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punkshort · 6 months ago

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Roommates | 7. jack and jill

Pairing: pornstar!joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You and Joel organize Tommy and Maria's bachelor and bachelorette party together, making it the first time you've spoken to each other since you moved out.

Chapter Warnings: language, discussions revolving mental health and therapy, insecurity issues, anxiety, angst, alcohol and food consumption, idiots in love but won't admit it, cigarette use, one bed couch trope

WC: 6.8K

Series Masterlist

Five Months Later

Everything was fine. Everything was going to be fine. There was no need to be nervous.

Okay, so you were going back to the house for the very first time since you moved out. You didn't count the time last month when you idled in the driveway in your car, waiting to pick Maria up to go to her dress fitting. You avoided it as much as you could, but eventually she asked you to come over to help with wedding planning. She wanted to look over the seating chart and because it was so big and she insisted on making a physical floor plan instead of a digital one, she guilted you into coming to the house.

You didn't have the nerve to ask if Joel would be there, but when you pulled up to the house, your stomach doing cartwheels and threatening to bring up your breakfast, Joel's truck was gone.

Relief and disappointment flooded you all at once.

When you approached the front door, your hand hovered over the doorknob. Should you knock? Do you just walk in? You stood there a minute too long, going back and forth, undecided, until the door swung open with Maria standing on the other side.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know."

She rolled her eyes and opened the door wider. "Don't be weird," she told you as you slid past her into the familiar hall to kick off your sneakers.

Although the house was generally the same, it felt different now.

"Is anyone home?" you asked timidly as you followed her into the kitchen to grab some drinks.

"Tommy's got work," she replied, pulling a bottle of wine from the fridge. You took a deep breath and inwardly groaned. She was really going to make you work for it.

"And... Joel?"

She stopped and looked at you like you were speaking another language. "Have you still not spoken to him?"

You chewed on your lower lip and her shoulders sagged.

"C'mon, you promised us you would work things out before you left."

"We will! I've just been... busy, I guess."

"It's been months. You need to talk to him," she scolded, brushing past you as she headed to the dining room table where her seating chart was all spread out. "We're getting close to the big day and you guys need to plan our Jack and Jill."

You cocked an eyebrow at her and took the glass she extended your way. "Jack and Jill?"

"Yeah, y'know, where the bachelor and bachelorette parties join into one big party?" You must have looked confused because she frowned and popped her hand on her hip. "I mentioned this three months ago."

"I know, I know, I just forgot."

"You need to get your shit together. You're my maid of honor! I need you."

"I will, I promise," you said firmly, taking a sip of wine. "I'll text him tomorrow and I'll set something up so we can start planning."

She eyed you up for a moment before dropping into a chair with a sigh. "Thanks. Sorry, I know this is tough but you guys gotta work things out. You're both too important to us."

"We will. Don't even give it another thought." You sat down across from her and glanced around while she opened up a notebook with her guest list. "So, where is he?"

"Well, if you would have called him in the past five months, you would know he moved out."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. "When?"

"Like, two months ago, I think."

"Good. That's... good. Good for him."

"He bought a house."

You nearly choked on your wine. "He did?"

She nodded and bit back a grin. "A lot of things have changed. You'd be surprised."

"What's that mean?" you asked with a frown. She just shrugged.

"You'll have to talk to him and find out."

You tossed a piece of popcorn across the table at her and she giggled. "Enough about Joel. Let's get down to business. Like where am I going to put my Aunt Cathie when she refuses to speak to anyone on my side of the family?"

You tapped your chin and looked down at the poster. "Kitchen?"

In hindsight, picking a coffee shop was a bad idea. You were nervous enough as it was, the last thing you needed was extra caffeine. But still you found yourself sitting at a small table by the window twenty minutes before you were supposed to meet Joel, tapping your foot anxiously on the tile floor and turning around every time one of the doors opened.

To kill time, you stared down at your texts from earlier in the week, rereading them over and over, trying to pick up on his energy so you could get an idea of what you were walking into.

Hey

Then, two painful hours later:

Hey

I was hoping we could meet up sometime soon if you're free? Maria not so subtly pointed out we need to plan their Jack and Jill party.

You remembered at the time, the little text bubbles appeared and disappeared over and over, as if he were changing his mind until he finally sent:

Sure. Thursday?

Thursday works. Java Joint on third?

I can swing by after work around 4

Okay - looking forward to it :)

Then... nothing.

Maybe the smiley face was overkill.

You drained the last of your iced latte and got up to throw it in the trash. When you sat back down at your table, a flurry of activity caught your attention through the window. Three girls were bouncing on their heels and giggling into their palms, grabbing each other's shoulders with their phones in their hands as they spoke to none other than Joel fucking Miller. He had his sunglasses on and a white Henley shirt, the material stretching across his broad chest and arms. Paired with the confident smirk on his face, he looked devastatingly good. You watched with a twist of envy in your chest as the girls all took selfies with his arm wrapped around their shoulders before he finally jutted his thumb towards the coffee shop and gave them a final wave, turning on his heel and then heading in your direction. Once his back was turned, the girls collectively lost their shit while looking down at their pictures, but you couldn't pay them any more attention because Joel was about to walk through the door.

Butterflies burst in your stomach when he pushed his sunglasses on top of his head, locking eyes with you, and suddenly it felt like no time had passed at all. Memories of watching movies with your feet tucked under his thigh and making dinners together flashed before your eyes while you forced yourself to give him a shy wave.

He simply nodded in return and motioned towards the counter, indicating he was getting something to drink, and when his gaze finally left yours in favor of reading the menu, you let yourself fully take him in. He looked really fucking good. Something was different but you couldn't put your finger on it. Healthier, maybe? Or maybe he just looked happier now without all the stress you brought into his life.

He must have said something flirty to the barista because she giggled and the tips of her ears turned red and, after he paid, he sauntered down the counter, casually resting his elbow on the hard surface while scrolling his phone.

From the look of it, he was no where near as nervous as you felt, which just made your anxiety spike more.

The barista slid his coffee across the counter with a wide smile and he gave her a wink before turning to weave his way through the tables. You straightened up as he approached and tried to look normal.

"Hi."

He sat down across from you, putting his coffee down with a grunt. "Hey."

Your heart was practically wedged in your throat and your fingers wouldn't stop tapping nervously on the table.

"H-how are things?"

He shrugged and took a sip from his cup. "Alright. Busy."

He was looking everywhere but your eyes. You supposed you deserved that, but it still stung.

"How's work?"

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "We don't gotta do this, y'know."

"Do what?"

"This," he said, waving his finger back and forth between you. "We can be civil for the sake of Tommy and Maria but we don't gotta pretend this is somethin' it ain't."

You tried to hide the hurt from your eyes but he must have clocked it because he pinched the bridge of his nose and made a frustrated sound.

"Don't gimme that look."

"I'm not," you replied defiantly, staring down at your fingers now. "I'm sorry, Joel. For all of it."

"You made that pretty damn clear when you left."

Your eyes snapped up to him as he took another sip from his coffee and looked around the café. Then your gaze fell onto the writing on his cup: a name with a phone number and a little heart and your stomach rolled but you took a deep breath, just like you practiced, and let it go.

"I didn't leave because I regretted it," you whispered. His eyes finally landed on you, patiently waiting for you to speak again. "I left because I couldn't stay away from you."

His eyes softened but he remained quiet, so you took a shaky breath in and continued.

"I needed time to think over what I did and why I did it and what I really want," you nervously began to shred your straw wrapper as you spoke. "And I couldn't do that with you so goddamn close because there's just something about you that drives me fucking crazy."

His lips twitched. "Crazy in what way?"

You sighed and slumped down in your chair. "Crazy as in every time I see you I want to kiss you and laugh with you and tell you about my day and just... be near you."

"Then why the hell didn't you wanna try 'n make it work?"

"Because of your job," you groaned pathetically, knowing full well you sounded like a broken record. "It's not your fault, Joel, it's mine. I have... issues. But I'm working on it. I've started seeing a therapist-"

"What issues?" he pressed.

"Jealousy, insecurity, self-doubt, anxiety... you name it."

He took a deep breath and readjusted in his chair so he was facing you instead of the café. "I didn't know you were goin' through all that. Is it helpin'?" he asked softly, and for the first time you thought you heard the Joel you used to know.

"Yeah, but it's hard," you replied. "It takes a lot of work to change the way you think and react to something. But I'm trying. Really, I am. Because-" you took a deep breath and raked your fingers through your hair. "No one makes me happy the way you made me happy. And I really, really fucking miss you." Tears welled up in your eyes that you quickly blinked away. Crying in the middle of a coffee shop was not on your list of things to do that day.

"What are you tryin' to tell me?" he asked, dropping his head so he could catch your eye. "Hm? Say it."

"I know I blew my chance with you and I don't deserve another one, but can we please try to be friends again?"

His gaze bounced back and forth between your eyes, studying your expression before slowly straightening up in his seat. "Friends?"

You nodded weakly, your lips pressed into a thin line.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he considered it.

"What'll that look like?"

You frowned and gave him a little shrug. "Joke around. Inquire about each other's lives. Help each other out. Be supportive of one another."

He nodded along as you listed everything off with a confused look on your face, unclear as to why he was asking you to define friendship. "That's it?"

"What do you mean?"

"That's all you want?"

And there it was again: that undeniable pull, that undercurrent of tension bonding you together, making you question every word and every look.

"Yes," you finally answered quietly. It was a lie, of course, but you were too scared to put yourself fully out there. You already felt vulnerable enough with what you confessed and you couldn't stand the rejection if you told him the truth.

He ticked his jaw to the side and you could have sworn in that moment, he saw right through you. But maybe you were wrong, because his next words were -

"Alright, then. Let's be friends."

Your eyes lit up as he pulled out his phone and opened his calendar app.

"Thank you, Joel."

He nodded without looking up. "What weekend were you thinkin' for this party?"

"So you two kissed and made up?"

You scowled at Maria over the aisle at a local florist.

"We did not kiss, thank you."

She grinned and rolled her eyes before picking up a deep pink carnation. "It's a figure of speech, but you never know."

"Things are fine. I mean, they aren't like they were before, I doubt it ever will be, but you have nothing to worry about. We can be in the same room together without anything getting weird. I don't like that one," you added when she picked up a red poppy. She plunked it back down in the bucket and kept browsing.

"Good. And how's the party planning?"

"Really good, we're almost all done. I just need to pick up the shirts and the favors and we should be good to go."

"I can't thank you enough for organizing this for us, I'm so excited! It's gonna be the best weekend ever," she gushed, picking up a few other flowers in similar shades of pink.

"Well, hopefully your actual wedding will be a better weekend, but I appreciate the sentiment," you giggled.

"How are we doing ladies? Do you have any questions?" asked the florist, an older man who was wearing a Hawaiian shirt. Maria launched into a laundry list of questions and you grinned before leaning against the register and pulling out your phone. You had to actively stop yourself from opening up your text chain with Joel. In the past, aside from Maria, he was your person. He was the one you always texted silly things to whenever you were bored or lonely. Even though he agreed to be friends again, it had yet to feel the same. In fact, you still hadn't seen him since that day in the coffee shop. You had managed to do all the planning for the Jack and Jill over the phone, but you didn't want to tell Maria that. Something told you she would want you to try harder with him and you were too nervous to stick your neck out there. The shame you harbored for the way everything fell apart after the camping trip was too great.

"You wanna grab lunch?" she asked once she was done going over in excruciating detail the flowers she wanted in each bouquet and centerpiece.

"God, yes."

There was a nearby Mexican place you both loved so you ordered a couple margaritas while you waited for your food.

"Can I ask you a question that I've been dying to know the answer to but wanted to get you loosened up on booze first?"

You quirked an eyebrow at Maria and nodded hesitantly.

"Have you talked to Sam?"

You closed your eyes and groaned.

"Very briefly, only once. About a month after... you know."

She sipped her drink and nodded. "And?"

"It went about as well as you could expect. I tried to apologize but he was so hurt, I think I just made things worse."

"Thank god he got that new job. The timing couldn't have been better," she said, then winced when she saw the look in your face. "I'm sorry, I just meant at least you didn't have to worry about work being a factor. You had enough going on as it was."

"I know what you meant, it's okay," you assured her.

Maria stirred her drink with her straw for a moment, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence while you listened to Latin music over the speakers and blankly watched some soccer match that was muted on the TV over the bar.

"Can I ask you another messy question?" she finally asked. You grinned and shrugged.

"Go for it."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat and dropped your gaze to the table. "What was I gonna say? 'Oh, by the way, I'm fucking your boyfriend's brother behind my boyfriend's back?' You would have slapped me."

She laughed and leaned back in her seat to make room for the sizzling fajitas that got placed down in front of you both. She eagerly picked one up and began to pour salsa and sour cream on top before she spoke again.

"I don't think I would have slapped you, but I definitely would have made you to dump Sam and get with Joel."

"Yeah, that's not something I would have wanted to hear," you told her with a laugh.

"So," she said, wiping some sour cream from the corner of her mouth, "you didn't wanna date him because of his job, but fucking him was okay?"

You paused your chewing and gave her a blank stare. "What happened didn't make a ton of sense, but I can tell you this much: I was in deep denial over what was happening with Joel. I told myself it was just a friends with benefits thing and it didn't mean anything, but there's just something about him that I can't describe. Like we have some connection that's impossible to ignore, or something? Even the annoying things about him make me smile. I know I sound crazy, I'll shut up," you said when you noticed the incredulous look on Maria's face.

"Girl, you love him."

You balked and nearly choked on your taco. "No."

"Yes."

You shook your head and took a big sip from your margarita. "I care about him deeply but I'm not in love with him."

Maria widened her eyes in disbelief and looked back down at her food. "Okay... just sounds to me like something more."

You quickly changed the subject to her wedding dress, which easily distracted her while you let what she said about Joel marinate. Were you in love with Joel? Is that why you couldn't let Sam in? Were you that blind?

In the end, you decided to let it go. It didn't matter, anyway. What you had with Joel was over, and after the way things ended, you couldn't imagine a situation where he would ever want to give you another chance, assuming you could get past all your insecurities surrounding his profession. Therapy was helping, but you had a long way to go, and ultimately you were seeking help to better yourself overall, not to make things work with Joel.

Maria had told you Joel bought a house but for some reason, you imagined it was a small ranch house somewhere, not a gorgeous two-story relatively new build. Or so, it looked new as you walked up the driveway and stared at the new black roof and white siding. You could feel your heart beginning to beat faster the closer you got to his front porch, gripping the brown paper bag at your side with sweaty fingers.

Stop it, you're just leaving the shirts at his door, there's no need to be nervous.

You climbed the creaky wooden steps and looked at the two Adirondack chairs with a table in between and suddenly you felt a pit form in your stomach. Two?

Why hadn't it occurred to you before now that he could be seeing someone? What if he was bringing her as a date to the wedding?

Stop. It. Drop the bag and fucking go.

You nestled the paper bag behind one of the chairs and turned to leave when you heard the front door squeak open.

"What're you doin'?"

You closed your eyes and silently cursed to yourself before spinning around with a forced smile on your face, only to have it immediately slip with you saw Joel had greeted you completely shirtless with his hair a disheveled mess.

Shit.

"Hey, I'm, uh, just dropping off the shirts for the guys," you pointed to the paper bag, his eyes following your finger.

He opened the screen door, stepping out to pick it up and you had to look away. He was wearing basketball shorts and the material clung around his bulge just a little too well.

"Why didn't you just knock?"

"Um," you took a breath and met his gaze, refusing to let your eyes drop lower than his neck. "Didn't wanna bother you."

