, (not that you're complaining, just curious) what the box was, you then read the front of the box and figured out that Bokuto was here with the intention of making a gingerbread house with you.

And so the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon making the gingerbread house. The contruction part of it ended about an hour ago, but you two were still working on the decorations of the house. It didn't look the best.. but it was fun. Talking to Bokuto while making the dessert was more than enough of a perfect day for you.

It was about 2 PM when you two finally finished, two hours after you guys had started. You look over to see Bokuto with icing all over his hands, and even some in his hair, along with small candies sticking to his fingers due to the icing. It made you chuckle. You wouldn't trade this for the world.

꒰ ୨ ୧ ◞ 。Oikawa⠀.ᐟ 🌀

╭ ; You weren't surprised when you opened your phone to 12 unread messages from Oikawa, begging you to come over to his house since he was just "So cold without you." You sigh, slipping your phone back into your pocket. You felt no real annoyance toward the boy, you could never feel annoyed with him. You get ready to go to his house before he starts whining even more.

When you get there, Oikawa's face immediately lights up with a wide smile, pulling you close and kissing you all over your face. Many, many kisses littered on your lips and cheeks. After he finished attacking you with his love, he allowed you to come inside. He told you how his parents weren't home before suggesting to rewatch a movie he loved, one you've watched with him about 10 times now. You agreed, but he suddenly changed his mind and suddenly started making tons of snacks.

after 20 minutes, you two finally settle down on the couch, Oikawa's head lying in your lap with a blanket over top of him and on top of your lap. An array of snacks lay on the table as the movie started.

[lottins-only]

CROSS THE LINE II | Jude Bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader, unnamed fictional RM player x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: after a fallout with your boyfriend, you find solace in a spontaneous night at the movies, where you run into his golden boy teammate. one thing leads to another and you cross the line. what happens next?

A/N: happy holidays yall 🥳 lmk what you guys think!! <3

warnings: infidelity (once again, i don't condone it. 🫣), non explicit smut

PART ONE

before all of this, you’d always imagined an affair as something out of a movie: clandestine meetings, tensions running high, stolen moments, secret rendezvous. but in reality, it’s messier, quieter. it’s second guessing yourself every step of the way, staring at your reflection and admitting you’re a horrible person time and time again, and then doing it anyway. 

it doesn’t start with a bang, no dramatic explosion of passion. after the night at the cinema, things unfold slowly. you text every single day for weeks, conversations ranging from the mundane to the deep. you learn about each other, piece by piece. and jude, you realize, is like quicksand. the more you discover, the deeper you sink. he’s too funny, too kind, too good. unfairly handsome, and somehow better for it.

he has an uncanny way of making you unravel. of making you open up so easily that sometimes you don't notice it's happening. you, usually reserved and guarded, find yourself sharing without hesitation. you suppose its the way there's no judgement from him, no disinterest or impatience.

and then there’s the way he lets you in. with every detail he shares, every message, he pulls you in like a magnet you can’t resist. he tells you about the running joke he’s had with his best friend for years, humor inexplicable to anyone but the two of them. the trivial argument he had with his brother that was inconsequential but still annoying enough to stick in his mind. his new favorite song, sent with a note about how it makes him feel. formative memories he’ll never forget, now shared with you. it’s as though he’s placing his heart on a silver platter, daring you: know me. know me and want me.  

and you do. want him, that is.

that’s the exact reason why you find yourself in his bed one afternoon. 

his room is dimly lit, the curtains drawn against the waning sun. you sit on the edge of the bed, your hands twisting in your lap, nerves running high. jude sits beside you, eyes locked on yours, searching for the final hint of hesitation. a sign that you might leave. but you don’t move. you can’t.

when he leans in, his fingers brushing against your cheek, it feels inevitable. of course you’re here, with him. where else would you be? his touch is warm, grounding, and when his lips finally meet yours, it feels like everything that’s ever happened in the world has led to this moment.

his hands find your waist, sliding under your shirt as the kiss deepens. his touch is firm and warm, yet capable of sending shivers down your spine. you don’t stop him when he pulls your shirt over your head or when his lips trail down your neck, leaving your skin tingling.

 “what are we doing?” you murmur almost to yourself as he bites on a sensitive spot. 

jude pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and full of desire, but there’s something else there too: something deeper, more vulnerable. 

“whatever you want” he says, his voice low, his hand grazing your cheek tenderly. “i want this. i want you”

you nod wordlessly, and the rest happens in a blur. his weight presses you into the mattress, his skin warm under your fingertips as you trace the muscles of his back. he kisses you like he can’t help himself, and you kiss him back just as desperately. plush lips and calloused hands taking their liberties, roaming all over your body, eliciting sounds and sensations you’ve never experienced with anyone else. you don’t hold back either, not when his golden brown skin is all yours to explore, to kiss, to bite. to revel in. 

he moves against you, his hands gripping your hips as you arch into him. there’s nothing slow or tentative about it now. his movements are purposeful and you meet him with equal attention . when he finally pushes inside you, you let out a rush of breath, almost like a sigh of relief. it’s overwhelming, the way he fits perfectly inside of you, the way it feels familiar and routine, like he’s done this a hundred times before. 

the room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the creak of the mattress as he rhythmically thrusts into you, his low murmurs against your skin that range from curses to your name to soft groans. your nails dig into his back, and he doesn’t flinch, only moves harder, deeper, his focus entirely on you. “you feel so perfect, so good” he whispers, like its a confession he’s been waiting to make for the longest time. 

you don’t think about the guilt or the consequences. there’s only jude, the way he feels, the way he moves. for now, that’s all that matters.

afterwards, you lie in bed, your head on his chest, his hand softly grazing your now frizzy curls. his heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, a comforting sound. 

“so,” you say, breaking the silence as you trace his chiseled chest with your finger. “you won’t believe what happened at work today. this guy left his mic on during a teams meeting and got caught badmouthing our boss.”

jude’s chest vibrates beneath you as he laughs silently. “no way. what did he say?”

you tell the story, and he listens intently, chuckling softly. you think two things: first, never in your life did you imagine having pillow talk with jude bellingham. and second, the knowledge that you made him laugh gives you such a rush of serotonin you want do it over and over again.

seasons change, your situation doesn’t. months go by and jude and you are sneaking around. no one knows, not even your closest friend or your mother– people who know you better than anyone, people who love and accept the parts of you that you consider deeply embarrassing and shameful. you don’t share this, because it’s different. this secret is well and truly a condemnation of your character. but that doesn’t mean you want to stop.  

you find yourself at a real madrid christmas party one evening. you’re there with your boyfriend, of course. the man who feels more and more like a stranger as the days go by. the man in whose phone, just last night, you’d found incriminating dms with an instagram model. it hadn’t fazed you. after all, you were doing the same.

you sip on a glass of champagne, watching jude from across the room. he’s in his element, charming everyone from the staff to the players to the wags. his laugh carries over to where you’re standing, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering at the sound. 

and yet, despite all the mingling, he hasn’t approached you.

you hate yourself for keeping track, but you’ve noticed. he’s made his rounds, talking to everyone, making small talk that leaves people grinning. but you? not a glance, not a word. it’s like you’re invisible.

you can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as you watch a group of wags giggling at something he says, leaning in closer as if trying to soak up his presence. your nails dig into the stem of your glass, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“you okay?” your boyfriend asks, his hand resting lightly on your lower back. you must be having a very visible reaction for even him to notice.

“fine” you lie, forcing a smile. don’t touch me, is what you really want to say.

you’re not fine though. not as you steal another glance at jude, who’s now leaning against the bar, talking to vini. he looks relaxed, like he hasn’t a care in the world, like he doesn’t feel the tension that’s suffocating you.

you tell yourself it’s better this way. no one is gonna suspect anything if he avoids you. but still, it stings.

and then, as if he senses your eyes on him, he finally looks your way. the moment is brief, a flicker of recognition  before he looks away quickly, returning his attention to vini like nothing happened.

the champagne in your glass suddenly feels too heavy, and you set it down on the nearest table before excusing yourself to the restroom.

Inside the rest room, you splash cold water on your face, hoping it will calm the heat in your chest, the ache in your gut. but it doesn’t.

the sound of the restroom door opening makes you freeze. you glance up and flinch when you see jude.he steps inside, shutting the door quietly behind him, his eyes locking on yours immediately.

you watch silently as he leans back against the door, his hands shoved into the pockets of his suit pants. he looks calm but his jaw is visibly clenched. 

“you’ve been avoiding me” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

“i had to” he replies, his voice low. “you know why”

you do know why. but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“you talked to everyone in that room except me” you continue, voice sharper than you expect. “it’s like i don’t even exist to you”

“you think i wanted to ignore you? do you know how hard it is to be in the same room as you and pretend like–” he cuts himself off, hands rubbing the back of his neck.

“pretend like what?” 

“like i don’t want you,” he says, the words coming out in a rush. “like i don’t think about you all the time. like i’m not going crazy knowing you’re here with him”

“then why avoid me?” you ask, your voice trembling.

“because if i talked to you” he says, stepping even closer. “if i got too close, i don’t know if i could stop myself”

your lips meet just then, as if drawn together like magnets. you kiss fiercely, desperately. his hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him. you can taste the sweet champagne on his lips, can feel the heat from his warm hands. when you pull away, you’re breathless, but you feel renewed. like touching him made up for the fact that you had to put up with your boyfriend for the whole evening. 

“i’m breaking up with him tonight” you blurt. “I found out he’s been cheating”

“what an asshole” jude says without skipping a beat.

you laugh bitterly as you adjust the top of his turtleneck. “i’m doing the same thing”

jude smirks. “yeah, bit hypocritical isn’t it?” he says, and you both burst out laughing, the sound echoing loudly in the bathroom. 

you sit with it for a bit, the weight of your actions settling in between you two, both of you knowing what an awful thing you’re doing. you, to someone who’s been a partner of yours for some time. him, to his teammate who he doesn’t particularly like, but still owes some loyalty to, some obligation of decency.

