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sarawritestories · 9 months ago

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The Most Beautiful High Lady

Rhysand X Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: Its getting close to Starfall the second one since Rhysand has been home from Under the Mountain. You want to dress to impress him and go to a new dress shop in Velaris and shocks you by the visceral behavior and your High Lord, your mate, will not stand for it.

A/N : First things first I want every reader reading this: YOU ARE BEATUIFUL. Any person who is buying a dress or a suit or whatever for a big event like wedding etc. You should be able to feel beautiful and confident and not left feeling upset and self conscious. This is loosely based off the terrible experience myself and my bridesmaids had at a bridal store yesterday which had me reeling and It sparked this idea that Rhysand would never stand for anyone insulting his Female or any female for that matter.

Content Warnings: Body shaming, rude snide comments, skipping a meal, body insecurity, angst,

Word Count: 2.7 K

Masterlist

“Have you thought about losing a couple pounds?”

You blinked. And blinked again. “Excuse me?”

The consultant at the dress shop gave a saccharine smile, “Well we only have a small selection of sizes here and I just don’t think you’ll find a Starfall dress in your size. It would be cutting it close if we placed a special order.” She looked my body up and down, “I mean I just don’t believe we have what you will be looking for.”

You crossed my arms, “Can I at least make that decision for myself?”

She sighed and you didn’t miss her rolling her eyes. “I guess we can try a few dresses. It is the second Starfall with our High Lord home, best dress to impress. He is quite handsome.” She winked and you rolled your eyes, it wasn’t the first time someone had mentioned to you about your mate’s beauty but after the weight comment the mention of his beautiful perfect face stung.

You followed her to the back of the store hidden behind the show floor. The back of the store had poor lighting fae lights dimmed and was dingey. The dresses looked worn and tattered and forgotten and she grabbed a few off the rack, not regarding you to see if it was a style, you liked and herded you back to the back corner of the store. Another sickly smile graced the consultants face, “Let me know when you need help.”

You closed the curtain and tried on one of the dresses, that was a plain beige dress, that barely covered your thick thighs. You shrugged it off and grabbed the silver dress, and it did fit but it hugged you in all the wrong places accentuating your fuller stomach and your boobs were practically spilling out of the dress and once again shimmied the dress off. There was one final dress, a teal dress that had a high neckline and long sleeves and as you tried it on it fell on your body like a sack of vegetables. You walked out to find the female helping me to notice that she wasn’t there. You walked over to see her helping another client and fawning over her and one of the dresses.

Another consultant came up to you a younger woman who looked you once over and with a disinterested look, “Do you need me to clip you?”

You gave her a warm but distant smile, “If you wouldn’t mind.”

She herded you back into the corner, and clipped you, the dress was hideous, and didn’t accentuate your breast. “You may need a corset for this dress to not only slim you but also lift up your assets. Wouldn’t want them hanging down to your waist.” There was a pause, and the young female met your gaze through the mirror and noticed your mouth was agape and she huffed a chuckle playing it off at as a joke. Then she started fiddling with my hair, “You going to do anything with your hair for Starfall? I mean the High Lord is going to make an appearance. Might want to look your best.”

Clenching your jaw, you gave a tight lip smile and through your teeth, “I haven’t decided yet. Please unclip me.” The female did as you asked, and you rushed into the changing room and put on your regular clothes. Walking out, not bothering to thank them for the time you made your way home. You were not in that store for longer than twenty minutes and you walked away feeling confused and hurt and feeling self-conscious of the weight you had gained since Rhysand had come home. Did he feel a similar way to those women? It was hard to shake that thought as it wormed in my head as I reached the familiar path of my home.

Walking into the town home I heard the boisterous laugh of Cassian and Azriel in the dining room. I walked following their voices, the two were sharing a meal and Cassian caught my gaze, “Hi there, Sweetheart,” He patted a seat next to him and I made my way to sit next to him, “How was shopping? I kind of thought you would be gone longer,” two pair of hazel eyes on me.

I tried to tug down the dread from my early and gave the general a forced smile, “Shopping was fine, I went to one store and wasn’t really feeling shopping anymore.”

Cassian shrugged, kissed my cheek, and went back to his food meanwhile Azriel gaze was locked to yours. “Might as well join us in eating,”

Have you thought about losing a couple of pounds?

The consultant’s words rang in your ears, and you shook your head, “No thank you. I’m not hungry.”

Azriel squinted, “You didn’t eat breakfast though.” He crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair.

You tucked your lip in between your teeth before responding, “I ate before I went shopping.”

If Azriel caught your lie he didn’t let on and you were quick to stand up, “I’m going to spend the day working our room. I’ll see you at dinner.” You kissed Cassian’s cheek and walked over to kiss Azriel’s cheek. “Love you!”

As you walked up the stairs you heard the two say in unison, “Love you too!”

Once you’ve reached the room you sink to the floor, your head leaning against the wood. You unleashed your tears then. The anger, humiliation, the insecurity flowing through your body, and you tucked your legs close to you and buried your face in your knees as the tears turned into sobs. A single shadow swirling around the door going unnoticed by you and the wave of emotions crashing into you were being sent down to the bond that led straight to the High Lord of the Night Court.

When the sun went down, you pried yourself from the floor and you walked into the closet and removed all your clothes. It felt suffocating against your skin. You grabbed one of Rhys’ buttons up shirt his scent enveloping your nose and brought a wave of comfort. You were placing your hair in a hair pin when your ears heard the front door open and close and feet bounding up the stairs before the doors to your shared room slammed open causing you to jump.

His eyes met yours through the mirror, his hair was disheveled as if he ran his fingers through it multiple times, the stars were banked out of his eyes and his mouth was in a firm line, but he was quick to change it as he took in the fact that you were wearing his shirt your thick thighs causing the shirt to rise and the deep purple lace underwear peaked through and Rhys’ eyes darkened. “Hello, Darling.” He purred giving you a bright smile as he walked toward you. “How was your day?” His hands grazed your arms, and he kissed the top of your head. His scent of citrus and Jasmine overwhelmed you and you closed your eyes for a moment.

I opened my eyes You returned his grin, “It was lovely, got some shopping done, at some good food, missed you though.” His smile faltered as if you said the wrong thing. “What?”

“Darling, I felt your anger and hurt through the bond. Azriel told me that you’ve been crying in here for hours, and that you skipped two meals. I was hoping you would just tell me what happened.” You sighed and walked over to the large window overlooking Velaris crossing your arms. “Y/N, talk to me.”

You were shaking your head. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Rhys returned your sigh with one of his own and got up and removed his shirt and he walked up to you.

“Will you show me?” You turned to see his tanned face to find his violet eyes meeting yours, he cups your cheek his thumb stroking the apples of them.

After a moment of debating with yourself you give him a curt nod and you can feel his talon caress your mental shields. You open that spot just for him and relive the interaction earlier in the day. The snide comments, the dirty looks, the dresses that were pulled that made you feel large and not worthy of your mate. Rhys pulled away from your mind and you looked back out at window. “Those dressmakers came from the Autumn court. They fled the Autumn court they didn’t say why.” His voice was dark and cold, a voice he reserved for the Court of Nightmares.

You shrugged and willed yourself not to cry. “They kept bringing up how I should look my best for you. How just on the off chance that you would give me the time of day.” You hated the way your voice cracked, how it took no longer than 30 minutes to make you feel not worthy of your mate whom you have known for over a century.

“Why didn’t you tell them exactly who you were to me?” he swiped at the tears that were falling despite you willing them away.

“I was so taken a back by the time I left and processed what a happened I had long left the store. Are you ashamed of me?” His brows furrowed, and you spoke into his mind Am I worthy of being your mate?

He clenched his jaw, “Any person who makes you question the cauldron on giving me to you as your mate deserves to be kicked out of my territory.” You were about to walk away when his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you where your back was pressed against his chest your head resting on his shoulder. “You are my mate. You are perfect for me. You are worthy of the title of my mate.” He began kissing down your neck, “You are worthy of the title of my wife.” His hands trailed up the shirt and unbuttoning until the shirt slides of your shoulder. “You are worthy of the title of High Lady.”

You stiffened and he chuckled as he sucked on your shoulder, “There has never been a High Lady,” You moaned out as his hand fondled your clothed breast.

“There will be. Soon. And those women will be dealt with,” He lifts his head and grips your chin turning you to face him. “But first, I will be reminding my wife just how much I love her.” He kissed you as his love was sent down the bond to you and he lifted you up and took you to bed.

~The Next Day~

Rhysand had linked your arm with his as you walked into the same boutique that you went to the day before, and the energy shifted. The consultant who had asked you if you thought about losing weight came up to the two of you. She bowed, “High Lord, what a pleasure to have you in our store.” She looked over at me, and she gave me a warm smile, probably not remembering me from the day before.

Rhys smiled though it did not reach his eyes, “Believe me, the pleasure is mine,” Rhys shifted his arm so that it can snake around your waist his thumb stroking the violet Cheffron. The floor length dress hugged your every curve and accentuated your breast to send a clear message on how to dress your body type. “We are looking for a dress, for coronation of the High Lady of the Night Court.”

She smiled at him, not regarding you, “Of course, would her lady in waiting know her measurements.”

You clench your jaw to prevent it from falling to the floor. The audacity of this woman. Rhys laugh echoed in my brain, as his smile turned more sinister, “The High Lady to be can tell you herself.” His eyes met mine, “Darling, any dress for your big day.” He gave you a kiss on your nose eliciting a full-blown grin on you face.

In your head he purrs, Give him hell, my love. Her face is priceless.

“If it’s alright with you I would like to look around.” You gave her my sweetest smile.

The woman tight lip nodded to her, “Of course, let me show you our top designers.” I held out my hand and Rhys laced his fingers with yours and you both made a show of walking around and looking at all the dresses. The consultants are tailing the two of you hoping you will pick a dress for a big event. “We have styles made for queens here so we can definitely find one for our High Lady.”

You hum in acknowledgement as you look around touching the different fabrics. You turn to your mate mischief was in his eyes and the stars in them twinkled. “My Love, these dresses look cheap.”

Rhys tsked and you’re trying really hard to suppress your giggle. “A shame. I was hoping that we were getting the Autumn Court’s finest. Its alright, we’ll go to our usual boutique they love making dresses for your gorgeous figure any way.” He leans in and whispers loudly, “As about much as I enjoy your figure nude.” Heat crept up your face as he winked at you. You are so beautiful when you are flustered.

Shut up.

As you wish my High Lady.

The woman made another attempt, “High Lord, I assure you that we do not have cheap dresses.”

You turned to her with all humor and lightness left your face. “Perhaps not, but the ugly attitude and awful service I received yesterday definitely cheapens the place.”

Realization dawns on her, “Oh my I remember you. I am so sorry. Had I known who-“

You held up your hand, “It shouldn’t have fucking mattered. I was a client who wanted to shop here, spend my money here. I was discarded and pushed in the corner as though you were embarrassed to have me in your store wanting to buy your clothes. I was not here for very long and in that short period of time you made me feel worthless, ugly, and not worth my mate’s time. If you did that with me, what are you do to others who look different than you. Do better. Because as of now this establishment reports back to me and I get one word from someone about how poor your service is, I will be sending you back to the Autumn court. Consider this my first act as High Lady. Are we clear?”

The woman nodded the group of consultants too nodded their head. “Yes, High Lady.”

You nod, and turned toward Rhys who shimmered Pride down the bond. “Rhys, let’s go I’m starving.”

Rhys smiled and kissed your hand, “Anything for my High Lady.” He led you out, pausing he walked back in and the women perked up. “Make my Mate feel less than the amazing woman she is, I will send you to the Court of Nightmares and feed you to the beast.” His smile was sinister as his eyes darkened. “Understand.”

The women said in unison, “Yes High Lord.” He nodded and walked backed out and saw you embracing the midday sun, your side profile showing your luscious curves that made his mouth water and the sun hit you perfectly making you look like a goddess.

“How did I get so luck to have the Most Beautiful High Lady in Prythian?” He kissed you with his hand gripping the back of your neck. And he pressed his forehead against yours. Gripping your hip and lacing your hand in his pulling you close. He began to sway you two even with no music playing.

You are the only person I know who would make me High Lady after worshiping my body just to prove a point to a disgruntled business owner.

He chuckled, Darling, you were going to be High Lady at Starfall. That was my surprise for you. You just sped up the timeline.”

You stared in his eyes, “I love you, Rhys.”

He kissed your forehead, “I love you most. My beautiful High Lady.” And the two of you proceeded to sway for an hour with no music, just the sound of their steady heartbeats.

~Thanks for reading!

#rhysand acotar #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #acotar fanfiction #acotar series #acotar #rhysand fluff #rhys x reader #acotar fluff #Rhysand x plus size reader #plus size reader

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joelscurls · 1 year ago

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to the ends of the earth

pt ii of feel it in your bones | epilogue

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 12k

summary: You spend the week of Spring Break in Austin with your long-distance-boyfriend Joel. As you settle into a comfortable routine together, questions regarding your future arise.

warnings: 18+, minors dni, no outbreak, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), fluff, angst (ik ik i’m sorry), smut, phone sex, masturbation (f, m), semi-public touching, unprotected p in v, squirting, creampie, soft dom!Joel, hair pulling, tiniest bit of nipple play, implied oral (f receiving), brief mention of shower sex, use of pet names (darlin’, baby, etc.)

a/n: i’m honestly so overwhelmed with all the positive feedback I got on part 1 - thank you all so much! there will be a part 3 in the form of a lil epilogue, so stay tuned for more of these two! as always, ty to @caffeinated-validation for giving this your eyes <3

Long distance sucks.

