#i'm feeling quite emotional this afternoon

[milla-frenchy]

So happy to read them again 😍😍

You lay on the couch, the blanket Joel brought you tucked snugly beneath your chin, feeling the comforting weight of it. The soft fabric smells faintly like him—like the dust and leather of the ranch, with a hint of something deeper you can't quite place. Your body aches from the injury, a constant reminder of your fragility, but the blanket is a small luxury, an oasis of warmth amid the discomfort.

This is so beautiful and vivid 😍😍

There’s something reassuring about having everything within arm's reach, a reminder that you still have some control, some autonomy, even if your body doesn’t quite feel like your own right now.

I loved all of this. Reading her emotions, feeling them. Poor baby 😥

"What’s her name?" you ask gently, your voice soft but steady. You’re careful, wanting to open the door without forcing him through it.

omg this is beautiful. I love how careful she is

"Named after my grandmother. She is—" His voice catches, the present tense faltering mid-sentence like a misstep on uneven ground. "She was a special kid."

I didn't plan to have my heart broken on a wednesday afternoon after work oh nooooo 😥😥😥

"S’been tough," he admits, his voice low, almost a murmur. "But you find a way to keep goin’. Life doesn’t stop, even when you wish it would."

And this?! This hurts so much, and, it's so true...

When he finally releases your hand, moving his arm slightly,  the warmth of his skin lingers, a quiet reminder of the moment you’ve shared. "Thank you darlin’," he says again, his voice steady but soft. There’s something in his eyes now—something lighter, as if the act of sharing, of being heard, has eased the weight he carries, if only a little. "Means more than you know."

❤️❤️❤️ I love this so much

And then he’s gone. You stare at the ceiling, your heart heavy with regret, the words you wish you’d said echoing in your mind. "Stay. Please stay." But you didn’t. Instead, you let him walk away, the distance between you growing not just physically but emotionally.

Why didn't youuuuuuuu 😭😭😭

"I... I don’t know how to do this," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Letting someone—letting you—"    "You don’t have to know," he says quietly. "You just gotta let me in."  

omg what? 😍😍😍 Odiiiiii you have me on an emotional roller coaster what are you doing to meeeeeeee

“Should’ve just stayed downstairs, fuck sakes,” he mutters to himself.

uuuuuh you're really trying to kill me here

Joel steps closer, his fists clenched at his sides. “You think this is about you bein’ a burden? Dammit, I don’t care about that! I care about you not gettin’ yourself killed because you’re too damn stubborn to listen!”

I ALWAYS love when Joel tells someone they're stubborn. I always cackle, cause LOOK WHO'S TALKING, SIR 😂😂😂

“I’ve been where you are,” he says, his voice low. “I’ve lost too much. And I’m not gonna lose anyone else... not like this.”

Damn. Speechless. Odi if I catch you!!! (I'm gonna send you a lot of gifs to take revenge 😌😏)

Howdy Honey II. Beautiful Mess

Series Masterlist * Masterlist * Wordcount 6.6K

Summary: Joel grapples with his frustration and fear after you push him away

Warnings: the fluff before the smut! Some angst and mentions of loss

Notes: Thank you for the long wait for this chapter. Getting back into it with these two has been so much fun! I am very excited for the next chapter heheh. I can foresee three more chapters, which I will hopefully have out at a decent pace. Ty @evolnoomym for reading this over ♏️🌙

You

The first rays of morning light filter through the gauzy curtains, casting a warm glow across the living room. The ranch outside is waking up, the sounds of hooves and rustling hay mingling with the birds' early songs, but inside, there is a stillness. The air is cool, soft, and peaceful before the day fully begins. You lay on the couch, the blanket Joel brought you tucked snugly beneath your chin, feeling the comforting weight of it. The soft fabric smells faintly like him—like the dust and leather of the ranch, with a hint of something deeper you can't quite place. Your body aches from the injury, a constant reminder of your fragility, but the blanket is a small luxury, an oasis of warmth amid the discomfort.

The potted plant in the corner catches your eye as its leaves flutter in the breeze coming through the open window. The subtle movement is a welcome distraction, drawing your focus away from the twinges of pain in your side, from the dull ache that’s become your constant companion. It's not the worst pain you’ve felt in your life, but right now, in the stillness of the room, it feels like the only thing that matters. You wish you were in your own bed, in the comfort of your familiar space. You can almost picture it—your room upstairs, the soft quilts, the shelves filled with books you've collected over the years. But the reality of your situation makes that impossible. The mere thought of climbing the stairs sends another sharp wave of pain through your body, reminding you that independence is a luxury right now, not a reality. You’ve always been fiercely independent—too proud, maybe, to admit when you need help. The idea of relying on Joel, especially now, when every moment around him seems to stir something inside you, feels almost too much to bear. When you were healthy, those stairs were nothing. You could run up them without thinking twice, bounding up two steps at a time. Now, the idea of even attempting it is enough to make your chest tighten, a reminder that things have changed. You can’t ignore it.

Joel has offered more than once to carry you up to your room, insisting that you’d be more comfortable in your own bed. But each time, you've turned him down. It’s not because you don’t trust him. You know he’s kind, that he genuinely wants to help, but the thought of him lifting you, of feeling his strong arms around you... it stirs something in you—something complicated. It's not just physical pain you need to recover from. There’s a tangle of emotions you can't unravel yet, especially not with Joel so close. Instead, you remain on the couch in the living room, finding comfort in its familiar layout. The space is small, but it feels like everything you need is within reach. The kitchen is just a few steps away, and the thought of being able to grab something to eat or drink without too much effort is a small but significant source of relief. You don't have to ask anyone for help every time you need something. The books and movies you've scattered around the room are close enough that you can slip into another world with little more than a turn of your hand. There’s something reassuring about having everything within arm's reach, a reminder that you still have some control, some autonomy, even if your body doesn’t quite feel like your own right now.

But perhaps the most comforting part of this setup is Joel—always nearby. You know he’s there, moving around the ranch just out of sight, yet still within earshot. You can hear the faint sounds of him tending to the animals, the creak of the barn doors, the rustle of hay and boots on the dirt. It's not quite company, but it's enough. If something were to go wrong—if the pain in your side flared up again or you needed assistance in a way you couldn’t manage—Joel would be there in an instant. The thought of him close by, ready to step in, is both a comfort and a quiet reminder of how much you rely on him these days. You tell yourself that you don’t need him, but there's an undeniable warmth that settles in your chest knowing he’s just a room away. Still, the idea of needing help from him, especially in such a vulnerable state, stirs something deeper in you. Something that makes your heart flutter unexpectedly, a feeling that you can’t quite define. It’s easier this way—on the couch, within your little bubble of semi-independence, where your emotions can stay tucked away, just like the soft blanket Joel brought you.

You glance over at the cover of one of his daughter’s western novels, the title catching your eye. There's something about it that piques your curiosity, stirring questions you hadn’t meant to ask. Who is she, this daughter of his? Was she older? And then, the question that sits uncomfortably in your mind: Is Joel married—or was he? You’ve never seen a wedding band on his finger, never heard him speak about a wife. The mystery about him lingers, unresolved. You know you should be resting, but your mind refuses to settle. You shift slightly, adjusting the blanket as you try to distract yourself. Your eyes drift back to the book on the table—a well-worn copy of Lonesome Dove, its spine cracked and pages dog-eared. Something about the worn edges calls to you. It's a link to the world you grew up in, a reminder of the ranch life, of the toughness and independence that runs through your veins. You never could quite leave the ranch, even when you tried. You reach for the book, your fingers brushing against the paper's texture, the act of holding it feeling almost like coming home. You open the cover to the first page, the familiar scent of ink and aged paper filling your senses. As you dive into the world of Gus McCrae and Woodrow Call, the stories of cowboys and cattle drives pull you in. You’re captivated by Gus and Woodrow—two men bound by their pasts but so different in their approach to life.

As you read, you find yourself identifying with Lorena Wood, Gus's girlfriend. Her fight for her place in the world, her refusal to let others define her, resonates with you deeply. The scene where she insists on joining the cattle drive despite the objections of the men speaks to something inside you. The words, “I ain’t afraid of a little hard work,” echo in your mind, a mantra of defiance that you wish you could adopt fully. You can’t be weak. You won’t be.

"Dreamin’ is free, Lorena," Gus says to her, his voice a mix of wisdom and weariness. "It don’t cost nothin' extra to dream good dreams."

The words settle over you, and for a moment, you close your eyes. You think of Joel—his gruffness, his strength, the way he moves through the ranch with a quiet intensity. He’s always there, a steady presence in your life. You can’t help but wonder what kind of man he was before, what dreams he once had, what kind of life he led. Your thoughts drift, pulled back into the story before you can get too lost in them. The sun climbs higher in the sky, its light streaming through the windows, warm now, settling into the room. You glance at the book beside you and set it aside with a small sense of pride. You've made it through several chapters without letting your mind wander too much.

Your side aches more now from sitting too long, and you know it’s time to try standing. It’s been too long since you felt any sense of control over your own body. You push the blanket back, and slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the couch. The room tilts slightly as you plant your feet on the floor, and you take a steadying breath, trying to ignore the sharp twinge in your side. You hate this. Hate feeling weak. Hate needing help. But you can’t let that stop you. You refuse to let it define you. You're determined to regain some independence, to show Joel that you're not just some fragile thing that needs constant watching over.

You push yourself up, wincing as another wave of pain stabs through your ribs. The movement is slow, deliberate. Each step feels like an accomplishment, even as the pain pulses beneath the surface. You make it to the kitchen, though you're panting by the time you reach the counter. You grip it for support, feeling the cool edge beneath your fingertips. The simple act of pouring yourself a glass of water feels like a triumph.

Then you hear the creak of the front door. You don’t have to look to know it’s Joel. The sound of his boots on the floor, the low murmur of his voice as he moves about the ranch—it's all so familiar now. You hear him pause, then step into the kitchen. His eyes widen when he sees you standing there, gripping the counter like it’s your lifeline.

"Well, look at you," he says, a note of surprise and admiration in his voice. "You're up and about."

You offer him a small, self-conscious smile, glad he’s not rushing to fuss over you. "I thought it was time," you say softly, setting the glass of water down with careful movements. "I can't just lie on the couch all day."

Joel chuckles, his gaze sweeping over you with that same intensity that sends a warm flutter through your chest. He steps closer, cautious. "Reckon not," he agrees, voice low. His eyes linger on you, and you can't tell if it's concern or something else. "But don’t go pushin’ yourself too hard now."

"I’m fine," you insist, a little too quickly. "But you look like you’ve been at it all morning. Would you like something to drink?" You try to sound casual, but the offer feels like an excuse to keep him there, a way to ease the tension building between you.

"S’alright, I can get it," he says, but his voice is strained, tired. He wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, a visible sign of the work he's been doing.

Before he can protest, you start toward the fridge. "Shut up," you say with a teasing smile. "I got it. Iced tea, right?"

He chuckles softly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "That’d be perfect, darlin’."

The fridge door opens with a soft creak, and you pour the tea, the cool liquid filling the glass with a satisfying sound. The simple act requires more focus than it should, but you take your time, savoring the moment of normalcy. You hand him the glass, your fingers brushing his ever so briefly. The touch is light, fleeting, but it sends an unexpected jolt through you, a spark that neither of you can ignore. For a moment, you both stand there, neither of you speaking, as if waiting for something to break the silence. His gaze flickers to the floor, then back to you, and he clears his throat, taking a small step back.

"Thanks," he says, his voice steady but low, and his eyes meet yours briefly before he raises the glass in a small salute. He drinks deeply, closing his eyes as the cool tea washes over him.

"You're welcome," you reply, your voice quieter than usual. You busy yourself with straightening up the kitchen, your hands shaking slightly as you try to ground yourself in the mundane. But even in the simple act of tidying, you can feel his gaze on you, the weight of it making you feel exposed in a way you can't quite understand.

"You’ve found some use for the blanket and books, I see," Joel says, his voice soft, but you catch the hint of something more in it, something like pride.

"They've been a good distraction," you answer, a little more casually than you feel. "I'm curious about your daughter’s books. She’s got good taste."

At the mention of his daughter, Joel’s face softens, a wistful look crossing his features. "She always did love a good story," he says, his voice quiet, distant. "Used to read to her every night when she was little. We'd get lost in all sorts of adventures together.”

The conversation takes a quiet but significant turn, pulling you both into uncharted emotional territory. You sense it the moment Joel’s expression softens at your question, his guarded demeanor cracking just enough to let a sliver of vulnerability through. It feels fragile, like holding a bird in your hands, its rapid heartbeat thrumming beneath your fingers. You tread carefully, hoping not to press too hard but unwilling to let the moment pass unacknowledged. "What’s her name?" you ask gently, your voice soft but steady. You’re careful, wanting to open the door without forcing him through it.

He hesitates for just a breath before answering, his lips curving into a small, wistful smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Sarah," he says, his voice tinged with warmth and something deeper—something bittersweet. "Named after my grandmother. She is—" His voice catches, the present tense faltering mid-sentence like a misstep on uneven ground. "She was a special kid."

The weight of that single word, was, hangs in the air between you like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples of meaning outward. It cuts through the small warmth his smile brought, replacing it with a heaviness that settles deep in your chest. Your heart clenches, the realization landing like a blow. You try to keep your voice steady, though your stomach twists. "Was?" you venture cautiously, the single syllable feeling heavier than it should.

Joel’s expression shifts immediately—his jaw tightening, his eyes narrowing just slightly as if bracing for an impact. You see the pain flash through him, raw and unguarded, before he wrestles it back under control. For a moment, you think he won’t answer, that he’ll shut you out completely. But then he takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort, and when he speaks, his voice is quiet and steady, though it trembles at the edges. "Sarah passed away a few years back." The words are spoken simply, but their weight is unmistakable, each syllable heavy with grief he’s learned to carry in silence.

The room feels smaller suddenly, the air thinner. You struggle to find something to say, some way to acknowledge the enormity of what he’s shared without reducing it to a hollow platitude. "Joel, I’m so sorry," you finally manage, your voice barely above a whisper. The sincerity in your words is palpable, your own troubles momentarily forgotten in the face of his loss.

Joel nods, his gaze distant, focused on something you can’t see. He doesn’t brush off your condolences or wave them away as you might have expected. Instead, he accepts them with a quiet grace that’s heartbreaking in its simplicity. "S’been tough," he admits, his voice low, almost a murmur. "But you find a way to keep goin’. Life doesn’t stop, even when you wish it would."

His words linger in the air, stark and unvarnished, and you feel the ache in them like a bruise pressed too hard. There’s no bitterness in his tone, no anger—just a quiet resignation, a weariness that feels like it’s etched into his very being. You wonder how often he’s spoken these words, if at all, or if he’s kept them locked away until now. Your gaze drifts to his hands—strong, calloused, and steady even now, despite the weight he carries. You reach out before you can think better of it, your fingers brushing against his forearm in a gesture that feels both small and monumental. "I can’t imagine," you say softly, your words feeling inadequate but heartfelt. "I’m sorry you had to go through that."

Joel looks down at your hand, his gaze lingering there for a moment before he lifts his eyes to meet yours. There’s something in his expression that makes your breath catch—a flicker of gratitude, of recognition, and something else you can’t quite name. "Thank you," he says simply, his voice rough but sincere. He shifts slightly, covering your hand with his own. The warmth of his touch is startling, grounding, and you’re acutely aware of how solid he feels, how present. "For listening," he continues, his voice softening. "I don’t... I don’t talk about Sarah much. It’s hard, you know?" His eyes hold yours, and you see the weight of the years he’s carried this pain, the quiet strength it’s taken to keep moving forward.

You nod, unable to look away. "I think you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for," you say quietly, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them. "Just... holding onto her memory like that. Letting her still be a part of you."

His brow furrows slightly, his gaze searching yours as if he’s trying to decide whether to accept your words. "Don’t feel strong most days," he admits after a pause, his voice so low you almost miss it. "Just feel tired."

The honesty in his words makes your chest tighten, and you press your hand against his arm just a little more firmly, as if to anchor him. "Maybe that’s what strength is," you offer, your voice soft but unwavering. "Getting up every day, even when it feels impossible. Carrying her with you, even when it hurts."

Joel doesn’t respond immediately, but you see something shift in his expression—something almost imperceptible but deeply significant. He exhales slowly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction, and when he finally speaks, his voice is quieter than before. "Maybe," he murmurs, the word more of a concession than a conviction.For a long moment, neither of you says anything. The silence is heavy but not uncomfortable, filled with the weight of everything left unsaid. You let it linger, sensing that Joel needs this space, this moment of quiet connection. When he finally releases your hand, moving his arm slightly,  the warmth of his skin lingers, a quiet reminder of the moment you’ve shared. "Thank you darlin’," he says again, his voice steady but soft. There’s something in his eyes now—something lighter, as if the act of sharing, of being heard, has eased the weight he carries, if only a little. "Means more than you know."

—-------

As you prepare to settle onto the couch for the night, the creak of the wooden floor under Joel’s boots pulls your attention. Before you can process what’s happening, he’s beside you, scooping you into his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of his hands against you and the solid strength of his hold leave you momentarily breathless.

"What are you doing?" you protest weakly, though your body betrays you by instinctively wrapping an arm around his shoulders for balance.

He doesn’t stop moving, his tone gruff but resolute. "Takin’ you to your room. You’ll be more comfortable there, and it’s about time you used it again." You start to protest again, murmuring something about being too heavy, but he only huffs. "You think this is the first time I’ve carried someone? You’re fine. Quit fussin’."

Before you know it, he’s carrying you up the stairs, each step steady and sure despite the burden you’re sure you must be. The faint scent of leather and woodsmoke clings to him, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. When he reaches the top, the hallway stretches ahead, dimly lit and quiet except for the faint creak of the floorboards beneath his boots.

Your bedroom door creaks as he nudges it open with his foot. The room feels foreign, almost untouched since your injuries—a time capsule of your life before everything fell apart. Joel sets you down on the bed with a gentleness that belies his rough exterior, his hands lingering briefly to ensure you’re steady before he pulls away.

"There," he says, adjusting the covers around you with meticulous care that makes your chest ache. "Now you get some rest. I’ll be right downstairs if you need anything."

You watch him turn, the broad slope of his shoulders framed by the faint hallway light. A sudden unease wells up in your chest, irrational and overwhelming. The thought of being alone in this room, in this moment, feels unbearable. The words leave your lips before you can stop them.

"Joel, wait."

He stops in the doorway, his silhouette pausing against the light. "What is it, darlin’?" His voice is calm, but there’s an edge of concern beneath it.

Your fingers grip the edge of the blanket as you force yourself to speak. "Could you... stay? Just for a little while. Until I fall asleep."

For a moment, he’s quiet, the furrow of his brow barely visible in the shadows. He looks at you like he’s weighing something heavy, something he’s not sure he can carry. But then he nods, his voice softer when he speaks. "Yeah. I can do that."

He grabs a chair from the corner of the room, pulling it close to the bed and settling into it with a quiet sigh. The room feels smaller now, his presence filling the space in a way that should be comforting, and yet... you feel the weight of it pressing against you.

Joel sits silently, his hands resting on his knees, the flickering light from the bedside lamp casting deep shadows across his face. His gaze flicks toward you occasionally, careful and guarded, as if afraid to linger too long. You watch him through half-closed eyes, noting the subtle lines etched into his features—lines of exhaustion, loss, and something else you can’t quite place. There’s a tension in his posture, a quiet restraint that makes your chest tighten.

"Joel," you say softly, the quiet sound of his name pulling his gaze to yours. He raises an eyebrow, waiting, but the words you wanted to say catch in your throat. What could you even say? Thank him for his kindness? For caring when you’d tried so hard to convince yourself you didn’t need it. Instead, you settle on something you instantly regret. "You don’t have to stay, you know. I’ll be fine."

His expression shifts, the corners of his mouth tightening ever so slightly. For a moment, he doesn’t respond, but when he does, his voice is quieter, almost unreadable. "If that’s what you want."

You open your mouth to correct yourself, to say something that might soften the blow, but the words don’t come. Joel stands, his movements slow and deliberate, as if giving you time to change your mind. You don’t.

"Goodnight, then," he says, his tone even, though there’s a weight behind the words that you can’t ignore. Joel stands, the chair groaning slightly as he pushes it back. He doesn’t move hurriedly, but there’s a deliberateness in his movements that makes your chest tighten. The air between you feels heavier, laced with something unspoken, something you’re not ready to name. And then he’s gone. You stare at the ceiling, your heart heavy with regret, the words you wish you’d said echoing in your mind.

"Stay. Please stay."

But you didn’t. Instead, you let him walk away, the distance between you growing not just physically but emotionally. The warmth of his presence lingers faintly, like the scent of his leather and woodsmoke, but it isn’t enough to fill the void. The ache in your ribs pales in comparison to the one in your chest. You lay there, staring at the ceiling, what was this feeling that had taken root inside you? It wasn’t just gratitude anymore—it was something else, something harder to define. You’d always prided yourself on not needing anyone, but Joel had a way of making that wall crumble, brick by brick. It was confusing. Maybe you were reading too much into it. Or maybe... maybe you were just afraid to hope again. But the way he’d left, the quiet disappointment in his eyes—it made you feel small, stupid even. What were you so afraid of? You hated yourself for pushing him away when all he’d ever done was try to be there for you. But it was too late now. The door was closed, and so, it seemed, was he.