“i don’t regret it” he says quietly, as if reading your thoughts. he grabs your hand and enterwines your fingers.  “i don’t regret any of it”

“me too” you murmur. and you mean it. 

that night, you keep your word and dump your boyfriend. it's an anti climactic ending, both of you mentally checked out of the relationship in the end to even care. still, you feel the weight lifting off your shoulder. good riddance.

that's how an affair with your boyfriend’s teammate unfolds and then ends. if you’re wondering how a relationship with your ex’s teammate begins, here it is: first, you scrub any trace of your previous relationship off the internet (you were always pretty private anyway). then, you gaslight everyone who knows all three of you into believing the relationship was never that serious, so what's the harm if you're seeing the other guy now? stranger things have happened. thankfully said ex-boyfriend conveniently leaves the team and the country at the end of the season, so it makes things easier for you. third step is to keep a careful distance from your new man in public for several months to maintain the illusion that there was no overlap with your past... relationship? situationship? or was it friendship? we’ll never know. finally, hard launch on a sunny afternoon at one of your favorite cafes in madrid, on a random wednesday in late summer. that’s how you do it.

so here you are, seated across from each other. you sip on a latte; jude’s having tea. he’s just come back from an adidas shoot, and he’s exhausted, you can tell by the tired smile on his face and by the way his body is slouched slightly in his chair. the only expression of affection he can muster is the soft brush of his leg against yours under the table. 

you chat about the book you’re currently reading, how the price of pastries in the cafe are atrociously high. yet again, you marvel at how easy it is with him. talking, laughing, slipping into comfortable silences. its like you’ve known him for years. 

“someone’s taking a pic” he nods towards someone behind you. you don’t look back, just smile softly. “going according to plan” he murmurs, taking a sip of his tea. 

you’re silent, thinking about how luckly you are, to have him, to be with him. you continue to chat, and now you’re on the topic of the show you’re watching. jude confesses he watched an episode without you on the plane back from an away game, and you gasp indignantly, kicking his leg under the table. 

“ow” he mutters. “i couldn’t sleep!”

“you couldn't watch anything else?” you say, dabbing at a coffee stain that had tainted the sleeve of your shirt. When you look up, jude’s looking at you with such a tender look on his face that you want to look away. 

“what?” you say, half self consciously. 

“nothing” he grins. “its just that you’re so beautiful. everytime i look at you it gets better”

your stomach is immediately filled with butterflies, and all you can do is grin back at him shyly, cheeks heating up from his words. sometimes being with him feels like you’re on a rollercoaster ride, in a good way. except the rush you get is from basking in his warmth, in his love, in his presence. 

needless to say it was all worth it in the end. thank god for late night cinema trips. 

[crossfandomskylines]

In the Space Between: Chapter 18

OTHER CHAPTERS:

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5

Chapter 6 I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 I Chapter 10

Chapter 11 I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15

Chapter 16 I Chapter 17

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: Glen and Gabby savor their long-awaited reunion, starting with a cozy coffee date where they reconnect over laughter and conversation. Back at Gabby’s apartment, Glen convinces her to focus on studying while he tackles some of her chores, finding joy in the normalcy of helping her. Their playful banter takes a turn when Gabby tries to stop him from folding laundry, leading to a lighthearted wrestling match that ends with them tangled together on the bed.

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut (Light hair pulling. Protected Sex. P in V.) I promise one day I'll right more interesting smut but I'm still new to writing smut so keeping it simple for now.

A/N: Please continue to let me know what you think with Hearts, Comments, and Reblogs! Also if you'd like to be tagged please let me know, and I will get you added to the tag list!

The sun was warm but not stifling as Glen and Gabby strolled down the quiet street toward her favorite coffee shop. The hum of the city filled the air—cars passing, a faint honk in the distance, and the occasional bark of a dog being walked by its owner. Gabby felt the corners of her mouth tug upward every time she glanced sideways at Glen. He was here, walking next to her, his hand brushing hers occasionally as they moved in sync. She had to resist the urge to pinch herself, still half-convinced this was all some vivid dream.

“You’re staring,” Glen said, his voice soft and teasing.

She glanced up at him and shrugged lightly. “I just… I can’t believe you’re here. This doesn’t feel real.”

Glen chuckled, and before she could pull her hand away, he caught it in his, lacing their fingers together. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s real, Gabby. I’m here. And I’ve missed you like crazy. I had a small break in filming today and tomorrow and I knew that there wasn’t any other way I wanted to spend it.”

Her chest tightened, and she squeezed his hand back, not trusting herself to speak without her voice breaking.

When they reached the coffee shop, the warm scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods enveloped them like a hug. Gabby led the way to a cozy table in the corner, tucked away from the bustling counter. Glen pulled out her chair before taking the one across from her, leaning his forearms on the table as if closing the small space between them even more.

“This place is cute,” he said, glancing around at the mismatched wooden furniture and chalkboard menu above the counter.

“It’s my go-to,” Gabby said, scanning the menu. “The tea here is great, and they make this avocado toast  that’s ridiculously good. I’ve heard the coffee is good too, but you know how I feel about coffee.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Glen said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair. “Though I think I’d eat just about anything if it meant I could sit here with you.”

Gabby rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t suppress the blush creeping up her neck. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his grin widening.

When their food arrived—Gabby’s avocado toast and Glen’s bacon-and-egg sandwich—they dug in, the conversation flowing easily between bites. They talked about everything and nothing: Gabby’s classes, Glen’s time on set, and the small moments they had missed sharing during their weeks apart.

At one point, Glen reached across the table, brushing his thumb over her knuckles as he held her hand. “You know,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear, “I could sit here forever. Just talking to you.”

Her heart swelled, and she blinked back the tears threatening to form before taking another bite of her toast.

The walk back to Gabby’s apartment was slower, more leisurely. The comfortable silence between them was occasionally broken by Glen pointing out little things he noticed—the dog trotting by with its tongue lolling out, a family laughing on the steps of a brownstone, or the way the autumn leaves scattered across the sidewalk seemed to crunch louder underfoot. Gabby didn’t mind the quiet; it felt natural, like they were slipping back into a rhythm she hadn’t realized she missed so much.

When they reached her apartment, she unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside so Glen could enter first. He barely made it two steps inside before a flash of orange fur darted toward him.

“Willow!” Gabby called, half in surprise, half in amusement.

The orange tabby cat skidded to a halt at Glen’s feet, her fluffy tail held high as she circled him. She gave a loud, insistent meow, then rubbed herself against his legs, purring like a tiny engine.

“Well, hey there,” Glen said, crouching down to her level. He reached out cautiously, but Willow wasn’t shy. She nuzzled into his hand, practically shoving her head into his palm as though she couldn’t get enough attention.

Gabby stood frozen in the doorway, watching the interaction with a mix of disbelief and humor. “She… she never does that.”

Glen glanced up at her, his hand still gently scratching behind the cat’s ears. “I mean I’m kind of her favorite. Didn’t you say she’s basically claimed my shirt as hers?”

The cat responded with another loud purr, pressing her face into his knee.

Gabby shook her head, a grin spreading across her face as she closed the door and leaned against it. “She’s really laying it on thick. I think she likes you more than me right now.”

Glen chuckled, standing back up as Willow weaved between his ankles. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”

Gabby rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t deny how much the sight warmed her heart. Willow was usually content to observe people from a distance, barely tolerating affection on her own terms.

Glen scooped up the cat effortlessly. Willow settled into his arms like she’d been there a thousand times, her head resting lazily against his chest.

Gabby’s heart ached in the best way as she watched them. How was it possible that he could make her fall for him even more just by holding her cat?

When Glen caught her staring, he gave her a knowing smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, though the warmth in her cheeks betrayed her. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all.”

He walked over, still holding Willow, and gave her a teasing grin. “What, you didn’t think I was a cat person?”

“No, it’s not that. I just didn’t think Willow was an anyone cat,” she shot back.

“Well, I guess we’re full of surprises today,” he said softly, brushing his lips against her forehead.

Willow gave a soft chirp, seemingly annoyed at being ignored, and Glen chuckled. “Alright, alright, I’ll put you down. You’re a little attention hog, aren’t you?”

As he set the cat down, she trotted off to her favorite spot on the windowsill, leaving Glen and Gabby alone again.

“Speaking of pets, where’s Brisket?” Gabby asked noticing that Glen hadn’t mentioned him and the dog clearly wasn’t with him.

“Les is watching him for me. Wasn’t sure what our plans would be…or how much attention he’d get. So she offered to take him until I fly out tomorrow.” Glen explained before changing the subject. “So what were your plans for the day?” he asked, glancing at the stack of textbooks and notebooks on the coffee table.

Gabby sighed. “Nothing exciting. I was going to study for a bit, maybe do some laundry, vacuum, and tidy up. The usual. But now…”

“But now?”

“Now?” she repeated, leaning back against the door and giving him a shy smile. “Now, I just want to spend time with you.”

His expression softened, and he closed the space between them, placing his hands gently on her hips. “I want to spend time with you too,” he said, his voice a low murmur, “but I don’t want you to fall behind because I showed up.”

“Glen-” she started, shaking her head.

“Listen,” he interrupted, his hands tightening ever so slightly. “How about this. You study for half an hour, and I’ll take care of some of the chores. Then we’ll have the rest of the day to do whatever you want.”

Her eyes widened, and she laughed softly. “You’re serious?”

“Absolutely.” His grin was teasing but sincere. 

“You want to spend your day off doing my chores?”

“It’s only for half an hour,” he reasoned. “Besides I like doing stuff like that. It makes me feel… normal, you know?”

Gabby tilted her head, studying him. “You’re really okay with it?”

“Gabby,” he said, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers, “if it makes your life a little easier and gives us more time together, I’m more than okay with it.”

Her chest ached with the kind of gratitude that made her eyes sting. She nodded. “Okay. But only if you let me help after I’m done studying.”