It’s been six months to the day since Homecoming Weekend, five since you and Joel put a label on things: “exclusive”. Not like you’d been talking to anyone else. Since Joel left Vermont that first time, he’d occupied your mind, made a home there, nestled deep between grooves of soft brain matter.

He’s been back a couple of times since. Quick weekend trips — much like the first one — just without the bad art and couch surfing. And each time he’s come and gone has been more painful than the last. More memories to reminisce on when you lay in bed alone. More words exchanged to drown in. You feel as if your heart has been ripped apart and stitched haphazardly back together every time he slips from your embrace.

The last time you’d seen him in person was New Year’s, when you’d rented a cabin in the Green Mountains, watched Joel react to his first snow, exchanged I love yous for the first time under falling flurries.

It feels now as if it were a lifetime ago.

It’s never enough — time, kisses, touches. It’s all so fleeting. You want, more than anything, to burrow into Joel’s chest and make a permanent residence there. To go with him where he goes, be with him where he is, always.

But you know you can’t — it’s not realistic. You have your life here, and Joel has his there. You remind yourself of this fact more times a day than you’d like to admit.

You will be with him again soon enough, though, and for the longest stint of time yet. An entire week in Texas, you and Joel.

The thought of it keeps you going in the leadup to spring break.

It’s the night before your flight, an early-morning departure from Burlington International Airport. You’ve waited until the last minute to pack, so here you are, hovering above your suitcase — which lays sprawled out on your bed — aimlessly throwing pairs of underwear and t-shirts into the main compartment.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. A much welcomed distraction.

And then you notice that it’s Joel calling.

Your heart skips a beat. You answer. Put it on speaker-phone.

“Hello?,” you purr, flopping down on the small empty space on the bed.

“Hi baby,” he drawls, his voice so sweet and saccharine it makes you melt. “All packed?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “I’m ready.”

“Me too,” he says. “So ready. I miss you.”

“I miss you,” you parrot. “How was your day?”

He sighs. “Fine, I guess. Had a bunch’a loose ends to tie up at this site before Tommy takes over for the week. A lot’a back and forth on the phone, orderin’ shit.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I hope you won’t be stressed all week thinking about it.”

He hums, so deep it vibrates through the phone. It goes straight to your core. “Impossible, babygirl. Once I have you here, ‘m not gonna be thinkin’ ‘bout anything else.”

Your face heats. An unignorable pang of desire swells in your chest.

“Joel,” you say, desperation already coloring your voice.

“Yeah?”

“I need you.”

Phone sex has become somewhat of a norm for you and Joel, that overwhelming need to be close to one another manifesting as desperate touches of your own fingers and half-coherent pleas through the speaker. It’s rare that a bedtime conversation between the two of you doesn’t end in panting down the line, telling each other goodnight through labored, satiated breaths.

Tonight, your need for him is bordering on carnal, carving into your skin like a sharp blade. You know you’ll have him tomorrow, and a number of days after that, but still, it feels so intangible, unreal. Like you can’t let yourself fully believe it until he’s in your arms.

And so you need him — right now — in any way you can have him.

“You wanna touch yourself?”

“Yes Joel — please.”

“Fuck babygirl,” he breathes. “Okay. Lemme take care’a you.”

You slip your fingers under the waistband of your sweatpants impatiently. You feel yourself through the thin fabric of your panties and, unsurprisingly, you’re soaked. It’s like you’ve been pavloved — like all you need is the sound of Joel’s voice, soft and deep like crushed velvet, and you’re gone — every single time.

“I’m so wet,” you mewl.

Joel groans on the other end. He sounds almost pained, like not being there to feel you, to taste you, is physically hurting him. If it is though, he covers it up well, snapping his attention back to you like a reflex.

“You still got your pants on?,” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Take ‘em off for me. And your panties.”

You do as he says, pulling your sweatpants and underwear down in one tug, letting them bunch at your ankles.

“They’re off,” you say.

“Good. Now touch yourself baby, go ahead.”

You shallowly dip two fingers into the pool of arousal that’s formed between your thighs. Then you glide slick digits over your aching clit, back and forth, a quiet whimper slipping from your mouth.

“‘ts it, darlin’,” he coos, “rub that pretty pussy for me.”

You pretend your fingers are his — bigger, rougher — as you increase the pressure you’re applying and begin to rub tight circles against your clit. The thought of your touches being his, instead, leaves you failing to swallow back a moan.

“Joel – ngh – it feels good.”

“‘Good, baby,” he says. “Doin’ so good for me.”

You keep going, your breaths becoming increasingly uneven, your hips inadvertently canting off the bed in an attempt to create more friction. You can sense that you’re dripping onto the duvet below you, staining it with your arousal. You’re way past caring at this point — you just need to cum.

You bring your other hand between your thighs, teasing your entrance. You sigh when you find how much wetter you’ve gotten in just a few minutes. You’re sure Joel must be able to hear the lewd slickslickslick of your fingers swirling against your sopping cunt — which he confirms when he curses under his breath.

“Fuck; that all for me, darlin’?”

“Mhm,” you moan.

“Gonna fuck yourself with your fingers for me? Cum all over ‘em, imaginin’ it’s my cock, instead?”

“Yes,” you cry. “Please, Joel, need your cock so bad.”

“I know babygirl, I know.”

You push two fingers inside as deep as you can get them, crooking them against your walls until you find that spongy spot. You fuck yourself in time with the fingers rubbing your clit, your pace reflexively increasing when you start to feel that familiar warmth growing in your abdomen.

You feel it build, up up up — and then it falls, fading completely.

“Fuck,” you murmur.

You don’t relent. But again and again, even with the perfect amount of pressure applied to your clit and the fingers in your pussy curved just right, you find your orgasm just out of reach. You let out a frustrated whine, your movements stalling completely. You can’t get there, not like this, not alone.

“Joel,” you punch out, “need you to touch yourself. Need you to cum with me.”

He inhales a sharp breath through his teeth. “Fuck, sweetheart — okay.”

You hear a faint clink of his belt on the other side of the phone, followed by the telltale whir of a zipper. There’s rustling over the line. When you hear him sigh, you know his cock is in his hand. And then there’s a shift in his breathing, subtle, but enough that you pick up on it. Evidence that he’s started stroking himself.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Miss that perfect little cunt so bad, baby. Can’t wait to fuck you again. Gonna ruin you.”

You love when he talks to you like this — when he loses himself in it and his tongue works faster than his brain. You’d never imagined when you first met him, reserved, quiet Joel, that he could be so filthy.

“Tell me —“ you plead — “tell me how you’re gonna fuck me, Joel.”

“Fuck, gonna get you in my bed, burry my face between your legs until you’re beggin’ me to stop…”

“Shit,” you gasp, your fingers stuttering at his words.

“‘N then ’m gonna fill you up with this cock, make you go dumb on it, fuck you so good your eyes roll back in your head.”

You whimper. You know he’s not just all talk from experience, and the thought of him fulfilling all these promises so soon has you plummeting toward the brink. As long as he keeps going, keeps talking, you’re not going to last another minute.

“Gonna make you soak it, make you cum all over my fuckin’ cock. Fuck — swear ’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

You feel your orgasm approaching again. But it’s not waning, not this time. You chase it, letting Joel’s words run on a loop in your head: gonna fill you up with this cock, gonna make you feel so good, bury my face between your legs until you’re beggin’, gonna make you go dumb on it, gonna make you feel so good, so good, so good…

“So close Joel,” you breathe. “So fucking close.”

“‘ts it, darlin’”, he says, his voice strained. “‘m right behind you — shit — let me hear you cum. Wanna — ahh — wanna hear you.”

That’s all it takes, just his encouragement, and you’re cumming so hard the room spins.

You can faintly register Joel talking you through it, able to make out a string of good girls through ringing ears. When you finally start to come down, you can tell he’s nearing his own climax, panting down the line as your own breaths begin to even.

“Please Joel,” you beg. “Please cum for me.”

He lets out a low growl, and then your name is spilling from the tip of his tongue, over and over again, in between strangled moans.

The line is quiet for a moment, apart from you and Joel’s shallow breathing.

“Fuck,” he says when he’s recovered from his orgasm, “how many hours til you get here?

You laugh. “I don’t know — too many.”

“Yeah, too many,” he agrees.

There’s another lull. You yawn exasperatedly, only now realizing how exhausted you are. An earth shattering orgasm will do that to you, you guess.

Joel chuckles on the other end.

“Go to bed, baby. It’ll make the time go faster.”

You sigh. You don’t want to hang up. Don’t want to be without him again. But he’s right. He usually is — though you’d never admit it out loud.

“Yeah, okay,” you acquiesce after a moment.

“I love you,” he hums.

“I love you too, Joel.”

“Can’t wait to see you,” he adds.

You smile. You’re glad he can’t see you right now, can’t see how ridiculously giddy he makes you.

“Me either,” you say. “Goodnight.”

“Night, darlin’.”

You’re still grinning like an idiot when you hang up the phone. You lay there for a few minutes, just staring at the ceiling, willing time to move faster.

Eventually you peel yourself off the bed and finish packing. You throw in some lacy bras you know Joel will love — if you end up wearing any real clothes this week, that is. Then you zip your suitcase shut, toss it onto the floor somewhere, and slip under the covers.

You flick your bedside lamp off with a sigh, and begin your attempt to coax sleep. You are tired, but you’re more excited.

When you finally do drift off — at some ungodly hour of the morning — you dream of Joel, of his large arms wrapped around you, his honeyed voice in your ear. Tomorrow, he whispers, again and again. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

You wake up the next morning with butterflies the size of baseballs in your stomach. You get to the airport unnecessarily early, make it through security in record time, and plant yourself down at your gate with a coffee in hand two hours before your scheduled departure.

Your body is practically vibrating in your seat, only partially due to the caffeine. Joel will no doubt still be asleep at this hour, so you shoot him a text to wake up to:

at the airport, all checked in. can’t wait to see you, cowboy <3

And then you send one to Sarah, who you know will be awake, her study-abroad trip to Cambodia meaning she’s probably studying or eating dinner right now.

On my way to see your dad; miss you! Can’t wait to hear all about your studies sometime soon :)

She almost immediately responds:

Yay! Miss you both so much! Yes, talk soon pls - lots to catch you up on. The professors here want me to stay forever (I won’t, dw, need to be able to bother you and my dad on a more regular basis).

You laugh to yourself.

Sarah had been thrilled when she’d found out about your relationship. Had been way too proud of herself for setting you up. When you’d learned she’d faked sick the night you met Joel at the art exhibition, you’d found yourself unable to feign disapproval. How could you care, really, when you’d ended the night straddling him, kissing him?

Not that you’d told her that, of course. She didn’t need to know every detail of that weekend.

It had been…interesting, to say the least, navigating a long-distance-something with the father of one of your students. But Sarah hadn’t pried, even when you’d suspected she wanted to. She’d let it bloom into something more, something real, before beginning to pester you with the questions: isn’t he the worst cook? do you think you guys will get married? can I be your maid of honor if you do?

To which you’d responded: yes (affectionately), I don’t know, and of course you can.

You’ll miss her this week, but another part of you — a more selfish part — is thrilled to have a week alone with Joel, without any distractions.

So thrilled, you can barely steady your shaking hands enough to plug your phone into the outlet under your seat.

You scroll mindlessly on social media as it charges until it’s time to board. Then you’re shuffling single-file down the aisle of the plane to your row, hauling your suitcase into the overhead, and taking your seat next to the window.

It’s your first flight of two, separated by a three-hour layover. You make it to Philadelphia in just over an hour, halfway through the cheesy 2000s rom-com you’d selected on the inflight entertainment screen. You make a mental note to finish it on the next leg.

You get lunch once you’ve tracked down your new gate — pay seventeen bucks for a soggy airport sandwich and a bag of chips that, upon opening, is mostly air. When you sit down to eat, you notice that Joel texted you back.

Got one foot out the front door already. Can’t wait to see you babygirl.

You can’t help the embarrassing smile that pulls across your face.

You re-read the text no less than ten times before you board your next flight — then once more for good measure just before you put your phone on airplane-mode and shove it in your sweatshirt pocket.

This is it, you think as the wheels lift off the ground and the clouds come closer into view. No more countdown. It’s here.

You have to refrain from sprinting off of the plane as soon as it’s landed in Austin.

You grab your suitcase from the overhead with reckless abandon, nearly knocking another piece of luggage out of the compartment and onto a passing flight attendant.

“Shit, sorry,” you curse.

She glares at you, unamused.

“I’m just…I’m meeting someone here,” you ramble. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention. Too excited.”

She nods. Pops her gum. “Mhm. Have a good day, ma’am. Thanks for flying with us.”

You keep your head down as you disembark.

It’d been a packed flight, and so you find yourself weaving through the crowd that’s gathered at the gate as you exit, around parents who have stopped to tie their kids’ shoes and solo travelers pausing to book their ride shares.

You check your phone as you walk, unwilling to waste even a fraction of a second. Find the directions buried in the text thread between you and Joel detailing how to get from your terminal to the passenger pickup area.

You follow them, suitcase rolling behind you as you trudge along, down a couple escalators and through a corridor.

You round one last corner — and then you see him, standing with his back to a pillar, hands anxiously fiddling at his sides.

Now you are sprinting.

Your suitcase is abandoned somewhere behind you as you run toward Joel. He doesn’t see you at first. You make it a few feet, shoes squeaking on tile, before his head snaps up and his eyes catch yours. And then he’s bounding forward, meeting you in the middle, your bodies colliding, hard.

He throws both arms around you, squeezes you so tightly you think your blood vessels may burst. You accept your fate willingly, breathing him in, letting your hands rove along his broad back.

He smells like pine and worn leather and Joel.

He feels like home.