The room is dark, save for the faint glow of the moonlight spilling in through the curtains. You hadn’t noticed Joel still standing there, silent as a shadow. He lingers by the doorway, his silhouette sharp against the dim light. He’s watching you, his brow furrowed, torn between staying and leaving.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” he mutters, more to himself than you.

You turn your head slightly, startled. You thought he'd left. His gaze meets yours for a moment, but the weight of it is too much to hold. You look away, biting the inside of your cheek. “I’m fine,” you say, your voice tight and unconvincing.

Joel lets out a low scoff, shaking his head. “Fine,” he repeats bitterly. “That your favorite word or somethin’?” His boots barely make a sound as he crosses the room, sitting back down on the chair beside your bed. His presence is overwhelming, filling the small space like a storm cloud about to break. You feel the heat of him, as you try to keep your breathing steady. “I know what you're doin',” he says quietly, his tone softer now. “Pushin' me away. But you don’t have to.”

You close your eyes, willing the tears to stay put. His words are gentle, but they cut deep, peeling back the layers you worked so hard to hide behind. You struggle for words, your breath uneven. "I... I don’t know how to do this," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Letting someone—letting you—"  

 "You don’t have to know," he says quietly. "You just gotta let me in."  

His voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it now, like he's fighting against his own limits, his patience fraying. You want to reach for him, to let yourself lean into him, but the weight of your own walls is too heavy. You want to let go, but something inside you holds you back, paralyzes you with fear. Fear of what letting him in might mean. Your throat tightens as you try to form the words, but nothing comes. His gaze sharpens, but he doesn’t push you—he waits. The tension hangs thick in the air, heavy with unspoken thoughts. But the longer he waits, the more it seems like he’s losing the battle inside himself.

You finally meet his eyes again, but it’s like something’s shifted. There’s still care there, but it’s mixed with frustration, something raw and real. He stands, his movements slow but resolute. "You can’t keep doing this," he says, his voice low but intense. "I can’t keep doing this. You want me to stay, and then... then you push me away.”

His words strike you like a physical blow, the sting of truth cutting through the silence. You don’t know what to say, your heart pounding in your chest, but nothing feels right. The space between you is growing, and you’re helpless to stop it.

The chair scrapes against the floor as he moves it back, the sound harsh in the heavy silence. His words strike you like a physical blow, the sting of truth cutting through the silence. You don’t know what to say, your heart pounding in your chest, but nothing feels right. The space between you is growing, and you’re helpless to stop it. 

He moves toward the door, the floor creaking beneath his boots, and you want to scream—to tell him to stay, to tell him you’re not fine, but the words are lodged in your throat, like you’re choking on your own fear.

You sit up in bed, your breath shallow, but you don’t call out. You don’t stop him.

Joel pauses at the doorway, his back to you. For a long moment, it seems like he might turn around, like he might say something else, something to bridge the gap between you. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, his shoulders stiff, his head slightly bowed as though he’s already made his peace with walking away.

Finally, his voice breaks the silence. "You need anything, you holler. I’ll hear ya."

And then the door clicks softly shut behind him.

You sit there, staring at the empty space where he was, the weight of his words still pressing down on you. Your fingers curl around the blanket, but it offers no comfort. Your mind races, a mess of emotions, regret, and frustration. You want to call him back, but it feels like it’s too late.

The room is silent once more, and the emptiness is suffocating. You close your eyes, your chest aching, and for the first time in a long while, you realize how alone you truly are..

Joel

The soft glow of the kitchen light spills across the empty room as Joel leans against the counter, nursing a cup of coffee he doesn’t really want or need at this hour. He stares into the dark liquid, his thoughts elsewhere, running over the events of the evening like a song stuck on repeat.

He shouldn’t feel disappointed. You’d made it clear you didn’t want him there, and he respected that. Hell, he’d been in your shoes before—pushing people away because it felt safer. He couldn’t blame you for it. But that didn’t make the sting of it any easier to shake.

Joel sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He’d seen the hesitation in your eyes, the conflict. He’d wanted to tell you it was okay, that he’d wait as long as you needed. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure how long he could wait. Every moment he spent with you, every quiet exchange and fleeting touch—it all felt like it was building toward something he wasn’t sure either of you were ready for. "Should’ve known better," he mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible over the hum of the fridge. But even as he says it, he knows he’d do it all over again—because for you, he would wait.

The coffee in Joel’s mug has gone cold by the time he finally pushes himself off the counter and trudges to the living room. He sits heavily on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the darkened television screen. Sleep isn’t coming—not after the way the evening ended.

He rubs a hand down his face, trying to shake off the frustration welling in his chest. It wasn’t your fault, not really. Joel knows that better than anyone. But the way you’d looked at him, the way you’d pulled back, it felt like a door slamming shut in his face. Like he was stupid for even hoping.

“Should’ve just stayed downstairs, fuck sakes,” he mutters to himself. He knows better than to get too close, to expect anything. It’s not fair to you, not when you’ve got enough to deal with. And yet, here he is, hoping like a damn fool.

The faint creak of the floor above reminds him you’re still there, probably lying awake just like he is. Joel shakes his head, dragging a heavy quilt over himself as he stretches out on the couch. Tomorrow, he decides, he’ll keep his distance. Let you come to him if you want.

But the hollow ache in his chest says that might never happen.

—

The next morning the shutting of the door pulls Joel from a restless sleep. He stretches, his back protesting the hours spent on the couch, and grumbles as he sits up. The smell of coffee drifts through the house, but it’s faint—like someone turned the pot off before it finished brewing. Joel frowns. He knows you’re still stiff from your injuries, and the thought of you moving around too much sets him on edge. He stands, rubbing a hand over his face, and heads toward the kitchen.

The sight of the empty space only deepens his unease. The coffee pot is half-full, a mug sitting beside it untouched. He glances out the window, his gut twisting when he spots you trudging toward the barn, determination in every step.

“What the hell are you doin’ now?” he mutters, already grabbing his jacket as he steps outside.

The morning air bites at his skin, but Joel barely notices as he closes the distance to the barn. By the time he reaches the open doors, you’re already climbing onto the tractor, one hand on the seat and the other gripping the wheel.

“Hey!” Joel’s voice echoes sharply in the quiet.

You freeze, your head whipping around to face him. “What?” you ask, your voice defensive, though there’s a flicker of guilt in your eyes.

Joel’s chest tightens, but he doesn’t let it show. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”

Your brow furrows, and you straighten your shoulders, your stubbornness flaring to life. “I’m trying to help. You’ve been doing everything, and I thought—”

“You thought wrong.” His tone is sharper than he intends, but the sight of you on the tractor—the very image of Sarah in her last moments—sends a cold wave of fear crashing over him.

You bristle at his words, swinging your legs over the side of the tractor to face him fully. “Excuse me? I’m not a kid, Joel. I can handle this.”

“No, you can’t,” he snaps, his voice louder now. “You don’t even know how to work that damn thing, and you’re in no shape to be tryin’!”

Your eyes narrow, hurt flashing across your face before you mask it with anger. “I’m just trying to pull my weight, Joel. I’m not some burden you have to carry! And yes I can fucking drive the tractor.”

Joel steps closer, his fists clenched at his sides. “You think this is about you bein’ a burden? Dammit, I don’t care about that! I care about you not gettin’ yourself killed because you’re too damn stubborn to listen!”

The words hang in the air, heavy and sharp. Joel’s breathing is uneven, his chest rising and falling as he fights to keep the memories at bay. Sarah’s laughter, the hum of the tractor’s engine, the sickening sound of it tipping over—it’s all there, clawing at the edges of his mind.

But he doesn’t tell you. He can’t.

Instead, he swallows hard and steps back, his jaw tightening. “Just… don’t do this,” he says, his voice quieter but no less firm.

You stare at him, confusion and hurt written all over your face. “Why are you acting like this?” you ask, your tone softer now, but Joel shakes his head.

Joel’s chest tightens, and the fight in his voice only deepens. “Doesn’t matter,” he mutters, but you’re not about to let him brush this off.

“Why the hell not?” You step off the tractor, your foot hitting the ground with a thud, your breath a sharp inhale from the pain and ragged in the cold air. “You’re acting like I’m a damn liability—like I can’t handle myself. You think I want to sit around doing nothing while you work yourself to the bone?”

Joel shakes his head, his eyes dark with frustration. “That ain’t it, and you know it. You think I want to be overprotective? You think I don’t see you fightin’ through every goddamn thing just to prove you’re not weak? I get it, alright? But this—this isn’t the way to do it.”

“You don’t get it,” you snap back, your voice growing more desperate. “I don’t need your pity, Joel. I don’t need you to hold my hand or protect me like I’m some fragile thing you have to save. I’m fine. I can do this.”

“You’re not fine!” Joel’s voice cracks, his patience running thin, and the raw emotion behind it makes you pause, your anger faltering for just a second. He steps closer to you, his face inches away. “You’re not fine, and I’m not gonna sit here and watch you hurt yourself just because you’re too damn proud to accept help.”

Your ribs ache as you take a step back, your hands trembling at your sides. His words, his proximity—they feel like they’re suffocating you, pulling you into a place you don’t want to go. But you can’t stop yourself. “I don’t need help,” you mutter, though the words come out unconvincing, jagged.

Joel’s gaze softens, and for a brief moment, it’s like you’re both standing in some kind of fragile truce. But it doesn’t last. The distance between you, emotional and physical, feels too heavy to bear, and Joel moves in again. His voice is quieter now, but there’s a deep, aching sincerity in it. “I don’t want you to need help. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You swallow hard, your chest tightening with something you don’t know how to name. It’s the space between your stubbornness and his care, the tension of wanting to push him away but knowing deep down that you can’t. You want to break, to let go, but you won’t—can’t—show him how much you’re falling apart.

You both stand there in the cold, the world around you feeling distant, like it’s no longer real. And then, before you can stop yourself, you say something that takes both of you by surprise. “Why do you care so damn much?” Your voice cracks as you finally let the wall down, the question raw and vulnerable.

Joel’s eyes darken, his breath catching at the depth of the question. He looks at you, really looks at you, and there’s a long silence that stretches between you, thick with everything unspoken. Then, his lips curl slightly, the ghost of a sad smile on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“I’ve been where you are,” he says, his voice low. “I’ve lost too much. And I’m not gonna lose anyone else... not like this.”

You don’t know what to say to that. For a moment, your anger falters, replaced with something deeper, something you can’t hide anymore.

Before you realize what’s happening, you’re the one reaching for him, your good hand finding his shirt, pulling him toward you. He hesitates for a second—his body tense, unsure—but then he moves, just like you knew he would. The kiss is sudden, urgent, and the world tilts with it. Your ribs protest, but you don’t care. His hands cradle your face, his lips pressing against yours, rough but soft, like he’s trying to steady himself just as much as you are.

Your heart races in your chest, the ache in your ribs fading as the heat of him seeps into your skin. For a brief, fleeting moment, everything else stops. The fight, the stubbornness, the fear—it all disappears in the space between your mouths. It’s like he’s holding you together, like you’re finally letting him do the one thing he’s been begging you for - to let him in.

When you break away, it’s slow, your breath ragged, but neither of you moves far. You’re still close—too close—and yet, somehow, it feels right. Joel’s forehead rests against yours, his breath warm on your skin. He doesn’t speak at first, just keeps you there, close enough to feel the weight of his every breath. Finally, he whispers, his voice hoarse. “You’re not alone, you know that?”

You nod, the words too hard to say, but the truth of them sits heavy between you. And for the first time in what feels like forever, you believe it.

Taglist @akah565 @anoverwhelmingdin @brittmb115 @hannah9921 @maried01

@mermaidgirl30 @red-red-rogue @wintersquirrel

[imaginespazzi]

There are some things in the world that simply just cannot be put into words. Just how fucking good Maya Moore was at basketball is one of those things. You can list all of her achievements out and I still don't think it'll encompass the brilliance of the player she was. There really and truly was nothing that Maya couldn't do on the court; she excelled at everything. Only 8 seasons in the W and Maya is still at the top of every list, every statistic and I won't even touch upon just how exceptional she was in college. I think the world, and Maya herself, knew she'd be too powerful if she gave the sport any more of her time.

But as much as I would have loved to see Maya continue to play, and as much as I laugh at every joke about how her husband will pay for taking her away, I think it's really beautiful how Maya found another purpose that fulfilled her just as much as basketball did. I think it's really beautiful that she got to walk away from the sport she loved on her own terms. And I think it's really beautiful that she seems completely content with the decision she's made because that's what Maya deserves.

Still, when I think of greatness, I will always think of Maya Moore.

Here's to you 23. Thank you for giving us just a moment of your time. Thank you for letting us see, what perfection can be.

[buckets-and-trees]

When He First Got Me

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark and rough Nomad!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Word Count: 2200 Summary: Prequel in the Exiled Nomad Series. July 3, 2017. Steve sees you at a city festival for the Fourth of July, but he's not content with only seeing...

Content/Warnings: explicit smut, vaginal fingering, kissing, rough sex, emotional unavailability, a broken Nomad who thinks he's fine but definitely is not

Author Notes: IT IS NOT NECESSARY TO READ ANY OF THE REST OF THIS SERIES. True stand-alone prequel. A little something for Steve's birthday weekend... This will be a bit of a darker indulgence for @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar challenge: mint chocolate chip (involving a loner), sprinkles (birthday and 4th of July), cherries (meet-cute), and we'll even say some caramel (because Steve is not quite in a great headspace if we're being honest). AND I'm entering this for @witchywithwhiskey's Slasher Summer writing challenge: carnival/fair, slight stalker (but not fully), and I bolded the dialogue prompt that I used.

Steve didn’t feel like he could breathe easily, but he did feel like he could breathe here. Nothing like New York or DC. A place small enough not to be noticed but big enough to blend in without drawing attention as a stranger.

Being invisible somewhere had been easier than carving out the opportunity to do so solo over the 4th of July – less because it was America’s Birthday and more because it was his. Steve had suggested Wanda finally reconnect with Vision (they’d been on the run long enough, it should be safe for her to reach out and discreetly stay off the grid). The case he made to Sam was that he’d been on the run for over a year, and the 4th was less expected for a sentimental return to stop in on family but would still afford a holiday’s community celebrations and to give him reasonable cover to slip in and out. Nat hadn’t needed convincing. She saw, asked if he was sure, but understood without him needing to explain, and said she had things of her own that she’d take care of.

He just didn’t want any of the fuss of them trying to make him feel better on his birthday.

Steve was sitting on a shaded grassy knoll in the city park, hundreds of people around him, all weaving in and out of booths with games, vendors, and food, a vibrant temporary set up for a few days around the 4th, and on the far side of the park the sounds of carnival rides underscored it all.

He hadn’t come to this place to find someone.

But the moment he first noticed you, the plans started forming in his head before he could stop them.

And why should he stop them?

As he alternated between sketching in his notebook and people-watching, people watching turned into watching only you – you wandering this place clearly alone. Must be on your own in this city.

It would be so easy to harmlessly bump into you.

So he did.

When you recognized him, he could easily use the moment to draw you into keeping his presence in such a public place secret, getting you to trust him by him “trusting you” with his secret.

And he did.

He could easily ask if there were any good places to eat in town, then ask if you would join him.

He did, and you did.

After walking you home, it would be so easy to get you to invite him in, an afternoon and evening of conversation, compounding moments, and more and more casual touches on your arm, your shoulder, the small of your back, the back of your hand, having your body attune to him.

And it worked.

You hesitated, but invite him in you did.

And he tried for a moment to convince himself that being invited in had been all he wanted – to be someplace that wasn’t a stolen moment or a hotel room or a safe house that itself wasn’t very safe, just to be someplace private, someplace normal, someplace that felt like home.

But that was not the only thing he wanted.

And why shouldn’t he take the rest of what he wanted? After everything, didn’t he deserve it?

You didn’t notice that he locked the door behind him. You’d been apologizing for the state of your place, though after a quick glance around, he assured you it only looked lived in, not a mess.

Not like the mess he was so eager to make you into beneath him.

After insisting you didn’t need to get anything for him, he sat on your couch. He told you how nice it was just to sit there, nowhere to be, no reason to hide, how tired he was of running. You listened; you soothed him. He leaned in and kissed you.

You kissed him back.

All he did was kiss you until you leaned back on the couch and urged him along with you.

He let his chest press into your deliciously soft body. He groaned into the kiss, and you opened your mouth to his. This kisss grew in fervor, tongues exploring and tangling with each other. His hand ran up and down your thigh, slowly coaxing you to hitch it up around his waist. You moaned when he ground gently against your core – gentle only to test the waters. His need was mounting exponentially, and he knew the damn would break soon. He intended to let it.

He moved his lips from your mouth to your shoulder, kissing there before teasing his lips and teeth and tongue along your collar bone to the sensitive point of your neck. You sighed in bliss, and he moved his hand back up your thigh, over your hip, across your stomach, undid the top button he found there, and started to reach into your jeans.

Your breath hitched, and your hands flew to his.

“Steve, wait,” you said.

But you didn’t say stop.

He waited.

He could hear the wild racing of your heart beneath him.

The pressure of your hands on his body didn’t change, no part of you shifted to move away. Your eyes closed, the only sign of your reticence were your teeth worrying your bottom lip.

Steve slid his hand down to cup your pussy and his fingers found the wetness growing there that he expected. You let out a shuddering breath as his fingers worked your labia, but he didn’t linger there. He pulled his fingers out and then pushed them into your mouth.

“Neither of us wants to wait,” he snarled as you licked your slick from the pads of his fingers. “And it’s summer, we’re supposed to be having fun.”

Super soldier serum running through his veins, Steve picked you up with ease, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, legs around his waist, while he held one of your thighs and pressed his other hand at the base of your spine, pinning you securely to him while he captured your lips to kiss you again.

He easily found your bedroom, and he lowered you to the bed in a kneeling position. He didn’t relent in his kissing, devouring you, demanding your supplication. He only broke off the kiss once you were breathless, moaning, and pulling at his clothes. Then he stepped back and told you to undress. Steve quicky removed all his own clothing while keeping his eyes on you. You only removed your shirt and jeans, leaving you in your underwear, but he could work with that for now. He’d have you willing to shed the rest soon enough.

Steve got up on the bed with you, pleased that he could see your eyes darkening with the lust and the want. He recognized exactly the kind of want he was dealing with – it was how he imagined he would have behaved before living the harsh life of denial he’d lived while exiled and on the run for the past year. The old him would have wanted but been hesitant, gone slow, paid attention to more of the dance before even getting into bed.

He didn’t have the luxury of time or the patience for that.

He only had an insatiable need that he’d pushed down and ignored – ignored for years even before becoming Nomad. He’d denied himself so many things, sacrificed for others, for missions, too many legitimate and imagined reasons holding him back.

He wouldn’t hold back now.

But he would coax you into needing him as much as he needed you.

You only glanced at his naked groin with a moment of hesitance as he pulled you into his lap, but you still let him. He resumed your kissing, and you were quick to continue making out with him. He allowed you take the reins to steer the kissing, letting you lap up at the pace you wanted. He let his hands roam over your back as he eased you along, seemingly unhurried. But his hands soon made their way to your hips, and he secured his grip there and began grinding you down against his hard cock. He moaned unabashedly into your mouth as he adjusted the angle of your hips and continued rocking your core against him.

He was insistent on torturing you where your most intimate parts met until, clinging to his shoulders, you threw your head back, gasped for air.

“Steve,” you keened his name, clearly in the early stages of sweet ruin that he wanted.

He smirked against your neck and laid you down on your back with deceptive sweetness. He kissed slowly down your chest, between your breasts, down over your belly button. His fingers hooked into the top of your panties just as his lips arrived at the top of that fabric, and he peeled them down and fully off your legs. Your fingers worked anxiously over the sheets beneath you as he made you wait for him to touch you more.

His hands opened your legs back up, pushing at your knees to splay you open like a butterfly beneath his attention.

He worked both of his thumbs up and down over your labia, smearing your cunt with your juices, studying what he was about to claim and ruin. Then he looked up at your face and said, “This is mine now, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” your voice was soft, nervous, but also eager.

It hadn’t actually been a question, but he wanted you to say it out loud.

The only question was how he wanted to take you first.

Since he planned on taking you in every way, he went with the most convenient first, easing his cock into you slowly, but with no apologies for how thick he was, pressing into you despite the resistance – not that of a virgin, but of a cunt that had never taken a cock so big before. You cried out – but he knew the tone of it was pain drenched with bliss, he could hear it. What’s more, when he was fully sheathed inside you, he waited, unmoving. He watched your chest rise and fall with a few breaths. When you finally shifted your hips against his, he knew he had won. You wanted more. The beast inside of him surged in satisfaction, and then he began to aggressively thrust in and out of your tight channel.

