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urprettylildoe · 2 months ago

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𝒮𝒽𝒶𝒸𝓀𝓁ℯ𝒹

♡ yandere football player x fem reader ♡ Every girl wanted to be with him and every guy wanted to be him, and to everyone around the world he was considered the embodiment of perfection. But there's more to what meets the eye, and you're one of the only people who know that very well. ♡ word count: 1.9k words ♡ warnings: yandere/obsessive behaviour, dependency, toxic relationship, kidnapping, attempted drugging, very brief and implied self-harm, nsfw (non-con)

His team had won yet again.

Critics weren't just analysing the performance itself but one particular figure that always made his presence known; whether it was deliberate or natural.

Looks, money, charisma, talent; what characteristic didn't the renowned football star possess?

Blake's motivator was his love for things that kept him on his toes and sent a rush of excitement through his veins.

The constant chanting of his name from the crowds was like music to his ears. He waved and shot them a pretty smile adorned with dimples that would surely make magazine covers.

Cameras zoomed in on each of the team players as they walked out of the field. Pushing the hair out of his eyes, he stared into the camera.

The world out there didn't know that it was reserved for one particular person, and they knew who they were.

A message.

I know you're watching.

♡

"And how do you feel about today's performance?" The lady smiled almost too brightly, holding the microphone up towards him.

"I think we gave it our all today and I couldn't have done without my team," he enthusiastically recited as if he hadn't been practising with his manager for the perfect PR response to the questions. Blake was a natural in front of the camera — he threw in some jokes and made sure to flash those pearly whites every now and then.

The interviewer chuckled, "Oh please, don't be so modest. You were amazing out there, Blake. Give yourself some credit, will ya?"

A few more minutes passed with them going back and forth before he was finally asked million dollar question:

"so, we're all dying to know, any relationship updates we should be aware of?"

For a split second, his flawless facade cracked and his smile faltered, his jaw ticking with something unpleasant. Then, almost as if nothing happened, his expression turned carefully neutral and he maintained a polite smile, "my personal life is just that, personal."

Translation: i'm not answering that. In any other situation, he'd have no problem saying it directly, but he'd rather not listen to his agent talking his ear off about it later.

But the woman obviously did not pick up on the implication and if she did, she didn't mention it. Instead, she leaned in and brushed her hand against his bicep at an attempt of subtle flirting, "Oh, come on. You're one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. Surely there's someone special in your life?"

He feigned embarrassment rather than expressing his anger and scratched the back of his head, "you're really putting me on the spot here." He paused, then added, "i'm just focused on my career at the moment. And as they say, good things come to those who wait, right?"

His answer shut the interviewer down and the last line did have some truth to it. Patience is a virtue.

♡

Pushing the bathroom door open, his hands gripped one of the sinks and he took a moment to calm his nerves.

They don't know. They don't know. It's okay.

His gaze dropped to the scar marring his otherwise perfect skin in the mirror, right under his bottom lip. Yet, instead of frustration like his manager had expressed with utter disappointment, warmth he was all too familiar with fluttered in his chest.

This was no burden, but a gift from his favourite little songbird after one of her many tantrums of be let out of the golden cage. Though it is a hassle to calm her back down, he did cherish the mark imprinted on his skin.

Blake tutted, eyes narrowing as he scrutinised it further. It was fading; he'll need to fix that up soon enough.

He shrugged on a jacket and drove home in his sleek car, ready to finally relax. The day drained him of all his energy.

Or perhaps it didn't, because when he reached his home, all of the anger bubbled up to the surface. Patience was not a virtue, because his had reached its limit because of a certain dove.

♡

Tonight was the night.

The night where you would finally be free of the shackles that bound you to that horrible, horrible man.

Blake.

To his fans and the world, he's a passionate and talented athlete. To you? He's a monster. One that stripped you off everything you've known, one that kept you for his selfish desires, one that held a warped version of 'love' in his heart.

You wanted to flee. Not even tell the police, just run far, far away where he couldn't reach you, where you would be your own person and not some pretty ornament he'd come home to admire every day.

Sanity hanging by a thread, you slipped down the marble stairs in just your socks and cute pajamas. Any captive should have injuries and tattered clothes. Except, your captor wasn't normal. And while you didn't have any physical injuries, you were still hurt.

You were supposed to be asleep, if everything went according to his plan (which usually did). The opportunity was too good to pass up; he was leaving for a match for hours. When he had given you the pill with a fond smile, you returned it and made an act of swallowing, all while keeping it under your tongue. The doors were locked due to his paranoia so you couldn't escape through there. Not to mention your hands and feet were tied, so you spent time on those too.

Finally, the makeshift rope was ready. Hours of twisting bedsheets together finally paid off and now you were ready.

One look out the window and you were already nauseous. It was such a high drop and you weren't willing to die, not yet at least. The rope tumbled down till it nearly reached the bottom, only a few feet off the garden grounds.

In and out. Nothing is going to happen.

Wrapping your limbs around the clothing, your hands clenched around it. Your eyes closed and you let yourself slide. Breathing fresh air felt true bliss, like this was your first time.

When you reached the bottom, your knees trembled with the gravity of what's going on. The closest thing you let out to a relieved sigh was a choked sound out of your throat.

You were free. You. Were. Free.

No more punishments, no more suffering, no more of his constricting love, no more-

maniacal laughter rings through the air sharply, making you halt. No.

You'd recognise it anywhere, even if you didn't want to.

"Wow, I leave for a few hours and come back to this?" He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye in amusement, though you caught a vein in his forehead throbbing. "You surprise me every time, baby. Though I gotta admit i'm a little...hurt."

Your heart stopped and you took a step back, whipping around to face him. Such beauty he had, but so undeserving of it. Your nails had dug blood out of your palms, making them dully ache however not as deep as his confessions of 'love' would pierce your heart.

He didn't have nothing in that chest but rotting flesh.

"Now, now, none of that." He grinned as he followed your steps with his longer, stronger legs and you could only pray that he showed mercy. "You really didn't think you'd get away, did you? You truly do underestimate the lengths I'd go for you.

I give you the most beautiful home, the finest foods — my love. And this is how you repay? By running away from me? From us?"

His voice progressively got louder with each word. You really pushed him to the limits.

"I-I'm sorry-"

Cutting you off, large hands shaky with barely concealed raged cluched either sides of your head, "shh, I know you are. But sorry isn't enough anymore."

It wasn't a normal, torturous kind of punishment — no, you wished it was. You wondered if falling from the window was a better fate than this.

His voice softened at your sniffles, almost as if he was comforting you, shielding from a danger that nothing seemed to poise but him. "Hey, hey, don't cry. C'mon, my dove. If you're good, I won't go too hard on you."

Cries spilled past your lips, begging him that you were sorry and that you weren't going to do it again.

And really, you were never going to. Not after what he did to you afterwards.

You were reduced to a small ball to shivers and hiccups underneath Blake on the soft, fluid-stained sheets. The pink sleepwear was discarded on the floor. Equally bare, his muscles from all the training were on display. He was now beaming affectionately as he watched your tuckered out expression.

This wasn't the first time you've been violated, obviously. But this time it felt worse, like the pain of reality came crashing down on you like a tsunami ten times harder than before. It didn't help that he kept on whispering sweet threats in your ear.

He had branded your skin roughly and taken you, only to cradle you gently with a lover's touch. The drug he had injected you with made you a willing participant in his game, made you ache with desire for the one being you wanted to hate.

You slurred like a broken record, unsure of what was even going on anymore, "m'sorry, I didn't mean to...hic"

"It's okay, it's okay" he sang softly, brushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes, "y'know punishing you hurts me more than it does you, but I had to do this, you were trying to leave me, sweet thing."

A small, hidden part of you still wanted to fight for your freedom, to save yourself.

"you're so silly, thinking anyone would believe you if you ran away." He cooed, peppering loving kisses all over your face.

You closed your eyes and weakly whimpered. They would believe you, they would. Wouldn't they?

"Sometimes, the thoughts become too much for that pretty little head, don't they? You can't possible take all of it at once. But that's why i'm here. To protect you from every bad thing in the world."

His hand cupped your cheek as he tilted his head down, pressing his lips against your forehead, "I'll give you the world. Just — promise not to leave me again"

The sentences tumbling out his mouth just made you feel even more horrible.

You were broken. You had tried to convince yourself otherwise, but it was all in vain. He had shattered you into pieces and rebuilt you to fit his preferences. If you looked into the mirror right now, you don't think you would recognise yourself.

Maybe he was right. Maybe you weren't cut out for the world, maybe there were dangerous things out to get you, maybe safety was in his arms.

"Rest, i'll take care of you"

You let your eyes droop shut. Yeah, that sounded about right. He'll take care of you.

Once you finally nestled against the comfort of his chest with tiny snores, was he finally able to celebrate another accomplishment. He can't remember the last time he didn't have something he wanted, even if his beautiful dove was putting up a fight against him.

♡

Yours truly,

@urprettylildoe

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javierpena-inatacvest · 11 months ago

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Fever

Summary: You're ovulating- It's that time of month where you find yourself turning into an unspeakably horny monster with just one problem that Javi knows exactly how to help you fix.

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.7K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also, who am I to say?) oral (m and f receiving), vaginal fingering, paise kink, an unspeakably explicit breeding kink (I ain't sorry about it), creampie, cum play, talks of starting a family, calling Javi "Daddy" and meaning it (help), the sweetest softest sex, yet somehow the filthiest, nastiest sex at the same time??? god these two love each other so much it makes me SICK

A/N: ... If you know me, no you don't. I'm so sorry y'all, I am ovulating and absolutely FERAL, I am truly thinking that someone may need to come put me down at this point because.... yeah... raise your hand if you're surprised Madeline has yet another story with Javier Peña and a big, fat, nasty breeding kink?! Oh look!! It's no one!!! ANYWHO, don't mind me while I foam at the mouth for the next 24-48 hours, BYEEEEEEEEEE

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

If there was one thing that you knew about Javi, it was that he was one of the most handsome, attractive men you had ever met.

His dark, curly hair.

His mustache.

His sweet brown puppy dog eyes.

His absolutely incomprehensible shoulder to waist ratio.

Your husband had it all. That, you knew for a fact.

Truth be told, there wasn’t really much that you ever thought Javi could do to be hotter than he already was.

That was until a few months ago, when you had recently stopped taking your birth control and you could quite literally feel yourself morph into the insatiably feral, horny mess that you became when you were ovulating.

And when that was the case, not only was he the hottest man you had ever laid eyes on in your entire life, you were quite literally ready to rip his clothes right off of him at every single opportunity possible.

You could practically feel the change in your body when you woke up this morning- the soft sunlight of Saturday morning spilling through your curtains as you rolled over to see Javi, mouth slightly agape as he snored, face buried in his pillow and messy brown curls flopping over his head.

God, does he always look this hot when he sleeps? You thought to yourself, slowly stirring awake, stretching your arms over your head before creeping out of bed to make yourself some coffee to bring back upstairs with you while you waited for Javi to wake up.

As the bittersweet aroma and quiet, rhythmic drip of the coffee hitting the bottom of the pot began to gently rouse you from your sleepy state, you couldn’t help but shake the warm, stirring sensation in your stomach from the image of Javi sleeping next to you in bed.

Elbows propped up against the counter, chin resting in your palms, you closed your eyes, picturing him- His sweet soft smile as you kissed his plush lips, the way his big hands roamed across your hips and back as he pulled you closer to his chest, the bulge of his cock pressed against your thigh before he-

“What are you doing up, cariño?” Javi’s soft and sleepy voice cooed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his chest to your back as he planted a gentle kiss on your shoulder, his presence enough to snap you out of your daydream, but not enough to shake the dull ache that had been growing between your legs from the moment you woke up.

“I was just gonna make some coffee and bring it back up to bed. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, baby.” You sighed, a smirk growing between your cheeks as you turned around to face him, Javi now caging you between his body and the counter as his hands splayed planted on either side of you. He looked down at you with his half-awake gaze and sleepy smile, still in nothing but his boxers, his tanned skin and barely there freckles glowing in the morning sunlight creeping through your kitchen window.

“Don’t apologize, mi amor. Just wanted to know where my wife was. Glad I found her.” He chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, only pulling away to quietly whisper, “Good morning, hermosa.”

And while it was nothing but a simple good morning kiss, the way Javi’s lips met yours sent a spark off inside you, quickly leaning back to pull him closer to you as you draped his arms around his neck, a soft moan escaping from your parted mouth, feeling a grin growing across Javi’s face in response.

“Mhmmm, well, a very good morning to you then. My bedhead and morning breath really doin’ it for you, huh?” Javi smirked, lowering his hands to rest on your hips, gently toying with the waistband of your sleep shorts.

“Sorry, I uh- you just, God, you look really good this morning. Can we, um, ya know, maybe go back upstairs?” You stammered, so enamored with Javi’s presence that you could barely get a coherent thought out as you stared up at your husband, already feeling a damp patch beginning to grow in your underwear, stomach churning with arousal.

“Yeah? Mi esposa muy dulce (my sweet wife), you want me to-”

Ring, ring, ringggggg. Ring, ring, ringggggg. Ring, ring, ringggggg

“Who the fuck is calling me this early…”

Javi’s face scrunched in frustration at the sound of his cell phone ringing on the kitchen counter, reaching over you to see the expression in his face shift to concern as he read the caller ID, quickly opening up his phone to answer.

“Hey, Pops. What’s goin’ on? Everything okay? Again? Fuck… Yeah, just um- shit, yeah, I’ll be over in 30. Okay. Yup. Yeah, bye Pops.” Javi let out a deep sigh, running his hands over his face and through the sleep curled ends of his dark hair, his grumpy pout telling you that your morning was not going to go the way you thought it was 30 seconds ago. “The gate that Pops had installed last week fell down overnight and now all the cows are loose in the pasture… I gotta go over there and help him put it back up before it gets even worse. I’m so sorry, Hermosa.”

“It’s okay.” You shrugged, trying your best to mask your horny disappointment.

“It hopefully shouldn’t take that long. I should be back before lunchtime, okay? And when I get back, if you still want,” he paused, letting his palm slide along your jaw, cradling your cheek before pressing another soft kiss onto your lips, “We can pick up where we left off.”

“Promise?” You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yo prometo (I promise).”

Wanting to give Javi any chance of leaving the house without trapping him in your bedroom, you tried your best to keep yourself busy while he quickly got ready and grabbed his things to head to the Peña Ranch, giving him a quick kiss goodbye before watching him back out of your driveway in his truck, the image of him with one hand behind the passenger seat at the other with his palm to the steering wheel making you just about drop to your knees for reasons you thought you couldn’t explain.

You hoped that with Javi gone, you could at least be a little productive in getting some things done around the house before he returned, but it seemed like with everything that you did and anywhere you went in your house, you couldn’t help but find more reasons to add to the insatiable desire building in your core.

While you were trying to make breakfast, you couldn’t help but stare at Javi’s favorite coffee mug, the Empire Strikes Back cup he had claimed as his at your apartment when you had first started dating. You couldn’t keep yourself from imagining the width of his huge hands wrapping around it, dwarfing the mug in his grasp, thinking about how good those same hands would feel all over you.

After that, came trying to do the laundry, where you caught yourself sniffing Javi’s shirts, the overpowering and familiar scent of his cologne and sweat seeping through the fabric, driving you absolutely crazy, wishing you could find a way to drown in his scent.

Finally, in your very valiant effort to try and make your bed, you found yourself laying face down in Javi’s pillow, somehow leaving the sheets and comforters tangled and tossed about worse than you had found them.

“What the fuck is wrong with me today…” You whispered to yourself, now sitting on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels on your TV, somehow still even hornier than you were when you woke up this morning. You let your gaze wander away from the TV, examining the walls of your family room until you landed on your wedding photos hung across your wall, smiling to yourself as you looked at the portraits, reliving the moments of the happiest day of your life.

It wasn’t until you glanced at one of the photos of you and Javi surrounded by your family in a candid moment where Javi had hoisted your niece on his hip to dance with her during your reception, the image making your stomach flip with an overwhelming need. After doing the quick math in your head, it hit you like a thousand pound ton of bricks why you had been so worked up all goddamn day.

You were ovulating, and you needed Javi to put a baby into you right now.

As if the universe had magically heard your prayers, you turned your head to hear your garage door opening and the familiar stomp of Javi’s boot covered footsteps trudging down the hallway. Like a moth to a flame, your heart began to race as you watched Javi’s broad body approach you, your jaw practically dropping at his appearance.

Javi was now glistening with a light sheen of sweat, his curls sticking to his damp forehead, and the sleeves of his button down shirt now rolled up past his elbows, the buttons once done up to near his neck before he left now trailing open to the middle of his chest, exposing the warm glow of his tanned skin underneath.

“Hey hermosa, I’m home! Ended up being a way easier fix than Pops thought and- Oh!”

Before Javi could even get out the rest of his sentence, you were trapping his words in your own mouth, feverishly bringing your lips to his as you grabbed fistfulls of his shirt, kissing him like every bone in your body depended on it.

Javi stood there for a moment, almost dumbfounded and frozen, wondering what had warranted such a greeting before leaning in to reciprocate, snaking his hands to your sides and grabbing your waist, pulling away only to try and understand the reason for his passionate welcome.

“H-hi baby. Everything okay?”

“Mhmmmmmm.”

“Not that I’m mad about it, but I feel like you’re greeting me like I’m coming home from war.” Javi laughed to himself quietly, looking down at you with a smirking suspicion.

“I missed you. I need you so bad, Javi.” You moaned, pressing up to lock your lips to his again, this time Javi matching your intensity as your mouths crashed into each other.

“Is this all from this morning?” Javi managed to ask between parted kisses, his grip tightening around you as he pulled you closer to his chest.

“This morning,” you paused, beginning to kiss him between each thought, “right now,” your hands began to roam up his chest, sneaking under the fabric of his shirt, “all the time,” fingers now working at frantically undoing the buttons, “fuck, everything about you. You’re so fucking sexy, Javi. Do you know that? God, I’m so lucky.” At this point, it felt like the words were flowing out of you in a horny and unstoppable stream of consciousness, babbling between desperate kisses pressed against Javi’s lips. “I need you so bad. I want you fuck me, Javi. Fuck, I- I want you to put a baby in me.”