He bruises a kiss in your hair, whispering against your scalp in disbelief: baby, you’re here.

You stand wrapped up together for a long moment, Joel rocking you back and forth as you catch your breath. Then you pull apart to look at each other.

Only then does it begin to sink in — Joel is right in front of you, touching you — and you’re about to spend a whole week together.

“C’mere,” he drawls, grabbing both sides of your face and crashing his lips into yours. It’s a slow kiss, punctuated by gentle strokes of his fingertips along your jaw. Your tongue rolls against his and your fingers anchor into his shirt collar. It simultaneously feels like it lasts forever and not nearly long enough.

“C’mon,” he whispers against your lips when you part. “Let’s go home, darlin.”

You grab your forgotten suitcase and pull it behind you with one hand, the other in Joel’s as you walk to his truck. It’s parked just outside, at the curb, hazard lights blinking.

“Was supposed to wait here for you,” he explains as he opens the passenger door, helping you in. He takes your suitcase, throws it onto the backseat like it weighs nothing.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you smile as he gets into the driver’s seat. “Felt like a rom-com — I liked it.”

“Yeah,” he says, turning his key in the ignition. His cheeks flush. “I liked it too.”

You stop for fast food on the way to Joel’s — Whataburger, naturally. They don’t have these in Vermont, so you try to savor your burger, but your long day of travel has you ravenous, so you wolf it down, ketchup smearing on the corners of your mouth between bites. Joel just laughs at you from the driver’s seat, piece of lettuce lodged between his front teeth.

You get it for him — fingernails prodding at his gums, but he lets you. Even sighs at the contact. When you flick the leaf off your fingertip, he pulls you in for a kiss, much softer than the one you shared in the airport, but dizzying, nonetheless. “Better?,” he whispers, and you’re not sure if he’s asking about his teeth or you, but both are true, so you hum affirmingly.

You sink back into your seat, adjusting your seatbelt where it’s tightened around your neck.

You feel full and drowsy as you throw your trash into the paper bag the food came in, tucking it by your feet.

You let your head rest against the window. The glass rattles against your skull as the truck begins to move, but you ignore it, too tired to care. And then you let your eyes shut — just to rest them — that’s all.

You don’t remember falling asleep.

You come to when you feel Joel at your side, trying to move you from the passenger seat.

“Baby,” you hear him say. Your eyes flutter open. He brings a hand up to your face, peeling stray strands of hair from where they’re stuck to your forehead and pushing them behind your ear.

“We’re home,” he drawls. “Let’s go inside, yeah?”

You nod groggily, still letting your eyes adjust to the daylight. You take in your surroundings: you’re parked in his driveway, his house right in front of you. Somehow, it’s just as you’d imagined it to be — big, sprawling porch at the front, meticulously kempt yard ornamented with a beautiful red oak tree. It’s so Texan, you think, so Joel.

He grabs your luggage from the truck. Then he helps you out, walks you with a large hand wrapped around your middle to the front door and into the house. Once inside, he sets your suitcase down.

And then he hugs you again, like he’s afraid to let you out of his embrace, lest you vaporize into thin air.

“Still tired? Wanna take a nap?,” he asks.

You yawn, right in his ear. He laughs; that’s enough of an answer.

“Alright,” he says. You follow him to his bedroom, too sleepy to argue. You pass through the kitchen and living room on the way. Through drooping eyes, you notice scattered pieces of Joel — the guitar leaning against its stand next to the couch, the pictures of him and Sarah lining the staircase. It makes your chest tighten, being here in his house, seeing the parts of him that he can’t bring with him when he visits you.

His room is the most him though — masculine and minimalist. A canvas with a ram painted on it hangs above his bed — a gift from someone, you assume. You can’t exactly imagine Joel strolling the aisles of Target, picking out artwork to hang in his house. There’s another photo of him and Sarah on his bedside table that must’ve been taken at her highschool graduation, cap adorning her head full of curls.

It makes you smile — all of it.

You lope over to the bed, climbing in when Joel pulls back the covers for you. He tucks you in with a kiss to your forehead. His duvet wafts his scent, when you pull it up to your face. You inhale it deeply. Commit it to memory.

“Wait,” you say as he turns to leave the room. “Aren’t you going to stay with me?”

He leans against the doorframe, wood creaking under his weight. “Well I don’t really nap, darlin’,” he admits. “You get some rest, I’ll just be doin’ some stuff around the house.”

“Please,” you say, sticking out your bottom lip at him. You watch as he thinks on it for a minute, then sighs in defeat.

“Okay, I’ll nap with you baby.”

He climbs in next to you. “Only for a little bit, though,” he mumbles, like he’s trying to convince himself.

His broad chest presses into your back. He drapes an arm over your side as you nuzzle into his embrace, so warm, so safe. He noses at your neck, leaving gentle kisses along your exposed shoulder. This, you think, is what heaven must feel like.

The sound of Joel’s breathing lulls you to sleep.

When you wake up, the room is cast in shadows. It’s dusk, you realize, wiping the sleep out of your eyes. You roll over. Find that Joel is no longer next to you.

His side of the bed is still warm, you notice, so he must not have gotten up too long ago.

You clamber to your feet, ignoring the blood rushing to your head as you stumble out of his room. You make your way down the stairs, hand braced against the wall as you descend. The lights are on in the living room — a sign of life. But Joel isn’t there.

You wander into the kitchen. He’s not here either. Did he leave the house? You look around for a note, fish your phone out of your pocket to see if he texted you. But you have zero notifications and the dining table is empty, apart from a pair of salt & pepper shakers and a napkin holder.

You call out for him, to no avail. Stumped, you make your way to the door that leads to the garage, the only room you haven’t checked yet, and wedge it open.

To your surprise, you find Joel standing at the back of his truck, loading something into the bed. Upon further inspection, you see that it’s blankets.

Huh?

“Hey,” you announce, making your way down the small set of stairs. He whips around at the sound of your voice. The color in his face drains, like he’s just been caught in the act of something.

“Darlin’,” he says, eyes wide. “You’re up.”

You join him by the truck. Let him rest a heavy arm on your shoulder. You peer up at him with a quirked brow. “What are you doing out here?”

“Well, I uh, I had planned somethin’ for you. Not sure if you’re up for it?”

You look back at the blankets in the truck bed. It’s not just blankets, you discover. There are pillows too, big ones, like the kinds you put on patio furniture, plus a small radio situated in the corner. And there’s a bag of chips leaned up against one of the pillows, next to a box of your favorite candy.

“A picnic… in your truck?”

He laughs. “Not quite. There’s a drive-in movie theater down the road. Thought we could go.”

Those butterflies from this morning suddenly return, swarming your insides at the realization — Joel planned a date for you.

It’s not that he isn’t normally romantic, because he is.

You recall one particular weekend he’d visited — he’d insisted on cooking dinner for you at your apartment, determined to make it perfect for you. He’d ended up burning the chicken and oversalting his sauce, but you hadn’t cared one bit — not when he’d gazed at you so adoringly across the candlelit table, one of your hands in his as he’d peppered each of your knuckles with kisses.

On another visit, he’d scouted one of the only nearby mountains you hadn’t hiked yet and climbed to the top with you — because the internet said this was the best spot to catch the sunset. You’d stood at the lookout, hand in hand, and shared your greatest dreams — yours to have your research published in a major publication, his to leave contracting behind and buy a sheep ranch. And when the sun had dipped behind the horizon, the sky bleeding vibrant pinks and oranges, he’d just looked at you.

So you know he’s romantic. Still though, you’re practically swooning at the scene in front of you.

“So, you wanna go?,” he asks. He scuffs his boot along the concrete floor, awkwardly. “It’s okay if you d-“

“Joel,” you say. “I wanna go.”

He smiles. Rolls the cover over the truck bed. Presses a kiss to your temple.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

The sky is dark by the time you get to the drive-in. There are already quite a few cars in the dirt lot, parked in neat rows facing the giant movie screen that sits at the edge of a treeline. There’s a person directing traffic, a teenage boy, you guess, based on his stature, and he twirls his light-up batons in the rearview as Joel rounds the corner to the back row.

He backs into a spot at the far-left, car to your right parked a good ten feet away. And then he cuts the ignition with a quiet grunt, steps out, and makes his way over to your door to open it for you and help you down.

The pillows in the truck bed had jostled around a bit on the drive over, Joel finds when he unfurls the cover. So he adjusts them, making sure everything is just right. Then he unlatches the tailgate and helps you hoist yourself up, following closely behind you as you crawl toward the back.

Once he’s set the radio to the right channel, Joel sits with his back flush to the truck cab and spreads his legs, patting one of his thighs in invitation. He doesn’t need to ask twice — you immediately crawl between them, letting your head fall back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you, enveloping you in him.

A satisfied hum escapes your lips. The realization hits you then that you hadn’t even asked what movie you were seeing. Not that you care much — it could be a documentary about grass, and you’d still have a good time, thanks to the company.

It’s some dystopian sci-fi thriller, you find, as the opening credits begin to roll, with a title you vaguely remember hearing in passing at some point.

And it’s good. You’re invested in the story by the end of the first act, curious to find out how the main character is going to save her love interest.

But then you lose interest, quickly, when you feel the white-hot touch of Joel’s fingers against your skin as he slips them under your shirt, inching down your stomach.

He halts when he gets to the waistband of your jeans, and your breath hitches, lodged somewhere in your throat when he dips one finger under the denim. Your hips lift reflexively and he laughs lowly in your ear, prompting a shaky exhale to sputter out of you.

“Stay still, darlin,” he whispers, slipping another finger into your pants.

You try, you really try not to move, but he’s teasing you, his fingers moving the pace of molasses toward your core, where he hasn’t touched you in months. You feel like your entire body is going to combust if he doesn’t make contact with your clit in the next five seconds.

You whine, quiet enough that it’s muffled by the sounds of the movie echoing from the radio, but still too loud for Joel, apparently. He reaches his free hand out to turn the volume up, pushing the nob a few decibels higher.

He returns his attention to you. “You want this, babygirl?,” he asks, fingers reaching the hem of your underwear.

“Yes,” you whisper pleadingly. “Please touch me, Joel.” You feel his cock stiffen behind you, prodding your back.

“Okay,” he says. He pulls his hand out completely to unbutton your pants and unzip them halfway. Then he’s cupping your sex through your panties, letting his fingers brush over the wet spot that has already formed.

“Gotta be quiet then,” he purrs. “Can ya do that for me?”

You’re not sure you can, to be honest. He’s barely touching you and you already feel like you’ve lost all control over your body. Whatever it does, however you react — you have no say in the matter. Still, you’re not about to tell him that, risk him stopping, so you nod, furiously, your desperate face illuminated by the flashing light of an action sequence playing out on screen.

He dips two fingers into your underwear, immediately pressing them to your seam. He curses under his breath behind you, clearly pleased with how wet you are for him, with how easily he breaks you down. He brings them up to your clit, then, swiping back and forth, back and forth, his calloused touch forcing you to suppress a yelp. His fingers feel so rough compared to yours, so good. Breaths are pouring out of you in quick succession, your chest heaving with pleasure.

You’re briefly paranoid as Joel continues his ministrations that someone might see — but as you glance around the parking lot, you realize that you can’t see anyone else, just shadows in cars and on folding chairs, all focused on the movie in front of them. Slouched within the walls of Joel’s truck bed, it’s impossible for anyone to clock what’s happening.

So you let your body relax, melting into Joel behind you, your hands clinging onto his thighs to hold yourself steady. “‘ts it baby,” he says, your pliancy encouraging him to press his fingers down harder. “Always so good for me, huh?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, your voice still hushed.

“Yeah, you are” he agrees, rubbing your clit faster, more deliberately. He knows by now just how to touch you — exactly how to bring you straight to the edge and send you toppling over. And it’s clear that time apart hasn’t affected this in the slightest, your abdomen already tensing, familiar coil tightening threateningly in your core.

You warn Joel with a squeal. His free hand flies up to your face, covering your mouth in an instant. Your eyes roll back instinctively at the lewdness of it, of him muffling you with his palm. You moan freely against it, teeth scraping the skin there as your orgasm grows nearer and nearer and nearer.

It hits you hard. You have to bite down on Joel’s hand to keep from screaming out as it scorches through you, heating every inch of your skin as it does. Your fingernails are digging into Joel’s legs so hard you think you may be drawing blood even through thick denim. He talks you through it, quietly, his utters of atta girl, look at you, ya cum so pretty for me baby keeping you tethered to reality.

When your breathing begins to even and the trembling in your thighs subsides, he removes his hand from your mouth and the other from your pants.

You gaze up at him through bleary eyes just as he brings the fingers that were pressed against your pussy straight to his mouth, sucking on them through a satisfied hum. He pulls them out slowly, and your body nearly buckles at the sight.

“Taste so sweet,” he whispers in your ear. “Always taste so goddamn sweet.”

Your head swims.

“Joel,” you say, pointedly.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“We need to leave. Right now.”

He cocks his head at you, confused. “Are you alr-”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off. “But I need you to fuck me right now, and I don’t think we can do that here.”

You see his eyes darken, his jaw twitch.

“Yeah,” he says after a few seconds. “Let’s get out of here.”

Joel speeds the entire way home.

The hand he doesn’t have on the wheel grips your thigh, making you dizzy with desire by the time he pulls into the driveway. He lodges the passenger side door open so hard you’d think there was an emergency (maybe needing to fuck your significant other after months of not seeing them in person does constitute as an emergency, though — who’s to say?).

He unbuckles your seatbelt for you, barely letting your feet hit the pavement before his lips are on you and he’s slamming the truck door shut, caging you against it. It feels like he’s everywhere all at once, his tongue sliding along your jaw, down your neck, across your collarbone. You’re panting by the time he pulls back, begging him in not so many words to bring you inside and pound you into the mattress.