"It's no bother. You wanna come in?" he asked. You finally picked up on the gravelly sound to his voice once you were able to ignore his smooth, broad chest.

"Did you just wake up?"

He shrugged and gave you half a smirk while he held the door open.

"Worked late."

"Ah," you replied, gaze dropping to the porch while you rocked back and forth on your heels. Work.

"You comin' in or not? I'm lettin' flies in."

"Uh, sure," you finally decided, sneaking past him, purposely holding your breath so you wouldn't breathe in his intoxicating scent.

His front door opened into his living room, which was about how you expected it to look: a dark couch with a matching chair surrounding a glass coffee table in front of a big screen TV with green and blue plastic clamshell video game cases scattered on the floor.

"Want somethin' to drink?" he asked, brushing past you as he ambled into his kitchen. You followed, noting his house seemed to lack... something.

"Water's fine."

It was bare. That's what it was. It hit you when you were in the kitchen. He had all the essentials but there was no warmth, no decorations, no pictures.

"Did you just move in?" you asked, then thanked him when he handed you a bottle of water.

"'Bout three months ago."

"Oh," you replied before taking a slow sip of water, your eyes darting around the sparse kitchen. "It's nice," you finally said when you pulled the bottle from your lips.

At least you could be sure he wasn't living with a girl. His home practically screamed bachelor pad.

"Thanks. How's your ma?" he asked before picking up a half drank mug of coffee.

You leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed your arms. "She's good. She's already found a new boyfriend. And here I thought I was doing her a favor by moving in and keeping her company," you said with a soft laugh. "Now I feel like I'm in the way of her exciting social life."

Joel nodded and sat down at the kitchen table with a grunt, his legs spread wide as he leaned back into the chair.

"Been meanin' to apologize to you," he said, staring down at his coffee sitting on the table. "Shoulda been there to help you move out, or at least say bye. I'm real sorry 'bout that."

That took you by surprise.

"You don't have anything to apologize for," you said immediately with a shake of your head. "It would have been too painful, anyway."

Joel took a deep breath through his nose. "Yeah, reckon that's why I bailed that day."

Neither of you said anything for a moment, both of you thinking back to that week when everything fell apart.

"I'm so sorry for what I did to you, Joel," you said quietly. He frowned and looked up.

"What you did to me?"

"Yeah. For pulling you into my mess and hurting you. It was never my intention, but I recognize it was my fault. I started it. I kissed you. I came to your room that day. It's all on me, okay?" You looked at him with raw pain in your eyes and he sighed.

"Darlin', if you didn't start it, I would've. It ain't all on you," he told you softly.

You nodded and you felt tears welling up in your eyes, so you dropped your gaze to the floor and pressed your lips into a thin line, trying to stifle your emotion, but Joel could see it.

"It was fun while it lasted though, huh?" he joked, then grinned when you laughed and swiped away a stray tear.

"Yeah," you sniffled with a smile.

Joel pursed his lips and looked back down at his mug, his middle finger gently tracing the lip of the ceramic when he asked, "you seein' anyone?"

You shook your head. "No. I think it's probably best I take some time to work on myself first."

The same question for him was on the tip of your tongue but you couldn't bring yourself to ask because if the answer was yes, you weren't sure you were ready to hear it.

"Well, anyway," he said with a slap to his thighs, "everythin' ready for tomorrow? Need me to do anythin'?"

You smiled and shook your head. "Just handle the guys and I'll handle the girls. I have all the money to pay the limo bus driver. Did you have enough for the booze?"

"Mhm, no problem there," Joel said after taking a sip from his now lukewarm coffee.

The goal was to bar crawl some local spots in downtown Austin and in between, party on the limo bus.

"Just make sure to have a good playlist ready so we can connect to the speakers on the bus," you told him as you headed for the front door.

"Y'leavin'?" he asked, getting up to follow you. You shrugged and slid your shoes back on.

"Yeah, unless there was something else?"

He scratched his beard while he struggled to come up with anything that might make you stay. It just felt too nice to have you around again and he didn't want it to end.

"No, nothin' else," he finally said. "See you tomorrow."

Back to the scene of the crime, you almost let slip, but fortunately common sense kicked in and said, "Tommy and Maria's, 8pm so you can help me pack up the bus before everyone arrives."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you jog down his porch steps, tossing one more wave over your shoulder before getting into your car. As he watched you drive away, he tried to stifle that familiar, desperate feeling he always felt whenever you left and forced himself to go back inside.

The party bus was already wild before it reached the end of the street. You just sat down after passing around Jell-O shots and making sure the snacks and waters you brought were readily available to the entire bus when Maria shoved a solo cup in your hand.

"What's this?" you asked over the roar coming from the speakers blaring AC/DC and the guys screaming along to the lyrics after they all did a toast to Tommy, throwing back shots of tequila.

"Jungle juice!" she replied with a grin. You took a sip and raised your eyebrows in surprise.

"Not bad!"

The lights on the bus dimmed and you looked up to find Joel playing around with the knobs at the front of the bus. Suddenly, brightly colored lights that lined the floor and roof of the bus turned on, painting everyone in a red glow that faded to orange then to all the colors of the rainbow.

"Come on, Tommy! Show us what you got!" one of Maria's bridesmaids yelled when Tommy stood up and leaned on the stripper pole in the middle of the floor for support when the bus took a turn.

"I ain't drunk enough yet, ladies!" he replied with a lopsided grin. Joel chuckled as he made his way back to his seat.

"What about you, Joel?" she asked, then all the groomsmen began whooping and pumping their fists, encouraging him, but he shook his head and sat down.

"Gotta pay me extra for that," he smirked. He brought his beer to his lips and glanced briefly in your direction before looking away.

The whole bus was wearing matching white shirts with Tommy and Maria's names printed on the back with the date of their wedding and a note at the bottom that, depending if you were a girl or a guy, said if found, please return me to the bride/groom.

On the front of the shirts was a big box where everyone could tally all the drinks and shots they had that evening with the sharpie necklaces you handed out as everyone boarded the bus. So far, most people had at least one drink or shot under their belts.

"Alright, who wants to play Tipsy Hoe?" you called out while holding up a stack of index cards. The bus cheered so you began to explain the rules. "We pick one card with a specific word on it that nobody's allowed to say. The person who says it first has to take a shot and then we pick another one."

Another of Maria's bridesmaids eagerly volunteered to pick the first card. You fanned them out as she carefully chose one from the middle and read it. "The word is Bride!" she announced, and half the bus collapsed into laughter.

"Take a shot, you can't say it! Just hold it up!" you giggled when she laughed and buried her face in her hands. "Okay, go again."

After taking a shot and drawing another tally mark on her shirt, she picked another card and this time, held it up for everyone to see: dress.

"What's that say? I can't read it?" Joel teased from the back, and she stuck out her tongue.

"Ha ha, not falling for it."

You sat back down and took a sip from your cup before leaning into Maria's side to take a few selfies only for them to come out completely blurry from the dim lighting, but you saved them anyway.

Joel brushed past the two of you to go to the front of the bus and direct the driver on where to drop the group off for the first bar, and as the bus slowed down, most people chugged the rest of their drinks and added a mark to their shirts before standing up and filing out the door.

"Jesus, Tommy, when'd you have four drinks?" Maria asked when she saw his shirt. He grinned and draped an arm around her shoulders.

"What can I say? The guys can be persuasive."

"Hey, don't you know that girl over there?" Joel asked when he suddenly appeared at your side with a cigarette hanging from his lips. He pointed over to a group of three girls standing right outside the bar with sparkly outfits on and heavy eyeshadow.

"Which one?"

"The one in the blue."

"The blue top or the blue dress?"

He smirked and shot you a wink before taking a deep drag of his cigarette. You groaned and slapped your palm to your face.

"I can't believe I fell for that."

He laughed, a plume of smoke rolling from his lips, then tossed the cigarette on the ground. "C'mon, I'll buy you the shot."

"It's the least you could do," you teased, following him inside past the bouncer. The bar was dark and really fucking loud as you weaved your way through the throngs of sweaty people until Joel managed to squeeze his way to the bar and flag down a bartender. While you waited for your drinks, you tried to locate the rest of the group, but the only people you saw were Maria and Tommy down at the other end of the bar with one other groomsman you didn't know very well.

"Bottoms up," Joel told you after handing you the shot and a mixed drink. You winced when you tossed it back, then handed him the empty glass. He pushed it back across the sticky bar along with his own empty shot glass then pointed to your shirt.

"Ah, right," you mumbled before uncapping the sharpie around your neck and scribbling a tick mark on the fabric. Joel stretched his own shirt out and you hesitated for just a second before drawing a quick mark on his shirt and tried not to focus too much on the sweat that had soaked through the collar already.

"You stayin' at Tommy and Maria's tonight?" he asked. He brought a bottle of beer to his lips and took a long sip but didn't take his eyes away from you.

"Yeah, I can't imagine driving home at this rate," you replied while motioning to your shirt with your free hand. He nodded and let his eyes drift around the room behind you, head nodding slightly to the beat of the music before he said, "Maybe we can watch a movie. Like old times."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. "You're staying over, too?"

He nodded again and took another drink as your heart fluttered nervously in your chest. Maria conveniently failed to mention he was planning on staying the night, as well. Where the hell did she expect you both to sleep when there was only one couch?

You scanned the bar and found her laughing at something Tommy was saying, waving his hands around dramatically as he told some story. Narrowing your eyes, you hoped she could feel the heat from your stare, but of course she was oblivious.

Just as you were about to reply to him about the movie, you felt someone's arm snake around your waist right before their overpowering cologne made you gag.

"You wanna dance?" a voice slurred in your ear, and you immediately twisted away from his sour breath and turned to face him. He wasn't with your group, just some other patron, and he looked completely wasted. A thin sheen of sweat covered his neck and face and his eyes looked glassy as he stared down at you, waiting for an answer.

"Uh, no thank you! I was just leaving."

"Aw, come on, just one dance?" the stranger pushed with a lopsided grin but it just made him look even more sloppy.

"She's with me," Joel said defensively before tugging you closer and tucking you under his arm. You could smell his deodorant and soap and it instantly transported you back in time to the point where you had to fight the urge to bury your face against his chest and breathe deep.

"My bad," the guy said, raising his hands defensively before walking away.

"Thanks," you said so softly you weren't sure he could hear you over the music, but he did. He dropped his arm and cleared his throat as you tried to create a bit of space between you again without being awkward, but it was hard to do.

"I hope you don't feel like you can't dance with other guys 'cause I'm here," he said.

"No, I know, I'm just not looking for... that right now," you assured him before taking a long sip from your drink and glancing around the bar.

"Right, you mentioned that," he replied. The topic of your love life caused a heavy silence to settle between you even though you were surrounded by noise. Right when you were about to make an excuse and leave, he spoke again.

"How's all that goin', by the way? Therapy?"

"It's... going okay," you said. What was he getting at?

He tossed back the rest of his beer and slid the empty across the bar.

"Okay enough to start datin' again soon?"

You swallowed nervously. Was he asking for a specific reason?

The look on your face made him switch gears because he grinned and shrugged. "Friends ask 'bout each other, right?"

Oh.

"They do."

He nodded, his smile faltering a moment when his gaze slid to your lips before he forced himself to look away. "C'mon, let's find the rest of the party." Then he took your hand and led you through the crowd.

Stop it, get it together, he's just being nice, like you asked, you told yourself. But you really, really hoped you were wrong.

"Here's some extra pillows and blankets," Maria sang gleefully with a shit eating grin.

"I can't believe you," you seethed quietly so Joel wouldn't hear you from downstairs.

"What? I forgot Tommy told Joel he could stay over," she said with a tipsy shrug.

"I'm half tempted to call an Uber."

"Don't you fucking dare. Now be an adult and go sleep with your ex," she giggled, giving your shoulder a shove to make you move towards the direction of the stairs.

"Hilarious," you replied dryly, but before you took another step she pulled you into a hug.

"Thank you so much for tonight, we had such a," she hiccuped before pulling away, "great time."

You blew her a kiss before giving her the finger. "Love you."

"Love you, too!" she practically shouted, and you turned around halfway down the stairs to shush her. She slapped her hands over her mouth and giggled before stumbling into her bedroom and shutting the door.

"Wha' the hell was she shoutin' for?" Joel asked groggily from his spot splayed out on the couch, remote control hanging limply from his fingers as he blinked at the TV, trying to clear his vision.

"Nothing. Here," you said, tossing him a pillow and blanket. He reached out to catch them but missed, then started to giggle when he accidentally slid from the couch onto the floor to pick them up. You grinned and threw yours on the other end of the couch and wandered into the kitchen, returning with two bottles of ice cold water. "Drink this," you said with a yawn. He took it and you plopped down on the other end of the couch while Joel flicked through title after title on one of the many streaming services Tommy and Maria had.

While Joel continued to browse, you shifted uncomfortably before setting down your water and reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. With practiced ease, you pulled it out from under your shirt without having to remove any clothes and tossed it on the floor. Joel's eyes widened when he saw it and looked at you.

"Don't get any ideas, I just can't sleep in a bra."

He smirked before picking a romcom and settling in under his blanket. "Next you gonna tell me you can't sleep with panties on?"

You snorted and felt your cheeks flush but thankfully the lights in the living room were off, leaving only the glow from the television to light the room.

"You wish."

The alcohol was making both of you way flirtier than you intended to be, so you shut up. You watched the movie hazily for a while, laughing softly at Hugh Grant's charismatic humor. It was quiet for so long that you had assumed Joel fell asleep until he suddenly spoke again.

"This's nice."

You rolled your head to the side and smiled at him. "Yeah, it is."

He smiled back, his eyes bright from the glow from the television, cheeks still a little pink from the booze as he looked you up and down. "C'mere."

You pinched your eyebrows together. "Why?" you asked slowly. He rolled his eyes and waved you over.

"Jus' get your ass over here."

With a sigh, you scooted over to his end of the couch and once you got close enough, he threw his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. You let out a quiet oof when the side of your face came in contact with his chest, but god the way he smelled had you reeling for the second time that night. Even with the lingering scent of cigarette smoke and spilled liquor, he still smelled amazing. He smelled like him. A comforting smell you missed so much in the past five months that it almost hurt to have it back again.

His hand gently stroked your back as you watched the movie. The steady thrum of his heart beating against your ear combined with the alcohol and his warmth made your eyelids droop and before you knew it, you were out like a light. When Joel realized you were asleep, he looked down at you and smiled before turning off the television and slowly rotating you both so you were laying (albeit, scrunched) together along the couch. His arm remained wrapped around you and your face was buried against his chest with one of your legs draped over one of his and everything finally felt right again.

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buckets-and-trees · 5 months ago

Text

Pull the String

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark and rough Nomad!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Word Count: 3.7k Summary: Friday, September 28, 2017. You have to live a normal life after meeting a larger than life figure. It's doable, and you're not stuck in summer dreams, but you do think of him from time to time. Another encounter in the Exiled Nomad Series.

Content/Warnings: explicit smut, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, kissing, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex, overstimulation, hint of praise kink, internal ejaculation, overstimulation, emotional unavailability, a broken Nomad who thinks he's fine but definitely is not

Author Notes: I wanted to finish this for your birthday proper, @stargazingfangirl18, but alas, only managed for birthday week. It's not a standalone, so it technically won't fit into your Birthday Bonenanza, but I did use a prompt from your list (bolded dialogue). Credit to @biteofcherry for helping me flesh out Mark from accounting a little bit.

You blinked and then read the text message again.

Something’s come up, sorry, have to cancel tonight.