“We’ll see,” he teased, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before stepping back. “Now, go. Books. Study. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Gabby smiled as she grabbed her textbooks and settled onto the couch, the sound of Glen rummaging in the kitchen grounding her in the moment. For the first time in weeks, everything felt right again.

Thirty minutes later the timer on Gabby’s phone buzzed softly, marking the end of her self-imposed study session. She closed her notebook with a sigh of relief, glad to escape the dry material she’d been slogging through.

“Half an hour exactly,” she muttered to herself with a grin, stretching her arms overhead as she stood. She tucked her books neatly back onto the shelf and wandered down the hallway toward her bedroom, curious to see what Glen had gotten himself into.

The sight that greeted her made her stop in her tracks and lean against the doorway with an incredulous smile. Glen was standing by her bed, a neatly folded stack of her laundry already on the corner, and another shirt in his hands that he was methodically folding.

“Glen,” she called out, crossing her arms as she stepped inside. “What are you doing?”

He glanced up at her, completely unbothered. “Folding laundry.”

She rolled her eyes, though the amusement in her voice was unmistakable. “You don’t have to do that. All I needed you to do was load the dishwasher. I can do all this once you leave.”

“I know,” he replied casually, shaking out another shirt and folding it with practiced ease. “But I want to.”

“Seriously,” she insisted, walking closer and trying to take the shirt from his hands. “You’ve done enough already. Let me finish it later.”

“Nope,” Glen said, stepping to the side and holding the shirt just out of her reach.

“Glen!” she exclaimed, laughing as she tried to grab it again.

He grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “What? I’m just being helpful.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to swipe at the shirt, but he easily lifted it higher.

“Am I?” he teased, his voice light as he dodged her attempts to snatch it.

“Yes!” she said, giggling as she lunged for him. This time, she grabbed his arm in an effort to pull him down, but he was too strong, his stance too steady. Instead, he turned the tables, gently catching her wrist and spinning her around so that her back was to him.

“Careful,” he murmured in her ear, his voice dropping to a playful growl.

Gabby felt her heart skip at the proximity, her laughter trailing off into a breathless chuckle. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, releasing her wrist only to scoop her up with ease.

“Glen!” she yelped as he carried her the few steps to the bed, depositing her onto the mattress like she weighed nothing at all. Before she could sit up, he leaned over her, pinning her wrists gently to the bed.

“Say it,” he said, his grin wide and victorious.

“Say what?” she shot back, her voice a mix of mock indignation and delight.

“That I win,” he said, his tone teasing but his eyes locked on hers, warm and full of affection.

Gabby raised a brow, refusing to back down despite the fluttering in her chest. “Never.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re so stubborn.”

“And you’re—” Whatever retort she’d been about to make was lost as he leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was firm yet achingly tender.

Gabby’s resolve melted instantly, her body relaxing beneath him as she kissed him back. His hands released her wrists, one sliding down to cup her cheek while the other braced against the mattress to support his weight.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his breath warm against her lips. “You were saying?” he murmured, his grin returning.

She let out a soft laugh, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Fine. You win.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said, his voice low and satisfied. He brushed his lips against hers once more, lingering as if neither of them wanted the moment to end.

Gabby sighed contentedly, her earlier protests forgotten as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down beside her. The laundry could wait. For now, she just wanted to stay wrapped up in him.

Glen’s lips coaxed hers apart, his tongue sliding inside to explore with a slow, deliberate heat that made her heart race.

Gabby let out a soft, involuntary sigh, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as if she needed to anchor herself.

Just as she thought she couldn’t handle another second of the delicious pressure of his mouth on hers, Glen pulled back slightly, his breath warm against her damp lips. Before she could protest, he began to brush his lips along her jawline, each soft kiss igniting tiny sparks that raced down her spine.

“Glen…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling with anticipation.

He didn’t answer, at least not right away. Instead, his mouth found the sensitive curve of her neck, his lips warm and soft against her skin. Gabby gasped quietly as his teeth scraped lightly, his tongue soothing the spot before he began to suck gently. It wasn’t hard enough to leave a mark—Glen knew better—but it was enough to send a shiver cascading through her body.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured against her neck, his voice low and husky, filled with a raw honesty that made her chest ache. His hand slid along her side, his touch warm and grounding, yet it only heightened the heat pooling in her stomach. “You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.”

His words sent a surge of confidence coursing through Gabby. She tilted her head back to look at him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining with need. For a moment, she just stared at him, taking in the way his eyes burned with the same longing that was consuming her.

“Then take me,” she said, her voice soft but steady, laced with a newfound boldness that left Glen momentarily stunned.

His gaze darkened, his jaw tightening as a slow, almost predatory smile spread across his lips. “Careful what you ask for,” he warned, though the teasing lilt in his tone only made her more sure of herself.

“I mean it,” she replied, her fingers threading through his hair and pulling him closer. “I’m yours, Glen. Just… take me.”

Glen’s hands slid under Gabby’s shirt, his palms warm and calloused against her bare skin. He moved slowly, deliberately, as if savoring every second of the moment. His fingers brushed over her ribs, making her shiver before he gently pushed the fabric up. Gabby raised her arms without hesitation, letting him pull the shirt over her head and toss it somewhere behind him.

His gaze dropped to her, and the way his eyes darkened made her stomach flip. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with awe and something deeper, something more primal.

Gabby felt her cheeks flush under his intense stare, but before she could get too self-conscious, Glen reached for the hem of his own shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion.

Her breath hitched as her eyes roamed over him, taking in the changes she hadn’t expected. The last time they’d been together, his chest had been smooth, but now, a fine dusting of hair covered his chest and trailed down to his abs, accentuating the defined lines of his body.

Her fingers reached out instinctively, tracing the new texture with curiosity. She let her palm glide over his chest, down to his stomach, where the muscle flexed beneath her touch. The sensation was different, but not unwelcome—it was grounding, a reminder of how much she’d missed him and how time hadn’t dulled their connection.

Glen watched her, his lips quirking into a soft smile. “Like what you see?” he teased, his voice low and edged with amusement.

Gabby glanced up at him, her hand still resting on his chest. She nodded, her lips curving into a shy smile before her confidence surged again. “I do,” she said honestly, tugging him gently back down to her. “Makes you more rugged.”

Their lipsthen met in a kiss that was hungrier this time, fueled by the heat building between them. His hands moved to cradle her face, holding her close as he poured everything he couldn’t say into the kiss.

Gabby’s hands slid up his chest and over his shoulders, her fingers curling around the nape of his neck as she pulled him even closer. The world around them disappeared again, and all that mattered was this—being together, feeling each other, and making up for every second they’d spent apart.

Glen’s lips moved across Gabby’s skin, lingering at her collarbone before he kissed his way back up to her mouth. Each touch of his lips sent shivers down her spine, igniting a fire that had been building since the moment he walked back into her life.

“Gabby,” he murmured, his voice heavy with desire as their foreheads touched. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this—about you.”

She swallowed hard, her heart racing. “Then don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with want.

He kissed her again, slow and deliberate, before his hands slid to the waistband of her leggings. Gabby arched into him as he gently tugged them down, his touch careful and reverent. When they joined her shirt on the floor, he leaned back slightly, letting his eyes take her in.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice rough but genuine, making her cheeks flush under his gaze.

Glen reached for the button on his jeans, but as much as he was swept up in the moment, a flicker of restraint passed over his face. He froze, his hands stilling as he took a deep breath.

“Wait,” he said, his voice steady but soft. He leaned back slightly, brushing a hand over her cheek as if to reassure her. “I just… I need to grab something first.”

Gabby blinked, momentarily confused, before realization dawned on her. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she nodded. “Okay,” she said softly, her voice carrying no trace of frustration or impatience.

Glen pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before climbing off the bed, his movements hurried but careful. He retrieved his wallet from his jeans, fumbling with it for a second before pulling out a small foil packet.

When he turned back to her, Gabby couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him—his hair mussed, his chest rising and falling a little faster than usual, his expression a mix of anticipation.

“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish grin as he climbed back onto the bed. “Didn’t mean to kill the mood.”

“You didn’t,” Gabby reassured him, reaching up to pull him down into another kiss. “I’m glad you’re responsible. It’s… kind of hot, actually.”

Glen chuckled and then his hands slid down Gabby’s sides, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake as he positioned himself between her legs. He shifted his hips slightly and then slowly started to press himself into her.

The moment they connected, both of them let out simultaneous sounds—his a deep groan that rumbled in his chest, hers a soft moan that hitched midway, the sensation a mix of longing and adjustment.

Gabby's fingers clutched his shoulders, her breath catching at the sudden fullness after so much time apart. It wasn’t pain, but the unfamiliarity of it made her tense momentarily.

Glen froze the instant he noticed, his hand immediately finding her cheek. “Hey,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing. His forehead rested against hers as his thumb stroked her skin. “Are you okay?”

She nodded quickly, but her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling against his. “I’m fine,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “I just… It’s been a while.”

His lips pressed a tender kiss to her temple as he stilled, giving her a moment to adjust. “I know, baby. I’ll take my time,” he assured her, his voice filled with nothing but patience and care. “Just tell me what you need.”

Gabby exhaled slowly, her hands relaxing their grip on his shoulders. She looked up at him, her gaze soft but determined. “I need you, Glen.”

His heart swelled at her words, and he brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “I’ll go slow, okay? Just tell me if you need me to stop.”

She nodded, her body gradually relaxing beneath him as his kisses trailed from her lips to her jaw, then down her neck. His hips shifted slightly, rocking gently to let her adjust at her own pace.

Gabby gasped softly, her body responding as the discomfort gave way to the ache of longing she’d been carrying for weeks. Her fingers slid into his hair, holding him close as her legs wrapped loosely around his waist.

“Better?” he asked, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below her ear.

“Much better,” she breathed, her voice carrying a newfound confidence.

Glen groaned softly as he felt her starting to clench around him. His movements started growing more confident and intentional. Gabby arched against him, her body responding instinctively to the rhythm he set, every fiber of her being focused on the way he made her feel.

