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paulyenvol6 · 1 month ago

Text

Desires

Joel x female reader

Based on this lovely request (Keep them coming, I need inspiration!!)

Contains: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, use of dildos and vibrators, nipple clamps, bondage, dubcon (it's a punishment), dom!Joel, subby reader, dirty talk, degradation, crying, dumbification, praise, possessiveness, edging, overstimulation, aftercare, fluff, mentions of anal, choking, gagging, slapping, nicknames like babygirl and babydoll

Wordcount: 9,599

Masterlist

A warm shudder went down your spine as you watched the various toys you had purchased today sprawled out across your bed.

It was nervousness, sure, the thrill of having bought these products behind Joel's back, but first and foremost, it was plain excitement. Who could blame you, really? There were days when Joel was out all afternoon while you were already at home daydreaming about him, his soft, yet wrinkled and calloused hands and the warmth and firmness of his body. You were left with nothing to do but find pleasure in your own touch – even though it wasn't half as good as Joel's hands all over your body.

Therefore the toys. You were certain that it couldn't replace your boyfriends heated touch either, but you wanted to try something new and had generously chosen a few promising tools to gift yourself even more pleasure. You silently giggled, the adrenaline rapidly shooting through your veins as you imagined what it would be like to discover these new kinds of arousal, but then shook your head, collecting yourself. It was almost 5pm and Joel had promised to be home at 5:30 and as you knew him, he was never late. So you were quick to shove your newly purchased items into the top drawer of your nightstand while occasionally stopping to listen for any noises downstairs.

When you were done, you ran your gaze over the bed, making sure you hadn't missed anything and then adjusted your hair as you made your way down to the living room.

You knew that you shouldn't be so scared of Joel finding out about this. At the end of the day you were free to have fun by yourself when he wasn't around and he surely knew that you couldn't wait for his return every now and then. A toy or two would be nothing but further help so what could possibly be speaking against it? Still, and you couldn't quite understand why, you definitely didn't want Joel to find out about your possessions. For now, at least.

With shaky legs you sat down on the couch, grabbing the book you were currently reading, but your mind drifted elsewhere every few seconds. The letters were a blur before your eyes, your mind unable to focus on the words and your thoughts with the exciting items just a few feet above you, waiting in the top drawer of your nightstand.

Jesus, this wasn't working.

You slammed the back down on the couch and headed to the kitchen next, craving a glass of cool water. The fresh liquid ran down your throat, moistening your dry mouth and tickling your lips. And then as you slurped up the last drops from your bottom lip, you suddenly heard the door open. A jerk went through your body, your spine straightening and your feet automatically carrying you through the door and to the hallway.

"Baby!" Joel gave you a broad, yet tired smile, pressing your head against his chest as you approached him and kissing your hair.

"How was your day?" you wanted to know and moved your hands up to his shoulder, feeling his tense muscles through the soft texture of his shirt.

"Exhausting. But good. We finished the project and I'm really glad we did it before the weekend."

You proudly grinned, raising your head from his chest and touching the side of his face with both hands.

"That's so good to hear. You did amazing, Joel."

His smile deepened, his brown deer eyes brightening up at your warm words and his hands settling on your hips.

"Thank you, hon. Honestly."

Joel leaned in for a kiss, his mouth tasting of coffee and something sweet that you couldn't identify, but you savoured in nonetheless.

"What do you wanna do tonight?" you whispered against his lips, sliding your hands up and down his arms in a suggestive way. But of course you knew that he was tired, so perhaps you would have to settle with spending the evening snuggled up against him without going any further, which you wouldn't mind either.

"Do you wanna watch a movie?"

His answer didn't help you in any way because a night like this could go two ways: The two of you would either fall asleep on the couch or things would end steamily with him carrying you to the bedroom and making love to you.

"Yeah. Sounds good."

Joel gave your waist a squeeze, kissing your temple and euphoniously humming at the scent of his favorite perfume on you.

"You smell so good, baby."

"Thank you," you smirked and then descended back to the floor when Joel let go off you.

"I'm gonna change into something more comfortable. You wait on the couch, okay?"

You gave him a nod, your dreamy eyes following his broad frame while he walked up the stairs and your body slumping once he had disappeared. Sighing out, you passed through the hallway and entered the living room where you let yourself drop onto the couch. Although you hadn't been as active as your boyfriend, you still felt the tiredness in your bones when you stretched your limbs and yawned loudly. But Joel was here now and the two of you would spend a cozy evening - although you didn't know how the night would go.

"Joel?" you shouted through the house, unbothered by the fact that he had been gone for barely more than a minute.

"Be right there, baby! Give me 2 minutes."

You wrinkled your nose, but passed the time with pulling up a blanket and getting comfortable underneath it. You were lying on your side, your head resting on the armrest and your knees bent to your chest. You were just about to shout for him again when your finally heard the creaking of the staircase and were able to relax again, your eyes fluttering shut as you expected your boyfriend to walk through the door any moment. He did, but the blurry image made you widen your eyes.

He looked… cross. Blunt and belligerent. Not at all how you had imagined he would watch you when he stepped through that door. You slightly raised your head so you had a better view and only now noticed a small item in his right palm.

This couldn't… no.

"Care to explain?" Joel said, his tone airy and callous.

"Joel – "

"No. I want a fuckin' explanation. Right now."

He tossed the mini vibrator you had bought today on the cushions next to you only to then put his hands on his hips, towering above you like a teacher who was angry at his student for not making their homework.

"Did you search my stuff?" you spitted, anger gripping you now as well. Who did he think he was going through your personal stuff –

"Your fuckin' drawer was open. I wanted to grab your hand lotion from your nightstand 'cause I thought you might want it later and they basically jumped into my eye."

Oh.

You swallowed hard, cursing yourself for having been so stupid, but at the same time… At least he knew now. At least you wouldn't have to walk around with the weight of keeping something from Joel although you usually shared everything with each other.

"I'm sorry. I know I should've asked you before… I-I… I was out today and it just… it sort of happened…"

You felt smaller with each word, your head bowed. You sat on top of your own hands and nervously curled and uncurled your toes while waiting for Joel's judgement.

"It sort of happened? You're kiddin' me. Stand up."

Your eyes shot up, your head spinning from the sudden movement and your eyes perturbed and round. Yet you couldn't react. You watched Joel like you were in awe of him, muscles around your lips nervously twitching.

"I'm not gonna repeat myself. Stand up. Now."

This time your body worked, your trembling hands pulling back the blanket and your clumsy feet settling on the floor so you could rise from the couch. Standing in front of him didn't make you feel any less small, yet you were relieved by the small nod he gave you.

"I already got some ideas for you…," he murmured, scoffing as your eyes found his.

"Joel, I'm sorry. I know I… I should've asked you. Please. Don't be mad."

You gave him your sweetest expression, eyes big and lips pouty, but nothing in his face softened. It was the contrary, his nostrils flared and his eyes dangerously flashed. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then jutted his jaw foward and pointed to the door.

"Bedroom."

"But I thought you – "

"Now. And you better not make me repeat that."

Shit.

Maybe you really had messed up and underestimated how angry he would be about your careless actions. Thinking that you definitely shouldn't test him any further, you made your way to the door, the shaking of your legs clearly visible to Joel, but he ignored it. Without glancing behind you, you pushed down the door handle.

The first tear stung in your eyes at the foot of the stairs and by the time you meekly stood in the middle of your bedroom, the tear had reached the curve of your upper lip. Joel made you wait for one minute, then two.

This was the worst part of it all, the uncertainness about what he was going to do to you; the fear of him being seriously angry with you and the jittery bubbling in your stomach area. That was why you were almost relieved when Joel finally entered the room although he didn't look any less repulsive. With two large steps, he was in front of you, cupping your chin in a large palm, his other hand in your hair.

"Seems like I didn't make my girl happy these last weeks… That's why she had to buy herself toys to satisfy her needs."

"Joel, that's not – " you tried to interrupt him, but he silenced you with his hand covering your mouth.

"Shut up. I don't want you to speak unless I ask you to."

You moved your head under his palm, your eyes glistening with fresh tears, but you were able to blink them away. Not that you thought Joel would care anyway.

"It's a shame… But now that we have these toys in our bedroom, I guess we should make use of 'em, right? Maybe I should really take care of my girl so she might tell me about her desires next time instead of heading to a store and buying toys behind my back."

You wanted to speak up so badly, tell Joel that it wasn't like that and that you were more than content with your sex life. That it was just for when he wasn't there. But something about the fierce darkness in his eyes made you think that it would only make things worse.

He tilted your head, exposing your neck and pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss on your skin.

"I'll make use of 'em, babygirl… Don't ya worry. I'll make ya feel every single one you bought… And if we're gonna stay in 'ere all night," he whispered and although you knew it was a threat, you couldn't deny the way your pussy clenched at his raspy voice.

He palmed your waist, fingers digging into your flesh with no consideration that it might be too rough and then suddenly yanked your shirt up and over your head. Your bra followed, his hands working so precisely and fast that you let all of it happen while holding your breath and faster than you were able to blink he had opened your jeans and expectantly lifted his eyebrows.

"Take 'em off. And then get on the bed."

You felt pathetic reaching down to your ankles to slide your jeans off your feet, but what choice did you have? Joel had the perfect view on your ass and damp underwear, but different to what you had assumed would happen, he didn't comment on it and degrade you further.

Unsure of what he wanted from you, you dropped your pants to the floor and then sat down on the edge of the bed. You felt so pathetic, so vulnerable and disgraceful staring up at him wearing only your panties while he was scornfully darting down at you, fully dressed. But you assumed that it was just what Joel wanted to achieve.

He eyed your body, making your cheeks flush, and then walked over to the dresser. Your feet were dangling in the air, your teeth anxiously chewing on your bottom lip that you had sucked into your mouth while Joel took a few items out of a drawer.

The silence was almost killing you because with Joel it was never silence. It wasn't the first thing one might expect from him when seeing him for the first time, but with him it was always warmth and laughter. Not this. Not this oppressing silence that weighed down on you so heavily, it made you hunch over.

He was standing right in front of you, and you finally mustered the courage to look up and see what he had grabbed from the drawer.

Ribbon.

So he really wasn't messing around tonight. Words of apology were prickling on your tongue, your brain urging you to say something, make things right and tell him how sorry you were, but what if it would make things worse? Eventually, you swallowed them up and tried to get your shivering lower lip under control while Joel leaned in to you.

"Gimme your wrists," he ordered, his voice cold and deliberate. He wasn't accepting any doubts or questions right now. He was taking from you what he wanted and you didn't dare protest when he pressed your hands together and started to tie them up. The fabric cut deep into your skin, the purpose of it clear. It wasn't decoration or some vague warning to keep your hands to yourself – Joel would do with your body as he saw fit and wanted to prevent you from fighting back.

"You know that I don't like punishing you like that, right?" he airyly whispered, his brown eyes making you feral. "You know that all of this could be so much easier if you fuckin' behaved."

He suddenly dropped your hands and you wriggled them once only to find that they were tightly tied together, the blood in your veins throbbing under the restriction. You moaned, thinking that it didn't fall under 'speaking' and then suddenly Joel's hands were on your body, grabbing your waist tightly and pulling you up the bed until your head was on the pillow. Your pleading eyes were on him, silently begging for a sign of softness or affection, but his jaw was still clenched and he looked far from giving you a reassuring kiss. Joel's hand reached for your wrists, coercing you to bend your arms so your hands were above your head, causing you to have even less freedom in your movements.

"You keep your hands up here. I can tie 'em to the bedpost if necessary. Clear?"

You nodded, biting down on your own lip and blinking as he rolled his eyes.

"You may speak now," he hissed and rolled off you while your pupils frantically danced over his frame.

"Y-Yes. I'll behave, I swear."

"Good. An' the same thing goes for your legs. I have enough ribbon to tie you up so you can't move an inch. I can blindfold you, gag you and whatever the fuck I can come up with. It depends on you if I have to. You keep those legs still, I'll leave 'em alone. You keep that mouth shut, I'll leave it alone."

You were still processing his words, your brain somehow mushy and hazy just from what he had done to you so far – which hadn't been a lot – while Joel rummaged through your top drawer and took everything you had proudly purchased earlier today and placed it on top of the bed.

"Y-Yes," you stuttered before realising that he hadn't actively asked you to speak up so you swallowed the last syllable and silently waited for his next move. Which came in form of his gaze slowly wandering down your body before he stopped on your ankles. You felt the urge to squirm under his eyes, his stare so hot and steamy that every hair on your body seemed to be ignited by the sparkle in his pupils. It was intimidating, yet had something so sensual about it.

With a groan, Joel hunched over to pick up an item from the bed and with a warm shudder you realised it was the nipple clamps.

Jesus.

Not that you regretted your choice of toys, but knowing that Joel was about to use all of this on you and he wasn't in the kind of mood to make it overly pleasurable for you… You certainly were in for a ride and although part of you had adapted to the thought that it would be tormenting and agitating, you were also just horny for him.

You followed every movement, your breath fastening as Joel crawled onto the bed to kneel next to your almost completely naked body. With a quiet hum, he connected his palm with your breasts, kneading the flesh and jiggling it in his hand, but you were yet restrained to let the enjoyment of it show. Too big was the fear that he was about to slap you or withdraw just the moment a moan slipped out of your mouth.

"So fuckin' pretty…," Joel snarled and took one nipple between his rough thumb and index finger. "Almost too pretty to hurt 'em with these… But you're leavin' me no choice, you know that right?"

You gave him a nod, supressing a whimper as he traced a circle around your nipple and the sensitive skin around it while his other hand intensively massaged your breast. The slap came unexpected, but it wasn't very sharp so you just inhaled through your nose and pressed your lips together to keep yourself from producing any kind of unwanted noise. Joel grunted, not keeping his eyes off your chest for a brief moment and then took the clamps that were connected with a thin, delicate chain and placed them on top of your stomach.

"Now let's see what we got…," Joel mumbled and carefully took one to pinch your sensitive nipple with it.

The pain shot through your body like a hot sting, making your nerves burn and your body cringe. Joel immediately hushed you, stroking the skin around the source of the pain and pursing his lips.

"Shhhh… Shh, babygirl. You bought this, remember? So you must've felt curious to try 'em."

You whimpered and pressed your legs together because along with the discomfort, there was something else. This tremendous, ecstatic desire creeping up your body like sticky, warm honey.

"Joel," you muttered, too stunned and high on the sensation to remember what he had told you, but fortunately he seemed to let it slide this time.

"Shh…," he just made again, gently tugging at the chain before positioning the other clamp around your other nipple. This time you were prepared for the pain, but it didn't make it any better. Your body was tense and stiff, your back buckled and your hands in fists when Joel clamped the cold metal around the small bud, causing you to hiss out. Tears were pooling in your eyes, but not the kind that worried Joel. It was more of a way to cope with the overwhelming combination of the cool, sleek hardness against your fervent nipples.

You stared down your body to where the toys dug into your skin, your mouth agape, but then your lashes fluttered as Joel cradled your head and leaned in to kiss your brow. You would have preferred to receive a loving kiss on your lips, but it was better than nothing.

"Pretty," he commented, sliding a hand down your face and neck before his hand came in contact with the chain, which he lightly pulled at to test your reaction. And it came in form of a yelp, your eyes squeezing shut and your lips pressing firmly together. The most special thing about these clamps was the fact that the sorrow wasn't just limited to your nipple area, but seemed to spread in your whole body, making even your toes curl under the stimulation.

Joel played with your body like that for a while, using his hands on your breasts to squeeze and palm, trail patterns across your chest and coming back to the clamps every now and then. He didn't go too far and made sure to soothe your breasts after causing you to whine in pain by an affectionate brush over the swell, yet you felt feverish when he finally drew back and watched the work of art. With a dart down your body your eyes widened and you felt strangely aroused. Your nipples were stiff and swollen, red like someone had painted them and your breasts covered in handprints and squeeze marks.

"Doesn't that look pretty…," Joel whispered, but climbed off the bed to walk around it until he stood by the end again.

"I wanna hear what you gotta say, little one. What you wanna say about your actions today."

You gulped, your hazy eyes on his entangled hands while he looked you up and down.

"I'm sorry. I – I will never… I'll never do something like that behind your back again. Please. Please, forgive me, Joel."

He exhaled loudly and then grabbed another item, but before you could see what it was, he was already between your legs, parting them roughly and pinning your knees down.

"I'll see if I'm gonna forgive you and it's gonna depend on how you're gonna take this now. Look at me."

Your eyes snapped open, taking in the crease between his brows, his clenched jaw and his white knuckles.

"You're gonna keep your eyes on me. If you look away, I'll punish you. I'm warnin' you right now. Here's where the music's playin'."

He pointed at his face, his adam's apple bobbing and then a hand cupped your sex, warm, cracked skin pressing firmly against your dripping core.

"Jesus… This is supposed to be a goddamn punishment. And here you are, soakin' my fuckin' hand. Eyes on me."

He delivered a slap to your pussy, the smacking sounding obscene and filthy and his teeth grinding at your squeal.

"Shut up. All I want you to do is be silent and look at me. S'that too much to ask for? After you made me that angry?"

"N-No," you whispered, choking on your own words, and then lifted your gaze again. Joel flexed his jaw and glided his hand between your legs again, rocking his palm against your throbbing clit. You cried out, your body urging to go pliant underneath him and let it all out – all the frustration and desire until he would ideally make you cum, but of course it wouldn't be so easy. You tried your best to be obediant and not move too much although it was hard, his hand gifting you more pleasure than you had dared asking for, but it still wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

Your calves were tensed, your pussy desperately clenching around nothing and when Joel rubbed the base of his palm over the underside of your bundle of nerves you couldn't hold back and writhed underneath him.

"One more time and I tie your fuckin' feet to the bedposts," Joel spitted, slapping your pussy again and then withdrawing.

Fuck, this wasn't what you had wanted to achieve.

With quick movements, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to remove the last piece of clothing keeping him from devouring you to the whole. And then the next thing you perceived were his hands fondling with something you couldn't see, your eyes still on Joel's face in case he would look at you, but then you felt an intrusion prodding against your entrance which definitely wasn't his hands.

"Joel," you breathed and grasped the bedsheets as he inserted the dildo you had bought today into your weeping cunt. You were beyond well-lubricated, your pussy practically sucking the toy in, yet you felt this indiscribable need to ask for more, plead him for things you couldn't identify yourself.

Joel slowly filled you with the dildo, oberserving your twisted face at all times and then exhaling once it was inside of you to the brim as though it had been him holding his breath under the unknown, unfamiliar penetration and not you. The toy was smaller than his dick which filled him with a primal, animalistic satisfaction, making his dick twitch under his jeans where a prominent bulge was looming over.

God, how he couldn't wait to feed you his cock, but before he could do that, he would have to teach you a few more lessons. Fuck you stupid on all those toys you had bought and then – once you were beyond fucked out – pound your pussy and squeeze one orgasm out of you after the other until you would beg him for mercy.

Joel bottomed out and then watched your eyes twitch while withdrawing and thrusting the toy in your pussy a few times until he pushed it into you to the hilt again. Then he let go and couldn't hide the grin as he watched your hips jerk forward. You were clearly craving more, your clit neglected and needy, but Joel made sure to change that soon. His hand trailed a line up your inner thigh, settling at the inside of your knees and parted them even further so you legs were forced to reveal your swollen needy nub.

"Poor baby," Joel cooed, inhaling sharply at the sight and smell of your glistening wetness and licking his lips. He was still restraining himself when he lowered his head to dive between your thighs, his tongue circling your clit once or twice – you certainly couldn't keep count – which brought you heaven for a short amount of time, but only made it worse when he raised his head again.

"Joel. Please," you moaned although you were well-aware that you were playing with fire right now. His nostrils flared, his teeth dangerously grinding, but to your surprise, he didn't say anything. He just pressed down on your lower belly, keeping you in place while reaching next to him to pick up yet another toy.

The bright pink immediately jumped into your eyes and you wriggled your toes in anticipation. The clitoral suction toy had been one of the things you had been looking forward to the most and now that it was Joel who was about to use it on you, you whinged in sheer lust.

"Greedy 'lil slut," he barked, giving your hip a spank and putting the little toy right on top of your clit. Then he hesitated, looking up your body to crookedly smirk at your blown pupils and gently tugging at the chain again.

"Stupid, stupid girl… Can't ever get enough, mhm? Always askin' for more and never satisfied with what you got."

He blared his teeth while skillfully turning on the device snug in your pussy, the vibrations instantly making your eyes roll back. Then he turned on the clitoral toy as well, his breathing shallow and rapid as he watched you squirm under the cumulative stimulation.

"I'm always takin' such good care of ya… Fuckin' you in the night and in the mornin' and whenever you want it and it's still not enough for ya. Spendin' fuckin' hours eatin' that goddamn pussy and she still wants more. S'pathetic."

His voice was low and husky, thick with his texan accent that was always more prominent when Joel was turned on. He watched you arching your hips, scratching the bedpost above you and wiping away the sweat on your forehead with your restrained hands for a while. You were so deeply immersed in this hazy bubble of sweet, sultry pleasure that you didn't feel humiliated at all by Joel examining you like that, you in such a vulnerable position while Joel remained fully dressed.

Your whole body was shaking and shifting, every hair on your body stiff and every inch of skin hot like there was a fire burning right next to you. It almost looked like you were possessed by a demon only that the demon was a very handsome, but right now very cruel man who now climbed onto the bed again, kneeling next to your shoulder and fumbling with his belt.

Your eyes were closed, therefore you couldn't see what was happening, but when Joel grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head upward, you knew what to do and wide-eyedly opened your mouth. Joel pushed his chin forward, his breath going in small hitches as he undid his jeans and shoved them down his legs along with his underwear.

His dick stood hard, so red and turgid like it was about to burst, and a drop of precum glittering on his tip. You glanced up to him as if to ask whether you had permission to lick it up, but before you could, Joel wrapped a hand around his shaft and pushed it past your parted lips. Your head was turned, your neck stiff after a few minutes, but Joel didn't slow down his punishing pace even as you wriggled beneath his tight grip in your hair. He pounded your mouth like you were a mere tool to get off and didn't flinch when your tied hands reached for his body and your nails scratched over his thighs in search of release.

In the meantime the toys in and on your pussy were still vibrating, sending electric shockwaves through your body and giving you intoxicating pleasure that only grew with time.

"Don't you dare fuckin' cum. You'll cum when I allow it," Joel spitted, his eyes on the way your hips buckled under the sweet friction against your clit. You choked and gurgled, spit leaking from the corner of your mouth and dripping onto his dick that was rapidly ramming into your mouth. You would have tried to withdraw, had his hand not been so uncompromising, your body completely at his mercy.

"Jesus fuckin'… Yeah. Take it. Take it like you deserve it."

He suddenly yanked you off his dick, a thread of spit connecting his shaft and your bottom lip and his lips curled into a wry and evil smirk.

"Tell me. Tell me that you deserve to get this mouth destroyed. Tell me that this is where you belong."

You whimpered, your lips tightly pressed together and your face twisted in zest. Your swollen clit was deliciously pulsing under the pressure sent from the toy and you feared that you couldn't hold back much longer.

"Please, Joel I – I deserve it. I deserve to be treated like this. Just please, I – I can't hold it."

"Yeah you can. You're gonna have to. I swear to fuckin' god if you won't, I'll tie ya up to the bedpost, fasten that vibrator on your clit and you're gonna cum all night. Did you fuckin' listen to me?" Joel fizzled, yanking your head back to force you to meet his gaze.

"Y-Yes. But, please."

"NO."

His hips jutted forward to feed you his cock once more and this time he went slower, but deeper. His tip kissed the back of your mouth, grazing the walls of your throat and triggering your gag reflexes whenever he was staying inside for too long. Fortunately you weren't super sensitive in the back of your throat, but even you couldn't withstand his brutal thrusts from time to time and had to tap out by fighting against the firm grasp in your hair.

Everything was sloppy and wet, spit running down your chin and dripping onto your chest and shoulders, but you were too messy to really pay attention to it. If there hadn't been this enchanting prickling between your thighs, this warmth gushing from your center to every last fiber of your body, you might have been able to slurp it all up, but you were already struggling to keep your eyes open.

When Joel came to a stop, your jaw was aching, your throat sore and your eyes puffy from all your crying. But at least you were able to take a deep breath. You blinked a few times, your pupils dancing over Joel's frame almost like you were confused about where you were and then moaned when he left the bed to go round it. With a low, quiet growl, he turned the vibrator on your clit off, which was a relief to you because although you had managed to push through without cumming and disappointing him, you had been on the verge at all times, always gripped by a fear of involuntarily releasing any moment.

He turned off the dildo as well and pulled it out of you with a forceful tug before dangling it in front of his face, his eyes wandering between your weak body and the object that was soaked with your juices.

"Open your mouth," Joel ordered while crawling up your body until he was hovering above you. You did as soon as the words had left his mouth and shrieked when he smacked you across the face.

What had you done wrong?

Your chin trembled and your glossy eyes opened to fearfully glance up to him and that was the moment you realised your mistake.

"I told you to keep those eyes on me," he whispered darkly, the quietness of his voice only making him appear more angry and cruel.

"I'm sorry," you instantly sobbed, sniffling and trying to wipe over your eyes with the back of your tied hands, but you only halfly succeeded.

"Now shut up and take it. I want you to clean this up until it looks like it did when you bought it. You remember that, don't you? If it's not clean when I pull it out, it's gonna go into your cute 'lil ass. And I don't think you'd like that."

A broken moan spilled from your mouth, but you didn't resist when he slowly pushed the dildo past your lips and twisted his face in amusement when your neck flexed and your body involuntarily buckled under the air restriction. This time Joel was on top of you though, caging and trapping you under his broad shoulders and you had no chance but to take it.

"Now where do you think you're goin', mhm?" he murmured, shaking his head at your kicking feet and petting your hair while thrusting the toy in your mouth.

"You better use that naughty tongue of yours to clean it now. Or do I have to repeat myself?"

Your chest trembled, but you did your best to comply with his words, running the flat of your tongue up and down the toy. You could taste yourself strongly, the salty wetness not unpleasant when you swallowed it and this time you knew you were doing well. Within a minute you were sure you had cleaned the whole toy and triumphantly darted up to Joel, who seemed to had found great pleasure in making you gag around the dildo.

"Nuh uh… Open wide," he purred when you attempted to make it slip out of your mouth and slid it deeper into your mouth. "We're not done yet, babygirl. You're doin' this so well. Show me everythin' you got."

He smirked and although you were choking under the intrusion - your eyes pinched close to defeat the tears pooling on your waterline - the fact that Joel seemed much less tense and replusive than half an hour ealier made you breathe a sigh of relief. Perhaps he would forgive you at last. He had to after teasing and torturing you like that.

Joel fed you the dildo one last time, hushing you when your torso restlessly flinched and writhed and running a hand down your side in a soothing manner.

"Take it. C'mon. Don't fight back, it's only gonna be worse if you do. That's right… just relax and open up."

You gulped and gasped in despair, a string of spit leaking from the corner of your mouth. You arched your back again, a painful whine that was only halfly muffled by the dildo escaping your throat, but Joel had you securely trapped underneath. His muscular, heavy body didn't leave any room for you to crawl away, but the weight of him on top of you also had something strangely arousing and exciting about it.

"C'mon. You can do it… You wanna make me happy, don't ya? Wanna make up for your mistake and have me forgive you. So fuckin' relax or I swear to god I'll put this elsewhere where you definitely don't want it."

In the end you managed to loosen and breathe through your nose, even though you were panting rapidly, sweat streaming down your back.

"Good girl… that's right… Knew you could do it. Just needa give you a real fuckin' warnin' and you remember your manners."

He suddenly withdrew, freeing your mouth with a plop and carelessly tossed the dildo beside him on the bed.

Then – and you were barely able to catch up with what was happening around you – he spread your legs, settled between them and ran his tip through your folds where your pussy lips felt swollen and puffy against his glans. Wet. As wet as an ocean he would be happy to drown in.

Joel grabbed your shoulder with his left hand while his right tapped his tip against your hole, circling it once, then twice and then entered you in one sharp thrust. It pushed you up on the bed, your face grimacing and your teeth grazing over your bottom lip.

"Joel…," you whined, throwing your head back and exposing your neck which he was quick to take advantage of. A firm hand traveled from your shoulder to your neck that looked so delicate and soft, he couldn't help himself. A light squeeze was all it took for you to clench around his length that was all the way inside you now, waiting and savouring the way your tight wet walls embraced him in a sweet hug.

"Jesus… This fuckin' pussy's gonna be the death of me. Fuckin'…"

He put pressure around your neck and simultaneously rolled his hips to start fucking you at a steady pace. You squealed and whimpered, tilted your head with the freedom of movement he granted you and grinded your teeth – anything to free yourself of the overwhelming and futile clamping in your belly and thighs. And Joel was happy to coax every last noise out of you.