It was only twenty minutes before Mark was supposed to pick you up for dinner.

A third date dinner.

YOU: Are you okay?

You typed and sent the quick text back.

You saw the three dots that indicated his typing, then they disappeared. You frowned. This was really unlike him. Mark had been nothing but reliable and a gentleman since you’d met him. He worked in the accounting firm on one of the other floors of your office building, and you had seen each other a few times at the coffee shop on the main floor in the morning. He was smart, funny without being a goof. You felt wholly normal around him.

And after having your world rocked on earthquake levels by Captain America over the 4th of July holiday, normal was what you wanted.

MARK: Everything’s fine, but we should probably call this off.

“What?” you couldn’t help actually exclaiming out loud.

You scanned up and down over your texts.

YOU: Did I do something wrong or misread the situation?

You really didn’t think that you had. In fact, you were sure of it, but you’d let him explain just in case.

It had been a few weeks, and the texts had ebbed and flowed naturally. After your second date last Sunday, you’d exchanged a kiss that had been modest but had enough heat to it that it left you starting to think about more. And last night the texts between the two of you had gotten a little spicier than any previous exchanges. Nothing vulgar, but flirty enough that you had shaved your legs and had been debating all day over what to wear.

In your silk robe, makeup finished, and hair nearly done, apparently you didn’t need to make any wardrobe decisions other than slipping into a comfy t-shirt and leggings now.

MARK: No, it’s nothing you did, and I hope we can just be friends.

Your jaw dropped and you threw your phone across the room.

Friends?

You abandoned your mirror, no need to finish getting ready at this point, and went to pick up your phone.

Fuck Mark.

But you opened your text thread with him one final time.

YOU: No hard feelings, if it’s over it’s over, and we can be cordial if we run into each other, but honestly I’m not looking for more platonic friends.

Run-on sentence aside, you felt good about the text after you hit send, and you promptly blocked Mark’s number and deleted all the texts.

And what you said was mostly true.

You actually could use some more platonic friends in this town you’d lived in for less than a year, but you weren’t looking to be friends with guys who did but then didn’t want to date you.

But well into your thirties, you were so used to and exhausted by the runaround of talking, of the dating apps, of the first dates that fizzled into nothings – first dates that you rarely even agreed to go on anymore because it usually turned out to be a waste of time with men who were too boring or too horny. For a moment Mark had been a breath of fresh air, normal and nice and endearing.

And apparently not worth the time and effort you had sunk into the beginning of the blossoming relationship either.

Even at that thought, you were glad you had already followed your self-imposed rule of deleting messages, because you already had the itch to go back and re-read, and so it was good you had removed that temptation. No need to torture yourself.

You turned on your favorite album, cranked up the music, and ordered delivery from your favorite Italian restaurant with tiramisu and extra garlic bread.

You would watch your favorite movie, indulge in your favorite food, and later put yourself to bed with another chapter of the spicy romance novel you were reading and a nice session with your favorite vibrator.

Fuck Mark.

The app said your dinner would arrive in thirty-five minutes, so you slipped into leggings and one of your old comfy t-shirts, and flopped onto the couch to wait, the song from the opening credits of the movie making you feel just a little bit better.

At this stage of life, it was just annoying that Mark had called it off. Make it through dates three and four and people your age were reasonably sure they were headed down the relationship road together. At least that’s how you operated. You knew yourself enough that you weren’t dating someone to try and figure out who you were like you maybe had at times when you were younger, trying to live up to some expectation of society. You were busy enough that your free time was precious, and so you didn’t go on frivolous dates. Most important, as seemingly everyone around you had peeled off and gotten married while you remained perpetually single, you had to figure out if you could be happy alone, and you’d spent time to figure that out and truly find happiness. It was lonely sometimes, but overall you had built a good life, put your time into things that really satisfied you.

When you realized you were more annoyed at having to start over again than over losing Mark, you sighed and realized that was both a good and a bad sign. Good because you clearly weren’t going to be hung up on Mark, but bad because he really hadn’t meant much – you’d just wanted him to.

A small ache in your chest resurfaced.

The person you did miss was Steve Rogers.

And you held no bitterness there – it had been so clear for both of you that it was a summer holiday fling – but you did have some leftover longing.

Who could blame you?

When The Avengers had come together in New York in 2012, you had swooned over Thor, but there was something so steady, charming, and trustworthy about Captain America down to the bone that your admiration had developed into quite the crush. You knew the parasocial relationship that you and the rest of the world developed with him over the years was synthetic. It was fun and harmless.

But then you had met the real Steve Rogers in the flesh – and spent time flesh to flesh with him over the Fourth of July weekend.

The days you spent with him had been both intense and surreal. You had context to who he was from history books and the public persona, but the man behind the shield was naturally and infinitely more than what screens, books, and social media could ever portray. It was clear that being in exile from his country and on the run from most of the world due to their signing of the Sokovia Accords had changed him. But as you talked and spent time together, you suspected that losing his freedom had also freed him in some ways from the burdens of expectation and the colossal mantle and responsibilities of being Captain America.

He hadn’t given up his sense of duty to still help when and where he could, but he could simply be Steve.

In the nearly two days and two nights you’d spent together almost constantly in each other’s company, you’d shared so much, talking over things that were both trivial and meaningful as the conversations evolved. You’d spent time in serene silence together as well.

All of that felt stolen out of the pages of a book on its own.

But then there had also been the sex.

So much super soldier sex.

Rough, intense, sensual, exquisite, and all-consuming.

All of it – the physical and emotional – had been more intimate than anything else you had ever experienced.

Logically you had also come to realize that the pure fact that you both knew the time was so limited and fleeting undoubtedly allowed both of you to suspend boundaries and open up in ways you wouldn’t have if it had been a more conventional coupling up situation.

Yet it didn’t take anything away from the memory of those days together.

Logically you also knew no one would ever compare to him, and you had been realistic about that.

But tonight you wouldn’t worry about letting your thoughts drift to Steve.

It was more difficult to think of the emotional, and so your mind diverted quickly to the physical.

The way he had looked at you, touched you, kissed you, pleasured you. The feel of his cock inside of you. His fingers and his mouth ripping more orgasms from you than…

“No,” you scolded yourself out loud and groaned. “It’s too early on a Friday night to be thinking about sex with Steve.”

Not that it did any good to say so.

You pressed your thighs together, feeling the ache the worst at your core.

No longer paying any attention whatsoever to the movie you had going on the tv, it was the doorbell ringing with your food delivery that saved you from the spiral of desperately horny thoughts you were caught in.

There were two bags deposited on your doorstep, and you snatched them both up eagerly. The larger brown paper bag was emanating some heat, so you opened the smaller one first, assuming correctly that it held your tiramisu. You snatched a spoon from your silverware drawer and went for a sweet, indulgent bite. A little spoiling before you turned to the savory feast.

That bite made you moan in satisfaction. You savored the way the cream was perfectly smooth and balanced with the coffee and liqueur-soaked ladyfingers.

Your doorbell rang again, and you rushed over to open the door, assuming the delivery person probably realized they had forgotten a precious part of your meal – likely the garlic bread, and that would have been a sin!

Spoon still in your mouth, you opened the door and then froze.

Wearing the same aviators and non-descript baseball cap, Steve Rogers stood before you, as if it hadn’t been nearly three months since your once-in-a-lifetime encounter.

This couldn’t be real.

And yet his aggressive grip on your hip as he backed you into your place and kicked the door closed behind him was irrefutable.

Your heart raced as Steve pressed you against the wall, his body flush against yours. Your spoon clattered to the floor. He discarded his sunglasses on the table by the door and then captured your lips in a searing kiss. His beard scratched your skin, a delicious friction that sent shivers down your spine. Your lips parted for the demands of his hungry kiss, and when he licked into your mouth, his tongue slid against yours slowly for a moment, and you knew he was tasting the sugary sweetness of the bite you’d just savored, savoring it himself.

When he finally broke away, you gasped for air. "Steve? What are you doing here?"

"I shouldn't be here," he murmured against your neck, his breath hot on your skin. "But I couldn't stay away."

Your mind reeled. This couldn't be happening. "Isn’t it risky for you to come back?"

Steve's thumb traced your lower lip. "Some risks are worth taking."

You melted into his touch, your body quickly abandoning reason. You yanked him closer by his shirt collar, kissing him fiercely. You removed the hat that was already askew on his head and tangled your fingers in his hair. It was longer now than when you'd last seen him. He groaned, lifting you effortlessly and carrying you to the couch.

Steve laid you down on the cushions, his body covering yours as he kissed a trail down your neck. His beard scratched deliciously against your sensitive skin, making you shiver. Your hands roamed over his broad shoulders, feeling the tight muscles beneath his shirt.

"I've thought about this so much since I left," Steve murmured against your collarbone. His fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your stomach.

You arched into his touch, desperate for more. "Me too," you breathed, that confession opening a dangerous door you had tried to keep closed inside of you.

Steve's hands pushed your shirt up, exposing your breasts. His eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you. Slowly, reverently, he lowered his head to take a nipple into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue made you gasp and clutch at his neck. He gave it a hard, long suck before letting his tongue swirl around your nipple again, laving at it as his hand kneaded the other. It was all you could do to moan, arch into him more, and hold onto him like a lifeline.

Steve kissed his way down your body, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your leggings, looking up at you with a nearly feral hunger in his eye, something dark that sent a thrill of both adrenaline and desire through you, and you lifted your hips because no one had ever looked at you with so much need.

Steve slowly peeled your leggings down, his eyes never leaving yours as he revealed more of your bare skin. You shivered as the cool air hit your exposed flesh, goosebumps rising on your thighs. Steve's large hands caressed up your legs, leaving trails of heat in their wake. He settled his broad shoulders between your legs, spreading you wide beneath him. He kissed the inside of your thigh, then nipped at your tender flesh, making you yelp, before he soothed it with his tongue and then another kiss, even softer than the first. Then he shifted, and you could feel his hot breath against your most intimate parts, already slick for him. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until he placed an open-mouthed kiss to you there, and you sucked in a breath.

"God, I've missed your taste," he growled.

Without warning, he licked a long, slow stripe up your slit, making you gasp and arch off the couch. His strong hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for him as he explored you with his tongue. He circled your clit teasingly before sucking it into his mouth, the pressure making you cry out in pleasure.

Steve's tongue was relentless, alternating between broad, flat strokes and precise flicks that had you writhing beneath him. He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them to stroke your inner walls as he continued his assault on your clit. The dual sensations quickly had you climbing towards your peak.

"Steve," you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair.

He hummed against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your thighs began to tremble as you teetered on the edge of orgasm. Steve redoubled his efforts, his fingers pumping faster as his tongue flicked rapidly over your sensitive bud.

With a cry, you came undone, your body shuddering as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. Steve worked you through your climax, lapping up your release until you gently pushed his head away, oversensitive.

But he growled and bit at the inside of your other thigh. “I’m not done eating my fill of this pretty cunt yet.”

You gasped at Steve's words, a fresh wave of arousal pulsing through you despite your recent orgasm. His blue eyes were dark with desire as he looked up at you from between your thighs.

"Steve," you breathed, torn between wanting more and feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of sensation.

He seemed to sense your hesitation. "Color?" he asked, his voice husky but almost gentle.

"Green," you replied. How could you deny him? This? When you assumed you would never see him again.

Steve's lips curled into a wicked smile. "Good girl," he purred, before diving back in.

This time, his tongue explored you even more thoroughly, dipping inside you to taste your essence before returning to your clit. He alternated between broad strokes and precise flicks, keeping you on edge. When he slipped two fingers back inside you, curling them to hit that perfect spot, tears were creeping up on you for the mingled overstimulation and ecstasy.

Your hips began to move of their own accord, grinding against Steve's face as he worked you towards another climax. The coarse hair of his beard rubbed deliciously against your inner thighs, adding to the overwhelming sensations.

"That's it," Steve murmured against your flesh. "Let go for me, sweet girl."

His words, combined with a particularly well-timed curl of his fingers and another hard suck on your clit, sent you careening over the edge once more. You cried out, your back arching off the couch as your second orgasm ripped through you, even more intense than the first.

Steve didn't let up, his tongue and fingers working you through the aftershocks until you were a trembling, oversensitive mess. Only then did he pull away, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before sitting back on his heels.

You lay helpless, trying to catch your breath. He leaned forward and caught the tears on your cheeks with strong swipes of his thumbs. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be ruined for anyone else.”

Your breath caught in your throat at Steve's bold declaration. The intensity in his eyes made you shiver with anticipation.

"I already am," you confessed softly.

Something flashed in Steve's eyes - possessiveness, pride, and a hint of vulnerability. He surged forward to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he devoured your mouth.

Steve's hands roamed your body, relearning every curve and plane. When he cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over sensitive nipples, you arched into his touch with a gasp.

"Please" you mumbled against his lips.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours.

You surged forward for another kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. "I need you inside me."

Steve groaned, his hips grinding against yours. You could feel the hard length of him through his jeans, and you ached to have him fill you completely. He sat back, quickly stripping off his shirt to reveal his chiseled torso. Your hands roamed over his muscled chest and abs, marveling at the perfection of his body.

As Steve unbuckled his belt and shoved his jeans down, you took the opportunity to remove your shirt fully, leaving you both gloriously naked. He paused for a moment, drinking in the sight of you laid out before him, flushed and wanting. His eyes raked over your body with such intensity that you felt more exposed than you ever had before, curves and scars and imperfections on full display. You felt yourself flush under his gaze.

You reached for him, pulling him down on top of you. The feeling of his bare skin against yours was electrifying. Steve captured your lips in another passionate kiss as he settled between your thighs. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your entrance, and you rolled your hips, silently begging him to take you.

Steve broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as he slowly pushed inside. You both groaned at the exquisite feeling of him stretching and filling you. When he was fully seated, he paused, but not long enough for you to adjust to his size. But the painful pleasure of it only fueled your hunger for more of him.

"You feel so good," he breathed, his voice strained, words hot against the crook of your neck. "So tight and perfect for me."

You whimpered in response, overwhelmed by the fullness and the intensity of having Steve inside you again after so long. Your fingers dug into his broad shoulders as he began to move, starting with slow, deep thrusts that had you gasping with each roll of his hips.

"Steve," you moaned, arching into him. "More, faster."

He growled low in his throat, picking up the pace. The couch creaked beneath you as Steve's powerful thrusts drove you into the cushions. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, changing the angle so he hit that perfect spot inside you with each stroke.

"That's it," Steve panted, his voice rough with desire. "Take all of me."

Your world narrowed to the feeling of Steve moving inside you, the sound of skin on skin, and the increasingly desperate noises falling from both your lips.

Steve's rhythm became more frantic, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force. The intensity of his thrusts had you clinging to him, nails digging into his back as pleasure built within you. Each powerful stroke sent shockwaves through your body, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Look at me," Steve commanded, his voice husky and strained.

You forced your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. The raw emotion you saw there – desire, possessiveness, and something deeper you couldn't quite name – took your breath away.

"I want to see you fall apart," he growled, never breaking eye contact as he continued to drive into you relentlessly. “I want to watch what only I can do to you.”

One of his hands snaked between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and circling it with the precision he perfected in the heat of July.

"Come for me," Steve commanded, his voice strained. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

His words and the relentless pressure on your clit sent you spiraling into ecstasy. You cried out Steve's name as your orgasm crashed over you, your inner walls clenching tightly around him. The intensity of your climax triggered Steve's own release. He groaned, burying himself deep inside you as he came.

For a moment, you both lay there, panting and trembling in the aftermath. Steve's weight pressed you into the couch, but you relished the feeling of being surrounded by him.