He leaned forward, and your knees hitched up around his waist to urge him on. You clawed at his back, and when he reached between your bodies and found your swollen clit, he rubbed furious circles over it until he was rewarded with the clenching of your cunt around him, the seizing up of every muscle in your body, as he delivered your first orgasm of the night.

He continued pumping in and out of your spasming cunt until he was right at the edge, then pulled out and fisted his cock with only two more strokes before releasing hot ribbons of cum over your stomach.

Your fingers inched hesitantly toward the mess, and he put his hand over yours and pushed your fingers and his through the mess, pressing it into your skin. Then he moved your hands away and lowered his body down onto yours, the sticky spend between your skin and his there.

“I…” you started, but then paused.

He slipped his other hand beneath your head, cradling it in his palm. “Mmm?” he hummed against the spot behind your ear.

“I’m clean and have an IUD.”

He groaned and nipped at your neck. “You want me to continue to fuck you more. You want me to cum inside you.”

“Yes, Steve,” you simpered.

“Mmm, such a good girl,” he pressed a hot kiss against your neck, then rolled off being on top of you, and to his side next to you. “Best give you what we both want, then,” he said as he turned you onto your side, back pressed to his chest, and felt below to press his dick into your hole again.

Hours later when its far past midnight, you’ve passed out from exhaustion.

Or at least that’s what he thought.

But when he slipped back onto your bed after taking a piss, you scooted your body in next to him, put your hand on his chest, and muttered the sleepiest, “Happy birthday,” to him he’d ever heard. He almost wondered how you knew switching from the third to the fourth meant it was his day, but then he remembered the time when seemingly everyone knew it was Cap’s birthday.

While he wasn’t Cap anymore, it still struck something in him and made his chest warm.

But he didn’t feel like you would make a big deal out of it or make him feel bad and that maybe it would be nice to be with someone on his birthday, so he decided to stay. He told himself it was to be distracted chasing more bliss with your body. He ignored the other thoughts working through his mind. He only wanted – only needed – the distraction. Nothing else.

NEXT: July 4, 2017. read more Exiled Nomad Series

I'M GLAD Steve's POV won in the poll I ran earlier this week... clearly since I made the poll my muse was leaning heavy towards it anyway, but this was certainly illuminating to see more of where Steve's head is at in this ... situationship.

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[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Tw: parent abandoning their child, fluff, angst

Series masterlist

The afternoon sun filtered through the living room window and cast a swath of gold over Noah's house. You were sitting crossed-legged on the couch, watching Luna play silently, her small hands precisely set her favorite toys in a small, neat row, where Mr. Flop, her favorite bunny, had proudly taken the central point, guiding whatever game was in her head.

You smiled at her concentration, something warm blooming in your chest.

She was a perfect blend of Noah's features, a mirror image of him in her own way. She had his warm, deep brown eyes with his same subtle almond shape, dark hair, with a way chubbier face.

Noah leaned against the counter in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee. Some brown locks fell over his eyes as they darted between you and his daughter in quiet contemplation and hesitation.

You could tell something was on his mind. It had been incredible between you and Noah in the past few months, but there was one part of his life he'd held carefully at arm's length: Luna.

That wasn't because he didn't trust you, you knew that. It was deeper than that, more complicated. He was protective of her in a way hard to explain unless you knew the full story, which he had only recently begun sharing with you.

It had been late one night, just the two of you curled up on his couch after Luna had gone to bed, when Noah first opened up about the relationship with his ex. In the beginning, it had been passionate-whirlwind-type love, felt like the kind that could move mountains.

But once Luna was born, everything shifted. She was never ready for the reality of being a mother, and slowly but surely, it dawned on him that with each passing day, she actually resented it. Noah tried to understand her, tried to support her in whatever way he could, but nothing seemed to help. The more he tried, the more she pulled away.

One night, Noah had come home to an empty house. No note, no explanation, just Luna, not even a year old yet, lying in her crib, and complete silence in every room. His ex was gone, had walked out on both of them, and though Noah tried to reach out, tried to get her to come back, she never did.

From that moment on, he'd vowed to protect Luna from anything or anyone that might hurt her. Or perhaps that was his way to protect himself, too.

You both were up late, the only sound in his living room coming from a small lamp in the corner of the room, its dim light.

Noah was sitting next to you on the couch, his back hunched and his elbows to his knees as he stared into the floor for thought collection. You knew he had been carrying something heavy in his head for quite some time.

"I never thought that I'd ever be a single parent," he said gruffly, as though the words hurt him to utter. "But then again, after what happened …I don't really see my life in any other way anymore. She is everything to me."

He stopped, rubbing a hand over his face, and in those eyes you could almost see his tiredness, not physical, but an emotional toll, when one carries so much on his shoulders alone. You said nothing, just let him work through the words at his own pace. You could feel his vulnerability hang between you like some fragile thing he was just willing to show you.

"I didn't have time to process what happened," Noah whispered. "One day I'm in this relationship and we're trying to make it work for Luna, and the next… she's gone. Just like that. I came home and she'd left. No explanation. No good-bye."

Your heart ached with the pain in his tone, even now raw with emotion.

“I didn’t know what the hell I was doing,”, he admitted, shaking his head. Just like that, it was him and Luna against the world.

"I was fucking terrified" he said, the corner of his lip curling up in a self-deprecating smile. "I had to figure out how to be a dad by myself, how to balance that with the band, how to be there for her when I was barely holding it together myself."

He glanced up at you then, his eyes warm with appreciation and a little fear. "She's the reason I'm so careful, you know? With relationships, with people in general. I don't ever want to bring someone into her life unless I am really sure."

He paused, his throat swallowing hard as his eyes drop once again to the floor. You could tell there was more he wanted to say, but it was hard for him to speak.

"I'm scared that…," he started, then had to force himself to continue, his voice faltering. "I'm scared that you're mad at me. Or disappointed, maybe. That I'm taking things too slow with you. That I haven't fully… let you in yet. It's not because I don't care about you, because I do. A lot. It's just—"

"Noah," you said softly, leaning in closer to him. "I'm not mad. I'm not disappointed. I get it, why you want to be careful. It's okay."

His eyes finally met yours, surprise flickering in them. He had been so consumed by his fear of messing things up that it hadn't occurred to him you might actually understand where he was coming from.

"You've been through much," you went on, your voice soft but clear. "And I get why you'd want to protect Luna. I'd be more concerned if you were being anything less than careful, honestly. It says how much you love her, and how much you want to do right by her. And I respect that, Noah. I'm not going anywhere."

He blinked, like he was trying to absorb what you were saying, his shoulders loosening as your words soaked in. You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. His hand closed around yours, clasping at it like he was holding onto something solid for the first time in a long while.

"I can wait," you said with an even voice. "You need more time, I'm waiting. I do care for you, for both of you. And I don't want to make anything if you are not ready yet. What matters to me is that we're moving forward, even if it's slow."

Noah's breath slightly caught, emotion swelling up in his eyes as he continued to carry that weight for such a long time, terrified that by taking things slow, he was pushing you away, when all you wanted was to meet him where he was.

"I don't know how to do that," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I've been so scared of screwing this up, of screwing us up. But you… you've just been there."

You smiled softly and squeezed his hand. "You've been hurt, Noah. And it takes time to heal from that. I'm not here to hurry you or push you into something that you're not ready for. I am here because I care about you. And I care about Luna. I want you only to know that I'm in this for the long haul whenever you're ready."

He breathed shakily, his forehead leaning forward to rest against yours while his hand remained tightly wrapped around yours. You could feel the tension start to seep from him, replaced by a silent sort of relief that he didn't have to bear the burden of his fears alone anymore.

"Thank you." he whispered, his voice full of gratitude. "For understanding. For being… you."

You pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, silently communicating that he had nothing to thank you for, that this was where you wished to be.

You saw Noah in all his completeness: a good father, a man who had been wounded but kept trying, learning how to trust once more. You were more than ready to wait for him to fully open up that part of his heart.

You sat in that silence, the weight of the past there still, yet lighter now. You knew Noah still had a really long way to go before letting go of all the pain he had been carrying with him, but you knew he was on his way. You would be here every step of the way, to build something real, something lasting, with him and with Luna.

Now, months after you and Noah had started dating, you were sitting in the middle of that guarded space he had created around her.

Now you knew why he was being so careful, why he had not pushed for more interaction between you and Luna.

She meant the world to him, and after all she had been through, he would never risk anything that could disrupt her life. But still, you waited. You had cared for Noah, and by that extension already cared for Luna, too. So you gave him the time he needed to let you in.

Today, though, there was something different in the air, something to let you know Noah was about to take a step forward.

"Hey," Noah finally said, breaking the comfortable silence that had overcome the room. He set his coffee cup down and rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous quirk you'd come to know well. "Can I ask you a favor?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Of course. What's up?"

He turned to Luna, still deep in her toys, and back to you again. He paused a beat, you basically saw the cogs turning as he picked his words with all care.

"The band's got a thing later today, just some planning stuff for the new album. I was supposed to go meet the guys, but…" He trailed off, gesturing toward Luna with a helpless look. "Usually, I ask one of them, but they are all busy today."

You chuckled softly at that, imagining Luna in the hands of Noah’s bandmates. As much as they loved her, you knew they weren’t exactly all equipped for child care even if you were sure they all deeply cared about her.

"So… you want me to stay with her?"

Noah nodded, his expression softening as he met your gaze. "Yeah. If you're okay with it. I mean, I know it's last minute and I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important, but—"

"Noah," you interrupted softly, standing up and walking over to him. You reached out, resting your hand on his arm. "It's okay. I'd love to stay with her."

He exhaled, the relief washing over his features, but there was still that damned hesitation in his eyes. You knew how big of a deal this was for him, trusting someone with Luna, especially after everything he'd been through.

"Are you sure?" he asked more quietly now. "I mean, she's really shy, with most people and with you too, and I don't want any of you to feel uncomfortable."

You smiled, leaning up to press a kiss against his cheek. "I'll be fine. We'll be fine. She just needs time, that's all. And I think she got her shyness from her dad."

Noah closed his eyes for a second, his head slightly leaned into your touch before pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead. When he pulled back, his eyes were different, warm and a deep well of silent appreciation.

"Thank you," he whispered. "This… this means so much."

Now, you were sitting on the floor, after Noah had gone off to his band meeting. At first, Luna had been quiet, keeping to herself to play with her toys, but bit by bit, she'd started to warm up toward you, like you'd wanted.

You leaned forward for Mr. Flop, the stuffed bunny, and held him out to her with a playing grin. "You think Mr. Flop needs some tea?"

Luna's eyes sparkled, a shy smile overspreading her face as she nodded vigorously. "Yes! He is very thirsty."

You laughed softly, watching her scurry over to her tiny plastic tea set. She first poured an imaginary cup of tea for Mr. Flop and then one for you. As she handed you the pretend tea, your heart swelled with affection for this little girl who was letting you into her world slowly, piece by piece.

"Thanks, Luna," he said, making a big show of taking a sip. "This is the best tea I've ever had."

She giggled, her cheeks blushing with pride. For several moments, the two of you played in comfortable silence, with her showing you through the rules of the tea party.

"You think Mr. Flop would like to go on an adventure?" you asked after some time, breaking the silence as Luna finished pouring more imaginary tea.

With eyes aglow with excitement, she said, "Yes! He loves adventures!"

"Okay, where shall we go?" you asked, leaning in conspiratorially.

Luna tapped her chin, and then a huge grin spread over her face. "The jungle! I love jungle! Dad loves jungle too! We have to find the lost treasure!"

You gasped melodramatically. "The jungle? Wait. Noah made you listen...nevermind. That does sound dangerous! You think we can make it?"

She laughed again, her head bobbing up and down quickly. "We can do it! Mr. Flop is very brave."

And then you both launched into your make-believe jungle adventure. The shyness had left Luna by now, replaced by a bubbly, fearless energy that took your heart soaring.

The front door creaked open a couple of hours later when Noah returned home, but you didn't notice him first, too caught up in the game with Luna sitting next to you on the floor.

Noah stood in the doorway, watching the both of you, and his heart swelled in his chest. He had always known you were special, knew from the moment he met you that there was something different about you, but seeing you now, playing with Luna, made him feel something he hadn't felt in years.

Love, not just for you, but for the idea of you becoming a part of him and Luna's lives in a deeper way.

When you finally saw him standing there, you smiled. "Hey, you're back!" you said. Noah nodded, stepping closer, his eyes soft. "Yeah, I'm back."

Luna ran to him and wrapped her arms around his legs as he scooped her up, holding her close to his chest for a moment before turning back to you. "You two seemed to have fun."

Noah had Luna in his arms, babbly excitedly about some "jungle adventure" and lost treasure. He listened intently, though his eyes never left you. There was something there in his gaze, something so raw and deep, that made your heart go racing. It wasn't the usual softness, the usual affection, it was heavier, like something nestled between you when nothing was said.

"We did," you said, smiling at Luna as she continued her excited recount of the day. "We found the lost treasure, and Mr. Flop was the hero of the day."

Luna giggled, snuggling into Noah's chest as she added her own details. "We were very brave, Daddy! Mr. Flop was so good at being quiet, and we didn't get eaten!"

Noah chuckled, brushing a hand through her hair as he kissed her forehead. "Sounds like you had quite the adventure."

"Yes! We had a lot of fun. And your friend is amazing. I want to play with her again. I think she is my friend too now."

Noah smiled, his brown eyes full of affection for the both of you. "I'm glad you made a new friend. We'll ask her again, okay?"

Luna nodded, her eyelids drooping as the excitement of the day finally started to catch up with her and she rested her head against the soft fabric of his dad's hoodie. Noah glanced at you over her head, a soft smile tugging at his lips once again.

"Would you like to help me get her ready for bed?" he whispered, and with Luna nuzzling her head into the crook of his shoulder, half-asleep.

You nodded, and your heart fluttered with the thought. This felt like some sort of minor but meaningful step in being included in the nighttime routine, part of something as personal and intimate as this.

All three went into Luna's room together. It was not a big room, but it was cozy with soft toys, bookshelves, and a little carpet that glittered from strings of tiny fairy lights.

Noah was soon to gently lay Luna down into her bed, and you sat down beside him, watching as he tucked her in, his hands moving with the sort of practiced ease that came from more than two years of being a single parent. You leaned over, setting Mr. Flop down beside Luna, who smiled sleepily as she cuddled the bunny close.

Noah leaned over her, placing a gentle kiss against her forehead with tenderness that would ache your chest. "Goodnight, sweetheart," he whispered into her hair. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

"Goodnight, daddy," she muttered the tone in her voice drowsy. Then her tiny eyes flickered open just enough to glance at you. "Goodnight Y/N."

You smiled warmly, your heart swelling in the simplest of words. "Goodnight, Luna."

After several minutes of quiet whispers and soothing reassurances, she fell asleep, her breathing evening into the quiet rhythm of her sleep. Noah leaned forward and pressed another soft kiss to her forehead before he eased himself up, motioning you to follow him from the room.

As the door is shut quietly behind you, he let out a very, very long breath, running his hand through his hair, leaning against the wall.

"Thanks," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "For sticking with her. For being so… incredible with her."

You shrugged. "She's a pretty amazing kid. It wasn't hard."

Noah turned fully toward you now, his eyes searching yours with a sort of intensity that hitched your breath. His hand rose and delicately swept a strand of hair back behind your ear, where it lingered on the side of your face. His thumb tracing the line of your jaw sent you leaning into his touch, your heart beating with each passed second a little faster.

"I never knew whether I would find anybody that could fit in this part of my life," he whispered, his voice not a decibel over a whisper. "With Luna, after what happened… I felt I needed to keep her world small, you know? Keep it safe. I didn't want to bring someone in that might hurt her."

His eyes welled with that same vulnerability you had seen before, and you knew how hard this was for him, to open up, to let you into this part of his life he had guarded so much.

"You don't have to worry about that," you said softly, laying your hand over his. "I would never hurt her. Or you."

Noe's thumb stroked over your cheek, his eyes sealing to yours in an tight seriousness, as if you were the only person existing. "I know. That's why I love you."

The words hung between you and him, heavy with tension. You couldn't breathe for a second, heart pounding in your chest as you tried processing what he just said. He loved you.

You hadn't expected it, not so soon, not in that moment, but the way he looked at you, the way he had been with Luna, it made sense. It wasn't just the two of them anymore; it was all three, the small family that had formed.

A soft smile overspreads your face as you looked up at him, your hand clenching a little tighter around his. "I love you too, Noah."

The relief in his expression was genuine, and for him at least, it was as though the weight had finally been pulled off his shoulders. He pulled you into his arms, and you wrapped yours around him, holding close as he buried his face in your hair, breathing you in like he couldn’t believe you were real.

And for a long time, neither of them said anything. They only stood there with each other, wrapped in their own warmth, and the silence just told it all.

Then Noah leaned back, just a little, just enough to look down at you. And then his eyes were deeper and surer.

"I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't met you," he whispered huskily. "I don't think I even knew how much I needed someone like you, not just for me but for Luna, too."

You reached up and brushed a thumb over his cheek. "You're an amazing dad, Noah. You've done everything right for her. But you don't have to do it alone anymore."

He closed his eyes, like almost to let your words sink in. Opening them a second later, there was something soft, something vulnerable, that made you want to pull him closer still.

"I don't want to do it alone anymore," he whispered with his forehead against yours. "I want this. Us. You and me, and Luna. I want a family."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you nodded, your voice barely louder than a whisper. "Me too."

Noah's arms tugged closer, his lips finding yours in a gentle unhurried kiss that felt almost like a vow, like a start, the type of kiss that spoke of love, of trust, of a future that finally was starting to feel real.

He drew back and his eyes shone bright now with a happiness in them that hadn't been there before. He reached down, took your hand in his, and guided you back onto the couch. You sat together in the quiet glow of the livingroom.

You knew you would have one of those movie nights where you definitely fall asleep in his arms on the couch.

Noah for once in a long while felt something he hadn't dared to believe in, peace. Peace in knowing that he didn't have to protect himself and Luna anymore. Peace in knowing he was finally able to let you in, fully without any fear.

You sat there, his arm around you, knowing this was only the beginning of something beautiful: a life no more his or yours, but one which both of you had started building together.

hello friends in my phone! would you like more parts of this? (｡◕‿◕｡)

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @mathfairchild1 @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lma1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

TBAF Tags: @aubrey-melinoe

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Back home

Hey guyss, I wanted to write a story for Charles to celebrate his victory in Monza. I know this part is very reader x Arthur but let me know what you think and if you want more parts :)

You’ve known the Leclercs all your life. It’s hard not to when you’re their neighbour. With you and Arthur being the same age and going to the same class, you naturally became best friends, spending every moment together. From school to afternoons playing at each other's houses to accompanying his family to the track for their races, your lives were intertwined.

You grew up with them. You were there when Arthur won his first race, when Charles got into Formula 1, when you graduated high school. Your life has always been surrounded by the Leclercs, so it was almost inevitable that you’d fall for one of them—Charles.

It was evident to everyone. Even Arthur noticed, and he didn’t like it at all. He made you promise you would never date his brother. After all, how could he stand that when he was in love with you, even if you had no idea?

Your crush on Charles was just that—a crush, an infatuation, a dream. He was older than you and often had a different girl on his arm. You didn’t stand a chance, or so you thought.

Aside from your love dilemmas, everything seemed to be going okay, until one day, your father received a job offer that involved moving to Spain. Your life changed drastically from one day to the next. You spent your last night in Monaco with Arthur, savouring your final hours together before your departure.

The moon hung low over Monaco, casting a soft glow on the city. You and Arthur sat on the steps of the Leclercs' home, the cool night air surrounding you. It was quiet, the kind of silence that carries a weight of unspoken words.

"I can't believe you're leaving," Arthur said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I can't either," you replied, looking down at your hands. "It all happened so fast. One moment, everything was normal, and the next, we're packing up our lives."

Arthur nodded, staring off into the distance. "It's not going to be the same without you here."

You felt a lump in your throat. "I'm going to miss you so much, Arthur. We've done everything together since we were kids. I don't know what I'm going to do without you."

He turned to look at you, his eyes soft but filled with something you couldn’t quite place. "You'll do great things. You always do. Spain…it's just a new adventure for you."

"But I don't want to go," you blurted out, the tears you had been holding back starting to spill over. "I want to stay here, with you, with everyone. I don’t want to leave my life behind."

Arthur reached out, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb. The touch was tender, lingering longer than usual. "Hey, don’t cry. We’ll still be friends, no matter where you are. You know that, right?"

You nodded, sniffling. "I know, but it's not the same."

He hesitated for a moment, as if battling with himself. "I just…I want you to know that…you mean a lot to me. More than you probably realize."

You gave a small, shaky laugh. "You mean a lot to me too, Arthur. You're my best friend."

He looked like he wanted to say something more, his mouth opening slightly before he closed it again, shaking his head. "Yeah…best friends."

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Arthur gazed at you, his eyes searching yours, and you thought you saw something flicker there—a brief, intense flash of emotion that was gone as quickly as it appeared. Before you could decipher it, he pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly against him.