His lips started trailing kisses down her jawline and back to her neck again. Her fingers threaded through his hair, tugging gently as her breaths turned into soft cries, uninhibited and full of longing.

The sounds coming from Gabby spurred Glen on, his pace quickening slightly as he continued to thrust in and out of her. He whispered her name like a prayer, his voice filled with both love and desire, as they reveled in the closeness they’d both been craving for weeks.

Gabby’s hands roamed over his back, her nails digging in lightly as her body moved with his, the tension building until it threatened to spill over. Glen lifted his head, locking eyes with her, and the intensity of his gaze sent a fresh wave of heat through her.

“Let go, Gabby,” he murmured, his voice thick with encouragement. “I’ve got you.”

Their movements grew faster, more desperate, as if neither wanted to waste a second of the precious time they had together. Gabby clung to Glen, her fingers tangled in his hair as her breath hitched, her body arching toward him as the heat coiled tightly inside her, ready to snap.

“Glen,” she gasped, his name breaking from her lips like a plea.

“I’m right here,” he murmured, his voice strained yet full of love, his forehead pressed to hers as they moved together. “Let go for me, baby.”

His words, paired with the way his body seemed to perfectly match hers, sent her over the edge. A cry escaped her, her body trembling beneath him as the waves of release coursed through her, pulling her under in the best way possible.

Glen followed moments later, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he buried his face in the curve of her neck, his body tensing and then shuddering as he found his own release. His arms wrapped tightly around her, holding her against him as they both rode out the moment together, connected in every possible way.

As the tension ebbed, Gabby melted into Glen, her body relaxing completely beneath him. She buried her face in his shoulder, her breaths coming out in soft, uneven pants as she clung to him, savoring the warmth of his body pressed against hers.

Glen shifted slightly, careful not to crush her, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he collapsed onto the bed beside her, one arm still wrapped tightly around her waist as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.

“God, I missed you,” he said, his voice rough and full of sincerity as he nuzzled his face into her hair.

Gabby smiled against his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over his skin as her breathing began to steady. “I missed you, too,” she whispered, her voice soft and full of emotion.

For a moment, neither of them moved, content to simply hold each other in the quiet aftermath. Glen’s thumb stroked soothing circles on her hip, and Gabby felt completely at ease, her worries melting away as she lay in his arms.

“You okay?” Glen asked after a while, his voice gentle as he tilted her chin up to look at her.

Gabby nodded, her green eyes sparkling with both happiness and contentment. “Better than okay,” she replied, her lips curving into a small smile.

Glen chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Good,” he said, his arm tightening around her.

They lay there for a while, wrapped up in the warmth of each other, the quiet stillness of the room making the moment feel even more intimate. Gabby traced her fingers lightly along Glen’s chest, marveling at how real and solid he felt beneath her touch. It was as if her body was trying to memorize every detail of him again after so much time apart.

Glen sighed contentedly, his hand combing gently through her hair. “This is nice,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost sleepy.

“Mmm,” Gabby agreed, her head resting over his heart. “I’ve missed this. Just being able to touch you. Hold you.”

“Me too,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “You have no idea.”

The peaceful quiet lingered until Glen shifted slightly beneath her, sitting up just enough to swing one leg over the side of the bed. Gabby’s eyes opened immediately, her arms tightening around his torso as she pulled him back toward her.

“Where are you going?” she mumbled, her voice still heavy with contentment and just a hint of sleepiness.

Glen chuckled softly, looking down at her. “Relax, I’m just getting a drink,” he teased, reaching for her hands as if to pry them loose, but Gabby clung tighter, nuzzling her face against his side.

“Don’t leave me,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his skin.

His teasing smirk faded, replaced by a look of tenderness that softened his entire expression. Glen turned back toward her, lying down again and pulling her into his arms without hesitation.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, his voice low and reassuring as he kissed the corner of her mouth. “You’re stuck with me, remember?”

Gabby smiled faintly, her face still buried against him. “Good,” she said, her fingers curling into his side as if she wanted to hold on to him forever.

Glen tilted her chin up gently, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “I’m here, baby. I promise.”

The sincerity in his tone melted Gabby’s heart, and she leaned up to kiss him softly, grateful for every second they had together. As they settled back into the quiet, Glen held her even closer, whispering little reassurances in her ear until she fully relaxed against him again.

“Can I go get that drink now?” he teased after a moment, his lips brushing against her hair.

“Not if it means letting go of you,” Gabby replied, her voice playful but honest.

Glen laughed quietly, his chest rumbling beneath her. “Alright, I’ll survive.” 

He pressed another kiss to her forehead, settling back into the bed with her nestled against him. It was moments like this that made the distance and the waiting worth it. Being here with her was everything.

[daryltwdixon]

hey! i have a request :) could you do daryl x fem reader who sings? she has never been too open about her singing but when she’s alone she’s singing all the time/humming to herself around others. she’s had a crush on him for a while but hasn’t been able to do anything about it because she’s not sure if he feels the same. but he hears her singing when she didn’t notice he was there and it sparks something <3

Daryl x Reader fluff

thank you so much for the request! I'm sorry I literally blanked on every cute folk song I've ever heard so I settled for this one that I hold dear to my heart from a trip I took to England. Hope this is kind of what you were hoping for!

here is the song

The sun dips low over the tree line surrounding the Greene farm, painting the sky in hues of deep orange and purple. For the first time since the world turned upside down, you feel something like ease. The farm is undeniably beautiful, a serene homestead somehow tucked away from the horrors beyond its borders.

You’re perched on the porch railing, a pair of knitting needles clicking softly in your hands as you work on a pair of woolen socks. Knitting had started as a hobby but quickly became a necessity when you realized just how unforgiving winter would be without the simple comforts of central heating and the yearly down coat you used to take for granted. Now, it’s your quiet mission to make sure everyone has warm socks before the temperature drops.

Knitting is a simple, repetitive task—one that keeps your hands busy but leaves your mind free to wander. Without even thinking, a soft melody escapes your lips. It’s a tune that’s always been stowed in the back of your mind, rising to the surface when the world around you feels still, or when you’re caught in the rhythm of something as peaceful as this.

mmm I want to linger,

mmm, a little longer

mmm, a little longer here with you

Between the steadiness of your needles and the soft melody humming from your lips, you don’t notice the figure standing on the steps until his boots creak against the top of the porch.

You nearly drop the fabric in your lap when you glance up and see Daryl Dixon, his blue eyes flickering with something you can’t quite place beneath his usual surly expression.

“S-sorry,” you stammer, gripping the knitting needles tighter. “Didn’t hear you comin’.”

He shrugs, a small, nonchalant motion, but his hand lifts to his mouth, the skin of his thumb settling between his teeth. It’s a gesture you’ve seen before, one you’ve come to recognize as his ‘thinking’ face. You hesitate, unsure whether to keep knitting or set it aside.

Daryl’s presence always leaves you off balance. There’s something about the quiet way he moves through the world—intimidating, yes, but also magnetic. You’re never sure how to act around him, but that hasn’t stopped you from wanting to be near him. Despite the brooding air and glowering gaze, you’ve caught glimpses of something softer beneath the surface.

“Don’t gotta stop ‘cause a’me,” he grumbles, his voice low, half-muffled behind his hand.

Your face grows warm under the weight of his gaze, and you quickly avert your eyes, focusing on the fabric in your lap, fumbling with it. “Oh, uh… it’s fine. I was gonna turn in soon anyway,” you mumble.

“You’re always singin’,” he says after a beat, his tone quiet. You can’t tell if it’s meant as a criticism or just an observation, but it catches you off guard all the same.

Your fingers pause over the fabric, smoothing the soft wool as you bite your lip. “I… I didn’t think anyone noticed,” you admit, barely above a whisper.

Daryl exhales sharply through his nose, a sound that’s somewhere between a sigh and a huff. He shifts on his feet, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him turn and make his way toward the rocking chair by the door.

You glance up, watching as he sets his crossbow down against the wall. Without a word, he settles into the chair with a kind of casual ease that only Daryl Dixon could make look both restless and deliberate. He leans forward, pulling one of his arrows free from the quiver, and begins sharpening the tip with his knife. The rhythmic scrape of metal on wood fills the silence.

“Well,” he grunts after a moment when he sees you still staring, looking up from his work, “go on then.”

Your brows knit together, caught off guard by his words. “Go on with… what?”

He spares you a brief glance, his knife stilling for a second before he returns to his task. “Singin’. Ain’t botherin’ me none.”

The heat in your face deepens, and you laugh softly, more out of nervousness than anything else. “I don’t really sing. Not, like, for people.”

“Ain’t askin’ for a concert,” he mutters, his voice gruff but not unkind. His attention fixes on the arrow in his hands then, but there’s something in the way he said it—something almost… expectant.

You hesitate, your fingers still fidgeting with the wool in your lap. The thought of singing with him sitting so close makes your chest feel tight, but the idea that he noticed, that he cared enough to listen, sparks something warm inside you.

After a long pause, you swallow your nerves and begin to hum a few soft notes, your voice barely audible over the sound of his knife scraping against the arrow. It’s tentative at first, shaky, but when he doesn’t react—just keeps sharpening his arrow with that same quiet intensity—you feel brave enough to let the melody take shape once again.

mmm, it's such a perfect night

mmm, it doesn't seem quite right

mmm, that it should be my last with you

The porch settles into an odd kind of harmony: the soft cadence of your voice mingling with the steady rhythm of his knife, your knitting needles back to work with a deliberate cadence. You steal a glance at him every so often, and for the first time, you notice the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. The world beyond the farm seems to fall away, leaving only the two of you under the fading light of the evening.