When both of you settled back into even breathing, he planted slow kisses along your jaw and blazed a trail back to your mouth. Cock still inside you, he kissed you slowly. Slow and unrepentant, in no hurry now, only drinking you in, and you let your hands stroke up and down his back, relishing in the impossible and stolen closeness.

You could survive a second encounter with this super soldier.

READ their next part/later that night: Put Me Back on My Shelf read more of the: Exiled Nomad Series

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chlix · 13 days ago

Text

baby, it's cold outside (no seriously it's crazy out there)

bf! chan x gn! reader: your car breaks down in a snowstorm and you have to walk home. chan is there to comfort you and warm you back up

pairing: chan x reader

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

word count: 4.1k

warnings/tags: snowstorms, car trouble, sickness, a long series of unfortunate events that leave the reader miserable for most of the fic

a/n: this is a request from @caticorn61 who wanted chan being apologetic for not answering his phone after reader's car broke down. this is perhaps more than what u asked for 😅 but i hope you enjoy it anyway!

You are on a historic run of bad days.

You've never considered yourself to be particularly unlucky, but this past week has had you rethinking that orientation. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. On Monday your alarm didn't go off, making you late for work. Even worse, there was a meeting you'd forgotten about, so you had to slide awkwardly into the back of the room and pretend you didn't feel everyone's annoyed gazes. Tuesday was grocery shopping day, but you found out they discontinued your favorite brand of chips, and raised the price of an alternative, so you were forced to go home chip-less. Then, when you tried to take the groceries out of the car, one of the bags split open and sent your eggs, cheese, and blueberries crashing to the ground, buried in slush and snow. A total waste. Wednesday you woke up to find your heating had shut off in the night, and you were now shaking fit to break apart. Although maintenance promptly fixed your radiator, you developed an itch in your throat that only grew throughout the day and had developed into a full-blown cough by the next morning.

Which is where you are now on a subzero Thursday morning, ill and irritated and crawling your way towards the end of the week.

Your boyfriend, Chan, talks to you on the phone in soothing tones.

"I'm sorry your week has been so rough, baby," he says, and you can hear the dripping sympathy through the phone. "I know how it feels when little things pile up like that."

"I just don't know if I can take it anymore," you tell him. "It's like I've been cursed. I'm afraid if I walk outside a piano will fall on me and crush me."

You're half-joking when you say that, but Chan can hear that the other half is vaguely on hysterical.

"I don't think anyone is moving pianos in this weather," he says very reasonably. "Just stay away from luxury apartments if you're worried."

You set your bag down and put your face in your hands, taking slow, deep breaths. Your phone is on speaker, and you can hear Chan hum, trying to comfort you even though he's in his own dorm across the city.

"It'll all be okay, Y/n. And I'll see you this weekend, yeah? I'll come over Friday night and you'll have me all to yourself. Just stay strong."

You exhale, long and loud. "You promise?"

"I promise. Be strong for me, babygirl."

You blink the dampness out of your eyes and straighten up. "Okay. I can do that."

"And drink some tea. Your voice sounds kind of rough."

"Don't get me started again, please."

By the time you hang up, you don't feel understood, but you do feel seen. You fill up a thermos with tea, put on your coat, and mentally prepare yourself to leave the apartment.

It's only two more days, you remind yourself. The weekend will fix me. It'll break this curse that's been placed upon me. You force yourself to have a positive outlook. You will not have another bad day. You will be strong.

All day, you force yourself to react to every potentially meltdown-inducing incident with grace and poise. You realize you forgot your lunch and have to eat cheap candy from the vending machine for lunch? That's totally fine. Your boss adds another item to your to list, forcing you to stay later to finish everything and close up? You really don't mind. Your best friend texts you that she's been stalking her ex on Instagram again and you won't believe it but he already has a new girlfriend, y/n, can you fucking believe it, we've only been broken up for like two weeks and he's buying her fucking jewelry, and you respond what an asshole. he has a new gf and he didn't block his ex? while your eye twitches.

By the time you finish all your tasks and close up, your face hurts from holding a smile you don't feel. You're the last one out, so you make sure the building is locked and make your way across the empty parking lot to your car. The forecast predicted snow tonight, and already the ground is littered with white. The flakes are fat and sticky- they're already building up on the undisturbed portions of pavement. You have to quickly brush off your windows and mirrors before you can get into your car, slamming the door behind you.

You made it. You survived. It was a godawful Thursday but you conquered it.

"One more day," you whisper to yourself. "Just one more day."

You lock the door and put the key in the ignition. The dashboard lights up and the engine turns.....and turns....and turns.....

A rock forms in your stomach.

"No," you say. "No no no no no." You twist the key again, but the engine whirs and whirs and whirs...and does not turn over. Your car does not start.

It's not news to you that your car is a piece of shit. You and Chan discuss this almost every night- what to do about this fuckass car. You've been resistant to letting him help you pay for a new one, partially because that's a lot of money and partly because you're sentimentally attached to the old rustbucket. You inherited it from a family member as a birthday gift, and so despite it being less than reliable you're hesitant to seek solutions. It's your first car, after all. It's a part of you now.

In this moment, however, you want to throw all that sentimentally down the drain along with the keys to this absolutely useless fucking rustbucket of a vehicle.

Not to worry, you tell yourself. I'll just call Chan to come get me. We can deal with my car in the morning.

You take out your phone and call him. The call rings out.

You stare at your phone, confused. It's not like him to ignore your calls, especially not at this hour. It's pitch black with winter but it's still arguably early in the night. Chan is likely to still be awake, but it's unlikely he's doing any kind of official task. And it's so late that he would know to answer; you would never call him for something frivolous at this time of night. You call again.

No answer.

Your patience is running thin now. You consider calling your best friend, but she's out of town visiting family. Your other friend, Seohyeon, doesn't have a car, and her boyfriend's car is currently being repaired. The bus you sometimes take is about a fifteen minute walk down the street, but it'll have stopped running this far out by now, so you'd have to walk to a further bus stop and then go to the transportation terminal and connect, which would take over an hour. You could walk to the subway, you think, but you lost your subway card weeks ago and never got around to replacing it, and honestly it just seems like a whole ordeal you can't bring yourself to stomach right now. Chills go down your spine, and you can't tell if it's from the cold or from the increasing precarity of your situation.

You try the engine again. No dice.

You call Chan again. Voicemail again.

You lean your head on the steering wheel and take long, deep breaths. Outside your window, the wind is picking up, making the snow fall at a diagonal instead of straight down. It would be terrible to walk in, especially because the direction you need to go to get home would cause the snow to blow right in your face. Your throat is killing you, but your thermos of tea is long since empty. Maybe you should just go back into the work building and hunker down for the night. Maybe you should sit in the car and turn into an icicle. Your head is a foggy mess, thoughts twisting all around. You're getting hysterical again. You can feel yourself cracking to pieces.

Think, y/n. Who else can you call?

You're all out of people you know personally, but you could call an Uber. It's pricey and arguably unsafe, and you normally wouldn't, but these are extenuating circumstances. It solves the problem of being stranded, and again, you can deal with your car at a later point. And at least when Chan finally calls you back, you'll be safe at home, so he won't have to feel guilty about missing your calls three times.

You lean back in your seat and open the Uber app. Thankfully you still have it installed, and it still has all your info in it from the last time you called someone to take you home. Just as you're about to finish the transaction, your phone freezes. The screen flashes, then goes dark. You press the power button once, then again, frantically.

Your phone is dead.

Immediately, you scramble for your console, searching for a power cable to connect the phone to the car battery. Your cable is gone. You remember, horrified, that you took the cable out of your car because the one in your living room at home had started fraying. You meant to replace it but you never did. You're normally pretty good at leaving the house in the morning with it mostly charged.

But it's nighttime now, and your battery is dead. You have no charging cables, which means you can't call an Uber. You can't call anybody. And you can't even go to the subway now because your debit card is on your phone, so you can't refill your subway card.

A terrible despair fills you.

You have to walk home in a snowstorm.

As soon as the thought materializes, tears start to well in your eyes. This is too much for you to take, would be too much for you even if you'd had a perfectly good day today. This isn't fait. How can this be happening to you? Why is the universe punishing you like this? And when is it going to stop? Again you wish you could just sit in your car and turn into an icicle, let someone else defrost you in the morning. You think having a piano fall on your head would be better than this.

Eventually you manage to get yourself to calm down. Sitting in this car freezing isn't gonna do you any good. It'll only get colder by the hour. You need to walk to the far bus stop and catch another bus before they actually stop running, and you really are stranded instead of just doomed to walk forty minutes in a blizzard.

As if there's a difference, you think bitterly as you put your useless phone into your bag and bundle everything up. You put your gloves back on, and your hat. You step out of your car, slamming the door behind you, and zip up your jacket. Of course, you hadn't thought to wear a scarf today, so your face will just have to freeze. After only 30 seconds you feel your lips cracking.

"Okay," you whisper. "Okay okay okay okay."

You set off in the direction of the bus.

-/-

The journey is long and cold. It's not so much the temperature as the fact that you never have the chance to get used to it because it just keeps getting holder as the night wears on. It takes a ridiculously long time to walk to the bus stop, because you're fighting headwind every step of the way. You want to close your eyes against the snow, but if you do that you'll veer off course or fall into the road or trip on an ice slick and die, so you brave the stinging and push forward. Then you wait at the bus stop so long that your already sore feet start to scream with pain. Your phone is dead, so there's no way for you to track the bus, but you conclude you must have just missed the previous one as it takes a full thirty minutes for it to come again. By the time the bus pulls up in front of you, your feet are almost buried, and when you take your seat, every part of you squelches and slides as the snow melts, drenching your clothes.

The bus is at least warm, and so is the transport center, but the second bus drops you off another twenty-five minute walk from your apartment and you're forced to walk- you guessed it!- uphill. Your calves are screaming from the exertion, and from cold, and from keeping your balance as you trudge through the piling snow. You have a death grip on your keys- if they were to fall out somewhere between work and home you would simply lie down on the ground and let the snow bury you. It would be more than you could take. But your keys stay in your tightly clenched fists, and soon your apartment building becomes visible through the dark and haze. You want to cry tears of relief but your tear ducts are frozen shut.

By the time you traipse up the steps of your apartment, you feel more popsicle than person. You are so cold. Your hands shake so much it takes you a few tries to get the keys from your pocket and stick them in the lock. You step inside, sagging as the heat blasts you in the face. All you want to do is collapse into bed and curl under your blankets where the world can't see you, to get a little bit of sleep before your torture begins anew tomorrow. The thought of going to work on Friday strikes a physical pain in you. You've barely survived today, and yet tomorrow looms terrible just out of reach.

You go to turn on the lights only to realize that the lights are already on. Your heart skips a beat. Did someone break into your apartment? Should you turn around and flee? But you don't have a car, and you certainly aren't walking back to the bus stop. You have nowhere to go.

A figure turns the corner and you flinch back, hands half-raised in some pathetic attempt to defend yourself-

It's Chan. He turns the corner and it's your boyfriend, standing on your tile floor in sweats and a big sweater, eyes bright and twinkling with how excited he is to see you.

"Hey, sweetheart," Chan says. "You're finally back. I saw you called earlier and got worried something was wrong."

You burst into tears. You're crying before you even know it, violent sobs that shake you and make water droplets roll off your soaked hair. Salt burns your frozen tear ducts, and snow is slipping down your collar, but all these small discomforts are overshadowed by the pure and all-consuming relief that your boyfriend is here in the flesh, asking after you and taking care of you, and you can finally stop fighting to keep it together. You can rest.

Chan makes a sound of alarm and rushes forward to grab you as you start to list.

"Baby? Hey, hey, what's wrong? Christ, you look terrible. Are you sick?" He tries to put his hand against your forehead but pulls it away just as fast. "You're cold as ice, y/n."

"I w-walked home," you try to explain. Your tongue is thick in your mouth, and it's hard to get enough air to speak through your sobs. "Car broke down, phone died, b-bus was late."

"Fuck, sweetheart. I'm so fucking sorry. That sounds terrible."

His validation of your misery just makes you cry harder. Chan pulls you into a fierce hug and you bury your face in his shoulder and absolutely lose it. All the stress of the last week crashes down on you at once, your misery overwhelming you. You grab at his clothes with gloved hands, and there's about four layers of clothes between you, and it's not enough, you want to be closer. But at the same time you can't make yourself pull away from Chan's embrace. He whispers soothing words in your ear, rocks you back and forth, presses closed mouth kisses to any part of you he can reach. He doesn't shush you, or try to calm you down. He just lets you have the emotional release he knows you sorely need.

When your cries start to slow, he gives you one final squeeze to catch your attention, and whispers, "We need to get you out of these clothes, hmm? Does that sound okay?"

You swallow the last of your sobs and nod morosely.

"Okay then. Let's take your jacket off. It's soaking wet by now."

You step back from Chan, still holding on to his arm as you stumble and sway. You're so tired. Standing up for even a second longer is too big of an ask.

"Just lean on me. It's okay, I won't let you fall."

Together, you unfasten and take off your heavy winter coat, letting it fall to the floor with the slush you dragged in. Chan is the one who crouches down to untie your shoes, and you lean on him for support as you remove one foot, then the other.

"Good job," he praises, pressing a kiss to your snow-soaked hair. "Let's get you warmed up now."

He leads you to the bathroom and starts the water running in the tub. You listlessly undress, leaning on the counter for support when you need it. While the tub is filling, Chan tries to leave, but you catch him by the shoulder on his way past you, stopping him in his tracks.

"Stay?"

"Of course I'll stay," he says. "I just want to get you a change of clothes."

You hesitantly let go of him, and he flashes you a reassuring smile before he slips out. You sit down on the toilet and wait patiently for his return, watching the water fill the tub slowly and feeling your thoughts move sluggishly in your brain.

The sound of the water stopping jolts you back to the present. Chan is back, in a regular t-shirt this time, leaning over the bathtub to make sure the water is the right temperature. Deeming it good enough, he turns back to you and stretches out a hand to you.

As soon as you sit down in the warm water, you feel about ten times better. The warmth unties some of the tension that coils your muscles, and it quells the shivering that had started up as you were sitting on the toilet waiting to be told what to do. Chan urges you to slide down so you're almost submerged, making sure almost all your body is enveloped in warmth, and starts dumping warm water over your head, soaking your hair and washing out the remnants of grime and slush. He's quiet as he does it, humming a low tune, and you close your eyes and let him do as he wants. When he's done, he taps your shoulder, and you sit up, mourning the loss of warmth as your back and chest are exposed to the bathroom air.

"Do you mind?" he asks. You shake his head, uncaring of what he's referring to. You'd let him do anything to you in this state. It turns out "anything" means washing your back, so you again sit still and let him do as he pleases. The pressure of his hands and the sound of his voice, still humming, gradually soothe your mind and body. You stop shivering and tune back into your surroundings.

He's subtly watching your face, so he sees when you come back to yourself and drops his neutral expression. "Back with me?"

You nod. The floaty feelings from being cold and hysterical are gone, but that just means the exhaustion of your day is hitting you full force. You hold out your hand for the washcloth so you can clean the rest of yourself, and he hands it over, but doesn't move to leave, which you appreciate. Now that you're calmer, you think you might be a little more embarrassed asking him to stay.

"I know you said this morning you were cursed, but I didn't think you meant literally," he tries to joke.

You let out a long breath. "I didn't think I meant literally either."

"Wanna talk about it?"

You shrug as you rub the washcloth along your legs, wincing when you remove your still-freezing toes from the water. "What can I say? It was a shit day at work with a shit ending."

"You said your car broke down."