Your last sentence had Javi frozen in place once again, pulling away just to make sure he had heard you correctly, even though the boyish grin growing ear to ear across his face seemed to be enough confirmation. The two of you had been trying ever since you had gotten back from your honeymoon, but now that you were to the point that your birth control was out of your system and your cycle was back to normal, it felt just a little more real to the both of you.

“You want me to put a baby in you, mi amor? That what you want?” Javi groaned, his voice rumbling low in his chest as a hungry glaze painted itself across his chocolate brown eyes, making your pussy throb at hearing him say it back to you.

“Mhmmmmm.” You nodded frantically, too caught up in your own desire to find any words to string together into a coherent sentence. “I think I’m ovulating, so it could really happen this time. Please, baby, I-”

This time, it was Javi’s turn to cut you off, his arms scooping below your legs to hoist you up around him, legs locking around his hips as he carried you down the hallway towards your bedroom, your bodies banging and bumping against the walls and door frames in a frantic race to your bed without any regard for spatial awareness.

As soon as you were close enough, Javi was tossing you on the bed, frantically stripping himself of his shirt and working his way down to his jeans before he realized you were sitting up, already toying with his button and zipper. You pushed his pants down his legs, followed by his boxers, revealing his cock, fully erect and weeping with precum at the tip. It wasn’t long until you were scrambling off the bed and dropping to your knees in front of him, licking the salty tang of spend off his tip before he could protest that he needed to take care of you first.

“Hermosa, I- Oh fuckkkk-” He groaned, feeling your jaw go slack as you took his length into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks until you could feel him in the back of your throat, pulling back to look up at him with batted lashes as you kissed him up and down his shaft.

“I wanna suck your dick, Javi. Wanna show you how much I love it. Wanna feel you down my throat before you fuck me.” You moaned, rubbing your legs together to try and ease the ache between your legs, your pussy so wet and puffy that slick and arousal were dripping from your cunt and coating the inside of your thighs.

“Fuck me…” Javi muttered under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut to regain his composure before looking back down at you, slowly sucking at his tip, your tongue swirling around the sensitive ridges of his cock. “Okay, baby. Show me how bad you need me before I put my dick in your tight little pussy, huh?”

Inch by inch, you took him back down your throat until you were brushing up against the curls at his base, the sweet and musky scent of him filling your nostrils as you inhaled. “Oh fuck, Osita. Holy shit.” His voice rasped, hitching in the back of his throat watching your mouth fill with his cock. His fingers ran through your hair, tugging a little tighter as your pace began to quicken, his grunts and moans becoming louder with each push and pull. “Fuck, such a good girl taking me so well. So fucking pretty when you suck my cock baby, holy fuck.”

For as much as Javi wanted you to keep going until he was spilling down your throat, he needed to save every last drop for when he came inside you, fucking you full of him until he knew it took. Feeling his balls begin to draw up into his stomach, he forced himself to pull you off him, panting to catch his breath before he spoke. “I don’t wanna cum yet, baby, and if you keep going like that I’m gonna bust. Fuck, you’re so good to me. Lay down on the bed, Hermosa. Let me take care of you. Need to taste you.”

Instantly, Javi was pulling you up and sitting you on the bed, letting your back hit the mattress as he settled between your legs, tugging your bottoms off until they were in a crumpled pile on the floor. his hands slide down the inside of your thighs, pushing them apart to reveal the wet, slick, and puffy mess your pussy had already become without even being touched. Javi chuckled to himself, awestruck by the sight in front of him, kissing and nipping at the meat of your legs, teasing you with how dangerously close he was to your cunt and finally giving you what you needed.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, cariño.” Letting his hands shift down, his fingers ghosted across your core as his thumbs slid through the lips of your pussy, spreading it open even further, making you whimper in anticipation. “Goddamn, she’s so pretty. Prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen. Who’s pussy is this, baby girl?” He smirked, barely kissing your clit, driving you absolutely wild as you squirmed beneath his touch, desperate for him to do something, anything, to ease your ache.

“Y-yours, Javi. It’s all yours, baby. Only yours.” You whined, gazing down at him with a rampant need in your eyes, fisting at your bedsheets to find somewhere to try and release your tension.

“Fucking right it is.”

His head then dipped between your legs, arms draped across your stomach holding you in place as he began to eat you out like a man being served his last meal on this earth. Broad, flat strokes of his tongue slid between your folds, pressing against your clit with the perfect amount of pressure he knew would have you crumbling beneath him.

You couldn’t help but rithe under his touch, instinctively bucking your hips at his face, overwhelmed by the way Javi was relentlessly drinking you up, his fingers gripping tighter to the meat of your thighs to hold you in place as you could feel the tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine, your back arching in desperate anticipation.

Almost as if he could read your mind, Javi easily slipped two fingers inside you, curving in just the right way to bump against your g-spot, fucking in and out of you to fill the emptiness in your pussy he knew you craved.

“J-Javi, oh fuck- don’t stop baby, please, don’t stop.” You whimpered, your eyes nearly rolling in the back of your head as you felt your orgasm begin to build, cunt clenching tighter around Javi’s fingers and beginning to flutter while he sucked on your clit. You could feel his smug smirk pressed against your heat as your hand shot down between your legs, grabbing and tugging on fistfulls of his thick locks, your tell tale sign that it was only a few more moments before you were about to come undone.

“That’s it, hermosa. Say my name, baby girl. Let me hear you.”

And there you were, chanting his name like a prayer, over and over again until you reached your breaking point.

“Javi, Javi, Javi, J-Javi, J-aaaahhhhhh, oh fuck-”

In an instant, you could feel a wave of pleasure crashing through you in toe curling delight, your orgasming ripping through every inch of your body with undeniable intensity, your slick soaking Javi as he drank up every last drop of you, savoring the sweet taste of you on his tongue.

You sat there for a moment, back against the mattress as your chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, blissed out of your mind as you sat propped up on your elbows, staring at Javi, proudly wiping the slick covering his face with the back of his hand.

“Javi, holy fuck, baby.” You gasped, swallowing hard as you watched Javi begin to hover over you, making his way up your body one slow, wet kiss at a time, nipping at the soft skin of your stomach before cupping your breasts, taking one in his mouth, sucking and flicking at your pebbled nipples with his tongue while he rolled the other between his fingers. The whimpers escaping from your lips were damn near pathetic, but considering how worked up you were, you could have probably cum again just from this alone.

“You still want me to fuck a baby into you, Hermosa?” Javi asked all too knowingly, tongue darting between the smirk of his parted lips, trailing languid kisses along your collarbone and up your neck.

“Y-yes. Fuck, yes.” You moaned, breath hitching at the back of your throat as Javi sucked at your pulse point.

“Tell me how badly you want it, pretty girl.” Javi whispered, his voice rumbling low in his throat as he nipped at your ear. “Tell me how much you want me to give you a baby.”

“F-fuck, so badly Javi. Please, baby. I want you to so bad. I want you to more than anything. I wanna make you a daddy, Javi.”

If Javi had any ounce of self composure left, that alone was enough to make him crumble, letting out an audible groan, his dick even harder than he already thought it could be.

“Fuck me…” Javi groaned, sucking you in for another electric kiss. “Turn around, baby.”

Scooching yourself further up the mattress, you laid with your stomach to the bed as Javi climbed behind you, swiping his cock through your folds before sinking into your heat, bottoming out against your cervix and whimpering at the sweet sting of his stretch, sucking him in with your warm, velvety walls.

Slowly, Javi began to thrust in and out of you, taking his time with each stroke as he laid his chest against your back, interlocking his fingers with yours outstretched above your head on the bedspread, head buried in the crook of your neck.

Each push and pull of his hips elicited more lewd sounds than the last- you were practically dripping at this point from how worked up you were, and could hear the wetness pooling in your pussy, filling the room with obscenely filthy sounds.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. You hear that, Momma? You hear how wet you are for me? Hear how badly your tight little pussy wants me to fill her up? Pump her full of me?” Javi moaned, his thrusts becoming faster and deeper, his grip around your hands even tighter than before, biting down on your shoulder trying his best to keep from falling apart at just how good you felt around him, coating every inch of his length in your arousal.

“I want you to cum so deep inside me, Javi. P-please, baby.” You begged, craning your neck behind you just enough to see the wrecked expression painted across Javi’s face that mirrored yours.

Suddenly, you could feel Javi grabbing your hips, flipping you over as your back bounced against the mattress, now staring up at him. He ran his hands up the back of your thighs until your knees were against your stomach, spread open as wide as you could be for him.

As he sunk back in your heat, he caged himself over you, devouring you in a desperate and hungry kiss of mangled tongue and teeth, catching your moans in his mouth as he bottomed out inside you.

“Need to see that beautiful face when you cum for me, cariño. Wanna see you when you soak my cock, w-watch, oh fuck- you when I fuck you so full of me, I’ll knock you up tonight.” Javi moaned between kisses.

The new angle had Javi pounding into you in the way that had your jaw going slack and your cunt beginning to clench tighter and tighter around his length, once again feeling the knot in your stomach beginning to tighten with arousal.

“P-please, Javi. F-fuck- You feel so good, don’t stop, baby.” You whimpered, your eyes locking with his, your heart racing as you stared into the deep chocolate brown of his gaze.

“I won’t stop, hermosa. Won’t stop until I fill this perfect pussy up. Fuck you so full of me, I’ll be dripping out of you for days. Won’t stop until I fuck a baby into you, get you pregnant, watch you give us a family- Jesus, fuck- Fuck, I love you so much.”

Snaking his hand between your bodies, he reached between your legs to rub at your clit, rhythmically circling your sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting a pathetic whimper from you, knowing at this rate, you weren’t going to last much longer, and that meant neither was he.

“I love you too, Javi. More than anything.”

Each thrust of his hips sending you closer to the brink of collapse than the last, the noises of your wanton moans, skin slapping against each other and the wetness of Javi’s cock sloppily pumping in and out of your cunt had the room sounding borderline pornographic. You could feel your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head as the coil in your belly was about to reach a breaking point until the firm grasp of Javi’s palm around your jaw forced your gaze up at him once again.

“Eyes on me, baby. Eyes on me when you cum. Need to see you when I fuck a baby into you, Momma.”

That was all you needed to finally send you over the edge, your body exploding with pleasure as your orgasm overtook you, your thighs shaking and voice trembling with wrecked pleas of Javi’s over and over.

“J-Javi, Javi, Javiiiii, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, oh God, fuck, baby, fuck!”

As you gushed around his cock, your pussy gripped him like a vice as you came. Javi’s hips began to stutter, his pace now becoming frantic and sloppy knowing how close he was to following suit, losing all inhibitions as you sobbed out in ecstasy.

“That’s it, baby. Mierda- Fuck, I’m close. Gonna fill this pussy up- oh shit- so full it’ll f-fucking take. I know it will. I p-promise, I- oh fuck!”

With one final stammer of his hips, Javi’s orgasm consumed him, his spend coating every inch of your walls as he spilled into you, milking himself of every last drop as he came. His body slumped into yours, chests rising and falling in sync as both of you laid in post-orgasmic bliss, completely lost in the sensation of each other.

After a moment, Javi finally pulled out his softening cock, making you whine at the loss. Sitting back on his haunches, he couldn't help but admire the absolute mess between your legs- your pussy so puffy and swollen, covered in your shiny slick, and dripping with his cum. A satisfied smirk spread across his face as he watched his spend begin to leak out of you, knowing that you were overflowing with him.

His fingers traced down your thighs, dragging his cum back to your cunt, making sure a single drop didn't go to waste. You couldn't help but sob as his curved fingers push back inside your pussy, making sure you stay stuffed full of him so he knew it took, because God, did want it more than anything to take.

Gently pulling back out, Javi couldn’t help but lean down to kiss you again, grabbing your face as he peppers you with kisses, making you squeal in a ticklish delight.

“I love you so much, mi amor.” Javi cooed, his forehead resting against yours as he softly stroked your face, your heart swelling with joy and excitement at the man you hoped from 9 months from now, would be the father to your child.

“I love you too, Jav. You’re gonna be such a good Daddy.” You smirked, teasing him just enough to make him let out a sigh, biting down on his lip.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me with that one. You know that?”

“Well it’s true!” You laughed, giving him a playful nudge, running your hand through the sweaty curls at the nape of his neck. “You think this one will be the one?”

“I hope so. If not, guess we’re just gonna have to keep trying every day till it is, huh?”

“If you keep fucking me like that, we’re gonna have 12 kids before you know it.”

“I mean… wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” Javi grinned, rasing his eyebrows at you with a boyish glow.

“Javi! We are not having 12 kids!” You protested, rolling your eyes at your husband.

“Osita, if you keep coming on to me like you did today, we may not have a fucking choice.”

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calypso-rt · 4 months ago

Text

5 LIL' THINGS

Rafe does as your bf...

-> Rafe x F!Reader

intro

There were a lot of things people said about Rafe Cameron.

Most of them weren’t nice.

Words like reckless, selfish, and volatile were tossed around with such regularity you’d think they were stitched into his DNA.

And maybe some of that was true. He could be a pain in the ass, even on a good day. But then there were the other things.

The things no one talked about.

Like how he’d tilt his head just slightly when he was pretending not to care but actually cared more than he’d ever admit. Or how he’d mutter something sarcastic to cover up the fact that his eyes softened whenever he looked at you. The kind of things that didn’t make headlines but stayed tucked away in stolen moments and quiet gestures.

Because Rafe Cameron wasn’t a perfect boyfriend. But if you paid attention, he was so much better than perfect.

He was Rafe.

And sometimes, that meant big, messy declarations of love. But most of the time? It was the little things. The ones that slipped through the cracks but left their mark anyway. The kind of things you couldn’t forget, even if you tried.

1 | Midnight Runs for Ice Cream

It started as an offhand comment. You were sprawled on the couch, half-asleep, mumbling something about how a bowl of chocolate ice cream would fix everything wrong with the world. You didn’t expect Rafe to hear it, let alone act on it.

But twenty minutes later, he was pulling up in his truck, headlights slicing through the darkness outside your window.

“Get in,” he called, leaning out of the driver’s side with his trademark smirk. His hair was messy like he’d just rolled out of bed, and his hoodie hung loosely on his frame, but there was something about the way he looked at you: like he’d move mountains just because you said you were craving dessert.

You didn’t need convincing.

In the car, it took all of five minutes for an argument to break out over toppings.

“Hot fudge is the only acceptable option,” you insisted, crossing your arms dramatically.

Rafe scoffed, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “Please. Caramel’s where it’s at. You just don’t have taste.”

“Oh, I have taste,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes. “You’re the one with the palate of a toddler.”

He glanced over, his smirk widening. “Toddler, huh? That’s bold coming from someone who’s about to order sprinkles.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off. “And don’t even bother denying it. I already know exactly what you’re getting.”

The audacity.

“You don’t know me, Cameron.”

“Sure I do.” His voice was low, teasing. “Chocolate ice cream, hot fudge, and a mountain of sprinkles.”

And, annoyingly, he was right.

By the time you got back to your place, the ice cream was already melting, but neither of you cared. You leaned against the counter, savoring each bite like it was heaven in a cup. Meanwhile, Rafe stayed perched a few feet away, one hip propped against the edge, arms crossed casually.

He wasn’t eating anything. He never did. But his eyes lingered on you, soft and warm in a way that felt unguarded, like the weight of the world didn’t matter for a little while.

“Why are you staring?” you asked, raising a brow.

“I’m not,” he muttered, looking away, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was fighting a grin.

But he was.

And even though he’d deny it later, you knew that Rafe loved these moments.

Just you, the quiet, and the faint hum of the world outside.

2 | Personal Handyman

It was a lazy afternoon when you casually mentioned the faucet in the kitchen was leaking again. You didn’t think much of it. It was a small problem, something you’d fix when you got around to it. It wasn’t worth stressing over.

But apparently, Rafe thought otherwise.

You were in the living room when you heard the sound of his truck pulling up outside. A moment later, there was a knock at the door, followed by the familiar voice of Rafe Cameron calling your name, low and a little rough.

When you opened the door, he was standing there, toolbox in hand, looking like he’d just walked off a worksite.

“Uh�� what are you doing here?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Fixing your sink,” he said matter-of-factly, brushing past you and making his way to the kitchen without waiting for permission.

“Rafe, I didn’t-”

He cut you off with a wave of his hand. “You mentioned it. I’ll take care of it.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the way he just acted, like it was no big deal. But you knew better.

Rafe wasn’t exactly Handy Manny. But for some reason, when it came to you, he’d drop whatever he was doing and show up, ready to tackle whatever needed fixing.

You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching as he knelt down by the sink, inspecting the faucet like he actually knew what he was doing. It was kind of endearing, watching him concentrate.

He grumbled to himself, clearly getting frustrated as he fumbled with the wrench. “This thing’s not going in right…”

You couldn’t resist. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”

He shot you a glare over his shoulder. “I’m fine.”

It took him a bit longer than expected, a few more muttered curses under his breath, but eventually, the leak stopped. He leaned back, wiping his hands on a rag, a proud look on his face.

“Done,” he said, standing up and brushing the dust off his jeans.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You know, I didn’t think you were the handyman type.”

“I’m not,” he admitted, smirking, wiping his hands one last time. “But I’ll do it for you.”

It wasn’t the words that made your heart skip a beat, it was the sincerity behind them. Because Rafe wasn’t the kind of guy who did things for anyone else. But for you?

Anything.

3 | The Protector

The bonfire crackled, flames dancing in the cool evening air, throwing long shadows across the beach as the sound of waves crashed softly in the background.

Everyone was spread out in small groups, drinks in hand, laughing, talking, and basking in the glow of the fire. It was one of those nights where everyone felt a little too wild, a little too free, but you felt calm. Like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

Except... Rafe had been watching you.

Not in the creepy, overbearing way, but in the subtle, Rafe kind of way. He was always nearby, his eyes scanning the crowd, just making sure no one got too close. He made sure you had a drink in your hand, not too much, just enough so you didn’t have to worry about someone else trying to buy you one.

He had a sixth sense for noticing when someone came too close to your space, his jaw tightening just slightly as he made his way over to draw you into a conversation, his hand resting at the small of your back like a silent warning to anyone who might have been eyeing you.

“Got everything you need?” he’d ask, his voice low and steady, as he plopped down next to you.

You grinned, giving him an exaggerated wink. “Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for being my personal bodyguard tonight.”

His lips quirked up at the corner, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. "I’m always looking out for you." The words felt like more than just an empty promise. They were a truth, simple but intense in the way only Rafe could be.