You let the melody flow, one note slipping into another, your voice growing steadier. There’s something about having Daryl nearby—his quiet presence—that makes you feel… safe. Like you don’t need to worry about being too loud, or drawing too much attention, because he’s there.

mmm, and as the years go by

mmm, I'll think of you and sigh

mmm, this is goodnight and not goodbye

Eventually, you glance over again, expecting to find him still sharpening his arrow, but instead, you freeze. His knife and arrow rest forgotten in his lap, and he’s sitting back in the chair, his arms crossed loosely in front of him as he chews his lip. His gaze is fixed on you, steady and warm, with a softness you’ve never seen from him before.

Your breath catches in your throat. “What?” you ask, your voice quieter now, almost uncertain.

He doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch or fumble for words like he sometimes does when he’s caught off guard. “Nothin’,” he says, his tone low and even. But the way he says it, the way his gaze lingers, it feels like more.

Your fingers tighten around the knitting needles still in your lap as you hold his stare, your heart beating louder than it should.

“You’re starin’,” you manage, a small, nervous laugh escaping you.

“Maybe,” he admits, the corner of his mouth tugging into the faintest hint of a smirk.

The continued warmth in his gaze sparks something in your chest, and for a moment, you feel like the air around you has shifted. You’ve seen Daryl angry, guarded, even awkward—but this? This is different. He’s not looking away, not retreating behind the usual walls you’ve come to expect. He’s just… watching you, like he’s really seeing you for the first time.

Neither of you say anything right away, but the silence doesn’t feel uncomfortable. It’s heavy in a way that makes you hyper-aware of the space between you, of the way his eyes stay on yours, steady and unflinching.

Finally, your lips tug into a small smile, letting out a sigh. He shifts forward, brushing his hand against the arrow he’d set aside. “You’re good at it,” he mutters, his voice low, like he’s not used to saying the words.

“Knitting?” you tease, trying to cut the tension with a little humor.

He lets out a quiet huff, shaking his head. “Singin’,” he says. “Ain’t just hummin’. You sound...nice.”

The sincerity in his tone makes your stomach flip, and your cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks,” you say softly, your voice more even than you expect.

The cool breeze nips at your skin, but you hardly notice, warmth spreading in your chest. There’s a look in his eyes—soft, almost contemplative—that makes your breath catch.

“Guess we should head in ‘fore it gets colder.” he says gruffly, as if remembering himself.

You nod, gathering your half finished socks and needles as you follow him toward the door. As you step inside, you can’t help but feel like something shifted tonight, something small but important. And for the first time, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he feels it too.

[k-evans-reads]

The Spare

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Summary: When Princess Rosie unexpectedly is thrust into a political tour of the country, a working-class Air Force Captain is assigned to be her pilot. Although the princess is unhappy about the decision, she realizes she’s stepping into unknown territory when the unexpected happens

Previous l Main Masterlist | The Spare Masterlist

By @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

Word Count: 6,067

The morning was unusually warm for being earlier in the spring, but Rosie was thankful for it. Mornings and evenings were virtually the only time she was alone during these grueling tours but the darkness of the evening always brought a heavy weight of loneliness, something the rising sun of the mornings seemed to lighten. She liked to take advantage of the time, getting dressed to walk alone through the expansive gardens of the sprawling estate she was at for less than a day before being shipped off to the next stop, feeling like a puppet on a string.

Her hand gently brushed along some of the soft flowers growing as she wandered through the beautiful grounds. It was peacefully quiet as she walked, minus the crunch of a few displaced leaves but at the second crunch of a leaf from several feet behind her, Rosie finally spun her head to look over her shoulder, tensing as her suspicions of being followed were true. But a small smile crossed her lips absentmindedly as she realized who her shadow was that day. “I thought I heard someone behind me,” she said, pausing to let him catch up to her.

Chris grinned back to her, shrugging as he jogged to meet her. Clad in sneakers, sweatpants, and a t-shirt, he looked ready for a morning workout - one he seemingly now intended on skipping. “Even though I’m your pilot, technically I’m on your security team too so I think it’d look bad for me to say I’d lost you,” he reminded her, his grin growing to a smirk.

Rosie rolled her eyes at Chris, turning and walking side-by-side with him down the path. He’d already begun to snigger when she muttered, “Yeah I’m really going to get lost with guards every fifty feet.”

“I have a feeling you’d know how to slip by them if you wanted to,” Chris answered, and while Rosie snorted with sarcasm, his tone seemed to be completely honest.

“Me? I’d never…” she drawled.

But Chris simply arched a single brow at her, looking at her out of the corner of his eyes as they continued around the bend in the path surrounding a large pond. “Remember your brother is my best friend. I’ve heard enough stories to know it’s true,” he murmured.

Rosie chuckled quietly to herself, avoiding his gaze. “I just have no idea what you’re talking about,” she finally told him, but knowing wholeheartedly just about every story James must’ve told him through the years.

“Yeah I bet you don’t,” Chris laughed.

“Was there a reason that you were looking for me? Were you hoping to get a few pointers on how to play tennis?”

He raised another brow at her, a hand moving from his pocket to rest on his chest as a bird flew overhead. “Pointers? If I remember correctly, I’m the one who beat you… more than once,” he reminded her.

“That’s because I didn’t want to ruin all your confidence the first time we played together,” she laughed, reaching to tuck her hair behind her ear as she caught a glance at the security guards across the property from them.

“Sounds like pretty big talk for someone who lost,” he whispered, dropping his hand back into his pocket.

Rosie snuck a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, seeing the large grin on his lips as he glanced around the property. He just always seemed so… completely real. In a way no one really had before. She had never been around people as electric-seeming as Chris had, instead she had always been the forced center-of-attention on a lonely island, it felt. But the presence and energy he’d brought was surely welcomed by Rosie.

She was all-too aware of her surroundings, the guards on a perimeter around the property, with no less than five sets of eyes on the pair as they walked side-by-side together. But she was also all-too-aware of the patient, kind, amused man next to her, and indulged herself further by pointing out to him, “At least I didn’t nearly trip over the net.”

“Keyword there was nearly. I didn’t actually trip over it,” he said, his voice aghast at the suggestion.

But Rosie shrugged, ignoring his outrage. “I would have thought an Air Force captain would have been a little more athletic,” she stated, pursing her lips to keep her from giggling at his reaction.

He shook his head, squinting in the sunlight as he gazed upwards. “Be careful, Princess, remember that I’m the one flying you this afternoon,” he murmured to her, his voice low.

“I will as long as you do me one favor,” she paused, waiting for his eyes to meet hers as they passed under some sprawling tree branches. “Just call me Rosie.”

He grinned, his eyes brightening at those words. “If you just call me Chris,” he offered, brows raising hopefully.

“You’ve got a deal on that,” she assured him, eyes darting away from his hopeful, happy ones to look. She stiffened as she saw the moving gazes of the guards around them, willing herself to ignore them. Desperate for a distraction, she asked, “So what are you doing out here?”

He shrugged, lips pursing as he buried his hands in his pockets. “I’m not really doing anything until we leave this afternoon and I just saw you walking by yourself so I figured I’d just come see if you wanted some company,” he admitted, his voice becoming strangely quiet.

Rosie let the silence linger for a few moments as they walked, the gravel under their feet being the only sound as they walked. She mulled over his words, replaying them in her mind and feeling okay with that, with the offer of his company. “…That would be nice,” she admitted to him, her voice just as quiet as his had been.

The silence returned for a few moments as she struggled to find the words to say next. Thankfully, Chris took the lead and turned his head to look at her as she stared straight ahead. She had no idea why all of the sudden she felt so uncomfortable, but she also didn’t want to leave his company, despite the prying eyes and knowledge that this probably wasn’t something he should be doing, especially in the aftermath of the tennis match. But she made no moves to leave, instead listening intently as Chris said, “So Rosie, tell me about you.”

Rosie couldn’t stop the nearly-bitter laugh that escaped her. “Tell you about me? Doesn’t everyone already know everything they want about me?” She reminded him. And despite all her hopes and wishes - she knew it was true. Why wouldn’t it be? He surely had to sit through - like every other person in this country, including herself, James, and Annie - monotonous lectures and lessons on her family, dating back centuries and ending with the king and the future of the monarchy - the prince.

And she’d never forget the papers - the ones that stalked their near every move, wrote think pieces upon think pieces about the state of the monarchy, the wild black sheep of the Royal Family of Ellington, and the constant scrutiny they faced, all while carrying a tone of adoration.

But Chris seemed unperturbed, and Rosie had to sneak a glance at him furtively, nearly suspicious at the innocence and naivety. “Only what they publish in the papers, and that’s not really knowing someone,” he simply told her.

Rosie couldn’t even hide the surprise on her face, truly never having heard someone say anything like that before. It almost felt unbelievable that someone wanted to get to know her. She had spent her entire life in the shadow of James, always being the girl who had to fight against who she really was to be the royal princess on best behavior she was always supposed to be. Rosie had always felt that everyone around her either just wanted to be near her for her title, or expected her to be exactly what their perception of a princess was, and the hardest part for her is that a lot of that was true. She was so pulled into this bubble of royalty, every single thing in her life being dictated by it that it felt completely foreign to her to have someone simply getting to know her.

A slight smirk appeared on Chris’ lips, egging her on and encouraging her, C’mon, don’t even try to pretend you don’t have anything to say. I know enough about you from James to know that you’re not shy.”

“I was just surprised is all,” she admitted, unable to hide the shock from her voice. Her eyes bore forwards, hyper aware of every shift of his eyes as she hesitated. “I just don’t… know where to start I guess.”

“Start with anything, like how you’re terrible at tennis,” he suggested, a chuckle escaping him.

Her brow arched, finally sneaking a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. He seemed relaxed, his usually tensed and poised shoulders slouching with amusement and the twinkle in his eyes shining brighter under the bright sun. “We’ll see if you’re still singing that tune after we have a rematch,” she goaded.

“Okay, I won’t start with a sore subject,” he relented. A silence fell for a short moment and the chirping of birds filled the air until he asked, “What did you study at university?”

“Art history,” she answered quickly.

His head cocked and turned to look at her. “Art history? I don’t know that I would have guessed that,” he admitted.