You squeeze your eyes shut. You are not in the mood for this argument. "It just wouldn't start. I don't know what's wrong with it."

"Y/n..." He doesn't say anything more. He knows as well as you do that you'll get nowhere. It's enough to set you off though, now that your exhaustion is making you irritatble.

"It wouldn't have mattered either way if you'd picked up the phone when I called you," you snap. It's unfair and you know it, but before you can begin to feel remorse, Chan's face turns to one of guilt.

"I know, I'm sorry. I still had it silenced from work and didn't realize. When I saw that you called me I tried to call back but the calls didn't go through."

"My phone died. That's why I didn't call an Uber."

Chan shakes his head. "I would call this comical if it wasn't so clearly stressing you out."

"You can still call it comical. Just not within earshot."

"Surely you think better of me than that."

"I do," you say, completely serious. "Sorry. I'm not mad you didn't answer. It's just been a shitty day."

Chan squeezes your shoulder in understanding. "It's alright. I get it."

"I'm really grateful you're here," you say, and you're getting choked up again, emotions all out of whack. "I've never been so happy to see anyone."

"You called three times. Since I couldn't get a hold of you, I hoped you'd still come home and we could talk here."

"You're too good to me."

"I'm exactly as good as you deserve." He leans down to kiss you, long and loving and warm, and the last of the chill in your bones slides away.

-/-

The next morning, Chan calls you in sick before you even wake up. He has to leave for the morning, but comes back around noon with ingredients to make you soup and tea, and rouses you for lunch with all the care and gentleness in the world. He curls next to you in bed despite your protests that you'll get him sick, but then, it's not like you protest that hard. You're still feverish and needy, and maybe it's not the most ridiculous thing in the world to want to lie in your boyfriend's arms as you recover from what you're pretty sure is mild hypothermia mixed with the flu.

"We were gonna hang out this weekend," you say morosely. "Now I'm trapped in this bed and you're stuck taking care of me."

"Taking care of you is my favorite form of hanging out," he informs you, cleaning away the mug and bowl to bring back to the kitchen. "And hanging up the phone on your boss is my favorite passtime."

"You did not hang up on them," you gasp, hand over your mouth.

Chan shrugs, unbothered. "They seemed a little too annoyed about my request to not tow your car out of the parking lot. I made it very clear that it better be there when you get back on Monday or else."

"So selfless. You could've let them tow it and finally been victorious."

He turns from the kitchen and sits back down on the bed. "You like that car. I'm not going to keep insisting you get rid of it when it means so much to you. Even if I do blame it for the events of yesterday." You glare and he puts his hands up defensively. "If it's not my fault or your fault then I have to blame the car. Sorry not sorry."

"Blame the cursed spirit following me around," you say, sinking miserably into the blankets. "It possessed the engine of my car just to torment me."

"Even more reason to get rid of it."

You're feverish and tired, but the conversation makes you smile nonetheless. "Ask me again when my fever breaks if you still think I should keep it. Maybe it'll burn away the sentimental attachment."

"Don't get my hopes up."

You close your eyes as Chan kisses your forehead, and you slide easily into pleasant dreams.

#skz x reader #skz x you #skz fluff #skz hurt/comfort #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan fluff #bang chan hurt/comfort

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adams-angels · 11 months ago

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reader and sick adam idk yay

This is perfect because both me and my partner are sick atm and unfortunately for him I'm a total baby when I'm sick. I wrote this one slightly differently?

Also it's a bit short, sorry.. 🧡

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Poor baby

Big baby

Like the biggest baby when he's sick. I'm not kidding.

The slight tickle of a cough and he's at home in bed snuggled up.

Will text lute he's dying again

Won't do anything for himself. Not like he ever did anyway. But now he's extra bad.

"sex will is the best medicine" queue coughing fit.

Extra needy

EXTRA NEEEY

Extra need means extra cuddly too

Also grosser than usual

Will show you his snotty tissue telling you how gross it is while you try not to throw up

Will want to be touching you constantly

If he's not in a position to be cuddling into your chest he will want to hold your hand

Even though he's ill he'll still talk nonstop

Will talk himself to sleep

Loves being babied but will never admit it

"Poor, baby. Poooooor, baby Adam." You coo'ed with a smile, bringing the man some soup. "Shut up..." Adam groans pulling the duvet over his head. You were both sick. In fact, you were sick before him but no, his is much worse. 'Man flu' and all that.

"Oh, don't be like that my love." You pulled the duvet off his face. It was really the only times you'd see him without a mask on. You brushed his hair off his sweaty forehead, he whimpered at your touch. "Poor boy." He scowled, "man. Poor man." Correcting you. "First man." Muttering to himself. You can't help but chuckle.

"Come on. I brought you soup." You place the bowl on his night table. He looks over to the bowl and whines. "Feed meeee." "Seriously, Adam?" "I'm not weeellll..." "I'm not well either you know? You know what you did when I was ill? Got me to suck you off." "But it's meant to heeelllpppp." You stare at him unamused. "Please, y/n?" He knew you'd say yes if he said your name. He'd always call you "babe", "sweet tits", "Adam's Apple" so he'd say your name when he really wanted something. You roll you're eyes. Not really at him. More at yourself for giving in so easily.

You pick the bowl back up and sigh, "fine. Sit up." He did as he told, but if course with small whimpers and whines because in his words "his body is extra sensitive right now." You stirr the soup before bringing the spoon to his mouth. "You're such a baby." You smile softly at him.

Once he's fed his sighs in satisfaction. You blow your nose because, again, you also have this cold. "baaaabe.." you looks over at him in the bed, tucked in, looking all cozy. "Where are you going? Come to bed." You can help but smile and crawl into bed next to him. It takes seconds before Adams arms are wrapped around you, pulling himself into your chest. His wing covering your body as he purred in comfort. "You know, Lute says that you need to take better care of me." "Oh? Really? Because Lute told me that I baby you." He removed his face from your chest, "what?!" His voice cracking. "You- I - she did not!" He burrows himself back into your chest, wrapping his arms around you, tightly holding you in place. You could hear a very muffled "shut up."

You run your fingers through his hair with a smile.

"Poor, baby."

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam x reader

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captain-bubble-wrap · 13 days ago

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loved your sick gf/helpful quinn post

can we get a sick quinn this time? I feel like he'd be a big baby when he's sick

Quinn had coughed all night.

It had started off small but had quickly developed into something more consistent and with a persistent wheeze alongside it. He seemed so uncomfortable: tossing and turning, trembling with the chills and cold sweats. It seemed like with each passing hour a new symptom appeared: from the cough to finally the body aches. You wanted to soothe his pain and make him comfortable but he just pushed you away, It had kind of hurt your feelings having him reject you time and again, but you were just trying to help. Best you could do was tell yourself it was just because he felt bad and that he didn't mean to be that way.

By this point, you couldn't sleep. Quinn's constant shifting and coughing had given you no peace or himself for that matter. Sometime in the night, you grabbed your pillow and went to the sofa instead, You didn't want to leave him, but if he was sick, he would need someone to care for him come the morning. If you were running on a couple hours sleep, it wasn't going to be you; you might as well be sick right alongside of him.

Even from the living room, you could hear him cough, hear the wheeze cause him so much pain with its ability to take his breath away. You probably didn't sleep any more on the sofa than you would have beside him. Every so often you'd force yourself to get up and check on him. He had a fever and was burning up yet he appeared to be asleep. Quinn needed medicine and as soon as possible but you weren't about to wake him up to take any. Instead, you'd dig through the bathroom cabinets and find some multi-symptom cough syrup. The label said it would help counteract each of the things Quinn was dealing with but would it be enough? You'd leave it on his bedside table for the next time a coughing fit woke him.

When morning came around he seemed worse. Congestion had set in and it had changed the sound of his voice to something nasally instead of its usually velvety tone. Getting him to take anything was like pulling teeth because he just wanted to lay with the pillow over his head, hidden from everything especially the morning light. Though Quinn wasn't normally the dramatic type, when he was sick, it was like the end of the world.

"Baby, please, just take this and I'll leave you alone. That's all I asking you to do."

"I'm fine. I just-- I'm fine," he said from under the covers.

"You're not and you know it. Please, just take it?"

"I just need to sleep it off."

You tried to contain your sigh but it was hard. He was being completely unreasonable and it was starting to wear on your nerves. If he just took the medicine it would help but getting him to see that point wasn't going your way. This wasn't the first time he had probably felt like this, so why was he being such a baby?

"Why won't you take it, Quinn?"

There was a long pause. You knew he wasn't asleep. Was he ignoring you in the hopes that you'd give up and just walk away? If that were the case, you were close to it.

"Okay, fine. Suit yourself." Leaving the medicine on the table, you'd leave the room defeated. What else were you supposed to do? He didn't want to be touched, loved on, or anything but left alone. At least that's how it seemed. Even simple conversations were proving to be a battle.

You shut the bedroom door behind you and went to the kitchen. Food didn't seem like the magical end-all-be-all cure to his cold but if he didn't want it then you'd just take it for yourself. Soup seemed like the best choice even if it was the cliche option. "Comforting to the soul and stomach," your mom always said when you were sick. However, a quick assessment of the pantry revealed you didn't have what you needed for soup.

Instead of sticking your head back into the bedroom to let him know you were headed out, you texted his phone saying something similar.

"I'm going to the store. I'll be back in a bit."

Short and painfully to the point. It wouldn't be until you were in Quinn's car that you felt guilty for how you had come off. You'd text him once more before finally leaving; trying to rewrite your sour attitude towards him.

"I love you."

- - -

When you returned to the apartment, you could see signs of life that hadn't been there before. The cough medicine was now on the island; the used dosing cup had remnants of the syrup still in the bottom, A loaf of bread was poorly wrapped up alongside it, and what looked like a simple cheese sandwich sat on a napkin with one bite taken out of it. And finally, on the sofa, was a bundled up Quinn, his tangled curls spilling out over one of the pillows he rested his head on.

"Hi," he said, when you walked past him. His tone was defeated, moping even. Had you hurt his feelings? It wasn't your intention to, but it was just frustrating trying to help someone who just came off like they would rather stay miserable.

"Hi, baby."

"Where did you go? I came out and you were gone." Quinn didn't lift his head off the pillow or even his eyes. When you looked over at him he was looking at your feet.

"I texted you. I went to the store to get stuff to make you soup."

"I haven't looked at my phone. You didn't have to do that." His monotone was worse now, tinged slightly with his own flavour of annoyance.

Had you been in a worse mood, you would have said something about checking his phone, but instead you were able to bite your tongue. He didn't feel good, you had to remind yourself of this fact. This wasn't your Quinn - your sweet Huggy Bear - this was someone struggling with their body fighting against them to get better. You knew Quinn would never purposefully give you an attitude or be short with you, and the same should have been said about you.

"I'm sorry I was short with you, Quinn," you finally get out. You had hoped that would have removed some weight from your chest but instead it only made it heavier. He still wouldn't look at you. In fact, he closed his eyes after you had spoken your apology. Seeing him ignore you that way felt terrible, but you felt you had earned his cold shoulder. You had been sick a few times since you had been together and Quinn had been so kind and selfless. What had given you the right to be so unsympathetic?

"It's fine," he said, snuggling deeper into his self-made cocoon.

"It's not fine." Your heart hurts as you cross the room to kneel before where he lay. "Honey, I'm sorry." You brush the sweat-matted hair from his forehead. He was burning up with fever but this time he managed to look at you. He looked like he could melt into tears at any moment.

"I'm sorry I ignored you earlier," he replied, meeting you halfway with his own apology.

"You don't feel good, Quinn, it's okay. I'm sorry I got mad. I had no right to."

Quinn sniffled, either from the congestion or just because he was getting that emotional. Either way, you leaned forward and gave him a tender kiss to his forehead. This made the faintest smile appear on his half-concealed lips.

"You probably shouldn't kiss me," he mumbles, silently thankful for the gentle affection. Deep down, he wanted it; wanted to be babied and taken care of but instead of asking for it, he just found himself coming off as hard-headed.

"It's alright," you reassure him, a second kiss finding its mark along with the first. "I'll just get sick right with you."

"I don't want you to get sick, though."

"I know you don't but sometimes it happens. At least we'll have soup." You give him a smile, the first one that day. He returns the sentiment.

"What kind?"

"Broccoli cheddar and the classic chicken noodle. Which do you want first?"

"You got stuff for both?" His little voice sounded shocked, amazed that you'd treat him to two different types of soup varieties. Sometimes it was the little things that made the biggest impact.

"Of course I did."

Quinn tried to sit but got winded halfway through, a coughing fit taking what strength he had built up.

"Oh, baby, you need to rest. How about you get a nap and I'll wake you up when I get something done?"

"Okay."

"It's okay, sweetheart, I'll manage." You wink, trying to reassure him that everything would be okay, and that you could handle some soup-making alone. When you stood up, you caught the subtle trembling from under his blanket. "I'm going to get you another blanket, okay?"

"Okay."

Those short responses you recognized were the best he could do at the time and didn't strike a nerve like they had earlier. But walking away from him still hurt like it had the first time, and you could feel his eyes on you still. From a tote under your bed, you found a heated blanket your parents had sent you after you made the decision to move to Vancouver. Hopefully this would bring Quinn some more consistent heat despite his body running his internal thermostat like a child left unsupervised.

"Here, baby, this should help you. Do you want this overtop or...?"

"I want that one," he said, pulling the original one from his body as best he could.

"It's okay, it's okay. Here, let me get it," you say, helping Quinn untuck himself before draping him with the ultra-plush heated one. "Should be nice and hot in just a few minutes."

"Thank you," he said, gripping it tightly. "Thanks for helping me."

"Thank you for letting me. I'm going to go make you some soup, okay? I'll try to be quiet so I don't wake you."

"I'll just...I'll be right here," he said through a yawn, the medicine finally kicking in and lulling him to sleep.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #quinn hughes one shot #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic

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sweetiesicheng · 16 days ago

Text

yeosang - sick

word count : 652

"woah, easy there," yeosang says to you as you have another coughing fit. he pats your back as you go through your fit. "think you can eat?" he asks.

you nod, "yea," you reply. "i'll make it myself, babe," you say to him.

he shakes his head. "just take a break. i'll make you something," he says to you. he gets off of the bed and leaves the room with a sense of hurry in his movement.

you grab your water bottle and take a sip. as you sit in bed, you hear yeosang doing stuff in the kitchen since the door is open.

you grab the bottle of cough syrup on the nightstand and realize that you're going to run out, so you get up and throw on your coat. you leave the room and pop your head into the kitchen.

"hey, i'm gonna go buy more cough syrup," you say to yeosang. he turns his head.

"huh? i can go buy it," yeosang says to you, putting down a container with some leftovers in. it. "i'll go buy more after i'm done making dinner."

"no, babe, it's fine," you say to him.

"no, no, no," yeosang says and walks over to you. "go rest."

"i've been stuck in here all day," you remind him, "i won't take that long."

he sighs in response. "okay. go," he says, quickly giving in, “but get back here quickly.”

you smile, "i'll be back," you say to him.

you leave your house and walk a few blocks to reach a small market. when you go inside, you grab a basket and go into the medicine aisle first, where you grab a bottle of cough syrup.

you look around the store for a second and grab a few more items. after you pay, you walk back home. it's freezing cold, but the walk isn't bad and your trip to the market was fairly quick.

however, once you get home, you see yeosang waiting by the front door. he opens the door when he sees you.

"why were you up here?" you ask him.