As the night stretched on, the bonfire began to fade. The crackling wood sounded more like a whisper now, the heat slipping away into the cool night air. You were just about to get up to grab more firewood when you felt a familiar weight settle over your shoulders.

Rafe’s hoodie. You didn’t even have to ask.

You didn’t even notice he’d stood up, not until he returned, draping the fabric over you in one smooth motion. “Don’t want you getting cold,” he muttered, his hands lingering on your shoulders for a second too long, like he was debating whether he should say more. But then he was back to his spot, his eyes scanning the beach again, always on alert, always looking out for you.

"Thanks," you murmured, pulling the hoodie tighter around your frame, the faint scent of his cologne making you smile.

"Anytime," he replied, his voice low, but it was the kind of ‘anytime’ that meant forever.

And that’s exactly how it felt. Forever.

4 | Has Your Back

It was supposed to be a simple night out.

A few drinks, some laughs, the usual. Dinner at a local spot with Rafe and his friends, the kind of casual evening that would slip by unnoticed in the grand scheme of things. But then, Ruthie opened her mouth.

"Honestly," she started, swirling her drink around nonchalantly, "I don't get it. How'd someone like Rafe end up with you?"

The words stung, and you could feel your cheeks flush. Ruthie had that uncanny ability to hit below the belt without even trying. You shot her a sharp look, about to respond, but before you could, Rafe’s demeanor shifted.

One moment he was laughing, holding court with the guys, the next he was leaning in with an icy calmness that made the air around him tighten. His hand shot out, resting protectively on the back of your chair, his body angling just enough to block Ruthie’s view of you.

"Watch it, Ruth," he said, his voice low, but there was an edge to it. "You might wanna take that back before you piss me off."

You could feel his gaze, intense and unwavering, but there was something else behind it. A playful edge that suggested he wasn’t taking Ruthie’s words too seriously, just looking out for you. You swallowed the heat that had risen in your chest, deciding to hold your ground and respond on your own terms.

"I'm not some charity case, Ruth," you shot back, keeping your tone even but firm. "If you’ve got a problem, maybe we can talk about it later."

Rafe’s lips twitched into a barely there smile as he let you handle it. He wasn’t going to fight your battles for you, but the way he hovered, close enough to let everyone know he was ready if things escalated, was enough to settle the tension.

"And just so you know," Rafe added, looking directly at Ruthie with a mockingly sweet tone, "you can keep your thoughts to yourself. I like her just the way she is."

There was a beat of silence, and Ruthie’s eyes narrowed, but she backed off, giving you a pointed look before taking another sip of her drink.

The night resumed, but you could feel Rafe's hand on your back as he leaned into you, giving your shoulder a quick squeeze.

Later, as you and Rafe walked out of the restaurant, he nudged you with a softer grin. "You handled Ruthie pretty well," he said, his voice a little quieter than usual. "Impressive."

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sincerity. "You think so?"

Rafe nodded, his gaze softening. "Yeah. She can be a lot, but you didn't back down. I respect that."

You smiled, feeling a warmth you weren’t expecting. "Thanks, Rafe."

He pulled you a little closer, his arm around your shoulders. "Anytime. I’ve got your back." And in that moment, it was clear.

His admiration for you was genuine, and he'd always be there, quietly protective in his own way.

5 | More Than Words

After a long, draining day, you stumbled through the front door, exhaustion weighing heavily on you. The world felt too loud, too overwhelming, and you just wanted to escape for a while.

To your surprise, Rafe was already on the couch, his laptop resting in his lap as he looked up at you, eyes softening the second he saw how tired you were.

Without a word, he set the laptop aside, his usual cocky demeanor gone. He just knew.

He didn’t ask what was wrong.

He didn’t need to.

Moving toward you, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you onto the couch, guiding you gently between his legs, holding you like you were the most fragile thing in the world.

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. His hand softly brushed through your hair, the quiet comfort of his touch calming the chaos of your mind. He didn’t need to say anything; his presence was enough.

"Hey," his voice was quiet, soft against your ear. "I know today was tough."

You nodded, leaning your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. He didn’t try to fix anything. He just held you, grounding you with his steady presence. His fingers found yours, the simple act of holding your hand more meaningful than any words could be.

In the silence, you realized something: with all the messiness inside him, all the brokenness he carried, Rafe knew how to find peace in moments like this.

And in this small, quiet space, you found it too.

Wrapped in his arms, the weight of the world seemed a little less heavy.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n

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01zfan · 4 months ago

Text

sweetheart

nerd!anton x nerd!reader | 5.1k words

a request i got and it kinda made me go a little insane.

contains: anton pretends to be an insecure little nerd to plot on the reader, fingering, reader is implied to be a virgin

Anton is a sweetheart. He’s non assuming and soft spoken, so quiet that he has to clear his throat each time he speaks. He’s kind, always extending the same tenderness and patience to people he received as a child. He’s one of the few men in his program that the girls didn’t have trouble approaching if they had a question or trouble with an assignment.

Each time anyone approached him with a question he was helpful, pushing his thick frames up his face before leaning to the paper. With a pencil he’d mark where the mistake was, and explaining it with a gentle voice that had girls leaning in even closer.

After they got a smell of his cologne and the look of his soft skin everything else was easy. The girls would tilt their heads in curiosity about Anton, intrigued at how someone so shy made it this far in life. How someone was so cute from afar but something more once you got close. All he had to do was avoid their eyes and chew his lip a few times before they were sliding their phones over to him.

Just in case I need help with another assignment.

Anton’s eyes would always widen in shock. Not from the surprise of being pursued but just how easy it all was. The girls never found out that Anton was red in the face from the rush and he ducked his head to hide a smile of satisfaction. They would laugh lightly seeing his reaction, observing what they thought was insecurity. Before going on about their day they’d touch his shoulder or pull on him playfully.

Anton is a sweetheart.

But he also has a problem.

He knows he does. His friends compared it to a sweet tooth that bordered addiction, or someone who would walk into a casino with a twenty dollar bill expecting to hit big. They sometimes even called Anton a psychopath when he’d get all giddy telling them about his day.

Anton knew he had a problem, but it was hard to stop when he got the sweet fix or hit the jackpot each time. Nothing could top the feeling of euphoria Anton would get when he’d come to one of those girls after they asked him to come to their place. He’d look at the messages in the comfort of his room and smile, knowing what it meant when they’d preface the study session by saying they were alone. He’s addicted to the game he’d play every time, faking the shy and insecure nerd that pretty girls were going to eat for dinner. Like they were throwing him a bone by inviting him to their apartment or dorm under the guise of doing homework.

They’d answer the door in something easy to take off or something that would cling to them like a second skin. If they were particularly desperate it’d be both, yoga pants that showed everything and a cropped shirt that rode up with every movement. Anton loved shamelessly gawking at the girls behind his glasses, shuffling from foot to foot in front of them before they invited him in. He waited for each direction, eyes darting around their room before he was invited to sit down or told to take out his notebook. He would purposefully be a step behind, showing how lost he was to be in a room that didn’t belong to him or his other intraverted friends.

He loved letting the girls make the first move. On their bed settling in as they really got a look at him in the setting of their room. Something about how clueless he was made the girls all the more strung up. He looked everywhere but at them, shrinking himself on their bed. His timidness made the girls love making the first subtle touch on his flexed arm, or purposefully grabbing his pencil so they could compare hand sizes. Anton loved acting like he was nervous wreck from the longing stares to the side of his face, like he hadn’t done this dance a million times before. He loved messing up his words while trying to act oblivious to the hungry look in their eyes. He loved the pretty smile the girls would get like he was the one falling into their trap.

His absolute favorite part was when they’d turn his head with their soft hands. Anton would falter from the eye contact, letting his lips part in confusion as they focused on him. The notebooks and assignments between them long forgotten as they shuffled closer to him on the bed.

“Have you ever been with a girl before?”

They’d always ask that. Voices light and airy, already having an answer in their mind.

“I have.”

He’d always answer with a stutter. The falter in his voice never made them push any further. They assumed by Anton’s darting eyes that the number was so minuscule asking about it would only embarrass him.

(He stopped being embarrassed of his conquests a long time ago. He also stopped being able to keep track.)

Anton is a sweetheart, with a problem of seeing pretty girls eyes flash when they realize that he is more than capable.

The moment was always the same. The mood in the room would change when Anton would sheepishly take off his oversized hoodie. Each time silence would settle over the room when they saw what he was hiding underneath. His undershirt hugged close to his body, showing the chisel and the hard work he put in at the gym. When he was feeling tired while working out he’d replay the sight of the girls taking in his toned body. They’d reach out to touch his chest as if they were expecting it all to be fake, other times they would just let out a breathless wow.

He always basked in seeing the girls try to maintain their composure. They would become the ones averting their eyes and stumbling over their words. They would be shellshocked on their side of the bed, wondering what else he was hiding. But Anton was still sweet, he always was. He would always wait patiently to see if this was really what the girls wanted. He would pick at the seam of his pants and look down to the forgotten homework to let them know they could go back to what they were doing and pretend this never happened. But the obvious bulge in his pants always made pretty girls reach for the waistband of their pants without a second thought.

Anton was never sure if they gawked at him in an attempt to get his confidence up or if they were truly surprised. As if his build and height were no indicator, each time Anton took off his pants to reveal his dick they were always so shocked. That’s when the resolve would truly fall, when their jaws would drop and they’d blink their eyes from the sheer surprise. Precum would leak from his tip just from the sight of them coming to terms with what was twitching and red and angry in front of them.

“You’re big.”

The infliction in their voice was always different. Some girls would be excited, others would be confused, a few times they almost seemed disgusted. Like there was no way the shy kid in the back of the class was hiding this.

“Am I really?”

Anton wasn’t an idiot. Even if he said it looking down at the bed, he knew that he was endowed and it was pretty. But sometimes he just needed to hear it an extra time, or look up to see a quick head nod when they couldn’t fathom saying it again. He was an insecure nerd after all. The quiet recluse in the back of class that barely had friends. An absolute sweetheart that threw girls around and manipulated their bodies into positions they didn’t even know about.

He loved being a good fuck. For a long time he believed he was put on the Earth to fuck pretty girls and to stop them from judging books by their covers. Anton was killing two birds with one stone by cooing at girls condescendingly while he gave them everything. It was his civic duty to exert his strength and to kiss girls until they were breathless and his glasses fogged. Each time he heard I didn’t know you had that in you an angel gained it’s wings. Whenever they’d tell their girlfriends what the shy nerd did to them in their dorm Anton was making the world a better place. Sometimes he would get called back, sometimes he would run through entire friend groups just to prove he was really committed to the cause.

No matter how many people Anton fucked, no one seemed to believe it. Like it was collective psychosis that the nerd was a good lay, or a big open secret everyone was hush about. Anton was still treated like he was meek, his soft nature made everyone believe he was an open book, so much to the point that they made wrong judgements about his character. He actually hated staying inside and enjoyed exploring the city and trying new things with his friends. He was a sensitive person but he could also advocate for himself and admit when he was wrong. He was quiet, but only because he valued personal, quiet conversations more than anything.

He eventually learned that people’s preconceived notions of him couldn’t be helped. Anton could fuck the entirety of the campus and people would still treat him like he was made of glass. He decided to be an optimist, finding the silver lining in people assuming he was the sweetheart with a cute smile. Their perception of him could’ve been worse, being shy was infinitely better than being loud and obnoxious. So when people would assume things about Anton’s personality he would only react positively. He would let his eyes go wide, acting shocked when someone would tell him about their first impression of him.

“I thought you were an asshole at first.”

You told Anton nonchalantly, as if his whole world didn’t crumble. You didn’t even spare him a second glance as you wrote on your lab report. You were too busy adjusting the calculations and reading over the proper way to dispose the chemicals a million times to make sure it was right while Anton sputtered to himself. He was caught off guard by your honesty and surprisingly quick answer as if it was on the forefront of your mind. You only tilted your head up for a second before you had the answer.

Anton didn’t know what to do about you. Just when he thought he had seen every girl in his major you came along, sitting in the back of class with him. You seemed to be the recluse of a person everyone mistook Anton for. You were in and out of class, not bothering to raise your hand during discussions or to socialize with your peers. You also didn’t seem to latch onto him like other girls of his major did. When they looked for Anton’s face in the lecture hall you walked right past him, not bothering to look up from your notebook or laptop. For the first time in his life Anton felt compelled to make the first move. He thought that you two had built up a good rapport, and that you saw him as your kindhearted and resigned classmate.

But you saw him as anything but that. You said it confidently too, and loud enough for your classmates at the next lab table to look over.

“What do you mean?” Anton said quietly.

You frowned looking up from the pamphlet. You were visibly annoyed, you even motioned to the undisposed chemicals to show him that you two still had class.

“Can we talk about this when our grade isn’t at stake, please?” You asked.

You weren’t commanding for his benefit. You weren’t taking into account that he might be afraid to hear a negative opinion about himself. You weren’t looking at him like girls had before, like you were trying to pick him apart for your own entertainment. You were willing to put validation for Anton on the back burner because you had other things to do. When Anton would have girls gush over him you were benevolent, indifferent to his fake insecurities.

The more you paid attention to your work rather than him, Anton found himself scrambling. He was working hard for your affection. When the teacher announced that class was over and lab reports were due the next morning he leapt at the chance to invite himself over. He was supposed to be shy and insecure, getting nervous over the mere thought of being alone with the opposite sex. His facade went over your head. Instead, Anton watched you do the cost-benefit analysis of inviting him over before you shrugged your shoulders.

“Alright. Just follow me.” You said before setting a ridiculously fast paced speed walk to the other side of campus.

But Anton followed you. He bobbed and weaved through crowds and essentially chased you across the common area while you continued on your pace. Other girls would walk with Anton, trying to pry information out from his clammy hands. You barely spared a second glance over your shoulder like you were trying to lose him. Anton followed you all the way to your dorm, then up the stairs, then waited for you beside your door as you put your backpack on your desk and pulled up a chair next to yours. You didn’t extend an invitation towards Anton to take a seat.

He waits for you to step in. He’s laid the trap by taking off his hoodie even though you kept your room cold, and shuffled his seat closer to yours. He put his elbows on the table next to yours coming closer to the lines you stopped writing on your paper.

He laid the trap. He can see you hesitate, looking from him to the assignment and then back to him. Anton keeps his eyes on the paper, rubbing his fingers over his lips to stop himself from smiling.

“Do you work out?” You asked.

Your voice didn’t have the sultry infliction that girls usually had when they asked him that question. You didn’t reach across and squeeze his toned bicep or shamelessly drag your eyes over his broad shoulders. You asked the question simply, no other intention except for wanting an answer.

“I do. Sometimes.” Anton said.

You only hummed and went back to your paper. Anton scooted closer to you, hoping his Le Labo Lavande 31 and the hand across the back of your chair was invading your space enough for you to really get a good look at him. Anton watched your eyes dart again. You were nervous, eyes wide and Anton felt the rush.

“You smell nice.” You said.

The line was pulled from the trap. You’re caged in and Anton looks to you. He knows about the death grip you have on your pencil, it makes him brave enough to invade your space even more.

“You forgot to write your observations here.” Anton says, trying to make lab reports as sexy as possible.

This assignment would’ve been abandoned a long time ago. If this was anyone else it would’ve never made it out of their backpack. You were adamant about your work, looking at the tips of his pretty fingers where you left a spot blank. He should have his report out too. He should be writing something just like you try to, instead Anton leans closer and he swears the pencil in your hand is going to break from the pressure.

Is this how he should’ve been acting with those girls all that time? This is real nerves rolling off your body. The anxiety almost makes Anton nervous by extension, he shivers when he finally lets his hand on the back of your chair touch your body. You stiffen and he’s amazed. You went from being indifferent to being too aware. He feels you back away slightly, but when his hand tightens on your shoulder you lean in. You’re hot and cold, not knowing what you want. He can feel you tremble, and your eyes dart from his eyes to his lips.

“I’ve never done anything before.”

Anton comes closer. His hand that pointed at a random thing on your paper turns into a fist as he distracts you completely. He brings himself forward until he’s in your line of sight, even when you try so hard to look at anything but him. He smirks when your eyes dart past him, and he fully lets his arm rest across your back. You’re malleable, before you refused to even bend to him but now you move from his slightest touch.

“What do you mean?” He asks. “You’ve never done what before?”

He should go for the nerds more often. The way you already seem sweaty and antsy just from thinking about what is happening makes Anton want to play with you some more. He knows it’s perverse, like a dog playing a smaller animal to death. He wants to see if you’ll twitch, if you’re playing dead just to try and make a run for it.

“I’ve never—I know that—” Anton raises his eyebrows and nods to each one of your broken statements. “It just seems like—”

“Like what?” He smiles and nudges you. His smile is toothy, yours is tightlipped to a straight line. “C’mon. Talk to me.” He continues.

“You smell really good.” You repeat.

You’re the twitching body of a mouse in his jaws. He just smile and nods at your statement, how you go back to saying old things in an attempt to catch your footing. He forces you to sit in the uncomfortable silence. He waits for you to say something knowing you can’t, he waits for you to touch him even if you’re caught like a deer in the headlights.

“I look good too, right?” He starts drawing shapes on your shoulder.

He’s having too much fun. He’s entertained seeing your intelligence fail you. You’re stumped, you drop your pencil to fully clench your fist.

The pencil is rolling back and forth on your lab report, the small sound is the only thing that speaks. You’re still desperately trying to figure out how you got into this situation, how one thing led to another so quickly that his hand is reaching underneath the sleeve of your shirt.

“You look good, Anton.” You agree.

“Thanks.” Anton smiles and you do too, averting your eyes and nodding to yourself to feign indifference. Anton looks down to your shirt, still playing with your skin underneath your sleeve. “You do too.” He says.

Another bout of silence. You let yourself be touched, hands still clenched on top of the table. Anton rests his hand on top of your fist, smoothing over the protruding veins trying to coax them open. This is more fulfilling than playing with popular girls. The game still hasn’t ended for him. He’s on the fifth consecutive jackpot when you finally open your mouth again.

“I don’t.” Your hand opens and Anton clasps over it, smiling to himself when it disappears. “I don’t know what you want me to do.” You stutter.

You’re too cute for your own good. Finally you look at him with big eyes and your eyebrows raised. You give into his touches a little more, finally warming up to all the attention. Still your pupils shake, and Anton brings his hand from your shoulder to your face to keep you from turning away.

“Can I make you feel good?” He asks.