"Yeah, s'it… Gonna fuck you dumb, babygirl… Fuck your brains out or what's left of it."

At this point he wouldn't have had to hold you down with his hand around your neck, but he kept it there nonetheless – perhaps to use it as leverage or to choke you. Either way, the limited air only added to the thrill, your breath catching in your throat and your fingertips digging into the mattress like you were searching for something underneath the surface.

"Joel. Joel, please."

"Shut up. Seems like I gotta fuck you harder until you finally. Shut. The. Fuck. Up."

He squeezed your throat at each word, making your eyes roll in the back of your head.

It turned out he stayed true to his words because in a matter of minutes your pussy was sore and your internal organs felt rearranged. Loud, wet smacking noises echoed off the walls, creating profane, pornographic sounds. His hips crashed against yours with such force that his pubic hair scraped your mound. Your cervix felt numb after a while, a loud gasp hitching in your throat every time his tip hit the spot deep inside of you and when Joel turned the vibrator on your clit back on, you thought you might lose it.

"Fuck. Fuck, Joel, I – "

At this point, you didn't care about his warnings, or better: You had forgotten everything about it. In truth, you probably would have struggled to remember your mother's name, had someone asked you about it in that moment, but this was nothing special for Joel. When he said he was going to fuck your brains out, in most cases it ended with your mind unable to form a coherent sentence and even if you had something to say, it usually left your body in form of an incomprehensable whine.

"I know I should've left you wet and needy for me, but god how am I supposed to resist this 'lil cunt? You can be happy she's so sweet 'n' warm, otherwise you would've spent the night watching me masturbate and cum all over your body. Now beg. Beg for me to let ya cum."

He suddenly flipped you onto your stomach, spanking you twice across your backside and then lifted your hips so you were forced to hold yourself up on your knees and elbows.

"I'm listenin'…," he whispered as he picked up the pace again and although you had believed it to be impossible, he went even faster, even more intensely.

"Ohhh… Joel, I – fuck."

"That ain't beggin', babygirl," Joel growled, hitting you again and forming a makeshift ponytail with his left hand to hold on to it while pounding your helpless pussy.

"Please. P-Please, I… Please lemme… lemme cum, Joel."

Your voice was quiet and indistinct, the words almost drowning in the filthy noises the two of you produced.

"Ain't enough, baby…."

Jesus Christ, he was enjoying this. He was enjoying hearing and seeing you like that. You could almost hear the grin in his voice and whinged in frustration about him. About everything.

"Please. Please, Joel, I – I swear, I…. I – I'll be good. I'll do whatever you say. J-Just please," you muttered, a high-pitched squeak spilling from your mouth when he turned off the device that was pressing firmly against your clit.

"N-No. No, Joel, you – you can't."

His hand palmed your hips before slapping your butt again, but your body felt too numb to really perceive it. All you could focus on was cumming, finally being redeemed from the heat between your legs and finding peace.

"Oh yes I can, babydoll. 'Cause I'm in fuckin' control here. Remember why I'm doin' this?"

You cried out, tears soaking the bedsheets where your head was resting on the cushions.

"'C-Cause I was bad. A-And I – I deserve it."

He seemed pleased with your answer because he turned the device back on, the soft buzzing sound music to your ears.

You couldn't make a mistake now.

You panted heavily, your knees wobbly and shaky, but at least he was giving you something. He just couldn't take it away again. You were dead silence almost as if Joel would forget about you and the pleasure you were finally receiving if only you stayed quiet.

Whatever it was in the end, whether he actually missed the signs of your approaching orgasm or he purposely made you cum – you did and it was soulcrushing. You raveled in waves and spurts of torrid pleasure, ecstasy blooming in your belly as you bit your lip bloody. All you could say was his name and god did you do it. Over and over again did his name - the source of this wonder - leave your mouth. Sometimes it was a faint whisper and sometimes a high-pitched cry. Every muscle in your body contracted and then loosened as the sensation slowly faded away, leaving you exhausted and tired, your limbs heavy, but your mind finally at ease.

"Joel," you murmured again - a light rasp in your voice - and weakly reached behind you to find anything. Only now did you realise that he hadn't slowed down and neither had the vibrator on your clit come to a stop.

"What are you doin' – " you managed to ask before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pressed your head into the pillow.

"Shh. No questions now. All I wanna hear from you is my name… Said it so beautifully just now."

He crookedly grinned, drawing together his eyebrows with acted pity as you painfully whined at the overstimulation on your clit.

You should have known.

You should have known that he wouldn't make this so easy for you. Of course there was a twist, of course there was a little something that you hadn't seen coming. You had been begging for release and now he had fulfilled you the wish only to give you so much more than you had asked for, challenging and tormenting you in new ways.

And so the vibrator stayed on your clit and his thrusts didn't slow down. Your body was too tired to fight back, your brain too mushy and your mouth too dry to tell him that it was too much, so you just took it and hoped that he would at least reward you for behaving so well.

It was no surprise to you that your second orgasm of the night approached you so quickly and it was in no way inferior to the first one, although it wasn't such a relief as the previous one. No wonder - you hadn't been looking forward to it for the past hour. Heat spread through your core, your knees pressing into the bed while you clenched your fists - tied and resting on the bed to your left - around the bedsheets so hardly, Joel feared you were going to rip them apart. So he replaced the fabric with his own hands and allowed you to squeeze them while riding out your orgasm.

"There ya go… Look at you, fallin' apart so wonderfully. That pussy's all tired now, mhm?"

You squealed, still high on the aftermath of your release when Joel manhandled you on your back again and finally undid the ribbon holding your wrists together, his face twisting in adoration at your flush cheeks.

"I think you got another one for me, don't you think so?"

You yelped and tightened your weak grip on his hand so he couldn't let go of you.

"N-No. I can't, Joel, please. I can't. S'too much. Hurts."

"Oh babydoll…," he cooed, stroking a sweaty strand of hair behind you ear, but not stopping despite his calming words and gesture.

"You can take it. We both know you can. You just need to lemme make ya feel good."

"Joel, please," you hiccuped and moaned in disapproval when he made you release his hands, only to press your wrists down on your stomach.

"I can't, please. Please." He exhaled, buttoming out and groaning as he hit you so deeply where you could never reach with your fingers.

"Does it hurt right 'ere?" he wanted to know and glanced at your lower belly where he pushed down on your hands.

"Y-Yes," you whimpered and restlessly bent and unbent your legs like it was a way to get rid of the pressure gushing from your center.

"You're gonna give me one more. Gonna have to let me cum inside you and I need you to squeeze my dick for that."

His words were deliberate and sounded like there was no room for any doubts or questions. And so you took it. Your clit uncomfortable pulsated and ached, the veins around his shaft hurting against your already sore walls, but you took it with the occasional whimpers. Then, with a record-breaking pace, you felt the third high of the night catch up to you.

"I'm gonna – Joel, fuck," you cursed, your toes curling in panic because if he wouldn't release you after this one, you were sure, you would break down crying.

"Yeah. Cum for me, desperate 'lil thing… Yeah, keep goin'… That's it," Joel groaned and suddenly reached for your breasts, removing the clamps from your nipples and twisting them between two fingers instead while finally releasing too. Ropes of cum filled you up to the brim, sticking to your walls like warm honey and making you all hazy and dumb. Still taken by your own third high of the night, you moved your knees up to your chest and shakingly brought your finally released hands to your lips to nibble at your thumb.

"Fuckin' god…," Joel growled, pushing back one last time to make sure his cum wouldn't spill out of you and then withdrew from your aching and overstimulated center.

"Jesus. This is what you were fuckin' made for. Cryin' 'n' moanin' over my cock."

He spanked your thigh before crawling down your body. Before you could process what was happening, he had removed the vibrator from your clit and his tongue was deep inside of your hole, his nose nudging against your hurting clit and your chest buckling.

"Joel, no…," you sobbed, throwing your head to the side and cursing his insatiability.

"Please, you said – you said you'd stop," you cried so heartbreakingly that he almost felt sorry for you. But what weighed heavier was his desire to taste both of your releases on his tongue so he didn't hesitate when he licked a strip up your slit, settling his tongue against your clit and rubbing over the sensitive underside.

"No… It's too much, Joel, please. I – I can't. I can't – "

The sentence was left unfinished, your lids fluttering and your nose wrinkling as he worked on your pussy like he had a job to do. Like he had never wanted anything as much as making you finish a fourth time tonight.

"Just one more, babygirl," he murmured, the words muffled by the way he pressed himself against your core.

"You already said that," you stuttered, sniveling loudly and not caring how gross it was. After all, your fragile state was his own fault.

"Just this one, babydoll. After that we'll be done. I fuckin' promise you. You've been so good for me… Such a good girl… Gonna let your body rest, just need you to cum on my tongue one last time."

The praise had its desired effect, your face softening at his sweet words. He was manipulating you, using your delicate and vulnerable state to get what he wanted and part of you knew that, but you couldn't do anything about it. His affectionate muttering made you melt away like snow in the sun and within seconds you opened your legs wider for him, clinging to the bedsheets while Joel's tongue guided you closer to the edge again.

He switched between your hole and clit, using his fingers to get the hood covering your bundle of nerves out of the way and drawing pattern across it. And when he craved a taste of your salty juices, he trailed the tip of his tongue down to your hole, pressing a captivating kiss on your entrance before dipping it inside. The method worked so well on you, you were being turned into a mess after minutes. Your hands were in his locks now and Joel didn't even mind. He relished everything about you, the moans and yelps, the way your face tensed and your forehead furrowed, the slight sting you created on his scalp and of course, first and foremost your taste and smell.

"C'mon. Cum for me, I got you…"

You whined as if you were in pain, but when your body began to tremble Joel proudly smirked and greedily kitten-licked your entrance.

"That's it, that's my good girl, keep cummin'… Wanna taste every last drop on my tongue…"

Your fingers and thighs twitched like you were energised, your lashes frantically moving until you collapsed with one last whimper.

"Fuck, yeah… Breathe now, doll, breathe… You're okay. You did so fuckin' well…"

Joel crawled up your soft body, propping himself on his elbows next to your head and leaning in to give you a tender and deep kiss. Then he grabbed your hands, carefully caressing the sore and red skin where the ribbon had left a little mark and placed them on top of your chest.

"Breathe… Jesus, baby, you're so good. So sweet and perfect, I love you so much."

He cradled the side of your face, brushing with his thumb over your temple where your pulse was thundering behind your skin.

"J-Joel?" you whispered, half-litted eyes searching for his face through the cloudy veil.

"Yeah, babygirl?"

"Are you still angry with me?"

Fresh tears were collecting in the corner of your eyes, ready to break down at the faintest hint of disappointment or anger in his face or voice. But Joel sighed, his eyes so soft that you wondered how this was the same person who had walked into the bedroom earlier, glaring at you with so much fury and contempt.

"No, of course not, baby. C'mere."

He rolled off you, lying down with his head on the cushions next to you and pulling your feeble body to his chest. You purred like a cat and almost wanted to cry in relief as his words fought their way through your mushy brain.

"I love you. So much, sweetpea. You're mine, my prettiest girl an' you're always safe with me."

Joel kissed you on top of your head and softly chuckled when you nestled closer to him until not even a piece of paper would have fit between the two of you.

"You know why I did it, right? Not 'cause I like seein' you in pain, but 'cause I needed you to feel what happens when you disobey me. When you do stuff behind my back an' then try to hide it. But I made you feel it 'n' I know you learned your lesson so now I'm not angry with you anymore."

You pressed your face against his collarbone, your heart fluttering at his familiar scent that reminded you of toasted almonds and sun-dried cotton while allowing the effects of his words to spread in your body. The swirling of the butterflies in your stomach region. The goosebumps on your nape.

"I love you. And I'm sorry. Really. I shouldn't have gone behind your back. Next time I'm gonna tell you if I wanna do something like that."

He draped his arm around your back, slowly stroking up and down your bare skin while his other hand was busy combing through your hair.

"Good. I know you're gonna learn from your lesson."

Joel slightly adjusted his position and then darted down at you.

"What do you wanna do now? I'm gonna clean ya up now, but then? You wanna cuddle? Or watch a movie like we talked about? Or just go to sleep? Eat something?"

Your head was spinning from all the options, your eyes big, which made Joel chuckle lowly.

"How about I get a washcloth and while I'm gone you think about it?"

You hesitated for a second, but then nodded.

"But be fast. I – I want you to be close to me."

"Of course babygirl. I'll be right back."

Joel kissed your brow and then got off the bed. You watched him with a heavy heart because every moment apart of him seemed like torture right now, but fortunately he stayed true to his words and hurried up. You could hear the water tap running and then, what felt like a second later, Joel walked through the door and knelt on the edge of the bed with a soft, assuring smile on his lips.

"Open your legs. I'll be careful, I promise."

Your overstimulated pussy rejected the touch of the rough fabric, yet you clenched your teeth and found comfort in the way Joel held your hands with his left while his right hand carefully cleaned the inside of your thighs, as well as your folds that were still sticky with your arousal – despite the way he had used his mouth on you to lick up every last drop.

His focused gaze was on what hid between your thighs, but the soothing, mellow looks he gave you every few seconds were just what you needed to relax on the bed until you barely paid attention to the way the washcloth brushed over your swollen folds anymore.

When Joel was done, you had also made a decision concerning the plan for the rest of the night and excitedly for his return, you intertwined your hands. He quickly made his way back to the bathroom, but this time he was even faster than previously.

"Okay, honey," he spoke as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his hands holding yours while he invitingly observed you.

"What do you wanna do?"

"A mixture of what you said before," you grinned and slightly sat up in the bed.

"I wanna watch a movie and cuddle until we fall asleep."

Joel lifted your hand to kiss the back of it before gently placing it on your stomach.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He suddenly slipped an arm under your knees, the other wrapping around your shoulders to pull you closer to him.

"Okay. Then let me help my princess get to the couch."

You giggled and clutched your hands around his shirt while Joel picked you up and leaned down to kiss your naked shoulder.

"I love you. More than anythin' in the world."

His voice was quiet, almost as if he was scared that anyone else would be able to hear them.

Because they were directed at you and you only.

You, the only person that truly mattered to him.

332 notes · View notes

tikitakatia · 3 months ago

Text

Escape — A. Putellas x Reader

"Getting Caught In The Rain"

WC: 3.8k

Summary: Alexia’s trying again, but it only makes you realize that it’s been a long time since you felt like you were seen and understood.

Pt. 1

Alexia didn’t say anything when she got home. Just dropped her bag by the door, kicked her shoes off with the practiced heaviness of someone trying not to wake anyone up. Even though it was 5:42 p.m. and the hallway light was still on. You were in the kitchen, pretending to read, pretending to care about the last email from work, pretending you weren’t holding your breath for her footsteps.

She walked past you without a word, without eye contact, and you thought, same old story. The sting had dulled by now, like pressing on a bruise out of habit.

Until you heard her voice.

“You, uh… you moved the plant.”

You blinked at the book in your lap. Took a slow breath.

“Yeah.”

“It looks good there,” she added. You could hear the words straining. Trying to sound casual. Normal. Like conversation was still a thing that lived in this house.

You didn’t answer.

“I was thinking,” she tried again, stepping further into the room.

“Maybe we could get a new one for the windowsill? Something low-maintenance. Like… a cactus or whatever.”

A cactus.

You turned the page. “We already have one.”

“Oh,” she said, and you didn’t even need to look to know she was scratching the back of her neck. “Right.”

Silence stretched long and thin.

You looked up. She wasn’t looking at you, not directly, just sort of gesturing toward the counter with a weirdly shy motion.

“I saw this at the airport. Thought you might want it.”

That made your eyes flick up.

She stepped forward, sheepish. Like she didn’t quite know how to be here anymore. She held out a small paper bag, wrinkled from travel.

“It’s dumb. I just saw it and… yeah.”

You took it carefully, like it was a bomb that was about to explode in your face. Inside it was a snow globe.

Small. A little cheap. Inside, a tiny, glitter-dusted coastline and a red kayak.

You stared at it for a beat, then another, your fingers going loose around the base. It was the same coastline you’d kayaked on together four summers ago, the time she got sunburned and made you stop every ten minutes to reapply SPF like a paranoid grandma. The one trip you still couldn’t think about without smiling, even if everything after it had unraveled.

“I remembered it made you laugh,” she said, voice so quiet you almost missed it. “That trip.”

You ran your thumb over the plastic base. “You remember that?”

Alexia shrugged. “I think about it more than you’d think.”

Your chest twisted. Not in pain. Not relief either. Something more complicated, and heavy and unsure.

You didn’t say thank you. But you didn’t hand it back. And that was maybe the biggest thing you’d done all week.

That night, you left it on the kitchen counter. You didn’t know why. Maybe so she’d see you hadn’t ignored it. Maybe so you’d believe it was real.

And in the morning, she was gone again. Off to training. But there was a small plate waiting on the counter. French toast, your favorite marmalade, a halved orange with the rind scored for easy peeling. A mug of coffee with a splash of milk, and whipped cream in the shape of a heart like she used to do.

And a note, scribbled in her hurried handwriting:

Hope today’s kind to you, take care.

— A.

You stared at it for a long time.

Then sat down and ate the toast.

She was in Bilbao this time. Another away game. Another cold bed, another text that never came. The trinket still sat on the shelf, the whipped cream heart a fading memory. You didn’t know what you were supposed to feel. Grateful? Guilty? Hopeful?

So instead, you opened Chattr.

[go4goald2]: Important question: would you rather fight one horse-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized horses.

[lostinthecrowd]: It’s 11pm and this is how you start???

[go4goald2]: You say that like it’s not the most vital debate of our generation

[lostinthecrowd]: I’d take the duck. 1v1. Eye contact. No mercy.

[go4goald2]: Bold. Disrespectful to the mini horses. But bold.

You laughed into your blanket, curled up on your side like a kid at a sleepover.

[lostinthecrowd]: They have tiny hooves. I’m not getting stomped to death by a barbie pony.

[go4goald2]: Tiny hooves, BIG ambition. Don’t underestimate ponies. They´re evil.

[lostinthecrowd]: I feel like there's a story behind this. Also can’t believe this is how I’m spending my night.

[go4goald2]: I can. And it’s perfect. Admit it.

You grinned. Tucked your phone closer like it was a secret you wanted to protect.

The conversation spiraled into weird snack combos, irrational childhood fears (yours: mascots, theirs: escalators), and an intense five-minute tangent on the politics of sock-and-sandal combos.

Your cheeks actually hurt from smiling. And somewhere between their rant about pineapple pizza and your confession that you once tried to cook pasta in a kettle, something softened inside you.

You typed, slower now:

[lostinthecrowd]: My partner did something nice for me today. Out of nowhere.

[go4goald2]: Whoa, plot twist. What kind of nice?

[lostinthecrowd]: Just… a small gift. Not flashy. Thoughtful.

[go4goald2]: You’re being suspiciously vague and I’m incredibly nosy. Spill.

[lostinthecrowd]: It’s tied to a memory. Something small, but really specific to us. A moment we shared years ago.

[go4goald2]: Okay wow. That kind of gift hits like a freight train.

[lostinthecrowd]: Yeah, it really did. Caught me completely off guard, I didn’t know how to react.

[go4goald2]: Because it reminded you what it used to feel like to be known?

[lostinthecrowd]: Exactly that. Like someone woke a part of me I forgot was still there.

[go4goald2]: Do you think it was intentional? Like… a real attempt?

[lostinthecrowd]: I want to think so, but then it just made everything feel more fragile.

[go4goald2]: It’s weird how one small thing can make your whole chest ache.

[lostinthecrowd]: It made me remember how much I miss her, or who she used to be. Or maybe who I used to be when we were still okay.

[go4goald2]: You still deserve those moments even if they’re rare. Even if they confuse the hell out of you.

[go4goald2]: And for what it’s worth… I'm really glad you told me.

You let your phone rest against your chest, pulse kicking up a little. It felt too good. Too soft. Too dangerous.

Because it wasn’t just that they cared. It was that they cared in real-time. Gave you space to unravel and didn’t shy away when the threads got messy.

Your lips tilted into a smile. Tiny, involuntary, like a reflex from some version of you that hadn’t been used in months.

Alexia hadn’t texted once. Not even after the match. Not even a “night.”

But this stranger had stayed up with you.

Held space for you.

Made you feel like a person instead of a ghost someone used to love.

And that flutter came back. Not a rush, just a flicker. A warmth that settled behind your ribs like the beginning of something.

You didn’t push it away.

But god, the guilt that followed.

You weren’t doing anything wrong. You told yourself that. Over and over.

But the truth was, your smile hadn’t looked like this in months.

And your wife hadn’t been the one to cause it.

You didn’t expect anything when you unlocked the door. Maybe a quiet hallway. The faint hum of the fridge. Your own footsteps echoing against the tile. It had become a rhythm now. Come home, drop your bag, exist in silence. You had stopped hoping to be greeted. Stopped wondering what mood she’d be in.

So when the smell hit you: sharp, burnt and unmistakably wrong, it made you pause mid-step. There was a bitter tang in the air, like overcooked garlic and something else. Something sour. A hint of lemon buried under the scent of a meal gone wrong.

You followed it to the kitchen and stopped in the doorway.

Alexia was standing in the middle of it, barefoot, her hoodie sleeves rolled up, her hair pulled back in that messy twist she only did when she was stressed. There was a pan smoking on the stove. A cutting board covered in unevenly chopped herbs. The sink was full of pots. And her face, her face looked wrecked in the most human way.

She glanced up when she saw you, startled. “Shit. You’re home early.”

You weren’t.

You said nothing.

“I was trying to…” she gestured vaguely to the chaos around her.

“Dinner.”

You stepped further in. Looked at the pan. Something once resembling chicken was stuck to the bottom, blackened and curling at the edges like it was trying to leave the scene of the crime.

“It’s your favorite,” she added quickly. “That lemon-herb thing. The one I used to make after we went to the farmer’s market on Saturdays. Remember?”

You did. Back when the kitchen smelled like warm citrus and clean herbs, when she’d dance barefoot to whatever song was playing, bump your hip and kiss your neck while the chicken rested. That version of the dish smelled like comfort. This one smelled like frustration and something sour unraveling.

“Something went wrong with the sauce,” she mumbled. “Or maybe I forgot how to… I don’t know. I was trying.”

And god, she looked so small at that moment. Not physically, Alexia was never small, but emotionally. She looked like a little kid caught drawing on the walls, holding out sticky fingers and hoping it still counted for effort. It knocked something loose in your chest.

Your heart didn’t break. It cracked. Just a little.

You stepped in. Reached past her and turned off the burner before the fire alarm could make things worse.

“We can save it,” you said quietly, even though you knew it wasn’t true.

She stayed where she was, arms hanging a little helplessly at her sides while you opened the fridge and scanned for solutions. There was a half-used tub of ricotta, a jar of pesto, and some leftover stock. You pulled them out without speaking. It was easier this way, fixing things with your hands and not your voice.

“I thought it might be nice if you didn’t have to cook tonight,” she said softly, somewhere behind you. “You’ve been working so much, and I wanted to do something.”

You kept your back to her. “You could’ve just asked me to cook with you.”

“I didn’t want to make you do more work.”

“I don’t want to feel like a guest in my own kitchen.”

There was a long pause. Then the quiet sound of her setting down a spoon.

You poured a little cream into the pan, scraping at the burnt edges while the sauce hissed and fought you. You could feel her watching you closely and carefully. Like if she stared hard enough, she’d understand how to fix it all.

She moved to stand beside you. Too close. Her arm brushed yours lightly, and you flinched. Not because you were scared. Just because you weren’t used to being touched anymore. Not by her. Not kindly. Not like this.

She froze. You saw it from the corner of your eye. Her shoulders tensed. The guilt bloomed across her face. But you didn’t say anything. And she didn’t try again.

Instead, she grabbed plates and set the table while you boiled pasta and tried to coax the ruined sauce into something edible. It wasn’t good. But it was something.

By the time you sat down, the steam had mostly settled. She watched you take a bite, searching your face for any kind of reaction. You chewed. Swallowed. Didn’t make a face.

“It’s fine,” you said.

And she smiled, almost like that was a win.

Not a real smile. But something tired and tentative. Something that said thank you for not hating me tonight.

The two of you sat in that dim kitchen, eating a salvaged dinner that tasted like memory and ash. And for a moment you could almost remember what it was like to share a life that didn’t feel so quiet.

Even if you didn’t trust it just yet.

You didn’t go to bed after dinner.

Alexia did though. She didn’t say it directly, but you saw the way her shoulders slumped after the dishes were done, the way her fingers lingered awkwardly near your elbow like she might touch you and thought better of it. She murmured something like “I’m gonna lie down”, then disappeared down the hall with slow footsteps and a closed door that didn’t quite latch.

You couldn’t follow her. You weren’t ready to share a space that intimate. Not yet. Maybe not ever again.

So instead, you took a half-full bottle of wine from the fridge, grabbed a throw blanket off the back of the couch, and slipped outside. The balcony used to be your favorite spot together. Just two chairs, some tangled fairy lights strung along the railing, the soft hum of the city below. You used to sit out there for hours, her legs tangled with yours, music playing low from your phone while she pointed out constellations she made up on the spot. There was always laughter. Always warmth. That soft, lived-in kind of love.

Now it was just cold metal and silence. One chair is empty. The lights were still up but never turned on. Like the memory of joy had been boxed up and left to fade in the wind.

You curled into the blanket, set the wine between your knees, and stared out at the city that didn’t notice you anymore. This was your nest now. Quiet. Still. Full of grief that didn’t ask for attention, just stayed perched and waiting.

And then, like muscle memory, you opened Chattr.

There was already a message waiting.

[go4goald2]: I tried tonight. Made an effort and still fucked it up.

You exhaled, soft and surprised. A strange flutter of recognition sparked in your chest.

[lostinthecrowd]: That’s more than a lot of people do.

[go4goald2]: Doesn’t feel like enough.

[lostinthecrowd]: What happened?

[go4goald2]: I wanted to do something good, something small. I thought it would matter, but all I did was remind her how long it’s been since I got it right.

You rested your chin on your knee, letting the blanket shift around your shoulders. The night air was cool against your skin.

[lostinthecrowd]: The effort counts even if it’s awkward and late.

[go4goald2]: I don’t know. Sometimes I think it just makes things worse. Like I pop back up trying to play house and she’s already rewritten her life without me in it.

You hesitated before responding.

[lostinthecrowd]: What made you pull away in the first place?

The reply didn’t come fast. A full minute passed. Then two. You thought maybe they’d closed the app.

But then the typing bubble appeared.

[go4goald2]: I got busy. I know it's not an excuse, but it started with wanting to give her everything and to make things easier. Pay the bills, say yes to every work gig and be someone she could be proud of.

[go4goald2]: But then it became… noise. So many meetings, late nights planning the next steps at work, connecting with investors and people wanting things from me all the time. Every time I came home, I felt like a shell. But she was still there, always waiting patiently. I didn’t know how to face her.

[go4goald2]: So I stopped showing up. Told myself I'd come back when I was less tired and more present. But I kept putting it off until it became normal to be gone.

You swallowed hard. Something about the rhythm of it, and the way they said “be someone she could be proud of” twisted in your chest.

[go4goald2]: And now I don't know how to come back. Not without her seeing everything I let fall apart.

[go4goald2]: I'm ashamed.

You stared at the screen.

Because how do you comfort someone whose regret sounds so familiar it might as well live in your house?

[lostinthecrowd]: It’s not too late, not if you mean it. Not if you’re willing to rebuild instead of rewind.

Another pause.

[go4goald2]: What if she doesn’t believe me anymore? What if I waited too long?

[lostinthecrowd]: Then show up anyway, consistency is louder than promises.

A breeze caught your hair, lifting it off your forehead. You tilted your head back and closed your eyes, breathing through the weight in your ribs.

[go4goald2]: I want her to know I see her. Really see her. Not just when she’s upset, not just when she’s slipping away, but every day.

You didn’t respond right away.

Your thumbs hovered, useless, the words sitting heavy on your screen.

There was something about the way they phrased it, quiet and earnest. Like they meant it, even if they didn’t know how to say it out loud to the right person yet.

You sipped your wine and stared out over the city. The lights blurred softly against the dark, the breeze tugging gently at the frayed edges of the blanket in your lap.

You used to be seen like that. Or maybe you just liked to think you were.

You put your phone down for a second, face tipped to the sky, letting the silence settle where something like comfort should’ve been.

And when the tears came, they weren’t loud. Just slow. Private. The kind that don’t ask to be noticed. The kind you wipe away quickly, just in case someone walks out and asks if you’re okay.

But no one did.

The effort started showing up in little things.

Alexia folding the laundry before you got to it. Running to the store to pick up oat milk without being asked. Saying “Want to watch something?” instead of disappearing into the bedroom with her headphones and going on a call with her agent. She didn’t get it all right, she brought home the wrong brand of oat milk, folded the sheets inside out, and picked a movie you’d already seen twice. But she was trying. God, was she trying.