"i was worried. i texted you to buy snacks, but your phone was in the room," he replies and holds his hand out as you approach him. he grabs the bag and both of you go inside. "food's ready," he mentions.

you take your coat off, throwing it onto the couch in the living room. both of you go into the kitchen, and you sit down at the table while yeosang goes to the stove. he brings you some food.

"thanks, babe," you say to him as he walks back to the stove to make another plate of food.

"mhm," he hums. "there's extra if you want to eat more." suddenly, he realizes something, "oh!" he takes a few steps to the side. you watch him pour water from a kettle into a mug and add a tea packet. "here," he says and brings the mug to you, "this is a good tea to drink when you're sick."

you smile, "thanks. i wanted something warm to drink," you mention.

all of a sudden, you feel yourself about to have a coughing fit and turn away. you cough a few times before stopping.

"you okay?" yeosang asks you.

you nod, "yea, i'm good."

"hmm...hopefully you get better soon. i hate seeing you sick," yeosang comments with a frown.

"well, i'm miserable if you're wondering," you say to him as you move the mug closer to you. you lift the tea packet a few times but leave it in the mug.

"well, hopefully you get better soon. i don't like seeing my cutie pie miserable," he replies, “so tell your sickness to go away.”

you laugh and nod. "okay, i'll tell my sickness to go away."

"good."

"yeosang," you call his name, "thank you."

he smiles, "no need, baby. just get better soon."

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eternity-111 · 8 months ago

Text

A special little break time!

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ Barbatos just can't seem to relax and take a break, fine. You'll have to do it in your own way. (fem reader x dom barbatos)

NSFW! minors scroll down ⊹

nsfw, blow job, tears, creampie 𖹭

୨୧

reblogs, likes are appreciated! If you see any grammar mistakes, feel free to tell me <3

You receive a message from the young Lord asking you a favor to help him convince Barbatos to get a break. He can't think of anyone else but you.

"I'm not exactly sure why Barbatos always follows your command, it is like your superpower! you can tell him to touch a rat and he will gladly do it" said Diavalo while giggling.

No really, it's so hard to convince him to take a break. Even when the young Lord himself told him to. His excuses are always "This is my duty" or "I'm your Butler". And technically you agreed to help Diavalo.

firstly, you open your phone and text Barbatos to meet you at the cafe.

"Is this something important? If not, I will not come." Barbatos replied to your text. But no, you won't give up that easily. You are determined that you can do it! so this time, you call him.

"Let's do something fun Barbatos! aren't you tired of working?"

"I'm honored that you asked me, but no. I am not tired since this is my duty to keep an eye on the young master."

ugh. why isn't he agreeing to go out with you? how dare he say no to you. He rarely says that!

"Fine! I'll come over there then. wait for me Barbatos!" although he declines any offer, you are still determined to get him to take a break.

you are now inside of the castle, trying to find Barbatos but since it's so big, you almost got lost! even though you have been visiting the castle almost every week, you still managed to get confused about the layout of the castle. It's pretty huge after all. Searching for him makes you exhausted and really thirsty. walking around that castle is like an exercise for you. So you head over to the kitchen to get something to drink, and that's when you find Barbatos. Washing the dishes.

"Barbatos! I'm so glad I found you" smiling when you finally found him.

"Why hello there Mc, you seem to be panting a lot. Are you okay?" Looking back at you while finishing up his duty.

"yeah I'm fine dont worry." you replied while grabbing yourself a drink. Not long after that, you head over to the counter where Barbatos is drying his hands off, Again.. Trying to get him off work but he simply declined. No matter what you do or what you say he just won't.

"pleaseeee..?? pretty please? I'll do anything for you to get off from work!" You said to him while holding his hands with a pout.

God, You look so fucking adorable and he can't resist you. He tried to not look down at you because you were wearing a tight-fit dress and he didn't want to get a boner while working. But he can't. Looking down at you with that face makes him want to just fuck you. I mean.. it's your plan after all. You know he can't resist you with that dress and that is why you wear it.

You took advantage of it, tip-toeing over for a light kiss, teasing him. Your lips were as soft as a cloud and he needed more. He holds your waist to let you know that he doesn't want your pretty, soft lips to leave. A soft moan slipped out of your mouth as a response. His kisses slowly go down, from your lips, chin, and then your neck. He was so gentle and soft.. Gosh, you started to feel hot, and.. he was hard too. You felt his pants hardened, it's like he's asking you to unzip his pants and just.. suck it all.

"Well, I maybe perhaps need a little break don't I? Could you take care of me darling?" looking seductively at you, he asked you to help him and you knew exactly what to do, you are a good girl after all.

"Don't worry, I'll help you." you look at him innocently but you know deep down, your intention is not as innocent as your eyes.

On your knees, you started to unzip his pants. His dick was so excited that it just bounce right out, twitching as if he was so impatient, waiting for your next move. He was in fact, impatient. He needs your pretty little mouth to suck him deep. but.. why are you not doing it? Being impatient, He grabbed your head and pushed you so deep into him. Eyes widened, you didn't expect him to make the first move. You were gasping for air.

"b-barbatos.. calm down!" you choked on his dick, taking his dick out of your mouth.

"take it back, I didn't allow you to take it out."

after calming yourself down, you started to suck his dick again. It's so big that you can feel it hitting the back of your throat. Moaning when it did. Looking at him with pathetic eyes while sucking his dick off, it's like you're asking for his approval. Are you good enough? or are you not? He didn't say anything so you thought he was not satisfied. So you position your hands on his hips, sucking him way more quicker this time and you heard him grunt. Is he finally satisfied?

"i-is this good enough?" you asked him. Moaning as you say so.

"Yes. You're so good at this. keep sucking me." head tilting back while breathing heavily. Finally! he's satisfied.

He felt that he is about to cum. he didn't want to choke you with his precious cum so he take his dick out and release it all over your face. breathing heavily and moaning as he did that. Your face was all ruined now aww :(. Some of it was in your cheeks, hair, eyes, and lips. You licked some of it off while he stroke his dick. You smiled at him, what a good little girl. He needs more of you. and I mean. more.

He helps you stand up and then he lifts one of your legs to the counter and the other is at his shoe. Kissing all over you while he did. He kisses you as his hands guide his dick to your entrance. You were so wet by now. He is teasing you with his dick and he knows you want it.

"Barbatos please..? please put it inside. I can't wait anymore." whining and wiggling your ass as you told him, Gosh you were so needy for him. And he gladly does it.

He covers your mouth with his hands and slowly puts it inside. Eyes rolling and moaning when he did, your cunt was so tight and wet.. making him moan. He begins to fuck you slowly at first but as time went on, he got faster and faster. nghh his dick feels so good inside you and as for your legs? it was shaking. You were whimpering and moaning so much that he had to put his fingers inside of your mouth to calm you.

He was breathing heavily too, sometimes squishing your ass or your boobs when you were too loud. His hips begin to go quicker and tears are rolling down your face as you tell him to slow down. he didn't listen of course. Feeling that both of you are at the edge. He circle your clit to make you feel more pleasure.. kissing your neck while he did so.

"h-ha! barbatos~!" Hearing that makes him go more faster and sooner, and you both release at the same time. Your body trembling when you release, but still trying to suck his dick even deeper so that no cum of his is wasted. I mean, who wouldn't? his dick always hits your G-spot after all.

Your body was so weak that you couldn't stand up anymore. trembling so bad that you have to sit on the floor. It's not your fault, after all, It's his!

"Barbatos...I-i can't stand up anymore." while breathing heavily and letting his cum go out of your pussy to the floor. such a waste :( but you really try not to let anything spill out but you just can't.

"Don't worry darling. Since you helped me relax, I'll take care of you next. Maybe I should ask Diavalo for more breaks so I can just fuck you again hm?"

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #om smut #om barbatos #x reader #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x mc #obey me barbatos x reader #barbatos x reader #barbatos x mc #smut #om x reader

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astaroth1357 · 2 years ago

Text

The OM Cast as Househusbands

Inspired by my recent rant about domestic Solomon.

Contents: Pure fluff and unhinged roasts.

~♡♡♡~

Lucifer

A-tier. Generally a solid choice skill-wise.

Cooks decent, cleans well, budgets FANTASTICALLY, has a good list of connections/spells for all home repair, and even has a stern (but caring) parenting-style if so desired.

In short, Lucifer can run a house very well. He practically already does! Hope you like having a big, extended family because the brothers are coming with.

Really, the biggest downside to Lucifer is that you'll be constantly worried that he's bored... Man can run a house and then some. He probably has the daily chores done by noon, and then what?

He just has so much extra potential, is what I'm saying. Very "big, beautiful bird in a cramped cage" energy. But then again, maybe making him chill the fuck out and have a low-maintenance lifestyle for once is better for his blood pressure in the long run. Your call.

Mammon

B-tier. He ain't perfect, but he can learn quick.

If you can give Mammon anything, it's that he's a capable guy when he wants to be. He may not be good at cleaning up, cooking, or anything like that on his own, but with some encouragement...?

Big improvements made practically overnight! Shower him in praise and "thank you's" for every little thing he does and he'll start get greedy for it. Then he'll do even MORE around the house and he gets better each time.

Show him how to cook what you like, and he'll never forget. Remind him to fold up the laundry, and he'll get it done. Praise him for keeping the floors clean, then suddenly he's nagging YOU about tracking dirt on the carpet...

And he'll get so proud about it too... Like, he's your first man and you NEED him now. What would you ever do without him?? Now hand over your shirts because he has some ironing to do, dammit!!

The only downside is you'll have to handle the finances... The words "Mammon" and "budget" go together about as well as "grainery" and "match." He'll blow through it and then some. Earners beware.

Leviathan

Hovers around C-D tier. Levi can play the role of good househusband for a VERY particular kind of partner, otherwise he's a lost cause.

He is a surprisingly decent househusband ONLY when sufficiently motivated and playing out his "domestic slice-of-life" fantasies are that motivation.

He can cook (anime-inspired dishes), he can clean (if you convince him to treat the house like he does his figurine collections), he can even sew/mend (though the majority of what he makes may be cosplay related)!

He won't leave the house to shop, but deliveries are fine. He also can't keep to a budget that doesn't include a MASSIVE chunk carved out to maintain his otaku lifestyle. He'll throw a fit otherwise.

Really, Levi's biggest problem is that once those "domestic fantasies" become mundane, he'll get bored and go back to his shows and games again.

Anyone with him would need to keep feeding into his role with new "quests" or different tropes to try out like a DM running an irl campaign. Could be fun for a little while, but it'll be too much trouble for you both long term. Best give him a skip.

Satan

S-tier. Very good choice, and he's proud of that fact.

Cooks well, very conscientious of your needs, knowledgeable on many topics from recipes to home repair, actually knows how to do laundry in a timely manner... a very good man indeed.

100% the kind of husband who sees that it's going to rain, so he treks out to wherever the hell you are to make sure you have an umbrella. Can't have you getting sick.

Get him a cat and the house will become his own slice of the Celestial Realm. He'll even text cute pics/updates on what your cat is doing like they're your literal child.

Only downside is cleaning. He's a book horder and will argue until he's blue in the face to keep Every. Last. Pamphlet. An in-house library is a MUST and expect to need expansions. Otherwise, perfect man. Much approval to be had.

Asmodeus

B-A tier. Another decent choice, just a little eccentric at times.

Asmo is that partner who will happily play the part of the trophy househusband buuut he absolutely won't do anything too strenuous or dirty.

Cooking? Totally fine! He isn't amazing, but he's not awful either. Laundry? Say no more! Your clothes will never have a wrinkle again. But cleaning...? Like the floors, attic, or ESPECIALLY the bathroom??

Nope. Nuh-huh. His cute-ass hair and his cute-ass nails in his cute-ass clothes will not stand for it! He's going to beg for a maid immediately.

I guess in exchange you'll be hosting some killer dinner parties, though! Asmo has that "suburban wife who flaunts her amazing life" energy. Also keeping his influencer game alive with tutorials galore.

In short, Asmo is willing not just to spoil you, but elevate you as well. You just need to give him a little pampering in return, kay?

Beelzebub

B-tier. Most of his problems are, predictably, food related...

Beel really, REALLY tries but you are probably never going to have a meal on time (if there's somehow any food left at all).

It isn't that he won't cooking, arguably, he spends TOO much time cooking because he'll spend just as much time eating! Or running to the store because he ate the ingredients again...

Surprisingly, though, he's actually very good at cleaning and caring for another person. That's because it's what he does for Belphie. You think the seventhborn is picking up their room AT ALL? Don't kid yourself...

Probably a good time to point out that another downside (or perk??) of husband!Beel is you also get Belphie! But he's just as spoiled as ever so... Hopefully Beel's overwhelming amazingness will make up for that.

If you like Belphie and don't mind an empty cabinet, Beel is a good choice. If not, there are better options available, I promise.

Belphegor

D-tier. Shit househusband. Doesn't even try.

Won't clean, won't cook, won't shop, can't fix, can't budget, and don't even get me STARTED on the state of the sheets!!-

He is a decorative plant of a househusband. Meant only to make the room look nicer by his presence. I've seen dogs more capable and self-motivated to maintain a household than this man will ever be.

Should you somehow get him to exert the effort, he will whine and complain the entire time. And even then, he won't do much more than put some things away and order takeout.

The only upside to Belphie is that since he's always asleep, it's not like he's making the house any dirtier. Vacuuming around his unconscious ass is home life now. At least you probably get Beel too.

Diavolo

C-B tier. What he lacks in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm.

So... he basically can't do anything but since he's never had to, you can cut him some slack. He loves the idea of TRYING though, so you have an eager student!

He finds cooking to be a fun challenge and he isn't terrible at it. Cleaning is a drag but he likes to see you happy. You'll have to teach anything laundry/clothes related, unfortunately, and sending him to the grocery store without a very detailed list may result in him buying an entire aisle if he doesn't know what to get.

At least he'll genuinely love to hear about your day and have the biggest smile and warmest greeting for you every time you come home. He's like a big'ol puppy, just thrilled with your existence!

(Honestly, if something has him stumped, he'll call for Barbatos to help. He'll try to hide it because he wants to show that he can do things himself, but at the end of the day your happiness wins over his pride. Now let the butler fix your plumbing.)

Barbatos

SS-tier. So good, it's literally not fair.

He's been caring for another person for centuries. He has every possible skill he would need permanently etched into his DNA. He is the Grand Master of Domestic Life that all others should strive for.

Meals are at perfect temperature by the time you sit at the table. The house is so spotless that you could eat off the broom closet. Anything that breaks gets fixed/replaced within the day. He even leaves words of encouragement in the little notes packed up with your lunch. You'll start to wonder if he's an angel who's infiltrated too deep....

Barbs also seems to have a sixth sense for whenever you've had a bad day. You come back dragging from exhaustion? You favorite meal is already cooked, the bath is ready to be drawn, and would you like a shoulder rub on top of that? Feel free to vent, he loves to listen to whatever stories you have to share!

There are only two downsides to Barbatos: the first is that you are absolutely sharing him still with Diavolo and the young master is his top concern. So sorry.

The second is that moment he gets even the hint that there may be a rat in the house, he'll nuke the place with all of your stuff still in it. So keep some traps out and keep'em fresh, yeah? You'll be fine.

Simeon

S-tier. He even comes with pre-installed parenting skills! (If you're into that kind of thing).

Simeon may not have Barbs' "live to serve" mentality, but he is truly an angel to a fault. The man already acts as Den Mother of Purgatory Hall, so what would you expect?