It must take you five whole minutes to get from the front door to his room. Joel’s hand is splayed across the globe of your ass as you walk. He stops you every ten feet to spin your around and kiss you again, sucking on your tongue, needy moans slipping from his parted lips. His shirt has been discarded by the time you get to the stairs, and your hands greedily take in every inch of skin they can reach as you make your way up step by agonizing step.

When you finally make it upstairs, he backs you through the threshold, straight to his bed. You tumble down onto the mattress in a heap, mouths melding together in desperation as he reaches a hand behind you, under your shirt, and unclasps your bra. You help him out, reaching up your sleeve to tug down one strap, then shifting your weight to pull down the other. When you move, he follows you, not letting his mouth part from yours a second sooner than it needs to.

He tugs the bra the rest of the way off your body and pulls your shirt up over your chest, revealing your bare breasts. Only then does he unlatch his lips from yours so that he can admire you.

“More gorgeous every time I see you,” he mutters, rolling one of your nipples between two fingers until it hardens under his touch. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. He leans down, lathing his flat tongue over the sensitive peak, eliciting a heady moan from you.

“Joel,” you cry beneath him, a hand coming up to his shoulder. You push against him lightly.

And he gets it — as much as he loves teasing, now is not the time. You’ve been teased enough by the miles between you and him. So he pulls back. Lets you roll him over. You straddle him, bracing your hands on his chest and experimentally roll your hips. You immediately feel his hard cock straining against his jeans underneath you.

You reach between your bodies then, prying open his button and yanking the zipper down. Then your hand is in his pants, tracing the outline of his heavy cock where it bulges under cotton.

You lean down and press a kiss to his clothed length. He hisses through his teeth.

“Baby,” he groans, hand coming down to tilt your chin up towards his face. “Another time. I need to be inside you. Right now.”

You don’t argue. He sits up. Shuffles back to the headboard, bringing you with him. He pulls your shirt the rest of the way off, over your head. And then he’s helping you slip out of your jeans and panties so that you’re completely naked atop him.

He pulls you in for another bruising kiss as he tugs his pants and boxers down, just enough to free his leaking cock. He strokes it languidly, smearing pre-cum from the tip down his length. You’re already impatient by the time he’s lining himself up with your entrance, so much so that you have to refrain from taking him all the way down in one go. You use your better judgment, sinking onto him slowly, until you’re flush with his pelvis, the hair at his base tickling your inner thighs.

His eyes are squeezed shut, his breathing labored as you adjust to the size of him. You’ve missed the sweet, burning stretch of him, the fullness you feel when he’s inside you, like you’re complete, whole. You’re pretty sure you could stay like this forever, make a home here on his throbbing cock.

When the sting dissipates, you begin to move, rocking on top of him. He grabs onto your hips, steadying you, his eyes blinking half-open to take you in.

“Fuck,” he rasps as you set a steady pace, his cock disappearing from you, then filling you to the brim again and again. “‘ts it baby, take my fuckin’ cock; ridin’ it so good.”

His hips snap up, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs. You wrap your hands around his neck reflexively, digging your nails into his shoulders, indenting crescent moons in the muscle there as he ruts against your g-spot. Your face falls against his chest, your muffled pleas for Joel to fuck you harder, harder, right there barely coherent.

He gets the message regardless.

He pulls you down onto his cock, essentially spearing you on it. You think he must be bruising your cervix, the way his thick head is repeatedly bumping it, but you don’t care. You need every inch of him, need to take everything he has to give you; it feels as essential as the air being punched out of your chest right now.

He’s fucking up into you so brutally that you find yourself delirious, eyes rolling back in your head for the second time tonight. You can’t even find the strength to warn him of your rapidly approaching orgasm, your body going limp in his grasp. He doesn’t need you to, though — he can tell just by the way you squeeze him that you’re close.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?,” he growls, hitting that spongy spot over and over and over.

“Uh — ahhh — uh-huh,” you moan weakly into his skin. Your fingers loosen at his neck, too weak to hold onto him any longer.

Suddenly, he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head off of his chest and holding it up so that you’re looking him in the eye.

His gaze is lascivious, almost carnal, like going without you for so long has him ready to swallow you whole.

“Look at me,” he spits, “look at me when you cum.”

You nod wearily. You want to give him that, want to give him anything he asks of you. But you’re not sure if you can, not when your eyelids feel like boulders on your face.

“C-can’t Joel,” you manage through moans as they fall shut again.

“Nuh-uh,” he snaps, yanking at your roots. Your eyes fly open at the intrusion.

“You can do it baby, c’mon. Missed these pretty eyes so much — wanna see ‘em.”

You can only imagine how absolutely fucked-out you must look, using every last ounce of energy in your body to keep from slipping again. Your eyes glaze over slightly as he gives a particularly rough thrust, and you feel yourself skyrocket to the edge.

You feel like putty in his hands — and maybe you are. You’d let him mold you to whatever shape he pleased right about now, when he’s making you feel this good.

“There ya go,” Joel coos, bringing his thumb to your clit. He lazily swipes it once — twice — and you begin to fall apart in his arms.

It’s almost violent, your second orgasm of the night. It rips through you, your body thrashing on top of Joel’s, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he continues pounding into you. It feels different too, something more intense lingering, the threat of it just behind your walls.

And then he hits that spot again, the one that makes you see stars, and you’re gushing around him. Your release splatters out onto the duvet below you, soaking it. If Joel notices, he doesn’t care.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he groans.

Your eyes adjust as you come to. You take in Joel’s, charcoal black and blown-out with lust. You feel shy, almost, which you know is ridiculous given he’s still inside you. But even so, the way he looks at you, like you’re the most desirable thing he’s ever seen — it makes your cheeks heat.

He flips you over onto your back in one swift movement, slipping from you momentarily as he helps you to wrap your shaky legs around him. Presses a gentle kiss to your trembling ankle as he does. And then he’s burying himself in you again, right to the hilt, his pace slowing as he nears the edge.

“Please baby,” you cry. “Please cum inside. Need to feel you.”

Your body feels boneless under Joel’s weight, like he’s fucked near everything out of you. And now you need him to feel good, to take whatever he needs from you, whatever you have left to give.

“Fuck,” he grunts. His hips stall abruptly. He spills into you, deep moans pulling from the back of his throat. You dig your heels into the meat of his ass, dragging him closer, forcing him so deep he paints your cervix.

He pulls out with a hiss, his length softening against your mound as he lifts himself up on his elbows to kiss you. It’s a meager kiss, both of you still too out of breath to deepen it, but it soothes you, along with the soft graze of his thumb over your ribs.

You hold each other for a while, in no rush to move from this moment. You’re pretty sure you drift off more than once, awoken each time by the vibration of his gentle hums against your neck. When you finally do move, it’s not far, just up the bed and under the covers. And then his arms are right back where they were, around you, pulling you tightly to him.

He falls asleep before you, snoring quietly at the crown of your head. You try to wiggle from his grasp, move to the other side of the bed, but even in his sleep, he’s acutely aware of your presence. He just grips you harder, nuzzles his head deeper into your hair. You’ve never felt more content being stuck somewhere.

You slip under again eventually. You’re pretty sure you dream of nothing — no need for your brain to conjure up anything more than what you already have.

The following morning, you wake up with Joel’s tongue between your legs. He nibbles at your inner thigh, waiting for you to give him the go ahead to continue. And then he makes you cum twice on his mouth before you even eat breakfast.

He doesn’t let you get up for that, either. He brings you hot coffee in a Texas Longhorns mug and a plate of toast, slathered with butter and grape jelly, and doesn’t complain when you get crumbs on the sheets.

You’re satiated and caffeinated before you even start your day — which Joel has planned out to a t.

He brings you to his favorite spot for lunch, a BBQ place by the river, and acts smug when you tell him these are the best ribs I’ve ever had in my life. Then you go home, take a shower — together, of course — and you rinse shampoo out of your hair with his cock nestled comfortably inside you.

He fucks you with your hands braced against the shower wall until you’re screaming, the echoes bouncing off of tile, and then you get back in bed, laze around in your towels until dinnertime.

Joel orders takeout — sushi for you, lo mein and teriyaki beef for him. You sprawl out on the couch as you eat, your feet in his lap and the calming buzz of the tv on in the background.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a long time.

You easily fall into a routine over the course of the week: wake up, fuck, eat breakfast in bed, fuck, get up around noon, shower, eat lunch, grade papers while Joel cleans up or does yardwork, eat dinner, fuck, go to sleep.

You almost forget that this isn’t permanent, that you’re going to have to get on a plane and go home soon, that this isn’t your home, here with Joel. That is, until Friday night, over dinner — when Joel abruptly pulls you back down to earth.

You’re finishing your pasta, spooning the last remnants of sauce into your mouth. Some western flashes across the tv — Joel’s choice, and as you put your bowl down on the coffee table and snuggle up to him, he sighs.

“This has gotta be the best vacation of my life — or, staycation, I guess.” He says it innocently enough. Still, you feel jolted. Vacation, you repeat in your head until your brain catches up with reality. You feel smothered, suddenly, warm, like your whole body is an ore about to be smelted. You extricate yourself from Joel’s arms and settle on the other side of the couch.

“Just hot,” you lie. “Sorry.”

“‘ts alright,” he murmurs, unphased, eyes glued to the tv.

He doesn’t notice the way you tense, the way your breathing picks up when you excuse yourself to the bathroom. But why should he? There’s no reason for you to be freaking out.

Except there is.

Because the thought of leaving in a couple days, leaving behind Joel and this routine, not seeing him again for several more months, and even then, only having a weekend, or if you’re lucky, a week with him – it’s making you spiral.

You lock yourself in the bathroom. Close the lid to the toilet. When you sit down, your head falls into your hands, heaving breaths warming the skin of your palms uncomfortably. I can’t do this, you think. I can’t keep doing this.

You love Joel — you do, more than anything. And you can’t begin to imagine living without him. But you also can’t help but wonder, elbows digging into your knees, how this has become your life — all the leaving.

Something heavy settles in the pit of your stomach. You feel nauseous.

You get up. Splash cold water on your face. Curse your reflection, all sunken eyes and tear-stained cheeks. So stupid. This is why you didn’t want to get into another relationship. The pain, the pain, the unbearable pain.

Why did you have to fall in love with him?

There’s a clanging on the other side of the door — Joel clearing your dishes from dinner — an act of domesticity that plunges the dagger deeper into your bleeding heart.

You wipe your cheeks with your shirt sleeve. Huff at how pathetic you feel.

It’s so stupid, so silly, crying in Joel’s bathroom when he’s right outside, right there waiting for you. Even still, you can’t seem to shake the dread that hangs over you like a storm cloud when you make your way back into the living room with dried eyes, back into his arms.

You hope, silently, that it’ll go away with a good night’s sleep. That this is just a minor breakdown, a hormonal thing, maybe, and you’ll feel better in the morning.

It doesn’t, it’s not — and you don’t.

Joel can tell something is wrong the moment he hands you your morning coffee. You’d slept in today, legs tangled under the sheets, trepidation still clawing its way up your throat. You’d been quiet, had only hummed in response when he’d told you good morning.

That, he hadn’t noticed. But when he passes you the mug, steam billowing from the mouth, he detects the way you won’t look at him, your mumbled thank you.

You catch the way he steps back with a dejected hmph, and rounds the bed to climb in next to you.

You feel awful.

The mattress springs creak as he settles, balancing his full mug in one hand, laying the other over yours where it sits on top of the duvet, resting on your covered leg.

“Y’alright?,” he asks, even though you know he knows the answer. It’s why you don’t lie, shake your head. Your eyes flick up to his as a frown sets under his nose.

You downplay it. “I’m fine, really. It’s just — I — I’m sad that today’s our last full day. I don’t wanna go home yet.”

“Don’t have to go,” he drawls, drawing light circles over your skin with his index finger.

And you know he means it — know he’d let you move in with him in a heartbeat. But you also know you can’t. Can’t leave behind the life you worked so hard to make in Vermont.

“I wish,” you sigh, taking a cautious sip of your coffee.

“Well…d’you wanna do somethin’ today? Go into the city? I know we haven’t done much’a anything this week.” He smirks. And just for a moment, the look on his face — that dopey smile and those sweet cinnamon eyes — makes you forget about the darkness fogging your mind.

“We can do touristy stuff,” he continues. “Do anythin’ you want. To take your mind off things. Make the most of the day, ya know?”

His brows are raised as he anticipates your response. He’s so eager to do whatever it takes for you to be happy, and that makes your chest clench. More than you want to protect your own heart, you want to appease him. He deserves that, at the very least.

So you say yes, let’s do it; show me around Austin.

The cracks in your heart deepen when he nearly jumps out of bed in excitement.

Joel is a great tour guide, for what it’s worth.

He brings you to his favorite hiking trail in the city. It runs along a lake, the water busy with kayakers and paddle boarders.

The sky above is overcast. A sliver of sun cuts through the clouds, casting your forehead in a light sheen of sweat as you walk.

Every single passerby waves at you or says hello, all in the same singsong twang. Joel waves back, grunts a greeting. It throws you off, how nice everyone is here. You’ve grown used to New England, with its temperamental weather and even more temperamental people.

“Busy,” you note when another group passes you.

“Mhm,” Joel hums. Wraps a sweaty arm around you, pulling you into his side. It’s awkward to walk like this, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Sarah used to love this place. We’d come all the time when she was little.”

You lean into his embrace. Nuzzle your face into the fabric of his T-shirt.

“I know you must’ve missed her this week. Is this the first spring break she hasn’t been home?”