It wasn’t the kind of effort that made your heart swell. It made it ache. Because it felt like watching someone fumble through a routine they used to know by heart and now had to relearn from scratch.

On Wednesday night, she came home with takeout from that noodle place near your old apartment. The one you used to walk to in the middle of summer, sweaty and stupidly in love. She placed the bags on the counter like a peace offering and said, “Thought we could eat together tonight?”

You nodded. She brightened like it mattered.

She talked through most of dinner. Nothing serious. Just training, the new physio, the girl on the team who always forgot her cleats. You let her talk. Let her fill the space. She was trying to be light. Normal. Like maybe if she kept talking, she could talk you back into caring.

And for a second, you let her believe it was working.

After dinner, she hovered. You were rinsing dishes and she leaned against the counter, fingers tapping nervously against the edge. You knew that look. That “I want to say something but I’m scared of the words” look.

“I’ve been thinking…” she started, voice quiet. “About us. About how I’ve-”

Her phone buzzed. Loud. Jarring.

You saw the hesitation. The flicker of conflict.

But she answered it.

“Yeah?” she said, already walking toward the hallway. “No, it’s fine. I’ve got a minute.”

And just like that, the moment shattered.

You turned back to the sink, slowly rinsed out the last bowl. The water ran too hot, but you didn’t adjust it.

She didn’t come back in. You heard the bedroom door click closed a few minutes later.

The next night, she showed up with your favorite wine. The one you used to save for anniversaries or good news. She held it up like a trophy. “Got this on the way home. Figured we could split it and hang out a bit.”

You stared at the label. Something in your chest twisted.

“I can’t drink,” you said, keeping your voice even. “I’m on antibiotics.”

She blinked, thrown. “Oh. Since when?”

You shrugged. “Couple days. I’ve been sick.”

“Oh,” she said again.

She looked like she wanted to say more, but didn’t. Just set the bottle down and muttered something about putting it away for later.

You stood there for a moment after she walked off. Letting the silence settle over your shoulders like a too-heavy coat.

She hadn’t noticed.

You’d been in bed for two days. Tired, congested, barely eating. And she hadn’t noticed.

Not until you said it out loud.

Still. You weren’t made of stone.

There were moments where her effort chipped at something soft. The way she offered you tea that night without you asking. How she turned off the hallway light so it wouldn’t bother you when you tried to nap. How she lingered a little longer at the door when she left for training, like she wanted to say something.

But the thing that hurt most was how she still couldn’t say the one thing that mattered: I miss you.

She tried everything else. But not that.

Later, once the house had gone quiet and the wine sat untouched in the cabinet, you curled up on the couch with a blanket and opened Chattr.

[lostinthecrowd]: You ever feel like someone’s knocking, but it’s on the wrong door?

[go4goald2]: Jesus, yeah. All the time.

[go4goald2]: Weird coincidence… I always feel like I'm on the other side of that.

You smiled. A small one. Just for yourself. Sad. Quiet. The kind that doesn’t touch your mouth, only your chest.

[lostinthecrowd]: Someone brought me something today. Something they thought I'd love, but they didn’t realize I couldn't have it.

[go4goald2]: Ouch. That's… rough.

[lostinthecrowd]: Yeah, it’s like they remembered the old version of me. Not who I am now.

[go4goald2]: I get that. It's like when someone keeps reaching for the person they think you are, and you’re standing there, changed, wondering if they’ll ever notice.

[lostinthecrowd]: Exactly.

[go4goald2]: They probably meant well, doesn’t make it hurt less though.

[lostinthecrowd]: No. It doesn’t.

There was a beat of silence. Only the glow of your phone, the buzz of the city outside the balcony, and the heaviness in your chest that had nowhere else to go.

[go4goald2]: I think I want to want them again but I don't know if that’s the same thing as actually wanting them.

[lostinthecrowd]: I think that’s the loneliest kind of love.

The typing bubble appeared. Vanished. Appeared again.

[go4goald2]: What are you doing right now?

[lostinthecrowd]: Talking to you. Not sleeping. Being dramatic. The usual.

[go4goald2]: Good. Stay.

And so you did. Talking about nothing and everything. How certain smells always bring you back to childhood. How you hate the sound of ticking clocks. How lately, someone’s been trying to come back to you and you want to believe it matters. You really do. But there’s a part of you that keeps wondering if effort can still mean something after the silence has settled in too deep.

You didn’t mean to say that last part out loud. But you did. And they didn’t mind.

Alexia was down the hall. Lights off. Door closed.

You were somewhere else entirely.

Pt. 3

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band--psycho · 1 month ago

Text

Poly!141 x Reader - Stop The Wedding (Part 6)

Thank you all so much for the continued love you're giving this story! It honestly means so much to me! 💛

I hope you all enjoy this part 💛

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated! Thank you for all the continued support 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Catch up on the previous part here: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 /Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13

Warnings: Feelings of anger, confusion, sadness, jealousy, brief mentions of death/being killed/being shot, angst

COD Modern Warfare Masterlist /Taskforce 141 Masterlist /Join My Taglist

You were lying on your sofa, simply reading and relaxing after what had been an exhausting day of wedding preparation.

Your social battery was absolutely drained, you didn’t want to talk to anyone; you just wanted to read your current book and chill, before going back to work.

Thankfully, Phillip knew you well enough to know how socially exhausting today had been, and decided to go out with some work colleagues to give you some space.

He was good like that.

You were so engrossed in the book, that the sudden ringing of your doorbell made you jump a little.

You scowled at the door as though the inanimate object itself was the source of your distraction.

You knew it wasn’t Phillip, he’d made sure to take his keys in case you fell asleep before he got home.

Knowing that it wasn’t your fiance at the door made you a lot more reluctant to open it; especially given that it was 9pm and starting to get dark outside.

But then the bell rang again, followed by several quick yet short knocks.

Whoever it was was certainly persistent.

A defeated sigh left your lips as you placed the book down on the small coffee table next to you.

All you wanted to do was read and have a peaceful evening, was that too much to ask for?

You’d only just got to your feet before the ringing of the bell came once again.

“Just gimme sec, jeez,” you shouted from the living room, quickly walking into the hallway and opening the door.

“Look, I don’t know what-” you began your voice trailing off as you stared at the four men in front of you.

“Nope,” you pretty much shouted at them, attempting to slam the door in their faces, but the door was halted by Simon’s foot on the bottom of the door frame.

He didn't flinch.

Not even a little.

“We just wanna talk, sweetheart ” John spoke, leaning his head around the door slightly so that he could see you.

“I don't want to talk to you,” you snapped back, “and don’t call me, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” John apologised, even in the dim light of your porch, you could see the hurt flicker in his eyes at your words.

“How did you even know where I live?”

“We had some help with that,” Johnny admitted, his voice coming from behind John, his figure hidden.

You didn’t need to ask who.

You knew who.

Kate Laswell.

Well now you just felt like all your privacy had been violated; fantastic.

“Please, just let us explain why we’re here,” Kyle urged.

You couldn’t understand what had changed in such a short time with Kyle, one minute he was congratulating you on your engagement and apologising for his partners uninvited arrival at your workplace, the next he was partaking with them in an uninitiated arrival at your home.

Another sigh fell from your lips; knowing that there was no way you were going to be able to close this door with Simon’s foot wedged on the frame.

You didn’t really want to let them in.

But what choice did you really have?

Your mobile was in the living room so you couldn’t exactly call anyone.

“Y/n, please,” Simon's plea filled your ears; you suppose you should be grateful he wasn’t forcing himself into your home, you knew his strength, knew he could easily just shove the door and be inside the house already.

You pulled the door back, away from Simon’s foot and looked at all four of them, crossing your arms across your chest, trying to keep control of the anger burning inside of you.

Your eyes met John first; hearing a relieved sigh fall from his lips.

Next to him was Simon, unreadable as ever.

Behind Simon was Johnny, who you noticed was wearing the hoodie you stole and slept in for a month when you were dating.

And next to the Scotsman was Kyle, who looked nervous, you noticed how much he was fidgeting behind John.

It was weird; you’d never really seen Kyle nervous before.

And his nervousness only added to your confusion as to why they were here.

What were they expecting?

To just pop back up in your life and waltz back in as your partners like nothing had ever happened?

“What are you doing here?” Your questioned firmly, part of you desperate to have an explanation as to why they were here.

The other part, knowing that their answer, regardless of what it was, was probably going to involve you cancelling your wedding which just simply enraged you.

“We need to talk,” John stated, his voice continuing to remain calm despite the evident rage in your words and actions.

“I gathered that,” you snapped back coldly, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself down before talking again.

“What about?”

“About Graves,” Johnny answered, his eyes meeting yours.

Graves?

Phillip?

They wanted to talk to you about Phillip?

Johnny called him Graves instead of Phillip….like he knew him…how the hell could he or any of them know Phillip.

Your stomach flipped as your confusion grew, "Phillip?"

“Just let us come in and we’ll explain,” Kyle stated; you knew letting them in was probably going to be a bad idea.

You knew they wouldn’t hurt you, not physically at least; but that didn’t mean that you weren’t going to be more pissed off with them by the time they left.

Slamming the door in their faces wasn’t an option either, evidently.

And you couldn’t help but be curious, curious about what shit they’d managed to make up to persuade you to not marry your Fiancé.

You were certain it was about that subject at least.

You stared at them; the four men you'd loved, the four men you'd trusted with everything, and stepped back, pulling the door fully open.

“You’ve got ten minutes, after that I’m calling the police,” you warned, watching as the four men filed into your home, walking down the hallway and into your living room.

It was a bizarre feeling, seeing people that you thought you’d spend a future with in a home you’d built (metaphorically) with the person you were actually going to spend your future with.

You noticed each of them looking around at different things; a sense of familiarity washing over each of them as they recognised things that used to live within the walls of their home.

Little things, like candles, pictures, throws that were over the sofa.

“Talk,” you instructed, making them all turn and look at you.

“You can’t marry Graves,” Johnny began, taking a step closer to you.

You backed away, a bitter laugh leaving your lips as you shook your head, “none of you, have the right to tell me who I can and cannot marry.”

“He’s not who you think he is,” Kyle continued, mimicking Johnny's steps.

His words made your blood boil.

“Pot kettle,” you snarked back.

None of the men before you turned out to be the people you believed them to be; but Kyle had the audacity to say that about the man you were marrying; and your response signified that.

“Y/n, you can’t trust him,” John stated, only adding to your anger.

“But I can trust you right, John?” The sarcasm was dripping in your voice; and you didn’t even care at the frustrated and hurt look he gave you.

Part of you felt like you were going insane; the people who broke your heart were standing here telling you that you couldn’t trust your soon to be husband, without actually giving you any reason why.

“Why do you seem to believe I can’t trust him?” You asked exasperatedly, losing your patience,

Simon took a few strides towards you, you went to back away but the cabinet behind you halted your movements.

“He shot Johnny,” his tone was quiet, as though he was worried there was someone outside of this room was going to hear him.

You felt all the rage inside you freeze at his words for a brief moment.

Your eyes searched Simon’s; looking for an indication that he was lying, but there was none, all you could see was truth in his eyes.

You glanced behind Simon’s muscular figure to look at Johnny; searching for confirmation of Simon’s accusation.

“Shot me in the arm when we were in Mexico, before trying to kill Si and me,” Johnny explained, taking his hoodie off to show you the scar on his arm.

This couldn’t be real.

They had to be making it up to just stop the wedding from happening….but something inside you, something deep down inside of you couldn’t help but believe the words they were saying.

“You’re lying,” you whispered, unsure of who you were trying to convince, them or yourself.

“I’m not,” Simon stated, his eyes meeting yours, “you know I’m not.”

Simon kept certain things from you during your relationship; that was true, but he never lied to you.

Never.

He was always straight with you about the things he felt comfortable talking about and if he didn’t want to talk about something, he simply told you that.

“He’ll try to deny it,” he continued, “Or he’ll say we’re twisting the story to get you back,”

His voice was firm, but his eyes were soft, you felt a slight ache in your heart as you stared into them, the moments you shared flashing through your mind, the good and the bad.

“Isn’t that what you’re trying to do, twist the story?” You whispered, tearing your eyes away from Simon’s to look at the others.

“Why did he try to kill you?” The words felt foreign leaving your mouth, your mind barely processing the words you were saying.

“He had his orders,” John answered simply as Simon took a few steps away from you, allowing you to see the captain and the others.

A shaky breath escaped your lips.

What did you do with this information?

Phillip was a soldier, you knew that; you’d assumed given his job that he’d killed people; just like the men currently in this room had.

But trying to kill Johnny and Simon….it made you feel sick to your stomach and confused.

“Ye cannae trust him and ye certainly canne marry him,” Johnny spoke softly, clearly seeing how confused you were by what was going on.

“Do you guys just enjoy ruining my life?” You scoffed, feeling the tears beginning to form in your eyes, attempting desperately to blink them away.

You were not going to cry.

Not in front of them.

Not again.

You refused to.

“Quite the opposite, love,” Simon replied back solemnly, “we fuckin’ hate it.”

“Then why can’t you just let me be happy?”

“You can be happy, with anyone else,” John responded back softly.

“Just not him,” Kyle finished; wanting nothing more than to hold you so you could cry properly whilst he comforted you.

You glanced up at the clock, realising that their time had ended and now they had to leave, before you completely broke down.

“Your ten minutes is up,” you pointed out to them, nodding towards the clock on the wall.

“Y/n-,” Johnny started, reaching out to you, not wanting to leave you like this, not again.

But you shrugged away his touch; worried that you would lose what little composure you were holding on to if you let his fingers linger on you.

“Get out,”

Your words were harsh, anger and sadness morphing together and leaving no room for a discussion to be had.

"I'm sorry," Kyle whispered his apology to you as they all began to file out of the room.

It was only when you heard the door close that you let yourself break down; trying to wrap your head around the fact that the man you’re in love with tried to kill two of the people who’d once been as important to you as he was.

Taglist:

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bestofmultiverse · 8 months ago

Text

Between the pages || 2

Aubrey plaza x fem!reader

" I was half in love with her by the time we sat down. That’s the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty, even if they’re not much to look at, or even if they’re sort of stupid, you fall half in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are. "

- J.D. Salinger, The catcher in the rye

Part 1 • Part 3 • 4 • 5

Y/N blinked, trying to get her bearings in the soft morning light streaming into her bedroom. She wasn’t on the sofa anymore, and she certainly hadn’t fallen asleep in her bed last night. But here she was, tucked neatly under her comforter, and beside her, separated by a few pillows, lay Aubrey. She was asleep, her face softened by rest, her features even more striking in the early morning calm.

A smile crept across Y/N’s face as she studied Aubrey’s peaceful expression. She was undeniably beautiful—not just beautiful for her age, but in a way that felt timeless and grounded. It made Y/N’s stomach flutter, and a slight pang of insecurity hit her; Aubrey was everything Y/N admired—confident, talented, and effortlessly alluring.

Feeling her heart race at the thought of Aubrey waking up to see her staring, Y/N slipped out of bed as quietly as possible, padding to the bathroom for a quick shower. When she returned, she busied herself in the kitchen, quietly making breakfast. The faint hum of the radio kept her company as she toasted bread and scrambled eggs, relishing the simple, cozy act.

“Good morning,” a familiar voice murmured, soft and sleepy, breaking Y/N out of her thoughts.

Y/N turned, catching sight of Aubrey leaning against the doorway, her hair still mussed from sleep. She looked comfortable, yet somehow effortlessly poised, even in Y/N’s small kitchen. Y/N blushed, realizing how close they were.

“Good morning! Do you want something to drink?” Y/N asked, smiling. “I don’t really drink coffee, but I can go grab you some from the café around the corner if you’d like.”

Aubrey’s lips curved into a warm smile. “No need, this is perfect. I’m just happy to be here.” She stepped closer, glancing at the plates Y/N was setting up.

“So… not to rush you out, but I have a mountain of work today,” Y/N said with a small, guilty grin. “You’re welcome to stay, but just a heads-up—I might be a little boring.”

Aubrey laughed, her expression softening. “That’s okay, I get it. I have some things to get to anyway.” She hesitated, then continued, “But… I’d love to see you again, if you’d like that.”

Y/N’s face lit up, her smile wide and genuine. “I’d love that too.”

From then on, their connection only grew. They read together, taking turns with books y/n recommended, and spent hours talking about everything from their childhood dreams to favorite movies. After their third date—a late-night visit to a bookstore followed by a stroll through a quiet park—Aubrey walked Y/N home. They held hands, a shared warmth between them, and when they reached Y/N’s door, Aubrey leaned in, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to her lips. It was careful, as if reading Y/N’s shyness and matching it with tenderness.

As the days turned into weeks, they grew more comfortable, falling into each other’s lives seamlessly. Aubrey was patient, taking her time to get to know Y/N. She made Y/N feel safe, and Y/N adored every minute they spent together. Soon, they were FaceTiming in between meetings, texting about little things that made them think of each other, and finding moments to be together whenever they could.

When they finally crossed that last boundary, sharing their first night together, it was both gentle and passionate. They communicated, both eager yet considerate, learning each other’s wants and needs. Aubrey’s natural confidence took over, her assertiveness balanced by her desire to make Y/N feel loved and respected. Y/N, in turn, was just as attentive, savoring every moment with Aubrey, discovering a balance between playful and deeply intimate.

Two months into their relationship, it wasn’t just the two of them who noticed how special their connection was. After a dinner date, a paparazzi photographer managed to capture a candid shot of them leaving the restaurant hand in hand. By morning, the image was everywhere, spreading faster than Y/N could have imagined.

Aubrey’s publicist called with the news, explaining that the story had already taken off. Y/N knew Aubrey was a public figure, but she hadn’t expected their private moments to become public conversation so suddenly. Their little bubble was shattered, and suddenly her face was online, next to Aubrey’s in articles and tabloid stories speculating about their relationship.

The attention was overwhelming. Y/N’s friends started teasing her about dating “the Aubrey Plaza,” while her family’s reaction was more complicated. They had always known she was queer, but the age difference gave them pause, making them wonder if Y/N was really ready for such a serious relationship.

As the media frenzy grew, it was hard for Y/N to brush off the harsh comments online—insinuations about why Aubrey would date someone younger, or assumptions about Y/N’s motives. It felt as if the world was intruding into their private life, prying apart the joy they had found together.

But Aubrey was her anchor through it all. Late one evening, after Y/N shared how overwhelmed she felt, Aubrey wrapped her arms around her and whispered, “Forget them. I know who you are, and you know who I am. The rest… it doesn’t matter.”

They held each other close that night, letting the world outside fade, finding comfort in each other’s presence. And as they lay there, Y/N knew that, no matter the scrutiny, what she shared with Aubrey was real, something worth fighting for—even if they’d have to face the world together, one step at a time.

As days went on, the intensity of the media attention didn’t exactly die down, but Y/N and Aubrey learned to adjust. Aubrey handled it with practiced ease, guiding Y/N with little tips on how to ignore the comments and dodge prying eyes. Despite the pressure, they found solace in each other, learning to carve out quiet moments that felt like their own little world.

One evening, they decided to stay in for a movie night at Y/N’s apartment. Y/N had loaded up a few of Aubrey’s favorite old films, trying her best to make it feel special—a few candles, some popcorn, and a cozy blanket they could share.

“You know,” Aubrey said, settling down next to Y/N, “I don’t think I’ve had a better night in ages.” She glanced around, smiling at the thoughtful touches Y/N had put together. “You really went all out.”

Y/N blushed, nudging her playfully. “It’s just popcorn and candles. Hardly a red carpet.”

Aubrey smirked, tilting her head. “It’s the thought, and you, that make it perfect.” She reached for Y/N’s hand, entwining their fingers, and squeezed gently.

As the movie started, they fell into a comfortable silence, Y/N nestled into Aubrey’s side. The world outside felt far away, reduced to nothing more than the faint city hum in the distance. Halfway through the film, Aubrey leaned over and softly kissed Y/N’s forehead, her lips lingering just a little longer than usual. Y/N looked up, her heart skipping as she met Aubrey’s gentle gaze.

“Thank you for sticking with me through all of this,” Aubrey murmured, tucking a loose strand of Y/N’s hair behind her ear.

Y/N’s hand found its way to Aubrey’s cheek, tracing the soft lines of her face. “I’m not going anywhere. I knew this might be hard, but… you’re worth it.” She offered a small, reassuring smile. “And I’m learning. I mean, I’ve got the best teacher.”

Aubrey chuckled, pulling Y/N closer. “Flattery will get you everywhere, just so you know.”

They spent the rest of the night laughing, sharing stories, and talking about the little things they hadn’t yet told each other. Y/N felt a kind of warmth she hadn’t felt before—a love that was both grounding and freeing, as if Aubrey had opened up parts of herself she didn’t know existed.

A few weeks later, they decided to spend a weekend out of the city, heading to a secluded cabin by the lake. Aubrey had rented it on a whim, sensing that they both needed a little time to breathe away from the constant hum of the city.

On their first morning there, Y/N woke up to the smell of coffee and soft music playing. She wandered out to find Aubrey on the deck, wrapped in a flannel blanket with two mugs steaming in her hands. The sun was just rising, casting a soft pink glow over the lake.

Aubrey turned when she heard Y/N approach, her eyes lighting up. “Morning, sleepyhead. Thought you’d like to join me for the sunrise.” She handed Y/N a mug of tea, remembering she didn’t drink coffee.

They sat in comfortable silence, watching the sun climb slowly above the horizon, casting a shimmering path across the water. It was quiet, almost surreal, and Y/N felt the weight of everything slip away, replaced with the calm of being completely at peace in the moment.

After a while, Aubrey shifted, turning toward Y/N. “You know,” she said softly, “this is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

Y/N looked at her, her heart swelling at the sincerity in Aubrey’s eyes. “I feel the same way,” she whispered. Then, unable to resist, she leaned in, capturing Aubrey’s lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

As they pulled away, Aubrey grinned, her eyes shining with something close to wonder. “I don’t care about the noise, Y/N. As long as I have you, I’m exactly where I need to be.”

Y/n beamed at her

"So, what are we reading today?" Aubrey asked after a few seconds of comfortable silence

"I thought maybe 'the catcher in the rye, its a classic"

Aubrey nodded before pulling the younger woman into another soft kiss.

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other and the quiet beauty of the morning, with their book and hot drinks, feeling as if, just for that moment, they were the only two people in the world.

_____

Just a quick note:

i dont really think itll be a series, maybe a bunch of chapters that might actually work as a full story or at least the same like universe, but im not sure if ill continue to write it regularly or not so just an heads up.

Also im in love with Aubrey plaza.

#fic writing #aubrey plaza x reader #aubrey plaza #agatha all along #agatha x rio #agatha harkness x rio vidal #agathario

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vbecker10 · 4 months ago

Text

Hi Neighbor (Part 1)

Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 (in progress)

Pairing: Bucky x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: Bucky decides he wants to try living on his own for the first time, moving out of the Avengers Tower and into your apartment complex. You can't believe your eyes as you watch the super soldier move into the apartment above you.

A/N: This is going to be a multi-part series with a bit of a slow burn between you and your hot new neighbor. I'm not sure how many parts yet but I already have the ending all figured out 💚 I hope you all like it!

You take a sip of your coffee then place the mug next to you, turning the page of your book. This is the perfect weather for reading outside on the stoop you share with the empty apartment above you. It has nothing to do with the fact that your new neighbor is moving in today because that would be weird.

You finish your coffee just as a small moving van pulls up in front of your apartment, idling for a moment before parking in the spot that belongs to your new neighbor.

This is it, you think then take a deep breath. Calm down, it's not like the love of my life is going to move in upstairs. I've been reading too many romance books, that kind of thing doesn't happen in real life. With my luck, it'll be someone who barely even says hi when they see me like that last guy who lived there.

You sigh then look back down at your book, pretending to focus on the pages but you've lost your place. The sound of a motorcycle driving down the quiet street makes you lift your head again quickly.

Oh my god, he's got a motorcycle! your mind screams excitedly as he pulls in front of the van and turns off the bike. Okay, okay, that doesn't necessarily mean he's hot, you remind yourself. Although technically all guys with bikes are at least a little bit hot, it's like a law or something.

The doors on the van open and from where you are sitting you can only see the driver as he gets out. You close your book slowly as you stare at the tall, muscular blonde. Is that Captain Rogers? Your mouth falls open as he walks over to the man on the motorcycle who you realize is Sargent Barnes. What are the two of them doing here, you wonder as their brief conversation ends with Rogers patting his friend on the back.

The sound of the van doors opening again brings your attention to a third man. That's the God of Thunder! What is happening right now?

"You're sure you want to do this Buck? You don't have to move out," you overhear the tall, blonde super soldier say as they meet Thor at the back of the van.

"It's not forever," he replies as he reaches into the back of the van and grabs a box, putting it on the sidewalk. "I just need a little space to be on my own."

"Don't listen to him. He's just upset cause he's going to miss you," Thor laughs heartily as he grabs three boxes at once and takes a step onto the sidewalk in front of your apartment. "Where am I going with these?"

"That one," he points over his shoulder in your direction. When he turns to face his new temporary home, he smiles at you. "Hi neighbor," he waves, holding the large box easily with one hand.

You blush and awkwardly catch the book that nearly falls off your lap when you wave back. "Hi," you giggle nervously when the three of them come closer.

"Hello there," the large Asgardian greets you warmly. "I'm Thor, this is Steve and Bucky," he puts the boxes down to gesture at both men then takes another step towards you.

"Yeah, I know who you guys are," you laugh and get up when you realize he wants to shake hands. Wow, he's massive, you think when he takes your hand in his, shaking it vigorously.

"Okay big guy, try not to break her," your new neighbor laughs.

"No worries, I'm all good," you reassure them then realize you should introduce yourself, "I'm Y/N."

"Nice to meet you Y/N," Bucky smiles as he walks up the steps and unlocks his front door.

"Umm... do you guys need any help?" you ask him. Thor picks up his three boxes again and you realize Steve is holding two large ones as well.

"I think we've got it," Bucky answers. "I don't have very much and I think Thor could probably do it all in one trip if I wasn't worried about him breaking everything."

"It was one lamp," Thor mumbles as he walks past you both into the apartment.

You laugh at his reaction, "Well I'm here if you need anything."

"Be careful, I might take you up on that," he smirks as he holds the door open for Steve.

You open your book and force yourself to pretend to read again, hoping to hide the blush that creeps into your cheeks. You hear him chuckle as he disappears into his apartment.

You remain on the stoop becoming lost in your book when a deep voice startles you, causing you to jump and drop it.

"I'm sorry," Bucky laughs lightly as he bends down to pick up the hardcover. "I didn't mean to scare you."

You laugh, embarrassed by your reaction, "I get a little focused when I read."

"Good book then?" he turns the book over in his metal hand and reads the cover.

You get up quickly to take the dark mafia romance novel from him. "A friend gave it to me," you lie.

"Shame," he smirks. "Guess I can't borrow it from you then."

You stare at him trying to decide if he's joking or not but before the conversation can continue his friends come outside again. As soon as he is distracted by Thor and Steve, you take the opportunity to vanish into your apartment.

(The next morning)

Making him a little welcome gift isn't weird, it's the neighborly thing to do, you try to convince yourself for the fifth time since you first had the idea. It doesn't matter that people don't actually do this in real life. You sigh then pick up the small gift bag. Okay, fine, I'm going to do it.

You open your front door, standing at the threshold while your internal debate continues. He's going to think I'm insane, you turn back around. Maybe I am, do people argue with themselves this much? You rub your face with your free hand, then mumble, "Okay, here goes."

You walk the few steps to his front door and bend down to place the small bag against it. The bag falls over so you kneel down the readjust it, making sure everything stays inside. Before you can make an escape, his door opens and for the first time in your life you have not a single thought in your brain.

You stare up at him, unable to move from where you are kneeling on the stoop. The aptly named super soldier is wearing a pair of light gray sweat pants hung dangerously low on his hips and absolutely nothing else. His damp hair drips down onto his bare chest and it takes you way too long to notice the smirk on his face.

You quickly stand up straight and take a step backwards, nearly slipping off the narrow stoop. His expression changes to concern in an instant and he reaches out for your wrist with his metal hand, keeping you from losing your footing.

You giggle nervously and blush a deep red, trying to keep your eyes on your own feet and not his muscular chest or the way his sweatpants hug his body. "Thanks," you mumble when he lets you go.

He chuckles, "You okay?"

"Yeah," you nod but you have no idea if you are. You're heart pounds in your chest as you watch him bend to pick up your gift bag. This was a stupid idea.

"Oh, is this yours?" he asks, holding it towards you curiously.

"No... It's for you," you shrug.