“Well tennis wasn’t an option,” she laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear. She didn’t know why, but despite the frenetic and uncomfortable feeling inside her at this questioning, she couldn’t help but indulge him. “I’ve always loved art. I’m not very good at doing it myself but I appreciate it.”

“Do you get to do anything with that now?”

She shrugged, a frown began to cross her lips. It’d been a sore subject of hers for a while now, the battle between reality and her desire for normalcy. “Not really, I mean I always kind of knew I’d probably have to be a working royal. But then before I graduated university, James ditched me to go into the Air Force so I had to take his place which everyone was thrilled about,” she sighed.

“I think you underestimate what the country thinks about you,” Chris said, his voice sincere. “But what if you could have a normal job? What would you want to do?”

“That’s easy. I would have wanted to curate art for a museum,” she answered quickly. It’d long been a love of hers and something she eventually looked forward to, once several years of being an active royal was under her belt. She yearned for the years when she got to be part of the future art curation of the many estates and homes in the family.

“I don’t think I’ve ever even hardly been to a museum,” Chris laughed, his laughter ringing through the grounds and causing a smile to cross Rosie’s lips.

“Looks like I’m just going to have to educate you then.”

He shrugged, simply agreeing, “Looks like it.”

His line of questioning didn’t stop there, with Chris continuing to ask her about things like what she normally did during tour downtimes, where she’d traveled over the years, her childhood, and everything in between. It was something she wasn’t used to, this interest in things beyond the surface level interests and charity endeavors. Instead, he asked about Rosie, not Princess Rosalie.

“What about your family? What’s your relationship with them like?”

She chuckled, waving a hand. “You probably already know from James,” she reminded him, all too aware at how long Chris and James had been friends.

“I’d rather hear it from you though. He can only give his perspective,” Chris said, his hands pushing into his pockets as they rounded a corner.

Rosie’s brows furrowed, looking at him. “What are you doing? Trying to gather information for the tell all you’re going to give about me later?” She asked.

“Hey I’ve gotta cash in while I can,” Chris laughed, the sound reassuring him.

“Well I’m sure you know what my relationship with James is like,” she began, pausing before adding, “He and I are really close. I mean, I’ve always been in his shadow, and there’s a lot of things he doesn’t fully understand about that but James is the one who understands more than anyone else what this life is like.”

Chris nodded, listening intently. “I’m glad you two have each other,” he admitted to her.

“Me too. I honestly don’t know what I would do without him,” Rosie spoke, her voice becoming softer as she grew more vulnerable. “James is closer to our father than I am. I think that to him I’m kind of just the one who always has to be managed… and my mother is just kind of… there. I honestly don’t even know how to describe it. She just isn’t…”

“Involved?”

She nodded at his answer. “That’s a good word for it. She just does whatever my father says and just sort of holds the party line. I’ve never felt like she was at all interested in me, but she and my younger sister Annie are a lot closer.”

“James never really talked about Annie much,” Chris softly interjected, as if his mind was beginning to fill in the spaces between her careful words.

“They love each other but aren’t really that close. He’s so much older than her that they were just kind of always in different places in their lives,” Rosie admitted to him. She paused, before quickly adding, “Annie’s really sweet though. She’s been able to escape some of the pressure and things placed on us and I hope to keep it that way.”

“I think she’s lucky to have you,” Chris spoke honestly.

“I’m not always so sure about that,” Rosie laughed, shrugging off the sincerity of his words. “Do you have any siblings?”

He shook his head, his eyes moving to stare straight ahead. “No, James is the closest thing I have to a brother.”

“What about your parents? Are you close to them?”

“I’m super close to my Ma, she’s the best,” he smiled, seemingly unknowingly and instinctively.

Rosie couldn’t help but smile at the loving expression on his face at the thought of his mother. “What about your dad?” She asked him.

Chris’ smile dropped, his jaw tightening. “… I never knew him,” he finally confided, their steps soft on the gravel as his voice lowered. “He left before I was even born so I’ve never met him.”

“Oh Chris, I’m so sorry,” she apologized, never meaning to pry at a clearly sore subject. The entire idea, while perhaps a normal event and one he had grown up with, was so foreign to her. From never knowing a parent to never knowing a family and their history, something her entire life revolved around.

“I’m more sorry for my Ma, I know it wasn’t easy on her,” he shook his head with a sigh. “She was the best parent I could ask for though.”

Rosie’s lips curled as she listened to him. “You two sound close,” she pointed out.

“We are. I talk to her all the time and she’s a big fan of yours,” Chris laughed.

“Of me?”

A loud chuckle escaped him as he shook his head.“Oh yeah, by you going on this tour, I’m flying you instead of flying the Air Force so that makes her happy,” he informed her.

“Well I’m glad I could win her over,” Rosie agreed with a smirk. “I’m sure she wasn’t happy when you came home one day and told her you were going into the Air Force.”

He shook his head, a hand running through his short hair. “She wasn’t, but I had been working so many odd jobs throughout high school and university to help make ends meet for us both that she was happy I did have a steady paycheck.”

Rosie quickly turned her eyes to the path in front of them, her shoulders tensing at the casual way he spoke about his life, and the way he’d struggled. She knew some things from a high level, that Chris grew up in the city, hadn’t gone to the same boarding schools so many in their circles had. But for the first time, she was struck by the sheer differences, more frequent than the similarities, in their lives; but also at how it formed this amazing person, despite the hardship he’d faced.

“Do you see her often?” She asked, her voice low as they passed several guards.

“She’d kick my ass if I didn’t,” he laughed, the sound light and happy. “The last place James and I were both stationed was only a couple hours from where she lives in the house I grew up in so I’ve been lucky to see her a lot the past two years. I think after the tour is over I have a week off before going back to the Air Force so I’ll probably spend it with her.”

“No wonder she’s a fan of me then, I got her son a safer job and a week off,” Rosie chuckled, moving her hand to push the hair out of her eyes. “I guess that’s proof I can keep some members of the public happy with the royal family.”

“The royal family already had her approval, she adores James,” he informed her.

“She’s met him?” Rosie asked, surprised.

“A lot actually,” Chris admitted. “She would visit me a lot during university or sometimes when I’d go home for a weekend James would come with me. She pretty much adopted him as another son.”

She mulled over her words, realizing how much of James’ life she hadn’t known. They of course had grown up side-by-side, but at early ages they’d separated to attend their all-boys and all-girls boarding schools, only seeing each other during tours, big events, holidays, and breaks. Despite all those years of being the other’s closest confidant, she’d missed a large part of James’ life and word. “I didn’t realize how close you two were,” she whispered.

“I honestly don’t even hardly remember how we became friends. One day we just kind of…were,” Chris laughed.

She smiled softly, knowing exactly what he met. James had always had it a lot easier socially than she had, and it was clear just how easily the two clicked. “And then you even got stuck with him after university,” she pointed out.

“Yeah I just couldn’t seem to shake him,” Chris laughed, shaking his head. “He’s certainly made the Air Force a lot more fun. I’m going to miss him.”

Rosie was quiet for a moment, listening to the crunches of leaves underfoot as they walked. “Do you plan on staying in the Air Force or do you have other plans for things you want to do?” She asked him.

He shrugged, lips pursed. “Honestly I’m not sure. Probably just staying in until retirement I guess,” he confessed.

“Well obviously you’re talented at it, I’ve seen all those medals on your uniform,” Rosie complimented him.

“It’s a good steady career and takes care of me and my Ma so I can’t complain,” he smiled, shrugging at the praise.

She was struck by the way he so easily and honestly brushed off praise, turning it into something positive about someone else. Any compliment paid to Chris by Rosie had turned back to his Ma, or his upbringing, the grounded way he was clearly raised. It was so effortless for Chris, and while he may shrink under the attention similarly to Rosie, he bolstered those around him and made it as though it was expected as part of his role and job here.

“What about….” she began, trailing off as David, her private secretary, walked towards them on the path suddenly. David first bowed in front of Rosie, before glancing at Chris quickly.

He cleared his throat, eyes turning back to Rosie. “Princess, it’s time for you to get ready.”

“I’ll be there in a moment,” she told him, lips pursed as she wanted one more moment here.

“I beg your pardon but we’re already behind schedule,” he all but pleaded, eyes staring straight at her.

Chris shifted a bit next to her, and she saw the way his posture straightened and tensed back up again at the intrusion.

“Alright,” Rosie relented with a sigh. She looked next to her, aware of David's presence still there, as she told Chris, “Chris, thank you for this morning. That was just… really nice.”

He smiled, his eyes looking at her before shrugging, “It truly was my pleasure,” he admitted.

She headed inside after David, following him upstairs. She’d just sat down after a quick shower in a vanity chair, beginning to have her hair and makeup done for that evening’s casual events when a quick knock rapped at the door and she was ushered downstairs into the study of the estate. Inside the room, which was packed by the advisors to the Princess’ office, the head of security, other security members, and, to her slight surprise, Chris, who was leaning back against a bookshelf, his arms crossed over his chest, a serious expression on his face as they both avoided the other’s eyes.

Thomas, the head of security, began as the door finally shut behind her, “Princess Rosalie, I need to inform you of a security threat at our next stop on the tour.”

Her brows furrowed as she sat in the plush chair at the center of the room, facing Thomas who sat at the desk. “Security threat? I thought the coast is what we were worried about?”

“It is, but the palace found out about a tip about someone saying they had a plan to break into the event you’ll be speaking at in the next city,” he spoke.

“Is it a legitimate tip?” She asked, mind racing at the possibilities.

“We’re not sure and our team is checking into it,” he informed her, leaning back in his seat. “The issue is that we need to leave within the next hour to make it there, but I don’t believe we’ll be able to confirm nor deny if it’s a legitimate tip in that time.”

She nodded, taking in the information. “So what are we going to do?” She asked, her voice quiet.

“I spoke to the palace and the choice is up to you Princess. You can decide if you’d like to go or skip over that city.”