“Yeah,” Joel’s other hand rests at the back of his neck, fingers absently working at a knot in the muscle there. “Gotta get used to it though, I guess, with her stayin’ north after school is over and all.”

“She didn’t tell me that,” you admit. “When did she decide?”

He sighs so deep you can almost feel it in your own chest.

“Couple weeks ago,” he says. “Guess she got some unofficial job offer for after she graduates, from this research institute in Boston. She’s all excited about it.”

You know Joel is proud. He’s always proud of Sarah. How could he not be? But you also know his heart is breaking right now, the long-established plans for Sarah to come home to Texas, to come home to him after finishing undergrad, suddenly squashed.

And then there’s you — leaving too — again.

The thought of hurting Joel is overbearing, more so than the thought of hurting yourself. He doesn’t deserve to be so far away from the woman he’s in a relationship with when his own daughter is already out of reach.

You feel selfish, suddenly.

It plagues your mind for the rest of the day — when you go to a diner after the hike and split a strawberry milkshake the size of your head with Joel — and still, later, when you wander hand-in-hand into a tacky gift shop.

You try your best to ignore the ache in your chest as you scan the store.

The back wall is stacked top to bottom with cowboy boots of varying colors and styles. There are cowboy hats too, displayed on a long table.

Joel picks up an oversized straw hat, resting it on the top of his head with a laugh. “Looks ridiculous, right?”

“Somehow, no,” you say. And it’s the truth. You think he’s the only person who could put that thing on and look hot in it.

He grabs another hat off of the table, a more traditional one — brown leather with a braided band wrapped around the base of the crown. You let him affix it on your head. He steps back to get a good look at you and nods.

“Looks good. Looks sexy,” he amends.

“Yeah?” You dip your head in faux greeting, fingers pressed into the front corner of the brim.

He scans over you then, his eyes darkening. It looks like he’s pondering something, the corner of his mouth curving.

“What?”

He steps closer. Leans down to whisper in your ear. “Think we should get ‘em. Wear ‘em later.”

Your breath pulls. The thought of Joel wearing that and nothing but that underneath you is enough to make you forget your quandaries, temporarily.

“Yeah,” you respond way too quickly. “Let’s get them, Cowboy.”

You watch his entire body tense at the nickname. And then he’s yanking the hat off of you, bringing both to the register in a hurry.

The house is dark when you get home, bag of Greek takeout in hand.

Joel flicks a light on in the entrance. You squint reflexively, your eyes adjusting as you set the food down on the coffee table in the living room. Joel brings your new hats upstairs, then joins you on the couch. You pull out two styrofoam containers, passing the one with Joel’s name scribbled on it to him and leaning back with yours in your lap.

“‘m starvin,” he mumbles as he cracks his open, squeezes a wedge of lemon over his rice.

You eat quickly, something else clearly on both of your minds as you shovel falafel into your mouths. You even forget to turn the tv on.

When you’re done, you insist you’ll clean up, bringing the trash into the kitchen as Joel disappears upstairs. Once everything is tidied, you re-situate yourself on the couch.

He returns a few minutes later — shirtless, that ridiculous cowboy hat fastened on his head, dark jeans sitting low on his hips. He’s holding your hat in his left hand.

There’s a dull throbbing between your legs. He starts across the room, toward you.

“Joel-”

He cuts you off with a kiss, bracketing you against the cushions, his hat bumping into your head. He pulls it off immediately, like if it’s going to interfere in any way, it’s not worth it. It falls onto the floor somewhere behind him.

Joel pulls at the fabric of your shirt. Your back arches, allowing him to pull it up and off before tossing it aside. His mouth moves from yours, trailing lower, lower, and settling at the column of your throat. He sucks a bruise there, the contact sending your hips bucking off the couch, the need for him to touch you already borderline painful.

And then that voice returns, the one that’s been screaming in your head since last night.

This’ll be the last time for a while. Maybe forever. Last time he touches you like this, kisses you like this. Don’t think about it — don’t. Just enjoy it. Just-

“Joel,” you pant. He stops immediately. Pulls back.

“What? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

Tears well in your eyes, blur your vision. You can barely make out the look of concern plastered across Joel’s face as he kneels down in front of you and grips both of your shoulders.

When you speak, your voice comes out shaky. “No, it’s not — I just.” Your breath catches in your throat.

“What? What is it darlin’?,” he tries, massaging tense muscle under his palms.

You hadn’t wanted him to see you like this. You feel embarrassed that he has to comfort you like you’re a child who’s just had a nightmare, and not a grown woman with a PhD. You groan. Catch your breath.

“Fuck. I’m fine,” you try. Joel clearly isn’t buying it. He quirks a brow at you.

“C’mon baby, talk to me. I wanna help, whatever it is. Let me in — please”

And you want to, you do, it’s just — you don’t know how to even explain how you’re feeling.

“This is all so hard,” you start. Joel nods. He wants you to continue. “This whole — situation,” you try. “Being long-distance. It’s just — being here for a whole week and waking up together every morning, having coffee, watching tv at night, like a — fuck — like a real couple — and now I have to go back to normal?”

His face falls.

“Real couple? Is this not real to you?”

“It is real,” you sob. “It’s too real. That’s why it hurts so fucking much. I just, I can’t —”

“Can’t what?” His voice is quiet. Low.

“Can’t do this. Can’t handle the pain. And it must be hurting you too, Joel. Between me and Sarah—”

“I’m fine,” he barks, suddenly jumping to his feet. He takes a deep breath. “This isn’t about Sarah. This is about us. Do you not want this? Me?”

Your hands tremble in your lap. “Of course I want you, Joel,” you sniff. “I want you more than anything. But-”

“But not like this. This is too hard.”

You nod weakly.

He sighs.

“You know you can move here — stay with me.”

You do know. He’s said it so many times before. But you’ve worked way too hard to pack up and start over, to give up your professorship after only three years with the blind hope that you’ll land a new position in Austin. And now you’re mad — infuriated, almost, that he keeps suggesting it.

You scoff. “You know I can’t just give up my life, Joel.”

“So what, you’re just gonna give up on us, instead?” His voice is strained.

“I’m not giving up,” you clip, defensively.

“Certainly doesn’t sound like you’re tryin’.”

He stares at the ceiling. You watch as his eyes mist, his concentration palpable as he wills the tears not to fall. Your anger dissipates into guilt.

This is exactly what you’d feared — breaking his heart. It’s like you can see it fracturing, chipping at the edges.

“I don’t want to,” you whisper. “I don’t — I don’t know. I just can’t.”

His face contorts. A single tear slips down his cheek, which he wipes away quickly with the back of his hand. “Fuck,” he curses.

You stand from the couch, begin to move cautiously toward him. “Joel, I-”

“Don’t,” he snaps. Throws his hands up defensively. And then he’s turning, heading up the stairs, leaving you standing there in the middle of the living room with a ringing in your ears.

When you climb into bed twenty minutes later, he doesn’t acknowledge you.

You fly home the next day. Joel doesn’t say anything on the drive to the airport.

Once there, he pulls over to the curb at the drop-off and puts the car in park. You’re not sure what to do — should you kiss him? Tell him you love him? Because you do, so fucking much. You’re just — not sure if he wants to hear that right now.

He makes the decision for you, cradling your face as he presses a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips. He lets his forehead fall to yours with a sigh, and then he pulls back.

He doesn’t open your door for you, though. Doesn’t grab your bags from the back when you clamber down from the passenger seat.

It’s as if he’s saying: I love you, but I’m going to give you space.

You pry open the back door. Pull out your suitcase and rest your new cowboy hat over the handle. You almost wish now that he hadn’t gotten it for you. It’ll just serve as another reminder of everything you’ve left behind once your home.

“Text me,” he offers once your things are all gathered on the curb. “Let me know when you board, when you’re home safe.”

“Yeah,” you nod. Search his eyes for something. Some indicator that he’s okay. But he’s stoic, his lips set in a straight line. “I will. Promise.”

His mouth opens, like he wants to add something else. But whatever he’s thinking, he decides against saying out loud. Instead he just tells you safe travels, and then he’s pulling the passenger side door closed from the inside.

You stand unmoving. As his truck disappears down the roadway and out of view, a list of all the things you should’ve said rolls through your brain like the end credits of a film.

You send Joel a message when you get home. Let him know you got in safe. You don’t call, like you normally would, because that’s not what he’d asked of you.

Then you climb straight into bed, still in your clothes, and let the tears consume you. You wallow in them for what feels like hours, the natural light in your bedroom gradually sinking into the floorboards. You welcome the nightfall, the way the darkness soothes the pounding in your head, the way it feels like nothing.

Morning comes before Joel responds. You’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, the time on your phone reading 11:09, and the notification from him just below it nearly jolts you:

Okay. Thanks.

No love you, no miss you.

You curse under your breath.

Why did you have to say anything? Why did you have to ruin this?

The pain of possibly losing Joel for good makes the pain of long distance feel like a papercut. All you want is to go back in time, take back everything you said, tell Joel you love him a million-and-one times. Anything to undo this.

You fleetingly consider quitting your job, handing in your resignation letter the second you get to campus tomorrow. You’ll take your unpacked suitcase and head right back to the airport.

You don’t let the temptation win. But it lingers, sits at the top of your chest like a threat. Like if he asks one more time — you’ll do it.

He doesn’t, though. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything — which you should’ve expected — but it still stings. You hadn’t broken up, not technically, so you’re stuck in this weird limbo, one in which neither of you wants to talk about what happened in Austin.

Instead, you text each other once a day or so — weird, surface-level messages, ones you’d send to an acquaintance, not someone who literally knows you inside and out.

Finally above 60°, you say, on Monday morning, attached to a screenshot of your weather app.

Your walk to campus must’ve been nice today, he replies.

And the next day:

Guy at the job site today was talking about that show you like.

Parks & Rec?!

Yeah, that one.

It’s barely enough to keep you going, to keep you sane. You feel pitiful, looking forward to Joel’s text-of-the-day like it’s a re-up of your drug of choice. Better than heroin, you tell yourself.

Two weeks pass with no phone calls and minimal messages. It’s 5:45 pm on a rainy Tuesday when you sit at your dining room table with a pile of papers to grade in front of you, some low-fi playlist on in the background, unable to focus.

Because Joel hasn’t texted you all day.

Usually he’d send something by now. And it’s not like you hadn’t texted him — in fact, you’d double-texted, one message sent this morning about how you burned your tongue on your coffee, and another after your final class of the day when you’d seen he still hadn’t responded:

Busy day?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, the gears in your mind whirring as you debate whether or not to send the words punctuated by a flickering cursor on your screen:

Can I call you later?

He’ll probably say no. Or worse, continue to ignore you. Maybe this is it — maybe weeks of dancing around residual tension have driven him to call it quits. He’ll block you, and then you’ll never hear from him again.

The thought has bile rising up your throat.

You close out of the app and put your phone down before stalking over to the living room, letting yourself fall stomach-first onto the couch. You stuff your face into a throw pillow and scream.

You almost don’t hear it over your muffled yells — the rapping at your front door.

You still, lifting your head from the pillow. Listening intently. It comes again — rapraprap.

Ugh, you groan, lifting yourself onto your elbows, then your feet. You pull your cardigan tighter over your front. Drag your feet across the hardwood to the entranceway, wondering who the fuck could be at your door on a Tuesday evening, unannounced.

Is it the property manager?, you speculate as you reach the door. Was there an issue with my rent?

Your fingers wind around the handle apprehensively. You peer through the peephole and your heart plummets into your stomach.

Because Joel is standing right outside your apartment.

You wonder if you’re seeing things. If you’ve gone full-on hysterical. But it’s him, it’s unmistakably him — in his favorite flannel and his workwear jacket, which is smattered in rain spots. His gaze is trained on the floor by his feet and his hands are fidgeting at his sides — just like the first time you met him.

You throw the door open. Joel’s eyes shoot up. For a long moment, you just stare at each other, waiting for the other to say something — do something.

When your breath pulls, he rushes forward and crashes his lips into yours. He backs you into your apartment, letting the door slam shut behind you.

You barely hear it, still registering that Joel is here, he’s here and he’s kissing the hell out of you. And just minutes ago, you’d been sulking on your couch, convinced it was over between you two.

You feel dizzy. You pull back, only because you fear if you don’t, you’ll literally topple over. Joel’s breathing is heavy — it matches yours.

“What are you — fuck — what are you doing here, Joel?”

“I need to talk to you,” he pants.

“Could’ve called,” you say, as if there’s any universe in which you’d prefer that.

You lead him to the living room. Fall back onto the couch. He sits down next to you, taking both of your hands in his. You get a good look at him for the first time since he’d barreled into your apartment, and he looks wrecked.

“Are you okay?,” you ask.

His response isn’t much of an answer. “’m selling my house.”

Your head spins. “You — what?”

“Listed it last week,” he says. “Already got a couple offers.”

“Oh,” you blink. “Okay.”

“‘m gonna move up here.”

Oh.

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat straight out of your chest. You’re — speechless.

“I put an offer on a place,” he continues. “‘ts a ranch with some land. Room for sheep. I’m sellin’ my half of the business to Tommy. Leavin’ Texas.”

He exhales. His eyes search yours with tangible desperation. “Say somethin’.”

“I — fuck, Joel,” you breathe. “You’re — when? How?”

“Found the place a couple days ago. ‘ts about thirty minutes Southeast of here. Just went and saw it in person. Sent my offer letter before I came here.”

“Right,” you nod. “But Joel, you can’t just leave-”

“Sure I can,” he interrupts. “Nothin’ there for me anymore. Not Sarah, not you.”

A beat passes. And then he adds:

“I can’t lose you.”