You could barely nod before Anton was guiding you up from your chair and backing you towards your bed. He watched you stumble when the back of your legs hit the edge. You looked up at him, your pretty eyes already looking wet. Maybe he really did have a problem. Because he loved seeing them widen in surprise when he put his hands underneath your arms, lifting you up just enough to set you on the edge of your bed. He loved seeing your jostled expression and the tiny yelp when you landed so perfectly on your sheets.

Anton watched you stay in place, catching your breath from the sudden movement. He watched your chest still as his hands went to the bottom of his tank top. He’s grateful to have such a captive audience. There’s no way he can pretend to be shy after this. You’re astonished as he slowly lifts his shirt, and he watched you shamelessly stare at him before you realized he could see you.

Anton let you eat him alive before he came up to you, until you had to tilt your head upwards to see him. You didn’t dare lift your hands from the bed, like he was going to disappear the moment you touched him. Like he was straight from a dream you only looked up to him, waiting for what he was going to do next. Anton wonders if you thought you’d end up in this position, with him looming over you and his hand creeping to a spot under your chin. He absolutely can’t stop doing this. The view is too pretty, your stillness is addicting. Like you’re too afraid to even breathe too loud in case it’d break the tension. He bends closer to your lips, eyes still open after you screw yours shut. You preemptively grip your mattress for dear life and he can’t help but smile.

He smiles into the kisses, each peck bringing you closer and closer to your mattress. When your back is against the sheets Anton climbs on, refusing the break contact. You look so pretty underneath him, eyes squeezing shut again when another wave of realization hits you. You’ve never been in this position before, with someone like Anton looming over you while still being so sweet. He runs his hand over the apple of your cheek, and fixes your shirt that left your stomach exposed.

“Is this okay?” Anton asks.

He knows it is, because your legs seemed to spread a little bit more and more with each passing second. By the time his hand drifts down to your neck you’re completely open, your soft pants bunching at the place Anton wants to touch you next. The valley of your chest gives him a straight path down, and your bent legs open further.

“Want me to touch you?” He asks.

He knows he’s cruel. You’re metaphorically dead and his face is covered in blood, but still he continues. He’s jumping around your body, reaching out a playful hand like you have the life to play back.

“Please touch me.” You whine pitifully.

Anton presses a chaste kiss to your forehead as his hands work past the elastic band of your pants and underwear. You flinch from his hands, then you preen your hips towards his fingers, then you pull back. He’s mocking when he coos at you, the time pressing a kiss to the side of your head. He almost feels bad. You’re clearly fighting against something, your eyes are shut tight as you press your head into the mattress. Anton tries kissing your eyes open, but it only makes you squeeze them tighter.

With you writhing underneath him, he took the time to look around your room. Your little pegboard above your desk where you had calendar marked with all the important due dates of upcoming assignments. Your neatly placed books and papers, your stuffed animals around your pillows. You didn’t make your bed this morning, instead laying on crumbled sheets and gripping whatever you could get your hands on. Your hand went to Anton’s forearm and clutched it, whimpering something that he couldn’t decipher.

“Does it feel good?” He asks.

You nod, and when Anton tries to pull away he feels your nails dig into his forearm. You seem unaware of what you’re doing, how you’re silently begging him to keep going. You’re just moving underneath him, already beginning to twitch helplessly. Anton purposefully pushes his fingers deeper into your clit until he knows he’s bringing you the smallest amount of pain. He’s pulling the strings, watching your body react to him because you can’t control it. By this point the girls would already be asking him to take his pants off, but you can’t even form a coherent thought. He’s having fun in his jeans, watching you twitch and twist and grip his arm with all your might.

“Anton.”

You flick your hips up and he presses his hand to your hip, pinning you to the bed. You still try to swivel, useless against his strength. He’s intrigued that you aren’t trying to be defiant but you simply can’t help it. All the other girls were pliant immediately, so desperate to please the quiet boy in class they underestimated. You’re defiant because you can’t handle it.

“What’s up?” He asks.

His completely even voice makes you whine. The flush across your cheeks tells him you’re embarrassed, red hot and real unlike his facade.

You don’t answer him. You just dig your nails into his arm and attempt to get his prodding fingers to slide in. He raises his eyebrows at your not-so-subtle attempts to get him to inside of you.

“You want me to finger you?” He asks.

You nod like a good girl and Anton almost feels bad for asking you the question in a mocking tone. He makes up for it by giving you what you want immediately, sucking in a deep breath to match your deep breath. He smiles when he sees you arch off the bed. This is so much more entertaining than anything else. Just two fingers has you making unfiltered noises and gripping the sheets. Anton has to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing, and he has half a mind to ask you if you’re okay in a serious tone. But he just continues driving his fingers into your hole.

He picks up the speed, just to hear the lewd sound you two make. It’s wet, Anton can already feel the mess on the palm of his hand. He pulls your waistband down to your knees, bringing your thighs closer together. He has to fight against your soft thighs clenching around his hand. He’s still able to drive his fingers in and out of your heat. He likes the resistance even though you clearly want more. Anton is surprised when you lift your shirt on your own accord. It’s obvious you’re doing it to relieve some of the heat you feel, but he’s still flattered nonetheless. His hand presses against your stomach, applying force to the lowest part.

“I can’t.” You whimper.

That’s when Anton finally laughs. He chuckles at how panicked you sound and how you turn your head in embarrassment.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks while picking up the speed of his hand.

You nod your head but when Anton tries to pull his hand away you clench your thighs to keep him in place. He chuckles again, situating one legs on the side of your body and the other between your closed legs. He casts a shadow on you below him, and he can see your eyes open the slightest bit from his movements. He drives your legs apart with his knee, and continues pumping that spot deep in you that leaves you shaking your head.

“I can’t.” You whimper.

“You can.” Anton sees your eyes open, wide and staring directly at him as he drives your legs apart further. “You’re so close.” He says.

Your entire body moves from the speed of his fingers. Even your chests jumps underneath your shirt, and he wants to lift it up to reveal the rest of you. He lets you take it at your own pace since you’re giving him so much already. He just pinches and grabs a handful of your stomach, marveling in how soft you are.

“So cute.” Anton coos. “You had no idea, right?” He asks.

You shake your head and you don’t stop shaking it, like you’re trying to will away your impeding orgasm. Anton watches all of it. He’s never had a pretty girl twitch for him so much, or reach a greedy hand up to grip your chest. Something you do when you’re close, something he wants to do for you. His hand superimposes yours, and grips harder too. You’re arching into his palm and preening your hips on his fingers, and then he watches your body go rigid.

“You’re cumming.” Anton teases.

Your whimpering yes rips through the room, and Anton feels wound up himself. He has to set his sights on something else. Pretty confident girls are fun, but seeing your shame manifest in the way you push and pull at him is much more intoxicating. He likes that he knows what you want but you’re too scared to say it, it’s your body that has to act on its own to fulfill your needs. When you continue going, and your strangled moans turn to broken oh my God’s and your legs start shaking, Anton knows he won’t be able to get enough. He keeps pushing you further because he knows you can take it, and you continue whimpering. He doesn’t stop until you sound panicked, and your hand starts pushing his away.

He still looks down at you with a smile on his face. Your head is turned towards your fluffy comforter, exhaling and inhaling so hard you move the fur with your breath. He’s satisfied seeing what he’s done to you, and he’s even more amused when you turn your head to face him.

Your eyes are wide, your lips are swollen and slick from your mindless drooling. Anton feels something in his chest when your eyes move past his body to the prominent bulge in his pants. He’s a step ahead, shaking his head and moving back to rest on his haunches. That comes later, when he plays with you some more and you start voicing how badly you want to please him. When you reach your hand towards his crotch Anton grabs your hand instead, intertwining your fingers.

“I just wanted to make you feel good.” He says.

He’s a sweetheart, after all.

#requestz #01zfan: anton #anton smut #riize smut

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daryltwdixon · 2 months ago

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Joel Miller x Reader drabble

Fluffy Jackson!Joel, age gap mentioned but not specified, angsty Joel thinking he doesn't deserve you I'm gonna vom I'm so emotional about Joel Miller this morning. Yeah it’s a little corny idc. Lightly inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's Slim Pickins

You never cared much for the boys in Jackson.

It wasn’t that they were all bad—not really. Some were decent enough, kind in that overeager way that made it clear they wanted to be seen as something more than just survivors. The younger ones, the ones your age, all had something to prove. Like they thought the end of the world meant they had to carve out their place in it with their fists, their bravado, their talk of patrols and takedown counts.

You weren’t interested.

You wanted someone steady. Someone who didn’t feel the need to boast, who didn’t make survival a contest, who wasn’t fumbling to figure out who they were even after all these years.

And that’s why your eyes always found Joel Miller.

He never tried to be charming. Never played the fool. Never talked just to hear himself speak. Matter of fact, you hardly heard him speak at all unless Ellie or Tommy were around. In any other conversation you managed to overhear, he was polite but always a man of few words.

He was older, rough around the edges, sharp where others were soft. He was the kind of man who knew how to build things, how to keep them standing. You admired that. Admired the way his hands were always busy, fixing things, sharpening knives, reinforcing weak spots in the town’s defenses. Admired the way he looked after Ellie without making a show of it, the way he always sat with his back to a wall, eyes scanning like he could predict trouble before it came knocking.

The only problem was getting him to see what had been so obvious to you from the start.

Joel had been stubborn.

The first time you flirted with him—really flirted—he’d just blinked at you, like he thought he misheard. The second time, he’d scoffed, muttered something about "findin’ someone your own damn age." The third time… Well, that one had been his mistake.

Because you’d caught him looking.

It was just a flicker, just a second. But it was real. You’d seen it in the way his eyes lingered, the way his jaw tensed like he was biting down a thought he didn’t want to have. That was when you knew.

It was only a matter of time.

And now—now he was here.

Warm and solid beneath you, his arm heavy around your waist, his fingers tracing absentminded circles against your bare skin. The room smelled like both of you, like sweat and shared warmth and something slow-burning, something that had taken its time getting here. You were tangled up in each other, bare bodies draped together in the low morning light, catching your breath as the quiet hum of Jackson began to wake up just beyond the window.

“Tell me somethin’,” he muttered.

“Anything,” you murmured, your lips pressing gently into the warmth of his neck.

He sighed, the sound more exasperated than anything, his head turning on the pillow to look at you. His big eyes were so full of tenderness, but something flickered in them—a hesitation, a question he’d been holding onto longer than he wanted to admit.

“Why me?”

You stared at him for a long moment before a smirk twitched on your lips, and you ran your fingers through his graying curls, watching the way his eyes fluttered at the feeling.

“Haven’t you heard?” you teased, voice laced with playfulness, “It’s the end of the world, Mr. Miller. It’s slim pickin’s around here.”

Joel huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head, rolling his eyes like he wasn’t gonna let you get away with that answer.

But before he could grumble something about being an old man, you slid your hand down, fingers trailing over his chest, slow and sure, until you could feel the steady thump-thump of his heart beneath your palm.

"Good thing," you murmured, voice softer now, "you’re exactly the man I want."

Joel exhaled, long and slow.

And maybe, maybe that should have been enough to satisfy him.

But it wasn’t.

Because you knew he had lived too many years and lost too many things to believe in easy answers. He had spent too much time walking through hell to believe he had come out on the other side deserving of this.

His fingers curled against your hip, like he was testing it. The weight of you against him, the warmth of you in his bed. Maybe still half-convinced that this was something he’d wake up from.

You sighed, nudging your nose against his jaw. “Joel.”

He hummed, but it was barely a sound, like he didn’t quite trust himself to speak.

So you tried again. Softer this time. “Do you really think I would ever want anyone else?”

He didn’t answer.

You traced your fingers along his chest, slow and thoughtful, your mind drifting somewhere neither of you had ever dared to go before.

“I wonder sometimes,” you admitted, “what it would’ve been like. If we’d met before.”

Joel hesitated, his brows furrowing as he looked at you, eyes scanning your face.

You let the thought settle between you, warm and quiet.

“Think about it,” you mused, your voice dipping into something thoughtful, something wistful. “Would we have even met? In a normal world?”

You could see the flicker of something behind his eyes. A life that could have been. A life that was gone before either of you had a chance to claim it.

“I was just a kid in Texas when everything happened,” you murmured. “Would’ve grown up, maybe gone to college, gotten some easy job that didn’t mean anything. You would’ve still been…” you swallowed, “you.”

A father. Maybe a husband at some point. A man with a life already built.

“Maybe I would’ve walked past you somewhere,” you continued. “At a store. A gas station. Maybe you would’ve held a door open for me, and I wouldn’t have thought twice about it.”

Joel’s fingers tightened against you like he was grounding himself in this moment. His voice was steady when he spoke. No hesitation, no doubt.

“I would’ve noticed you.”

You lifted your eyes to meet his, breath caught in your throat as your hand slid higher, up to the side of his face, thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “Would you?”

Joel exhaled softly, leaning into your touch without thinking, his eyes tracing over your face like he was memorizing every piece of you.

“‘Course I would’ve,” he murmured. “Doesn’t matter when or where. Could’ve been another life, another world—" his thumb stroked absently along your waist, voice dipping into something quiet, something certain—"I still would’ve found you.”

The words settled into you, warm and heavy, threading through your ribs, curling tight around your heart.

Then, suddenly, he was smiling—just a little—as his hand came up to your face, cupping your jaw, his thumb sweeping along your cheek.

“Maybe in a normal world, I’d be the one pesterin’ you instead of the other way around.”

You laughed, tilting your chin up as you leaned closer. “I only ‘pestered’ ‘cause you’re too damn stubborn.”

Joel huffed softly, shaking his head like you were trouble, like you’d gotten under his skin in a way he’d never be able to shake.

But he pulled you closer, his fingers curled beneath your chin, tilting your face up just enough. His gaze flickered over you—your eyes, your lips—like he was taking his time, like he wanted to make sure you were committed to his memory.

And then he kissed you, slow and deep, breathing you in. Like a promise. Like an answer to a question neither of you had to ask.

His hand moved to the back of your head, lacing into your hair, the other tracing a slow path down your spine, pulling you against him until there was no space left between you. You sighed into him, melting, your fingers tangling into his hair as he deepened the kiss, as he drank you in like you were something precious, something he never wanted to lose.

When you finally parted, just barely, your forehead resting against his, his breath was warm against your lips.

“See?” you murmured, softer this time, “Slim pickin’s or not, I still would’ve found my way to you, Joel Miller.”

He exhaled, low and content, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips before murmuring against them—

“I know.”

And this time, he did believe you.

#joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #jackson!joel #jackson tlou #jackson joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fluffy #angsty joel miller #tlou #tlou fic #joel miller drabble

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acoazlove · 8 months ago

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A New Place

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Summary: Your birthday felt ruined until you met someone new.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Angst

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They forgot. They forgot that it’s your birthday.

You really couldn’t blame them considering they all have their own lives and issues to deal with, but it didn’t make it any easier.

The main problem you have isn’t really that they had forgotten your birthday, it’s actually that they had celebrated every other holiday and birthday no matter what was going on. They dropped everything for everyone. Except for you.

So to say it hurts is an understatement. The forgotten sister, as per usual. Always left behind and pushed to the side. You suppose it makes sense considering you’re the youngest of your sisters. Always pushed to the side, whether it was intended or not.

For the last three years, things had gone from bad to worse, to just about perfect for your family. But not for you, you felt like a burden. Birthdays are supposed to be special, to celebrate whose day it was. It certainly didn’t feel like it right now.

Wandering through the River House, not a single soul in sight. Everything felt too quiet. No breakfast being made, no presents—not that you expected to get any—and none of your sisters to greet even. They were who you wanted to see right now.

Instead, you make your way to the kitchen and grab an apple instead. As you were about to leave to go for a walk, you hear loud laughing coming from the front door. In walks your sisters, their mates following close behind.

As they make their way to split off from each other, you only get a few smiles and greetings. Nothing else. That’s how you know they have forgotten. So you give them a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Once they’re all out of the doorway, and not giving you a second thought, you take that as your sign to finally go for your walk. The walls now feel incredibly claustrophobic.

What you don’t notice is a certain pair of hazel eyes studying you as you tug on your coat, and pull the door open. The spymaster’s calculated gaze, noticing everything no matter how discrete you think you’re being. His shadows agitatedly circled him as you passed the threshold.

─

Dress brushing the cobblestone streets of Valaris as you stroll down and take in your surroundings, relishing in the fresh air and sunlight warming that previous coldness you felt from the negative start to the day.

Walking past shops, bakeries, and cafes. Passing an oh-so-familiar bookstore before doubling back to head into. You think that maybe browsing for an hour or so could help brighten your already tiring day. Without realising you’re already ambling your way over to the shelves.

Picking up many books, reading their synopsis, and then putting them back in their previous places, you finally find a book that interests you. Feyre’s money isn’t mine. A sour taste fills your mouth at that thought, so you decide against getting it.

Exiting the lovely bookstore with a wave to the cashier you think it might be time to make your way back to the house. Maybe you’ll be able to fix up some food once you’re back. Mindlessly dawdling you through the crowded streets, then deciding to take the long way. There’s no need to be home any earlier than needed.

Moving by stores you’d never seen or heard of before, peering in through the windows, but not daring to go in. A sign catches your eye, ‘Benny’s Bar’ read above the doorway. From the outside, it looks similar to one that you remember in the human lands, just not nearly as beat up. A drink or two couldn’t hurt, hopefully, they’re not too expensive.

You enter, not giving yourself enough time to argue, and the strong scent of alcohol quickly invades your senses. Ignoring it you meander over to the bar.

The interior is much nicer than what you see from the street, with dark wood floors, and the walls a deep shade of green. The same wood as the flooring extends up the wall behind the bar, lined with long shelves, and all kinds of liquor. The tables scattered around the room were well worn, in a charming and homey way, with mismatched chairs pushed under them. Old paintings that seem to have been passed down for generations are pinned up around the room. The lights dim but not dingy, giving the place a warm glow without being too bright.

Passing by the fae, face down on the tables, and loud groups either brainlessly arguing with one another or laughing their asses off, either way, their conversations were unintelligibly slurred. Glancing at the clock hung above the door frame, you wonder just how long they had to have been since it’s only two o’clock. A loud breath escapes you, registering that you’re joining them. Disregard that thought and slide onto a stool regardless of the depressing realisation.