She’d never had the autonomy to make these decisions before, having never faced something like this, and having never been aware of these things in the past due to her young age during so many tours. “Has my father weighed in on it?” She asked, suddenly desperate for the guidance he’d have provided, backed by his long experience.

“He said that you could decide,” Thomas answered, Rosie’s heart sinking. “The threat could be real, but skipping that city could make us appear weak or fearful. The decision is up to you though, your highness.”

She nodded, asking them to give her a moment. The group quickly filtered out of the room, the door shutting behind them. But at a light touch on her shoulder and a throat clearing, she slouched with relief. Chris walked around her chair, turning to half sit on the desk in front of her, his eyes concerned as he looked her over.

“Rosie, are you alright?” He asked, his voice low and worried.

“Hmm? Oh yes, I’ll let you know of my decision soon so you can get the plane ready,” she answered, swallowing uncomfortably as she pulled a bobby pin out of her hair, fidgeting.

“That’s not why I asked,” he told her, repeating, “Are you alright?”

She shrugged, mind still racing. “Yeah I am.”

“It doesn’t look like it,” he replied quietly, watching her carefully.

“It’s just… a lot to process,” she finally confessed, struggling under the pressure and every possibility.

“Well I’m a pretty good listener,” he told her, lip curling momentarily before his expression disappeared.

She nodded, biting her lower lip. “… I just hate it when they leave things like this up to me. It feels like they’re just waiting for me to screw up,” she told him, tapping her fingers against her legs.

“Well if they choose to leave it up to you, they’re going to have to live with the decision so that’s on them, not on you,” Chris reminded her, voice even and level.

Rosie chuckled bitterly, informing Chris, “That doesn’t mean I won’t have to pay the price for it though.”

“What do you think you want to do?” He asked her quietly.

Rosie sat there quietly as so many thoughts ran through her head. She knew that for them to actually come to her and consider cancelling an event, that there had to be some validity to the threat. It wasn’t a secret there was some growing unrest along the coast and it wouldn’t surprise her that some was spilling in farther. This tour had been highly publicized already, something from the tour or about Rosie nearly daily and thus would be the perfect opportunity for someone to try to attack it and her.

But then there was the flip side that it could make the royal family appear weak or simply uncaring about the people there, dipping out at the sight of trouble. Rosie didn’t want to be someone who was out of touch and let people down, or have it added to the list of the things she had messed up. It didn’t seem like there was a good option and Rosie lifted her eyes to meet his as she honestly admitted, “I don’t know.”

“You still have time to think about it,” he said, nodding. And he was right, but she didn’t see a way she could wrestle with these options within the timeframe still, not without someone’s advice.

“Chris?” She asked, her voice nearly shaking. “Can I ask your opinion?”

He huffed, quietly admitting, “I don’t know I’m the right person to be telling you what you should do.”

“I respect your opinion though,” she said. And it was true, he’d been through more in this realm than she hopefully would ever, had the training, the knowledge, and the ability to see this from many perspectives. “I’d like to know what you think.”

“…Honestly?” Chris began, pausing. She nodded encouragingly, her eyes wide as she looked up at him anxiously. “I think I’d leave and move on.”

“Really?” Rosie asked, surprised at the honesty and fear behind his words.

“Yeah, I’ve seen the layout of that building and there are a lot of entry points for someone if they did want to try something. It’s a pretty hard building to secure completely especially with so many guests there. It’s not a huge loss if you skip it, but could be a huge loss if that tip turns out to be true.” Chris said. He shrugged, adding, “I’d move on.”

She mulled over his words, at the risk he mentioned. It would be more important to play it safe, to avoid mourning lives or destruction than it was to worry about causing bitter uproar for skipping out. He put into words what the only way she knew forward would be, to play it safe in the best way possible, and she knew how invaluable that was.

With a nod, she looked up at Chris, her shoulders returning to the poised, perfectly straight posture that was ingrained in her from many years of training. “Would you call everyone back in?” She asked Chris.

He looked at her for a long moment, and with the last hesitancy and anxiety leaving her expression, he nodded. Hopping off of the desk, he opened the door, peeking his head out and murmuring for everyone to come in. As everyone filtered back into the room, she couldn’t help but notice Thomas’ frown, but ignored it as they all stood in front of her.

She stood as well, moving a hand to smooth her clothes as Thomas asked, “Did you have a decision, Princess?”

“We’re going to skip it and go to the next city,” she informed them, her voice sounding more resolute to her than it had since earlier that day.

“Are you sure, your highness?” One of the many security team members asked - Roger, she reminded herself, he’d been on Annie’s detail for years before being promoted.

“Completely,” Rosie answered with a nod.

Rosie sat silently in the backseat, alone with her thoughts with the only sound she heard was the engine of the car and the patter of soft rain on the windows. She just couldn’t shake that feeling of loneliness that had been her constant companion the last few years but she didn’t get time to dwell on it when the car came to a stop on the private airfield, her door being held open and an umbrella handed to her as she climbed out of the car.

Her plane was sitting idle on the field, the stairs open and waiting for her along with the small integral staff of people who would be on the plane with her lined up and waiting next to the stairs as they always were. Rosie’s eyes skimmed over each person, politely smiling at the head of security, the tour advisor, palace public relations strategist, her secretary for the tour, but when her eyes came to the person standing closest to the stairs, somehow despite the rain, her day felt a little bit sunnier.

Rosie couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked standing there underneath the black umbrella. He stood straight and tall, that perfect military posture with his long legs outlined in a pair of navy blue dress pants. Rosie’s eyes followed up the length of his legs to see him wearing a pristine white button up shirt and navy blue tie that matched the suit jacket that hung on his broad shoulders. His brown hair was pushed to the side, spiking up a little bit at the top and his thick scruff that wasn’t thick enough to be a beard only outlined that chiseled jaw that looked like some of the statues she remembered studying in her art classes.

But the playful closed mouth smile he gave her when their eyes met were anything but like any of the marble statues she had seen and left her unable to help herself but engage him, “Well, are you going to get me to the next leg of the tour safely?”

He chuckled quietly as he twisted the umbrella slightly in his hands. “Good news for you, I’m an even better pilot than I am at playing tennis,” he replied.

“And humble too,” Rosie laughed, a sarcastic whisper.

“It is awfully hard being so good at so many things,” Chris rolled his eyes, but his voice remained amused.

“Really? Because I only heard you say two things.”

He smirked, eyes darting down before he met hers again. “You better remember I’ve got your life in my hands.”

“Somehow I’m not too concerned,” she admitted, playful yet honest.

Chris shot her a smile that felt warmer than a summer day coupled with a wink that made her own lips curve into a grin before she turned to walk up the stairs to the plane, handing her umbrella to the guard at the top of the stairs before going inside to sit down as everyone else followed in behind her.

She watched as Chris stepped on board and his eyes instantly found her, commenting on his way by to the cockpit, “Better buckle up, Rosie. I might give you a bumpy flight in return for your sarcasm.”

Rosie didn’t get a chance to respond, Thomas instantly appearing as he inserted into the conversation with a harsh correction, “I believe you meant to address Her Royal Highness as Princess Rosalie.”

“It’s fine Thomas,” Rosie quickly defended, seeing the discomfort on Chris’ face and the harshness in Thomas’ before she went on to say, “I specifically asked him to call me Rosie.”

With another uncomfortable pause, Thomas just nodded in acknowledgement before going to his seat. Rosie didn’t even want to look at Chris, purely loathing all of these things that went along with every part of her life, but Chris broke her out of it when he leaned in with a smirk as he said, “I’m making so many friends on this tour,” before giving her that wink again and then disappeared to the cockpit.

A small smile lingered on her lips as she went to sit down and Rosie relaxed into her seat, getting ready for the smooth takeoff but had just barely heard Chris’ low voice come over the intercom to announce they were at cruising speed and everyone could move from their seats when the tour administrator, Sarah, came to sit next to her. The greying haired woman was one of the many palace staff members who had been employed as long as she could remember, upholding the strict traditions and ways of the royal family, but Rosie was thankful that Sarah had always been kind to her, extending her a little more understanding than others.

“Princess Rosalie, are you ready to go over your next few events?”

With a small nod, Rosie tried her best to focus as Sarah briefed her on what the next few stops would entail. There were a handful of speeches, ribbon cuttings, and visits to different charities, but as they got closer and closer to the unrest on the coast, the security threat grew larger, which led Sarah to bringing up an undeniable fact, “We don’t want you to look as though you’re vulnerable at any of these events. Normally we like to have security be a little more invisible but we’re going to make them a bit more obvious. The palace also decided we’d like you to have a security escort next to you at each event and so Thomas-”

“Oh Sarah, please not Thomas,” Rosie all but begged, sighing as she spoke.

“He is the head of security,” Sarah said, shocked at the idea of not having Thomas be there.

She nodded, but admitted to Sarah, “I know but this is already hard enough. If I have Thomas breathing down my neck it’ll only make me more nervous,”

“I suppose we could have someone else,” Sarah finally admitted, lips pursed as she looked at the papers in front of her and tried to solve the equation.

Rosie was quiet for a moment, but knew the answer in her heart. “…What about Captain Evans?”

“Your pilot? Princess, he’s not really part of the core security team. He’s more here at the request of the Prince.” Sarah reminded her, but Rosie was willing to push the issue.

“But he’s been through the security training and he’s military so he certainly knows protocol,” she reminded her. Then, knowing the optics of this, she added, “I think if anything it would look good to have a decorated Air Force Captain as the one standing next to me at events. It shows trust in the military, puts less of a wall between me and the people than a security guard would, and it would… make me feel a lot better.”

Sarah was quiet for several moments. Rosie could practically hear the battle inside her mind, but was thrilled when she finally said, “You’re right, I think the Captain would be a good choice.”

With a smirk, Rosie sat back, knowing that with Chris by her side, the tour would fly. The best moments had already been with the two of them together, but now, with the assurance that Chris would be there, she couldn’t help but feel comforted. And as the cockpit door opened as the plane’s captain came to grab a drink from the stewardess, her heart fluttered at the glimpse of Chris, sitting in the pilot’s chair, his chiseled arms beneath his shirt, and his bright blue eyes as he turned his head to the side.