A smile spreads across his face as he pulls out a stack of takeout menus. He shuffles through them, examining each briefly then he looks up at you.

"When I first moved here, I ordered a lot of takeout cause I was super busy with work and it was easier than learning how to cook," you try to explain the idea behind the random stack of flyers. "There are some really great places around here and some absolutely awful ones."

He laughs, "These are all the absolutely awful ones I assume?"

You giggle, "Of course, all the places that are super gross."

"I honestly have no idea how to cook so this is going to be really helpful," he says genuinely and you smile as your anxiety over the gift fades.

"I'm still not a great cook but I could show you the basics if you ever wanted," you offer.

"I'd actually really like that, thank you Y/N," he says then his attention shifts to a small ball of white fluff that squeezes out of the partially open door.

"Cute cat," you both look down and smile as his pet comes slowly towards you.

"Alpine, go back inside," he orders gently but the cat ignores him, rubbing against your ankle until you bend down to scratch behind his ears.

"Alpine?" you ask. "That's an interesting name."

"Thats what they called him at the shelter," he answers. The moment Bucky takes his eyes off his cat to look at you, Alpine takes off down the steps towards the sidewalk.

"Alpine!" Bucky calls as he runs barefoot down the sidewalk after him.

"Oh shit," you swear, following Bucky to see if you can help.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did ❤️❤️ Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

@soubi001 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @multyunervisesuperfan @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @ash-muses @loz-3 @firedrakegirl @wolfsmom1 @sabspoetic @peaches1958 @catsladen @michellewgrt @crimson25 @jaidenhawke @mochie85 @itscomplicatedx @motherofmischief

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marcsburnerphone · 1 year ago

Text

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: angsty (minimal), john being slightly troubled, alcohol, reader being slightly embarrassing.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5!! -part 6

—————-

You wake up to the sun softly beaming in your room. Limbs stretching beyond the covers. You look around a little confused as to when you got back in your bedroom. Then it all came together. John, John leaves today.

You get out of the covers leaving your bedroom hoping he’s still there but of course to your disappointment he’s gone. You head to the kitchen knowing at least there will be a note.

Good morning doll, I thought of waking you but decided against it, though I might regret it. The movie was good, you seemed to really be enjoying it also:) Here's the phone number of a friend in case any problems arise. Next time I’m back I hope to see another painting - John

(xxx-xxx-xxxx) - nick

You stare at it trying not to let your emotions get the best of you. So you fold it and put it in the kitchen drawer. Although John was an awfully quiet roommate you could feel the weight of his absence. The cold floor beneath your feet has grown warm for how long you’ve stood there. You make your way towards the front door deciding that an iced coffee and a long drive with music will rid you of this feeling you can’t decipher it feels like want but in a way it’s also need but what is it you want and need? Not even you could answer that question.

Long story short you think it made the feeling intensify.

————-

1 month in

You’ve booked your schedule full leaving not an ounce of time for yourself. From the morning till night you had clients which were good for money but really it was a distraction for your mind. That same feeling felt like it was running into new veins every day seemingly consuming you.

You tried to start a new painting but something was off about the color scheme and it was a waste not only of time but material and energy. You wonder how John is.

————-

2 months in

No problems have arisen since he’s been gone. It's like the house knows you’ll call the expensive plumber instead of John’s friend.

However you have started a painting you are beginning to like. It’s a mix of hues you’ve never used before blues and oranges, a flame. You don’t know where or why the idea came to you but it’s what you wanted so you started it. A single candle is the outline, and the surrounding of it is the orange yellowish aura of a flame. You tried making ratatouille the other day and although it was good you wished it was made out of pepperonis like your childhood mind had imagined. You forgot there was no longer anyone to finish left overs so you ate it for three days straight.

Also you bought a new rug.

————-

3 months in

You’ve begun putting the final laminate on the painting. It’s taken you far longer than it would’ve if you hadn’t accepted 15 new clients. Not that you mind anyways.

You’re also a little ambivalent to the idea of John paying for 6 months of rent when he doesn’t even live here during it.

Besides that life seems stagnant and you’ve begun to lock your bedroom door at night again.

————

4 months in

The painting now hangs a foot away from where the other one in front of John’s door does. It’s a beautiful contrast and really you were overjoyed at the outcome. You also randomly decided it’d be a good idea one night after too much wine to order new furniture for the outside deck. When it arrived you were one in disbelief of all the building pieces and and two excited to have something more to do.

You should've stayed up the night John left.

————

5 months in

Redecorating the deck wasn’t enough change. You needed a makeover physically but couldn’t decide how. Maybe a tattoo? No. New makeup? No. How about a haircut? Fuck it, yes.

So you did just that, you got a few almost unnoticeable highlights and chopped a good amount off. After the fact you were obsessed. Was it impulsive and could it have gone so horribly wrong, yes. But did it? No.

———

6 months in

John’s still not back and it’s all you could think about. What if something happened to him? What if he wasn’t coming back? You worried yourself sick so much so you physically became sick.

You waited week by week for anything, maybe he’s back on base but just hasn’t come back home yet. But something was telling you it was more than that.

———-

7 months in

At this point worrying wasn’t going to make him appear. Your hobbies have now turned into distractions. So tonight you sit in the living room with a glass of wine and watch another rom com. You’re as comfy as can be in this cold brutal weather. It stays below 30 degrees Fahrenheit during this time of year and the snow bites at any unclothed skin.

You fall asleep to the small hum of the heater while on the couch. Thick blanket thrown across you and tv playing as background chatter.

You don’t know when you wake but it’s still dark outside when you hear someone that sounds distressed. Your groggy mind isn’t processing that the sound is coming from inside the house. But when it does you're up in a second looking around as your eyes try to adjust to the darkness.

“Fuck!” You hear from down the hall. John’s room.

You walk quietly towards it as he continues to chant that word. Suddenly it falls silent and you just hear what sounds to be deep breaths. You don’t know what wills you to knock, but you do.

“John, are you okay?” You ask softly from behind the closed door. He doesn’t respond but you know he’s in there from the quiet but quick breathing.

“No.” He says with that familiar deep drawl.

You open the door slowly to see him sitting on the floor near the corner of his bed clearly distressed. You take notice of the mess wondering how you slept through the making of it. There’s glass from somewhere on the floor and clothes strewn but when you look at him your heart breaks. He’s in full uniform, vest on, belt with equipment on, as if he didn’t stop anywhere. Just came straight here. His hair has grown out to an odd length and his beard has grown longer.

“I can’t get this fucking vest off.” He interrupts your thoughts looking at you with a sense of sorrow. You kneel to where he is careful to avoid glass. His eyes don’t glance up to meet yours; they stay fixated on his hands that are covered in dirt.

“May I?” You gesture towards the plastic buckles on the vest. He nods and you start with the two at his shoulders. Then you reach down his chest to undo the two near his belt buckle. You realize it must be connected somewhere in the back when it doesn’t come off. He leans forwards as you look trying to avoid the bloodstains that taint the once green vest and sure enough the tiniest but mightiest buckle is on the center of his lower back. He shrugs it off with a sigh.

“Better?” You ask softly.

“Yeah, Thankyou.” He slowly tilts his head back to lean on the comforter and you don’t move an inch.

“What can I do?” Truthfully you’ve never been in a situation so unbearably awkward but so unwilling to just leave.

“Just sit here with me.” So you do. You scoot right next to him and lean your head on his shoulder. He couldn’t admit it but the nights he slept in cold frost biting weather the thought of returning to your warm presence got him through.

“He almost died.” His voice gives out at the end of that sentence.

“Who?”

“Johnny, it would’ve been my fault. One second later and they would’ve put a bullet through his skull.”

“But he’s okay?” You know John loves his team even though he doesn’t outwardly say it.

“He’s perfectly fine.”

“Worrying about what could’ve been will kill you.”

“Sometimes I feel like that’s what I deserve for some of the things I’ve done.”

“If not you it would be someone else making the world a better place.”

“I know.”

You sit there with him for a while in silence. He can barely believe he made it back alive but right now the battle feels worth it. He hears soft snores not too long later and realizes you’ve fallen back to sleep. His head leans to rest above yours as he closes his eyes. He knows sleep won’t come to him but he’s never had you this close and for now he’ll cherish it.

—��——-

When you woke up again the sun had risen and a golden glow lit John’s room.

“John.” You whisper trying not to move your head in case he’s sleeping.

“Yeah doll.” He lifts his head to look at you.

“I’m so sorry.” You feel slightly embarrassed and bad that you just fell asleep on him.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He sighs before standing on his feet with a groan then offering you hand to help you up.

“I’m going to shower.” He says as you dust yourself off.

“After can I give you a haircut?” He laughs a little at your not so subtle realization of his long hair..

“If you’d like.”

“I’d love.” You say before leaving, assuring him you’d be back when he's done.

You pick up your mess from the previous night. Folding your blanket and putting it back in the basket near the couch. Taking your wine glass to the sink and rinsing it out. You go to your room and change into an outfit for the day and do your morning routine. After you grab your shears, clippers and cape. By the time you're done doing all of this you no longer hear the water running meaning John’s done with his shower. You knock on his door lightly.

“Come in.” You walk in to see him sweeping up his mess with the small house broom and can’t help but smile at the sight.

“Come on, let's cut your hair in the bathroom, better lighting and you can see what I’m doing.” You say heading straight there. You sit him on the little bathroom bar stool that’s been in there since your ex moved out. Once he’s sitting the only cape you have is pink so you throw it on him begging yourself to not laugh which you fail causing him to smirk.

“Okay so I’m just gonna clean it up, fade the sides a very little, cut the top with shears and what not.” You let him know.

“You cut your hair?” He replies, staring at you through the mirror.

“Yeah so?” You smile.

“I like it, it looks good.” You feel that feeling only johns been able to provoke.

“Thankyou.” You begin the cut, slowly combing out sections making sure to be precise. He seems far more relaxed than you’d imagined as you just freely cut at the top. After the matter once you're satisfied you shave the sides a little just enough to where it looks cleaner.

“Can I do your beard and mustache?”

“You're the hairstylist, not me?” Is all he says.

So you do, very carefully, mere inches away from his face your hands hold one side of his jaw softly to trim the other side. He watches your expression intently. The way when you’re focused there’s a crease that forms between your eyebrows and your pupils blow a little wide.

“All done.” You say pulling him from his trance. You move his face with your hands really checking to make sure all is well.

“Very handsome.” You compliment before turning around to rinse your shears and put them away.

“Thank You doll.” He says examining it himself in the mirror thoroughly pleased with how well you did even though he knows you don’t cut men’s hair. He doesn’t notice you grab his beard oil from the cabinet till you're smoothing it between your hands and asking him to face you so you can rub it through the coarse brown hair. Ever the nurturer.

It feels like time apart only made you two feel closer somehow. Or maybe it’s because you wanted to be close and those feelings were equally reciprocated.

The rest of that day John had loads of paperwork to file, sign and report. So he did that, he sat in his office for long hours going through the process. The only thing that slightly lightened this burden was your voice humming in the kitchen as you cooked something. You’d stopped by and offered him some which he gladly accepted from your giving hands. Hours later you bid him a goodnight and went to bed and even then he had so much more left.

—————

The next day you catch John in the kitchen and tell him there’s something you must show him.

“So you built it all yourself?” He says as you show him your little project you did outside. There’s a thick coat wrapped around you as you don’t fully step outside to avoid slipping on the icy ground. Him though, he stands on it with no problem in what looks like military issued boots.

“Yes I did.” You say proudly despite his clear disdain.

“I missed you, even your stubbornness.” After the months John’s been through there was no point in hiding the way he was feeling.

“I missed you too.” You smile while clearly avoiding his gaze.

How had he missed this all along?

“Would you like to go out for drinks?”

“What?” You turn around to meet his eyes.

“Can I take you out for drinks?” What being mere inches away from death does to a man.

“Yeah.”

You both silently walk away trying to break the bounds of the tense pull that makes you want to gravitate towards each other. You put on something cute but also warm and slip on some brown doc martens as your choice of shoe. You do light makeup as you give yourself a pep talk.

“Only two drinks, only two drinks.” You have to tell yourself cause after two your too you.

You hear John putting his shoes on by the hallway and take in the sight of him, brown leather jacket and beanie. You’re not sure how he’s going to stay warm in that but something tells you he will.

“Ready?” He asks and you nod nervously.

“Okay, hold on, I have to do this really slow or I’ll fall.” You say stepping slowly out onto the ground below the porch stairs.

“Well come here I’ll help you.” He offers his hand. You grab it softly, swooning at the way it encompasses your own. There’s something inside of him that doesn’t even want you to risk walking on this floor but of course he also doesn’t want to push.

“Okay nice and slow.” You’re not even taking full steps, just small slides. You clutch his hand for dear life and he loves it.

“Good girl.” He says once you reach the door of his truck which he opens for you. He doesn’t let go till you sit inside then only does he slip his hand from your warm one and closes the door.

“Which pub?” You ask as he turns on the heater only for your sake.

“The one downtown near the little Italian grocer.” You know exactly which one he’s talking about. Its dim light atmosphere is cozy but fun but usually full of mainly couples.

“Mkay.” You say looking out the window at the gloomy sky realizing it just might rain.

He glances your way during the small drive, your scent of your floral perfume mixed with his of cardamom and musk is quite perfect.

“You alright?” He asks.

“Yeah, just comfy, you?” He grins at your response.

“Never been better.”

He pulls into one of the street parking spots and despite the weather the streets are full, he gets out to put coins inside the slot for time before heading to your side of the car.

“Wait, I'm scared.” You say realizing that the distance to the bar doesn’t seem to be a survivable one.

“Come on, I'll hold your hand.”

“I’ll fall regardless.”

“Want me to carry you?” He genuinely offers.

“What?” You laugh.

“Doll I’m very serious I will carry you, just get on my back.”

“What if we both fall?”

“I’m not falling, trust me.” He says turning around motions for you to get on his back.

“Okay then.” You hook your legs around his upper waist and his arms reach to tuck themselves firmly beneath your knees.

“Comfortable?” He asks. He’s sure you can hear his heart racing from the proximity you’re in.

“Very.” All your dreams of climbing this man have come true.

You shut the door as he steps onto the sidewalk. You tuck your chin in by his neck for warmth. He smells woodsy with a hint of musk, it makes your head spin.

“How are you not slipping?” You say very suspicious.

“Doll I could run on this floor with these boots on.” He answers looking slightly over his shoulder at you.

“Well don’t.” You say seriously and he laughs as he approaches the bar, opening the door and setting you softly on the floor.

He finds you both a booth in the corner and sits on the side where he can see the entire bar, very John of John.

“What do you drink?” He asks, trying to make conversation. Suddenly the air feels very intimate, almost too intimate for what he considers his old man heart.

“When I’m out, martinis.”

“Espresso?”

“Mhmm.” You’re trying your hardest to hold the eye contact he’s giving you but something about the blue in his eyes and creases on the side of them has you breaking it quicker than it started.

“I’ll be back then.” He says sliding out of the booth feeling slightly accomplished.

You sit there looking at the lively pub, how many romances are at their peak here, how many friends are having the best night of their lives, how you amongst them are finally feeling like you again.

“Here we are.” He says returning with two glasses, his is a classic bourbon with a square ice cube in the glass.

“Thankyou.” You say as he slides it over to you.

“So what’d you do while I was gone, other than be reckless and build furniture.” He asks as you sip from your glass.

“I did lots of hair, painted a bit, found new color schemes for decor and that’s kinda it, I’d ask you the same question but I fear you can’t answer.”

“Your fears are true.”

“That Kate woman, she's very pretty.” Are you a little jealous?

“Yeah she’s also very married.” He says it like he doesn’t know what you're on about.

“And also not into men.” You nearly choke on your drink and swallow hard to get it down.

“Well I was just saying.” Sure you were.

You two have small chatter as you go through drinks. You tried to offer the second round but John said no for you to just stay in your seat. He came back with thirds and you definitely were starting to feel the effects of the previous two, him though not at all.

“So you’re telling me John you as very um good looking as you are haven’t had a girlfriend in how long?”

“Eight years.” He says while being very amused with your light hearted, open attitude.

“That’s just not right.”

“No?”

“No, personally, well never mind.” You’re not drunk enough to say what you were about too.

“What about you, why no boyfriends?”

“I’m very, I would say needy I guess clingy even, I’m a double texter, someone who worries and loves too much and I think that can be overwhelming for a lot of people.” You admit.

“Don’t believe that.” He says, sounding a little annoyed.

“For the right person you could never be overwhelming.” He says looking at you intensely and this time you can’t seem to look away.

Once your third drink is finished it’s raining outside and you’re words away from trouble.

“John?”

“Yeah doll.”

“You make me feel alive again.” You admit, the alcohol has casted a pretty shade of pink on your cheeks as you lean your head on your hand and John doesn’t think he’s ever been more entranced.

“You and me both, here drink some water.” He slides it to you. You’re sweet, too sweet. He feels like if he touches you physically or emotionally he’d be tainting art.

“Has anyone told you you're very climbable?”

“It’s time for us to get going, you're quite the light weight.” He laughs offering you a hand as you slide off the booth.

He leaves a tip on the table before walking with you to the door. He has to bend far more than he normally would for you to secure yourself on his back before he’s walking outside. This time he’s walking faster because of the rain droplets that are falling hard. He seats you in the car and reaches across you to buckle you in before heading to his side.

The drive home is pretty quiet, he drives extra slowly because of the precious cargo he carries. Once he pulls back into the gravelly drive way you unbuckle and open the door as he puts the car in park.

“You don’t want to wait for me.” He asks, a little concerned.

“I got this.” You hop out of the elevated truck immediately slipping and having to grab onto the door. He walks quickly to your side laughing at the expression on your face.

“You sure do.” He says as he grabs your arm

“Oh stop it.” You say accepting the help, sliding your feet on the ice again till you get to the door. Once you get inside you groan into the toasty air.

“Thankyou for tonight John.” You say facing him once you kick your boots off. You hadn’t realized how close you were till you turned around and could feel the heat radiating off of him and smell the bourbon on his breath.

“No, thank you.” He says feeling awfully captivated, hanging onto your every move. You cup his face and stand on your tippy toes, boldly yet slowly placing a kiss on the corner of his lips.

He’s starstruck. Absolutely dazed at the look of mischief in your eyes, something that tells him you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

“Goodnight John.” You say patting his chest and walking down towards your room.

—————

I couldn't wait till tommorrow i'm sorry.

comments and reposts are greatly appreciated:)

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emotionoitme · 11 months ago

Text

trouble

trouble - coldplay

part 3 of don’t call my name

warnings: angst, hurt + arguing but it’s steamy, drinking and clubbing, some violence (she gets grabbed and threatened but nothing happens), guard dog carmy bark bark, carmy throws hands & brief mention of blood. comfort sex, sappy and sweet but hot, it’s unprotected what else did you expect from me, dirty talk, some drama with claire i’m sorry

wc: 9.0k

a/n: so…i told everyone this was going to be 3 parts when it actually needs 4. i fear i am just too much of a yapper. i love these two and think i needed to do the story justice. so stay tuned for ch4. hehehehe. hope u enjoy!!! (it is going to get angsty)

playlist

carmen berzatto is a shitty communicator.

this we know to be a fact.

it’s just, sometimes when there are a thousand thoughts swarming around his head, it’s easier to not say anything at all. that makes sense, right?

the girl wakes up the next morning to find herself alone. the plush king sized bed almost mocks her with emptiness.

she knows that carmy is a hard worker. a michelin star kitchen doesn’t just run itself. still, it might be nice to get a note, or text, or anything that would reassure her last night wasn’t just some fluke to to him.

the silence of the apartment is almost deafening. she trudges down the stairs and walks to the kitchen, pouring herself what was left in the coffee pot from carmy’s early morning.

she feels lethargic, sore, and a little stung from waking up alone. no text or anything, she thinks.

but there was still time. maybe he was just really busy today. she pushes away the negative thoughts and slaps both of her cheeks lightly, trying to wake herself up. it would be a good day. he would text her or call her when he got a break. and they would talk about it. she puts a smile on her face at the delusion and hops back up the stairs to get dressed for work.

the girl tries to busy herself when she gets there, picking up extra slack from coworkers and bustling around to finish projects. trying to not check her phone.

she goes on lunch break with no text from him.

gets off work at 5 with no text from him.

throws his sheets in the wash and remakes his bed with no text from him.

eats dinner with no text from him.

watches a movie at 9:30 with, you guessed it.

she throws her phone back onto the bed angrily, the false wall of positivity built in her mind beginning to crumble. she’s tired and annoyed, so she shuts off the movie and buries herself in bed, trying to push thoughts of him out of mind so she could sleep.

she tells herself that they can talk tomorrow. but then, tomorrow comes and it’s the same nothing, almost like she didn’t even have a roommate.

three silent days go by until the girl decides she’s had enough, and plans to wait up for him and have a talk. maybe he just wasn’t a texting type of guy, she tries to comfort herself.

she grabs her book and a throw blanket and camps out on the couch, waiting for him to get home.

it’s close to midnight before she hears keys jingling and the lock turning. her heart drops inexplicably but she remains nonchalant and continues reading her book until she hears him take a few steps inside.

she turns her head, watching him talk on the phone as he slides his shoes off. he doesn’t notice her in the dim light of the living room, and his brows are furrowed, hand running through his messy curls.

“yeah. yeah, i’m- i know….sorry again,” a pause, “okay. i’ll see you saturday. bye, claire.”

her eyebrows shoot up at the name, the sinking feeling with in her stomach increasing tenfold. this motherfucker.

carmen makes it halfway into the living room before he notices her on the couch, slightly startling at her presence, mumbling a “shit”

her face feels hot, but not in the good way she had grown accustomed to the past few weeks.

“hey,” he greets softly, eyes looking tired, shoulders slumped.

she just glares at him and goes back to reading her book.

he says her name. she ignores him.

the man lets out a small scoff, stepping closer to the couch, hand on his hip.

“what, you, uh, ignoring me?”

she glances up at him and there’s a small smirk on his face, like he thinks it’s joke or something.

she opens her mouth to say something mean, but stops herself. takes a deep breath. recenters.

she slams her book shut and turns to face him.

“i’m going to bed.”

the man’s small smirk drops, watching as she shoots up from the couch and starts heading towards the stairs. he grabs her wrist to stop her.

“hey,” he says, firmer this time.

she whips around and pulls her arm back.

“what?” she snaps.

his brows furrow at her tone of voice. he pauses for a second, eyes raking down her face, taking in her expression.

“why are you acting like that?” he asks.

the question does nothing but make her feel angrier.

“because you’re being fucking confusing,” the girl exclaims, her throat growing tight.

“how am i confusing?” carmen replies with a surge of annoyance, “you woke me up the other night with…” his eyes dart down her frame, “half your fuckin’ clothes on.” he tries to sound angry, but his voice betrays him a bit. truthfully, it was like his prayers had come true when he opened his eyes to find her straddling him in underwear and a tiny little top that barely kept her chest contained.

“yeah cause i thought you were into me,” she frustratedly sighs, “but you’re just…using me to get over claire.”

the allegation wasn’t rooted in fact. but that’s how the girl felt, and she confuses the two in the moment.

“don’t say that.” he snaps, “that’s not fuckin’ true in the slightest.” carmen had been done with claire for months at this point. if anything, he had been trying to use claire to get over his roommate.

“it’s been three days since we-… and you haven’t said anything,” she sighs, rubbing her forehead, feeling a headache come on.

he knows his, and feels guiltier than she could even imagine. but he also knows she’s leaving in a few short weeks, and doesn’t want to fall any deeper than he already has for her.

“i got busy at work.” he defends. it’s a shitty excuse, but as usual, it’s the first to come to mind.

her eyes brows crease further.

“you have a phone.” she chides.

“i just…i didn’t think about it,” he lies, “i’m sorry.”

she scoffs and shakes her head.

“god, you’re so-,” another sigh, “you know, whatever, carm.” she turns from him and begins to walk up the stairs.

he hates how his eyes glance down to her ass, peaking out from beneath a pair of short shorts.

god he’s a fucking loser, he tells himself.

carmy calls her name again. she ignores him.

the girl slams her bedroom door behind her and throws herself onto her bed. she tries to fight the hot, angry tears that stream down her face, telling herself it doesn’t really bother her. telling herself that he’s just another stupid guy, and she can find better. this does nothing to ease the burning feeling in her chest, though, a pair of soft blue eyes flashing in her mind. thinking of the way he was rough with her while still being gentle, kissing her face and calling her sweet names. thinking of how he held her and wiped her tears and assured her that things would work out.

fucking asshole!

she grabs her duvet and pulls it over her head, wrapping herself tightly and burrowing into the pillow. she tells herself that she won’t make the mistake of giving into him again. wouldn’t ever grace him with her lips or fingers or sweet moans again.

she tells herself that she doesn’t need him. she could easily find someone else that would satisfy that same feral craving she had for carmen.

in fact, tomorrow would be friday, and she hadn’t gone out in a long time. she decides on calling up a friend and making a friday night plan to go out. drink, dance, and prove to herself that there’s better for her out there than carmy.

the girl aggressively rubs her face of tears and shoots up out of bed, grabbing her phone to send the invitation to a girlfriend. her phone pings with a quick response, and the girl confirms her plan for the following night, already envisioning what to wear. the thought of seeing carmy tomorrow night before she goes out makes her stomach churn. the thought of seeing him at all makes it churn, actually.

she tells herself that she only has to stick it out for another month or so. then she would go back to california and things would be normal. no more stupid boys. no more heated touches. no more whimpers being greedily devoured by hungry kisses.

she tells herself that’s what she wants.

it doesn’t feel genuine in the slightest.

the following morning she rummages through her closet and picks out a couple of skimpy options. she studies herself in the mirror, holding up the various items up in front of her nude body, wondering what carmy would think of the outfits. she quickly tries to push the thought out of mind. she doesn’t care what he thinks, she reminds herself. her eyes fixate on the finger-shaped bruises scattered about her hips. she thinks of how they got there.

her day at work seems to go impossibly slow. the girl finds herself thinking of carmen constantly, caught between hoping there would be a text from him when she would check her phone and hoping she would never hear from him again.

her mind frequently flashes to the way he handled her a few nights ago. how he kissed her obsessively. how he held her up once her legs had given out. how he relentlessly plowed into her and called her a pretty girl and told her she was made for him.

the thought simultaneously makes her horny and angry, something that she had never experienced so vividly until now. she wanted to slap his face, but at the same time she wanted to kiss him and grind against him and beg for him again.

it’s entirely confusing.

by the time 10 o clock rolls around, she begins to get ready, meticulously styling her hair and applying her makeup. she opts for a sultry, smokey look, accentuating her eyes with dark shadow and liner, glossing her pouty lips with a clear lacquer. the girl tries to hurry the routine, anxious to make it out the door before carmen gets back.

she strips her clothes off and slips into her club apparel, then decorates her look with rings, bracelets, earrings, and a necklace. as she slides her thigh high boots on, she hears the front door open, then slam closed.

“fuck,” she harshly exhales. looks like she would have to see him after all.

carmy racks his keys onto the hook and steps out of his shoes, taking a deep breath at the relief of being home. it’s not until he notices the light coming from upstairs that the relief is replaced with a sense of anxiety.

he knows he needs to fix things between him and his roommate, if he could even refer to her as just that anymore. he had felt like a jackass all week, but apologies were never really his strong suit. he didn’t even know where to start.

the man empties his pockets out onto the credenza, then begins to make his way into the living room. he stops in his tracks when he hears the click of heels descending the stairs.

as he turns his head and catches sight of her, he fights to stifle a groan.

she comes down clad in a tight top and mini skirt, length of her legs emphasized by black thigh high boots. his eyes rake down her body, admiring the curve of her figure and the appealing fit of the clothes. he wishes that she would dress like that all the time, but he doesn’t tell her that, instead just opting for a casual, albeit slightly strained “hey.”

she looks at him, but doesn’t reply, instead sauntering over to their bar cart and pouring herself a shot. he realizes the top is backless, and clenches his jaw a bit, trying to recenter with a deep breath.

“you, uh…you look nice,” he clears his throat.

she throws back the shot and shivers.

“thanks,” her response comes dryly, walking over to grab her purse, “i’ll be back in a few hours.”

carmen feels his brain stutter, processing what she said, his eyebrows furrowing.

“wait you, uh, you’re going out dressed like that?” he can’t help but feel a bit protective, even if she is pissed off at him. the girl scoffs.

“i can’t really go to the club in sweatpants, carm.”

he rubs a hand over his face, trying to keep calm.

“you could, uh….at least put a fuckin’ jacket on or something though?” he tries to suggest kindly. his tone betrays him.

“yeah?” she turns towards him, “why the fuck do you care?” bite in her tone.

his eyes fall over the multiple hickeys that litter her neck, then flicker over her face, realizing how striking her features look accentuated by dark makeup. she looks angry. a little hurt. he wants to say something soothing.