You finally grant yourself a minute to have a proper look at the people working. A large, muscular, older-looking male is behind the bar pouring out drinks, while also barking orders at a couple of younger males out the back, in the kitchen. A tall, black-haired female, her face lips set in a firm line, as she saunters around the room, handing out the drinks the larger male poured. Another stocky male makes his way around the room to wipe down tables and booths, while also pushing in chairs and picking up dirty plates and empty glasses

But the fae who sticks out to you is a female with deep blue skin, and hair a darker navy shade as she walks by some large cabinets with a heavy-looking crate in her arms. Once she notices your presence, a charming smile stretches across her lips and makes her way over to you. Your lips quirk up in response.

“Hi, Love, what can I get you?” her voice has a lovely rasp to it. However, your face heats for an entirely different reason, not having any experience with taverns in general, but also not much with alcohol either.

Contemplating your answer, your hands wringing together in your lap, “What do you recommend?” your words come out softer than intended. Her smile softens slightly, and it makes you tense up, now feeling out of place. “Don’t drink much?”

Her words cause a soft huff to pass your lips. “Not really.” your shoulders slump forward, but her smile brightens once again as she heads over to the alcohol-filled shelves that line the wall behind her. Grabbing a bottle of clear liquid, and a tall glass. She takes the lid off with a pop, and pours out a small amount, slowly sliding the glass across to you. She watches you, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

You pick up the drink, lift it to your nose, and instantly recoil. The smell felt like it singed your nose hairs. A soft chuckle escapes the female's lips. “I wouldn’t recommend sniffing it,” she leans over the counter as if to tell you a secret, “It’s easier if you down it in one go.”

With a slight nod, you lift the glass to your lips, follow her advice a down it in one go. It burns your throat as it slides down, and your nose scrunches slightly in response. “Didn’t taste easier.” a snort escapes her. “Unfortunately this bar doesn’t have any of the fancy sweet drinks that others do.” Your lips curve up. “I’m Benny by the way.” The Owner. Your grin grows a little and you give her your name.

─

Hours later you’re in the same spot, conversation is flowing easily with Benny—who hasn’t left her spot behind the bar since you entered. Refill your drinks when needed. The alcohol is easier with every drink you have. The bad morning your day started with is like a distant memory. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see It’s now dark out.

Sloppily turning to the clock to see the time—11:30—then back to face the female in front of you, now aware of the fact that you had spent your entire birthday in a tavern, you let out a long sigh. Benny tilts her head to the side from the sound, but as she opens her mouth to speak you beat her to it.

“It’s my birthday.” you blurt out, words coming out slurred, but you brush it off and continue. “My entire family forgot. Didn’t even wish me a happy birthday before I left the house.” a small sniffle followed your words.

Benny frowns. “I know who your family is, honey,” you stiffen and she resumes. “You never know, they could have a surprise birthday waiting for you.” trying to lighten your mood at least a little bit, and it makes you straighten briefly before your shoulders curl inward once again. Not believing her words. And by the way, Benny shifts on her feet, you know she doesn’t even believe it.

“Unlikely,” you mumble. Finger swirling around the edge of your empty glass. Benny lets out a huff, tapping her fingers on the wooden bar before she turns around and grabs a different bottle from the shelf, a rich brown one. She also grabs another glass before turning back to you.

She pours a generous amount into both glasses, and rather than bringing it straight to her mouth she holds it in the air, seemingly waiting for you to do the same. So you mirror her movement. She clinks her glass with yours, “To you! Happy Birthday, Love.” Both of you finish your drinks in one go.

“Thank you, Benny.” Looking over your shoulder another sigh exits you. “I should head back now.” Turning back to her. She nods.

As you slide off your seat, swaying as you straighten your dress, readying to leave. “If you need a place to stay, I have an apartment upstairs that needs an owner.” she offers just as you are about to turn away. “I know I don't know your current situation, but a new place to stay might do you some good.” A smile tugs at your lips.

“I don’t have money to pay for it,” You reply. Yes, your sister and her mate have more money than one ever could imagine, you still couldn’t help but feel like you’d owe them if you used any more of it than just drinks you had today.

Benny dismisses your words with a wave of her hand. “Don't worry about that, I have an opening to work here.” she gestures to the bar. “If you don't, I could always help you find a different one.”

Your smile softened slightly. “Thank you, Benny,” repeating your words from earlier. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And with that, you wave her goodbye and exit the tavern. Swaying and stumbling drunkenly over the uneven cobblestone streets, as your mind churns with the thoughts that your family are most likely gathered in the living room, after sharing a lovely family dinner. They’ll probably judge you for the fact that you had a couple of drinks too many, that thought makes you feel a little queasy.

─

After a long time of manoeuvring your way through the nearly empty streets, you finally find yourself staring at the front door of the River House. Dread fills you thinking about what kind of conversation you’re about to have.

With a heavy sigh, you push the door open, stepping inside. The first thing you hear is their loud laughter. The door closes behind you louder than expected, and you grimace. The voices quiet down as you stumble your way towards the sitting room. From the doorway you see all heads turn to you. Everyone’s here. Even Lucien and Varian are seated next to their partners.

“Y/N!” Feyres's cheery voice breaks you from your thoughts. “Your back.” You step closer, her nose flares subtly, and her smile falters. But Nesta’s the one who says something. “You smell like a Tavern.” Her tone is sharp enough to make you flinch.

“I had a couple of drinks.” your reply words slurred, shrugging your shoulders drunkenly, and an uncomfortable silence follows.

“More like the whole bottle.” Mor seemingly trying to lighten the mood, her joke makes a couple of people snicker.

“We didn’t even notice you were gone.” Amren deadpans. Heads whipped in her direction at her statement, ready to scold her. “It’s true. Don’t even try to deny it.” Her voice is harsh.

Your brows pull together at the fact that no one tried to argue, and your nonchalance falters, giving way to frustration and anger at the entirety of the situation and your ruined day.

“It’s my Birthday.” your voice a near growl. Everyone’s eyes widen both at your admission and at your unusual tone of voice. Usually so soft-spoken, and gentle. The complete opposite of right now. Another disappointment.

“I was willing to chalk it up as stress from your own lives.” Your breathing ragged. “But you've been sitting here for hours and like Amren said, you didn’t even realise I was gone for something as small as a family dinner!”

Your eyes flit around the room as you continue, “Oh, and not to mention the fact that you have all taken the time to celebrate every other holiday and birthday! I guess my day isn't important enough to remember compared to the festivities that hardly even get recognized by the general public!” You practically spat your words.

Now you take a moment to look around at them. Feyre’s face is contorted in guilt, Elain looks as if she might cry, Nesta’s staring at her lap, and everyone else is either wide-eyed or unable to meet your gaze.

The lack of response further fuels your rage. The only person who looks as if they might say something is Azriel. His usually stoic features falter, but he hesitates. A look crossing his face that you couldn’t quite make out. Not wanting to linger on that any longer, you turn your gaze back to the rest of them.

You scoff. “Nothing?” Looking up at the ceiling, too many emotions are warring in you and are far too much for you to handle in your drunken state.

At the extended silence, you turn on your heel and make your way back to the entrance. No one even calls after you. That's enough for you to grasp the fact that you can't stay here. Not anymore.

The door slamming behind you, rings throughout the house. It didn’t matter as the cool nighttime air slammed into you, the lingering effects of the alcohol wearing off entirely.

Your arms wrap around yourself to keep the cold out as you amble down the streets of the City of Starlight, the stars shining above you now not bringing the same comfort as they once did. Once again you find yourself outside a familiar building. Making your way inside, Instantly finding who you unconsciously were looking for.

Benny turns towards the entrance as the door shuts, her face falls as she takes in your expression. She quickly makes her way to her, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, and leading you to a more private corner of the tavern.

“Is your offer still on the table?” Your voice is hoarse and watery. Benny gives a nod, ushering you passed the kitchen and up a set of stairs.

A new place. Already feeling more at home than with those who are supposed to care for you.

─────────────────────────

a/n: I know there isn’t any interactions between Az and Reader yet but there will be! This didn’t come out exactly how I wanted, so I might came back to this at some point, and there might also be some spelling mistakes. The editing took longer than expected so sorry for the delay. I’ll try and get a part two out as soon as I can, hope you enjoyed. <3

taglist:

@tiredsleepyhead @blackgirlmagicforever

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x reader angst #azriel angst #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar x reader #acotar #a new place

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celestiamour · 4 months ago

Text

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ bad liar ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by @gothic-rat112 (lost the ask...) ˚₊ ⊹

ft. seong gi-hun x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ how he is when jealous & insecure┊1.2k words

setting: season 1 contains: age gap relationship (unspecified but legal obviously), insecurity & jealousy, he’s a little immature & broke as hell but it’s okay i love pathetic men, reader is a sweetheart, this is all over the place omfg

➤ author's note: okay i kinda went on a tangent, first season because i miss his stupid smile and his fluffy hair (also look at how cute he is in this gif omfg i love him sm, i need to write for him more, underrated in his own show, THE PUPPY EYES)

╰₊✧ honestly, gi-hun isn’t so much as jealous as he is insecure. sure, he has an outgoing personality and always makes you laugh without fail, but he can’t think of any other positive traits aside from that. he doesn’t think of himself as particularly attractive with his scruffy appearance, and he’s painfully aware that he’s lacking when it comes to finances and has a gambling problem to boot. on top of all that, he was a divorced middle-aged man who didn’t even have joint custody of his only daughter and still lived with his mom rent-free, a terrible husband, father, and son— he’s truthfully the type of man people avoid when dating.

╰₊✧ yet he still managed to pull a pretty young thing like you who looks past all that, not sure if you were stupid or desperate. during the first few weeks of being together, he made jokes about still being able to date younger women in his old age because he was still in disbelief it was happening, but when you stuck by his side through all his flaws and the first year passed with you supporting him to get better, insecurity hit him like a ton of bricks when he realized that he was genuinely in love with you and that he didn’t have what it took to be the boyfriend you deserved when he wasn’t even someone his biological family deserved.

╰₊✧ he sees other people buying their girls jewelry and clothing from name-brand stores, taking them out to eat in luxury restaurants with multiple courses, driving them around in european cars, and he’s out here saving money to do something as little as cake for your anniversary. he’s always on cloud nine when he spends time with you, but there’s something so humbling about looking up “broke date ideas” and scraping together what he already has to make it more special. no matter how much things like that don’t matter to you with the mindset of the intention counting more than the price, he still feels shitty about having you pay for most of the things you do together when he’s the man and the older one in the relationship along with the fact that you were barely better off than he was.

walks around to admire the sights: especially during holiday seasons when there are pretty lights, you like holding his hand and admiring the sights of the city you often take for granted. if the streets are empty then he doesn’t mind it, but he does get self-conscious about the looks you both get so it’s not super common.

candlelit dinners of takeout and beer: a regular one, gi-hun likes to gather a bunch of candles to make the place look a little more romantic, maybe even having some roses to make it look nicer. the man doesn’t cook much though, so you’ll just have replated takeout with bottles of beer, but he always makes it lively with conversation and puts effort into fixing his hair to look more handsome.

and anything else he can think of, he can be really creative when it comes to you and you’re pleasantly surprised each time.

╰₊✧ these things bother him a lot more than he will let on, but he tries to stay all smiles around you which you see right through like glass. he’s a bad liar, a trait he would always get in trouble for when he was a child since he couldn’t lie about his antics.

╰₊✧ he feels awful when he finds that you also entered these games to pay off your respective debts, because no matter how much you try to convince him you aren’t, he knows that you intended to use any extra money to help him out as well with his debt being higher than yours. it should be the other way around, he should be the one helping you, and when the first shots are fired during “red light, green light,” he makes you swear that you won’t come back.

╰₊✧ of course, you do come back, because while he is your boyfriend, you’re also a grown-ass woman who can do what she pleases (also because you’re desperate and prefer not to find out what those loan sharks would do to you if it took too long to pay them back, and you might as well go to support gi-hun because you know his ass went back).

╰₊✧ he feels a little bit better about himself seeing all of the other people in a similar position as him, drowning in debt and petrified of death. he tries to be protective over you, but let’s be honest, you’re the protective one who mothers him, and since the constant threat of death is always looming, he lets you do it even if it looks stupid. people are either judgemental or jealous, but there are bigger things to worry about.

“people are staring…” he muttered, his eyes darting around to meet theirs and watching as they looked away the second eye contact was made. “you don’t need to do this, you know, it’s a little embarrassing.”

“i don’t care, let them stare,” you stated simply, rubbing into the back of his shoulders with practiced circular motions. “they are just jealous that they don’t have a cute girlfriend to take care of them like you do, and i want to! your muscles are so tense— i don’t want you participating in the next games when you aren’t in the best shape. we could die any day here, i want to give you all the love i can!”

╰₊✧ jealous of sang-woo with his intelligence and emotional security. even if both of them are wearing the same teal tracksuit, his childhood friend was in here because of failed investments which sounded a lot better than just losing constant bets in gambling dens. (to be fair, if you were gi-hun’s controversially young girlfriend, i don’t think either of you would get along well as he probably looks down on you and you probably find him stuck up, so he doesn’t have to worry about you being stolen away by him). not really jealous of that block-head deok-su hitting on you, after the little altercation they had on the first day, more annoyed than anything but the feeling quickly vanishes when he sees you reject him with a roll of your eyes.

╰₊✧ actually jealous of anyone your age paying attention to you, especially ali who has a really sweet personality and gets along with you really well, maybe even sae-byeok who has a pretty face and is decently nice once you get to know her.

“you need to stop pouting.”

“‘m not pouting…”

“you’re a bad liar, you know that? but it’s so cute,” you exclaimed, reaching out to pinch his cheeks childishly. “you don’t need to be jealous of ali, he’s already married and has a kid.”

“i know, i know…”

“i don’t think you do.”

╰₊✧ it’s so obvious when he’s jealous, it’s actually painful. he stares holes into the head of the person talking to you and is pouty until you address it. he’ll also blush when you call him out and tease him about it, it’s so cute. please give him assurance, pinch his cheeks, ruffle his fluffy hair, and give him lots of kisses, he deserves it.

(author is slightly delirious with a fever, i took medicine dw, i just really wanna kiss gihun)

#📜. her works #seong gi hun #seong gi hun x reader #squid game #squid game x reader

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berryispunk · 1 month ago

Text

Slow Motion

pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

tags: dual POV, slow burn, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, yearning, angst, all of it, longing, best friend! Frankie, feelings denial, soft! Frankie, everyone knows before they do, Santi and Benny are support actors in this, only allusions to smut with this one, the girlfriend is not the villain, idiots in love, kissing

summary: Best friends. Always there, never quite enough. He broke your heart without ever knowing he held it—until everything fell apart, and the only person he wanted was the one he pushed away.

word count: ~ 8k

read on ao3

You and Francisco Morales had been you and him for as long as anyone could remember. Not in the romantic, hand-holding, Sunday brunch kind of way—but in that soul-deep, private-joke, finish-each-other’s-sentences kind of way. Inseparable. A pair that moved through life side by side, facing every challenge together like you were built for it.

He was your person. You were his constant. You’d both sucked at love, made terrible choices, fallen for the wrong people, gotten burned, and picked each other up off the floor more times than you wanted to count. And somewhere along the way, you’d decided Frankie just needed a little push.

So you pushed.

Blind dates, setups, meet-cutes at your yoga class—you threw him at every semi-decent woman within a 15-mile radius like some emotionally-invested Cupid. And he let you, mostly because saying no meant watching that bright-eyed hope in you fade. And he couldn’t stomach that.

But tonight?

Tonight, you could tell, something had changed.

You pulled up to the curb outside the sad little Italian place you’d sent him to, elbow resting on the open window. “Hey, hot stuff. You survived?”

Frankie didn’t answer right away. He opened the door, flopped into the passenger seat like someone returning from battle, and just sat there, staring out at the glowing neon of the restaurant behind him.

You laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “That bad?”

He didn’t answer. Just kept staring straight ahead, jaw tight.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “Was it the weird laugh again? Or did she talk about astrology like it was a PhD?”

Frankie exhaled hard through his nose. “Can we not do this tonight?”

Your smile faltered. “I’m just asking, Frankie. You’re the one who said you wanted to meet someone.”

“No,” he snapped, turning toward you, his voice sharp. “You’re the one who decided I should meet someone.”

You blinked. “Okay... what’s your problem?”

“My problem is I’m exhausted,” he said, his voice heavy. “Tired of these setups. Tired of pretending. Tired of you pushing me into dates I never asked for.”

You sat up straighter, your frustration rising. “Excuse me? You agreed to them. I never forced you.”

“Yeah? Because every time I say no, you look at me like I’m broken. Like you’re trying to fix me.”

Your heart twisted, his words landing on your chest. “Maybe I am trying to fix you, Frankie,” you fired back. “You’ve been stuck for years—half-living, half-dating, half-everything. You don’t even try. I’m the only one who’s been in your corner this whole time, and you’re making me out to be the bad guy?”

He let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t get it.”

“No, I don’t!” you shouted, anger flooding through you like molton. “You’re mad at me for caring? For trying to help? What is this really about?”

Frankie didn’t respond, instead clenching his jaw and gripping his thighs like he was holding back something too big to say.

“Say something!” you demanded, your voice cracking with the weight of everything that had built up between you.

He finally turned to you, eyes blazing. “You want to help? Stop trying to build me a life with someone else when you don’t even know what the hell you’re taking from me.”

And then Silence. Thick, stunned silence.

You stared at him, your throat tight, heart pounding like it may jump out of your chest. “What does that mean?”

He shook his head, suddenly looking like he regretted everything. “Nothing. Forget it.”

“No, you don’t get to say something like that and then shut down,” you snapped, your voice trembling now. “Why are you acting like I’ve betrayed you? Why are you looking at me like I did something wrong?”

“Because you did,” he said, voice softer now, but still laced with fatigue. “And you don’t even see it.”

You looked at him—really looked—and felt something twist in your chest. A rift you couldn’t name but felt in every part of you, ugly and all consuming.

“I don’t understand,” you whispered, more vulnerable than you meant to be.

Frankie stared at the windshield, his face tense. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice low and resigned. “You never do.”

You wanted to scream. Or cry. Or rewind everything to five minutes ago when it was still just you and him. But instead, you turned the key in the ignition and said nothing in return.

And for the first time since you’re hovering in each other’s orbit, the silence between you wasn’t comfortable.

It was unbearable.

Frankie didn’t sleep that night.