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

Present Morning

christmas mornings are always beautiful, especially when your husband starts the day by eating you out in the comfort of your warm bed.

and that was exactly what was happening right now.

“toji… ughhh!!” your husband had your legs pulled up to your chest, one arm firmly holding them in place, while his tongue was busy lapping up your slick walls.

toji fushiguro knew exactly how to worship you. to him (alongside his son), you were the most precious thing in the world. you were the unattainable, flawless, utterly divine queen he could only dream of serving. and he, your loyal servant, devoted to you every hour, every minute, every second of his life.

his tongue moved along your dripping, slippery walls with practiced precision, pulling out moans from your throat. his deep, masculine groans vibrated against your core, intensifying the pleasure to the point where you pressed your face deeper into the soft pillow beneath you.

your husband kissed your folds wetly, sucking on them with fervor before releasing them with a sloppy pop. his free hand moved to trail his fingers along your sensitive entrance.

“such a mess… every time my tongue touches your swollen walls, it’s always the same.” his rough voice rumbled against your skin, his fingers teasing your entrance while your restrained moans filled his ears. the cool touch of his wedding band occasionally brushing against your core sent shivers down your spine. but when his thick middle and ring fingers pushed inside, you let out a loud cry.

“fuck, babe. your pussy is so warm and eager, just like always. fuck―fuck.” his fingers moved inside you with a steady rhythm, unhurried but purposeful, drawing out every ounce of pleasure he could. each time he found your g-spot, his fingers curled just right, coaxing even more intense waves of sensation. the calloused tips of his fingers brushing against your soft, sensitive spot created a delicious friction you couldn’t get enough of.

“love… y-your fingers are too… big oh god—” they always felt like too much for you. toji was a big man, and his 8.4-inch hands were just one reminder of his size.

of course, his hands weren’t the only large part of him.

the slick, obscene sounds of your wetness filled the dimly lit room, faintly illuminated by the morning sun peeking through the curtains. you caught a glimpse of the smirk curling his lips. toji never played humble when you brought up his size—he knew exactly how much of a man he was.

“huh, is that so? but you love it, don’t you, wife?” his fingers stopped their slow rhythm and began to move faster. one of your hands flew up to muffle your cries as he teased you further, his tone dripping with mockery. “i know how much you love my fingers. the way you take them so greedily every damn day, the way you suck them clean after you cum, and how you clench around them when i spank your ass while i’m fucking you. fuckkkk—every little thing about them drives you insane.”

“yes, yes, i love them more than—more than anything, toji,” you gasped, your words soft but clear enough for him to hear.

his fingers thrust faster into you, and as his lips wrapped around your swollen clit, your hands gripped the headboard tightly. his warm, wet mouth sucked on the throbbing bundle of nerves while his tongue drew circles around it. every movement of his fingers inside you was deliberate, precise, and unrelenting, matching the intensity of his mouth on your clit.

he would never give his queen anything less than perfection.

“are you close, ma? because i can feel it—you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” his deep voice resonated against your core, pushing you closer to the edge.

“uh-huh. mmph—please, love, i want to cum, please, please—UGHHH TOJI!” with your legs still pinned to your chest, his fingers pressed hard against your g-spot, coaxing you over the edge.

your back arched as waves of pleasure wracked your body, your hand muffling the loud cry threatening to escape. your climax washed over you, soaking his fingers as he held your trembling legs firmly in place.

as your husband finally released your legs, they fell limp onto the bed, completely spent. he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to your lips, slipping them into your mouth while he lowered his head to lap up the juices spilling from your entrance.

you sucked on his thick fingers eagerly, your tongue swirling around them as his head lifted. with a grin, he leaned down to kiss you deeply, his lips tasting of you.

“ready for my cock, ma?” he asked as he pulled away, his lips glistening with saliva. but just as his hand reached for his cock, a loud crashing sound from the living room made him freeze.

“what the fuck was that?” he growled, instantly getting out of bed and throwing on the nearest piece of clothing. you scrambled to do the same, your heart racing with a mix of adrenaline and fear as you both rushed toward the sound.

your mind immediately went to the worst possibilities. had something happened to megumi? was this one of the disgusting traps laid by toji’s awful family?

but when you reached the living room, the sight before you revealed the culprit—your six-year-old son, standing amidst the chaos of a toppled christmas tree, clutching a red, gift-wrapped present with his name on it. his wide, fearful eyes darted between you and toji.

while you bit your lip to stifle a laugh, your husband muttered under his breath just loud enough for you to hear, "this kid is doing everything he can to make sure we don't give him a sibling." that was all it took for you to burst into laughter.

megumi still looked terrified, clearly expecting a scolding. but you walked over, scooped him up in your arms, and peppered his cheeks with kisses. “looks like it’s time to open our christmas presents,” you said, smiling warmly at him, thankful the only chaos this morning was caused by your mischievous little boy.

a little note: i hope there aren't any mistakes. i couldn't do proof reading because i'm sick :(

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

[carefreecoffee]

Fluffmas Day 9: Icy hands w/ Keigo Takami

Word count: 1k, Gender-neutral Reader

Keigo opened up the front door to his home, having finished a long shift on patrol from noon until the sun had begun setting.

He quietly slipped his shoes off and closed the door behind him glancing around until he saw you curled up on the couch bundled up in a bunch of your shared blankets as you watched the television. “Hey Birdy” A smirk tugged at his lips as he made his way to and sat down next to you.

“Ya look like a burrito” He teased gently, running hand over your covered leg.

You grin, glancing above the blanket and meeting his golden eyes with a smirk. “Comfier than you by a long shot”

He let out a soft scoff, leaning against the back of the couch, crossing one leg over the other. He reached over and gave your blankets a light tug “Oh yeah? It’s true your comfy and warm but, I’m comfier and warmer, no doubt”

He scooched toward you a bit more, “Can I join ya in that little burrito of yours?” A playful smile tugged at his lips and without even waiting for a response, Keigo shifted so that he was closer to you, his wing lightly draping itself over you to join in the cocoon of warmth.

You yelp, a small chuckle escaping you as he huddles under. His hands raise to your arms in order to properly cuddle until he feels the temperature of your skin in vast contrast.

He let out a small huff, his hands roaming down to your legs that were draped around his waist. “Christ your hands are like ice, and you're freezing” Keigo shifted slightly so that you were now sprawled on top of him, shifting closer to you and draping the blanket back over the two of you properly. “How’re you so damn cold?”

You shrug, “Jus' how i run i guess” You run your hands up his clothed arms before getting a rather devious idea. Slowly you ran your hand up and quickly placed them upon the nape of his neck.

Sullen of being cold, the sudden feeling of your icy cold hands on his neck made him jump slightly. “Gah cold! Hands not that damn cold” He yelped quickly burying his face in the crook of your neck to try and warm up. In return he retaliated by doing the same to you, running his warm hands along your arms and up to your neck.

You shiver as his warm hands trace along your colder body, “Jesus you're burning!”

Keigo laughed as you shivered when his warm hands touched your cold body. He lightly traced patterns along the expanse of your body with one of his warm hands, his other hand gently cupped the back of your head giving him more access to bury his head into your neck, his hair lightly tickling your face. “And you're absolutely freezing, seriously how are you this cold?!”

You shrug once more, glancing down at him cheekily. “I don't know but it's kinda funny seeing you so scared of my hands” You wiggle them toward him creepily, a grin emerging on your face as you notice his eyes widen.

His eyes widened as you moved your hands towards him, clearly showing that he was trying not to cringe as your cold hands grew closer. “Hey! Don’t touch me with your ice cube hands, they’re way too cold” he scolded, lightly swatting at your hands.

In retaliation, you move them under his compressed work shirt, trapping them there as you run them along his chest.

He let out a strangled gasp as your icy cold hands made their way under his shirt. He shivered as the sensation of the sudden coldness on his skin, he let out a low grumble as your hands settled on his chest. “C-Cold! Dammit your hands are cold stop! They’re freezing, get ‘em off!”

You chuckle at the reaction, getting exactly as you wanted. With nowhere else to go, he rolled out onto the carpeted floor, taking you with him as you yelped, his wings still making sure that you didn't get hurt.

A quiet ‘oof’ left his lips as the two of you fell, he ended up pinning you to the ground, his body hovering over yours. He tried to give you a stern glare but the small smile on his lips gave away how he was actually feeling “Oh, you think this is funny huh?!”

In the midst of your giggling fit, he took one of the many blankets off of the couch, beginning to wrap you up in the blanket skillfully, rolling you into a proper burrito at this point.

With you now all wrapped up in the blanket, Keigo sat on top of your hips, preventing you from being able to try and break free. He sat with a smirk on his face “Now what’re you gonna do now? You’re all wrapped up like a little present!”

You move your head a bit, testing the mobility of your arms and legs. “You suck, Kei” A pout forms on your face as you glared up at him.

Keigo chuckled at your attempt to move, leaning forward as he placed his hands on either side of your head, a playful yet mocking smile appearing on his lips “Aww, you’re pinned down and can’t move. Sounds like a skill issue”

Your mouth drops open in shock at the insult, feigning offense. “You little shit!”

A bark of laughter left his lips seeing your shocked reaction “Now now, no need for language like that. I’m just teasing you.” He leaned down closer to your face, his golden brown eyes gleamed as he smirked at you.

You sigh, giving into the situation, a small smile finding your face. “Yeha yeah, Birdy” He hummed happily, leaning down and finally pecking your lips.

“Jesus! Even your lips are cold!” He hopped off of you, letting you unwrap yourself as he walked down the hallway. “I'm running you a hot bath!”

All you could do was chuckle, laying on the ground as you caught your breath from the cheeky endeavor, knowing that in the moment, you had the best life you could ask for with the best bird-brain in the world.

Please request! <3 {Taglist: @staygoldsquatchling02}