“cause i-fuck,” hand threading through his hair messily, “because i know how guys think.”

nice. real soothing.

“yeah? n’what do they think?” she challenges.

that anyone would want you. that you look fucking hot wearing those tight little clothes.

carmy opts to not respond so directly, and walks closer to her.

“i just don’t want you to get… hurt.” his tone is firm, jaw set tightly. she lets out a sardonic laugh at this. at the fact that he’s her biggest source of hurt at the moment.

“what, you think it’s funny?” he barks, “you could get fuckin’…picked up or drugged or something.”

she rolls her eyes.

“that’s not gonna happen. i’m going with a friend.” she snatches her purse off the credenza, fumbling through it to make sure she has her id. he takes a few steps closer. until he can smell her sweet perfume.

“well, let me drive you guys then.”

she shakes her head.

“no. we’re getting a cab.” zipping up her purse and hanging it over her shoulder.

“fuck, then call me when you get there. and when you’re leaving.” he snaps a bit, becoming a bit fed up with her attitude.

“not gonna fuckin’ call you, carmy,” her face scrunches up in anger, “i’ll probably end up going home with someone, anyways,” she fibs, locking eyes with him, unintentionally leaning in a bit.

“you what?” he angers, moving even closer to her, their faces mere inches apart.

she can feel the shot she took now, eyes darting down to his lips. fuck his deodorant. the smell of it makes her want to give in.

“‘mgonna find someone tonight,” her tone lower now, lids low, “‘n they’re gonna fuck me better than you ever will.”

he scoffs, blood boiling at her words, shaking his head, eyebrow twitching.

“yeah, uh, that’s not gonna fuckin’ happen.” his hand comes to wrap around her hip, squeezing. his face comes closer, lips nearly ghosting hers.

“yeah?” she challenges, actively fighting to keep from diving in, eyes locked on his lips.

“yeah,” tone firm, “tell your friend you’re staying in tonight.”

she doesn’t know why she feels so turned on. still pissed off, yes, but mostly aroused.

she rolls her eyes and lets out a laugh to hide this, but he can tell. he can always tell by the slight flutter of her eyelids and the way she’ll part her lips. he knows that she likes when he talks to her like that.

the girl channels all of her strength and steps away from him, opening the front door.

“see you tomorrow,” she chimes, walking out. he calls her name as she walks away, but she ignores him. he tells himself he’s too proud to chase after her, but really he wants to do nothing more.

as she makes her way down the hall, his eyes rake down her exposed back, settling on her shapely ass.

this girl was going to drive him fucking crazy.

carmy berzatto (2hrs): you make it there?

missed call from carmy berzatto (1hr)

carmy berzatto (30min): call me if you need a ride home.

the girl shuts off her phone, shoving it back in her purse and strutting to the bar counter. sure, now he cared enough to send a text.

jealous motherfucker.

it had been a girls night out until her friend went home with an ex boyfriend, leaving her all alone at the club. she leans over the counter, pushing her hair over her shoulder. her feet are sore from the boots she had picked out, coupled with an hour or so of nonstop dancing.

the girl had planned to leave as soon as her friend did, but made the mistake of passing through the main room where they were playing 2000s music. she couldn’t just not dance to 2000s.

the bartender works quickly to accommodate the numerous orders. she feels the drink she had been sipping on affecting her, comfortably bathing in the multicolored lights of the club. it was packed with people, and she had been noticing eyes on her all night.

the girl feels a hand on her lower back, and she turns to meet the eyes of a tall man.

“hi,” he says.

“hey,” she softly replies.

he was admittedly handsome, and his muscular stature didn’t hurt to look at either.

“can i buy you a drink?” the man asks.

the girl softly smiles and nods. he raises his hand to flag the bartender. she was planning on getting a water, but since she wasn’t paying for it…

the stranger makes small talk with her, the two having to practically yell into each other’s ear to hear over the bass of the music. jobs, what part of town they live, compliments. not that she really cares about any of it, though she tries to.

as he leans in to ask if she’ll dance with him, he places his hand on her waist. she tries to ignore how it doesn’t feel right.

he’s cute, she tells herself, and i needs to stop thinking about carmy.

the girl takes a long sip of her drink and nods softly, taking his hand and leading him to the dance floor. they squeeze through the crowd of bodies, and she turns to face him, hand on his chest. he places a hand on her lower back, and they begin to move to the beat. she takes another long sip of her drink, closing her eyes, coming closer to the man, swaying her hips. his deodorant doesn’t smell as good as carmen’s does. doesn’t comfort her like his does.

she takes another sip, and she circles around, moving her hips, facing away from the man. the music resonates through the whole building, lights flash and change color, making her movements feel dreamlike. he places his hands on her hips.

she wishes that she liked how it felt.

the man presses his hips into her backside. she imagines it’s carmen, and the thought makes her bite down onto her lip. her head falls back against his chest. she thinks of her roommate’s strong arms. his tattoos. the way his face scrunched up when he fully engulfed himself in her. the girl lets out a breath. her skin feels hot and sticky in the muggy club air. she takes another long sip of alcohol, feeling lips on her neck. they feel strange and unfamiliar. it doesn’t set off that tingling sensation in her lower stomach. she groans out of frustration.

“mmm you like that don’t you, pretty girl?” the man slurs into her ear.

the name makes her heart drop, and all of the sudden she feels like she needs to throw up. she shoves the stranger’s hands away and stumbles forward, pushing her way out of the crowd. the floor feels like it’s tilting on an axis as she cringes at the feeling of other sweaty bodies touching her. she gets shoved into by a big group and loses her drink.

it’s suddenly hard to breathe. the girl feels her throat tighten, her chest burning, wiping hot tears away. she fights and pushes and weaves through the crowd until she finally breaks free, making a beeline for the glowing red exit sign. the girl shoves the door open, almost tripping over the frame, and stumbles out into the cold night.

the frigid air helps alleviate some of her nausea, skin rising in goosebumps. she trudges along the brick wall and leans her back against it, focusing on taking deep breaths. her hands run through her messy hair, pushing it out of her face, closing her eyes, trying to stop the steady flow of tears.

this night was supposed to be fun, but all she wanted to do was go home and sleep this booze off. all she wanted was carmen.

her hands fumble through her purse, grabbing her phone. she drops it, muttering a “shit,” and crouches down to pick it up. she squints her eyes at the light of the display, struggling to navigate to the uber app. she enters her address, cursing internally when she sees the friday night surge prices. instead, she exits uber and finds her contacts, hovering over the number of a cab company. her eyes glance towards carmen's contact, right below.

she doesn’t want to call him. he was being an asshole, and she hates how easily he was able to get under her skin. so she dials the contact for the cab, listening to the line ring. and ring. and ring. almost infinitely, then a automated voice of “your call cannot be completed.”

“fuck,” she curses, terminating the call.

her eyes fixate on his name, pausing and contemplating.

she rolls her eyes and dials it. the line rings twice and gets picked up with a raspy greeting and a “y’okay?”

she stays silent for a second, not sure what to say. he says her name.

“did you know that you are-” she hiccups, “s-so mean?” it’s the only thing that comes to mind.

“are you drunk?” he asks.

“no. m’not” she argues, wiping a stray tear.

“you sound drunk,” he retorts, “where are you? i’m coming to get you.”

“you’re so fucking…rude. ‘nyou think you can just do whatever you want because you’re so-” hiccup, “hot… and big…you irritate me, carm,” she slurs into the line. she opens her mouth to say more, but he cuts her off by saying her name sternly.

“you at prysm? tunnel?”

“yeah. that one.” she hiccups again.

“tunnel? okay, stay right there. i’m getting in my car now.”

“ok but i’m still mad at you,” she murmurs, leaning against the cool brick. he scoffs, and starts saying something about her bad attitude, but she cuts him off by hanging up, harshly exhaling and closing her eyes tightly. the tears continue falling, so she just tries to focus on her breathing.

a cool breeze causes her to stiffen, wrapping her arms around herself, shivering. it’s uncomfortable, but grounding. her head stops spinning so much as she begins to breathe deeply. the tears come to a steady stop, but the aching in her chest doesn’t. she wishes carmen would hold her and kiss her head.

around fifteen minutes pass before she hears the back door of the club open. the girl keeps her eyes shut, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t bother her. though it seems she’s not so lucky tonight, unfortunately.

“hey, you,” a deep voice says. she snaps her eyes open to find the same tall man she was dancing with earlier standing in front of her.

she just stares at him silently, crossing her arms in front of her to help provide some modesty.

“listen, i think we get along well. and you’re really hot,” he explains drunkenly, “why don’t i help you get home?”

she feels icked out, trying to refrain from rolling her eyes.

“m’not interested, sorry. i have someone coming to pick me up.”

the man scoffs.

“you were plenty interested earlier when i bought you a drink,” taking a step closer to her, “c’mon. don’t be a tease.” he has a smirk on his face. she feels her heart begin to pound against her chest.

carmy was right, it was a mistake to come out. she tries to take a step away from him, blocked by the hard brick wall.

“seriously, i’m not interested,” she tries to sound assertive, “my boyfriend will be here any second so just leave me alone.” she hopes he can’t read through her lie.

“your boyfriend?” he asks, smirk turning into a grin, “you’re a naughty girl, aren’t you? someone should fucking straighten you out.”

her heart drops to her stomach, and she feels sick all over again. she steps forward to shove past him, and he grabs her waist, slamming her back into the wall.

“don’t fucking touch me!” she yells, grabbing his wrists and digging her nails in. he doesn’t let go. tears begin to stream down her face, heart hammering against her ribcage. she sees headlights from down the street and prays that it’s carmen, continuing to struggle against the man.

the car speeds up to the curb and jerks to a stop, door flying open. she shuts her eyes tightly and digs her nails in hard enough to draw blood, giving a final attempt at trying to get his hands off of her.

the girl is suddenly released as the man is jerked backwards by his shoulder. her eyes snap open and graciously land on the person she’s been wanting to see the most.

everything happens so fast—watching in a haze as carmen practically decks the guy in the face, sending the stranger stumbling back, gripping a bloody nose.

“you muverfuckr!” he slurs, words muffled by a dripping hand, lunging forward again. carmy shuffles back, then throws another jab square in the face. the man falls backwards onto the ground, sitting on the concrete, looking entirely disoriented. the girl gasps, feeling partially sobered by the scene.

she watches as the stranger’s blood drips onto the pavement, then darts her gaze over to carmen. his eyes look crazed, jaw tightly locked. he begins to stalk towards the man, clenching his fists that were spotted with red.

the girl reaches out and grabs his arm. he turns to look at her and his features immediately soften, taking in her tear-soaked cheeks and swollen lips. without thinking, he grabs her arm and pulls her into a tight embrace, arms wrapping around her in a protective bear hug. she clings to his shirt, and cries. he kisses the top of her head.

he smells so good. smells so safe.

“s’okay. i got you,” he soothes, “you’re okay.” the man says this as a reassurance to himself as well, rubbing her back, feeling his throat tighten and eyes water a bit.

the stranger lay flat on his back now, clutching his bleeding nose, mumbling incoherently.

carmen pulls back from the embrace, but keeps an arm wrapped tightly around her, ushering her to the car. she stumbles a bit, holding onto him securely. she wishes the tears would stop, but they don’t. she feels so scared. so relieved. so fucking grateful.

he gets her into the car, shutting the door and walking around to the driver’s side. she doesn’t want to look at him when he gets in, so she hides her face in her hand, elbow leaning on the arm rest. he doesn’t say anything for the duration of the drive home either.

she feels embarrassed, tired, and still a little mad at carmy. the whole reason she had wanted to go out and meet guys in the first place was because of his stupid situationship with claire. it was like it made her go into defense mode.

they had been driving for about 5 minutes, before she feels a dull throbbing in her head, stomach growling, alcohol in her system making her crave greasy nasty salty food.

she raises her head from her hand, looking at carmen. his eyebrows were knit together tightly, jaw clenched. she leans her head against the headrest as she stares at him lovingly. she loves how protective he gets over her. how strong he is. how blindingly handsome.

but she’s still mad, of course.

he catches her gazing at him in his periphery. he looks over, features softening as he catches her eyes momentarily.

“what’s up?” he asks, voice low.

she just looks at him. her lip pouts a bit.

“you hungry?” comes his question, perfectly timed.

she allows a soft smile to grace her lips at the accuracy of his guess.

“mmhm,” she nods, “a burger sounds really good right now. and french fries.”

he lets out a quiet chuckle, nodding his head, glancing at her again.

“let’s get you a burger and french fries, then.”

he turns his signal on and moves to make a quick left, pulling into a drive-thru after a few minutes.

they sit in line waiting for the order to be cooked. she glances over at his face. she wants to kiss him, a little.

“d’yknow what the ultimate hangover food is?” she asks softly.

he turns to face her, eyebrows raised in question, a look of amusement on his face.

“an all american breakfast,” she murmurs with a smile.

“yeah?” he asks, “like…pancakes?”

she nods, biting her lip with a smile. he lets out a soft laugh at this.

“and bacon and eggs. and hash browns. fuck,” her eyes are closed, like she’s imagining it in front of her. this makes the man laugh a bit harder, hand coming to smooth over his face.

“good answer,” he tells her once he stops smiling as much.

“what’s yours?” she asks, gazing at him a bit longingly.

“my what?”

“your hangover cure food.”

“uh, probably…saltines?”.

the girl lets out a laugh.

“the alcohol upsets my stomach,” he admits.

she laughs harder, burying her face in her hands.

“you are so cute,” she amuses.

he fights the heat that rushes to his face when she says this, and they pull forward to the pick up window.

the girl takes her first bite into the greasy burger that carmen insists on paying for, and it makes her feel more human than she has all night.

carmy parks the car in his assigned lot, then gets out to assist his roommate out of the car. the food helped her feel much more grounded, but she still has to cling onto his arm to be able to walk straight through the building.

neither of them say anything. this lasts until they get back to their unit, and carmy locks the door behind them. he watches as the girl stumbles out of her shoes and crashes onto the couch. she throws an arm over her eyes and tries to push away the nausea that comes with laying down.

“thank you,” she murmurs into her arm after a moment.

“mhm,” he responds, “told you to call me when you needed a ride, though,” shrugging off his jacket.

“i did,” she argues.

“no, you called me… way after you needed one. and you stood outside waiting for me,” his tone grows harsher.

if she wasn’t so nauseous, she’d roll her eyes.

“i was trying to get away from all the guys that were trying to take me home,” she retorts. she means it to be teasing, but it’s clear he doesn’t take it that way by the peak she steals through her arms.

“y’know, you-,” he scoffs, “i’m glad you think it’s fuckin’ funny because i-fuck…i was worried about you” he throws his keys onto the table, feeling angry, feeling scared.

she throws her other arm over her face. her cheeks are hot with embarrassment. her throat suddenly feels tight at his words, like she’s going to cry again. she doesn’t say anything out of fear of her voice breaking.

carmy chides her name, stalking over to the couch. he stands over her, expectantly waiting for a response, jaw clenching with annoyance. he nudges her arm. she moves it, revealing her tired bloodshot eyes.

“can we not do this tonight?” she begs hoarsely, “m’so drunk.”

“you fucking scared me,” he exclaims, grabbing his hair, “what would’ve happened if i didn’t get there in time, huh?”

“i know,” she sobs, tears now freely flowing, hiding her face in her arms again.

his heart breaks a bit, watching her cry like that. but he feels so angry that she put herself at risk like that.

“you-” he stops. takes a deep breath to recenter. “you’re right. let’s not do this tonight.”

she peaks at him through her arms, feeling completely pathetic. she watches him turn on the small lamp by the couch. he drapes a throw blanket over her before turning to walk upstairs.

tears continue inexplicably trailing down her cheeks, as her deep breathing begins to lul her into sleep.

an hour passes.

she shifts to try and get comfy to no avail.

30 more minutes.

everything was so uncomfortable.

she sits up quickly and shoots off the couch, beelining for the stairs, desperate to get the crunchy makeup and scratchy clothes off.

she falls up the stairs in her sleepy scramble, knocking against the wall loudly. slowly stands up, holds onto the rail, and exhales before continuing to ascend much more carefully.

as she walks down the hallway, she unashamedly begins to strip out of her clothing, leaving a trail that leads to the bathroom, telling herself she would take care of it later. she feels sick and lethargic, needing a shower immediately.

the girl leaves the bathroom light off as she draws a cold shower and steps in right away, drenching herself in the frigid water. she tenses, letting out a sharp exhale, feeling almost immediately soothed.

it’s as if the water washes away everything bad from the night. she meditatively goes through her routine, cleaning herself. cleaning away everything that happened tonight. cleaning away the man who touched her on the dancefloor, outside of the club.

the shame and embarrassment that begins to seep in as the alcohol wears off doesn’t wash away as easily. she needs to apologize, she knows that.

the girl dries herself off and wraps her hair in a towel as she walks back to her room, feeling more of a pep in her step following the refreshing shower. she bends down to pick up the strung out clothing she left behind, feeling like she was going crazy because her underwear was nowhere to be found. it would just have to wait until tomorrow, she supposes.

she’s moisturized and laying in bed, trying to fall asleep. tossing and turning. taking a deep breath. softening her face, muscles. thinking of nice things.

drifting off. mind flashing back to the man grabbing her and slamming her against the brick wall. thinking of what would’ve happened had carmy not come to her rescue.

her eyes snap open. she sharply inhales and sits up, hanging her legs over the side of the bed. it was going to be impossible to get sleep like this, heart beating way too fast to try and relax.

she just wants to feel safe.

without a second thought, she stands and begins walking to carmy’s room.

she knows he’s pissed off at her. knows he’ll probably tell her to get out. even so, she’s so desperate to get some sleep. so desperate to ease the anxiety that had been festering inside of her all night.

his door is closed, and she hesitates for a moment before twisting the knob and slipping inside.

it’s dark—the curtains drawn when they usually aren’t. he lay shirtless on his side, facing away from the door, clutching a pillow in his arms.

the girl peels back his sheets and slowly slips into bed, resting her head on the soft pillow. she stays there for a moment before scooting closer and laying her face against his back. he’s so warm, and his skin smells safe. her eyes fall shut. she feels him shift.

carmen wakes up unexpectedly to the feeling of warmth behind him. he knows it’s her without having to look. when she had noisily stumbled upstairs and into the shower, he went to go check on her—almost knocked on the bathroom door, but refrained once he heard soft cries from within.

he feels her face nuzzle into his back, and he reaches his arm back behind him, wanting to feel where she lay. he touches her hip.

“hi,” she greets softly.

“hey,” he returns, voice raspy, “y’can’t sleep?”

she scoots closer to him, hand splaying over his back.

“just a little… freaked out still…” she whispers. her tone wobbles.

he shifts at this, and turns around to face her silently. in the low light she can make out the worried furrow of his brows.

she feels guilty for being the subject of his worry.

“i’m sorry,” the girl confesses, biting back tears.

carmen’s brows crease further at her apology, immediately wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his chest. she tucks her face into his neck, shutting her eyes tightly, smelling his skin.

“y’got nothing to be sorry for,” he plants a kiss atop her head, “wasn’t your fault.”

“it was my fault,” her voice breaks, “should’ve listened to you,” her arms come around his neck, and she presses her body flush with his.

“it wasn’t,” he asserts, “that guy was a fuckin’ creep.” his tone is hushed. his arms wrap around her as if he’s scared of losing her.

“are you still mad at me?” she asks. her breath tickles his neck.

“i wasn’t mad,” he admits, “just scared.”

“me too,” matching his hushed tone. “thank you carm,” she whispers, pressing a kiss below his ear, “feel so safe with you.” she shuffles closer, pelvis pressing against his.

“you are,” he buries his nose in her hair, “always.” hiking her leg over his hip to bring her closer.

the girl kisses his neck again. and again. pulls him in closer. his smell is completely addicting, and with the angle of her leg she can feel his erection growing against her core. she hopes he can’t feel the wetness that begins to form beneath her shorts.

his big palm spreads over her ass and squeezes, desperate to hold every inch of her.

the girl deeply exhales, bothered by how easily he’s able to rouse her.

the man harshly exhales at the repeated feeling of her bites and licks and kisses, holding onto her with an urgent desperation. trying to wrap around her as if he were keeping her from the world.

the room becomes hot, and the two shuffle the duvet off.

carmen calls her name, trying to break her attention. he wants to apologize. wants to confess his shortcomings. wants to look in her big eyes and tell her he’s not enough and never will be. but she ignores his beckon and continues enthusiastically biting and sucking and kissing, hand pressing against his chest.

he forces his eyes to stay open, weight of his bottled apology heavy on his tongue.

“hey,” he tries again, voice strained from the pleasure.

“can you put it in?” she breathes into his neck.

“fuck,” he groans, surprised by her forward request, feeling himself pulse against her wetness.

“please,” she whines, hiking her leg further up onto his hip, trailing her kisses along his jaw, up to his cheek.

he squeezes her ass again, fingers slipping under the fabric of her tiny shorts. her skin was so soft. so hot with arousal.

“let me play with you,” he strains, “get you ready f’me.”

the girl makes a sound of protest, kissing his face more, hand coming to his neck.

“m’ready,” she whispers earnestly “wanna feel you so bad,” another kiss, “please, carm.”

he lets out a strained breath and removes his hand from her ass, shoving his boxers down just enough to free his erection. she moves her thigh higher up his hip, and carmen slips his fingers beneath the fabric covering her core, hastily pulling it to the side.

“yeah,” she exhales desperately, edge of her lips touching his, trying to watch him press his cock into her opening.

carmen pushes forward, sinking into her tightness. he lets out a groan at the way her wet heat engulfs him. the girl releases a sound of appreciation, her nails indenting the skin of his shoulder.

he takes a deep breath and begins slowly rocking his hips, turning his face to catch her lips in a hungry kiss. he greedily swallows her sweet noises, catching the edge of her shirt and bunching it up over her chest, exposing her breasts.

“please,” she breaks the kiss to plead, not really even knowing what she was asking for.

“i know, baby” he groans in between kisses, “gonna take care of you.” rolling his hips, hiking her leg further up his hip to bury himself to the hilt.

she wants to cry at how good it feels, eyes scrunched shut and mouth falling open in pleasure, releasing her first breathy moan.

carmy swears he could cum at the sound of it, hand grabbing her ass again, pulling her impossibly closer. his forehead comes to hers and he begins slowly thrusting into her, completely drunk off of her. her smell, her wetness, her whimpers.

“y’so fuckin’ cute,” he growls, “can’t get enough of you.” his admission sends a fluttering sensation throughout her chest, arching further into his touch, beginning to hungrily rock her hips to try and match his thrusts.

the man grabs her hip, holding her still.

“slow down,” he commands softly, catching her lips in a deep kiss, continuing to gently thrust into her.

she complies, savoring the sweet, lazy rocking motion as he holds her tightly. it feels far more intimate than what she’s ever experienced with him, even though the two weren’t even fully naked. it was needy and frenetic, yet slow and gentle.

carmen buries himself deeper, beginning to thrust up into her at an angle. he kisses her with frenzy, tongue swirling around hers, swallowing each and every noise she makes. the room grows incredibly hot, their skin sticky, each trying to apologize to the other using their bodies.

carmy snaps his hips forward, and the girl releases from his lips with a loud cry. her nails dig into his shoulder. it’s so good she feels like crying again.

“y’such a pretty fuckin’ girl,” he growls, “love how you feel, y’know that?”

her droopy eyes meet his. she loves the way it sounds from his mouth. loves everything he does.

“i’m all yours carm,” she gasps, savoring the deep, satiating feeling of his thick cock.

“yeah?” he asks breathily, “all mine?” grabbing her ass, pulling her in time with his thrusts.

“y-yeah,” she cries, eyes tightly shut, “yours. i love-ah,” she’s interrupted by a punctuated thrust, losing her words, head falling back, breathing heavily. he feels so good.

“what d’you love?” he asks, leaning forward to kiss her exposed neck, “huh?”

“love y-how you make me feel,” she cries.

his chest flutters. he bites and kisses the skin of her neck. he wishes she would’ve said something different.

“what else, hm?” a kiss, thrusts speeding up, “what else d’you love?”

“love-fuck, right there,” she whimpers, “i love-ah,” trailing off as if she can’t even think straight.

carmy smiles into her neck, giving her skin a final bruise before pulling away to catch her lips.

“tell me,” he growls, grabbing the side of her thigh and continuing to upwards.

her eyes fill with tears. she’s scared to say it.

“i-,” an gasp, “i love you, carm.” she catches his gaze as she says it, and watches how his expression softens. how deeply he looks at her. the man dives into her lips again, kissing her with a ferocity she had yet to ever receive, groaning into her mouth.

“fuckin’ made for me,” he growls in between kisses, “love everything about you,” pulling her leg further up, “perfect fuckin’ girl.”

he rolls over her and lifts her hips up, continuing to thrust into her.

the girl wraps her legs around his back accommodatingly, dizzy from his words and the pleasure. she slips her fingers down to circle her swollen clit, feeling as if she teters right on the edge of climax, overcome with a white hot pleasure.

“love you,” she cries, nails scratching down his back, “iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou m’gonna cum” she babbles. he smiles down at her, almost overwhelmed by a feral need to claim her.

the man deliberates throwing caution to the wind and cumming inside of her. he knows she wouldn’t mind. he rationalizes the logistics of making her a mom in his frenetic state, drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, her wet eyes, her open mouth. he decides he’s in love with her. decides he wants her to be his forever. he watches her cum. watches her eyes roll back and her body start shaking. listens to the sweet harmonic moans that spill from her lips.

“there y’go,” he coaxes, “such a good girl,” kissing her swollen lips, “fuckin’ in love with you,” heightening the pace of his thrusts, feeling himself approach the brink of orgasm. he seriously considers cumming inside of her, telling himself he would if she asked. he looks at the girl for confirmation, but she’s too far gone. he begrudgingly pulls out, shooting thick ropes of cum onto her stomach with a groan, missing her warmth as soon as he leaves.

carmy rolls off of her, grabbing her face and pressing a firm kiss onto her cheek, collapsing on the bed for a moment. he feels spent.

the girl pants, trying to catch her breath. carmen nuzzles into her neck, wrapping around her tightly, kissing her tenderly. they bask in the afterglow, cherishing the presence of each other, an encompassing silence following the heavy words exchanged.

she’s the first to speak. well, complain.

“there’s….cum all over my stomach.” she rasps. he smiles into her neck.

“shower?”

quiet, for a moment.

“i can’t move.”

he kisses her bruised skin with a lazy smirk and sits up to grab her a washcloth.

when the girl wakes up alone the next morning, her heart drops a bit, finding the bed next to her empty once again. she shuts her eyes immediately, hoping to be swept away by sleep so she could postpone the disappointment.

that is, until she hears noises from the kitchen downstairs. and smells the bacon.

the girl groggily pushes herself up out of bed, stalking down the hallway. she gets halfway to the stairs before realizing she’s completely naked, stopping in her tracks, turning to carmy’s open door, eyes falling on a t-shirt on the ground. she quickly grabs it and slips it over her head, then continues to curiously make her way downstairs. soft music comes from the speaker in the kitchen, and she slowly descends the stairs to find carmy deftly working over the stove. the whole house smells incredible.

she slips behind him to get to the coffee pot, sliding her hand along his back as she passes.

the man turns his head.

“hey,” he watches as she retrieves a mug from the cabinet, graciously taking in the sight of her wearing his shirt.

“good morning,” she smiles, “smells so good in here.”

as she stretches to get the mug, the hem of the shirt lifts ever so slightly over the curve of her ass. he clears his throat.

“nice shirt,” carmy says, turning back to tend to the bacon.

she lets out a soft giggle, pouring her coffee.

“yeah?” taking a sip and leaning against the counter, “figured it would be better than coming down naked.”

his brain stutters for a moment. he turns to catch the smirk on her face.

“i, uh…. i dunno about that,” he responds, small smile on his face. she shoves his arm playfully and he breaks into a grin.

“no work this morning?” she asks, grateful for the unusual saturday morning presence.

“no, i, uh…m’taking a personal day,” he replies, turning the heat of the stove off, “had some stuff i needed to get done.”

“good,” she replies with a nod, “you deserve a day off. i didn’t take you for much of a breakfast guy, though” she comments, tilting her head slightly.

“i’m not, really,” he plates the bacon over a paper towel, “but i, uh…thought some all american might help with your hangover.”

she feels a pang in her chest, eyes glancing over the assortment of pancakes, eggs, hash browns, and bacon. everything she had told him last night.

“carm,” she whines, “that is so kind. you didn’t have to all of this for me.”

the food looked delectable, plated beautifully and piping hot.

“i wanted to.” he begins to pick up the plates.

she puts her coffee down and helps him set the table.

when she takes the first bite of her bacon and eggs she practically moans at the taste.

“fuck,” she locks eyes with him.