He sat on his couch in the dark, the TV on mute, some old movie flickering across the screen while the same sentence looped in his head: "You don’t even know what you’re taking from me."

God. He’d said it. Almost said everything. Too much—but not enough.

He dropped his head back against the couch, eyes stinging. The fight had cracked something wide open, and now he couldn’t shove it back inside. it broke free and was hovering just nearby like a giant shadow of something even bigger than both of you.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

You never fought. Ever. You bickered, teased, got under each other’s skin, but you were a constant in each other’s lives. You knew when to push and when to pull back. You always knew.

Until now.

Now you were probably sitting in your apartment, running the argument over in your head the same way he was, wondering what the hell just happened—wondering why he was the one suddenly flipping the board when you’d only been trying to help.

He stood up and started pacing restlessly.

You didn’t deserve that. He’d lashed out like you’d hurt him on purpose, like it wasn’t killing you too, watching him drag himself through one failed connection after another. You were trying to give him something he couldn’t reach for. Because it wasn’t there.

Not in those other people. Only in you.

And he was such an ass to you, you. The only person in his life that kept up with all his bullshit and by some miracle didn’t leave.

Frankie grabbed his keys twice that night. Almost left. Almost showed up at your door to apologize, to explain—but what would he even say? “Hey, I’m sorry I lost it. Turns out I’m in love with you and watching you help me find someone else feels like dying."Yeah, No.

Instead, he stayed up until morning, slumped in his hoodie on the back steps of his building, smoking a cigarette he didn’t even want, tasting as bitter as the words he told you on his tongue and watched the sky change color. For the first time since you’d become friends, he didn’t know how to come back from this.

Didn’t know if there was a way back.

The night stretched on like an endless tournament—one exhausting round after another, only there was no prize at the end. Just pain. Like you were being tested for some higher purpose you couldn’t quite grasp, and you’d failed without knowing why.

He’d never been like this with you before. Sure, Frankie had a temper, always quick to boil over when something pissed him off—but never at you. Never like that. And now, all you were left with was confusion and this dull, aching hurt in your chest.

All you ever wanted was for him to be happy.

He deserved that. Deserved someone who saw past the sharp edges, the emotional clutter, the history he carried like a second skin. Because despite all of it—despite everything—Frankie Morales was one of the last real gentlemen. A dying breed. Being around him was like witnessing an extinction in slow motion, only you had front-row seats and the last perfect example sitting right there in front of you.

It’s not like the thought hadn’t crossed your mind—showing up to one of those dates and pretending to be his date instead. It had. More than once.

But every time, you chickened out. Too scared to ruin the one good thing in your life. The thing you’d somehow, miraculously, managed to hold onto.

The next morning, everything was too loud.

The clink of your coffee mug. The buzz of your phone. The way the silence in your apartment felt like it had grown teeth overnight.

You kept checking your messages like maybe he’d say something. A joke. A half-apology. Anything.

But nothing came.

Not even a stupid meme.

You stared at your phone, thumb hovering over his name. The little photo you took of him months ago still sat there in the corner of the screen—Frankie in his kitchen, shirt inside out, pretending to argue with a toaster. You remember thinking, this is it. This is what home feels like.

And now it just felt like you’d been locked out and someone tossed the keys.

You typed a message.

“Hey. Are we okay?”

Deleted it.

Tried again.

“I didn’t mean to push. I just…”

Backspaced until the screen was empty again.

You tossed the phone onto the couch like it had personally offended you—then immediately picked it back up. Paced the apartment. Whispered test messages under your breath like they were spells you could get right if you just said them enough times.

But eventually, something clawed its way up from inside you. Something sharp and tired and aching.

And you stopped overthinking. Stopped editing. Stopped protecting both of you from the truth that was already out there, bleeding between the cracks. Lingering.

You sank onto the edge of your bed now, change of scenery, thumb trembling slightly as you typed:

“Frankie, I don’t know what happened to us last night. But I miss you.”

And this time, you hit send.

Then you sat there, phone in your lap, staring at the floor, leg nervously bouncing as you waited for a response.

You kept your phone on loud for days.

It never buzzed. Not once.

You told yourself it was fine. Frankie just needed time. You fought, and it hit hard—maybe harder than either of you expected. Maybe he was licking his wounds. Maybe he didn’t know what to say.

But Frankie always said something. Even when it was stupid. Even when it was sideways and barely made sense, he showed up. A meme, a photo, a “you good?” that carried the weight of a whole conversation.

But this time? Nothing.

And it didn’t just sting—it unraveled you.

The texts stopped. The late-night calls and with it the way you could feel him across town without a word. It was like he'd ghosted his own life, and you were collateral damage.

Until three weeks later, Santi said it like it wasn’t a big deal.

You were helping him stack chairs after a backyard cookout, trying to pretend you weren’t checking your phone every five seconds. And Santi, half-distracted, said:

“You heard Frankie’s seeing someone, right?”

You blinked. Thought maybe you misheard him over the wind chimes or the clatter of metal legs.

“What?”

“Yeah.” Santi shrugged. “Some girl he met at that dive bar on the 14th. It’s new, but… he seems into it.”

You laughed. But it came out too sharp. Too forced. “Since when does Frankie get into anything that quickly?”

Santi paused, squinting at you, like he suddenly realized you hadn’t known. That maybe he’d said too much.

“I just thought—he’s been MIA lately. Figured he told you.”

He hadn’t, not a single word.

And suddenly it all made sense. The silence. The distance. Why he never answered your message. Why it felt like you’d been cut out without ceremony, like a chapter he just skipped over.

It wasn’t like it was with you. You knew that. You felt that.

But it was something. Enough to pull him away. Enough to make him forget to look back.

And standing there with your hands clenched around a folding chair and your heart somewhere between your ribs and the dirt, you realized it: This was heartbreak.

Not the kind that happens when love ends— The kind that happens when it almost begins, and then doesn’t. Impending grief for a feeling, for a connection, for him.

You tried not to spiral after that.

Tried to be the cool, collected version of yourself—the one who let things roll off your back, who didn’t let silence crawl under your skin and nest there. But the truth was uglier than that. It curled up in your stomach, sick and sour, and stayed there. A constant pain you just learned to shoulder.

You stopped texting. Stopped staring at your screen like maybe it was broken.

He’d made his choice.

And you weren’t part of it.

Still, when the group chat lit up about drinks at the bar on Friday, you didn’t bail. Part of you wanted to—wanted to ghost the whole damn night and pretend you were busy or tired or just over it. But the other part, the louder one, needed to see. Needed proof that it wasn’t just in your head. That the silence hadn’t lied.

The bar was warm and loud and exactly the kind of place you used to end up in together, laughing over too many wings and trash-talking each other over darts. You walked in and found the usual suspects—Santi, Benny, Will—clustered near the back corner table.

And then you saw him.

Frankie.

He was already there. Drink in hand. Hair a little neater than usual, no cap whatsoever and a button-down that wasn’t flannel. Beside was a girl perched close. Too close.

You didn’t recognize her. She wasn’t beautiful in that cinematic way, but she had this softness about her—easy to look at, easy to fall into, maybe. Her hand brushed his arm when she laughed. And Frankie—

Frankie smiled.

Not the dumb, half-smirk he used to give you when he was being a pain in the ass. Not the tired, grateful grin that came with late-night takeout and long silences that didn’t need filling. No. This smile was different. Smaller, careful. Like he was holding something back, but offering it anyway.

And that’s when you knew.

He brought her.

To this.

To your table, your friends. The little circle that had always been you and him and everyone else orbiting around the mess you made of each other. You didn’t walk over right away. You hovered by the bar too long, pretending to wait for your drink, pretending your heart wasn’t jackhammering in your chest, pretending you hadn’t just been sucker punched without warning.

When you finally made your way over, Santi gave you a look—one part apology, two parts brace yourself—and pulled out a chair for you to sit.

Frankie’s eyes met yours for half a second. Not a word. Not a smile. Just a blink, a shift in his jaw almost unrecognizable, and then he turned back to her.

That was it.

No hey. No you good? No flicker of the person who used to make space for you without even thinking.

And you sat there, surrounded by laughter and the hum of conversation, with the hollow roar of grief in your ears. Because now you knew what it looked like—what it felt like—when someone moved on and left you behind. Frankie hadn’t just found someone new. He’d brought her into your world like you were never part of it.

And the worst part?

You couldn’t even blame him, because you were the one who told him to try. You were the one who pushed him. And now he was gone. Gone in the way that matters most—not out of your life, but out of reach.

You made it thirty-two minutes.

Thirty-two minutes of nodding along, sipping watered-down vodka, laughing too loud at things that weren’t funny, and pretending like your entire chest wasn’t about to collapse every time she touched him.

Every time he let her.

You didn’t even know her name until Will leaned over and said it like it was normal. Like it didn’t feel like a knife being twisted right under your ribs.

“Mira seems sweet, huh?”

You smiled. A tight, practiced thing. “Sure. Sweet.”

Mira.

The name tasted wrong in your mouth.

And maybe it would’ve stayed quiet—maybe you would’ve kept swallowing it all down like poison you could survive—if Mira hadn’t looked at Frankie, all wide-eyed and innocent, and asked, “How come you’ve never brought me here before?”

Before.

You heard it before he even answered. Before implied history. Ritual. Something that existed long before she did. Frankie paused, just a second. But it was enough.

“This used to be our spot,” he said, voice casual, not looking at you. Giving the words no meaning at all. “It’s been a while.”

Our.

As in you and him.

You swallowed hard and stood up too fast, chair scraping against the floor like a siren. “I need some air.”

Nobody stopped you. Not even him.

The night was warm and loud, headlights dragging down the street like slow thoughts. You didn’t make it to the curb before you heard footsteps behind you, you didn’t need to look to know it’s him.

Frankie.

“Hey,” he said. Not urgent, not guilty. “You good?”

You turned, eyes narrowed. “Do I look good?”

His jaw tightened. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to say anything,” you snapped. “Anything real. Because for the past three weeks, you’ve been radio silent and now you show up with her—like I’m just some extra in your new life?”

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t think you’d take it like this.”

“Like what?” Your voice rose, sharp and brittle. “Like I’m hurt? Like maybe you bringing your rebound into our space like it means nothing would actually mean something to me?”

Frankie’s eyes flashed. “It’s not a rebound.”

“Oh, right. Of course not. It’s serious, huh? That’s why you brought her here—to mark your territory?”

“Stop,” he said. Quiet, but there was power in it. This voice meant no bullshit. “You don’t get to make this ugly.”

“You made it ugly the second you ghosted me.”

That shut him up.

You pushed forward, voice trembling. “You always text back. Always. Even when you’re drunk or pissed or halfway asleep. You always showed up. And now what? I’m just gone?”

Frankie’s mouth opened, then closed. He looked like he wanted to say something, then didn’t. Which pissed you off even more.

“You owe me, Frankie,” you said, stepping in close now, eyes wet but your voice firm. “You owe me honesty. Because I was there. Every time you fell apart, every time you doubted yourself, every time you needed someone—I was there. And the second you get a maybe-kind-of-working-something, I’m just background noise?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then tell me what it is.”

He looked at you then. Really looked. And it cracked something in both of you.

“I didn’t know how to face you,” he admitted, raw and low. “After what I said. After how I said it. I was pissed, and I took it out on you, and you didn’t deserve it.”

“No,” you whispered,brows furrowed deep. “I didn’t.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and ugly.

Then you added, “And now you’ve got her. So I guess I was just... convenient enough”

His face twisted like you’d slapped him.

“You were never convenient,” he said, almost a whisper. “You were the constant.”

You stared at him, heart clawing at your ribs, and for one stupid second, you wanted to kiss him just to make it all go away.

But then Mira opened the bar door behind you and called out, “Hey, babe, everything okay?” her voice was so sickeningly sweet, it made your stomach turn. You didn’t look at her, didn’t need to. Frankie looked back once at her, then down at the ground like it was suddenly the only thing that made sense. He didn’t even look at you.

You stepped back, more stumbling than walking. Shaky steps, as unsafe as you felt.

“Yeah,” you said, voice steady now. Cold. “Everything’s crystal fucking clear.”

And then you walked away.

Frankie tossed and turned, stared at the ceiling, counted sheep. It wasn’t because of the heat or the creaking pipes in his apartment or Mira breathing soft and even beside him—but because your voice kept replaying in his head like a broken record.

“I was just… convenient enough.”

He’d heard a lot of things in his life. Screaming commanders. Crying civilians. Doors slamming, hearts breaking, all kinds of silence. The one that makes your ears ring and the one that makes your chest tight. But your voice cracking like that?

That was new, brutal.

He sat on the edge of the bed now, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. The digital clock blinked 3:47 a.m in an alarming red light. Mira shifted behind him, half-asleep.

“You okay, babe?” she mumbled, barely conscious.

“Yeah,” he said. Automatically. Out of habit, out of guilt. “Just need some water.”

He got up, padded barefoot into the kitchen, and stood there in the dark, palms braced on the countertop like it was the only thing holding him up.

There was a photo stuck to the fridge—one you’d taken. Him and Santi arm-wrestling at your place, stupid grins on their faces, half a beer spilled in the corner of the frame. He remembered you laughing behind the camera, saying “Act natural, idiots.”

He hadn’t taken it down, he couldn’t.

He grabbed a glass but didn’t fill it. Just stood there, staring into vast nothingness, thinking of you. How you didn’t yell until the end. How you didn’t cry until he turned away. How you said “crystal fucking clear” like you meant it.

And for the first time, it hit him:

You weren’t mad because he was dating someone. You were mad because he’d shut you out. You were hurt because he made you feel replaceable.

But you weren’t. God, you weren’t, you never could be.

You were the one person who saw through all his bullshit and still stuck around. You were the reason he even considered fixing himself. Not for you—but because when you believed in him, he started thinking maybe he could believe in himself too.

He closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his hand into his eye sockets like he could rub the image of you out of his head. Didn’t work. You were everywhere.

In the mug you left once and he never returned. In the hoodie Mira kept asking about—"Whose is this?" your scent still clinging to it. In the way he couldn’t laugh at dumb memes anymore without checking if you’d seen them too.

Frankie Morales was in a relationship, sure.

But he was in love with someone who wouldn’t even look at him now.

And he only had himself to blame.

The next morning, he made breakfast. French toast, Strawberries on the side, just how Mira liked them. He kissed her shoulder while she sipped her coffee and made her laugh hard enough to snort. He was attentive. Present. Trying his best to silence the ghost in the room that only he could feel.

And when she asked, softly, cautiously, “You okay? You’ve been a little... distant,”

He smiled and lied. “I’m good. Better than I’ve been in a long time.”

She lit up. Actually lit up. And the worst part? She bought it.

Hook, line, and sinker.

And Frankie hated himself for how easy the lie slipped out.

It was supposed to be game night. You showed up late on purpose—half hoping maybe he wouldn't be there, half terrified that he would. But the second you walked in and saw him sitting on the couch, hand resting on the back of her chair, like it was the most natural thing in the world?

Your heart dropped.

You tried not to stare. Tried not to see it. The way her laugh came easy. The way Frankie leaned in to say something just for her, close enough to catch the scent of her hair. How she reached for his knee when she laughed too hard at something Benny said. He’d never brought girls to this. Not game nights. Not Sunday barbecues. Not this space—the one sacred little pocket of your friendship he used to keep just for the people who knew him best.

For you.

Your chest tightened like someone was wringing out your lungs.

He glanced at you once, a flick of the eyes, and then quickly away like it burned. No smile. No wave. Just... nothing. Like he hadn’t spent the last few years orbiting your every step. Like you weren’t the one who held him through half of his worst nights. Like that fight didn’t leave a crater between you big enough to swallow this whole damn room.

Santi handed you a beer. You didn’t even remember asking for one.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded too quickly. “Yeah, fine.”

But your hand shook when you took a sip, and you hoped no one noticed.

Mira laughed again. Loud, beautiful, perfect. And Frankie ? He laughed with her. Not that half-hearted chuckle he used to do when dates didn’t land. This one was full. Real.

You excused yourself to the kitchen before you could break down in front of everyone.

You barely made it in there before the tears started.

Silent at first—just a sting in your eyes, a tightness in your throat. You braced your hands against the counter, trying to breathe through it, trying not to fall apart like some cliché in a movie. But it wasn’t just heartbreak—it was the kind of grief that comes when someone doesn’t die, they just stop being yours.

And then you heard footsteps.

Santi.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just came up beside you, leaned his hip against the counter, and cracked open a beer like he hadn’t just walked in on a silent breakdown.

Then, quietly, observed like he always was. “Yeah... I figured this would happen.”

Your lip trembled, and you shook your head, wiping under your eyes quickly like it might hide the mess.

“I’m fine,” you lied even if your voice betrayed you in its thinness.

“You’re not,” he said gently. “And it’s okay. You don’t have to be.”

That broke something. A small, shattering sound in your chest. You let out a breath that turned into a sob and folded into him before you could stop yourself. Santi pulled you in without hesitation. No questions. no pressure. Just arms that held tight and steady while your shoulders shook, his hand on the back of your head.

“I didn’t think he’d really...” you started, but the rest dissolved into his shirt.

Santi rubbed slow circles on your back. “I know. None of us did.”

You stayed like that for a moment, tucked against him, letting his steady presence fade out some of the noise when another voice cut through the quiet.

“Jesus,” Benny muttered from the doorway. “He’s a goddamn idiot.”

You laughed against Santi’s shoulder, the sound more broken than amused. “Don’t say that. She’s not the problem.”

“I’m not talking about her,” Benny said, stepping inside. “I’m talking about him. He’s sitting out there like you never existed. That’s not Frankie. Not the one I know at least.”

Santi nodded. “He’s... stuck. Pretending so hard he forgot he’s not that good at it.”

And they didn’t say it—no one said it—but you all knew exactly who Frankie used to be good at pretending with. You. He never had to.

You wiped your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, trying to pull yourself together. “I don’t want to ruin the night.”

“You’re not,” Santi said firmly.

“You showing up tonight?” Benny asked. “That made the night.”

You offered a shaky smile, grateful even if you couldn’t quite show it yet.

Out in the living room, you could still hear Mira’s laugh. Still hear Frankie’s voice, low and warm and not at all the boy who used to show up at your door at 2 a.m., asking if you had Pop-Tarts and time. And maybe everyone thought he’d moved on. Maybe he thought he had, too. But if he had even glanced toward the kitchen just once—he would’ve seen the other two important people in his life holding up the one person he’d forgotten how to hold.