He cooks well enough to own his own business and you can't run a business without being good with your cash. He probably has book royalties too... Plus, he cleans up after Solomon's messy ass in canon, so-

He's gonna be that husband you take to the office party and nobody will leave you alone about him for the next week. People are going to ask if he has a brother or some shit (give them Raph's number, I dare you)

Admittedly, home repair (especially of the electronics he's guaranteed to break) should probably go to someone else. Also, he is a package deal with Luke. That child is your unspoken son now, and you'll just have to deal with that.

Otherwise, he's trophy material. Marry him and carry him over that threshold! He's worth it, truly.

Solomon

I've already ranted about Solomon here. But if you aren't aware, he's D-tier saved only by the fact that he's really trying his best.

800 year-old bachelor be like: "Oh, you're supposed to change those...? They don't smell that bad after a month."

"Of course those dishes are clean! Yes, I can see that there's still food on them, but I washed them with soap. That's what makes them clean."

"What do you mean, 'Don't set the table with beakers on date night?' Isn't this one your favorite??"

"Dinner's almost done, honey! Just let me finish clubbing this octopus!" 😁

Disaster husband. Just leave him to his delusions and get used to takeout...

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

Text

Batting Practice Part 29 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It was your wedding day, and Bradley realized he was getting everything he wanted... not just a perfect wife, but a perfect family of three. After exchanging vows and promises, you and Everett take him home, because there's something important you want to ask him.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 3900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

"I can't believe you're getting married tomorrow," Molly said from the spot where she was lounging in the middle of your bed eating tortilla chips dipped in marshmallow fluff. "I remember when you married Danny. God, you looked fucking miserable that day."

"I was miserable that day. Young and stupid, too. Thanks for reminding me." You tried to take the bag of chips away as you said, "I hate crumbs in my bed. Can't you at least sit on the floor or something?"

She whined and reached for the bag. "It's not for me! It's for the baby. Now be a nice auntie and let me have my little snack."

You weren't sure of all the details of what had gone down. All you knew was Molly and Bob were still together, and she was keeping the baby. Apparently there had been some pleading on his end. Molly said he begged her not to leave him, and then he promptly told her about a million times how much the idea of having a child with her thrilled him. And slowly but surely, over the past few weeks, she seemed to become attached to the idea of being a mom.

"Fine," you sighed, handing her the chips. "Have your snack. But just remember, I'm not doing it for you."

"The baby thanks you," she said, rubbing her tiny bump as she shoved four chips into her mouth. "I wonder what the guys are up to," she said after she was done chewing.

"Watching the Phillies game. Or at least that's what Bradley texted me a few minutes ago."

"Give me your phone! You're not supposed to be talking to him! Bob was supposed to hide Bradley's phone under our bathroom sink. My god, I can't trust him to do anything right," she said with a soft smile on her face. She yanked your phone away and tucked it behind her back. "Now try on your dress one more time. Your tits look so good in it."

"I need you to zip it. Go wash your hands."

She rolled her eyes so hard, it was like she was fifteen years old again, and then she went into your bathroom like she was told. "What's it like living with Bradley?" she asked, moving his stuff around on the counter. "Does he like belch all the time and scratch himself?"

You started laughing as you tried to pull your dress on. "No! He's perfect. It feels like he's always been here. He takes care of almost everything for Ev, and he's actually quite tidy." You skipped over all the parts where you and he had been making love all over the house just because you could, but you did add, "I love having him with us."

Molly turned around and smirked as she came to zip your dress. "If I ever marry Bob, which I might not!" she said, cutting off your excited look. "If I do though, it'll be in the middle of a wildflower meadow just after sunset. And I'll make my own bouquet with the flowers beforehand. Oh, and I'll have to make sure Bob takes his allergy pills. But it'll be so dreamy."

You were gaping at her in the mirror as she zipped the dress. "Really?" you asked, flabbergasted. "That's literally nothing like what I thought you were going to say."

Molly sighed and made her way back to the bag of chips. "It's these fucking hormones. Fuck! I want to get married in the middle of some flowers now! What the hell?" She was wiping at her eyes as she told you, "Pull your dress down a little bit. I'm telling you, Bradley won't even be able to focus on the ceremony with your boobs looking like that."

"The ceremony is only going to be like ten minutes long. If that," you reminded her. But damn, she was right. This dress fit you very well. "Thanks for having an emotional breakdown in the middle of the dress shop and kind of forcing me to buy this dress after I sat on the floor with it on."

She smiled at you as she dipped a chip into the fluff. "That's literally what I'm here for."

-------------------------

The following morning, Bradley pulled up to Petco Park with Bob and Everett in the Bronco just as the sun started to warm everything up for the day. He was getting married in an hour and a half. He felt jittery, but he wasn't nervous. He felt warm, but he wasn't uncomfortable. He felt like everything was the way he never knew, until very recently, that he wanted it to be.

"Ready, kiddo?" he asked Everett as he opened the back door. Everett scrambled into his arms and wrapped him in a hug around the neck.

"Yep!" he replied, and then the three of them were making their way into the Players Only Entrance where a security guard was waiting for them. "This is so cool," Everett whispered. The ballpark was basically deserted since the game didn't start until three o'clock, and they only passed a few other staff members as they entered the Padres locker room.

"Remember that fun tour we went on?" Bradley asked Everett as Bob held the door for them. He kissed his stepson on the cheek before setting him down on one of the benches.

Everett muttered, "Yeah," as he looked all around the room in awe. "But we went in the visiting team locker room."

Bradley laughed and looked around as well. "We sure did, because we wanted to see all the Phillies gear."

"Can we all go to Philadelphia?" Everett asked.

"Well, Philadelphia made it to the short list of vacation spots when I talked to your mom. We'll work on her. We already got a Phillies room out of her."

Everett was smiling nonstop as the three of them changed into their baseball jerseys in the same room where the Padres players would be putting on their uniforms in a few hours for their game against the Rockies. Bradley checked himself out in the mirror. They all matched, more or less, in their white jerseys with gold stitching and letters. Molly had been in charge of ordering them from a small boutique shop. Everett's said GRAND SLAM on the back. Bob's just said BOB. And Bradley's said GROOM; he was a little surprised his didn't come back saying TURD-IN-LAW to be honest.

When the security guard poked his head inside and said, "You can go out onto the field now," Bradley's heart started pounding. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he put his Phillies cap on backwards. Then he put Everett's on him backwards and picked him up again.

"I love you, Ev," he whispered, tears gathering in his eyes. Bradley was in some ways more emotional about becoming Everett's stepdad than he was about marrying you. Because it was like a bonus. A little extra responsibility he never planned for. Falling in love with you was one thing, but this was something else entirely. Every time he looked at his kid, he saw innocent trust returned to him, and all Bradley wanted to do was make him feel safe and loved.

"I love you, Dad," he replied, like it was already the most natural thing in the world. And Bradley supposed it was. Because the two of them seemed to be cut from the same cloth. And Bradley was more than happy to step into the role of a father for this child.

When Bradley turned to Bob, he asked, "You have the rings?"

"In my pocket," he promised, and then the three of them were on their way. They walked quietly through the tunnel and out onto the turf. Everything smelled fresh, like grass and damp earth. Everett's head was on a swivel, looking all around, just like when they took the ballpark tour months ago.

They were being waved over to home plate by John, their tour guide from that very special day. "It's nice to see you again," he said, shaking hands with Bradley. "I've just been informed that your bride is on her way up from the other locker room."

"Thanks," Bradley muttered, anxious to see you and be with you. He held onto Everett a little tighter as they waited, and he laughed softly. Somehow you managed to pull off this wedding, and the fact that Jake was the one who helped you do it was almost too funny.

"Hi, Mommy!" Everett called, waving his hand as Bradley whirled around to find you walking out onto the infield. A strangled noise escaped him as you made your way closer with a soft smile on your lips. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. It was the only word to describe the day and how he felt and how you looked with Molly holding the bunched up bottom of your wedding dress.

"Kitten," he whispered, feeling short of breath as you joined him on home plate. Your dress was simple but beautiful, and Bradley wasn't ashamed to admit that he couldn't stop glancing at your tits. But it was the smile on your face that had him grinning, too.

When you leaned in to kiss Everett's cheek, Bradley took your chin in his palm and tried to kiss you. "Stop it!" Molly screeched as she finished straightening out your wedding dress. Bradley froze as she added, "You're not supposed to kiss her until John says it's time! Have you never been to a wedding before?"

"I'm so happy I'm gaining not only a wife and son today, but also such a lovely sister-in-law," he told her in response.

Molly smiled sweetly at him. "You should be delighted."

"Can we get married now?" you asked with a laugh, and Bradley set Everett gently down next to home plate.

"It's the only reason I'm here," he promised, taking your hands in his. "To marry my beautiful Kitten and live happily ever after."

You smiled at him as he pulled you a little closer. Everett was practically standing between the two of you, so excited for what was to come, and Bob and Molly stood next to John.

"Ready?" When everyone nodded, John said a few words about how he was pleased that he could perform this short ceremony today after being the one who gave them the tour of Petco Park. He told them that they made him smile so many times that day as they interacted with each other. And then he asked if you and Bradley wanted to say anything to each other.

"I'll go first," you said, ducking your head for a beat before you looked Bradley in the eyes. "The first day we met...the first day of tee ball...I took one look at you interacting with Everett, and I thought maybe there was a small chance that it wouldn't have to be just the two of us forever." You let go of Bradley's left hand and smiled at Everett as you ran your fingers along his cheek. "Not that there was anything wrong with the two of us, Ev. You know that, right?"

Everett nodded and told you, "I know."

"We were so close to perfect. But Bradley makes us even better," you said, looking up to meet his eyes again. You studied him for a beat, and Bradley watched your eyes fill with tears. "It's hard to explain how you make me feel so confident, when at the same time, you make me feel like you'll be strong when I can't."

"Kitten," he whispered, wiping your tears as they fell.

"I love you, Coach," you said with a soft laugh through your watery eyes that had him smiling and shaking his head. "You belong with us."

"I really do," he agreed.

"Your turn," you whispered, and with a nod, Bradley knelt down in the dirt next to home plate, his jeans getting messy in the process.

"Hey, kiddo," he whispered to Everett, loud enough that you could still hear him.

"Hi, Dad," he replied, and Bradley wrapped him up in his arms as he started to cry.

"Thanks for letting me marry your mom," Bradley told him, his voice a little rough as he kissed Everett's forehead. "And thanks for letting me be your dad. I'm going to make some promises to you, okay?"

"Okay," Everett said with a little shrug that made Bradley chuckle.

He wiped at his tears as he said, "I promise to play baseball with you in the park all the time. At least until your mom gets annoyed. And I promise we'll watch the Phillies together in Philadelphia, because it's the only way to see the Phanatic up close."

"Yes!" Everett said, clapping his hands.

"And I promise to help you with your homework and make you pancakes and collect baseball cards together. And we can do anything else you decide you want to do, okay? Because I love you, kiddo."

Everett hugged him again, and when Bradley stood and looked at you, he was crying in earnest. "Kitten, I love your son just as much as I love you."

"I know it," you whispered, crying as well.

He took a deep breath and laughed. "Are you ready for your promises, Kitten?" When you nodded he took your hands in his again. "In front of Ev, Molly and Bob, and this immaculate turf at Petco Park, I promise I love you more than baseball."

You started laughing through your tears, and Bradley turned to see Molly wiping her own tears on Bob's jersey.

"That's a lot of love," you told him, squeezing his hands.

He nodded, pulling both of your hands so they were around his waist. "I promise I love you more than the Phillies. And I always will." He let his forehead come to rest against yours and said, "And if you'll let me be strong for you sometimes when you need it, then that's an honor, Kitten. Because you're the strongest person I know. But I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere." Your eyes closed as Bradley's lips brushed your forehead and his hands slipped around your waist. "John, I'm ready to kiss my wife."

"By all means," he replied, "go right ahead."

Your hands were around Bradley's neck, nudging his backward cap and pulling him closer, and then he was kissing you while your little cheering section of four people went wild.

"I love you," he promised against your lips, but you pulled him in for more with a smile. He brushed your nose with his and kissed you one last time. Then Bob was holding out one ring on each palm, and you let Bradley slip yours on before you took his left hand in yours. His ring looked perfect after you slid it into place. And then Everett was reaching for him, and Bradley scooped him up while you hugged your sister and kissed Bob's cheek.

"You're really my dad now," Everett said, letting his head come to rest on Bradley's shoulder.

Bradley held him close. "I think I already kind of was."

--------------------------

The fact that your wedding reception consisted of ballpark food and cheap beer in one of the Padres' suites had you and Bradley smiling nonstop. The two of you had taken wedding photos while the park was still empty, and most of the shots were of the three of you.

"Could I interest you in some nachos, Kitten?" Bradley asked, stealing a chip as he handed you a tray.

"Thanks, Coach," you said, kissing his cheek. "You know, I don't think we give Bob enough credit."

"What do you mean?" he asked, dipping another chip into the cheese and eating it.

"Well, we only met because he got you to coach the team with him in the first place. And he kind of let you bully me into being the Team Mom."

Bradley shook his head. "That seems like ages, not just just five months. You'd wear your little black skirt to practices and prance across the grass in your high heels. Fuck, you're so sexy." You giggled as he kissed you behind your ear. "And your tits look amazing in your dress."

"You can thank Molly for making me buy this one."

Bradley glanced toward where Molly and Bob were making out in the corner. His hands were all over the barely noticeable swell of her pregnant belly, and she was raking her fingers through his hair. "Nah, Bob's busy thanking her himself at the moment."

As more guests showed up just before the game started, you watched Nat squirt some ketchup onto a hotdog for Everett. And then you watched Bradley hold a napkin up while he ate it, just like he always did. The two of them were so shockingly similar, it was jarring at times when you remembered that Danny was Everett's biological father.

"Talk about an upgrade," you whispered, taking a sip of beer before you went to greet Maverick. You barely watched the game, too busy chatting with your friends and kissing Bradley nonstop. But the Padres won which made Bradley and Everett happy, so it made you happy, too.

And then by six o'clock, you had an exhausted seven year old son on your hands. He was crashing from all the snacks and the excitement of the day. "Time to head home," Bradley said, picking Everett up and kissing your lips. "And then we can send Ev off with my delightful sister-in-law."

You looked up at him, confused. "What do you mean? Ev's going to their condo for the night?"

"Two nights. I'm taking you to Palm Springs," he told you with a smirk. "We're having a real honeymoon now, and then I was thinking over winter break, we could take a family trip to Disney World?"

You threw yourself at him, and he collected you in his other arm. "That sounds perfect." You'd never been to Palm Springs or Disney World, but suddenly you wanted to go everywhere with him.

"You said Philadelphia," Everett whined in Bradley's grasp.

Bradley kissed his forehead. "That'll be in the spring, silly. Gotta go when the Phanatic is active in his natural habitat."

Your heart pounded as you walked out across the parking lot to the Bronco. Because it turned out Molly had been keeping two secrets today: one for Bradley and one for you and Ev. You didn't expect to be this nervous, but here you were, barely able to get your seatbelt buckled around your dress.

Bradley was sweet and gentle, taking the buckle from your shaking hands. "Are you okay, Kitten?" he asked, the dying sunlight turning his eyes a deep amber.

"Yes. Just can't wait to get home. Ev and I have a special wedding gift for you."

"Well, I can't wait either."

You bit your lip and looked out the window as you muttered, "Hope you like it."

Because Molly was the one driving her car, she and Bob got back to your house first. She was unlocking the front door so Bradley could carry Everett inside while he yawned. "We'll be out on the back deck," Molly said, taking Bob by the hand. "Let us know when Ev is all ready for his sleepover."

Now Bradley was the one who looked confused as they closed the back door behind them, leaving the three of you alone in the living room. "Ev's bag is already packed," Bradley said. "He can go with them anytime."