“yeah?” he watches her with amusement.

“yeah,” she breathes, nodding, “that’s…wow.”

he can’t help but grin, hand coming to rub over his face.

“good?”

“yeah.” she nods, “really fucking good.”

he feels his skin heat at the way she says it, having no idea why watching her enjoy his food was so deeply satisfying (and maybe just a little arousing).

“try the pancakes,” he tells her, pushing the syrup closer to her. she nods enthusiastically, slathering the pancakes the maple syrup and taking a big bite.

the girl groans, and her head falls into her hand, savoring the taste. she doesn’t think she’s ever had pancakes so good.

“i could kiss you right now,” she looks back up at him. he lets out a breath of amusement and his cheeks warm with her praise.

“i’m glad you like it.”

“no, seriously, i’m…going to kiss you.” she tells him, putting a hand on the table and leaning over it. she grabs his shirt and pulls him in, kissing him firmly.

the man lets out a soft groan of surprise, enthusiastically reciprocating. she tastes like maple syrup.

when the girl pulls back, he grabs her face and pulls her back in, wanting another sweet taste. it’s better than any pancakes he’s ever made.

carmen loosens his grip on her face and she slowly pulls away, pressing a last kiss to his lips before sitting back down. she gives him a mischievous smile and continues eating her breakfast.

“go sit down,” she tells him, taking the pan from him, “you already cooked, let me clean up.”

“we can do it together,” he compromises, “it’ll be faster.”

she shakes her head, making a pile of dishes in the sink and turning on the hot water.

“no. go sit down and relax,” she demands, beginning to scrub.

she feels arms wrap around her waist, feels lips on her neck.

“so bossy,” he chides in between kisses, pressing his hips against her backside. she lets out a slow breath, leaning into his touch. her eyes flutter as she feels his hand creep under her shirt, splaying over her stomach. she’s not wearing anything besides his oversized shirt, and her skin suddenly feels hot from his touch. she arches into him slightly, and he bites her neck.

it feels very domestic, fighting over who would clean up the kitchen. it feels domestic wearing his shirt and being pressed up against the counter by him, skin littered with his bruises, lips intertwined with his name.

carmy begins to lift the borrowed shirt up, kisses trailing up to her ear, hand coming to squeeze her breast.

the girl releases a soft noise, completely distracted by her task of washing dishes. her head falls back against his shoulder, and she leans into his touch.

carmen thinks of telling her to strip the shirt off. thinks of hoisting her up onto the counter and eating her out until she cums. touching her until she cries.

he pushes the shirt up further.

knock knock knock

they both startle and look to the front door. carmen checks the time, and his heart drops a bit.

he pulls away from the girl and runs a hand through his curls.

“who is it?” she asks him, observing his look of stress.

“it’s, uh….fuck. just wait right here, okay?” his hands fall from his hips and he stalks to the closet by the front door, pulling out a scarf she doesn��t recognize.

he opens the door halfway, and she hears a familiar woman’s voice greeting him.

her face gets hot. her chest feels tight.

“claire,” he greets quietly, thrusting the scarf forward, “here.”

“ugh, thank you, carmy. i’m so forgetful sometimes.”

“no problem. i should, uh-”

“it smells good in there,” claire comments, peaking in.

carmen steps back, eyes darting over to his roommate. she stands with her arms crossed, leaning against the counter, staring at him.

“i’m uh…cooking breakfast,” he turns back to claire, “so i should probably get back to that. i’ll see yo-”

“-i was thinking we could talk?” she cuts him off, “can i come in?”

“i don’t know if that’s…,” carmen hesitates. he glances to his roommate to find her walking behind him towards the stairs.

claire’s eyes follow the girl, taking in her attire. carmy watches her expression slightly falter.

his roommate stalks up the stairs. was walking behind him in plain sight a little petty? maybe. but she’s sick of carmy never saying exactly what he means. she undoes the hair tie holding together her messy updo, walking to her room.

she quickly grabs a change of clothes and rushes into to the bathroom to shower, feeling the overwhelming need to leave the apartment.

the front door slams shut, and she hears his steps ascend the stairs.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto imagine #the bear imagine

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deliciousangelfestival · 30 days ago

Text

The Director's Obsession - Phase 4

Character: Director Orson Krennic x F!ISB Agent

Summary: Director Orson Krennic keeps one ISB agent under his thumb, pulling her from lunches, stealing her sleep, and destroying three dates. The project demands everything. Or maybe his obsession demands more.

Word Count: 6.926

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi🙏🏻

Phase 1 , Phase 2 , Phase 3 , Phase 4 , Phase 5 , Phase 6 , Phase 7 , Phase 8 , Phase 9 , Phase 10 , Phase 11 , -

Headcanons

Phase 4 : Death Star

The private dining lounge was perched high above the city, wrapped in towering glass that offered a breathtaking view of Coruscant’s endless skyline. The lights below shimmered like stars trapped beneath their feet. It was the kind of place neither of you would have ever dared dream of when you were young.

Mia entered first, and to your surprise, two small shadows trailed closely behind her. Before you could speak, they rushed forward, their tiny shoes tapping excitedly on the polished floor.

"Auntie!" they both squealed in unison, their arms flung wide.

Their immediate joy washed over you like warmth you didn’t know you needed. You knelt instinctively, catching both girls as they wrapped themselves around your arms and waist.

"You didn’t tell me you were bringing them," you said softly as you looked up at Mia, blinking through the sudden warmth stinging your eyes.

Mia’s smile was soft, but full of quiet intent. "When I heard your voice earlier... You sounded like you were slipping. Like you wanted to give up. So, surprise."

You exhaled, your chest tight. "You always know when to show up."

The four of you settled into the plush booth by the window. The atmosphere was elegant but intimate, a place for Coruscant’s powerful and polished. The vast city stretched endlessly beyond the glass, the speeders slicing through the glowing traffic lanes below like silver darts.

Mia leaned back, gazing out at the view, her tone laced with amazement. "Who would’ve thought? If someone told me decades ago that one day we’d sit here, I’d say they were insane."

You smiled faintly, but your attention was stolen by her daughters, who had finished eating and were now spreading their coloring books across the table. You quietly reached to help them steady their pages, smiling as you guided the youngest's hand along the edge of her drawing.

After a pause, the question that had been pressing on you for days finally escaped.

"Do you think I’m selfish for joining the Empire?"

Mia’s gaze shifted to her daughters, her eyes softening. She spoke with quiet certainty. "If you're selfish for wanting to survive, then so am I."

She gestured subtly toward the large windows. Outside, down below, stormtroopers stood guard, their pristine white armor gleaming under the city lights.

"Look at them," Mia continued softly. "We don’t even have to protect ourselves anymore. They’re the first shield. If something happens, they’ll take the blaster first. That wasn’t our childhood. Back then, we were our own shield."

She ran her fingers through her eldest daughter’s hair as her voice lowered. "We grew up hiding under old transports, trading whatever scraps we could find, always hoping today wouldn’t be the day someone turned us in." Her voice trembled but never broke. "Being part of the good side didn’t protect us. The Rebellion... the Resistance... they were supposed to stand for something better. But what did they give us? Hiding. Starving. Running. Watching leaders argue while the rest of us suffered for decisions they made in safety."

You swallowed, your chest tightening at the memories that resurfaced. The cold nights. The stolen rations. The endless running.

Mia's voice grew bitter. "And what finally killed our parents wasn’t blaster fire from the Empire. It was a betrayal. The same commanders we trusted made choices that sacrificed entire camps for their escape. They left us behind to cover their retreat."

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting her words hit like old wounds reopening.

She continued, her voice steadier now. "That’s why I chose this life. That’s why I married into the Senate. I wanted stability. And now, because of your work, I feel safer than I ever have." She looked directly at you. "You helped the Empire become something more stable. And for that, I’m proud of you."

Mia smiled and gestured toward her eldest daughter, who was busy sketching in her coloring book, carefully copying a sleek version of your ISB uniform.

"Look at your niece," Mia said warmly, both of you are not related by blood, but the sisterhood is strong. For her, you’re the closest person she could see as family. "She’s proud to have an aunt who works for the ISB. Look at her hair — she even asked me to braid it like yours."

The little girl glanced up, cheeks flushing as she realized you were watching. You smiled, heart swelling with a strange mixture of pride and sadness, and gently patted her head.

"Thank you," you whispered.

Mia’s eyes softened as she looked at both girls. Her hand rested gently on her youngest’s shoulder.

"This kid's grandfather — my father-in-law — he’s greedy, arrogant, obsessed with power," she admitted, her voice low. "But even so, he cares about his family. He makes sure there’s always food, credit, and comfort. He ensures his grandchildren get the best education Coruscant can offer. He may chase power, but at least he knows how to protect his own."

You sat back, holding the drawing in your hands as the lights of Coruscant reflected in the glass around you. Her words lingered, pressing deep into places you hadn’t let yourself think about for years.

Mia exhaled one last time, her voice barely above a whisper but filled with conviction. "We made a promise when we were young. We said we’d never let our children grow up like we did. Starving under trees. Hiding in caves. Waiting for leaders who made speeches while leaving people to die. Even if the Empire isn’t perfect, at least it’s organized. At least someone pays for failure. The chaos we came from? That was far worse."

The city lights continued to blink silently beneath you as the quiet between you filled with shared, unspoken truths neither of you could deny.

"You’re good with words," you said softly, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

Mia winked playfully. "Well, I learned from the best."

The rest of the evening unfolded gently, without tension, without weight. For the first time in weeks, the heaviness in your chest felt lighter. You walked side by side with Mia, guiding her daughters toward the waiting speeder at the curb. The city’s glow reflected off the polished surface of the vehicle as you helped the girls climb in, fastening their restraints carefully while they chattered, still excited from the night’s dinner.

Mia turned toward you, her voice warm. "I could drop you off."

You shook your head, exhaling softly. "I want to clear my head. The walk will help."

"Alright," she whispered, leaning in to hug you tightly. "Just… take care of yourself, okay?"

You returned the embrace before stepping back, watching the speeder lift off and disappear into the endless lines of traffic above.

Left alone beneath the towering skyline, you began walking, the hum of speeders above fading into a low, distant hum. The cool Coruscant breeze brushed across your face, threading through your hair. For the first time in days, you allowed yourself to breathe. No datapads. No reports. No ISB eyes are watching from across sterile halls.

Your boots clicked softly against the walkway, and for a brief moment, you let yourself remember why you came here in the first place.

You had once stood at the edge of survival, watching leaders speak of hope while your stomach ached from hunger. The Rebellion had promised freedom but delivered starvation, fear, and betrayal. The Empire was flawed, yes—but at least here, you had risen. You had power. You had stability. You weren’t sleeping beneath collapsed transports or begging smugglers for ration scraps. You had control over your life in ways you never thought possible.

For years, that was enough.

But now?

Your steps slowed. The distant hum of traffic suddenly felt… too distant.

You glanced behind you.

A man. Walking too close. Too steady. Not one of the civilians was hurrying home for the night. No hesitation in his pace. His face was down, but his attention was locked on you.

You quickened your steps. Slipping between crowds, crossing lanes, and ducking beneath pedestrian overpasses. Every turn you made, he followed. His distance remained constant. Close enough to see. Far enough not to confront.

Your pulse quickened, your breathing shallower. You turned sharply into one of the narrow service alleys running beneath the platforms, slipping between tall stacks of cargo crates. The hum of speeders was muffled now. The shadows wrapped around you.

Footsteps echoed behind.

He was still coming.

You didn’t wait any longer. Pivoting sharply, you darted down a smaller path, weaving between steel columns, pushing past maintenance droids and service lifts. The noise behind you faltered. You ducked under a scaffold, pressed yourself into a dark recess, and held your breath.

The footsteps slowed. Hesitated. Then faded.

Gone.

You waited several minutes, your heart hammering against your ribs. Only after you were certain the man was gone did you finally slip out of hiding, your pulse still racing, the cold sweat clinging to your back.

Whoever he was, he hadn’t been random.

You straightened your coat, forced your breathing to calm, and continued your way back home with sharp, alert eyes.

Tomorrow, you will report this.

Whoever was watching you tonight… wasn’t done yet.

******

The following morning, you walked with purpose into Partagaz’s office. His sharp eyes glanced up as you entered, already sensing the weight you carried.

"You have something to report?" he asked calmly, setting down his datapad.

You inhaled, keeping your voice steady. "Last night, I was followed."

Partagaz’s brow lifted slightly, his face unreadable. "Followed?"

"At first I thought it might be random," you said. "But it wasn’t. Someone was tracking me deliberately. I evaded them, but it wasn’t an accident."

He leaned back, fingers steepling beneath his chin. "I’ll assign additional security. You’ll have an escort until we locate the source."

"Thank you, Major."

A thin smile crept across his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "So. They’ve heard it completely, and now they’re panicked."

Your brows furrowed. "What?"

Partagaz exhaled softly, as if reminding himself to choose his words carefully. "Oh, it’s nothing." He waved his hand lightly. "Director Krennic’s larger project… it has reached completion ahead of schedule."

Your breath caught for a moment. The realization sank deep, twisting something inside your chest. So that’s why Krennic hadn’t appeared these past days. The secret project. The one no one spoke of openly. The one you were never allowed to ask about, even as your propaganda had helped secure resources for it. Even now, you didn’t truly understand what you had helped him build.

Partagaz noticed your silence and studied you for a beat longer. "I assume Director Krennic hasn’t personally informed you." His tone was neutral, but not without a hint of quiet observation. "Regardless, congratulations, Agent. Your contribution will not go unrecognized."

"Thank you, Major," you replied quietly as you stepped out, the door hissing shut behind you.

He nodded once and returned to his datapad. As you turned to leave, his voice dropped into a low murmur, meant only for himself. "Good thing she told me. If not, he would have my head."

*******

The days passed. You resumed your assignments as usual, filing reports, attending briefings, reviewing propaganda drafts. But the absence remained. No visits. No sharp remarks. No sudden orders from Krennic sweeping into the office with his cape billowing behind him.

The silence was unsettling.

Had he grown bored? Or perhaps he no longer needed you. With his project completed, maybe you had served your purpose. That thought sat heavier on your chest than you cared to admit.

Several days later, you made your way home as the evening descended. Heavy rain fell across the city, droplets pelting against your coat as you walked beneath the towering skyline. The distant hum of traffic blended with the soft slap of your boots against the slick durasteel walkway.

But even beneath the rain, you felt it again.

The sensation crept along your spine. That same shadow pressing behind you, silent but unmistakable.

You quickened your pace.

Behind you, faint footsteps quickened as well.

Your breath came faster as you slipped between market stalls and pedestrian bridges, weaving through the narrow back corridors of the district. The rain made every step slicker, every turn more dangerous. You glanced back.

Three figures emerged from the shadows, closing in.

You ran.

They followed.

Your lungs burned, your pulse roaring in your ears as you pushed through side streets and low alleys, but they stayed on you. There was no escape route this time.

Rough hands grabbed at you from behind, yanking you backward as you struggled. The cold wetness of the rain soaked through your uniform as they forced you into a dead-end corridor. One pinned you roughly against the wall while another blocked your only exit.

"You Empire filth," one of them hissed, his voice venomous. "You think your lies keep you safe? That propaganda you spread? You’re as guilty as the ones pulling the trigger."

You struggled against their grip, but the third man shoved you harder against the wall.

"Rebel scum," you spat, though your voice wavered.

The man snarled. "You chose the wrong side. And tonight, you pay for it."

You clenched your eyes shut, bracing yourself. Three against one. There was no winning this.

But instead of pain, you heard it — a single sharp scream. Then another. A blaster shot cracked through the rain-soaked alley, followed by another. You opened your eyes just in time to see one man drop lifelessly to the ground, then another falling hard beside him.

The third barely had time to react before his chest was hit squarely, his body collapsing against the wet durasteel.

Your breath froze as you turned toward the alley entrance.

There, standing like a shadow in the rain, a Death Trooper held his blaster steady, scanning the bodies with cold precision.

You knew immediately who had sent him.

Only one person.

Only one man ever placed his Death Troopers this close, this quietly.

Even when absent, his reach never truly left you.

******

The report had spread through ISB faster than you expected. You should have known the moment it happened, but still, when Heert and Jung arrived unannounced at your quarters early that morning, you hadn’t fully prepared yourself.

Heert’s eyes widened slightly as he caught sight of you. His gaze swept over the faint bruising along your jawline and the darkening mark beneath your cheekbone. "Are you alright?" he asked, voice low with concern.

Jung, always less subtle, winced openly. "You look dreadful."

You rolled your eyes. "Thank you for the honesty."

Heert shifted awkwardly. "We’re here to bring you in."

"For what?" you asked, irritation prickling under your skin.

He glanced at Jung for a brief second before answering. "Interrogation orders."

The word hit heavier than it should have. "Interrogation? You’re serious?"

"Orders are orders," Jung said, avoiding your gaze.

No further explanation came as they escorted you through the stark white corridors of the ISB Headquarters. They led you deep into the restricted levels, past areas you rarely visited, until you reached one of the isolated basement interrogation rooms.

The door slid open. You stepped inside, and the air shifted instantly.

The room was blindingly white. No corners. No shadows. No furniture beyond the single chair where you now sat. The scent of sterilization clung to every surface — sharp, clean, unnatural. It was as if nothing had ever lived inside these walls.

You sat still, your shoulder aching from the bruises left by last night's assault. The questions circled in your mind with increasing weight. Why bring you here? Why now?

Then you saw it.

Through the glass panel ahead of you, a familiar silhouette emerged.

The white cape flowed behind him with slow, deliberate grace. His gloved hands were folded behind his back, his head tilted ever so slightly as he watched you from the other side. Krennic.

His stare was impossible to read. Cold. Calculating. Yet behind that mask, something else flickered. You couldn’t tell if it was curiosity or something far more dangerous.

The door hissed shut behind him, sealing you both inside the blinding white room.

Krennic advanced slowly, his cape trailing behind him like a shadow that refused to let you breathe. He circled you without speaking, the faint click of his boots against the polished floor marking every beat of your racing pulse.

He stopped directly in front of you, standing close enough that you could smell the faint trace of his cologne mixed with rain and sterilized air. His gaze traveled downward, stopping briefly on the darkening bruise along your jaw. His lips twitched into something that was not quite a smile.

"You seem to attract danger far too easily," he murmured. His voice was smooth, almost gentle, but that only made it worse.

You kept your posture firm. "I do not control who chooses to attack me."

He tilted his head slightly, as if amused. "No. But you control what information might make you desirable to certain people."

You met his gaze fully now, refusing to blink under the pressure of his stare. "There is nothing I could give them." Your voice was steady but low. "I do not know what they wanted."

Krennic's eyes narrowed, though his voice remained calm. "You underestimate your value. Your work touches far more than you are allowed to see. You forget how many eyes are watching the ripples you create."

He took a step closer, closing the already narrow space between you. His gloved hand lifted slightly, hovering near your chin for a heartbeat as though he might touch the bruise, but he did not. He simply let the air between you thicken.

"I protect my assets, Agent," he whispered, his tone silk wrapped in steel. "And make no mistake, you are one of my most valuable."

You swallowed hard but refused to look away. His proximity, the weight of his voice, the quiet certainty of his control, it pressed against your chest like gravity.

"I only write words," you said quietly. "The Rebels know that."

"Words," he repeated softly, almost savoring the weight of it. "Words that have reshaped the Empire’s image. You have made entire sectors bend willingly to Imperial order. Citizens trust what they once feared. Systems that might have resisted now offer loyalty before resistance can even form."

He let the silence linger, his gaze cutting straight through you.

"The Rebels see you as a threat. Not because you carry a weapon, but because you have weakened their voice. Their influence fades while ours grows stronger."

His voice dipped lower, more personal.

"And because of you, I secured every resource necessary. Not by force. Not through costly suppression. But freely. Efficiently. Without a single drop of unnecessary blood. You gave me order without the chaos."

"I did not choose to become this important," you whispered.

"No," he said, his voice almost like a caress now. "I chose you."

His words hung between you, heavy and intimate. For a moment, the room did not feel like an interrogation chamber anymore. It felt like something far more dangerous.

You forced yourself to steady. "Thank you," you finally said, breaking the tension just slightly.

"For what?" he asked softly, though he already knew.

"For sending the Death Trooper."

His lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile. "Of course. You are mine to protect."

The weight of his words was deliberate. Possessive. And yet somehow gentler than you expected.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could speak, his voice dropped again into command.

"Stand up."

You blinked, your pulse jumping again. "Where are we going?"

He did not answer. He simply turned and walked toward the door, his voice calm but absolute.

"Follow me."

Your feet moved before your mind could fully process. The ache in your shoulder pulsed with every step, but the ache was nothing compared to the pulse pounding in your chest.

You followed him out of the interrogation chamber, into whatever awaited you next.

*******

You followed him silently across the landing pad toward his shuttle. The Juggernaut. It was only the second time you had ridden inside the vessel, but the sight of it still left you momentarily breathless. Sleek, imposing, and more advanced than anything you'd ever been permitted to board within the ISB. Of course, as Director of the Imperial Department of Advanced Weapons Research, Krennic had access to the finest craft the Empire could construct. Every piece of metal, every inch of polished surface, radiated raw power.

You climbed the ramp behind him, your boots echoing softly against the steel flooring. As you settled into your seat, your voice finally broke the long silence.

"Where are you taking me?"

He barely glanced at you, his tone smooth and almost indulgent. "I am going to show you how effective your words have been in securing my life’s work."

The shuttle engines roared to life as it lifted off the landing platform, breaking through the dense traffic layers of Coruscant and into open space. The stars unfolded around you as the Juggernaut soared higher, faster, leaving the planetary surface behind like it was nothing.

You watched silently as the stars twisted into lines, the ship entering hyperspace. Moments later, the shuttle emerged from light-speed. Before you stretched a view you could never have imagined.

Suspended against the emptiness of space loomed a colossal structure. Its enormous, moon-like sphere dominated the void, its surface covered with docking bays, exposed superstructures, and blinking lights that spread endlessly across its surface.

Your breath caught in your throat.

The shuttle slipped easily into one of its many docking ports. As the ramp lowered, Krennic stepped forward, motioning for you to follow. You descended behind him, eyes scanning the countless Stormtroopers standing in perfect rows along the hangar bay.

"Follow me," Krennic ordered calmly.

You kept close as he led you through the gleaming corridors, passing officers and specialists who straightened their posture the moment he passed. As you followed behind him, you noticed something strange. One by one, many of them nodded slightly toward you, as if acknowledging you personally. You frowned, confused by the unexpected attention.

"Where are we?" you asked finally, your voice quieter now.

"This," Krennic said with deliberate pride, "is called the Death Star."

The words landed with a weight you could not immediately process.

The Death Star.

Your steps slowed, mind spinning as you tried to grasp the enormity of what you were seeing. You had heard whispers in passing over the years, but nothing more than vague rumors. Now you stood inside it.

He led you deeper until you entered a vast observation platform. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the planet of Jedha below. The room was filled with high-ranking officers and officials, all wearing their pristine uniforms and polished rank badges. The air itself seemed heavier under the collective weight of their presence.

As you entered, a cold voice greeted you. "Director Krennic."

You turned toward the speaker and immediately recognized him from briefings and files. Governor Tarkin. His sharp cheekbones and pale eyes were as cutting as his reputation. He stood at the edge of the platform, arms folded behind his back.

"I see you are late," Tarkin continued, his voice cool. "Bringing company, no less."

Krennic’s smile was thin but controlled. "She is the reason this project was completed ahead of schedule." His voice carried with it something strange, almost like pride. "Her contribution was... crucial."

For a moment, you froze. It was the first time you had heard him speak of you that way in public.

Tarkin’s eyes shifted to you, studying you like a specimen. You straightened instinctively and spoke. "Governor," you said with a formal nod.

"At least she possesses better manners than you, Director," Tarkin said without a trace of humor, his gaze returning to Krennic.

You watched the brief flicker of tension between them. It was unmistakable. A subtle battle of egos played out silently between their glances. There was bad blood here, and you could feel it.

"Shall we proceed, Governor?" Krennic said calmly.

"By all means," Tarkin answered.

Krennic turned toward the technicians standing at their stations. The mood shifted instantly as his voice rang out with quiet authority.

"Prepare the weapon."

You followed his gaze to the massive superlaser slowly aligning toward the distant planet of Jedha.

"Target locked," one of the technicians confirmed.

Krennic’s voice was cool, almost casual. "Fire."

The chamber vibrated softly as the giant green laser beam erupted from the weapon’s dish, piercing the darkness like a god’s judgment. The beam struck Jedha’s surface, burrowing deep before erupting into a massive explosion that consumed the horizon. The planet’s crust tore upward into the sky, collapsing into itself as waves of dust and debris billowed into space.

The room fell silent.

Even you could not breathe. You had seen power before, but nothing like this.

"Ooh... it’s beautiful," Krennic whispered, almost reverently. His voice seemed to bring the others back to life. There were collective breaths, but no one dared speak first.

"Dear stars," you whispered under your breath, barely able to process what you had just witnessed.

Tarkin broke the silence next. "I believe I owe you an apology, Director Krennic. Your work exceeds all prior expectations."

"It is impressive, is it not?" Krennic replied, though his eyes first met yours before shifting back to Tarkin.

Tarkin’s expression remained neutral, but his words held weight. "The Emperor himself was briefed on today’s demonstration. He was most pleased."

Krennic allowed himself a faint smile. "His Excellency has authorized a formal celebration to honor those who contributed to the project’s success."

Tarkin gave a nod, his voice cutting as always. "Quite fitting. After all, stability must be recognized as well as enforced."

The tension between them simmered beneath every word. It was clear neither man intended to surrender control easily.

Without another word, Krennic gestured for you to follow him once again. You obeyed, still dazed, your mind struggling to keep pace with what you had just witnessed.

He led you away from the observation deck, the hum of the blast still ringing faintly in your ears. The corridors of the Death Star were pristine, cold, and humming with restrained energy, but you could barely focus. You followed behind him, still trying to process what you had just witnessed.

Then Krennic stopped, turning to face you fully. His voice was calmer now, but thick with the kind of pride that made your pulse catch.

"You saw it." His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied you. "But what you do not fully see is how it was made possible."

He stepped closer, lowering his voice, his words deliberate and sharp.

"The Death Star is my creation. The culmination of years spent pushing against incompetence, interference, and delays." His tone darkened for a breath before softening into something far more intimate. "But your work, Agent… your words allowed me to silence all of it."

He let that hang in the air for a moment, watching your reaction.

"Your propaganda campaigns stabilized the sectors that resisted my resource allocations. You gave the governors and the civilians comfort while I took what I needed behind their backs. The materials. The labor. The funds. No questions. No rebellions. No blood spilled."

He gave a small, almost pleased smile.

"While others fought with weapons, you fought with language. Your words became my secret weapon long before this superlaser ever fired."

You felt your stomach tighten, his words hitting heavier than you expected. You had always known your assignments were important. You had never fully understood how close to the center of his war you truly were.

Krennic’s voice lowered even more, like a quiet confession meant only for you.

"And that," he whispered, "is why they will never replace you."

******

The shuttle descended toward Scarif’s glittering coastline, where glass towers cut into the sky and pale blue waves lapped rhythmically against the shore. This was Krennic’s domain, far removed from Coruscant’s politics and shadows. Unlike the polished marble of the ISB, Scarif pulsed with quiet, absolute authority.

You followed him as he disembarked. The moment you stepped into the facility, you could feel the difference. The personnel moved with precision, efficient and almost reverent. Each time you walked behind him, you noticed it again. Officers and technicians nodded toward you as you passed. It was subtle, but unmistakable.

You leaned slightly closer, your voice quiet. "Director, is it just me, or are they nodding at me?"

Krennic did not slow his stride, but the corner of his mouth curled faintly. "They are."

"Why?"

"They acknowledge the one who made this project move forward." His voice was smooth and controlled, as if the statement required no further explanation. "Your work allowed this station to exist."

The statement struck deeper than you expected. He said it so matter-of-fact, like discussing routine supply manifests. But you knew the weight behind it.

As you continued, the two of you stopped before a medical suite. The durasteel doors hissed open, revealing pristine examination rooms within. The faint scent of sterilization lingered, cool and sharp.

Krennic signaled the physician with a small gesture of his hand. "Examine her." His head tilted slightly toward you, eyes briefly meeting yours.

You blinked. "Me?"

"I am treating my assets with appropriate care, Agent."

The physician nodded briskly and gestured for you to sit. The medical scans passed over your shoulder, the familiar whirring sound filling the quiet. A soft blue light pulsed across your skin, reading beneath the surface.

The doctor spoke after a moment. "The soft tissue in her shoulder is strained from impact trauma. She should minimize upper limb activity for a short duration to avoid further damage."

"But she may continue her duties?" Krennic asked, voice as calm as ever.

"Yes, Director. With caution."