Nobody prepares you for the call you get late at night when you were supposed to sleep, telling you that your dad is in the hospital because of a heart attack, his condition critical.

Frankie sat on the edge of the bed, hands in his hair, breathing like he’d forgotten how. Mira stirred beside him, mumbled something soft and half-asleep, but it barely registered. The words from the phone call were still ringing in his ears like a fire alarm.

Chest pain. Ambulance. Unresponsive for two minutes.

His first instinct wasn’t to shake Mira awake.It wasn’t to call his mom, or Benny, or even Santi. It was you.

His hand moved before his brain could stop it—phone unlocked, your name already pulled up in the recents even though it had been weeks. His thumb hovered over the call button like it had muscle memory. Because in every other version of this moment—in every other emergency, every broken-down car, every fight, every loss—it had always been you.

He didn’t call. Not right away. He just stared at your name, and the photo next to it—blurry, laughing, eyes shining from that road trip last year when the AC broke and you threatened to abandon him on the side of the highway.

And that’s when it hit him, hard, fast and cold:

This isn’t a best friend anymore. This is the first person I think of when my world ends.

His hand recoiled from the phone, like it bit him.

Mira was sitting up now, rubbing her eyes. “Frankie? What’s going on?”

“My dad,” he said, voice as hollow as he felt. “He’s in the hospital.”

She was by his side in a second, hands on his shoulders, asking the right things, offering to come with him. She said all the things a good girlfriend should say, but they didn’t land.

Because all he could think about was you. Not just because you would’ve been there in a heartbeat—but because you’d know what to say. Because you’d reach for his hand before he asked. Because you’d sit beside him in that sterile waiting room and not talk unless he needed you to. Because with you, he wouldn’t have to explain what this felt like. You just… would.

And that’s when it shifted. In a way that couldn’t be undone. It wasn’t about dating, or jealousy, or the fight, or Mira. It wasn’t even about the timing anymore.

It was about truth and for the first time in weeks, it crushed him.

The fluorescent lights in the waiting room buzzed low, mechanical. Too bright for a place this heavy with dread. Frankie sat hunched over in a plastic chair, elbows on his knees, staring at the tiled floor like it owed him something—answers, maybe. A break. Mira had gone to grab coffee, or air, or space. She hadn’t specified and he hadn’t asked.

And then he heard your voice.

Soft, tentative.

“Frankie?”

He didn’t look up at first. Thought maybe his brain had conjured you again—just like it had when he’d scrolled past your name in his phone and nearly called you on instinct, like some kind of survival response. But then you were closer and right in front of him.

There, not just an imagination. Real.

Hair in this messy bun you always did when you couldn’t be bothered to straighten it. Eyes wide and red-rimmed like you’d cried in the car before coming in. Like the thought of him hurting still cracked you open even if he hurt you first.

“I’m sorry,” you said gently. “Santi told me. I just— I needed to be here.”

His breath caught. Not because you were there. Not even because you showed up without needing to be asked. But because part of him had known you would. Even now. Even after everything.

“You didn’t have to come,” he muttered, but it came out hoarse. Hollow, useless.

“I know.” You sat down beside him anyway. Close, but not touching. “But I wanted to.”

Frankie didn’t know what to say. His hands shook. He dug his nails into his palms like that could stop the ache building under his ribs. But it was too much, everything was too much.

“I can’t lose him,” he said, voice cracking on the last word.

And that’s when you moved. No hesitation. Just reached for him, pulled him in like you’d done a hundred times before. Only this time it broke him.

His arms wrapped around your waist and he buried his face in your shoulder and for the first time since he got that call, Frankie cried. Not loud, not dramatic. Just silent, shaking tears against the only person who ever made him feel like he was allowed to fall apart.

You held him, steady and firm. Holding his broken pieces together like you always did. Your hand in his hair, your breath steady and close. No questions, no anger, no I-told-you-so.

Just you, the one constant that always has been there and it all made it worse. Because this wasn’t Mira. This wasn’t temporary comfort, this was home. And he’d spent weeks pretending it wasn’t.

You were still holding him when Mira walked back in. Frankie’s face hidden in your neck. His hands clutching the back of your sweatshirt like he’d sink without you. His entire body folded into yours in that desperate, wordless way that doesn’t look like friendship. It looks like gravity.

She stopped mid-step.

You didn’t see her at first. You just whispered, “I’m here, okay?” and brushed your fingers through his hair the way you always did when things got bad.

But Frankie did see her and lifted his head. Eyes glassy, face streaked with silent tears, breathing uneven. His gaze locked on Mira—and in that instant, everything in the room went still. Her expression didn’t crack. Not really,not yet. But her eyes said enough.

This wasn’t the grief of a girlfriend who’d been left out. It was the grief of a woman realizing she’d never been in.

“I brought you coffee,” she said, voice tight, like she was reading a script someone handed her last minute. Frankie stood up too fast. Swiped at his face like he could erase what she saw. “Mira, it’s not—”

She held up her hand. Calm, composed. Kind.

“Don’t,” she said quietly. “You don’t owe me a performance.”

You stepped back instinctively, putting space between you and Frankie like that might fix it. Like that might soften the blow. But Mira wasn’t stupid, she wasn’t cruel, either. She just nodded, a silent resignation and set the coffee on the table beside him, looking at him with an unreadable expression.

“You should’ve called her first,” she said. “I think we both know that.”

Then she left.

No big scene. No yelling. Just the hollow echo of her footsteps down the hallway and the sound of a door swinging closed behind her. Frankie didn’t move.He just stood there, looking at the coffee, shoulders stiff like they were holding the rest of him. And you?

You didn’t say I told you so or she deserved more or what are you doing even if you had every right to. You just picked up the damn coffee, pressed it into his hands, and whispered, “Drink, you’re shaking.”

And he did, even in the wreckage, in the fallout of his silence, you stayed.

It was sometime after 2 a.m. when you finally convinced Frankie to sit down again.

The ICU floor had gone still, lights dimmed, nurses moving in hushed, practiced rhythm behind sliding glass. No updates. Just waiting. You were still there. So was Santi—sitting cross-legged on the floor with a vending machine coffee and a million-miles-away stare. Benny had shown up with tacos no one asked for, claiming ‘grief makes you hungry’ and refused to leave since.

Nobody asked questions. Not about Mira, not about crying. Not even about the way Frankie hadn’t let go of your hand since you laced your fingers through his hours ago.

Santi finally passed him a coffee. “Still hot. Miracle of science.”

Frankie took it with both hands. “Thanks.” His soft brown eyes full of sorrow.

Benny threw an arm around the back of the chair beside him, stretching like he owned the room. Typical. “Listen, Morales, I know it’s not a great time, but if your old man pulls through and you don’t tell him we all waited like a bunch of loyal golden retrievers, I’m gonna start charging emotional support fees.”

That pulled the smallest breath of a laugh out of Frankie, which was the point. You gave Benny a grateful look over Frankie’s shoulder. He winked and shoved a half-eaten taco into his mouth like it was his life’s mission.

Santi leaned forward, arms on his knees. “You good on food? Water? Want me to harass a nurse?”

Frankie shook his head, lips pressed tight. Then softer, “Thanks, man.”

“You don’t have to thank us,” you said, your thumb brushing lightly against his. “This is what we do.”

Frankie didn’t answer. But his grip tightened. Because he felt it—the thing that held him upright. It wasn’t Mira. It wasn’t some illusion of romance or a picture-perfect fix.

It was this. You, Santi and Benny.

People who’d sit with him in fluorescent hallways all night long. Who didn’t flinch at his mess. Who knew him and stayed anyway. Chosen family. And for the first time since he got that call, Frankie felt the sharp edge of loneliness dull just enough to breathe.

You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath until the nurse smiled.

“He’s stable,” she said gently, as if the words might shatter in the air. “It’ll be a long road, but he made it through the worst.”

Frankie didn’t react at first. He just sat there, staring at the tiles like he hadn’t heard her. Then something in his shoulders sagged. His whole body exhaled. Like the fear that had been coiled so tightly in him all night finally let go.

You touched his arm. Lightly. Carefully. “He’s okay,” you said. And the words felt like a blessing.

Santi clapped him on the back, eyes tired but warm. “We’ll be back in a few hours. Get some rest if you can.”

Benny stood, stretched like a lazy cat, then leaned down and pressed his knuckles into Frankie’s shoulder. “Try not to emotionally combust while we’re gone. I’ve bonded with your old man now—I’m personally invested.”

They left without needing to be told. That’s what family does.

The quiet that followed was heavy. It settled over the waiting room in soft waves—early sunlight through the blinds, the hum of machines, the lingering tension that hadn’t quite disappeared with the good news. Frankie hadn’t let go of your hand all night, it’s been sweaty and uncomfortable at times but you wouldn’t say anything. But suddenly he let loose and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes trained on the floor.

“You didn’t have to come.” You swallowed hard.

“Don’t say that.”

He didn’t look at you. “I called her first.”

Your heart twisted, but you kept your voice steady. “Of course you did.”

“No,” he said. “I wanted to call you.”

He said it like it was a confession. Like it cost him something to get it out.

“I started dialing,” he went on, “but I hung up. I told myself it wasn’t fair. That I couldn’t ask you to show up again—not after everything I’ve already taken.”

You stayed quiet, let him speak.

“I tried,” he said, voice breaking. “I tried so fucking hard to move on. To convince myself that Mira was good, that she made sense. That she could be the person I needed.”

He finally looked at you and it took all your air out of your lungs.

“And she’s not you, she’ll never be.”

The words slammed into you. Hard and simple and impossible to miss.

“I thought I could keep it buried. That if I never said it out loud, I could live with it. But when I got the call about my dad, when I thought I might lose him—I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. The only person I wanted was you.”

You couldn’t breathe for a second. Couldn’t think.

Frankie scrubbed a hand over his face, tears in his eyes he didn’t bother hiding anymore. “I don’t expect anything. I know I wrecked it. I just… I needed you to know. Because if I lost him and never told you the truth, I don’t think I could’ve carried that.”

You reached out before your brain caught up, threading your fingers through his again, lifting it up to your lips and kissed his knuckles.

He looked smaller like this. Not weak, just real. Raw. All things he never let anyone see except you. You didn’t say anything. Because some truths didn’t need answers right away—they just needed air. And this one, between you and him, was finally breathing.

It didn’t happen in a single moment. There was no dramatic speech, no fireworks. No declarations in the rain.

Just… quiet.

The kind that came with knowing someone inside and out. The kind that had always lived between you.

A few days after the hospital, you showed up at his door with two coffees and a bag of something warm, and he didn’t question it. Just stepped aside and let you in like you’d never left. You curled up on the couch, tucked your legs under you like you always did, and when your fingers brushed reaching for the remote, you didn’t move away. Neither did he.

After that, it was movie nights again. Grocery runs together. Your hoodie hanging off the back of his kitchen chair. Your hair in his sink. He never asked you to stay, but you did.Until one day, you just… were. A part of his , his rhythm, his everything, like you always were, just without holding back now. Frankie wasn’t afraid to name it anymore.

No one asked questions. Not Benny, not Santi. Maybe because they’d all seen it before he had. Maybe because it was written all over both your faces the second the storm passed.

You were all at Benny’s one night—barbecue smoke thick in the air, beers half-drunk, someone playing music off an old speaker—and you were curled into his side like gravity had always meant for it. Your head on his shoulder, a small gesture but so monumental to him.

And Santi, mouth full of ribs, just grinned and muttered, “Finally.”

Frankie looked over at him. “What?”

“You two. Took you long enough. Benny and I had a whole betting pool.”

Benny snorted. “I lost, by the way. Thought it’d take ‘till Christmas.”

You laughed into his shoulder. Warm and soft and unmistakably you. Frankie rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile pulling at his mouth. “Real supportive friends I’ve got.”

Benny raised his bottle. “We’re rooting for you, Morales. Doesn’t mean we can’t roast you while we do it.”

Later, after the sun dipped low and the night got quieter, you tugged him out onto Benny’s balcony. Just the two of you. The city stretched out in front of you, all hazy lights and faraway sounds. You leaned on the railing beside him, arms brushing against each other.

“I know you were a bit slow at times,” you said, eyes on the skyline. “But this… this was slow motion.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I had a lot of shit in my head, okay?”

“I know,” you said, voice softer now. “But I was right there.”

He turned to you. Took in your face, lit by the dim glow of porch light and stars above you. That expression he’d always known but only just let himself hold onto.

“You’ve always been there,” he echoed.

And then he kissed you.

Not like the end of something, not even like the start. His hands in your hair, your mouth meeting his like it already knew the shape of him. Slow, sure and welcoming.

The sun eased into the room slowly and quiet, like it knew better than to speak after the kind of night that changed everything.

You lay on your side, tangled in sheets that still smelled like him—like heat and skin and something you’d waited years to have. Frankie was asleep beside you, one arm stretched toward where your body had just been, hand curled loose on the pillow as if even in sleep he couldn’t let you go too far.

You reached for him instinctively, fingers brushing the curve of his shoulder, then trailing down his arm like you were retracing last night’s map.

It played like a movie behind your eyes. His hands, his mouth, the way he said your name like it broke something open inside him every time. The first kiss, not rushed but anchored, like he’d known exactly what he was doing—like he’d been dreaming about it and was just finally awake. Your lips tingled at the memory of where he’d kissed you. Where he lingered. Your skin still hummed in the places his hands had claimed, like he’d memorized you with his fingertips.

You pressed your fingers to your own mouth, not to stop a smile, but to feel him again. To remember how it felt when he whispered things you never thought you’d hear from him—need you, been dreaming about this, can’t believe it’s real.

Your breath caught. Not from lust, but from how right it all had felt.

The mattress dipped behind you and suddenly, there he was—still half-asleep, hair a disheveled mess, voice low and rough as he murmured, ‘Where’d you go?’ Only one eye open, just enough to peek at you.

You smiled, settling back into the warmth of him as his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest like you belonged there.

“Was just thinking.”

Frankie pressed a kiss to the back of your shoulder, slow and warm and so him, it made your throat go tight.

“’Bout what?” he mumbled.

You smiled. “When it happened for me.”

He went still behind you. “What?”

“When I fell for you.”

His breath hitched, just slightly, and his hand tightened at your hip. “Yeah?” he whispered. “When was it?”

You let out a soft laugh. “That day you showed up at my apartment soaking wet ‘cause your car broke down and you needed to borrow a charger. You were dripping water on my rug and swearing in Spanish under your breath like the world personally offended you. I made you tea, remember?”

He groaned. “I do. I was a mess.”

“And I just… looked at you. And felt it.”

Frankie was quiet for a second, then leaned in, lips brushing the back of your neck. “You know when it happened for me?”

You turned your head slightly. “Tell me.”

“That night we crashed at my place after the bar. You passed out on the couch, and I tried to sleep. I thought I’d be fine, but I had one of the nightmares. Bad one.”

Your breath held in your chest.

“I woke up sweating, choking on my own damn breath, and before I could even sit up, you were there. Not scared, not freaked out. Just there. Sat beside me, hand on my back. Let me breathe. Didn’t say anything stupid. And most importantly you didn’t run.”

Your heart clenched.

“That was it,” he said quietly. “That’s when I knew.”

You turned in his arms, met his eyes, your hands cupping his face like he might disappear if you blinked too fast, thumbs stroking his cheekbones.

He looked at you with those warm, deep brown eyes—like melted earth after rain and it felt like he’d never seen anything more certain. More beautiful. The same way he looked at you that night on his couch, when you didn’t flinch at the worst parts of him. When you just held him, no questions asked, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like maybe love had already happened and neither of you had realized it yet.

And when he kissed you this time, it wasn’t wild or desperate—it was soft. Full of all the things neither of you had said for years. The things you didn’t need to say anymore.

Because you knew.

You both knew.

thank you so much for reading <3

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no-goodbyes-no-regrets · 5 months ago

Text

Here's a little "nobody knows we're back together" ficlet that I definitely didn't write while avoiding the prompts in my inbox.😅🙊

---

"Buck! Where are you? I've been banging on your door for the last fifteen minutes, your neighbours are going to call the cops on me soon." Chim said when Buck finally answered his phone.

"Chim? What's going on?" He asked, still half asleep.

Two minutes ago he'd been warm and comfortable, asleep in Tommy's arms, planning on enjoying the fact neither of them had anywhere to be for the next three days, and now his brother in law was yelling at him over the phone.

"What's going on is that I'm outside your door and I need you to open up before I get arrested for disrupting the peace."

"That's not a thing." Buck mumbled as he reluctantly untangled himself from Tommy's grip and looked around for something to wear.

He put the call on speaker as he pulled a hoodie over his head and was vaguely aware of Chim telling him it was most definitely a thing while putting on a pair of sweats that may or may not be his.

"Where are you going? Come back to bed." Tommy mumbled, reaching out for him. His hair was a mess and there were pillow creases in his cheek, but Buck thought he'd never looked better.

"Someone's at the door. I'll be right back." he leaned down for a kiss and only just managed to resist the urge of letting his boyfriend pull him back into bed with him.

"Hurry back."

"Yeah, I'll get rid of him and then I'm all yours."

"I can hear you, you know." Chim's voice came through the phone. "And will you just open the damn door already?"

"I'm coming, relax." Buck mumbled and dropped a kiss in Tommy's hair before making his way down the stairs. He hoped whatever Chim's problem was, would be an easy fix and he'd be back in Tommy's arms soon.

They'd been back together for a few weeks now, after Buck had finally decided to call Tommy, and then show up on his doorstep when he hadn't answered.

They'd yelled and cried until they'd both been exhausted and collapsed into bed together for the best night's sleep either of them had had since the break up.

The next morning they'd decided to keep things to themselves for a while, to actually enjoy dating and getting to know each other without friends and family getting involved.

As far as he knew nobody suspected anything, though that could be changing soon.

Buck rubbed the sleep from his eyes and opened the door.

"Finally! Your neighbour from down the hall is this close to calling the cops on me." Chim held up his thumb and pointer finger, barely an inch apart, as he walked into the loft, followed by Jee-yun who was holding onto his other hand, looking unsure of what was going on.

"What? Which one?"

"Does it matter?"

"No I suppose not." Buck mumbled, closing the door behind Chim. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? I'm here to drop off your niece, who you agreed to watch today while both me and Maddie picked up extra shifts."