"I'll always be here for you, no matter what," he murmured into your hair.

You nodded against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "And I'll always be here for you."

You stayed like that for a while, neither of you wanting to let go, until the sky began to lighten with the first signs of dawn. With a heavy heart, you pulled back, knowing it was time to go.

"Goodbye, Arthur," you whispered.

"Goodbye," he replied, his voice barely audible.

As you walked away, you missed the way he watched you, the way his hand reached out, almost as if he wanted to call you back, to tell you everything he’d been holding inside. But he didn’t. He let you go.

Years had passed since that night. You had spent the last four years in Spain, earning your degree and living a different life. But now, you were back in Monaco, ready to start your master's degree.

The airport buzzed with activity, a mix of tourists and locals rushing to their destinations. You walked through the arrival gate, scanning the crowd for a familiar face.

And there he was.

Arthur stood near the entrance, leaning against a pillar with his hands in his pockets, a smile spreading across his face as he spotted you. His hair was a bit longer, and he looked more mature, but his eyes still held that same warmth you remembered.

"Welcome back," he said, pulling you into a hug as you reached him.

"It's so good to see you!" you exclaimed, squeezing him tightly. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," he replied, his voice softer. He pulled back, looking you over. "Spain's been good to you. You look great."

"Thanks," you said, blushing slightly. "You look good too, Arthur. Really good."

He laughed, running a hand through his hair. "Thanks. It's been…different without you here."

You smiled, linking your arm through his as you started walking towards the exit. "Well, I'm back now. We have a lot of catching up to do."

As you talked, Arthur felt his heart swell with every word you said, every smile you gave. Seeing you again brought back all those feelings he’d tried so hard to bury. But he knew better than to show it. You still saw him as your best friend, nothing more. And after all this time, he didn’t want to risk ruining what you had.

"Yeah, we do," he agreed, keeping his voice light. "So, where to first? Home or food?"

You laughed. "Definitely food. I’m starving!"

Arthur chuckled, guiding you towards his car. "Food it is, then. I've got just the place in mind."

As he drove, he stole glances at you, soaking in every detail, every expression. He had never stopped loving you, even after all these years. But for now, he was content just having you back in his life, even if it was just as friends.

Because being near you, hearing your laugh, seeing your smile—that was enough. At least, for now.

Part 2

[kunapookiebear]

satoru gojo x fem!reader

"when can i cum inside you?" satoru asked and you gave him a side eyed look, "i mean, you always tell me to get you pregnant yet you always ask me if i came inside with that panicked look."

"well, i'm not on the pill and we don't like condoms."

satoru held you closer in bed. after finishing one of your morning quickies both of you liked to do some bed talk. you would take deep breaths of his body smell and he would kiss your messy after sex hair.

"you told me that when we live together you will get that t thing?"

"yeah, you know i procrastinate quite a lot." you slowly get up and let him see your naked frame, "come and shower with me."

you entered the big shower first and he came in with you just a few moments later. he massaged your body with devotion as you enjoyed his touch.

"i'm fine having a baby right now. i know we have talked a lot about having our family, but i haven't really asked you if you want to be a dad right now."

you stopped feeling his hands through your body and turned around to see him on his knees, looking at you with those dreamy blue eyes.

"marry me please, baby, please, please, please." satoru pouted and you giggled.

"get up, take me on a nice dinner and buy me a nice ring, i'll say yes." you got on your tippy toes in order to reach him and kiss him, he still had to lower himself.

after finishing with your master studies you spend your afternoon in the mall, you bought some nice clothes with the extension of satoru's credit card. you had been thinking about the bed talk you had with your loved one and actually started to get emotional over that.

you made some light dinner for satoru and spent some time studying until he arrived. you got up to kiss him and serve him the food. both of you shared a conversation while he ate.

after your shared night routine, you get inside the bed first and wait for satoru to come to you.

"you know, tomorrow is saturday, we can sleep in..." quickly satoru took off his clothes and crawled to bed as you laughed.

he kissed you slowly, just as you liked it. he touched your body as you let out soft moans against his lips. satoru took out the shirt you used to sleep and began kissing your neck, your clavicle and breasts. as he went down he discovered the new pair of panties you had bought, cute baby pink lacy with a wet center due to his touch.

"i love your body, i love your voice, i love you." he whispered as he took off the piece of clothes. you reach for him, feeling so needy of a kiss and he let you take control.

you managed to get on top of him. his dick out and ready for some action, your hips grinding on top of him, leaving a mess of fluids on his abdomen.

"i forbid you to die." you declared as you kissed his neck just the way he liked it. slow, wet and hot. "you can't die. i don't care if you're the strongest, if you get killed i swear i will revive you and kill you myself and then revive you again and spent the rest of our lives together."

he looked at you with the sweetest expression on this eyes that almost appeared to melt. satoru caressed your cheeks as he pulled you to kiss your lips.

"i won't die, baby. i'll keep bothering you until we are old and smell funny." satoru kissed you once again, assuring you that all would be okay.

you put his dick inside you, feeling something so familiar but so delicious. you jumped on his cock, feeling all of his longitude inside your gummy walls. he squished your ass cheeks and enjoyed the way your boobs moved.

"baby, i'm so close ahh," he moaned with closed eyes as he helped you with your moves.

"satoru, you can cum inside."

it was as if some button had been pressed. in a quick movement satoru got on top and began penetrating you with an awfully rough and delightful pace. he knew how you liked it, and god he was so horny.

"want me to get you pregnant?"

"yes, please, toruuu~" you moaned with closed eyes. "oh, god, ahh."

gutural sounds coming out of satoru as he released his sperm inside you. you moved just a bit to reach for your own orgasm. your walls milking him dry as he kissed your lips.

"i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you..." he said like a broken record, only stopping after he had fallen asleep while clinging into you, who were asleep even faster than him.

[uzurakis]

childhood friend! reader who's somehow getting closer with itadori due to them being both bubbly and chatty; this obviously doesn't go unnoticed by megumi.

he can feel the resentment gradually building up within him, but how could he ever dislike itadori? sure, the pink-haired boy tends to steal the attention of his childhood friend (that megumi may or may not secretly harbor feelings for) but hey, could he blame reader for being drawn towards such a passionate and humorous guy?

(winks) i'm leaving you to decide which direction this scenario should go hehe

n. i can promise you that i understand very well which direction to write this, nonnie (winks aggressively). hope this serves justice for your req <3

fushiguro megumi had always been reserved.

a man who preferred the company of his thoughts to the noise of the world. he had grown accustomed to solitude, finding solace in the quiet corners of his mind where he could retreat from the chaos of the outside world.

but then you came along, a beam of light in his otherwise bleak life. you were his childhood friend, the only one who had managed to break the walls he had put around the core of his being. and as he saw you grow closer to itadori yuuji, a friend of both of you, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping into his soul.

as you walked into the bustling classroom, your eyes immediately found their way to itadori’s infectious smile. he was chatting animatedly with you, his laughter filling the room like a burst of sunshine. you’ve been drawn to his magnetic personality, his energy infectious and his jokes never failing to bring a smile to your face.

fushiguro megumi, your childhood friend, stood off to the side, expression unreadable as he observed the interaction between you and itadori. there was a tightness in his chest, a pang of jealousy that he couldn't quite shake off. he had always been reserved, quiet, but seeing you gravitate towards someone else, someone so different from him, it stirred up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within him.

you realized that as the days went by, you were spending an increasing amount of time with itadori because of his carefree nature and enthusiasm for life. you found yourself having fewer and fewer talks with megumi; his presence receding as itadori's charm dominated your days.

however, megumi always had a bad taste in his mouth whenever he saw you laughing with itadori. he was unable to ignore the bitterness that was boiling under the surface and the sense that someone so affectionately pleasant had taken his place. on the other hand, how could he blame you? how could he hold it against you for being drawn to someone who lit up the room with his mere presence?

one day, while you sat with itadori during lunch, megumi couldn't help but overhear snippets of your conversation. his heart clenched painfully as he heard you laugh, your voice mingling with itadori's in a way that felt like a stab to his chest. he turned away, the turmoil within him threatening to consume him whole.

later that afternoon, the man found himself alone with you for the first time in what felt like ages. the air between you was heavy with unspoken tension, a distance that seemed to grow with each passing moment.

"hey, megs," you started, breaking the silence with a hesitant smile. "i feel like we haven't talked in forever. you okay?"

his throat tightened at the concern in your voice, the guilt gnawing at him as he struggled to find the right words. "i'm fine," he muttered, his gaze flinching away from yours.

you weren't persuaded, though. "are you sure?" you pressed, your eyes searching his for any signs.

megumi swallowed hard, his chest tightening with a mixture of longing and frustration. "i just.. i miss us, you know?”

“i miss how things used to be."

your expression softened, a pang of guilt tugging at your heartstrings. "i miss that too, megumi," you admitted, reaching out to gently grasp his hand. "but things change. people change. it doesn't mean we can't still be friends, right?”

friends, he heard it right.

his heart ached at your words, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. “yeah, friends..” you were slipping away, drifting further and further out of reach, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

just when the heaviness of the stillness weighed heavily on you and megumi, there came a voice from across the hallway.

"hey, [name]! come check this out!"

itadori's cheerful voice pierced through the tension, and you turned towards him with a bright smile, leaving megumi standing alone in the echoing hallway. “yuuji’s calling me. later!”

megumi watched as you pulled your hand away and hurried off to join itadori, his heart sinking as the distance between you grew wider with each step you took. already on a first-name basis? it took megumi and you some years to get used to addressing each other by your first names, but just a couple months with itadori?

thus, it was in that moment, with the sound of your laughter fading into the distance, that he realized just how much he had lost.

a sense of resignation settled over him, the bitterness in his heart mingling with a profound sadness. he had always known that he could never compete with someone like itadori, someone who effortlessly captured the attention and affection of those around him.

as he stood there, alone in the empty corridor, megumi couldn't help but wonder if this was the beginning of the end. if perhaps, despite his silent protests and unspoken desires, he had already lost you for good.

because fushiguro megumi had always been reserved.

and there’s nothing he could do about it.

@uzurakis — rqs are open <3

[stolenviolet]

ok ok i just stumbled upon your baby death au (and im feeling things idk what)... and just wanted to ask, what is voldy's relationship with harry here? not sure if i made sense but eh im curiousss-

You made perfect sense!

(And I hope they're good feelings? Maybe?)

As for their 'relationship' in this AU (my version anyway) well… let's just say it's complicated haha

To start, they basically just co-parent Death.

Obviously, they can't stand each other in the beginning. Being, y'know, enemies and what not, on top of navigating peace talks and treaties to end a war, isn't exactly a recipe for romance.

So yeah, nope! No butterflies in the stomach for these two (yet).

However, raising a kid together kind of forces them to adapt to one another, and that's when they start to notice the little things.

Harry notices Voldemort takes his tea straight in the mornings but prefers it a little on the sweeter side in the afternoon.

Voldemort notices Harry's love of flying and that he tends to get a bit antsy if he hasn't touched a broom in a while.

Harry notices Voldemort, while great at most things (his words not Harry's), is actually a pretty terrible cook.

Voldemort notices that Harry can only really sleep with the doors open or if there's another person in the room.(trauma from being locked alone in a cupboard, I'm sure.)

Both notice how, despite not having the best childhoods themselves, they ultimately want what's best for their son and tend to compromise on most things where he's concerned. (though this was incredibly difficult for Voldemort in particular to grasp. especially early on.)

Then came the lingering glances. The slight brushing of fingers when handing over a book. The casual teasing that leaves them both feeling bit warm.

Needless to say, eleven years of being domestic with someone, some type of affection was bound to take root and sprout. Not all at once, mind you. Voldemort is still, well…Voldemort, so there was quite a bit of emotional baggage to unpack (y'know the whole 'I killed your parents and tried to kill you' thing).

So it's not until their son leaves for his first year at Hogwarts, and they're truly left alone together for an extended period of time, that they both realize 'whoopsie! there might be more going on here than we thought!'.

Because now there's no lingering excuse of 'Well, clearly, we're only speaking/spending time with each other because Thomas is here'.

No. Now they both have to face the fact that something has been building between them.

And from there, things get a little, shall we say…romantic~

(kids out of the house, time for the parents to have some fun *wink*)

Long story short: Slow Burn, Enemies to...Co-parents? to Lovers.

[m0nsterqzzz]

Happy Wife Happy Life

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pairing: Clarisse La Rue x fem!reader

summary: being Clarisse's "wife" will always have it's perks

a/n: honestly don't know how to feel about this but I'm tired. anyway, kinda hate the ending. and my writing lol.

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Love is the greatest thing.

At least, in your eyes it is.

It can bring the strongest people to their knees, risking their lives or others lives just so that they can keep their person happy. It's always been amazing to you.

Not so much in your best friend Clarisse's. She'd much rather have the glory of being the strongest kid in school, or be feared by your classmates. "Love is stupid." She always tells you while she watches you study under the willow tree she likes climbing.

"No, it's not. It's powerful. You like powerful things don't you?" You'd say back with an airy laugh, then forcing her to come back down from the branches so you can help her with her math homework.

She's heard lots about the emotion called jealousy, but she'd never truly felt it until she saw Holly Bracken kiss your cheek during recess one day. The tightening of the chest, the way her throat went dry and she clenched her fist by her side from the other end of the black top and tried to stop herself from throwing the basketball in her hands towards the blonde girl's head. It wasn't a feeling Clarisse liked, and the feeling only went away when you were laying in her arms under the tree after school that day.

That warm afternoon, she'd asked you to marry her with a paper ring, one that you cherished for a whole week until it got caught in something and broke. You'd obviously said yes, the fact that you had a huge crush on her not exactly helping as you forced yourself to remember she was obviously kidding. Sealing the marriage with I do and then placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand like she'd seen done in the romantic movies her mother likes watching, you were officially hers. As long as you were her wife, Holly Bracken could no longer kiss your cheek with that ugly smug smile.

She went on to make sure of that, introducing you as her wife to anyone and everyone that was willingly to listen. You two were young, and nobody took it quite seriously until she saved up almost a full year's allowance money to buy you a nice looking- but still cheap- promise ring from the jewelry store downtown. It was a silent promise, one that she eventually voiced as you were sleeping over at her house.

"I'll be with you forever." She'd whispered in your ear, and you foolishly believed her.

She was gone three weeks later.

You didn't get a phone call, an email, or even a letter. She just....disappeared.

Her family stopped answering the door for you, seemingly purposefully avoiding you in town. It was months before you finally gave up, and it was obvious to anyone that looked hard enough you were slowly becoming a shell of yourself without her. Without your girl.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

The only thing in your life that is weirder than Clarisse's mysterious disappearance, was the fact that a boy just told you you're a child of one of the Greek gods. You couldn't believe him. You'd learned about the gods in school, but there was no fudging way they were real. You'd only finally agreed to go to some place called Camp Half Blood when he rolled up one of his pant legs to reveal furry goat legs. Nothing will ever be weirder than that.

Just in time too, because right after you left the school building and started sprinting towards the forest across from the place, some giant winged creature that no one else seemed to see crashed through a window and started flying towards you.

Your protector, someone you learned is a satyr named Joey, lead you to camp with minimal death, which you learned is very rare when it comes to leading a demi-god to camp. It didn't help with the newly installed fear inside you, but you just simply nodded along with what he was saying as your eyes scanned the crowds of campers that are doing their own thing below the hill you stand on.

The moment you step past what Joey calls Thalia's tree, all eyes are on you. A new camper means special events so they feel welcome which means more fun for the campers and the drama of figuring out who their godly parent is. 

You don’t have any belongings other than the clothes on your skin and the school pencil that’s brought you a strange sense of comfort on your long trip. A female camper with blonde hair and gray eyes comes up and introduces herself as Annabeth, helping you to the “Hermes” cabin to give you a camp t-shirt and new pants. She explains all the new campers go there, at least until they get claimed, which means the kids in there are either children of Hermes, unclaimed, or new just like you. 

Since everyone is gone doing daily activities, you decide to just change in the cabin. It’s peaceful, the sound of campers laughter, birds in the trees.

Your blissful silence is broken when someone tightly wraps their arms around you from behind you and lifts you up in the air with a squeal, your hands flying to cover your bra-covered chest. “What the hell?!” You scream, but the profanities you were going to yell out die down in your throat when the person sets you down and you turn around to see Clarisse.

She doesn’t look much different, her hair a little bit grown out and her band t-shirts and jeans have been replaced by camouflage pants and an orange camp half blood shirt similar to the one you’re trying to put on. You’re so starstruck that you just stare, her arms still loosely wrapped around your waist as you stand there in only a bra and jeans. “Clar?” She nods, grinning brightly as she pulls you into yet another hug.

You’re much more aware this time, pushing her away harshly as you hurry to put on the shirt and then leave the cabin with a quick roll of your eyes. The curly haired girl is hot on your tail, attempting to grab your wrist to stop you before you pull it away as if she’s burned you. Her face is full of hurt, but your voice shows the same amount as you ask, “Why didn’t….why didn’t you call? Or email? Or-or send me a fucking letter? Just to let me know you were okay? That you came here.”

She sighs, eyes full of regret as they fall to look at her doc martens so she doesn’t have to see your sadness. “I couldn’t call you because a phone call is like sending a message out to any monsters that could be listening and find out where we are. Email, I don’t have any electronics cuz of the whole call thing.”

“And letter? I bet monsters don’t know how to read Clar.” The girl is silent for a minute, and as the silence continues is when you realize she doesn’t have an answer for you. You scoff, beginning to walk to who knows where again before she runs to catch up with you.

“I’m sorry, okay? I was scared. Gods, I was scared.” The worlds tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them, and the campers around you fall silent as they stare with mouths agape in shock.

“Scared? What’s there to be scared of? It’s just me.” She nods, wordlessly reaching out to hold your hand. You let her this time and she feels relief flood through her. “Scared. I was scared….scared that you would hate me for leaving. I mean, what kind of woman leaves her wife?” She attempts a small laugh, and she takes it as a win that the corners of your mouth twitch upwards in the start of a smile. “I promised you forever and then left without another word. You had been looking at me through rose colored glasses our entire lives, I was scared those glasses were shattered. It’s not an excuse though. I should’ve sent you a letter, told you I was okay and told you how much I missed you.”

A small smile works its way onto your face, but she can still see the sadness in your eyes and she hates it. She hates it when you're sad. “Come here angel.” The girl hesitantly pulls you into her arms, almost crying when you relax into her hold and hug her back before she remembers where you guys are and how many campers are staring in shock at how sweet she’s acting.

“You have to understand that I’m still mad Clar. Even if you were scared, I spent years living in fear you were dead.” You mumble against her shoulder as you grip onto her like she’s going to disappear again if you let go.

The girl nods in agreement, cradling your head to her chest as she glares at the campers in an attempt to get them to leave you two alone. They do it.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Clarisse brings you to her cabin, cuddling with you in her bed as she tells you anything and everything that has happened over the past. She’s a child of Ares, and you spend several minutes that it makes sense after the amount of times she threatened other kids by saying she should hang them from the top of the flagpole. 

By dinner time, it’s like no time has passed, and everyone’s eyes are on you as you two walk in with her arm casually placed on your around the back of your waist as she leads you to her table where her siblings are trying not to make fun of her. After a lot of begging and threats, Chiron agreed to let you sit at the Ares table for your first week at camp. “Hey guys.” Her happy tone is a rare one around her by the look on their faces, the smile even rarer as she sits you down next to her spot on the bench. “This is my wife.”

The whole room goes silent, all eyes trained on you as your eyes dart up to stare at her. “What are you-” She cuts you off with amusement dancing in her brown eyes.

“What do you want to eat, honey?” Clarisse asks you, and a son of Ares you know as Mark scoffs before he says, “The last time I asked you to get me food, you poured your drink in my lap and told me it wasn’t your job.”

The smile falls from your friend's face as she glares at him. “That’s because it isn’t my job.”

“Then why are you getting her food?” 

“Because a happy wife equals a happy life alright? Now shut the fuck up.”

The smile is back as she turns to face you again, taking your order before she leaves to get that and her own food. 

The rest of the campers go back to their meals, though they’re clearly gossiping about Clarisse’s supposed wife as they eat. It doesn’t make you feel very happy, but all the doubt is gone as your girl comes back and sits down next to you, setting the food down before her hand falls to hold your hand under the table the way she used to during lunch at school.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

A little bit later, you finish eating and join in the group of campers leaving the dining hall towards the campfire with Clarisse walking beside you. “My legs hurt.” You mumble while leaning closer to her. She doesn’t miss a beat as she picks you up bridal style, casually carrying you to the bonfire like you weigh absolutely nothing. Smiling at the sound of your laughter, she sets you down on one of the logs surrounding the fire. “What was that for? I could’ve walked.” You say as she sits down next to you before pulling you into her lap.

“What kind of wife would I be if I let you walk around while in pain?” She grins before leaning her head on your shoulder. She seems happy, and you recently learned she hasn’t felt that way in a very long time so you simply smile before leaving a kiss on her forehead. Her fingers lace with yours, her thumb caressing the back of your hand as she talks to her brother. It’s like no time has passed. Although you’re still upset, it’s nice to have her again.