"Good. Very good," Krennic said, almost pleased, as if the outcome had been preordained.

When the examination concluded, you rose once again and followed him out of the sterile room into open air.

The beach stretched endlessly before you, waves glittering under the pale twin suns. White sand glistened at the water’s edge while Scarif’s massive shield array shimmered faintly above like a second sky.

Krennic stopped at the edge of the platform and raised his hand, pointing upward.

"See that?" His voice was quieter now, but carried the same weight it always did.

High above the clouds, like a second moon, hung the silhouette of the Death Star. Even from this distance, it radiated silent dominance, its superlaser dish casting a faint shadow against the stars.

You stared up at it, your breath catching. That massive sphere, capable of destroying entire worlds in seconds. You had seen it fire, seen Jedha reduced to ash. And now, here it hovered, its size dwarfing everything beneath it.

Krennic spoke again, his voice distant with memory. "I have spent almost twenty years building that."

He exhaled softly. "Years of setbacks. Delays. Sabotage. And endless pressure from the Emperor and Tarkin." His jaw flexed at the name, but he let it pass.

"I nearly lost it all more than once. Resources dried up. The Senate grew restless. The Rebels attacked supply lines." He paused, then looked directly at you, his voice turning deliberate.

"Until I recognized the simplest truth. Words."

He took a slow step closer, lowering his voice into something more personal. "Words are a weapon far more efficient than any blaster or starfighter. They can reassure the frightened, enrage the loyal, and bury opposition beneath waves of false comfort."

He let the weight of it settle for a moment before continuing.

"Your propaganda was my weapon long before the Death Star’s superlaser. While others fought in the Outer Rim, I secured the resources quietly. The ore, the labor, the funding, all came willingly. You drowned their doubts before they could speak."

For a heartbeat, his voice softened, more honest than you had ever heard. "I carried the weight of this station for years. And in doing so, I failed to see how much of that weight was crushing my right hand."

You stared at him, the words hitting heavier than you anticipated. "So you see me as your equal, Director?"

Krennic smirked faintly, recovering his usual confidence. "Do not get ahead of yourself, Agent." The sharpness returned to his voice. "I said I acknowledge your work. The Emperor does as well. Together, we have built the greatest weapon in the galaxy, unlimited power delivered with flawless precision."

Your stomach tightened as you stared once more at the massive sphere in the sky. The reality of it all pressed hard against your chest.

Krennic spoke first, his voice softer than usual but still edged with pride. "It is magnificent, is it not?"

You kept your gaze on the death star. The weight of its existence still pulsed inside your chest. You answered simply. "Yes."

So this is the result of the propaganda you created. Your sleep and rest had been stolen for the sake of this deadly weapon. No wonder Krennic had made your life so stressful. He had been under pressure to finish it.

Krennic turned his head slightly, almost as if he had expected resistance, or at least hesitation. But you offered none.

"The Empire will be stronger," you added. Your voice remained even, almost cold, as if you were stating a fact rather than expressing any excitement.

For a brief second, Krennic studied you. The admission caught him off guard. He had anticipated the usual careful neutrality you often carried when he spoke of his work. But not this.

"You surprise me," he said finally. "I half expected you would quietly disapprove. That you would fear what it represents."

You exhaled slowly, eyes never leaving the massive sphere above. "The Empire. The Republic. It is the same story, Director. War. Death. Chaos. Shifting sides, new banners, different names. The outcomes rarely change."

He gave a small nod, watching you with renewed interest. "So you understand how politics work."

Your voice lowered, a small flicker of something more dangerous beneath your calm exterior. "I learned long ago that morality does not feed you. Righteousness does not shelter you. And loyalty to a side only matters when you hold the power to protect yourself."

Krennic’s eyes narrowed as if studying a rare specimen. "That is a very Imperial perspective."

You allowed yourself a faint smile, though it did not reach your eyes. "I grew up beneath insects, Director. Hiding. Starving. Waiting for leaders who spoke of hope while sacrificing those beneath them. That is what the rebellion gave me."

The wind shifted slightly, carrying the salt air between you.

"Now," you continued, "I have a name. A position. Influence. I am not that girl anymore. I will not go back to being powerless."

Krennic's lips curled, both pleased and intrigued. "You are full of surprises tonight."

"Survival changes people," you said. "Ambition keeps them alive."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Only the soft crash of waves filled the silence. The Death Star loomed above as a symbol of everything both of you had become part of.

Krennic finally broke the pause, his voice regaining its smooth, commanding tone. "I have arranged something for you. Since the Emperor wishes to celebrate our success, there will be a formal gala. I have already secured an appointment for you with one of the finest tailors in the capital district."

You turned your head toward him, mildly surprised. "Why?"

His smile was faint but calculated. "Because when you stand beside me that evening, I expect every eye to see precisely what you have become. And perhaps I owe you something for what you have given me."

The way he spoke made your pulse tighten once again, though you kept your face composed.

And once more, Krennic studied you in silence, as if savoring every moment of your quiet acceptance.

You slowly nodded, your voice soft but steady. "Alright. I will go with you. At least this time you asked nicely."

Krennic allowed himself a small smile, one that was less sharp than usual, almost genuine beneath his polished exterior. "Consider this a moment for you to finally stand where you belong. You have played a far greater role in this project than most in that grand room ever will. It is time they see that."

For a brief moment, you felt a strange shift in him. The usual weight that always hung over his shoulders seemed lighter. Perhaps now that the Death Star was finally complete, the burden he carried for years had started to lift. The man standing before you still carried his arrogance, but there was something else now. Relief. Satisfaction.

Then his voice softened again, almost contemplative. "I realize something. Both of us share a trait."

You lifted an eyebrow, already preparing for whatever twisted comparison he intended to draw. "I am not narcissistic, heartless, or an egomaniac," you replied, your tone cool but edged.

He let out a low scoff, the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes. "No. Though your courage in saying so has grown." His voice lowered, turning thoughtful. "What I meant is this. We both started at the bottom. Neither of us was handed anything. No family legacy. No favor. No safety net." He paused, his eyes holding yours. "We had to claw our way here. Alone."

You exhaled slowly, the truth of his words sinking deep. "Yes. We did."

For a moment, the wind whispered between you, carrying the scent of saltwater and polished metal. And in that silence, you both stood there, beneath the shadow of the very thing your sacrifices had built.

******

Next day, you arrived at the exclusive boutique in Coruscant. Elegant, quiet, expensive. The kind of place without a name on the door, only invitations.

The assistant greeted you with a respectful nod. "Ah, Miss. Director Krennic informed me you would arrive. Please, come in."

Inside, the boutique gleamed with shimmering fabrics, subtle lighting, and holographic displays projecting design options. You tried not to gawk. This was far above your usual world.

"It is my first time here," you admitted awkwardly.

"Not to worry, Madame," the tailor said with a grin. "The Director brings only the most special clients. First time he has sent a lady."

You blinked. Lady. Special. The words made you hesitate.

Before you could respond, the tailor continued, smiling as he prepared his tools. "Such a lucky man, your husband. Shall we begin the measurements?"

You froze. Husband. Your mind screamed to correct him, but your mouth failed to respond. The fluster settled over you like a fog. And then, the door chime rang softly.

You turned.

Krennic entered, white uniform pristine, cape swaying behind him, gloves removed, hands folded behind his back. His eyes locked onto yours immediately, the smug satisfaction clear in his gaze. He planned this.

You narrowed your eyes slightly. "What are you doing here?"

His lips curved faintly as he stepped further into the room. "I construct the greatest weapon in the galaxy. I oversee advanced military engineering beyond anything this Empire has seen. You would be surprised how easily I can also oversee the design that will make you the most… commanding presence in the room."

You exhaled quietly, biting back the remark forming on your tongue.

"Ah, Director," the tailor beamed. "We were just starting with Madame’s measurements."

Krennic’s gaze flicked briefly between you and the tailor. He heard the word Madame. He could have corrected it. He chose not to.

"Excellent," he said smoothly, his amusement barely restrained. "I trust you will ensure my wife looks flawless."

You inhaled sharply, shooting him a glare that he met with quiet satisfaction. His eyes glinted as he basked in your discomfort.

As the tailor worked, taking your measurements, Krennic circled like a predator observing its prey. His gaze trailed along your neckline, your waist, your hips. It never turned vulgar. It was calculated. Territorial.

"We will want something that commands attention," he instructed the tailor. "She must be the star of the event. Not gaudy. Powerful."

"Of course, Director," the tailor responded with enthusiasm. "Understated dominance. Grace with impact."

"Exactly," Krennic whispered, his eyes locking with yours.

Your pulse quickened. You tried to focus on the tailor’s measurements, but you could feel Krennic’s gaze on your skin like a slow, burning heat.

When the tailor excused himself briefly to retrieve fabric samples, the heavy silence returned, thick and charged.

"Wife, huh?" you asked softly, testing him.

Krennic stepped closer, entering your personal space. You felt the heat radiate from his body without a single touch.

"You did not correct him," his voice lowered into a velvet murmur.

"Neither did you," you countered, challenging.

He tilted his head slightly, his voice dropping even further. "There are worse assumptions. And perhaps not entirely inaccurate. Professionally, of course. After all, who else polishes you, shapes you, perfects you like I do?"

Your breath caught sharply in your throat, the heat rising under your skin. The air between you grew electric, heavy with the unspoken tension neither of you dared to fully acknowledge. Your defiance met his authority in a silent collision, neither backing down, both dangerously aware of the invisible line being drawn between you.

His voice dropped lower, slipping into a whisper that laced every word with quiet possession. "When you walk into that gala, they will not see you as mine because of a ring. They will know it by how you shine."

The words wrapped around you like silk, both intoxicating and suffocating. Your pulse quickened, your chest tightened, but you forced your face to remain composed, unwilling to give him the full satisfaction of seeing you unravel beneath his gaze.

At that moment, the tailor returned, completely unaware of the charged atmosphere hanging between you. He beamed, his voice cheerful as he broke the silence. "Perfect. The final design is ready. You both will be the stars of the gala."

Krennic’s smirk was slow and deliberate, full of satisfaction, like a predator savoring a silent victory. You kept your posture still, your eyes carefully avoiding his. But despite your best efforts, you could feel the heat in your cheeks, the subtle flush betraying you.

And Krennic watched, drinking in every flicker of your restraint, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

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lovecla · 7 months ago

Text

FAKE IT ‘TILL YOU MAKE IT, final phase.

➴ chapter warnings: oral sex (f. receiving), brief arguing.

➴ word count: 2.6k

💌 from me to you: and this, my loves, is the end of fake it ‘till you make it (for now!!). thank you so much for supporting me and my stories and thank you for this playlist that got me through this chapter. anyways, i’m so excited for you all to read the rest of this universe that i’m going crazy. hope you enjoy!!!! xxx

𖧷

nicohischier

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user1 What does this even mean

user2 Nico are you cheating on me

user3 TOLD YALL THEY ARE LITERALLY MARRIED WITH KIDS

emmaroberts when did you even take that 😓

user4 Cap got his first hat trick and a girlfriend in less than three months

elladavis em looks sooo cute 🥹

user5 I thought i could keep convincing myself they were just friends but this ?????????

user6 Captain Dimples has a girlfriend (and she’s not me)

user7 the “#life 😌😁” is killing me

user8 user7 Like he really said Idgaf and went to sleep

user9 user8 beside emma

𖧷

YOU GRUNTED, almost throwing your phone away when you entered Nico’s apartment, which was basically your second house now.

There were tiny, somewhat insignificant things around his place that reported that you two were together, things like your hairbrush in his bathroom, your toothbrush beside his, your books and phone charger on his bedside table.

Or maybe the fact that he keeps buying the sweets he knows you like, or when he changed the brand of softener he used because you once briefly mentioned that it made your nose itch.

You won’t deny that you’re happy with the fact that he seems pleased to have you around, but you’re still not sure if you want to move in with him— your story already sounds crazy and fast paced enough.

Still, you enjoy spending your days off with him, especially when he’s also at home, which is tonight’s occasion. He’s sitting on the couch watching The Godfather when you enter the house, but you don’t even have time to properly greet him before Richard starts talking again.

“Technically, it wasn’t due until 5 p.m. today. So, no need to get your... keyboard in a knot.”

You scoff. “My keyboard in a— what?! Richard, I was waiting for your notes last night so I could approve it. I guess I didn’t factor in your busy schedule of... what was it? Two hours chatting up Emily from graphics?”

“Oh, come on,” he laughs, like he didn’t delay a week’s worth of work. “It wasn’t two hours. More like 45 minutes. And anyway, building relationships in the office is important, Emma. You should try it sometime.”

“Building relationships? Is that what we’re calling shameless flirting now?” you ask, voice filled with rage. “Good to know. Next time I don’t meet a deadline, I’ll just say I was networking over cocktails.”

“Listen, Emma—”

“No, you listen,” you say, finally tired after thirty minutes of arguing with your colleague. You place your bag on the coffee table, and almost lose your arguments when you find Nico’s puppy, almost scared eyes looking at you. “Jake, who’s a father of two adorable, sweet girls, had to stay at work way past his work hours, re-writing half of your article. Not to mention Melissa, who also had to stay late because your inspiration left her waiting for the graphics requests you didn’t submit.”

“Ain’t that awesome? That’s what I call a real team.”

“A real team?” You almost shout. Usually, as the editor-in-chief of one of the most important sports magazines in the US, you’d try to keep your cool and act professional. But you’ve been handling Richard’s bullshit for the past two months and now you’ve had enough. “I can’t do this anymore. I want you in my office on Monday so we can discuss your leaving.”

This time, Richard doesn’t have an immediate bratty remark for you.

“Was I clear?”

“M-Mrs Roberts, I—”

“My. Office. On Monday. At half past seven.”

“I’m sure we can figure this out and—”

You look at the clock sitting on Nico’s desk and smile, even though you know Richard can’t see. “Oh, would you look at that? It’s seven p.m. which means I’m not on my work hours anymore. So, we should probably just talk on Monday.” You use your best, fake happy voice. “Have a nice weekend, Richard.”

You don’t wait for his answer before hanging up on him and sighing loudly.

“Hi, baby,” you finally say, leaning down to give Nico a brief kiss. “I’m sorry for this.”

“I’m somewhere between proud and scared,” he smiles, getting up and wrapping his arms around your tired body, as you lean closer to his chest and rest your head on it. “Proud because you’re actually standing up for yourself, scared because I have never seen you talk like that.”

You shrug. “I mean, he did make Jake go home later than he’s supposed to, several times, and I’ve met his kids, I just… if it was just me, I wouldn’t be this upset but—”

“You don’t need to justify your actions, schatz. Not to me, not to anyone,” he smiles softly, and you just lean closer to his chest. He smells like home and violets. “And the guy is an asshole.”

You laugh, reluctantly pulling away from him.

“I guess you’re right,” you said. “I need a shower though. This ‘standing up for myself’ thing is tiring and nasty.”

“Better hurry, then,” Nico whispers against your mouth. “I ordered food from your favorite place.”

You moan loudly as you make your way to his bathroom. “Fuck, I’m going to have your kids.”

His laugh is loud enough for you to hear and you smile, closing the door behind you.

𖧷

YOU’RE ALMOST falling asleep on the couch when you feel it.

It’s light and sweet at first, barely noticeable. Nico had been resting his head on your belly, while you played with his hair and tried to keep up with the last episode of The Summer I Turned Pretty.

But you probably snoozed for a few seconds, and Nico saw that as the perfect opportunity for him to bury himself in the middle of your thighs.

“Baby,” you call him, and he hums back, barely paying attention to you. “What are you doing?”

“I miss you.” Was all he said, before going back to kissing your naked thighs.

You just chuckled, looking down at him, and feeling somewhat shy as he inhales your skin, probably smelling the hints of lavender your body wash left behind.

He keeps kissing you, taking his time. It’s barely anything, yet it has you throbbing under your panties, which makes you blush. It’s embarrassing how fast you melt under his touch.

He gets up, sitting on his heels, looking down at you with lustful eyes. “You’re stressed.”

“I am,” you smile.

“I want to eat you out.”

“You do?”

“I do, yeah,” he plays with the hem of your shirt, slowly moving his finger down, all the way to your black panties. “What do you think?”

“I think that’s the best idea you’ve had in a while,” you bite your lips, hiding your grin.

He doesn’t hide his, smiling widely as he quietly drags your underwear down, lifting your hips just enough to remove them from your body.

“You have such a pretty pussy, babe,” he muttered, spreading your legs, until your bare, smooth flesh mercies the open air. “I can never get enough.”

Before you can even start to feel shy about your nakedness, Nico dives in, licking a long stripe up your pussy, not paying attention to your most sensitive part, not just yet— it had you moaning anyway, though.

He attaches his warm mouth to your core, tongue messily gliding over your lips and entrance. His movements are precise and smooth, like he was born to do this.

The tip of his tongue finds your hole, dipping inside you slowly, then, he finally licks your clit, moving his wet muscle from side to side while you trash under his touch, holding onto the couch with both of your hands.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he says, voice hoarse and silvery. “Dripping, actually. And all of that for me.”

You’re about to answer when he dives into your core again, this time focusing on your clit only. He grabs both of your thighs and pulls you towards him, licking everywhere. The sound of him eating you out filling up the room, louder than the boring show you had on.

The room’s barely illuminated yet you can see him staring at you as he licks, eats and satisfies himself with your taste. He doesn’t even blink, trapped between your legs, sucking your most sensitive part.

“Ngh.”

He stops messing with your clit just to smirk and say: “C’mon, love. I know you can be louder than that.”

And then, he dives into you again, giving you all he can. And his all has you pulling his hair and moaning loudly, even with your left hand covering your mouth.

Your release builds fast, as it always does whenever Nico decides to do whatever he wants with you. The tension in your lower belly comes faster each time you both have sex, and even though you can’t explain why, you’re not bored by it, not at all.

“Nico, I’m gonna come,” you manage to say, rolling your eyes, only to close them afterwards. “F-Fuck.”

You’re rutting against his mouth, not caring that your sweet spot’s feeling overstimulated. It’s like a feral feeling, taking over your body and mind, and your only goal is to come.

You feel lucky, so fucking lucky, to have a man like him to make you see stars, and when you come inside his mouth, it’s without warning or coordination.

You’re seeing white and you’re gasping for breath as he continues to lick you, digging his short nails into your flesh so he can keep you in place— even though you can barely move, your limbs are too weak to do anything.

“N-Nico,” you whisper, gently pushing him away because you’re sure you’re about to disintegrate if he keeps going. And also because you know he’ll be there for hours with no end if you don’t push him away. “Shit.”

He smirks, and you’re sure he’ll never look this hot again. His hair is glued to his face, and his chin is shiny with your come, but so are his lips and the tip of his nose. But what really does it for you it’s the way his chocolate eyes are shining and looking at you like you’re everything.

You grab his shirt and pull him down, kissing his lips right away, tasting yourself on his tongue. It’s nasty and new, but you don’t care; you just want to feel him, be close to him.

“There’s no one else,” you tell him. “It’s just you, and it will always be just you.”

He smiles, his dimples stealing the spotlight because they make you want to live inside his cheek forever. “Hope that’s a promise, baby.”

“Oh, captain,” you hum. “It is.”

𖧷

YOU’RE SITTING on Nico’s lap when you see her.

She enters the bar with her chin up, holding her Gucci purse under her arms and softly clicking her fingers against the phone she’s holding.

She doesn’t immediately look your way, and even though you’re not sure if she knows you and your people— Mia, Ella, Luke, Jack and Nico— had chosen this specific bar to celebrate the Devils winning streak, you can’t help but feel aware of her presence.

Nico brings you back to the present moment, squeezing your waist lightly, just enough to make you look back at him.

“What does Em think of this?” you hear someone, Luke, maybe, ask, and you shrug, trying to hide the fact that you don’t know what they’re talking about.

“Keep my girlfriend out of your useless conversations, please.” Nico says, saving you once again. You give him a brief cheek kiss, taking care so you won’t smudge his cheek with your red lipstick.

“Please, you’re so pussy-whipped it’s sad to watch.” Jack says and Mia rolls her eyes at him.

“As he should.” she grins, winking at you.

“I only asked her if she thinks the last Fast & Furious movie is boring or not,” Luke argues. “I mean, Natalie almost killed me last time I mentioned it.”

“She hates those goddamn movies,” you laugh, remembering how angry she’d get whenever someone tried to make her believe that that whole franchise is good. “You should’ve known better.”

“I guess,” Luke pouts, toying with his beer bottle and Ella smiles at him. “I lowkey miss her, is that weird?”

“It’s not weird to miss your friends, Duke,” Mia fake punches him. “I miss her a lot, too. And Quinn.”

“We should visit them once the season’s over,” Ella suggests and you all agree, making plans for your next trip to Vancouver.

The conversation makes you forget about the fact that Nora is in the same place as you, and your insecurities are set aside so you can enjoy your evening with your friends.

You’re caught up with laughing and dancing with Mia and Luke when Nico reaches for you and tells you he’s going to the bathroom, and you just nod and give him a peck, before following Luke and doing the dumbest dance moves ever, making Mia laugh and curse at both of you.

You end up knocking over Luke’s bottle of glass all over you, and even though it’s hot inside the bar, you know you’ll have to dry your shirt before heading out again, otherwise it’s certain you’ll catch a cold.

“I’ll be right back, guys,” you tell Mia and Luke before looking around and trying to find the bathroom sign. Once you do, it’s a sixteen step walk until you’re standing in front of the door that leads to the bathroom hallway, only to find Nico standing there with—

Nora.

They don’t see you, and Nora’s the first to speak again. “It’s just that… you kind of just vanished after that night at my house, and you did unfollow me on Instagram. Did I do something wrong?”

“Well, Nora, you see: you did do something wrong. You kissed me even though you knew I had a girlfriend. That’s not really cool.”

You can tell by his tone that he’s upset, and the Angel sitting on your right shoulder is telling you that you should trust your boyfriend and leave the two of them alone but the Devil speaks louder and you stay right where you are.

“But…” she’s pouting and you feel the urge to punch her. “I didn’t know you and Emma were serious. If I had known, I’d—”

“You’d what?” he scoffs. “You’re still here, even after knowing that Em and I are serious, and have been for a long time now. You followed me all the way to the bathroom just to ask if I was upset with you for kissing me even though you knew I was dating.”

“Nico, you’re being too serious. Emma doesn’t need to know what we did—”

“She already does,” he crosses his arms in front of chest and leans against the bathroom door. “And even if she didn’t, I know, Nora. If you can sleep at night knowing you kissed a compromised person, that sounds like a you problem. I love my girlfriend and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t bother me anymore.”

Nora’s silent for a few seconds before she remembers Nico’s probably expecting an answer.

“I’m not saying you don’t love her, I’m just saying that I understand if you can’t talk to me because of he—”

“It’s not that I can’t, Nora, I don’t want to,” he scoffs again. “Emma is my girlfriend for a fucking reason. I love her.”

Nora’s face is red, and her hands are shaking slightly. She nods before running out of the hallway like her ass’s on fire, only stopping when she almost runs into you.

You don't do anything besides winking at her, watching as her face becomes even redder and angrier. It’s funny how she stomps her way through the bar and leaves without a single word to anyone else.

When you look back to the hallway, you find Nico staring at you, a beautiful smile decorating his lips.

“Looks like you got yourself wet, baby.” He says, pointing to your shirt.

You smile, following him to the bathroom. “Hell yes I did. But it’s about to get worse.”

164 notes · View notes

withahappyrefrain · 9 months ago

Text

⭐ 60 Fun Meet Cutes ⭐

1) A and B’s coffee orders are identical. Confusion (and promised calls) occur.

2) A always steals B’s parking spot and normally they wouldn't say anything but not today asshole!

3) A and B are seated next to each other at the singles table for a wedding.

4) B owns a bookshop and A really needs this book because their book club meeting is in two days.

5) A is a doctor/nurse treating B for an injury, but B won't stop flirting.

6) A pretends to be B’s significant other because they can tell that creep is bothering B.

7) They meet at the dog park and their dogs won't stop playing with one another.

8) They meet at the dog park and B’s dog won't stop following A’s!

9) They're both at a party and notice the other is sitting alone on the couch so we join.

10) They get volun-told to do a karaoke duet by their respective friend groups.

12) A and B’s families have been trying to set them up for years. They meet by accident.

13) A runs a stand at the local farmers market that B loves (the owner being cute and sweet is a major plus too).

14) They grab the same book at the library.

15) “You have the wrong number, but stay on!”

16) A and B have been set up on a blind date together. Neither one of them expect it to go well, given their mutual friend's track record.

17) A and B both want the last pack of cigarettes. It's not even for themselves, but they'll certainly argue about it.

18) "Hi, I'm pretty sure I saw you on a dating app and while I swiped right, you did not and wow you're beautiful in person."

19) A’s a tour guide for B, who is currently supervising a field trip of twenty seven-year olds.

20) A is B’s least favorite author but they don't realize until halfway through their rant.

21) "Hey, my friend is into your friend. But they're too scared to make a move, can you help me get them together?"

22) They're at the grocery store and A can't reach the item on the top shelf, so B helps them.

23) “Hey, so I helped your grandparent cross the street and they insisted that I meet you, their grandchild.”

24) It's their high school reunion and A is like eighty percent sure B was their lab partner, unfortunately B has no idea what they're talking about.

25) A’s friends insisted on going to a strip club for a bachelor/bachelorette party and A is really enjoying their time talking to B, the hostess.

26) An unexpected torrential downpour happens and they end up taking shelter at the same place.

27) “I'm your neighbor and I swear to God, if you don't turn that music down-"

28) They’re both PhD students and their dissertations contradict each other's and boy, are they going to have some intense eye contact about it.

29) B is A’s child's new teacher and their kid won't stop mentioning that their parent is single.

30 “I'm so sorry, but my friends won't stop bothering me until I get someone's number tonight, it doesn't have to be your real one, I'm just so tired of their shenanigans.”

31) A is the hot firefighter who visits B’s classroom to talk about safety.

32) A and B are paired up for a roller coaster and one of them needs to hold the other's hand to get through the ride.

33) “Look, your date may not want to dance with you, but I certainly will!”

34) They're both celebrities and their fans ship them so A and B do an interview together for their respective press tours.

35) They're both on the bus and A is reading the book B’s been wanting so badly and they gotta know if it's good or not because the waitlist at the library is ridiculous.

36) They're at an art museum and have wildly different interpretations of the same portrait.

37) It's been arranged by their families for A and B to marry as a peace treaty. When they meet for the first time, they bond over their families fighting

38) "Do you mind if I sit here? There are no other seats available."

39) A doesn’t know why their friend's girlfriend invited them to their coworker's nephew's bar mitzvah but they have a stain from the chocolate fountain and B is an angel with their Tide to go stick.

40) “If you don't fix your collar/tie/hat, I will do it myself!”

41) “The food in your grocery store cart looks so good, what are you making?"

42) A sees B at the Renaissance Fair and is determined to give B a rose.

43) They're both at the eye doctor and can't figure out which glasses to buy.

44) They end up sitting next to each other in a movie theater during a horror movie, and cling to each other for moral support

45) A owns a flower shop and B just needs the courage to go inside and say hello.

46) B’s dog somehow got out and A find it. Yes, it's late at night but from B’s voice over the phone, A knows they need to return this dog STAT.

47) A has always signed up to bring the dessert for their work's potluck. Who does B think they are taking their slot?

48) A’s friends signed them up for a dating app and set them up on a date with B without A’s knowledge.

49) B’s running an adoption event and A doesn’t even like animals but my God, is B so damn cute with them.

50) They're spies who have to pretend to be a couple for an assignment.

51) They’re professors who teach the same course but disagree over teaching methods.

52) A is B’s friend's asshole boss and B is just trying to drop off C’s lunch without strangling A.

53) A’s a witch who run a shop. B barges in, asking about the best curse to give someone (without killing them of course).

54) A is a hairdresser at a fancy salon and B shouldn't be spending $150 on a haircut but they need to talk to A.

55) A is a personal trainer and B is their client and A knows they need to keep it professional but it's really hard!

56) A is the photographer and B’s the caterer for the worst wedding ever.

57) It's the county Fair and A has lost their niece/nephew, so they ask B for help.

58) A is having a horrendous case of writer’s block, B works at the cafe A has been staying in for the past few days and is very concerned.

59) Hades and Persephone AU bc why not

60) A is a tattoo artist and it's B's first time getting a tattoo.

203 notes · View notes

nomi-c · 6 months ago

Text

Pottery ventures

Professions (1/8) {San}

{San x Reader}

Wordcount: 7K

Genre: Strangers to Lovers, Smut, Pet names (sweetheart), cursing (fuck), Dominant San , Oral Female receiving, Protected intercourse, Fingering

A/n: as always with my ff's, this ff isn't meant to represent the artist in any way or form!