"That's true." You felt too hot in your wedding dress now, thinking you might need to take a minute to yourself. But then Everett was climbing out of Bradley's arms and reaching for the box you'd stashed under the couch.

"Can we give it to him?" he asked, looking up at you for permission with wide, innocent eyes.

"Yeah," you whispered, running your hand over your chest, trying to calm the pounding of your heart. Your eye caught on the baseball covered in hearts that Bradley had used to propose to you where it sat on your mantle. He belonged here with both of you, and you wanted Everett to have every opportunity to live his best life. "We can give it to him."

Then Everett thrust the wrapped box into Bradley's hands, and you realized you were both staring at him. You reached for your son, pulling him closer to you as Bradley shook the box a little bit. "This is for me?"

"Yes," you and Everett said in unison, but now you felt like you were going to be sick as he started to rip into the silver paper. And then he was opening the box.

A smile lit Bradley's face as he set the box aside and held up a Phillies jersey, examining the front of it. "I love it," he said, nodding his head. "But it looks a little small for me, doesn't it?"

You pressed your lips together as you squeezed Everett's shoulder. "Look at the back," you told him, your voice a little shaky.

Bradley turned it around and read it. "Bradshaw. But it's a child's size." When he met your eyes, you could barely see through your tears, and you even sensed that Everett was anxious now.

"It's not for you, Coach," you informed him softly. Then you looked down at your son for a beat as you said, "It's for Ev. This is just our way of asking you if you'd like to be Everett's father. If you'd like to adopt him."

You watched Bradley's lips part, but no words came out. He was looking between the two of you in awe as tears seemed to fill his eyes. Then he read the back of the jersey again as he sobbed. "Come here," he whispered, kneeling down in front of Everett and tucking the jersey under his arm. "Is that what you want, kiddo?"

Everett wrapped his arms around Bradley's neck and said, "Yes."

Then Bradley looked up at you with tears in his eyes. "You'd let me?"

"Yes!" you said, now crying as well. "It's what we want."

He buried his face in Everett's neck and squeezed him. "Yes, I want to adopt you, Ev," he managed. As he stood with Everett in his arms, he kissed you and whispered, "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

"We can do it soon," you told him, hugging him a little awkwardly as he held Everett. "I'll have my lawyer change my petition from child support to adoption. We can get new papers served. No more Danny. We don't need the money anyway. Not like we need you, Coach."

Bradley leaned down and kissed you. "First thing when we get back from Palm Springs, Kitten. Let's get this ball rolling. You won't have to worry about custody or Danny anymore. You won't even have to think about it. And I'll get my bonus," he told Everett with a grin. "A son to go along with my wife."

-------------------------------

Married! Adopting Ev! Happiness! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 30

Don't forget to check out Bob and Molly in The Curveball!

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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memorabxlia · 16 days ago

Text

Silent Cry ━ 여상

genre: hurt/comfort summary: will you be saved in enough time? warnings: attempted suicide, mental health topics, harassment, bullying, insecurity, mentions depression pairing: idol!yeosang x fem!reader wc: 1.3k a/n: this fic is not for the faint-hearted. If any of the topics above are triggering for you, I highly recommend not reading this. However, if you choose to proceed, you are reading at your own risk. nets: @blossomnet @k-labels @k-films

"You know, the others can't stop talking about you." Yeosang's voice is soft, tender, the way it always is when the two of you are alone. You're curled up next to him on the couch in your shared home, his arm draped over your shoulders as you rest your head on his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat is calming, like a lullaby.

You smile at his words, though the weight on your chest doesn't lift. The members—Wooyoung, San, Seonghwa, Mingi, all of them—have been nothing but kind to you since you started dating Yeosang. They treat you like family, as if you've been part of their lives for years. But no matter how much they adore you, how many times they assure you that you're loved and welcome, it doesn't change the fact that a different kind of attention lingers on the edges of your happiness.

The fans.

You scroll through the comments more often than you should. It's hard not to. Every post, every picture of you with Yeosang, is flooded with messages. Some supportive, but too many are venomous.

_"You don't deserve him."_

_"He could do better."_

_"She's not even that pretty. He should be with someone skinnier."_

The words sting, no matter how many times you tell yourself they don't. And it's not just the comments. They've started leaking into your private messages, too. Fans telling you to end it, to let Yeosang go so he can be with someone they think is worthy of him. Sometimes, they even threaten you. Not directly, but in the veiled way that makes your skin crawl.

You haven't told Yeosang about it. You don't want to burden him. He's already got so much on his plate with the group, the fans, the media. You don't want to add to that.

But it's getting harder to ignore.

"Hey," Yeosang's voice pulls you from your thoughts. "Are you okay? You've been really quiet."

You tilt your head up to look at him, his dark eyes full of concern. You hate that look. It makes you feel like you're worrying him, like you're dragging him down into your mess. You force a smile.

"I'm fine," you lie, and he doesn't seem convinced.

"Are you sure?" he presses, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

"I know," you mumble, sitting up a little. You look down at your phone, your fingers itching to open the messages you've been ignoring all day. You don't, though. Not while he's watching. "I'm just tired."

He watches you for a moment longer, clearly not buying your excuse, but he doesn't push. Instead, he shifts, wrapping his arms around you again and pulling you closer.

"If you're tired, let's go to bed," he suggests softly, his breath warm against your skin. "We can talk tomorrow."

You nod, even though you know you won't sleep. Your mind will race all night, replaying every hurtful comment, every cruel message, until you feel like you're suffocating.

The next day is worse. You wake up to more messages, more hateful words. You can't escape it. No matter how much you try to stay off social media, it's like the negativity follows you. You start to wonder if they're right. Maybe Yeosang would be better off without you. Maybe he deserves someone prettier, skinnier, someone who fits the image the fans have in their heads.

You try to brush it off, but by midday, it's too much. You can't keep pretending everything's fine.

So you send Yeosang a text.

*I love you. I just want to say thank you for everything. For all the love you've shown me.*

You stare at the message for a long time before hitting send. You don't know what you expect him to say, but it doesn't matter. You just need to tell him. You need him to know how much you appreciate him, even if things fall apart.

When Yeosang reads the message, it immediately sets off alarms in his head. He knows you. He knows when something isn't right, and this—this message feels like a goodbye. He doesn't bother replying. Instead, he rushes out of the practice room, ignoring the confused looks from the other members, and drives as fast as he can to your shared home.

You're standing on the edge of the balcony when he bursts through the door, your hands gripping the railing so tightly your knuckles turn white.

"Don't," you say, your voice shaking as you hear him approach. "Don't come any closer."

Yeosang freezes, his heart pounding in his chest. He's never seen you like this—so broken, so fragile. He doesn't know what to do, but he knows he can't lose you.

"Please," he whispers, his voice cracking as he takes a cautious step forward. "Just come down, okay? We can talk. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"You don't understand," you choke out, your vision blurred by tears. "I can't do this anymore. The fans—they hate me. They hate me, and I can't take it. I'm ruining everything for you."

Yeosang's eyes widen in horror. The fans? This is because of them?

"You're not ruining anything," he insists, his voice stronger now, desperate. "I love you. You, not them. Don't listen to them, please. Just... step down. We'll figure it out together, I swear."

You shake your head, the tears spilling over. "I can't..."

Yeosang tries to move closer, but he stumbles, tripping over his own feet in his haste. The sudden motion startles you, and before you realize what's happening, your foot slips, and you're tumbling over the edge.

But before the ground can meet you, strong arms catch you.

"Mingi!" Yeosang's voice is full of relief as he watches the taller member steady you in his arms. Mingi had followed Yeosang, concerned when he saw his friend's panic. He'd arrived just in time to catch you.

"You okay?" Mingi asks gently, his arms still around you as you tremble in his grasp.

You nod weakly, but you can't find the words to thank him. Your mind is still spinning, too overwhelmed by everything.

Yeosang rushes down to where you and Mingi are, his hands shaking as he reaches for you. "Thank you," he breathes, his voice cracking again as he takes you from Mingi's arms. "I'll—I'll thank you properly later, I promise."

Mingi just nods, giving you both a worried look before stepping back to give you space.

Yeosang holds you close as he leads you back inside your home, his arms wrapped tightly around you like he's afraid to let go. You sit down on the couch together, and for a long moment, neither of you say anything.

Finally, Yeosang speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why?"

You can't look at him. You stare at your hands, your fingers trembling as you try to form the words. "It's... it's the fans," you mumble, your voice weak and broken. "They... they hate me. They keep saying I don't deserve you. That I'm not good enough, that I'm ruining everything for you."

Yeosang's heart shatters at your words. He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "You're not ruining anything," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't care what they say. You're the one I love. You're the one I want. No one else."

You try to respond, but the words catch in your throat, and all you can do is sob into his chest.

Yeosang holds you tighter, whispering soft reassurances, sweet nothings, until your breathing starts to slow, your sobs quieting.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

"Don't apologize," he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm sorry. I should've seen how much this was hurting you."

You shake your head, but he doesn't let you argue. He just holds you, whispering that everything will be okay, that you're not alone, that he'll always be there.

Eventually, the exhaustion takes over, and you fall asleep in his arms, your head resting against his chest. Yeosang stays awake a little longer, his fingers brushing gently through your hair as he holds you close, vowing to protect you from the world, from the fans, from everything that tries to hurt you.

Because to him, you're all that matters.

❥﹒ ateez taglist: @minkilicious

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trippinsorrows · 4 months ago

Note

I feel like this is another multiverse type question. But say Solana wasn’t in the situation she was in and Roman was very much so attracted to her as he is now. How do you think Roman would have approached her ?

this is such an interesting question!

hmmm.

under the read more cause this got longer than i intended lol

roman was bored, ready to go. functions were never his thing. he always attended out of obligation and necessity. never want. and considering he's been present for an hour, he more than feels he's done what he needed to do.

he pulls out his phone to text paul to have the car pulled for him, ready for his wise man to foolishly try to convince him to stay when a body collides into him.

soft is one of the first things to hit him followed by a sweet, vanilla almond scent that's more than pleasing to all of his senses. his arm naturally reaches to brace the person who collided with him, a person he right away knows is a woman, both by the soft curves of her body but also the fragrance.

"oh my god." the voice. so soft and sweet, almost too sugary, too angelic for such a function, full of the world's most dangerous people. such a stark contrast. "i'm so sor---"

she's silenced, and roman is momentarily taken back as the two of them lock gazes. beautiful, big brown eyes widened in alarm that's most likely due to her recognizing who he is. "mr. reigns...."

roman is partially paying attention to her words but mostly taking his sweet time taking all of her in. her face is absolutely stunning, and roman can tell it's not just because of the beautifully done makeup. he can see natural beauty beneath that. her hair is pulled up into a fancy updo, but her full lips snatch his focus before he rakes his eyes over her body, even curvier than he realized. cleavage on full display in her red dress that hugs her perfectly. she's a tiny little thing. a good foot shorter to him, but there's no denying it.

she's fucking stunning.

and she's still fucking apologizing. "i'm so sor---"

"it's fine." anyone else, and it wouldn't be. but there's something about this woman with the soft voice, light eyes, and alluring body that has him not as irritated as he normally would be. "it was an accident."

she nods, clearly nervous, when she looks over her shoulder, as if looking for something. or someone.

suddenly curious, he asks, "who are you--"

"oh no," she interrupts him, an unintentional thing, as she offers what looks like an apologetic look. she holds up the bottom of her red gown to move past him. however, roman finds himself moving his arm to bar her, holding her. he has to stop himself from thinking too much about the almost natural feeling he experiences in and with touching her.

"i---"

"there you are."

roman breaks his stare with the woman to see none other than ethan fucking page. he scoffs. no wonder she's running.

this bastard is insufferable.

page clears his throat and gives roman a nod. "mr. reigns, i apologize for the interruption." his gaze falls on the woman who almost moves closer to roman, practically holding onto him. it's obvious she's uncomfortable as hell. has to be for good reason too. "just need to speak to---"

"she's with me."

it comes out without much thought, both page and the unnamed woman looking at him with equal surprise.

page removes his glasses, looking at her, "solana?"

solana

unique. pretty. fitting.

she swallows. "i---" and just like that, she seems prepared to ruin this save roman has provided her, though he hasn't the slightest idea why he's giving her a save. yet, here he is.

"get lost, page." roman's tone shifts into something darker, something that's very reminiscent of the reason that he's easily the most feared man in the room. "i won't repeat myself."

i.e. get lost, or i'll snap your neck. an unspoken threat that's clearly understood, because page murmurs something that's probably an apology. and then he's gone, leaving roman alone yet again with this solana.

looking back at her, she gives him a small smile. roman is quickly realizing she's even prettier when she smiles. "thank you."

roman nods, asking, even though he doesn't know why, "what's the story?"

her smile drops into a frown that roman finds himself wanting to wipe off her face. "ethan....he doesn't know how to take 'no' for an answer." she shakes her head, scoffing quietly. "he shows up to my store at least once a week just to ask me out, even though the answer is always no."

"where do you work?" it's not that roman necessarily wants or even needs to know this piece of information, but there's a thought of breaking both page's knees and providing specifics when he does as such, such as the name of the place he's never to step foot in again, which could be....helpful.

roman is thankful when the smile returns, not as bright but still present. he'll take it. "i own a bookstore in town. nina's." his curiosity must be visible. "my mother's name. we share a love of books."

he makes a sound. everything he's learned in the less than twenty minutes he's known about this girl makes all the sense in the world. of course, her name is different, unlike any name for a woman he's heard of. of course, she has trouble fending off an asshole like page. and of course she likes books.

she clears her throat, finally breaking away. roman didn't even realize he was still holding her. "thank you again, mr. reigns."

"roman," he corrects. "call me roman."

she swallows, voice softening, "roman...."

he's not sure he's ever enjoyed hearing his name as much as he likes hearing it on her mouth. he'd love to hear it even more if she was screaming it, moaning it as he fucked her, kneading those beautiful, soft breast of hers.

fuck

"why are you looking at me like that?" she asks in that same sweet, almost innocent voice.

his eyes twinkle with mischief. "do you really need to ask?"

solana shifts bit, playing with her hands, hinting at some nervousness. "i'm not like that."

roman is almost certain he knows what she's saying, but he makes sure, regardless. "and what is that?"

her mouth shifts into a small smirk. "do you really need to ask?"

and for the first time tonight, roman smiles.

this girl is unlike any he's met before.

continuously intrigued, he asks, "what's your last name?"

she answers, "miller."

recognition dawns after a couple seconds for him. "xavier and nina...you're the daughter?"

he's always heard they had another child other than wesley, but he'd never seen her at one of these functions. didn't even realize it was a daughter.

a beautiful daughter at that.

she nods. "i don't typically attend these sorts of things."

"you should," he finds himself suggesting. roman isn't the biggest flirter, doesn't need to. women flock to him like moths to flame, but there's something about this woman... he steps closer to her, hand reaching out to run his finger along her cheek. "how else am i going to see you?"

she seems taken back, cheeks turning pink, but she takes him by surprise with her reply, "you could come see me."

his chuckle is dark and his tone suggestive. "oh, i don't think coming will be an issue."

and her cheeks deepen in color, as she announces, "i should go find my brother."

eyes falling to her chest, he asks, "should you?"

solana smiles and diverts her gaze, slightly disappointing him when she steps back. "goodbye, roman."

he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his custom suit pants. "not goodbye," he correct. "just goodnight."

because there's no doubt in roman reigns mind that this was the last time he'll ever see solana miller.

far from it.

#ltye ask #ari answers #ltye short

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