Your heart swells in your chest as you imagine Joel this past week, making all of these plans to rectify the distance between you, to be sure he doesn’t lose you. And still — you’re not sure if you deserve it after the way you hurt him.

“You — you still want me, even after what I said?”

“Darlin’,” he says, in that honey-sweet drawl. “I love you. There’s nothin’ you could do to make me not want you. You were right. This isn’t feasible. We can’t do this forever.”

“Joel,” you sigh, “I just — you’re sure you want this?”

“I want you,” he says plainly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world — like nothing else matters. “And you need to be here. So it’s a no-brainer”

The rain picks up outside. It patters against the windows.

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave,” he says. “I’ll retract my offer. Go back to Texas.”

“I do Joel — want you here more than anything, love you more than anything. But-”

“Good.” He cups your face in his hands. You stare into his eyes, your future.

“It’s settled, then,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours, his fingers twisting in the fabric of your shirt. “I’m movin’ to Vermont.”

“This is crazy,” you laugh. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you more,” he beams. “No gettin’ rid of me now.”

You smile so wide your cheeks hurt. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Cowboy.”

end notes: ty again for reading! pls consider reblogging and leaving a comment if you liked it <3

tagging everyone who expressed interest in reading a part 2 (lmk if you don't want to be included going forward): @anoverwhelmingdin, @joelalorian, @lol-im-done, @bensonispunk, @sereindreams, @survivingandenduring, @stevie75, @vee-bees-blog, @brittmb115, @casssiopeia, @bbyanarchist, @janaispunk, @barbellpedro

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel x reader #pedro pascal as joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #fiiyb

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the-kr8tor · 9 months ago

Note

Reporting for duty Captain!

A tasm Peter Parker request for a shy reader who likes Peter but backs out when she wants to talk to him or- OR, (more like and) a reader with w rizz who's known Peter since forever and ever. Who has the same interest in photography as he does?? Works in a photo store??

Cook chef!

*gasp* a peter parker request?! Got you, my love 🫡 happy to oblige.

Pairing: TASM! Peter Parker x fem! Reader/ TASM! Spider-Man x fem! Reader

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mentions, Love struck Peter, Fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Peter doesn't need to ask around campus for you, he already knows where you are, a perk of knowing you since grade school. He evens his breathing when he finally reaches the worn out doors.

The bells jingle as he enters the old store, yellowed wallpaper greeting him and drab shelves lined with rolls of films, the vintage cameras make up for the boringness of the gray shelves. Ancient posters of movies lined the walls, a time capsule of the early eighties. It's silent inside, no other customer than him.

His sneakers squeak on the linoleum as he walks towards the cashier, expecting to see your smile, your hands occupied with whatever book you're currently (hating) reading. He finds it empty.

Peter's spidey senses don't tingle so he can relax knowing that you're in the back of the store. He jumps over the counter effortlessly thanks to his abilities. Knocking on the door, he hears the muffled sound of your speaker.

“Y/N?”

“In here, Pete—! Wait!!” With a creak, Peter opens the door without skipping a beat. The light from the store filters through the dark room, white covering and filtering out all the red. “No! Close it quick!”

“Oh shit!” He shuts it quickly behind him, too fast and harder than he thought, the wood almost cracks at the sheer force. Wincing, you both mirror each other's expression.

“Pete…” you sigh, closing the distance to check the door, you can't afford to lose a chunk of your paycheck for repairs. But you don't blame him, it's hard to stay mad at Peter especially when he's looking so apologetic at you, almost like a kicked puppy. “You got too excited to see me huh?”

He shuts his eyes with a smile, head falling down, chin atop his chest. He looks exasperated but he did it to hide the blush on his cheeks, hoping that if you manage to glimpse it you'd think it's from the red light.

This won't do, you thought. You missed him too much today just for him to hide his face from you. To remedy the feeling, you grasp his cheek, thumb gently placed right under his eye.

“There you are webhead,” your voice is saccharine, the ruby light bouncing off your face, illuminating your features perfectly. Peter thought he'd melt right on the spot. “Missed me?” In truth, you're the one who misses him most.

He wants to say yes without a second thought but knowing you, you're already aware of his answer. Even though you refuse to acknowledge it. Under all the teasing exterior there's shyness underneath it all, with just one flirty comment thrown your way you'd probably collapse.

Peter finally meets your smiling eyes and for a moment you're the only thing that matters.

With classes and spiderman responsibilities, hanging out with you has been scarce, he needed a fix right away, that's why he came sprinting towards the store immediately after a three hour class and after swinging across town to your favorite deli with his wind swept hair and shirt that definitely needs ironing.

“Not really.” A lie, an awful lie on his part.

“Aww,” you dramatically clutch at your chest, hand leaving his skin to his dismay. “Hear that? You just broke my heart, Parker.”

“D’you even have one?”

“Hey!” You playfully punch his shoulder. “You're the one who ruined my pictures.”

His eyes flick towards the clothesline filled with pictures that just screams ‘you.’ “I can see from here that they're not ruined.”

You click your tongue, hands on your hips, you walk back towards the table. “What are you doing here then, webhead?” Lowering the volume of your speaker, you decide to shut it off when his voice is a much better alternative.

“I feel like I should be offended by that.” Peter stands beside you, hip to hip, arm brushing along yours.

Placing his hand on the small of your back casually, he loops his thumb around your belt loop, pressing softly on your skin. He's done this a hundred times during your friendship but it never fails to wake up the butterflies in your stomach.

“I've called you that numerous times.” Holding the tongs, you carefully place the developed photo in the chemical mixture in the basin, eyes watching the picture pop up slowly.

“Stop being mean, I've come bearing gifts from the deli you like.” His voice is quiet, soft just for you.

“The one that's on the upper west side? Peter, that's really far away.”

“I don't mind, that's what web swinging is for right?”

You scrunch up your nose, Peter has the best seat in the house while he admires your expression.

“And here I thought it was for fighting crime.” You chuckle, pushing the paper further down in the basin. His deep chuckle stops abruptly at the sight in front of him.

Peter's own smiling face greets him and your charisma cracks.

“Oh” you manage to let out with your dry mouth.

You can hear him shudder a breath next to you. The picture is framed perfectly, his face centered in the middle amongst the crowd, zoomed in more like. You clearly avoided having other people in the frame, your main subject was him and him alone.

“...Good picture.” He slaps himself mentally.

“Yep, one of my best, I think.” You say quietly, too quietly. Clearing your throat, you avoid his eyes, “why don't you ready the food? Outside, please?”

Peter shakes himself awake. His skin feels like lava, there's a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. Hands clammy, he nods wordlessly. He awkwardly pats your back before leaving your side.

Walking towards the exit, your back turned towards him, shoulders slouched and tensed. He turns towards you before exiting, “looks like you missed me more, sweetheart.” He's called you that millions of times, all filled with more affection than the last but this one, oh this one he added with so much love that it could stop your heart.

And you think it has.

Peter hears you squeak, a sound he hasn't heard you make since high school when he asked you to dance during the winter formal.

You whirl around, catching sight of his Parker smile, charm oozing out of him that's already gone before you could admire him in the crimson light.

He leaves, shutting the door quickly. Laying his sweaty forehead on the door, he tightly closes his eyes again, feeling like a lightning just struck him and adrenaline coursing through his veins, needing to swing off the extra energy.

Blowing hot air, he takes his clammy hands off the doorknob to take out the food he bought, grinning through it like a mad man.

Meanwhile, you clutch the table with a grip, heart threatening to jump out of your chest, heat in your cheeks as the photo of Peter smiles at you.

Laughing to yourself, you take out his picture to clip it on the clothesline next to the other pictures. You have no idea what to say to him once you leave the room, or do you just stay in the dark room forever? Either way, you're absolutely fucked.

#request done #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x you #peter parker x fem!reader #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm imagine #tasm fanfic #tasm x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker fluff #spiderman x reader #spiderman x fem! reader #cw food mention #fanfic #the kr8tor's creations

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cecilxa · 2 years ago

Text

lasting childhood dream/sweetly shared future

summary: ever since you were little, alhaitham knew what he wanted.

contents: childhood friends!au, fluff, ambiguous relationship at the end (although implied romantic), gn!reader (they/them pronouns used), soft soft alhaitham

cw: food

wc: 1k

a/n: so so sorry for the slow updates :') things will (hopefully !) be picking up momentum again 🤞

“Hey, Haitham.”

Your high-pitched voice calls out to him. He chooses to ignore it.

“Hey! Haitham! Are you purposely ignoring me cause you wanna read? Again?”

A crease forms at his eyebrows–an action that a nine-year-old should never have gotten used to as often as he did–and his hands tighten around the pages of his book. You always did this. Nearly every day, you would choose to sit next to him. He can’t even remember when it started, but soon enough, you had proclaimed him your ‘best friend for life’.

For a child prodigy like Alhaitham, it’s extraordinary how he has no idea why you’ve chosen him to be your designated play partner. You don’t even play like the other kids. He just sits there, reading his book, and you sit there with him, chatting incessantly about whatever it is you want–not like he cares, anyway. (It was food on Monday, an interesting flower you found on Tuesday, and food again on Wednesday.)

He’s never asked you why, and you’ve stuck with him long enough for him to be satisfied with not knowing. It’s not like he’s not curious; he just finds his books more interesting.

“Well, since you’re not answering, I guess I’ll just find someone else to play with!”

You harrumph, turning your head away. However, since you don’t make any move to physically get up, Alhaitham doesn’t look up from the slightly-yellowed pages that he hasn't noticed he's crinkling.

But then, the unthinkable happens. Legs that were previously lounging beside him begin to unfold and rise, a shadow forming over his head. It takes him the time for you to fully stand up for him to comprehend what was happening. His crease deepens further.

“Wait.”

On instinct, one of his hands that was holding onto his book clasps onto yours, his head bowed down. His fringe hides his face, which, for once–however annoying it may be–he’s grateful for, as it means you can’t see the blush readily spreading across his cheeks. Pretending to be more interested in dragon fights and swordsmanship, he all but whispers.

“Stay. I like it better when you’re here.”

Your eyes lighten up, and a large smile breaks out across your face.

“I like it when you’re with me too! And I wasn’t actually gonna leave you. I just wanted to get us some sweets!”

“Oh.”

If he wasn’t already thankful for his fringe, he definitely is now, what with the embarrassment he’s being forced to endure. You can still probably see his ears, which he can feel burning up. Not replying, he lets go of your hand–almost abruptly–and lets you skip away to the local sweets vendor that always exudes a sugary smell.

He watches you all the way. The sun’s shining brightly on your skin, making it glow. Your toothy grin still pervades his mind, and he can feel the blush on his cheeks that never seems to go away whenever you’re around. Or maybe that’s the heat. But then why is his heart doing backflips? And why do those backflips increase in speed when he looks down at the hand that was held in yours? He thinks that they fit perfectly, like two pieces in a jigsaw puzzle, and (as much as he doesn’t want to admit it) that he wants you to be around him.

“Stupid thoughts. I only tolerate them because they’re my only friend.”

He chooses to ignore the other thought that his heart seems to tell.

“They’re my only friend. But I don’t mind, because I really only care about them.”

After a few minutes, you come back with that same toothy grin, carrying an assortment of sweet treats for the both of you to devour in only a few seconds. They all blend together into a saccharine scent.

“Look, try this one, Haitham! The person said it was a new flavour!”

He accepts it immediately, taking it gently from your hand and putting it into his mouth. It explodes with flavour–nutty and aromatic, nothing like the sugary syrup of the others. A small and satisfied smile creeps onto his face, his eyes failing to hide his delight. It does get stuck, however, as he tries to get parts of it dislodged from the gaps in his teeth. A giggle interrupts him.

“Haitham, you look really funny! Y’know, I want to have a sweet shop when we’re grown up so that I can make all the sweets you want! Then we can have fun together even when we have to do grown-up, boring stuff.”

You remember to be considerate, and turn to him.

“What about you, Haitham? What do you wanna be when you’re grown up?”

–

Alhaitham doesn’t remember exactly what he said after. Probably a scholar. All he can remember is younger him staring blatantly, mouth gaping open at your questioning eyes, and his heart pounding at your mention of ‘we’. The realisation that you felt the same way as him left him astounded. In that moment, he felt something bloom in his chest, something that he’s carried all these years.

Although he’s not sure whether you ever fully understood how much of a soft spot he had for you. You never even noticed how his headphones were always on the ground, rather than on his head, whenever you were around.

Now, reading his book peacefully, he looks down at his lap and allows himself to smile. You’re going to wake up with a sore neck if he keeps you in this position for much longer, but just for a moment, he wants to admire you.

Alhaitham strokes your hair tenderly, moving it out of your face, nimble fingers caressing your jawline. His eyes soften. How much you’ve meant to him. The years that he’s known you for don’t compare to the amount of gazes he’s thrown your way, so full of youthful longing and yearning. Because ever since you said ‘we’, he’s been able to answer your question. Maybe not in the exact same way he did all those years ago, but an answer that’s been stewing for every year after.

“When I grow up, I want to be by your side.”

a/n: he’s grown on me i can’t lie 😔 enemies to lovers though 😍😍 likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated !! 🩷🩷 (pink heart for iOS finally!)

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin drabbles #alhaitham drabble #this one’s over 1k words so proud of myself #self love ❤️#and PLS ALHAITHAM HOW HAVE YOU DONE THIS #ily 😘

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actuallysaiyan · 7 months ago

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Bad Habit(Nanami Kento x Fem!Curse!Reader) Part II

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, curse and human relations, rough sex, creampie finish, slightly ambiguous ending word count: 1.2k pairings: Nanami Kento x Fem!Curse!Reader summary: Kento is after you once more, this time he wants to settle the score. Something snaps inside of him...maybe you'd be better off going with him and learning a thing or two about humans. a/n: continuation of this! Might be a part 3 with fluff! Dividers by the wonderful @benkeibear taglist: @beneathstarryskies @an-ever-angry-bi @seireiteihellbutterfly. @namikyento @benkeibear. @adharadotcom @heyitsd1yaa. @darkstarlight82 Psst, wanna be part of the taglist? Click here!