Clarisse makes you guys some smores, a few people coming up every once and a while to introduce themselves and your friend introduces you the same way every time; “This is my wife.” By the time you’re making your way to the Hermes cabin with her walking by your side like a bodyguard, everyone in camp is aware of the “marriage”.

“I wish you could come stay in the Ares cabin.” She mumbles into the crook of your neck on the porch of Hermes cabin, and you chuckle while rubbing circles on her back. “I think you annoyed Chiron enough for one day.”

The daughter of Ares sighs, reluctantly nodding as she gives you a gentle squeeze before walking away. You watch her walk to her cabin for a few seconds, a permanent smile on your face before you walk inside your crowded cabin.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

The next morning, it’s time for you to join in the routine of chores and training. It seems tiring, but Clarisse is by your side to help you with anything and everything so it’s okay.

“You’re getting better, hon.” She repeats for the 100th time in an hour, and your trust in her words is slowly fading as you sling the sword in your hands awkwardly towards the dummy covered in greek armor in front of you. The girl seems to notice your mood dropping, so she sighs and then stands up and walks towards you. You think she’s going to tell you to take the armor off just stop trying, but you shouldn't have. Clarisse was never one to tell you to give up on something. Instead, she places her hands on your hips, brown eyes straying from your face as she gently moves your body until you're standing in the correct way. You feel like clay under her grip, simply allowing her to position you as your face scans her features. 

It’s like something pulling you to lean in, and it’s only when you're inches away from her face do you realize she is leaning in too. As if realizing where you are and what you guys are doing, she clears her throat and backs away, her hands following to rest at her sides. “There. Try again.” She begins to awkwardly walk away, her confidence gone as she almost trips over some armor left on the floor by another camper.

You nervously laugh, taking a deep breath before you slash the sword forward again. The sword feels much more natural in your hand, and it’s almost like an instinct as you angle it so it hits the unprotected parts so it cuts open the material. 

Your friend cheers, rushing over to you and easily lifting you off the ground like you just won the olympics. Clarisse has always been that way, proud of every thing  you could ever do. With a small laugh, you thank her and finally get her to set you down. “Well done wifey.” The words flow out of Clarisse’s mouth like they’re the most natural thing, and you fake an annoyed sigh.

“You know I’m not your wife right?” You say with a laugh, but she clearly doesn’t find it very funny.

“Then what's this?” Her hand moves to grab your hand, holding it up in front of your face and you try to ignore the way butterflies explode in your stomach from the touch as her eyes lock on yours. With rose colored cheeks- you decide to blame it on the heat and not the feeling of her hand in yours- you finally take notice of what she’s talking about; the ring she bought you when you were kids, snuggly placed on your left hand ring finger. It was a bit too big when you guys were younger, but it fits basically perfectly now.

“It’s a promise ring.” You mumble, walking away to take off the armor and put away the sword. “It’s the closest thing to a wedding ring I could get. And besides, red is my favorite color, the jem is red. It’s basically me, in a ring.” “I didn’t understand a single thing you just said.”

Clarisse sighs, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind the same way she did your first day at camp- though this time she doesn’t lift you up. “Sorry. Let me summarize. You’re my wife, and that is your ring.” You chuckle, turning around in her arms and trying not to think about the way you’re so close you can feel her warm breath on your face. “Fine. I’m your wife.” She takes the win, leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek before she makes her way out of the training grounds to go wash up for lunch.

This girl is gonna be the death of you.

 -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

That night, Clarisse sneaks into the Hermes cabin. She’s used to sneaking out, but she’s never had a reason to sneak into this specific cabin and she almost bursts out laughing when she gets through the window and almost steps on a kid laying on a sleeping bag on the floor. 

She easily manages her way through the sleeping kids to get to your bunk in the corner, cringing every once and a while when floor boards creek. You’re awake, staring at the wall and you reach under your pillow to grab a dagger Annabeth gave you when someone puts a hand on your shoulder and tries to shake you away so you can hold it up against their neck.

“Why the hell do you have a knife to my throat?” Clarisse quietly squeaks out, and you sigh in relief before putting the weapon back under your pillow for safe keeping. “I just…I’m sorry.” You think about telling her about the nightmare you were having not even ten minutes ago, but it looks like she’s already aware of it as she sends you knowing eyes.

“You can make it up to me by following me.” One look into her pleading eyes is all you need to reluctantly agree, and she helps you out of the window and then onto her back so she can carry you to the surprise she set up in the forest.

The sight makes you want to grin and cry at the same time; it’s a picnic set on the cliff overlooking the waterfall you told her was your favorite part of camp, all your favorite foods from the outside world placed accordingly on the blanket. There are little lanterns placed all over, lighting up this specific part of the woods. You can clearly see the stars, one of your favorite things, and the cozy feeling of the date-like setting goes against the summer breeze of the night.

“So? What do you think?” Clarisse nervously asks as you look around in awe. “I….I love it Clar.” You reply, pulling her into a tight hug. “How’d you get all these foods?” You quest with a grin. She innocently shrugs, but she’s got a mischievous look in her eyes that only appears when she does something bad. She won’t tell you that she snuck out of camp the same way she snuck out of her cabin to go to the mortal world, sneaking back in a throwing herself into a bush when Mr. D almost caught her.

She sits down on the blanket, patting the spot next to her and then pulling you into her lap when you sit down. “This is so nice….but why?” “Why?” “Why’d you do it?”

Clarisse chuckles; “Because my wife deserves best.” There it is again, the phrase that brings a blush to your face no matter how many times you hear it. “Well, thank you.” She nods, grabbing a chocolate covered strawberry and taking a hesitant bite before humming in satisfaction. “That’s really good.”

You two spend the rest of the night talking and giggling as you cuddle up to her and eat the delicious foods, and by the end of the night you’re lying with your head in her lap as she runs her fingers through your hair. “One day,” She starts, leaning down to kiss your forehead before she continues speaking; “I’m gonna marry you for real.”

With a small laugh, you nod, staring into her brown eyes as you sigh. “I’m okay with that.” You whisper, and for a second it seems like she’s leaning down again. It’s proven she is when her lips connect with yours. Her lips are slightly chapped since she always forgets to put on chapstick before she leaves the cabin, but that doesn’t matter as she’s kissing you like she’s been starved for years. Technically, she has been.

She pulls away, watching with a nervous smile as you attempt to catch your breath and stare up at her in awe. “Was that-was that okay?” You slowly nod, sitting up and then turning to face her before you grab her face in your hands and kiss her once again. She seems surprised, but she quickly adapts as her hands move to your hips and firmly grip them.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the day you agreed to be my wife.” She whispers as she pulls away and leans her forehead on your own. You giggle, giving her a quick kiss in between love sick giggles. “Me too.”

She begins to talk again, but the sound of hooves galloping near and a loud voice calling out, “Who's there?!” makes her panic. Chiron. You panic as well, and you both messily pick up the empty plates and blanket, shoving it all in the basket and taking your hand in the one that isn't holding the basket.

The galloping is getting closer, and you both begin to run back into the forest- on the way back to camp but still in the opposite direction of Chiron.

You both begin to laugh as you almost trip over a branch, and you have to bite your lip and hold a hand over Clarrise's mouth so Chiron won't hear. 

You eventually make it back to the cabins, and you both slow down to a light jog as you near the Hermes cabin. She brings you back to the still open window, and helps lift you up into the slightly cold room. You take off your shoes, and are about to wish her a goodnight and go to bed when you turn around to see her lips playfully puckered. 

You chuckle, walking back to the window and giving her a small peck on the lips. “Goodnight Clar. and thank you for a wonderful night.” She smiles. “It was only wonderful because you were there. Goodnight angel.” With that, she leaves towards her own cabin, and you're left staring at her leave with a love sick smile and look in your eyes.

At the edge of the forest, Chiron watches the sweet goodnight with a small smile. “Well I'll be damned….Clarisse La Rue is a softy.” He begins walking to his own cabin with a content sigh. “But they better not sneak out again.”

□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□

[binniesbooks]

hi my fayebae~ since u said u loved the car clip of soobin, here’s one for u to write ur heart away!! (U can of course choose whether u wanna do it or not no pressure!! Im just sending since its at the top of my mind rn, ahh n im sorry for so many request i usually dont send anyt in but🥹i didnt think it would be this fun to see my request coming to life uk but i digress)

idk whether u would like this but:

bf!soobin x gf!brat!reader

they got into an argument and stuff but soobin who still loves his gf comes n picks her up after (cheerleading?prac of some sorts)

Otw home… reader gives the cold shoulder to soob, not talking thru out the entire journey? So soob decides to take a detour n drives to somewhere that doesnt have many ppl looking in the night.

They start talking n tried to resolve whatever their fighting abt, one thing led to another, well reader is giving him a bj!!(the rest of the smut is up to u!!)

inspired by that soob clip of course~ have fun love💗

REVVED UP EMOTIONS

SB 000 .F23 2024

wc 3.7k

pairings bf!Soobin x bratgf!reader

warnings oral sex, semi-public, unprotected sex, slight brat taming, being almost caught, pet names (+ anything that I missed)

faye's note this clip was on my mind 24/7. And after receiving it I got excited making this one out but I'm not sure if it turned out good because my mind was kinda occupied with thesis shit. Omfg. Anyways, I hope it isn't dry tho 😔

Conflict is an inevitable part of any relationship, be it familial, platonic, or romantic. Arguments can arise from misunderstandings, unmet expectations, or simply the simple things from daily life. Recently, you found yourself in a heated disagreement with Soobin, your boyfriend.

The sun hung low one afternoon, casting golden lights through the window. You were sprawled on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone. Soobin on the other hand, who had just come home from a busy day at university, was busy, again, in the kitchen, occasional noises of clicks and clangs of utensils on pots and pans plus the opening and closing of the faucet can be heard.

You overheard him murmur "Yeah, dinner for two," as he clicked his tongue. You felt a strange pang of irritation swell within you. It wasn't about him or the meal he was preparing, it was you. You actually promised him you would help out, maybe even cook together, but here you were, scrolling on your phone.

You stood up as you trudged to the kitchen, arms crossed as you leaned on the sink. "You didn't have to do all this," you stood feigning nonchalance as you bit your cheek to not show the guilt you were feeling. "You could have asked me for help."

"Oh?" He looked at you with disappointment, "I thought you were busy checking social media," his blunt reply and harsh tone made your ears hot out of irritation. "I didn't want to interrupt your 'important' scrolling."

The sarcasm was too emphasized and it stung more than you expected. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Your eyebrows furrowed as you met with his gaze. "Nothing! I just thought maybe you'd care enough to have some initiative or something. We both agreed to share the chores. I was tired the whole day only to come back home without even eating a single thing." His voice raised with frustration as he threw down the spatula.

"I was going to help!" Your voice was quite high as you tried to cover how you abandoned your promise. "Oh yeah? I was out all day to finish my projects. And there you were scrolling through your phone." He said as he crumpled the apron he was wearing and threw it also on the table.

"You know what, Soobin? Maybe I don't always want to help! Maybe I want a day off too!" You felt the tension suffocating the air around you. Your heart raced but you're too afraid you're wrong.

"That's fucking selfish!" His voice rose, echoing in the confines of the kitchen. "You can't just say you want a break when we agreed to support each other!" He even added. "Fine! I guess we don't need any support then!" You turned on your heel as if fleeing away would help erase the hurtful things that had been said.

"Hey, y/n! Where are you going!" He called but you did not even take a glance. He called you multiple times but his voice just faded out as you were stomping your way to the bedroom.

That night, you didn't come out for dinner. Your mind was in a whirlwind of regret and stubborn pride. Soobin had a point, you were just lazing around that time, however, you don't want to accept that it was your fault. That same night, he didn't come into the room. Your shared bed feels so empty, but you can't just bring yourself to ask for an apology.

Later that morning, you tiptoed your way out. Still too early that your boyfriend was still sleeping, uncomfortably by the way, on the couch. You just grabbed bread and water and went out.

You two always ride his car to go to school. But this time you were determined not to ask for a simple apology and went out by yourself instead. And yes, you were planning to walk to school for your practice. However, some guy passed by and let you ride their car. Since you know the one who offered you a ride, you accepted the offer. It was Kai anyway, aside from being in Soobin's circle of friends, he was part of your cheerleading team.

"Why are you walking so early in the morning? Where's Soobin?" He asked out of curiosity.

"I don't know, maybe somewhere." You answered as you rolled your eyes, still being stubborn. "Are you two fighting?" Kai chuckled as he watched your actions while the traffic light was still red.

"We broke up." You nonchalantly remarked. Well, that was supposed to be a joke, and you never thought that Kai would actually believe those words.

"Woah shit! You what?" He was really startled at what you said as he covered his mouth while keeping the other on the wheel. You just laughed at him as you took the last bite of the bread.

Your whole Saturday went on like the usual cheerleading practice days. But since your mind is still in a whirlwind of pride, you couldn't focus. Causing you to crash multiple times while practicing. You were even scolded by your coach and instructors telling you that you looked like your mind flying or some sort. You just rolled your eyes at them whenever they turn their backs to you.

For that reason, you got hurt, earning yourself a few scratches here and there. You didn't even bother at all. Kai on the other hand, took the chance to treat your scratches. You're still not aware that he actually took your words this morning to heart and mind.

"It's just a scratch, Kai. No need to create a big fuss." You chuckled as he handed you a few bandages.

"Still, scratches can cause infection." He defended himself.

"Fine fine, you win." You sighed in defeat.

You two shared each other's company during lunch that day. You could even tell that many eyes are watching you -- no, most probably judging you at this point. Nonetheless, you just shrugged it off and enjoyed Kai's company instead. Not knowing that this could fuel some bigger fire. Fire that Kai holds, and fire that your boyfriend holds.

Since Soobin was not on the campus that day, he just stayed at home. He can't even contact you since you purposely left your phone. He was just cleaning all day. Just decluttering everything at home. He knows you're practicing today anyway. The only difference is that he usually accompanies you to school and waits for you until practice is done and brings you home, but now, he's just at home busying himself with the chores. He just planned to fetch you later this afternoon and treat you to some restaurant to make it up to you since he feels sorry about raising his voice at you.

"Let's wrap up here today." Your coach shouts as he reminds the assigned cleaners to clean the gymnasium before going home.

"Ugh! Cleaning this whole gymnasium sucks!" You complained, picking up the materials your team has used.

"Anyway, why are you still here? You're not on the list to clean today, right?" You were pertaining to the young boy tailing you. He smiled as he scratched the back of his head, "I want to offer you a ride home." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Don't you have like, any other things to do?" You asked, counting the pompoms before storing them in the box.

"Don't have any." Kai shook his hand as he took the box from your hand and headed to the facility room.

As soon as you and the other were done cleaning, you immediately headed out, Kai insisted on carrying your cheerleading bag. Once again, eyes were gawking at the two of you. You can hear a few of them mumbling but you still ignored it.

Kai opened his car door to let you in. But before you could even step foot inside, someone spoke which made you stop in your tracks. "Where are you headed to?" You turn around to see Soobin as he brings his window down.

"O-oh Soobin hyung." Soobin nods at the younger boy to notice his existence, his elbow hanging at the open window.

You quickly retreat as you grab your bag from Kai. "I-i thought..." Kai stammered as he looked at you. "I was just messing with you Kai, it's not real." You sighed. "What did she say?" Soobin interrupted as he turned to you. You're just a millisecond late to cover Kai's mouth as the words slip out. "She said that you two broke up." Soobin snapped his head towards the younger, a smirk forming on his lips. "Did she?" Kai just nods, still clueless. "Get in," Soobin commanded over you. "I'll take her home, be safe, Kai," Soobin says as he closes the window, whistling.

The whole drive is deafening in silence. You can't hear anything except the faint music playing on the car radio.

"Wow, did we actually break up?" Soobin states with unbelief as he taps his fingers on the wheels.

You were still saying nothing. "Y/n, seriously, are you still mad at me? You didn't even eat last night." He sighed as he continuously threw you glances. Both of your hands were properly curled up in a ball above your thighs clutching your short skirt as you stared outside the window. Looking at whatever unpleasant view outside that seems interesting to you.

The once bright clouds turned darker. "Is it gonna rain? I thought I checked the weather news before I went out." Soobin whispers, changing the stations to listen to the news.

The raindrops started to fall on the car window, drizzling softly as it made the glass cold. "Grab my jacket in the backseat." Soobin talks to you again, but you're not even giving him a single glance.

Soobin messages his temple, "I wanted to take you to a restaurant tonight to make it up to you, but it looks like it's pouring really hard. I'm sorry y/n, just please talk to me." He's totally losing his patience at this point as if he's gonna burst again but tried his very best not to go over the top. He regretted raising his voice yesterday so much.

The once-familiar view of the road becomes foreign to your eyes. You turned to Soobin, looking at his unusual demeanor. If he'd been talking so much earlier, his lips were totally shut now. You wanted to speak and ask him where he was bringing you or what was wrong but you stopped yourself. Whatever will be, will be, you thought to yourself.

The rain started pouring harder, and the once busy road you were on looked empty now. Thunder clasps from far away making a rumbling sound. You try to rub your shoulder to create friction to keep your body warm. You're starting to feel cold and Soobin hasn't thrown you a glance nor commented anything at you.

He suddenly pulled up on the roadside, and the light from the lamp post dimly flickered inside the car.

"Not gonna lie, I felt like a dumb ass talking to a wall earlier." His eyes met yours for a while before you averted your gaze. He grabs his jacket and hands it to you, "Wear this, you must be cold. I just realized, your skirt is too short, and your tank top is too thin, at that." He eyes you up and down as you wear his jacket.

"This is fucking crazy." He mumbled as he pulled his hair.

"Y/n, baby, look, I'm really sorry for raising my voice at you, hm? I was just really tired last night." He gently placed his hand above yours on your thighs.

Your eyes were following a few cars passing by as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. You felt Soobin hold your face gently. "Baby, please look at me. I'm not used to this. You know me." Soobin's eyes were practically begging. He couldn't stand you giving him the cold shoulder.

The truth is you were just afraid. You're afraid to admit you had acted selfishly. Afraid of facing him after a petty argument over something so trivial.

"I just want you to talk to me," he caresses your cheeks, words so gentle and comforting, "I can't fix this if you won't talk to me."

Soobin pulls you in for a hug, warming up your heart. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, surrendering to him and putting down your stubborn pride. You mumbled a soft sorry as he gently rubbed your back. You let your arms move freely, as you return the hug to Soobin.

"Please don't do this again to me." He kissed your forehead. "I'm sorry for raising my voice, baby. I'm sorry for making you feel upset at me." Soobin's probably the sweetest guy you could ever ask for. He can make you feel loved and appreciated, but of course, you're just stubborn and bratty at times, which makes him wanna lose his temper.

Soobin pulls away, showering your face with a hundreds of kisses. You can't help but giggle at his actions."I didn't mean to shut you out." You mumbled with a pout. "You don't look sincere." Soobin commented which made you pout more. He chuckled as he pulled you in for a kiss.

The kiss felt soft and gentle. That's why you had no idea, why he was shoving his tongue inside your mouth. He bit your lip with a little harshness making you push him away. "Oww! What was that!" You complained. Soobin simply smirked at you. "I'm asking for an apology and forgiving you for one, but not the other issue." His smirk turns to a frown. "Soobin I can explain that..." Your heart began to race, thumping so hard you could feel it in your throat.

"Why don't we use that pretty little mouth of yours on something else good, yeah? Instead of giving people an opening to pounce on you." His eyes scream anger and lust at the same time.

"What do you mean?" You asked clueless. "What do I mean? You really want to hear the exact words?" Soobin taunted. "I don't get what you are saying." You shook your head. "I'm telling you that you just made an opening to let Kai pounce on you. Are you that dense, that you don't even know he likes you?" You were shocked at what Soobin just revealed to you. You opened your mouth to answer only for him to cut you off.

"Or don't tell me you wanted it all along?" He scoffs. "Soobin don't talk like that --" "Don't talk like what, doll? Aren't you the one who told him we're over?"

That's it, those words pushed you over the edge, switching your bratty side once more. "Okay, so what? What if I wanted it all along?" Your voice raised once more. "Kai is a good guy, plus he knows how to take care of someone he likes." You pushed Soobin's chest away from you. Soobin scoffed again, brushing his tongue inside his cheek.

"And I can tell --"

"Backseat. Or else --"

"Or else what? Huh? Are you gonna order me around again? Raise your voice over me again?" You taunt.

"I said backseat, you brat." He fixed his gaze on you and held your wrist.

His words are firm and strong which makes the hair on your neck stand up. He unbuckled his seatbelt and shifted the gear to park, leaving the car idle and the headlights on. You have no choice. You crawled your way to the backseat. you squeezed yourself to fit and pass by the center console. Soobin followed quickly, making his way through the front and back doors. As soon as he settled in the backseat, he ruffled his hair to whisk away some water from the rain.