"Wait, what? When did I agree to that? Why are you working an extra shift?"

"I don't know, the second child that's on its way maybe? Or the family trip to Korea we've got planned for next year? That I told you about. More than once."

"I... Uh... Yeah... Ok... Right."

And whoever you've got up there can either leave or get down here and deal with you watching your niece." Chim said, raising his voice slightly and yelling up the stairs." I heard you talking to someone so don't try the there's no-one there thing."

Buck sighed.

There was no way Chim was going to let this go. And if he was, Jee would tell him or Maddie by the time they came to pick her up.

"Babe, are you awake? Just put some clothes on and get down here a minute."

"Babe? You call your hook up babe?" Chim asked but Buck ignored him.

They heard the bed creak and there was some shuffling upstairs.

"I think I've got your sweats, just grab mine." Buck called out and did his best to ignore the looks Chim was giving him.

"You've got a guy up there? Well good for you, getting back out there after Tommy. You're not getting out of babysitting though."

Buck gave him a slight shrug and just kept watching the top of the stairs.

He could tell the exact moment Tommy came into view and Chim recognised him without even watching either of them.

Tommy slowly walked down the stairs, still half asleep, and wearing Buck's clothes. He gave Chim a half wave as he shuffled past him and over to Buck.

"Morning." he pressed a dry kiss to Buck's lips and then turned to face Chim. "Morning Howie. I hope you'll forgive me for not giving you a good morning kiss, I haven't brushed my teeth yet."

"But you will kiss me before brushing your teeth?" Buck teased and Tommy tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

"I think we both know I've done a lot more than that without brushing my teeth and you didn't seem to mind."

Buck laughed a little but decided not to argue with him.

"When did this happen? When did you get back together? Are you back together?"

"We are." Tommy confirmed, slipping an arm around Buck's waist and sleepily resting his head on his shoulder.

"We got back together a few weeks ago but we wanted to keep it quiet for now." Buck explained. "But I guess everyone will know within the hour now."

Chim looked at them, trying to process the information, until suddenly the loud music from one of Jee's favourite shows started blaring through the loft.

Buck kind of regretted teaching her how to work his TV.

"I... You... But..." Chim stammered then focused on Tommy. "Wait... When you blew me off last week when I wanted to take you out to karaoke..."

"I had plans with Evan."

"I can't believe it." he mumbled and turned to Buck. "But you're still baking."

"We bake together. And some of the stuff I've brought in the past few weeks was store bought." Buck explained. "We just wanted to enjoy being together without everyone else getting involved. I'm just... tired of everyone telling me what to do or what I feel. I want to be with him, I love him."

Tommy lifted his head and smiled.

"I love you too." he said and the two of them shared a kiss.

"I... am happy for you guys." Chim settled on. "and you're going to tell me exactly how and when this happened." he gestured to the two of them. "But I'm running late for my shift and we need the money so..." he trailed off and quickly walked over to Jee. "Sweetheart, daddy has to go to work now, ok? You be good for your uncle Buck and uncle Tommy."

Jee nodded, barely paying attention to her father, eyes fixed on the TV screen. Chim kissed the top of her head and turned back to Buck and Tommy.

"Maddie will pick her up after her shift. She'll text you when she's on her way." he told them, making his way to the door. "You owe me a drink and a night of karaoke, Kinard."

"Sure. Text me. We'll pick a date."

"Sure. If you think you can fit me in between work and making out with my brother in law." Chim joked. "Ok I have to go. Have a good day guys, and please don't traumatise my daughter." he laughed and walked out the door, only to come back in right away. "Don't think this means you can elope when you get married. I need to see you all dressed up and standing up in front of everyone. Just so I can remind you I got you together." he paused and looked at Tommy. "Just don't give him a clipboard."

#Tevan #bucktommy #tevan fic #bucktommy fic

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adelheidvonschicksal · 1 year ago

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hii id like to request a how l&d boys act when they're jealous :3 feel free to ignore if u don't feel like it or thanks in advance if u do!! love your works sm xx

How the Boys Act When They’re Jealous

Pairing: xavier x gn!reader, rafayel x gn!reader, zayne x gn!reader

A/N: The game needs more jealous Zayne, and Lost in your eyes moments with Raf. Thanks for waiting! <3

Xavier is an absolute menace.

He’s extremely possessive over you, and he’s well aware of it.

You care a lot about him, but good luck stopping him from being a jealous dummy any time soon. He already knows Jeremiah doesn’t have feelings for you, but is that going to stop him from spraying the other man with a plant mister when he gets to close? Nope.

Luckily for Jeremiah, Xavier likes him. They’re friends. The other man finds it funny to even tease him a little by poking at that jealous side. Everyone else doesn’t have the same privilege.

When he's not glaring, Xavier tries to be subtle about, dropping hints here and there about how you’re his lover. He’ll interrupt your conversations with other men when they drag on too long, so he can talk with his partner, his neighbor, his napping buddy.

Suddenly, everything he says can be taken the wrong way. He mentions how he had a good time sleeping together (when it was literal sleeping). He says the two of you should got out to dinner again or that the lunch you made him for work was very tasty (really you wanted to avoid the apartment complex catching on fire). He might also “jokingly” state within hearing distance of your new friend that the two of you act like a married couple. It’s not his fault if someone takes it the wrong way; you don’t have to look so embarrassed about it.

Xavier likes to flaunt his status a little; he fixes your hair and dusts off your clothes. He would do this for you even if he wasn’t jealous, but it’s a bonus that it gets others to back off and gets your attention on him with your cute little pout.

Worse comes to worst, he isn’t afraid of using underhanded methods to fail any attempt at someone else trying to steal you away from him; even if that means knocking out the streetlights with his Evol to get your coworker to go home early (who even takes 20 minutes to say goodbye anyway? Someone with ill intentions, that’s who.).

He’ll deny it. Deny. Deny. Deny. He’s not jealous. He just wants to know more about your friend. How long have you known each other? Do you go out at night together? Why not invite him sometimes? It takes a few pokes to get him to admit it.

Jealous Xavier can be a moody Xavier; he’s usually calm and easygoing, patient with most of the world except with those who try to flirt with you, and you, if you should flirt back. Though, he has no problem reminding you why he is the only one you should have eyes for whether it be through words, action, or…other methods best left after dark.

It’s obvious when Rafayel is jealous.

It starts as jokes, usually, with a light dust of jealousy like sprinkles on a donut.

“What’s your new friend like? Are they more fun than me,” he asks, trying to coax you into admitting how much more you like him, a little to assuage his jealousy and a little to stroke his own ego.

He’s confident in being your partner and having a bond that has lasted millenniums. So, when a random likes you, it’s usually not a huge deal. He can confidently deal with it, wrapping an arm around your waist or shoulder and putting on his charm as he calls you honey with a lift to his voice, as if he didn’t notice the person who was trying to flirt with you.

His jealousy can even be funny sometimes even cute. He’ll get this pouty look on his face whenever you place your attention on animals, cooing and petting them. He even gets jealous of your dear child, Reddie, from time to time. You love that clumsy fish so much. It couldn’t even stop itself from being caught by humans. Why would you want to play with Reddie so much when you already got a fish you can pet. Please pet him.

When his jealousy gets really bad though, he can be snippy. He’s vindictive, asking if you forgot about him and if you wouldn’t rather hang out with your other boyfriend. His jokes become a little less funny and a little meaner, and he’ll be quick to demand an explanation in a voice a little tighter and bitter than you’re used to from him.

If you get mad and try to leave, he’s pulling you back. He doesn’t actually want you to go but he’s too stubborn to admit that maybe he’s being jealous over nothing.

He just doesn’t want you to forget him again.

On the other hand, seeing you jealous? He eats it up.

Zayne doesn’t like his jealousy.

He tries to play it cool and be mature about these things. He’d never interrupt you talking to another person, but he most definitely watches the situation out the corner of his eye. He wants to digest every word and every bit of body language he can about the situation, going as far as pretending to work to have an excuse to stay and listen in.

Zayne wants to be rational about things, but he’s never been completely rational when it comes to you. You have a bad way of making him act out of character (or passionately as you call it).

This emotion always sneaks up on him unexpectedly and makes him clumsier than normal. He’ll give himself away easily, asking about your plans with the other person or if you noticed the lovesick puppy look they gave you when you looked their way. It makes him blush when you mention that you adore his puppy eyes more. If he says he doesn’t do that, well, you’ll simply have to call Dr. Greyson and Yvonne to back you up.

Zayne can be very picky about other people trying to take your time, like not wanting someone else to dance with you or take you out to a new tourist location; he always promises his free time to you, the little he has of it, so he requests that you wait for him. He’ll accompany you wherever you want to go.

Zayne is very jealous of others who can make you laugh. He really likes how easygoing, talkative, and animated you are so he gets insecure when someone else can make you act that way better than he can; however, he feels selfish because you’re happy and that should be enough.

In the end, he blames himself for his own jealousy, questioning if he read too much into the situation or in your relationship. He’s the quickest to apologize for his jealousy if you pick up on it.

When Zayne thinks you are pursuing someone else, he becomes blunter. He suddenly has a lot more relationship advice about being careful who you keep in your company and warning you to make sure there’s no doubt when deciding on something important like your partner. He also tends to cut conversations about any other potential partner you might like short and unintentionally be rude to your love interest.

That’s not to say he won’t try to win you over; when push comes to shove and the risk of losing you becomes too great, he isn’t afraid to finally tell you how he feels in the best way he can. All he can do is try.

If you don’t like him back, he will allow jealousy to silently have him, choosing to suffer in it, as long as you’re happy with whoever you choose.

However, that does not mean he has to like your partner as well. And if they ever hurt you, he rather not think of what he’d do if that should happen.

#love and deepspace x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #lads x reader #lnd x reader

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moonastro · 7 months ago

Text

Groom persona chart

Asteroid groom (5129) in the house

what is a groom persona chart? this chart exhibits qualities that your husband will have and possible placements that can be seen in their chart. it is simply a chart all about your spouse in a woman's chart. the asteroid groom can be identified using the code 5129.

So the asteroid groom within the gpc will indicate the overall feeling and overall summed up vibe that your spouse can be linked to. This can interpret what kind of husband he can be and how he may be after marriage.

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[before you read this post... i want you all to know how grateful i am for each and every one of you <33 i took a little break from posting but will hopefully be back and consistent and hopefully will finish this series quicker.]

{ALSOO.. if you like this series and would like to support a small creator, go and check out my readings here--> 🤍🤍🤍}

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Groom in 1st house: your future husband can be a real me person. Can really be self aware and just be a confident and bold. He can be a real star and know himself better than anyone else. he is someone that can have a short temper and can have bursts of anger from time to time. although, your spouse can be a very energetic and confident individual. depending on the sign, it can make him become selfish and mine mine mine. especially if in scorpio can tend to hide things that they own or buy and just may not share as much of important information with you like any other couple would do. your spouse can be quite demanding but will give back always. can be a very attractive individual, takes care of his appearance and for sure can spend time by himself emotionally. this does not mean that he will be totally absent but he may just need his own space to just breathe and think.

Groom in 2nd house: so your husband can be a very much material mann. someone who is literally not afraid to spend money on himself and you. depending on the sign especially Saturn aspected or Capricorn, can indicate hoarding so not wasting money neither on themselves and on you even if they have a lot. spouse can be a comfort person, someone who is there and will listen to you and they dont even need to speak a single word and you will feel as if they have helped you a ton. your spouse can be very protective of you physically wise, especially if in the sign of aries, they will be ready to throw hands on anybody who upsets you or just handles you very badly. can tend to be very gentle with you and be very patient with you whether if its when you are facing your problems or when you need time to figure something out hell be waiting there.

Groom in 3rd house: so your fs can be a strong communicator whether it’s him talking for hours and hours or him being a very good listener and a good companion to those who he is in conversation with. This is an indication of your spouse being chronically online whether it’s not that big of a deal, expect him to know everything that’s going on the internet. Since he may be of curious nature, best believe your spouse is the one to even search and do his research when something interesting comes up on his social media feed. He might even post a lot online too. he can form strong opinions and often tend to make up arguments out of the most silliest of things. he may require lots of attention from you and he may just crave the attention a lot of the times. on the other hand, he is someone who is intelligent, smart and very humble and a person that is comfortable to hang and be around with.

Groom in 4th house: spouse can be very traditional and by that i mean that your future spouse is the one who takes roles of the home very seriously. have a leafy faucet, he will take care of it, you try to fix a light bulb, uh uh uh nope, he is taking care of it that sort of thing. he feels like you already have so many responsibilities so let him take care of the handy ones. if groom is in the sign of taurus or virgo even cancer, they will almost be looking out for you and doing the services in prevention to you getting hurt. so they will be like no sit and rest. furthermore, your spouse can be very witty and love to be too comfortable towards you. sometime referred to as 'tmi'. he can share a bit too much information at times and you may have to just pause that for a second to realise what just happened. but that just means that he is very comfortable and trusting towards you.

Groom in 5th house: this placement gives me real childhood sweetheart vibes and i just love ittt. just imagine the one boy that you met on a summer holiday that you later meet in life and you're just like "wait..🤔i know you". so basically with this placement your spouse can be someone that brings out the most inner fun, exciting, adventurous, romantic person within you. he is someone that will laugh when you are crying, cry when you are laughing literally match your energy in any type of situations. this placement is a very peaceful yet chaotic vibe, it gives the sense of seeing no one as beautiful as you, seeing no one but you, laying eyes only on you. he is literally the ray of sunshine to the point that you may literally crave them, like you'll be at work or something and you just NEED to be near him or to be within his presence.

Groom in 6th house: your future spouse can be what you think a normal town guy looks like. not that its bad but he can be very natural and not have too much going on. can work a job that he has had for many years and be too afraid to move on from fear of not knowing what to expect and how it may turn out to be like. on the other note, he can be a very heart warming and positive guy, that tries to live his life to the fullest. he is someone to be the first when it comes to help people out, he finds warmth and comfort in achieving good deeds. this placement is actually very good for those who need someone that does their own thing and have their own responsibilities. they may not like to be tied down to something so maybe staying at home for too long is not his go to and so forth.

Groom in 7th house: ommggg this placement is the biggest definition of a charmer and a spouse that wants fair share of everything so literally his money is your money. may share on bill payments so he may have the rent and you maybe the electric and so forth. he is someone attractive to a lot of other people so can cause a lot of jealous people around you because they may be jealous of the man that you have and they may hate you for it. your spouse is soft spoken and tries to be positive at all times, he can appear to be someone from a Disney book, can be absolutely perfect in your eyes especially if venus is conjunct with groom. your future spouse can be very into beauty and aesthetics, so he may like your house to have a specific colour, design, sets of cutlery, and so forth.

Groom in 8th house: spouse is full of surprises, can be very mindful and very picky of the information that he wants you or other people to know. he is very careful of the words and actions that he does. depending on the sign, like for example if in capricorn, can be a very isolating individual that like to stay away from people, on the other side can have a secret income of money that you may not know about until later on in the relationship with him. another example would be if in pisces, can be an individual with a lot of mental blockages and a lot of mental baggage. this is not me diagnosing your future spouse, i am only stating what this COULD possibly mean because the whole chart should be taken into consideration. on the brighter side, he can be a very emotionally smart person, the one to understand what your feeling or even thinking without you needing to tell them anything. he can also be very emotionally encouraging and comforting individual. also a very highly indication of them only allowing certain people to view his true emotions, can often appear to be hard as a rock but inside could be different.

Groom in 9th house: your future spouse is most likely a genius and an individual with great wisdom. He is full of ideas and creative finds that sometimes has no place to put them into the world. He most likely is smarter than he looks or he is always doubted by his intelligence. This is a STRONGGG indication of your husband being a foreigner or you meeting them in foreign land. Depending on the sign this can tell us the details of how your spouse may reveal his intelligence by. So in Gemini, may talk in a very sophisticated way and can reveal his wisdom through his words and writing especially. He can be a unique and self taught writer whether it’s for work or for himself. If in Taurus for example, can reveal his wisdom through cooking and money making, he may be a very experimental chef and a great cook with a ton of knowledge on recipes. Another thing about this placement is that your spouse may travel a lot, may go on trips a lot and meet foreign people a lot as well. He definitely has good humour and is someone who is known for his attractive humour.

Groom in 10th house: your spouse is mr. worldwide business sugar daddy rich. 🤭no but fr he can be a very chill yet providing person. may not exaggerate as much but will go with the flow and follow your rules in a way. if the sign is in leo, capricorn or jupiter is involved this for sure can indicate a spouse with his bank full. very mature, can indicate an older spouse physically and mentally. perhaps a spouse that is like your mother figure or reminds you of your mother. he can be serious and can take things seriously too much of the time, unless in sagittarius. can be quite an introvert, awkward person but can be an attractive kind of awkward if ya know what i mean. your spouse is the man that gets stares from strangers when in public and literally all eyes on him. there is just something magnetic about him that pulls others to him.

Groom in 11th house: spouse can usually act inconsistently. Meaning that he is really unpredictable in any situation given. Spouse can be quite isolating and may spend time alone or just refuse to do anything with anyone. This isn’t all the time as someone with good aspects can have a spouse that is social, and great with their social life, but this house is rules by Saturn so there is some strictness, discipline and alone time that is a big part of your future spouses personality and overall being. he can be with his friends a lot of the time though, so maybe he can have friends over to the house a lot of the times or him going over to theirs and all. he may have a sense of equality and sense of achievement that he may want to pursue. your fs can have goals that he is eager to reach so slowly he may like to show off his interests in these things with you.

Groom in 12th house: spouse can be distant in a way after marriage. with that i mean that he can always be away somewhere, travelling for work etc. especially if for example in Sagittarius your husband can be away travelling overseas or simply if he is a foreigner can be away visiting family a lot of the times. spouse can become quite lazy in a sense, of course depending on the sign and aspects however with this placement your husband after marriage has this reaction of already having this milestone completed and they know in a sense that they are secure and safe and comfortable and thats why this can make them a bit lazy. furthermore, your husband can become more and more in love with you the more that he is with you. this may really be a very beautiful placement if in the sign of libra or venus is conjunct groom asteroid.

thats it for now, i hope you enjoyed this post and have a good rest of your day/evening/night <<33

#groom asteroid #groom persona chart #astrology chart #asteroid astrology #astrology #astrology community #astrology degrees #astrology observations #astro observations #astroblr #astro community #astro notes #astrology readings #astro placements #astrology signs

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