He’s chasing you up and down the dark alleyways once more. Even if it’s irritating and aggravating, something inside of him knows he needs to see you again. The last time had been so thrilling. He craved your touch and that sickeningly sweet scent of you.

Once he had got back to the school the last time, he looked up different types of curses. He found out that you are a Succubus-type curse. Kento thought it was ridiculous at first, but then he thought about how you had so easily seduced him.

This time you’re giggling, taunting him from afar. He lets you go for a bit, then he catches up. He’s toying with you, enjoying this. Despite the fact he knows how this is going to end, Kento still finds himself feeling giddy.

Finally, he catches up to you. Your pink eyes widen when he pushes you against the wall. A soft grunt comes from you as the air is pushed from your lungs. He’s much stronger than you anticipated.

“Done with your little games?” He asks, his teeth bared to you. “Done fucking around?”

But you can see he’s excited to be near you again. You know he’s been craving you. It’s not your fault that you were a curse created this way. It’s not your fault that you are so sexy. It’s just the way you happen to be.

“Mmm and what if I say no? Do I get punished?” Your voice is saccharine.

Kento grabs a fistful of your hair, his blunt blade pushed against your neck. “Why don’t you see what happens?”

Something about this display of power and strength makes you wet. You never quite understood why you had human reactions to the sexual perversions of humans, but everything just made you aroused. Even the slightest little thing could turn you on.

“Gonna kill me? Get rid of me? I thought we had a good time last time,” you pout a little, and Kento looks at your pretty lips.

He’s thinking about how good you sucked him off last time. He had stayed up late that night, jerking off and trying to imagine what it would be like to fuck your mouth. Or maybe what it would be like to fuck your cute little cunt.

“That’s irrelevant.”

You roll your eyes, “Is that all you ever have to say?”

And with that, you manage to break free from his grasp. Once more, you open your domain. This time it feels even more warm here. The scent of roses and vanilla overwhelms his senses completely. Kento is already starting to feel his cock harden. It’s almost too much, but he knows he has to keep a sharp mind.

“I know you’re tense, baby.” You coo in his ear.

“I’m not your baby.”

You blow in his ear gently, causing him to grunt. “Awhhh, yeah you could be though.”

He rolls his eyes and slams you against the wall once more. This time, he’s shaking as he tries to keep you pinned to the wall. When you giggle, his heart skips a beat. You lean in close, your lips almost touching.

“Kento, it’s okay.”

He recoils like you’ve just touched him with something burning hot. His eyes are narrowed. This time he presses his blade against your neck even harder, making you whine. Tears begin to fill your eyes and your domain has almost dissipated.

But then, just then…he pities you. He sees how you’re in pain. He doesn’t like this feeling at all. He wonders why he would even feel this close to a curse. You were just a good fuck last time. That’s all you really are.

“How the fuck do you know my name?” He demands to know the answer.

You shrug, “I just know.”

He shakes his head, “Answer me, or else I’m ending you now.”

“I…I followed you home.”

This makes his blood run cold. You were more than just an annoyance. You were a threat to his very being. This time he grips you by the hair, pushing you against the wall even harder. He spreads your thighs, spitting into his free hand. You’re not even wearing much, making access to your cunt even easier.

“I knew you’d want this,” you whisper hotly.

Without thinking, he unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants. He looks at you; your gazes locking. Then Kento kisses you fiercely and hungrily. His tongue fights for dominance with yours, but he easily wins.

You feel his fingers rubbing your already soaked folds, making you whimper and whine in between the heated kisses. Your fingers eagerly cling to him when Kento shoves two of his fingers knuckle-deep into you.

“You need to be taught a lesson. That’s your problem, you’re just a brat who’s used to getting her way.”

You can’t even argue with him. It’s true, you do use your powers to your advantage. Most men and a lot of women fall for your charms, so it makes it all the more easier to get what you want.

“Why don’t you teach me the lesson?”

He pulls his fingers from your cunt, leaving you spasming. Your eyes roll back when he impales you on his thick girth. Kento smirks as he feels your domain faltering.

“Awhh what’s this? You can’t even keep up your domain while I fuck you this good?”

His words barely register. You aren’t even sure how to answer. You’ve never had a human do this to you. This was the first time a human was able to make you feel this way. Your heart speeds up as the pleasure takes hold.

Nanami picks up the rhythm, slamming himself into you over and over. He knows he could easily become addicted to this. It was like the blowjob the last time. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He had jerked off a hundred times, just thinking about your pretty lips wrapped around his throbbing cock.

“You must love getting fucked nasty like this,” he whispers in your ear. His breath is hot and wet on your skin.

“Mmhm, yeah yeah yeah!”

He laughs in a mocking way. You’re such a little slut. But of course, due to the nature of how you became a curse, it was only natural. He kisses you once more, relishing in the way your little cunt squeezes him when he kisses you. Kento is loving this way too much.

As you reach your own peak, there’s a thought that runs through his mind. He could easily use his Ratio technique on you. Especially since you’re in such a vulnerable spot. You even feel his energy rising, and you begin to suspect he’s going to end you.

You cling to him, fingernails digging into the meat of his back. His muscles tense as he gets closer to his own orgasm. His eyes roll back as his thighs shake. His large hands bring you down with every harsh thrust before he buries himself completely into you. Spurts of hot cum begin to fill you up, and you swear this will be your last moment of existence.

Then you find yourself on the ground, covered by Nanami’s suit jacket. You’re confused because you were so sure he was going to end you.

“Get up,” Kento barks. But there’s a soft smile on his face. “You’re coming with me.”

#bacon.writes #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #nanami x curse #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento smut #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x y/n

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ushiwhacka · 2 years ago

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time skip! ushijima wakatoshi + fem! reader | mdni | 1,446 words | established relationship, semi-public sex, oral (m! receiving), rough sex, size kink, body worship, aftercare, wakatoshi fucks your face because he loves you, ok <3

a/n: i'm so sorry if you've seen this before! i accidentally deleted my original post so yeah oops.

it’s the way wakatoshi introduces you to his teammates and coaches. his hand resting gently on the small of your back, protecting, reassuring. the silk of your dress crumples around his fingers as they dig into your flesh. a reminder that he’s thinking of you, even as he’s spent the last ten minutes discussing serve techniques and tactics. it’s the way he pulls out your chair and lends you his palm in support as you stand up. it’s the way his eyes become softer when he looks at you. little tender moments enough to start a spark deep in your belly.

at first, it’s just a gentle warmth, the intertwining of fingers, a tug of the sleeve as you pull him closer and lean into him. but he looks so handsome in his suit. and he smells so good as he dips his head down, his nose brushing your hair as he tells you how beautiful you are, how incredible that dress looks on you.

warmth grows into searing heat and touches turn needy. nimble fingers squeezing around the thickness of his arm, tracing the ridges of hard muscle. then moving down to his thigh, playful and light, running along the inside seam of his pants, moving up up up, until his hand wraps around your wrist - an unspoken that’s enough.

need grows into impatience, lips brushing his ear as you whisper saccharine words, syrupy sweet and sticky. but toshi has an irritating amount of self-control and your attempts at seduction are met with gentle pats on the head that feel condescending.

but everything has its limit.

“i want to rub my pussy all over you.” he swallows hard, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat, and his jaw clenches as he turns to look at you. “i’m already so wet. wanna feel?” you hold his hand in your lap as you look at him through long, dark lashes. yes, even his self-control has a limit, and he’s toeing the line. and he knows it’s been crossed when he feels the constraining tightness of his slacks.

minutes later you’re dragging him through empty corridors, checking every door until finally, one opens to reveal a tiny closet. it’s dimly lit and filled with mops and brooms, but it will do. you pull him inside the room by the tie, then keep tugging it down until your lips meet his in a rushed kiss.

“we should go home.” he doesn’t pull away.

“but we can’t,” your hand curls around the bulge of his chubbed cock, “you’re so hard.” oh, he knows. “you should let me take care of you.” people will notice your absence, his teammates will have an invasion of questions. but all his doubts falter and shatter in the grasp of your soft hands.

so wakatoshi lets you push against his broad chest, inhaling sharply as the backs of his thighs meet a worn-out wooden cabinet. his lips never leave yours. his hands on your neck as he tilts your face towards his. but then you’re moving down again, trailing sloppy kisses down the column of his neck, leaving the collar of his white shirt stained with lipstick and sticky gloss.

he leans against the cabinet, long legs bent at the knees and then there’s you kneeling between them. biting your swollen lips as you make quick work of his belt and zipper before pulling his pants and underwear down as far as they will go.

you wrap both of your hands around the base of his cock. it’s so imposing, intimidating even. and you’re never quite sure how you manage to fit it… anywhere, really. so heavy it hangs in your hold.

but it’s also really cute when it gets all flushed and weepy. “hi baby!” the blush spreads from the apples of his cheeks to the tips of his ears. he can’t understand why you always have to talk to it like that. “aww so leaky,” you coo, “i think you want attention, hmm?”

you kiss along his length, leaving more faint lipstick marks behind. his teeth grind against each other at the feeling. he needs more. and you know it, but you love to tease, love to see him squirm in your grasp. you nuzzle your cheek against the velvety skin, looking at him all doe-eyed. “it’s so soft,” your voice a tender mewl.

he has to look away from you for his own sanity. but it’s really to no avail because this - the delicate material of your dress draping over concrete, innocent words a contrast to the lewd way you’re toying with him - is an image now burned into his brain. and then there’s the creeping realisation that he likes this. he wants it.

“just use your mouth,” his voice is strained and hoarse, words clawing their way up his throat, “please.”

no. you bury your face in his balls instead. tongue flat, lapping and sucking on the sensitive skin before tracing the thick vein on the underside of his cock. then running the weeping tip over your lips that turn glossy with his precum. and finally, finally, you wrap your lips around it, whimper a little as you suckle on it.

your mouth is so warm, so wet. and his breaths catch between his ribs as you slobber on the fleshy head, his hands gently holding your face. cheeks hollowing out, your spit mixed with the taste of him dripping down the side of your chin.

toshi’s knuckles turn white as he grips the wooden edge of the cupboard. and whiter still as you move down the length of his shaft. your lips stretching around it. and you look at him, eyes blown with lust and welling with tears as he hits the back of your throat. he thinks he might just cum at the sight of you, so pretty on your knees, so pretty with your mouth full of his cock. barely even halfway in and already struggling as you try to swallow around the girth of it.

he doesn’t mean to but his hands find their way to your head. fingers tangled in your hair and gripping at the roots. he can’t help how his hips buck all on their own. you feel so good, so divine and he can’t hold back the groans that rumble in his throat when you look at him like that, when the only sound he can hear is you gagging on his size, when he sees your spit dribbling down the valley of your breasts. you feel so good that he doesn’t even realise he’s fucking your throat raw. your nails digging into the meat of his thighs, sure to leave angry, crescent marks. but he’s never felt a pleasure so intense, so consuming that it clouds his mind and makes him relinquish all control over his body. it’s instinctive and primal, this need to feel more of you. to surrender to you.

his thrusts turn faster, erratic. and he’s growling out a string of warnings. “i’m- i’m close. i’m close.” but his hands never leave their place on your head and he buries himself inside your throat completely as he finds release. his cum thick and warm, too much to swallow as you sputter around him.

beads of it pool at the corners of your lips. and you’re still catching your breath as you drag your thumb across your mouth and then between your teeth to collect those last few drops.

his head is thrown back, chest heaving and brain fuzzy. swiping a hand through his hair, damp with sweat and sticking to his skin. his state a testament to the power you hold over him. then he’s reaching out for you, every praise that he can think of bubbling in his chest.

but all that comes out is an almost stern “come here.”

wakatoshi helps you to your feet and holds you close to his chest as gentle fingers wipe away the mascara staining your cheeks. then he drapes his suit jacket over your shoulders, smoothes the lapels over your chest, envelops you in the scent of his woody perfume. and a few stolen moments in a mouldy broom closet feel something like worship in his arms.

one hand holding yours while the other rests on the doorknob. “should we go home so you can rub your pussy all over me?” it sounds very different covered in the deep rasp of his voice. and you feel the burn of embarrassment in your ears and the need to hide your face in the creases of his shirt.

“wakatoshi,” you squeal, “you can’t just say that to me!” a deep breath. “but yes.”

for my 🔭 anon <3 it's even later but it's here (again)!

thank you for reading! interaction is very much appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

#posting it AGAIN is just ughdjdhdu embarrassing i'm sorry!!#ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x you #ushijima wakatoshi x y/n #ushijima smut #ushijima wakatoshi smut #hq smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x you

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dearly-somber · 11 months ago

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Twister | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. slow burn, eventual romance, fluff, humor, f2l (friends-to-lovers), pining, found family, high school!au, eventual smut

-> w/c. 1180

-> rating. 13+

-> a/n. Devil All The Time is an actual book I read, and, to this day, it’s still one of my all-time favorites. The excerpt at the beginning is also real!

-> warnings. None!!

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Aug. 16th, 2022 @ 15:00

-> fin. Sat., Sept. 16th, 2023 @ 16:59

-> edited. Mon., Oct. 30th, 2023 @ 23:03

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

Unless he had whiskey running through his veins, Willard came to the clearing every morning and evening to talk to God. Arvin didn't know which was worse, the drinking or the praying. As far back as he could remember, it seemed that his father had fought the Devil all the time—

Someone knocks on Jungkook’s door. You look up from your book (The Devil All The Time by Donald Ray Pollock) and smile smugly at Yoongi as he stands in the doorway, a grumpy pout on his face. “Can I help you?” you ask saccharinely.