Your eyes waver as you avert your gaze from him. His hand squeezed both your cheeks, "My patience is running low from your actions, doll. You're making it worse."

Soobin pulled you on his lap. You were almost covering him with how big his jacket you were wearing. His surname is written in big fonts.

He hiked up your skirt only to find out you had nothing underneath other than thin panties. Soobin scoffs, "Don't tell me you were gonna ride Kai's car with just this?" You bit your lip as you placed your hands on his shoulder when he started to rub you with your panties still on.

Soobin clearly knows how to make your knees weak. With just a simple touch and you're back to square one from being a brat. He pulled your panties off slowly without breaking the eye contact. His brows are still furrowed and you can still feel his anger.

"Let's see if you'd still want to ride his car after getting out of mine." He clicked his tongue and licked his finger, pushing two at the same time. Your mouth hung open as you squirm. "S-soob..." You can't talk straight, no, you don't wanna talk actually, but he has his ways to make you open your mouth. "How is it? Still wanna ride his car?" A sly smirk tugging on his lips. In which you replied with just a shake of your head.

"I'm close..." You whispered, biting your lips, watching how his fingers disappears and appears in your cunt. You shudder with the sensation, your high coming to you. But Soobin pulled his fingers out. You whined, hiding your face on his neck as you grind yourself above him.

Soobin's too focused on making you say the word sorry for the said issue. He did not even expect you'll act bratty once again after just apologizing for what happened yesterday.

He gripped your waist. "Stop moving or you'll not gonna cum for 1 week." Hearing this, you whine once more. You can't stand that punishment at least. But instead of getting the words out of your mouth, Soobin wasn't prepared for your action of apology.

You unzip his pants and slowly stroke him. Your face is still hidden in the crook of his neck. Planting soft kisses on his shoulder blade to his neck.

"Doll." His voice is warning yet you didn't budge, with only a small "please let me" coming out of your mouth.

His hand rubbed your back up and down, slipping them inside your top. Your skin is burning to his palm.

"What's with you, huh?" He asked, but he clearly knows you'd rather act like his little slut than let the five-letter word out of your pretty mouth.

You pulled back, squeezing your body once again on the small space between his legs. "Fuck-- just stop giving him signs -- ohh shit!" Soobin clearly shows his frustration at how he grips on the door. You gave him a few kitten licks and swirled your tongue on the tip of his cock making him jolt.

He looks down at you, meeting your eyes, "Fuck, is the word too much for you to say?" You took him whole the moment he spit those words making him thrust up a bit and lean back his head on the headrest.

"Ahh!" His breathy moans filled the car, making the glass foggy despite the rain and cold atmosphere outside. His hands tangled in your hair as you bobbed your head slowly.

You whimpered at how his cock pulsated on your tongue and how his tip kissed your throat. He gently caresses your cheeks as he holds them. You automatically leaned on his hand as you let him fuck your mouth.

His eyes were tightly closed. Lower lip trapped between his teeth. One hand on your cheek to hold you and the other firmly gripping the door to keep himself grounded.

"Baby fuck!" With one last thrust, he's cumming in your mouth. Draining himself on your wet and hot lips.

His heavy pants were the only thing that could be heard inside the car. Not until you hear a knock on the window. You quickly scrambled up your way to the seat as you sat properly, Soobin shoving his shirt down to cover his exposed length.

He opened the window slowly. "Is everything fine? You're hazard is switched on." A police officer said with an umbrella in hand, roaming his eyes inside the car. He even added that he was just passing by and noticed the car had switched on the hazard.

"I'm sure I didn't put the car on hazard though., must be when I got out.." Soobin mumbles, "But everything is fine, we just need to talk something out."

"Take care then, it's pouring hard." The officer apologized before going back to his car.

You looked at Soobin, fear evident on your face. You were doing things in a semi-public place but here you are, totally scared of getting caught. Soobin chuckled at you.

"Can you turn off the hazard light?" He appealed. You propped yourself on top of the center console to reach for the hazard button. But seems like some other button is getting pressed instead, as your hands retreat back to cover your mouth.

Soobin's tongue is licking your exposed cunt. Eating you out while you're still on the center console.

"S-soob, wait.." you tried your best to appeal to him but he did not budge. He continued shoving his tongue inside you. He then gently pulled you back to his lap, slowly sinking you down on his cock.

One of his hands lightly squeezes your neck, the other one pulling one of your hands back. He stopped you from covering your mouth as he continuously thrusts upward.

"Tight.. so tight..." He mumbles at your nape. "Pussy so good for me."

"M-more please." You quietly pleaded as you tried moving your hips. "Someone's eager to be filled." He commented back. "W-wanna be full of you, Soobin." You're feeling lightheaded at how he's squeezing your neck. He can't help but leave hickeys on your shoulder as he thrusts harder.

"I'm gonna get you pregnant at this point," he huffed. "D-don't care, w-want you," your words are slurred as you lean back on his chest.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" No other words just curses, was coming out of his mouth as he felt his cum being released.

You were totally breathless, your body slumped on him, his cock still twitching and pulsating inside your cunt. Soobin is totally worn out, dipping his head down on your shoulder.

"Let's stay like this for five minutes then we'll go home." He mumbled.

@binniesbooks 2024

[wolverigrl]

Farewells and Distractions

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

Prepare yourselves for some jealousyyyy! And well, I already have ideas for the next part! I'm so obsessed right now, send help.. :')

Warnings: fluff, angst, nothing more!

Enjoy!

Previous Part

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It was early, far too early for me to be awake, but there I was, driving Hugh to the airport. He sat beside me, quiet, his hand resting on my thigh, occasionally squeezing as if to remind himself that I was still there. I glanced over at him, taking in his profile - the way his jawline looked in the dim morning light, the faint tiredness under his eyes. He was heading to Sydney to visit his family for a few weeks, and I’d be joining him the next week. We had planned it so we could have some time apart and then reconnect, just the two of us, after he spent time with his parents and siblings. But as we drove, the reality of that week apart felt heavier than I expected.

“You have everything, right?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended. I already knew the answer. Hugh was meticulous. There was no way he’d forgotten anything.

“Yeah, I’m all set." he replied, his voice equally soft. He glanced out the window for a moment before turning back to me. “I hate leaving you, though.”

I smiled, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “It’s just a week. I’ll be there before you know it, and we’ll have all that time together. Just us.”

“I know,” he murmured, leaning over to kiss my temple. “But it still feels too long.”

We pulled into the airport, and the moment I put the car in park, my stomach flipped. I hated goodbyes, even temporary ones. Hugh reached for his bag in the back seat, and then he turned to me, eyes locking with mine in a way that made everything else seem to fade into the background.

“I’m gonna miss you." I whispered, my throat tight with emotion. I didn’t want to cry - God, it was only a week - but I couldn’t help it.

“I’m gonns miss you too, love." he said, and then he pulled me into a kiss. It wasn’t rushed or hurried like I expected. It was slow, almost reluctant, like neither of us wanted it to end. His lips moved against mine with the kind of tenderness that made me want to cling to him and never let go.

When we finally broke apart, he pressed his forehead against mine, and I felt his breath fan over my face. “I love you." he whispered, his voice barely audible.

My heart skipped a beat. I’d known for a while that I was falling in love with him, but those words… I wasn’t ready to say them yet, not because I didn’t feel them, but because it felt like too much, too fast. I smiled instead, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you soon.”

He nodded, pulling back and grabbing his bag. With one last glance, he headed inside, disappearing into the terminal. I sat there for a moment, staring at the space where he had been, feeling an ache in my chest that I wasn’t sure how to shake off.

The week without Hugh stretched out longer than I anticipated. I had plans with Ryan and Blake - they were supposed to keep me busy while Hugh was gone - but those plans fell through when Blake called me that afternoon.

“Hey, y/n!” Blake’s voice crackled through the phone. “I’m so sorry, but Ryan and I have to cancel for this week. We’re flying out to Canada - his mom needs help."

“Oh no." I said, leaning back against the couch. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, nothing serious. She just needs an extra pair of hands for a bit. We’ll be gone for a while.”

I tried not to let the disappointment creep into my voice. “No worries. Family comes first. We’ll hang out when you get back.”

After hanging up, I tossed my phone on the couch beside me and sighed. So much for that distraction. I glanced at the screen, wondering if Hugh had texted, but the silence between us was understandable - he was busy with family, and with the massive time difference, we hadn’t spoken much.

As if on cue, my phone buzzed. I grabbed it, expecting a message from Hugh, but instead saw Chris’ name.

CHRIS: Hellooo! What are you up to? I'm in Boston for the week. Scott, Carly and Shana are coming over. Wanna join?

I blinked, a little surprised by the spontaneous invitation, but the thought of spending time with Chris and his siblings sounded like the perfect way to take my mind off Hugh being gone. After a moment of hesitation, I decided to go.

Y/N: Might just take you up on that. Hugh's in Sydney and my plans here fell through.

CHRIS: Perfect! Let me know when you’re coming!

Hugh was busy, and it wasn’t like I was going to spend the week moping around. Plus, I would also meet my other friends, who I haven't seen for a while!

The days in Boston were great. Chris and his siblings were as always easy company, and I found myself laughing more than I had in days. We spent our time wandering through the city, grabbing food at hole-in-the-wall places, and drinking in tiny bars that didn’t care if we lingered for hours. I wasn’t constantly texting Hugh, mostly because the time difference made it hard to sync up, but we exchanged messages when we could even if it was mostly just short messages or a quick selfie.

Y/N: With friends in Boston. One day left! Miss you❤️

HUGH: Hope you have a great time. Miss you too. Can’t wait for you to get here❤️

One night, Chris’s brother snapped a candid photo of us all laughing at some stupid joke Chris had made and posted it on Instagram. I didn’t think much of it at the time - just a fun moment with friends.

After I reposted Scott's photo, I somehow got a weird feeling, because Hugh neither liked nor commented on it. He usually does that with all my posts.

But then my phone buzzed. It was a call from him. I frowned, glancing at the time. It was the middle of the night in Sydney.

“Hey!" I answered, stepping out onto the balcony to get some quiet. “Isn't it late in Sydney? What’s up? Are you okay?”

There was a pause on the other end, and I could hear the hesitation in his voice. “Yeah and yeah I’m fine. Just couldn’t sleep.”

I smiled, leaning against the railing. “What’s keeping you up? Family stuff?”

“Yeah, a little. I miss you." he said, his voice soft, but I could sense something else there too. Something unspoken.

“I miss you too. I’ll be there soon. My flight's tomorrow at noon.” I reassured him, but the nagging feeling that something was wrong wouldn’t go away.

There was another pause before Hugh spoke again. “Yeah okay. Just text me when you're at the airport. What have you been up to?”

“Just hanging out with some friends." I said, hoping to keep things light. “Boston’s been nice. It’s a good distraction.”

“I’m glad." he replied, though his tone didn’t sound completely convinced. I wanted to press, to ask him what was really going on, but something held me back. Maybe it was the distance, or maybe I just didn’t want to have a serious conversation at 3 AM Sydney time.

We talked for a little while longer, mostly about what he’d been doing with his family - going to the beach, having long dinners with his parents. It sounded peaceful, and I couldn’t wait to be there with him. By the time we hung up, I thought things were okay between us.

When I finally arrived in Sydney, I was ready to be wrapped up in my boyfriends arms, to forget about the distance and just be with him. But something was off the moment I saw him at the airport. He hugged me, kissed me, but there was a hesitation in his touch, a distance in his eyes that I hadn’t expected.

“Everything okay?” I asked as we got into the car.

“Yeah, just tired.” he said, brushing it off, but I could tell something was wrong and I didn’t push. Maybe he was still caught up in family obligations.

Over the next couple of days, that distance grew. He wasn’t as affectionate as usual, and when I tried to kiss him or initiate anything more intimate, he pulled back, offering a soft smile but nothing else. It was confusing, and frankly, it hurt.

It all came to a head one evening when we were sitting in his living room, and I could feel the tension crackling in the air between us.

“Hugh." I said cautiously as I looked at his profile. Iis something wrong? You’ve been distant since I got here."

He looked at me, his jaw tightening as if he was wrestling with something he didn’t want to say. “Why didn’t you tell me you were spending all that time with Chris?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What? I told you I was with friends in Boston.”

“You didn’t tell me Chris was one of them." he said, standing up, pacing now. His hands were in his pockets, but I could see the frustration in the way his shoulders tensed. “I saw your Instagram photo, y/n. You and Chris.. you looked really comfortable.”

I stood up too, feeling my heart race with a mix of confusion and frustration. “I didn’t think it mattered. It wasn’t just me and Chris - his siblings were there too. We’re friends, Hugh. That’s all.”

“I know you’re friends, but that’s not the point!" Hugh interrupted, his voice rising slightly. He turned to face me fully, his eyes searching mine as if trying to find something he couldn’t quite name. "You didn’t tell me. Why didn’t you just tell me it was him?"

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Because it wasn’t important, Hugh! We were in a group, it wasn’t just the two of us, and I didn’t think it would bother you. Chris and I are over. We’ve been over for years."

Hugh’s face tightened, and he took a deep breath, clearly trying to keep his composure. "But you two were something once. And now you’re still close, still spending time together, laughing together. I trust you, y/n, but… it’s hard for me to ignore the fact that you didn’t think it was worth mentioning."

I stared at him, feeling my own frustration bubbling to the surface. "Are you seriously mad because I didn’t explicitly say Chris was there? You know we’re friends. I didn’t hide it. I didn’t lie to you."

"It’s not just about Chris," Hugh snapped, finally letting the words spill out. "It’s about everything. You didn't even say anything back to me at the airport! I couldn’t help but felt like you didn’t really want this and went to see him. Maybe I’m too old for this, for you. And when I see you with someone like Chris, who’s younger, who shares your world more than I do… I just start to wonder."

His words hit me like a punch in the gut. I hadn’t realized he’d been carrying all this around with him, this insecurity about us, about our relationship. "Hugh, how could you even think that? We talked about the age difference and you were the one who literally said, that it's fine! It doesn’t even matter to me, and it’s never been about that. I didn’t realize you felt this way… you should have told me."

"I didn’t want to burden you with it. Especially after you were concerned about our relationship and the media." he muttered, turning away, his shoulders slumping slightly. "It’s my issue, not yours."

"No, it is our issue if it’s affecting us like this." I said, stepping closer to him. "You should have told me you were feeling like this, Hugh. I don’t want you to feel insecure about us, or about me spending time with anyone. I love being with you and I want to be with you."

He ran a hand through his hair, still not meeting my eyes. "It’s hard. I see how easy it is for you and Chris to be around each other after you have been together and I thought… maybe I’m holding you back and the thought intensified after you didn't say 'I love you' back."

I felt my chest tighten, a knot of frustration and sadness coiling inside me. "Hugh, that’s not true. You’re not holding me back. I’m with you because I choose to be. Chris is a friend, but you’re the one I want to be with. You’re the one I’m in love with. Also you caught me off guard with that and it was somehow too much for me to tell you before we said goodbye."

At that, Hugh’s eyes finally lifted to meet mine. For a moment, his expression softened, but the weight of everything still hung between us. "I don’t want to feel this way, y/n. I don’t want to doubt us."

"Then don’t." I said, stepping closer, placing my hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my palm. "You don’t have to doubt anything. I’m here with you because I want to be, not because I feel like I have to. I love you, Hugh. I love you in ways I didn’t think I could. And I need you to believe that."

He swallowed hard, and for a moment, I thought he might cry, or that I might cry, but instead, he pulled me into his arms. He held me tight, his chin resting on top of my head as he whispered, "I’m sorry. I’m sorry for letting this get to me."

I hugged him back, feeling the tension slowly ease out of him as we stood there, wrapped up in each other. "I’m sorry I didn’t think to tell you about Chris." I murmured against his chest. "I didn’t mean to make you feel like you couldn’t trust me."

Hugh kissed the top of my head, his arms tightening around me. "I do trust you. I just… I get scared sometimes too. It's my first relationship after a long marriage. It's new to me too."

"I know." I whispered. "We’ll figure it out together."

After a few minutes, I pulled away gently, looking up at him. "Do you want to talk more about it, or…?"

He shook his head, smiling softly. "No. I think we’ve talked enough for tonight." Then, his expression shifted, something playful creeping into his eyes. "How about we make some dinner? I know we’ve got some things we could whip up."

I smiled, grateful for the change in tone. "That sounds good. Let’s go cook."

Standing in Hugh's kitchen, I stirred the vegetables as the aroma of garlic and fresh herbs filled the air. Hugh was chopping some tomatoes next to me, the sound of his knife tapping against the cutting board rhythmic and soothing. We'd been talking for a while about upcoming projects - the usual couple interviews and some new film roles hat were coming our way.

He glanced at me with that familiar twinkle in his eyes. "You know, they've asked for some couple interview next month. Think we can manage to look civilized for one hour?" His lips curled into a teasing smile.

I raised an eyebrow, stirring the sauce as I shot him a look. “Do we really have to talk about that now? I thought this was our quiet time.”

Hugh chuckled and set his glass down, pushing away from the counter to move closer to me. “It is, but you know they’re going to ask us sooner or later. They’re all dying for a chance to talk to us - Hollywood’s favorite couple.”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, sure. You might be used to the spotlight, but I’m still getting used to it. Besides, I think they’re more interested in you than me.”

He slid up behind me, his arms snaking around my waist as he rested his chin on my head. “Oh, they’re definitely interested in you, trust me. And I think we make a pretty good team. You’re a natural on camera.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “That’s because you’re always cracking jokes and making me laugh. You're the one who always makes some smartass comment that gets us off track, but I don’t think I could get through an interview without you by my side.”

Hugh kissed my temple softly, his lips brushing against my skin. “Exactly. That’s why we should say yes to a couple of these. It’ll be fun. We can give them a little peek into our life.”

I sighed, stirring the sauce as I leaned back into him. “Alright, alright. I’ll consider it. But only if you promise to keep it light. No deep-dive, personal stuff.”

He raised an eyebrow, his breath warm against my ear. “No promises. They always find a way to ask the hard questions.”

I turned to face him, my hands sliding up to rest on his chest as I narrowed my eyes. “Then you’re answering those.”

He laughed, leaning down to press a quick kiss to my lips. “Deal. I’ll take the tough ones.”

As I turned back to the stove, Hugh kept his arms around me, his body pressed close to mine as he spoke. “You know, I’ve been getting some new film offers too. There’s one that might shoot in New Zealand next year.”

I felt a twinge of excitement at the mention of New Zealand. “Really? That sounds amazing. Have you decided if you’re going to do it?”

He shrugged, his hands absentmindedly playing with the hem of my shirt as he spoke. “I’m still thinking about it. I want to make sure it won’t take up too much time. I’d rather spend more of it with you.” His voice dropped, soft and intimate, and I couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly he shifted from teasing to sincere.

I turned to face him again, this time resting my hands on his arms. “You’re really not going to stop making me blush, are you?”

He grinned, leaning down to kiss me again, this time slower, lingering. “Not a chance.”

We stood there, the conversation fading as our lips met again and again, the kitchen suddenly feeling much smaller as the heat between us built. It wasn’t long before the playful kisses turned into something deeper, more urgent, and I found myself wrapped in his arms, pressed up against the counter, his hands sliding up my back as he kissed me like he couldn’t get enough.

Just as I was getting completely lost in the moment, Hugh pulled back, his breathing heavy as he gazed down at me. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you." he said, his voice a little more serious now.

I blinked, trying to focus through the haze of desire. “What is it?”

He hesitated for a moment, his thumb brushing over my cheek as he spoke. “The kids… they’ve been asking about you. They want to meet you.”

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. His kids. I knew this moment would come eventually, but the thought of meeting them, of stepping into that part of his life, made my stomach twist with nerves.

“Oh.." I said softly, my voice betraying my uncertainty. “I didn’t know they’d been asking about me.”

He nodded, his expression gentle but serious. “Yeah. I called them yesterday and they’ve been curious for a while now, but I didn’t want to bring it up until I felt like we were both ready.”

I swallowed, the weight of his words sinking in. “And… you think we’re ready?”

He held my gaze, his hand moving to cup the back of my neck. “I do. But it’s up to you. If you’re not ready, we can wait. There’s no rush.”

I took a deep breath, my mind racing. Meeting his kids was a big step, and the last thing I wanted to do was mess it up. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel like it was the natural next step. Hugh was such an important part of my life now, and if his kids wanted to get to know me, maybe it was time.

“I think I’m ready." I said, my voice steadying as I spoke. “I’d love to meet them.”

The relief on Hugh’s face was instant, and he pulled me into a tight hug, his lips pressing against my hair. “You have no idea how happy that makes me." he murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

I smiled against his chest, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. “I just hope they like me.”

Hugh pulled back, his hands framing my face as he looked down at me with absolute certainty. “They’re going to love you. Just like I do.”

I bit my lip, my heart swelling at his words. “I love you too." I whispered, feeling the weight of those words settle between us.

Hugh smiled, his eyes soft as he leaned down to kiss me again, this time slower, more deliberate. “I know.”