-Minors don't read-

With a last glance on your Phone, you cursed your best friend for cancelling on your monthly planned meet up in the very last second.

Are you sure you can't make it? You texted her, even though you already knew the answer. She spontaneously needs to stay longer at work because of some emergency at the ER.

If you would have known sooner you would've called the workshop owner and cancelled the appointment, but you were already in front of the little studio and the appointment would start in around 10 minutes.

The day was really calm and no one expected a emergency this size.... I'm sure you'll have fun at the workshop, we can still book another appointment at that shop for maybe next week?

You sighed and watched your breath form into tiny clouds as you took a sip of your coffee and pulled the scarf tighter around your neck and partly covered your nose and mouth from the biting snowy wind that caused you to shiver heavily.

I will ask him for another appointment after today, no worries. Stay strong! Love you xxx

Without waiting for another reply since you knew she was busy treating emergency patients, you took a deep breath to calm your nerves and gripped the door handle.

Staying a second longer outside wasn't ideal, seeing as in this part of the town not many people stayed outside after it got dark. It didn't matter that it was only 7pm on a Thursday, once it was dark people stayed at home. It wasn't like the area was criminally populated, it was more that the way the block was built gave off strange vibes and an eerie feeling once the sun set. Maybe it also had to do with the past of this exact block that gave you shivers whenever you thought about the mall tragedy years back.

They were in the middle of renovating the block and erasing the ugly past with new parks and buildings and incredible cafés but nonetheless people didn't forget things that easily and you were sure it would take a long while till people would be walking here carefree again.

The little Pottery studio you would visit today however had a owner who only moved here 6 months ago and probably didn’t know the history of this area before he opened the newly build studio here. When you and your best friend searched for a cool new hobby, you found his website and his rating was 5 stars through the bench.

You decided to give him a shot since the comments were good and some of the pieces you saw on his website were drop dead gorgeous. It wasnt the first workshop you both visited, seeing as you made it your adventure to try new workshops and courses every few meet ups. From photography to drawing, and from parkour lasertag. Every thing so far was awesome and a few things got stuck with you. Two of those things being Taekwondo and Art.

You smiled at the many memories that rotated in your inner eye. With a last look around you, you cautiously pushed the door open and a little bell above you ringed quietly. You instantly reveled in the warmth of the studio as you stepped in fully, you never were the biggest fan of winter and today was a particularly cold day.

Your eyes roamed over the beautifully black and white designed lobby with incredibly expensive looking modern art pieces and others that seemed like landscapes and some others like momentous of people you didn't recognize.

Walking a bit closer to it, you noted that every Individual piece was lit on by a over head lamp that gave each one its own stage and moment to shine and next to each painting you saw a little silver plate that described the painting and mentioned it's artist.

All of them were drawn by the same person, Park Seonghwa. The name didn't sound familiar to you, but whoever he is, he is a incredible painter.

You moved a bit more into the lobby and your gaze fell behind the counter, where you spotted a big lit up showcase with some of the crafted pieces you saw on the website, and with it you again saw little metal signs with the names of the people who crafted them.

You had to give it to the owner, he had a love for crediting every person he had pieces of and everyone who created art in his studio. You decided then and there that you already liked the guy.

To your left, you saw a small sitting corner which consisted of two white couches on opposite sites of one another, a black fluffy carpet and a rectangular glass table with art and crafting magazines stacked on one side of it.

On the wall next to the sitting area, you saw a makeshift bistro station with a fancy looking Barista coffee machine.

Without doubt the owner didn't only have taste in aesthetic but also in what he consumes, and what he offers his guests you thought to yourself as you saw the variety of pastries next to the coffee machine.

With a last longing look towards the sweet and probably incredibly delicious pastries, you turn back towards the front of the store.

Your eyes travel back towards the counter ahead of you, it is all black and neatly organised from what you could see behind the counter, once you reached the front of it.

Your eyes focused on the jumping screensaver on the computer on the right, that was partly turned into your direction.

You started hearing louder growing steps and focused your attention on the stack of business cards that laid out next to the blooming Poinsettia.

Only when he made his stance behind the counter, you looked up from the business card and your eyes locked with his.

Your breath however got lost along the way, he was around one head taller than you, had dark brown almost black hair, deep brown eyes and a set of adorable dimples that demanded your full attention right instantly.

He seemed to work out a lot, seeing as his frame was huge compared to you, and by huge you were talking about the fact that you could disappear behind his back fully. Looking a bit further down, the black tight shirt he wore revealed to you that his waist seemed pretty petit for his body.

You caught yourself staring at the man before you, so you quickly cleared your throat. Your cheeks burned from embarrassment and you averted your eyes on your gloved hands.

You set the cup of coffee on the counter quickly and started removing your scarf and glove, feeling unbearably warm all of a sudden. "Hello, I am the 7pm appointment. My best friend couldn't make it due to a emergency at work, so it will be just me today. I hope that's still okay with you?" You asked with a slightly shaky voice.

The guy who until now watched you with a slight smile on his lips, leaned down to his computer and typed something on his keyboard. His eyes roamed over the screen and a few seconds later he gave you a quick glance. "It's alright, I hope the emergency isn't too bad. Do you want to schedule a new appointment on top? I won't charge it extra, seeing as you still came here today instead of cancelling last minute."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "I would love that, that is really kind of you Mr. Choi. Would next week at the same time work for you?" You asked with a smile on your lips as you removed your beanie and put it into your bag with the scarf and gloves.

He clicked on his computer a few times, his eyes glued to the screen. "It works perfectly for me, I'll set the appointment. And please call me San, we seem to be around the same age."

You nodded and gave him a smile. "Thank you, San. I'm Y/n, it's nice to meet you." You said as your cautiously extended your hand towards him with a unsure smile on your lips.

Handshakes were mostly out of fashion, especially in winter and even more after the pandemic but you would feel rude to not greet another person that way. Especially someone as kind as him.

San eyed your hand for a second before his dimples reappeared and he laid his hand on yours for a firm handshake. You couldn't help but notice the two rings that adorned his fingers, one golden on his index finger, and a silver infinity looped ring on his middle finger. Odd combination you thought to yourself but didn't dare ask about it.

With anyone else you would say it's a fashion crime to mix gold and silver, but you felt like they had a special meaning and in all honesty you thought that little inconsistency fit with him.

If San noticed he didn't mention it, when he waved his hand towards the pasties to your left. "Can I offer you anything before we get started? A New coffee or maybe some Pastries?" He asked you with a kind smile and warm gaze.

You quickly shook your head. "No, thank you. I still have my coffee. But Thank you very much for the offer."

He nodded and gestured to the right where a big set of double milk glass doors was located. "Shall we?" He asked you with a smirk.

You once again felt your cheeks heat up, something about him made you jumpy but not in the creeped out way. No, he made you jumpy in a manner of your crush replied to your Text message where you ask him to date you kind of way.

You tried to calm your racing heart with a deep breath and focused on the flowers in the corner next to the double door, right beside these broad shoulders attractive shoulders of-

No. Don't go there- you curse yourself out as you follow San through the Glass doors avoiding his body with your hungry eyes as if your life depends on it.

You practically drool over your teacher for your pottery workshop right now, but could anyone actually blame you? San's proportions and looks should've been captured on old paintings cause he had the perfect proportions in any kind of way and form. You were sure artists would fight over him to be their muse, look wise as much as body wise.

You could blame your reaction on the fact that you didn't have a boyfriend or a date in years and your... well, last time feeling like this over a guy was even longer ago.

Feeling San's eyes on you, you slowly lifted your gaze from his shoulders to his eyes and felt exposed by the raw intensity of his stare.

With a smirk on his lips, he shook his head and turned left towards a little table that had a clay sack on top. He grabbed two blocks and placed them one after another on two of the workstations. "You can pick any seat you want."

You woke up from your trance and unholy thoughts about broad backs and muscular arms and set your bag next to the door on the black armchair before you picked the right seat and sat down eying the clay block with interest.

San grabbed two bowls from the side of the sink on the wall to your right and filled them both with water, before he set them next to your clay blocks on the work stations next to the rotation disk.

"Do you have knowledge in pottery?" He asked with his back on you, as he went towards his desk where a bunch of pottery goods sat which he carefully grabbed to place them in yet another showcase to fully dry unharmed.

You shook your head, even though you knew he couldn't see it right now. "I don't know anything about it, me and my best friend wanted to try it and make cute mugs for our reading weekends together."

He nodded, processing your words for a second or two before he turned to his left where a couple of aprons hung on the wall next to the burning oven.

You followed his movements as he picked 2 aprons one smaller and one bigger black one which you assumed was his personal one.

When he turned back around to make his way back to you he had a soft reassuring smile on his lips. "Pottery isn't as difficult as most think it is, you might take a few tries but you'll get the hang of it quickly."

Once he was seated next to you, he handed you the smaller apron slowly. "Did you already think about what you want to create today?" He asked you with a curious expression on his features. His prominent cheekbones slightly rosy from the warmth of the studio.

You quickly searched your mind for possible things you could create and that were easy enough for a absolute beginner as you laid on your apron, but you only came up with a total basic idea. "How about a vase?" You asked as you remembered the beautiful vase you knocked off the dinner table the other day. It was the only vase you had since the many years you lived all alone.

San tilted his head to the side, his indexfinger with the golden ring tapping on his lip absentmindedly. "It's a good choice, easy but with a good purpose."

You nodded in agreement. San's eyes focused on the clay block in front of him before he shot you a quick glance. "I'm sure you already noticed the clay block in front of you, so what we want to do with it to begin, is to loosen it up. We archive that by kneading the clay like a you would with a fresh dough."

He took the clay in his hands and started kneading it and made sure you copy his moves before he spoke again. "We knead or wedge the clay to remove any possible bubbles inside, to make sure our work will be stable and won't break as easily after or during it's getting burned."

You nodded and quickly made a messy bun, already annoyed by the hairs that kept on blocking your view as you kept on kneading the small clay bock thoroughly.

Minutes ticked by with neither of you saying anything, the only sounds in the atelier were your breathings and the faint melody that flowed out of the ceiling speakers quietly.

Your arms were already getting sore and you felt a small droplet of sweat making it's way down your forehead. "How long are we supposed to knead it exactly?" You asked a little out of breath.

San's quiet laugh made you stop your work and look at him instead. He was still kneading the clay, your eyes focused on the strong muscles on his arms and how they moved under every movement he made.

He formed a small clump with it and set it on the middle of the rotating disk. "The longer, the better. It's tiring at the beginning but try to see it as a workout instead with a nice new pottery good as reward." He told you with a smile on his lips.

You shook out your arms, trying to ease some of the burning tension in your muscles and shaped your clay block almost the same. "Can I ask you something?" You asked San as your eyes darted through the artillier and you saw more framed photographies and art pieces on the walls, you even spotted a fallen angel stone figure in the far corner by the window which you didn't notice while entering the space earlier.

San turned in his twisting chair towards you and leaned his elbow on the workstation as he eyed you curiously. "Sure, ask all you want."

You turned towards him as well, glad to rest your arms a bit more as well as stilling your curiosity at the same time. You gestured towards the walls and the stone figure. "Are you interested in photography and art and stone sculpturing? I couldn't help but notice them right away." You said as you once again eyed everything in the room with adoration.

Seeing as you love art yourself you couldn't help yourself but standing up and inspecting it closer. It was like a invisible line pulled you towards the art he displayed and created. The color combinations and techniques the artist used drew you in, and the different vibes and auras each painting gave off seemed to tell a story you yet had to discover fully.

San who slowly walked up behind you, looked at the painting as well. You didn't see his face but could hear the pride in his voice when he spoke again.

"The paintings and sculptures and even the pictures are all from my best friends."

Your eyes went wide as you turned around and looked up at San's face with a dropped jaw. "These belong in big galleries and museums. They are masterpieces."

You saw a dimple form on his left cheek as he paced the room. You followed him, checking the art pieces with him with full attention. "Seonghwa is an artist, he draws everything that captures his interest, from people to objects, to abstract art. He wants to open a gallery in the future, but until then he asked if he could spotlight some paintings here. I loved the idea, it gives the studio flair and showcases his work at the same time."

When you guys reached another photography of what seemed to be a woman's back hugged by shadows and a industrial styled window front with San Francisco in the back, he stopped again as you took in the big framed photograph. "Wooyooung is a photographer, he always had a incredible eye for aesthetic and when he grabs his camera, you can be sure to see a masterpiece as result. He actually has his own gallery, but he gifted me some pieces as welcome present to my first own studio. He helped me a lot building this place."

Your eyes went even bigger as you continued listening to every word San said. He gestured to the angel stature and his smile got soft. "Yeosang is a Stone sculpturor, but if you ask me he should sculpture himself as well cause with his looks he doesn't stand the figures he creates behind in anything at all. I'm sure Michael Angelo would have taken him as student and muse if he would be alive still. His skills are impeccable, even if what he creates sometimes tends to be melancholic." He said as he grazed his hand softly over the broken wings of the crying angel.

You didn't take your eyes away from the stature, too much in awe about its raw beauty to look back at San. "Everything here is incredibly beautiful and has so much meaning behind it, this is breathtaking." You almost whispered as your finger softly touched the forever rolling tear of the angel.

You walked a bit further and carefully grazed your hand over one perfectly tailored mug, it resembled london as you quickly realized with the big ben in the background and a person that seemed to wait for something.

"What's your favorite style?" You asked him as you wondered if he drew the places on pottery that he visited or knew.

A soft smile appeared on your lips at a old memory of your trip there years back for your year abroad.

San sighed as he eyed the mug you softly cradled in your hand. "I don't think I have found my personal style yet, I'm relatively new with painting detailed pieces. I used to just glaze the pieces over in white. It's timeless and classic."

You nodded in agreement. "Does this one has a story? Looking at your work I would say you're a really talented painter as wellby the way."

San leaned against his desk in thought, thinking your words over in his mind as he looked around the office. "Isn't that what art of any kind is about? A purpose or a story that needs or should to be told? Like for example you chose a vase, is there a story behind it? Cause I could think there is one." He asked as he turned his attention on you with a raised brow and a twitch of his lips.

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "Well, in my defense I really need a vase. Mine broke months back and since then I haven't been able to buy flowers anymore." You quickly blurted out.

San laughed quietly and opened his mouth to say something but you were faster. "Anyways, you don't need to talk about it when it's too personal. What I was trying to say was that your art is incredible. I'm glad I chose your studio to learn pottery." You followed up saying, trying to erase your embarrassment.

San's cheeks got a slight bit colored and you saw a hint of a dimple as he rubbed his neck awkwardly. "Thank you, shall we continue?"

You nodded and strolled back towards your work station, happy that he didn’t further commented on your choice of work for today.

Once you were seated again, he wet his hands and got the round plate of the workstation spinning. You watched him closely and imitated his movements, your eyes glued to his strong hands as he softly worked on the clay and managed to get the clay to part to a hole on the middle.

Surprisingly enough, you managed to do the same on the first try. A happy laugh bubbled up inside you, as you eyed his next movements like a hawke.

"For the next step, you have press from both the inside and the outside against the clay to thin it out while you also pull it slightly upwards to shape it to your liking." He explained as he wet his hands in the bowl a bit more and slowly did what he explained.

He made sure to place his hands and arms in a way that you would be able to see it perfectly from your seat.

When he was done with that part, he turned off the workstation and turned towards you.

You could easily make out the bigger body and slimmer neck of the vase, when the spinning lessened you had to say it already looked damn near perfect.

Your eyes connected with his for a second, and you saw nothing but kindness and patience in his eyes as he waited for you to start.

With a deep breath, you turned on the workstation with the button on the side, and wet your hands in the bowl with warm water.

You felt San move a bit closer, but paid no attention to him as you set your hands both on the inside and outside of the cool clay.

You recalled his instructions from ealier and started carefully molding the clay. At first it was a bit difficult because even after all the kneading, the clay felt a bit dense.

But easily enough you saw it get thinner and wobblier. It started to seem to spin out of control, and San quickly rolled his chair behind you.

His hands smoothed over yours as he pushed away your foot from the pedal to take control over the spinning speed of the table.

His warm hands engulfed yours easily, as he lessened the pressure you put on the vase. You watched it regain its composure almost immediately.

You felt his warm breath tickle the side of your neck as he leaned his head forward, at your back you softly felt his chest against you.

Your heart started racing as you watched him guide your hands over the body of the vase in an attempt to save it and to even out the thickness of it, seeing as it was pretty uneven. "The first attempts are always a bit out of control, that's totally fine and normal. When you feel it getting out of hand, you have to lessen the speed of the rotation disk. Otherwise you risk the clay to smack into your face."

He explained as you felt his thigh muscles contort and bump against your leg when he showed you how the speed would affect the rotation disk.

You felt your cheeks grow hot and you got unbearably warm. Your mind only seemed to care about his close proximity and his incredibly good smelling perfume. Of how his hands felt around yours and the breath of him that tickled your neck with each breath he took.

You watched as the clay induced liquid rushed over and between your hands as he started forming the neckline of the vase together with you. You caught yourself slightly glancing over towards his face that almost rested on your shoulder and noticed a few lose strands hanging close to his eyes, it was a effort to not automatically reach out and swipe them away.

You shook your head slightly to clear your thoughts, and averted your eyes back towards your forming Vase. He adjusted your fingers on the vase slightly and applied a bit of pressure to your grip before he spoke next. "When you use just about the right amount of pressure, it will turn out just how you want it. This is about the thickness it needs to ensure it's stable and won't break while burning." His voice was raspy and close to your which didn't help your current situation at all. You took a small breath as your legs pressed together Involuntarily.

You nodded, not trusting your voice to not betray you more than your body already did. He angled his arms a bit more to be able to guide you better and in the process his back was now flushed against your back and his arms were pressed against yours further which caused tiny goosebumps and a shiver through out your arms and the back of your neck.

You could swear you heard his breath hitch for a second but you wouldn't allow to let your mind travel to the possibility that he was reacting to you the same way as you reacted to him.

You watched as he guided your hands further up the neck to work on the top rim of the vase. He let go of your hands and dipped them into the bowl quickly and set his hands back on yours.

His head turned towards you slightly. "Do you like it like this? Or should we try out another Design?"

The air rushed out of your lungs as he accidentally grazed your ear while speaking, your back pressed against his chest slightly in response.

You quickly opened your eyes in mortification and quickly shot up from your seat, hitting yourself on the workstation hard enough to probably leave a bruise behind as you fumbled your way out from being wedged between San and the workstation.

You dipped your hands in the now tainted water and wiped your hands on the apron, before you removed your the cardigan and walked the few steps towards your bag to place it on top carefully.

You felt San's presence somewhere behind you vividly, which only worsened the throbbing inside of you. "I gotta use the restroom real quick." You all but blurted out as you quickly exited the room.

You had no clue where said toilet was but you needed distance before you would jump him.

"Second door on the right!" He called after you from where he stood as you barged through the door and almost ran into the restroom.

Once the door was locked, you rested your back against the cool wood and slid down to a crouch.

Deep breaths. In and out. Calm down. You can do this.

After collecting your thoughts for a second, you went up to the sink and splashed your face with ice cold water to get a grip.

Your hands gripped the edge of the marble sink tightly as you eyed yourself in the mirror. "Calm down and focus!" You told yourself with strict face before you patted your face dry and unlocked the door.

The temperature in the lobby felt significantly colder which you gladly welcomed as you walked up to the little table in the sitting area and poured yourself a glass of water from the pitcher.

You took a deep gulp to get rid of your dry mouth as you peaked inside the studio again. You didn’t see him immediately, but you spotted his work station empty.

You stepped inside quietly, scanning the room quickly and spotted leaning against his desk in thoughts.

He wasn't turned towards you, instead he seemed to watch the vase, his vase, do it's thing in the fire oven.

You creeped a bit closer towards him, gripping your water in a death grip as your heart was beating a thousand miles an hour. Once you caught up to him and only a few steps separated you, you cleared your throat to announce your presence without startling him.

His head snapped in your direction and he straightened, before you saw him made a step towards you. "I'm sorry." His voice sounded sincere, but his eyes seemed to hold that same barely contained restraining that you were sure would be mirrored on your own eyes as well. "I'm sorry if I acted unprofessionally towards you, I don't know what I was thinking."

He turned away from you and your had to strain your ears to hear his next words. "That's what I should say, right? Even if I don't mean it." He raked his hands through his hair frustratedly.

Your stomach tightened as you registered his words and saw his exquisite back muscles flex with his movement.

You made a step towards him, as you felt your need coursing through your body violently. That much for calming down.

You set the glass of water down on his desk, as he turned back towards you quickly. His gaze was wild and pure of need as he fixated your full lips and then your eyes. "You know what? I'm actually not sorry. Since you walked in, I can't think fucking straight. I should be professional, I know that, but all I can think about since you stepped into my studio are all the different ways I could fuck you senseless inside of this god damn place. I just want to-"

You didn't let him finish as you closed the distance between you in light speed and crashed your lips against his.

He caught you around your waist reflexively as he tensed up for a second, but then his restrain snapped as grabbed you by your neck and janked you flush against his chest.

A small moan left your lips when your hips connected with his and you felt him hard against your stomach.

You felt his tongue graze over your teeth, asking you for entrance and without thinking twice you let him in. Your tongues started a instant battle for dominance, as you moved your hands through his silken hair and tugged slightly.

You could feel him smirk against your lips as he pushed you back until your ass connected with the desk.

His hands wandered down your sides, setting every inch of clothed skin on fire until he reached your thighs, he gave you a little nudge and you jumped enough to up wrap your legs around his waist thightly.

His hips pushed you onto the table hard and another moan left you at the sensation. His mouth started traveling from your lips onto your neck where his tongue drew lazy circles over your sensitive spot. You felt the fabric of his shirt wrinkle under your tightly fisted hands on his chest as you moaned his name.

One of his hands rested flatly on the desk while his other sneaked over your shoulder in a feather light touch and pulled your straps down, fully in contrast to his wicked tongue. "Please." You bagged as you tugging on his shirt.

He sucked sharply on your neck in response, as your head fell back from the sensation. "Please, what sweetheart? Use your words."

Your back arched as he kissed his way further down your neck. He softly pushed down your tanktop until it pooled at your hips as he clasped open your Bra with his other hand. Out of the corner from your eye you saw your Bra flying to a random corner. "P-please touch me." You begged again as your hand went back to his hair and fisted it?

His indexfinger travelled from your bare right shoulder down onto your hard nipple, where he gave you a slight pinch. "That's what I'm doing right now, no?"

Before you could respond his mouth cupped your other boob and his teeth grazed your sensitive skin.

You pulled on his shirt frantically, desperate to feel his skin under your finger tips. As a whine left your lips, the feeling already overwhelming but at the same time not enough. He released your boob with a pop. "So responsive." He smirked and pulled the shirt over his head to give you a perfect view of his incredible physic.

You let your hand wander over his soft and muscular skin. A growl left his lips as he gripped your wrist and yanked you towards him, his lips crashing on yours in a devouring kiss again.

He unbuttoned your jeans in a swift move and linked his thumbs in the fabric of your jeans as he janked town both your pants and underwear down in one move.

His indexfinger with the golden ring travelled up your bare tigh before it disappeared between your legs where he raked a finger through your soaking folds. Your head fell back in bliss. "Gods"

San eyed your expressions like a hawk, as he cupped you and dipped a two fingers inside of you. Your walls tightened against him as he started pumping inside of you. Your hand gripped his biceps forcefully as your hips rocked against his fingers, taking everything you would get.

Endless moans echoed through the studio as he crashed his lips back on yours. He slightly bit your bottom lip as he curled his fingers inside of you which made you scream out his name.

You could feel your release rapidly build inside of you. "Please.... I'm..." You managed to say, but it was all to overwhelming.

San shook his head with a smirk as he removed his fingers from inside of you. "You're finished when I let you. And I'm dying for a taste." He all but purred before he settled between your legs and looked up at you directly.

It took all your left restrained to not come at that sight directly, and he seemed to notice it, because he grabbed your knees and spread you apart further before he placed your legs on his shoulders.

His smile was deadly as he eyed your bareness before him and dived in light speed.

His tongue laid flat against you as he swiped up your center, your head rolled back as a loud moan left your lips.

San's hands flexed around your thighs as he pulled you closer to wards him. He backed up enough to look back at you. "I want you to look at me, sweetheart."

Your eyes found him reflexively as he dived back in and dipped his tongue inside of you. A rumbling moan left his lips as he started devouring you like a starved man.

While your hips ground against his face shamelessly and greedily. You felt your climax build up in light speed as your legs started trembling. He sucked in your bundle of nerves once twice and your hands gripped his fair painfully. "Come." He ordered and thats all it took as you screamed his name and started seeing stars.

Your release washed over you in intense waves as he picked up every drop of you greedily. You were still shaking uncontrollably as he got up and pulled you flush against his bare chest. His lips found yours and you could taste yourself on him as he spinned you around and bend you down on the desk.

You heard him shuffle and open a condom behind you as your head laid on the side, eying the crying angel stature.

His hand trailed up your spine sensually as he wedged his bare leg between yours and spread your legs apart. You felt his chest against your back, and your ass instinctively pushed back against him.

You felt him twitch against your entrance, as his mouth nipped on your ear before he gave you another soft kiss on your neck.

Without another warning he gripped your hair in his hand and janked your head back as he slammed into you fully. A scream left your lips at the feel of him inside you.

San's voice sounded taut as he pounded into you with enough force to make the whole table move. "Fuck, you're tight."

You slammed your ass back against his hips in desperation as he pulled out of you almost fully and slammed back into you. "You're perfect." He groud out betwen his teeth before his lips found your shouder where he gave you a small kiss.

The glass you set on the table ealier, spilled more and more water on the table but you couldn't give less of a fuck as it just like you for the second time in a row edged closer to destruction.

His lips slammed back on yours as he picked up speed, a trail of moans left both your lips as he pounded in you mercilessly. The scandalous sound of smaking skin, moaning and harsh breathing almost overshadowed the scraping of the table as it moved further and further towards the wall opposite of you.

His movements grew slowly erratic, indicating you that he too was close. As his other hand wandered between your legs where his index finger drew lazy circles around your bud.

You screamed his name as you started shaking and saw blinding white light and stars. His other hand drew soothing circles against your back, much in contrast to his harsh thrusts that had his balls slamming against you with force repeatedly and said. "Let go."

Your back arched and your ass slammed back against him with force as your hands gripped the edge of the desk so hard it was starting to hurt as another scream raked through your body and shattered you into sweet oblivion.

San cursed under his breath as you felt him twitch hard inside your spasming walls. He thrust in you a few more more times, before he too came apart inside of you with a curse of your name on his lips as he rode out both your highs.

Once your both caught your breath a bit he pulled out of you slowly but continued drawing soothing circles on your back. "You know, I've been dreaming of seeing you again from the moment I saw you that day by the namsan tower years back."

Your eyes snapped open in shock, that day you saw him, you realized now. Across the crowd you noticed him and his friends and already back then your breath caught in your lungs.

You've been staring at one another for few seconds when he made a step towards you, waving some of of the peddles from his view.

You were just about to make a step towards them too before your best friend pulled you with her towards the boarding bus.

It followed you for a while on vacation, but you eventually forgot about him. Hell, you didn't even trust yourself that you didn't make the whole thing up back then seeing as your best friend didn't see them at all and said you're crazy.

His Hand massaged the back of your neck under your hair softly. "You asked about the mug earlier, I made it as first art piece once I arrived back home. I was searching for you everywhere that day after you left with your friend, but I couldn't find you."

You set back up on the table as he went up to the sink to wet up a clean cloth, you didn't notice it before but you saw now that he was wearing his underwear again and a loose white shirt.

You pulled up your tanktop again but were still in shock about his recent words. "It's been you? I wasn't sure if I didn't make you up in my mind. My best friend didn't see you guys and said I'm delusional." You laughed to yourself as you already looked forward to clowning her about the whole thing.

After he carefully cleaned you up, he sat you back down on your feet and you quickly pulled up your pants as he did the same.

"Wooyoung never really stopped looking for your friend either by the way. He said she would be his perfect muse." He said with a smirk that highted his dimples even more.

A soft laugh escaped you as a thought formed in your mind. "You just gave me an idea for her next single workshop." San mirrored your knowing smirk as he laced your hand with his and led you towards the work station and your almost finished vase.

He turned towards you with a shy smile. "It might be a bit out of order, but would you like to go on a date with me? I would love to see where our story goes."

You gave him a big smile in return and nodded your head. "I would actually love that."

He took a seat on his spinning chair and pulled you onto his lap before he gave you a kiss on your temple and turned he workstation back on before wet his hands. "Let's start with finishing up your work first."

A/n: I tried to proofread this FF as best as I could, but English isn't my first language, and I'm dyslexic so I apologize for the eventual mistakes. I hope you liked this ff.

Little Bonus: I found this while looking for inspos for the thumbnail pic. ♡

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