We stood there for a few moments, wrapped in each other, the conversation lingering in the air. But as the sauce on the stove began to bubble, Hugh pulled back with a playful grin. “Alright, we better finish this before we burn the house down.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I turned back to the stove. “You’re the distraction, not me.”

Hugh stepped up behind me again, his arms wrapping around my waist as he rested his chin on my shoulder. “You know..” he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone that always drove me crazy. “You could be right. But I think you like it and that we may need small breaks in between cooking."

I tried to focus on stirring the sauce, but it was impossible with him pressed up against me like that, his hands sliding up under my shirt, his touch warm against my skin. “Hugh.." I breathed, already feeling my resolve weakening.

“Hmm?” he hummed, his lips brushing against the side of my neck. “You were saying?”

I let out a soft moan, leaning back into him as his hands tightened around my waist, pulling me closer. “You’re impossible." I managed to say, though my voice came out shaky.

“Impossible?” he echoed, his mouth moving down my neck, sending shivers through my entire body. “I think you like me just the way I am.”

I laughed breathlessly, trying to keep the sauce from burning as he continued to kiss my neck, his hands exploring every inch of me. “The sauce is going to- ” I started, but before I could finish, the sound of bubbling and sizzling filled the air, and I realized that it was already too late.

“Shit!” I exclaimed, quickly turning off the stove as Hugh stepped back with a satisfied grin on his face.

He laughed, leaning against the counter as I tried to salvage what I could of dinner. “I told you we needed a break.”

I shot him a look over my shoulder, but I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. “This is your fault.”

He shrugged, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Maybe. But I think you enjoyed it.”

I rolled my eyes, turning back to the stove. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Damn right, I am,” he said with a wink, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

Even when everything else was up in the air - work, interviews, meeting his kids -  knew that as long as we had moments like this, we’d be just fine.

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@spectorrrhgf @tinawantstobeadoll @appetencyfortacos @weskerussy @kellyxo1 @larkkyoris @shukirschtein14 @corvusmorte @carefree-flowerchild @rexmeshlasblog @melmel-fandom @needz1nk @nonamevenus @morganlolitta @angelofthorr @pickuptruck01 @inlovewithcharmers @gaulty74

Next Part

[reverseexorcist]

★ 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 ★

Wow just realised this entire time my asks have been off woopsie ●_● Should be fixed now.

Anyway, since y'all went feral over this dynamic (and I can't blame you), here's more of Carmilla with her adopted fallen angel child.

I know I said part 2, but I'm honestly considering making this a sort've slice-of-life series seeing as I absolutely love this dyanmic and I'm having some serious brainrot over these two.

Part 1 ↫ Right Here

➲ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 Carmine + !Fallen Angel!Reader

➲ Romantic ☐, Platonic ☒

➲ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 Count; 3,662 Words

➲ Warnings/notes; Female reader, somewhat depressed reader, minor mentions of gore, sleep deprived writing, potential ooc Carmilla, mother mode Carmilla increased

Getting used to your new life required more effort than you ever thought was ever needed. Getting used to living in hell was a chore in of itself, and quite a tedious one, and getting used to the new family you now found yourself surrounded by only piled on a tad more stress.

Unlike heaven, the land below was almost always swathed in some sort've darkness - There was literally no day night cycle at all and it was fucking with your head. Your poor circadian rhythm was completely thrown all over the place when three in the morning was just as bright at two in the afternoon. Not to mention the smoke ever present in the air. You weren't sure which you hated more between the two.

(Probably the air. You actually liked it when you breathed and didn't hack up a lung.)

It was a lot, especially when you were getting used to your new wingless life.

(Which sucked, by the way. Every time your fight or flight response kicked in, you found yourself straining your back muscles trying to lift off with nothing to support you and it made you want to cry every single time it happened.)

However, all of this was way better than what could've happened had Carmilla not saved your life. Your back still ached and the phantom pain still tortured you at night, the feather-fluff nubs of your old wings only served as a painful reminder. As much as you hated to admit it, often times you'd spend the entire night longing for the newly comforting touch of your adopted mother figure…

Wow. That felt weird to admit. That and a whole lot of other repressed emotions and memories.

You groaned and sighed, clutching your head and threading your fingers through your tussled bedhair. Your back muscles flexed, the sound of rustling feathers muffled by the mattress. The sensation was weird enough to make you 'gwak', roll on to your stomach and faceplant into your pillow. It was more natural that way, anyway - When one has wings it was rather difficult to sleep on your back, afterall, at least after your first growth spurt. You never thought you would miss the feeling, but you fought to find any silver lining in your new life. And in a world that was mostly shades of red, silver was quite a luxury.

Your somewhat depressing quiet time was broken by the gentle tapping of steel carefully approaching your room.

"Mi peque?" You didn't have the energy to jump, already having heard the delicate 'tink' of Carmilla's pointed shoes against the hardword floor of your new home. Her silhouette took up most of the doorway, the faint light spilling in from the hallway making the angelic steel decorating her body glow, much like the warm lull of her crimson eyes. Your head tiltied to the side to stare at her, but otherwise you made no movement.

She blinked once and ducked her head to step into your room. If you were, well, you from about a week ago, you probably would've been shitting bricks at the sight. It was lowkey terrifying, mostly because Carmilla was so much taller than you and had the expression of a constantly pissed off commander or something. However, it didn't scare you - Mostly because your worst nightmare had already come true.

"Can't sleep?" Her voice was soft, something that completely contrasted her outward exterior. It was soothing, though, and you found yourself not caring when she settled herself on the end of your bed.

(Your new bed. Your new bed that you could, for once, comfortably stretch out on.)

"Something like that," You mumbled, practically whispered. Your eyes glowed much like Carmilla's, like a mischevious cat from your spot hidden under your multiple blankets. "It's, mm, weird. Sleeping by myself."

Her eyebrow quirked, a silent invitation to continue if you wanted to. Maybe? Emotions were still hard to read for you.

"Well, because I'm used to sleeping in the barracks with the rest of my platoon. It's apparently really comforting, seeing as I haven't had a good sleep since I got here," You grappled your blankets a little tighter, as if doing so would provide you with some sort've phantom comfort that you secretly longed for.

A breath of silence hung steadily in the air, as if both your minds were churning on what to say next.

"I'm sorry."

"M'sorry."

You both said at the same time, which seemed just a little cliche. Slinking out from underneath your covers, you couldn't help by eye the demon across from you warily.

"Why're you sorry?"

"Because, I'll admit, I'm a little rusty," She reached up and untied her buns, letting her hair loosen and tumble down her back. "It's been a while since my girls were young like you-" You scoffed, which prompted an amused smirk "And it's not like I know anything about taking care of an angel."

"Well, you're doing better than what they were doing up there," You blankly motioned upwards where the pearly gates shone brightly in the sky like a constant sun. "Plus, I'd say you're dealing with me as gracefully as you can."

"Elaborate?" Carmila carded her fingers through her hair, tilting her head curiously. The mountain on your shoulders threatened to stumble, and by god you were ready to let it fall.

"Well, it's not like any heaven-born has parents. Heaven was always all about equality and shit, and every single child was raised by the community. And yeah, it was all rainbows and crap because everyone was loved mostly equally, but it sucked because I was always just another nestling that someone had to keep an eye on," You brought your knees up to your chest. "That's why, when the lieutenant gave me her offer I didn't refuse, cause I thought 'wow, someone noticed me!' and it was a feeling I chased ever since."

It felt nice to let it all out for once. Not like anyone else around you back then really cared, cause they all went through the same thing.

Beside you, the covers rustled. Carmilla opened her arms wordlessly, minutely enough that if you didn't want to, you could probably brush the motion off as stretching. But, the warmth the she radiated was sorely tempting, and your little serotonin deprived brain was severly touch-starved.

Wow, four days into your new life, and you found yourself snuggling into the arms of one of Hell's overlords. And, sullying the lord's name, by god you loved it.

Not a single word had to be uttered between the two of you, not as long as you didn't want it. That was the silent message that you both clearly understood.

It kind've made you want to cry, if you were being honest with yourself. In a place that had seemingly been perfect, you found your life lacking, and in the burning pits of eternal damnation, you'd found yourself feeling loved for the first time since you could remember. The way Carmilla's hold around you grew tighter, just ever so slightly - A comforting weight draped across your shoulders as you leaned into her warmth. That, along with her mellow breathing, it felt homely and nostalgic.

Tugging your blankets a little tighter around yourself, you didn't even fight the way your eyelids drooped.

Two weeks.

It felt like a lot longer, but you'd been living in hell for fourteen days, and it already felt like you'd been living here for months.

Well, it certainly didn't help that you never really left the main house. Like, ever. And you, for one, weren't complaining. The burning pits of Hell left much to be desired, and as a little angel who hadn't even had her first adult moult yet, you didn't really fancy going galavanting off around Hell, even if Carmilla was hovering over your shoulder like a helicopter parent.

Still, after the first week where you'd discovered and explored all the places that you were allowed to (the allure of the armory was great, but the potential wrath of an angry demon was greater), there wasn't really anything to do around the house. Sure, it was probably one of the safest places in the eternal firepit, but neither Carmilla nor Clara and Odette were ever really around, and it left you bored out of your mind.

Sprawled out across a rather decadent couch, soaking up the hellfire from outside, you found yourself wishing that something would happen that would hopefully prevent your mind from rotting further. But, if the big man from upstairs was paying attention, he surely must've hated you, because literally nothing was happening.

Unless…

You sat up, straining your ears.

Nope. Absolutely nothing.

You flopped backwards dramatically, back of your hand against your forehead and all.

Maybe, if you still had your weapon, you could've spent your time training or practicing or something. There was a training room somewhere in the house, and you weren't explicitly banned from using it, and it wasn't exactly a useless way to spend your time.

(At least that way you'd be able to get some reasonable exercise in rather than just moping around all day.)

Maybe that was something you could ask Carmilla later. She wasn't the type to be against learning self defense, however you had no idea if even she deemed yourself too young to learn how to fight. She certainly was not happy when she found out about how you were sent to fight with baby feathers still warming your wings, that was for sure.

At least you had something to talk about when she got home.

…

"You want to learn how to fight?" As expected, Carmilla didn't seem entirely thrilled at your idea.

"Not necessarily. Just, how to use weapons?" It was more of a question than an answer, but it seemed to ease the tenseness in her shoulders.

"What type of weapons? Swords? Spears? Firearms?" She fixed you with a look. "If you want to get started, the first thing you could do is be a little more specific."

Which was certainly not the answer you were expecting, so you took a few moments to blue screen.

"Well, I wasn't too fond of using spears… Swords don't sound to appealing either…" Your eyes started drifting, and soon you found that your real answer was right in front of you.

"If possible," You wrung your hands nervously, "could I use shoes like you do?"

Honestly, Carmilla's unique fighitng style had piqued your interest ever since your head became clear enough to notice. Having your hands free sounded more appealing than lugging around a heavy blade.

The demoness paused for a moment, completely silent as she studied you with a stern gaze. It wasn't negative or positive, if anything it was most likely calculative. You weren't entirely stupid, even if you were young, and you weren't naive. Carmilla was weighing the pros and cons of teaching you her trade.

"Why? They aren't exactly easy to use," That wasn't a no, at least.

"I don't like melee weapons, not hand-held ones at least," There was more to your answer that Carmilla already knew. Months of cycling through weapons till you landed on one you could somewhat use you realised that you absolutely hated using hand-held weapons.

Carmilla sighed, a small smile appearing on her face.

"Okay, but it's not like I have spare angelic steel laying around. We'll have to wait till I can melt more down," She mused, almost seeming excited about crafting you your own weapon. But her words only confused you more.

"But, we do, don't we?" You furrowed your brows.

"The steel in the armory is meant for prepaid orders-"

"I was talking about my old helmet," You hoped that didn't sound too rude, interupting her. "I mean, the entire thing is is technically angelic. I don't know if it's steel exactly, but I know for a fact it's just as solid!" Now you were the one musing.

Like mother like daughter, almost.

"We could certainly try…" The two of you shared a look.

"Like… Right now?" You prodded almost mischeviously.

Tired as she was, Carmilla couldn't help but falter and smile, your enthusiasm almost contagious.

"Well, we can have a look."

After that it was only a matter of days. Carmilla was far more invested in your new project than you had expected, and even Clara and Odette had briefly joined in, if only to get a sneak peak at the workings behind an exorcists helmet. For the briefest of moments, with all four of you crowded around a table with tidy plans sprawled all over its surface, it almost felt like you were a family. Which, did prompt a stray thought in your head.

After gently pulling the threads of angelic steel from the rivets in the helmet's horns, you couldn't help but bundle them to your chest. They weren't exactly big, nothing compared to the horns of a full fledged exorcist, but they were still something.

So, while your mo-… Carmilla was busy melting down the odd, almost obsidian material of your old helmet in preparation of your new shoes, you were busy tinkering away with your own little side project. Of course, it was hard to explain the various little burns marks littered across your palms that had started appearing, but that didn't deter you one bit.

In fact, during this time, you found yourself shyly approaching the taller of Carmilla's other daughters, Odette.

One thing about her that confused you was the fact that her horns were fake, merely attatched to the band that held her hair up. But right now, that was exactly what you needed.

It was a sweet sight, honestly, at least to Carmilla.

You were huddled against Odette, listening with rapt attention as she explained something to you, finger brushing against what was most likely some sort've plan.

With a smile, Carmilla got back to work.

At the end of it all, you were left with a pair of shoes similar to the overlord's. Pointed and shiny. Sharp and deadly, yet oddly comfortable. The only key difference was the colour - Forged from the scrapped glass of your old helmet, the shoes were jet black inlaid with threads of silver, trailing all the way up the ballet ribbons.

And with your shoes, a matching set of your own horns. Odette seemed proud at the sight of you with small, obsidian horns branching from your head, unable to stand still as you clutched your new weapons to your chest gleefully.

There was a massive learning curve to your new weapons, but at least you weren't bored around the house anymore. Most of your time over the next month had been dedicated to learning how to move around in your new shoes, building both the strength and balance so you could walk, let alone run. So many bruises had been blemished into your skin, but in the end you were able to walk almost as easily as Carmilla did.

(Of course, the demoness had way more experience under her belt, but you were still doing pretty damn well.)

And during that time, the bond between you, Clara and Odette had only grown. Sure, they were only around as much as their mother, but after donning your horns, it seemed whatever barrier that had been built between you and the sisters had been torn down. Seeing as the two could also walk en pointe like their mother, many a helpful tip had been shared from them which served to get you walking faster.

It was endearing as it was funny to watch.

But, being couped up inside all day everyday was starting to wear you down, which was certainly starting to show with the way your pep had slowed down significantly.

With a heavy heart, Carmilla finally unleashed you on the world outside, accompanied by Clara and Odette.

In reality, you were just tailing behind the sisters on one of their usual deliveries. This way you could stretch your legs and practice on terrain other than the smooth floors of your home, which, while it was more difficult, was learnt within no time.

As dreary as the place looked, there were certainly sights to see around ever different corner. You'd found yourself tempted to wander off every five minutes or so, especially when you passed by a rather bright looking… hotel? The entire vibe seemed friendly and inviting, unlike the rest of Hell, but you really didn't fancy getting lost, so sticking close by Clara and Odette was the most sane option in the moment.

Or, at least that was the plan.

Really, with your head on a swivel trying to grasp every sight and sound (which you regretted not a moment later) you'd lost sight of the sisters and found yourself completely by your lonesome.

Which… Fuck.

That wasn't the most ideal position, especially when you really couldn't do more than walk in your new shoes, but they couldn't have gotten far, right?

You were wrong. Turning either corners of the street yielded no Clara or Odette, which only made your heart sink further into your stomach because you really didn't fancy getting cornered in an alley.

Backtracking, you tried your hardest to think. Perhaps, if you could find your way back to the hotel, someone there could help you? It was wishful thinking, because this was Hell after all, but the aura was so different compared to the rest of the ring of wrath that maybe, just this once, luck would be on your side.

But of course, since this was you, luck was mercilessly right out of your reach. Not a moment later, a rambunctious howl pierced the air and a group - a pack? Of hellhounds started approaching you. Which, y'know, wasn't good, especially with the way their ears were pinned back and grins plastered across their faces.

Oh shit.

You started speed walking away, or your best attempt at it, in what you hoped was the direction of the hotel. Down in the streets without either of your guides, it all seemed like one continuous labarynth of red, LEDs and very questionable stores. And, as it turned out, lots of dead ends that you could easily get cornered in.

With the blood thrumming in your ears, heart pumping in your chest loud enough that it shook your head and just the general sense of 'oh shit I am so fucked', you really didn't pay attention to whatever the hounds were spouting off about. Lots of snapping of teeth and snarls, some crude gestures that made your gut twist anxiously and your feathers rustle nervously.

(You were seriously considering using a shoe as a knife. It wasn't like it was impossible with how sharp they were.)

At least, that was your train of thought. Until a resounding bang pretty much deafended you, echoing a chorus of ringing in your ears as the middlemost hound collapsed, head exploding with the force of the bullet that lodged itself firmly within the back of his disintegrated skull.

With dramatic timing, the others peered over their shoulders, only to be met with the towering, thoroughly pissed off form of Carmilla Carmine.

The barrel of her rifle was tinted with holy silver, but she seemed perfectly happy and prepared to behead them with a well placed kick. Whichever worked, you knew Carmilla prioritised your safety over the method of execution in the end. And in the end, the alley was scattered with various corpses in various states of limb loss, and you were carefully toted away in the arms of Carmilla.

She was furious. Probably. Maybe. You couldn't really tell. her face was completely stoney, and you were still awful when it came to identifying emotions. You assumed most of the anger had been taken out on the unsuspecting assholes that had cornered you. And for some reason, that only made you more anxious.

Not being able to tell what she was thinking was off. Back in Heaven, you could tell when Lute was pissed off, or proud, or indifferent, or whatever other emotion she was feeling at the time because she didn't really give two shits about what the recruits thought of her. And at least that way you could prepare on how to react. If she was angry, you knew to stay out of her way. If she looked indifferent, you knew you had to work harder in training. If she was proud, well, also best to stay out of her way so you didn't ruin her mood.

You whimpered and huddled a little closer. Carmilla clutched you a little tighter.

"Are you alright?" She finally asked once you were close enough to home that is was mostly just her employees around the two of you.

"Please don't be mad at Clara or Odette. It was my fault for getting lost," Was what you went with anyway. Carmilla shushed you gently.

"I'm not mad, I just want to know if you're okay."

Which completely threw you off. But you just went with it.

"M'fine. You got there before they could do anything," Those words seem to put her mind at ease, her shoulders visibly untensing as she exhaled a long sigh.

She hugged you, closer and tighter to her chest as if scared you were about to disappear from her hold. And you could only return the gesture, sinking into her comforting warmth. It made you feel small, almost like a little nestling on her first trip out of the nursery, but you found that you didn't really give two shits in the moment because you felt completely, wholly safe right where you were.

"Mi peque, mi querida, mi corazón," She uttered softly, "never wander from your siblings again."

Despite the firm tone, you could feel the care dripping from her words. You sighed and relaxed.

"Of course, mother."

Rules + Info,

Masterlist,

[teardrop-scales]

Hi I have a request! How about a love potion one shot or head canon with lmk Wukong and fem (s/o)? Please and thank u 🙏🏻

Love potion: Sun Wukong x reader headcannons 🧪

A.N: I decided to do this in a headcannon format, but more story-driven one, and I actually changed your request a bit so Wukong and reader aren't a couple yet in this. Hope that's okay!

You were having a peaceful afternoon after your early morning shift at work when MK called you.

You were surprised at this; you knew he was supposed to be training with your friend/crush Wukong and usually that made him quite busy and unreachable. So you knew that something must've happened.

When you picked up the phone , it turned out that The Monkey King himself somehow accidentally drank a love potion that he had in his stash of artifacts and other useless things.

MK wasn't exactly sure how the potion worked; on the bottle it was only written that, thankfully, the effects last only for a day or so, and the poor kid couldn't exactly ask his mentor about it right now. Besides, you were sure that Wukong wouldn't know even in the right/normal state of mind.

According to MK, the monkey acted somewhat normal for a few minutes, until he saw you in the photo he had of you two stashed somewhere. Then the potion truly started to kick in. At least that's what you think happened, provided you understood MK's frantic explanation correctly.

And to summarize, the boy wanted you to take care of Wukong for a bit until the potion stopped working, since the monkey was apparently constantly bugging him about wanting to see you. You could even hear Monkey King gushing about you and cutting in through MK's phone "to say hi".

You kinda feared what it would be like. You just hoped he wouldn't be too overbearing and that you won't explode from flusteredness, given you had a crush on Monkey King and thanks to the potion, he was in love with YOU of all people.

But you knew that MK had to go to his afternoon shift at Pigsy's, and Wukong couldn't be left alone in this state, so of course you agreed.

So in a short amount of time MK was standing in front of your apartment door with the Monkey King behind him. The boy thanked you once again and then he was gone. Leaving you alone with your lovesick crush.

His eyes were much wider than normal, and there was a slight pink gleam in them. He also had a wide smile on his face, his tail swishing behind him. Basically all the signs that he was happy.

"Peaches, I'm so glad to see you!"

He exclaimed in a much more higher pitched and cheerful voice than normally before crushing you in a hug.

"Yeah, good to see you too, Wukong" You replied and awkwardly reciprocated the hug, while Sun buried his face in the crook of your neck and inhaled your scent.

Overall Wukong was much more cheerful, talkative and emotional than normal under the effect of the potion.

After the hug he started asking you a ton of questions, like, how was your day? How are you feeling today? No demon tried to attack you since he last saw you, right? Etc.

You also noticed that he called you 'Peaches' a lot. Of course, sometimes he did call you that before the potion, but only sometimes and he always acted like that was a slip up. He usually calls you by your name or similarly to MK, 'bud'/'buddy', maybe 'pal' sometimes.

To be honest, you weren't sure what to do with Wukong and how to keep him busy and not bored until the potion stopped working. So you suggested watching a movie.

And of course, probably 'cause of his lovesick state, he chose a romantic comedy...

It's not like you've never watched that kind of movie with him before, you actually did - you both liked to make fun of the characters and point out the corny and cringy aspects of the movies, but this time Wukong was really invested in a way he never was before.

The second you both sat on your couch, the monkey clung to you, hugging and cuddling you like a teddy bear. He was so close it was impossible for him to be any closer to you. Wukong pressed his furred cheek against yours and curled up to your side, his tail curling around your ankle.

Meanwhile you just sat there, inwardly screaming and having a panic attack at how close and intimate he was right now, and how much you liked it and secretly wished he wouldn't let go. And he didn't for the whole movie, being too invested in it to notice or care about you blushing.

This time he also made comments during the movie (that's just the way he is, sometimes he just can't keep completely quiet for that long), but not snarky/mocking ones. Instead he kept staring at the screen with sparkles in his eyes each time the characters did something which could be considered "romantic" and saying something along the lines of "Ooh, that is so romantic! Wouldn't it be nice if we did something like that, Peaches?" Or change his mood completely and ask with a smug expression "Soo, what did you think? What would YOU think if SOMEONE did something like this for YOU?"

Summarizing, he was VERY subtle...

You tried to answer both honestly and nice enough not to hurt his feelings. But, truth be told, you lied a few times so he wouldn't feel bad/hurt. You felt slightly guilty about lying to your friend/crush, even about such stupid things. Oh well, if you're lucky, Wukong won't remember any of this.

To be honest, you were thankful that this whole love potion experience took a pretty lovey-dovey route and not... Y'know, the more suggestive and lustful one? Because when it comes to Wukong it sometimes could be both. It probably also depended on the potion itself.

So yeah, you were grateful that the most he did was throw a more suggestive comment with this smug face of his here and there.

After the movie ended, you figured it was a good time for dinner.

Right after you started getting off the couch and out of Wukong's grasp, he asked with a pouty tone where were you going.

"I'm just going to the kitchen to make pancakes for dinner. With peaches~" You added in a sing-songy voice. You knew how much your monkey friend loved those fruits, so you always made sure to have some at your house just in case.

"Oh!" Wukong's face lit up slightly at the mention of his favorite fruits. "You don't have to get up though! I can make the pancakes with no problem, you don't have to do anything, in fact, you don't even have to get off the couch! I'll do everything for you, no biggie. You must be so tired after your morning shift today, Peaches! Besides, I'm a pro at cooking!"

You barely managed to hide a snort after his last sentence. It was endearing that he wanted to spoil you and do things so you wouldn't have to but he definitely wasn't a pro at cooking. You taught him some basics and thanks to that The Monkey King was able to cook simple dishes so they were actually edible. But not much more than that.

However, you agreed for two reasons: one, so you wouldn't hurt his feelings (it was so cute how his eyes and entire face shined and how bright his smile was when you said "okay"), and two; you were quite curious how this would turn out.

"Okay, but call me if you need help."

"You're so sweet, Peaches! But that won't be necessary."

After that Wukong went to the kitchen.

In short, it turned out that Sun mistook powdered sugar for flour, so the pancakes were... Quite a disaster, honestly.

You had to console the poor Monkey for a few minutes, because he felt like he failed and disappointed you. He was practically close to tears (that potion really did make him much more emotional, huh?)

He only cheered up after you suggested ordering something from Pigsy's. And of course, being the gentleman he suddenly became thanks to the potion, he insisted he should be the one to make the call. You could imagine that the pig wasn't very happy to hear him, but nonetheless after some time your order arrived with MK to your door.

"So, how is he?" Asked the teen. "I hope he was... Umm... Well behaved?"

"He was actually. It's just that he's much more cheerful and emotional than normal." You chuckled.

After that you invited MK inside, since he just ended his shift while bringing your and Wukong's order.

You and your crush ate your dishes and MK ate some chips you had in the kitchen. Meanwhile Wukong kept gushing about you to the teen, making you very flustered and flattered at the same time.

"I just love you Peaches so much!" Happily exclaimed Wukong at one moment.

Then a small, quiet gasp escaped your lips. Oh, how much you wished he truly meant those words. But you knew that this was just the potion talking, sadly.

After that MK suggested he should take Wukong back to the Flower Fruit Mountain since he ended his shift now.

Unfortunately, Sun heard that and he wasn't pleased. He immediately embraced you and squished you tightly against himself and kept saying how he needed to stay to protect you from demons or burglars breaking into your house. And also claiming that he doesn't want to be alone and that he had such a good time with you, so he didn't want it to end. Wukong was pretty much like an emotional child thanks to the potion at that moment. MK tried to pry him off you, but to no avail.

You had to promise Wukong that he could come over the next day in order for him to let you go and calm down.

Finally Sun agreed to go with MK, but not before hugging you tightly once more, kissing your cheek and saying "Love you, Peaches!".

You couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief when Monkey King left with his successor. This was an interesting experience, but it was quite tiring too. You also had many complicated emotions after this and needed a lot of time to process them. All of this just made you realize how hopeless you were in your crush on Monkey King himself and, how badly you wanted him to truly love you.

Later, in the evening, you suddenly grew curious about the love potion which your friend drank. So you decided to call Tang to check if he knew something about it; after all, who else could have such knowledge if not him?

"A love potion you say? Hmm... Well I do recall hearing some myth about some deity or someone who wanted to invent a potion which could make people fall in love. They kind of succeeded, but actually later it turned out that the potion didn't create those feelings from scratch."

"What do you mean?" You had a feeling where this was going, but you needed a clear confirmation.

"In order for the potion to work, the person who drank it had to already have some feelings for someone. The potion just caused those feelings to grow abnormally stronger and made the drinker more emotional, confident and bold about their feelings. Umm, but why are you asking?"

You were flabbergasted. Could it be...? "Oh, it's nothing, I was just curious. Thanks Tang, I have to go now, bye!" After that you ended the call, not even letting the scholar say goodbye.

That meant that Sun Wukong, aka The Monkey King himself had a crush on YOU. A REAL CRUSH. SINCE WHEN?! How long was he hiding it? Either you were really dense and oblivious or he was really good at hiding his true feelings. Honestly, it was hard to determine which was true in that situation.

For a solid minute you just sat there with your mouth open. Your mind literally screamed "error". Then you suddenly squealed like a teenage girl, jumped in the air and said "YES!"

Well. It seemed like you needed to have a little chat with Wukong.

[anobsessedwriter]

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑪𝒚𝒄𝒍𝒆ִֶָ࣪☾.

Rafe Cameron × reader (ANGST)

Warning: toxic relationships, manipulation, gaslight, just rafe being toxic.

๋࣭ ⭑✮˙⭑

˖⋆࿐໋

Rafe Cameron had a way of drawing people in with his magnetic charm and effortless charisma, not to mention his good looks. When you first met him at a summer party, the way he smiled and looked at you, made you feel like the most special person in the room. you were easily captivated by his charm.

In the early stages of your relationship, Rafe was the perfect boyfriend. He showered you with affection and gifts, constantly surprising you with dinners and weekend getaways. “You deserve the world,” he’d say, making you feel over the moon, These moments created a deep bond between the both of you, but they were also a smokescreen for the darker aspects of his personality.

As their relationship progressed, the cracks began to show. Rafe’s controlling tendencies started subtly. When you went out with friends, Rafe would text you frequently, questioning where you were and who you were with. “I just want to know you’re safe,” , "Can't you see that i'm worried",his frequent messages felt suffocating, as you couldn't enjoy a moment without him making you feel guilty for leaving him alone so you'd quickly return.

whenever you decide to attend a party with your friends, Rafe’s demeanor would immediately shift from affectionate to cold as soon as you mention your plans to him. he'd always say “Again with the parties?” or “I thought we had plans tonight.”, "they're more important than your own boyfriend?" you always try to explain that you need a bit of space, but Rafe’s disapproval was palpable. you were left with feeling guilty and ashamed for wanting to enjoy a night out.

During the next few months together, Rafe’s outbursts became more frequent and intense. He would criticize your appearance, and say things like “ why are you trying too hard” or "isnt that way too revealing?",One afternoon, as you were getting ready for a casual lunch date, Rafe snidely remarked, “Are you really going out in that? looking like a damn hooker.” The comment left you feeling self-conscious and hurt, despite your attempts to brush it off.

he'd constantly accuse you of cheating, whenever you don't text him instantly, when you don't pick up immediately or when you come home a bit late, he'd yell and break things, making you cry and flinch then he'd try to comfort you saying he's sorry and he just love you.

Rafe’s manipulation was psychological as much as emotional. When you tried to discuss your feelings, he would deflect or twist the conversation. “You’re too sensitive,” he’d say when you expressed how you felt by his actions and words. “I’m just being honest. If you can’t handle the truth, maybe this isn’t going to work.” you felt like you were walking on eggshells, afraid to express your emotions in for of making him upset or starting another argument.

The relationship became more toxic as Rafe started to slowly isolate you from your friends and family. Whenever you spent time with them, Rafe would accuse you of neglecting him. “You’re always with them,” “Don’t you care about us anymore?” The guilt he built in you led you to eventually distance yourself from those you loved, making you more reliant and dependent on Rafe.

you still remember the time when your friend kiara noticed the change in you, you never were this distant or this quite. When She talked to you about it,Rafe blew up with anger. “She’s just trying to control you,” “She is probably jealous of us, i dont want you talking to her okay?”, you just couldn't say no or disagree with him.

Rafe’s apologies were frequent trying to manipulate you into forgiving him, he would show up at your apartment with flowers and a box of your favourite chocolates. “I’m sorry for what happened,” ,“I love you more than anything. I’ll change, I promise.”

and if that doesn't work? he'll switch it up on you balming you for it all, "it's all your fault", "maybe this wouldn't happen if you just listened to me", you would forgive him, hoping that these sweet and caring gestures were a sign of change.

Despite these moments of sweetness, the cycle of toxicity continued. On one occasion, you discovered that Rafe had been secretly reading your messages, When you confronted him, Rafe’s reaction was defensive. “I just wanted to check, whats wron with reading my girlfriend's messges” he said. “why are you upset? are you hiding something?.”

The last straw was when Rafe had taken you to a dinner with his family and friends where he criticized you in front of everyone When you tried to defend yourself, Rafe would get angry “You’re embarrassing me you know?" , “Why can’t you just behave".

That night, as you laid in bed, you realized that the person you once were had been overshadowed by Rafe’s demands and criticisms. The realization was painful, but it needed to be acknowledged. you knew you needed to leave for your own well-being.

you got up and started packing things to leave. Rafe’s pleas for you were too hard for you to ignore. “im just trying to protect you,” he said, “We can work this out. I promise, I love you.” and you couldn't say no to him,you couldn't just ignore him and leave you were too far in love.

would he really change....probably not but you still had hope.

[lumitoiile]

xiao : [crapbag.]

☆ — fluff; he takes care of you while you're sick. gn! reader (no pronouns.)

"achoo!" 

you sniffle, nose red as you stare up at your ceiling in annoyance. ugh. you've been bedridden all morning, sneezing and coughing up a fit. you can't even remember how you got sick in the first place... it's all a blur. your head feels light and your thoughts have started to grow delirious. 

"this sucks," you groan, reaching over for a tissue on the nightstand and nearly falling off your bed in the process. why'd you have to get sick today, of all days? you'd been planning to visit xiao this afternoon, but...that's obviously out of the question now, given the circumstances. you barely even had enough energy to walk to the bathroom this morning. 

you sigh, leaning back onto your pillow after loudly blowing your nose. after trying your best to make yourself a little more comfortable, you gently hover your hands over your eyelids, keeping them shut. mmn...cold hands. that feels nice. a yawn escapes your mouth, satisfied tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. "i wonder what xiao's up to right now," you whisper. 

well, it’s not like the two of you are particularly close or anything—you hardly even qualify as friends, and knowing him, no progress was going to be made there any time soon. ‘human interaction is quite troublesome,’ so he says. but something about him feels…lonely, in your eyes. or maybe it’s sad? you can’t tell. it’s hard to get a good read on that guy, mister ‘i don’t feel emotion like you mortals do.’ 

“it’s you.”

you jolt at the sudden voice, sitting upright and frantically scanning the room for its source. and low and behold, there he is, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. uh oh. he looks irritated.

”xiao…?” you blink a few times, rubbing your eyes to try and convince yourself he’s actually real, standing here before you. up until he spoke, you hadn’t even heard or noticed him. “wh—where the hell did you come from?”

he lets out a tired sigh, gold eyes narrowing. “you called out my name, did you not?” he says it like it should be obvious. “but you don’t seem to be in any danger…why have you summoned me?”

”what are you—“ oh. that’s right, you remember him saying something about that…whoopsie! you give him a sheepish smile. “s-sorry,” you mutter, voice raspy and laced in sick. “it was an accident. nothing's wrong, j-just feeling a little under the weather is all. you should leave before i get you sick too…”

he looks like he wants to roll his eyes. “you shouldn't worry over something so foolish. we adepti do not get sick," he scoffs. 

you nearly facepalm. ah, right. he said pretty much the same thing about sleeping a little while ago. regardless, you stumble out of bed, struggling to steady yourself as you plant your feet and lean onto the nightstand. "i still don't want to give you any of my icky germs. you should...you should go."

you're tempted to start pushing him toward the door, but that would defeat the purpose of trying to keep your germs away. he notices this and stares at you for a moment before letting out another sigh, speaking in a low voice. "you're in no condition to be left here alone."

"w-what are you talking about? i'm completely fine," you lie, holding back a wicked cough and chuckling awkwardly. "really, you don't to stay here. its...not even that bad! see?"

his gaze on you is intense and his eyebrows furrow. "your complexion is scaring me. please sit down."

"i'm telling you, i'm fine—" you try to take another step toward him, as if to prove that you're capable of doing so, but the archons don't seem to be on your side today because your knee gives out and you fall over again.

oh shit.

xiao's at your side in an instant, catching you and wrapping an arm around your waist, holding your own over his neck as he keeps you steady. "i told you," he scowls, eyes narrowed. "you need to be more careful." 

you start hastily start sputtering out apologies, but he pays you no mind as he effortlessly lifts you back onto your bed, pulling his touch away quickly as if he might hurt you somehow. "just—stay here. don't move," he mutters. "i'll...look after you."

your heart nearly stops and you start to feel your face getting warm, though this time it isn't from your sickness. did you hear him correctly? "y-you don't have to do that! i'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself...really, i'm sure you have other things to do."

he doesn't say anything. instead, he takes note of your red face and leans a little closer, very carefully brushing his fingers against your forehead. this, of course, only makes your cheeks heat up even more. he frowns, oblivious to your embarrassment as he pulls away. "you seem to have a fever...have you taken any medication?"

you nod, face flushed. "um...yeah, i took some a little while ago. i really am fine, you don't need to—"

but he's already dashed off to who knows where, the sound of rummaging through cabinets and water running easily heard from down the hall. he returns a moment later with a cold wet rag, wrung out for your use. he stares at you awkwardly for a moment before handing it to you. "...here."

you give him a soft smile and take it from him, gratefully draping the rag over your forehead with a content sigh. "whew. that feels...a lot better, actually...thank you. the cold feels nice."

he nods, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. "do you...need anything else? can i perhaps make you something?"

you bite back the urge to snort. "what, like cook? you know how to cook?" 

his expression changes, and if you didn't know any better, you'd say he was nearly pouting. "i'm not incompetent. of course i can cook. though i'll admit, it isn't particularly my favorite thing in the world. its not like i have any need for food in the first place."

you let out a soft chuckle. that's right...he doesn't need to eat. strange. he seemed awfully happy back when you made him that almond tofu...well, as happy as he can get, at least. he's so pissy all the time.

you nod at his question. "i was gonna make myself some soup earlier, but..." you shrug. "i've been stuck in bed all day and never actually got around to it."

"soup..." he gives you a single nod as he walks away back into your kitchen. oh, jeez. here we go...you call out a thank you as he leaves, really hoping he wasn't lying when he said he could cook. you can hear the opening of cabinets as he rummages through your stuff, looking for everything he needs.

a moment later, you call out to him again. "hey, xiao?" 

he stops what he's doing and the noises pause, perking up at the sound of his name. "yes?"

you smile softly. "please don't burn my house down."

© lumitoiile. please do not copy, steal, translate, or edit my work.

[snuggerudsz]

NAP TIME AND BABY FEVER l QH43

SUMMARY: Quinn comes home to his wife and children napping, and it leads to a very important talk.

PAIRING: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hi!! I'm on such a Quinn phase always right now. And dad!Quinn actually owns my heart, so I needed to write some more for him. I don't know why the kids are always sleeping when I write these, but I have more dad!Quinn coming out soon, pinky promise. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. Likes and reblogs are always welcomed. Thank you for reading!!! <3333

The house was silent when Quinn got home. It was peaceful and quiet. That’s never a good sign with children, he thought, worried. If there’s one thing having children taught Quinn Hughes it is that silence is never a good sign. Upon entering the house, he felt immediately unsettled, his eyes darting around, searching for the little ones, who usually came running into his arms, celebrating his return as if he hadn’t left only a few hours ago. 

The defenseman left his equipment bag in the foyer, throwing his keys on the table and hastily taking off his shoes, hurrying up the stairs, looking for a sign of life from his wife and children. Worried, Quinn was skipping steps. He goes into your shared room immediately feeling his heart full. Quinn opened the door to the bedroom quietly and saw his wife, sleeping peacefully in the middle with their two children, Oliver and Aurora, snuggled up against her body. He looked over, a soft smile on his face, mentally wondering how was it possible to live such a good life, surrounded by so much love. Sometimes Quinn still couldn't believe this was his life. Not even his wildest dreams would come close to reality.

He hesitated for a moment, watching the peaceful picture before him. Taking a deep breath, he slowly stepped into the room, carefully made his way over to the bed, and knelt down, carefully brushing a strand of hair from your face. Quinn got up, preparing to turn away and let them rest when you stirred awake, sleepy eyes fluttering open. A bit confused, you quickly took in your surroundings, your gaze finding your husband's. You smiled up at him sleepily and beckoned him closer, doing your best to not wake up the children.

Holding out his hand, Quinn helped you get up without disrupting the two kids. You smiled at him gratefully as he guided the both of you out of the bedroom.

You and Quinn tiptoe downstairs to the kitchen, sitting at the table, drinking some tea. Quinn told you about his day, sharing the stories of the rink, the fun of living out his dreams, and also the hardships of being the captain; you talk about your day at home, telling him about the kids and about how far you've already gotten in the writing of your new book. The two of you stay there, laughing and joking as the afternoon sun casts golden light across the room.

Quinn looked at you with a loving gaze. He could feel a wave of emotion rush through him. Having that sweet moment with you, after seeing you and the children huddled up together had filled him with a longing he couldn't quite explain. He had thought about it before, but never seriously. Now, though, he couldn't help but imagine another kid. Another little one, the perfect mix of the both of you. The thought itself made him smile.

“What do you think about having another baby?” Quinn questioned suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Are you thinking about it?” You answer, looking back at your husband, waiting for his answer.

It’d be an utter lie to say you hadn’t thought about it, truth be told. Both of the kids had friends with baby siblings and you could feel the want for another one deep inside you, missing the baby days. Besides, the sight of Quinn with his teammates' babies always made your mind go blank, full of sinful thoughts. 

“I just,” The defenseman starts, unsurely, “I wouldn't be against having another kid if you're up for it.” He said shyly, almost afraid of your response.

You smiled softly, eyes sparkling in the light of the kitchen. Leaning in, you've kissed him sweetly, voice warm and affectionate, slightly flirty. “I'd love to have another baby with you, Mr. Hughes”

Quinn grinned, eyes full of relief and surprise at his wife's answer. “There’s no one else I’d rather be the mother of my children, Mrs. Hughes,” He answers, the same flirty tone you’d used.

He rises from the table, pulling you with him. He held you close, sharing a few more kisses. They stood in the kitchen, the same kitchen where they had shared so many memories together, holding each other and dreaming about the possibilities that lay ahead of them. They both knew that their family was about to get a little bigger, and they couldn't wait. The room was filled with a different kind of joy, one that was shared between two people who loved each other deeply and were excited for the future.