He grumbles something you don’t catch before saying, “We’re playing Twisters downstairs.”

You gasp dramatically. “Am I dreaming or are you actually being nice to me for once?”

He growls low in his throat. “Don’t push your luck, human.”

You set your book face-down and skip past him, bounding downstairs with a smug grin. “I’m not leaving anytime soon, Boongles, so you better get used to it!”

“What did you just—“

“Y/N!” Jungkook’s face breaks out into a blinding smile as you enter the living room a few paces in front of Yoongi, his metaphorical tail wagging excitedly.

“Hey, Kook. I heard you’re thinking about me,” you tease, gently patting his back when he rolls his eyes and pulls you in for a hug. As you pull away, you ask, “So! How are we doing this?”

“I was thinking teams, since it’s only four of us playing,” Hoseok says, looking up from where he’s slung an arm around a still-grumpy Yoongi’s shoulders. “We can have two players move during one spin, and the other two the next, that way we can take turns so it’s not too chaotic.”

“The others aren’t playing?” you ask, kind of disappointed. Oh, the amount of chaos there would’ve been if more of them had joined you.

Jungkook shakes his head no. “They’re not feeling it. We convinced Jisoo noona to spin for us, though.”

Jisoo walks in from the kitchen with a glass of red wine in hand. She smiles amicably at you as she takes a seat. “Hey, Y/N. How’s the book so far?”

“Good, thanks.” You turn back to the others. “I assume JK and I are gonna be in a team, then?”

Hoseok grins mischievously as he shares a strange look with Jungkook, saying, “Told you. It’s me and you, hyung.” Hoseok smiles down at Yoongi, who sighs his acceptance.

“Let’s get this over with,” he grumbles.

You turn to look at Jungkook, who quickly tries to hide a dopey smile. “Why? What did Hobi oppa tell you?”

“Shh.” He turns you back to the mat with his hands on your shoulders. “Focus on winning.”

“Alright!” Jisoo sets her glass down and picks up the wheel. “First spin!” She flicks the plastic arrow, waiting a few seconds for the outcome before calling out, “Right foot, yellow!”

“You go,” you tell Jungkook. He nods, dropping his hands from your shoulders and taking a confident step forward as Yoongi does the same.

“Next… Right leg, blue!”

🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕

In hindsight, Jungkook should’ve seen this coming. He should’ve known Hoseok was trying to set him up from the second he asked if “angel” would be joining them for Twister, even though Jungkook had been more than content to let her stay in his room a little longer. (His complacency with her absence had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that her scent was getting on his sheets.)

Now, with Y/N bending in front of him in a makeshift downward-dog and only one viable option for his next callout (right foot, blue), Jungkook wants to smack his head against a wall. He’d have to move his leg halfway across the mat, so he wouldn’t have any balance.

Unless, of course, he held onto Y/N’s hips.

Twister was a cursed game and he’d never play again.

“Jungkook, you gotta make your move in the next five seconds or else you’re out,” Jisoo warns.

He panics and shifts his foot farther out than he meant to, holding onto Y/N’s hips as his balance gives out and thanking whatever god is out there that Y/N can’t see the disgustingly bright pink hue dusting his cheeks with her ass so close to his crotch.

“You’re gonna make me fall!” Y/N complains, teetering forward. He tightens his grip on her hips and pulls her back ever so slightly. Hopefully he won’t get a boner. Gods, that would be embarrassing.

“Just—focus on your next move!” he half-yells, mouthing a curse at Hoseok, who was knocked out almost five minutes ago and is now standing smugly off to the side trying to contain his laughter. Asshole.

“Stupid game,” Y/N grumbles under her breath, her arms shaking.

“Left hand, red,” Jisoo announces.

Y/N grunts as she moves her hand closer to her body, unintentionally pressing into Jungkook. He bites down on his tongue and focuses on his breathing as blood rushes to his cheeks.

Yoongi huffs as he crouches and sets his hand on the red circle closest to him, grinning up at them with a dark look. “It’s over for you,” he taunts.

“Alright, Kook. Left hand, green,” Jisoo says.

Jungkook crouches down and sets his hand behind him, making eye contact with Y/N for the first time in almost ten minutes straight. “Next time—“

Y/N gets cut off with a yelp as, on their next turn, Yoongi bumps into her and sends her falling back into Jungkook’s lap. He groans, his hands shaking with the effort to keep himself up.

“Asshole! You pushed me!” Y/N yells, her ears turning red with rage as she pushes herself off Jungkook, about to angrily rush Yoongi when Hoseok picks her up around the waist and holds her off to the side with an arm around her shoulders.

“Now-now, kids, no fighting,” he teases.

“Beat his ass, Kook!” Y/N says in response, glaring at Yoongi.

Yoongi rolls his eyes as the game continues. The longer Jungkook has to play, the more tired he becomes—holding weird positions for long periods of time is surprisingly taxing. Just when he thinks he’s going to give out, Yoongi’s sweaty hands slide to the side and he ends up falling over, ass in the air.

Y/N squeals with excitement and rushes Jungkook as he stands up to his full height, massaging his lower back with a grimace. He oofs as she slams into him, her arms around his neck. He blushes and hides his face in her shoulder, trying to subtly breathe in her scent as she drops down before excitedly smacking him on his arm.

He smiles down at her and avoids looking at Hoseok (who he’s sure is having his own little mini-celebration) as Yoongi sighs as he stands up. “Well played,” he grumbles.

Y/N grins triumphantly, but holds her hand out for him to shake. “Good game.” Yoongi hesitates, but takes her hand. Y/N grins. “How does it feel losing to a human?”

“Gods have mercy…”

<- prev | next ->

#bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts a/b/o au #a/b/o au #bts a/b/o #shifter au #shifter jungkook #bts werewolf au #werewolf au #werewolf jungkook #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts angst #jungkook angst #ao3 #archive of our own

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orphicrose · 8 months ago

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The Co-Host (Alastor x FemReader) VIIII

< >

Summary: You are Alastors Co host in life, perhaps more. But are separated by a sudden death. When you are finally reunited in the under world, it is up to Alastor to figure out why you don’t remember him.

Warnings ! ! Mentions of SA! Death and Bl00D

Note : I've had a bad fever for almost a week now, but i am better and I promise I haven't ignored you're requests! Working on them as soon as this is posted.

@cannibalcoyote @kahlan170 @sugxryratz @multifandom-superlover @t0xic1vi @saccharine-nectarine

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

Y/n didn't know what to do with herself, she was left with more questions than answers. From what she could put together, her and Alastor were colleagues and perhaps lovers in life. But her death sent him into a spiral. Perhaps a murderer. But neither of them know why she is down here. Y/n always assumed it was to do with making a deal with the devil. But she wasn't sure anymore. Everything was a mess. Yet, something was pulling her closer to Alastor. She needed him, his company. Like their atoms were magnetic towards each other.

"I need to remember..." she thought to herself, staring at the ceiling of her bedroom. "But how?"

Knowing her, she would have left some sort of off switch. A backup plan for if things went wrong. Something that would jumpstart her memory. Like the leaflet, but that was too weak. What else? "Jumper!" She shouted. In the memory, she had taken a few of Als jumpers. Perhaps they were lying around somewhere. Digging through her large wardrobe, she found nothing. Clothes scattering her bed and floor. She grunted in frustration, kicking her wardrobe then immediately regretting it. Holding her foot and hopping on one leg till she eventually fell over.

Y/n felt hopeless on the floor, eyes following a shadow around the room as street lights flickered through her curtains. A crack in her painting on the wall caught her attention. It was off. Her hopes raised as she jumped towards it, lifting it to find a hole in the wall. "Y/n, you're a genius" She mumbled, rummaging around the hole to find a wooden box.

Nothing particularly useful inside, though. Documents that Satan had given to her when they first started working together that she never wanted to see again. As she rummaged through, a photo fell from one of the pages. A polaroid. Her heart skipped a beat. Remembering that a photo was taken in the memory, as well. "This is it... i guess"

Her eyes sealed shut as she bent over to pick the photo from the floor. Turning it to see the two of them, as humans, in a loving embrace. Dressed in stunning outfits, as if they were at some sort of party.

The party was the first memory to come back, then little memories surrounding their job, then the first time they met. Before she knew it, everything slotted into place. The good and the bad. The reasons she was down here, the reasons she blasted her memory from existence. And, him. Her feelings hit her like a brick, emotions too much to handle.

Her Alastor was down here, the sweet man that built her into the person she is today. Sure he had some issues, but now they had an eternity to sort them out. But how could he ever forgive her, after what she did to him.

"Breaking news, Co-host of Alastor's broadcast found dead near Louisiana swamps" Was the headline of the newspaper that day. After this heartbreaking news was released, some speculated Alastor was the murderer, considering he was the last one to see his Co-host alive. But after autopsies and thorough investigation, his name was cleared. The real killer getting away with their sins. The true story buried forever.

Y/n sat in her small room in her studio apartment that she could barely afford, reading the headline. Knowing she had gotten away with it. Regret and guilt still circulating her mind, even after the news was blaming her victims partner. But she did what she had to do.

A week prior, y/n had an encounter with the radio presenter. Not Alastor, his partner. A bitter man he was, selfish and righteous. He owned many speakeasies along the coast, everything being a money grab. Even the radio show, an excuse for publicity. Even with all those facts considered, y/n still didn't mean to kill him. She had bumped into him on the way home late that night, tripping him over.

"Oh my, sir. I am so so sor-"

"Shut up you little rat" He climbed to his feet, dusting off the little dirt on his blazer. "I'll have my way with you for that"

Y/n sensed the danger and began running the opposite direction, fearing for her life. The man closely behind her. She didn't even make it ten steps away before hands clamped around her neck. Her mind had blanked out completely from that point. Coming to when his body writhed beneath her grip, crimson trickling from his neck like a bloody waterfall. He got what was coming to him, but that didn't make the guilt ease. His body letting out his last breath as the now lifeless corpse lay idle, illuminated by the dim street lights in the night. The shard of glass in her hand was carried with her, unknowingly, her whole journey home. Hiding it under some paper in her bin when she realized. What else was she to do?

She murdered Alastor's friend. Not out of cold blood. But would he see it like that?

"I don't care what you did" Played in her head from a few hours prior. He knew what she did, surely. He seemed as if he did for him to reassure her with those words. It's not like she particularly had anything to lose in this moment, anyway. Without a second thought, her body ached for him. For his acknowledgement, for his touch. She found herself running out her house, letting her mind go blank. For the first time in her life in hell, she voluntarily used her gifts. Turning into mist under pavement and reappearing at the doorstep of the radio demons radio tower.

"What are you doing here?" His eyes scanned the woman in front of him in the doorway of his broadcasting room. Standing from his seat at the sound board. She said nothing, closing in on him and taking no time to let their lips meet. Hands finding their way to his hair with soft scratches.

His eyes widened, not daring to move. Incase she stopped. He reciprocated after a second, his microphone dropping to the floor to free up his own hand. Landing on her waist and pulling her closer to his body.

It felt as if an eternity passed, old feeling mixed with current frustrations and sadness. When they pulled back to finally see each others eyes, Alastor couldn't hold back the tears he had been suppressing for years now. Never really coming to terms with her death. But she was here, all of here was here. Staring back at him with the loving eyes she had oh so many years ago.

"Do you..-"

"Remember?" She half laughed through the tears she shared with him. Feeling his thumb brush them away from her face. A genuine smile creeping onto his.

"How?" His fingers found themself tracing patterns along the softness of her cheeks. Something she felt familiar with. Something he used to do when she was asleep next to him, and he would watch the calmness of her face. Entranced. Feeling a need to protect her in such a vulnerable state.

She shrugged, not wanting to talk anymore about it. She just wanted to take him in, breath in his air and be with him. Finally. Not needing an answer, he pulled her in by the waist to plant another loving kiss on her lips. Being careful as to not dig his fingers into her flesh. They stood like that, for minutes. Peppering each other with affectionate touches and kisses. Catching up on how many they had lost.

"I suppose we have a lot to talk about" Alastor pulled away, pulling her backwards as he perched himself onto a chair. Holding her hands in his as he stared up to her.

"We have an eternity to discuss it, my darling" she moved to sit on his lap, not being close enough to his heart beat.

"You do know who i am, yes?"

"Alastor, I knew who you were before i erased my memory"

He stared at her, bewildered, eyes moving between hers. "Is that why you..?"

"No. Well, it was a shock. But I'm no saint either. I couldn't bare the knowledge that I am the reason I'm down here, and that I would be the reason you'd fall too. There's so many excuses I could give you, Alastor. But the main truth is that I wasn't strong enough to hold that information with me forever."

He stayed quite, sensing more to the story. But it wasn't important anymore. She accepted him for both sides of his life, and he accepted her. What more could he need. Validation had been given and his ears perked up. He put a hand to her face to make her look at him. Smiling so genuinely now.

"It's ok, darling." he nodded. ""I meant what i said before. I don't care why you're down here. I just care that we get a fresh start together."

A beautiful feeling surrounded the two of them, falling into the bliss of each others company as everything was let out into the light. No more secrets, no more being alone. But there was still the issue of their souls not being in their bodied, surely that won't affect their affection to one another, right?

Bright yellow hues interrupted their confessions, as a strong gravity began to pull them away from each other.

"Al? What's happening?" Y/n clung to his neck as something whirred her from his grasp. A magnet pulling her back into some sort of portal that had flung open behind her.

"I'm. I don't know, Don't let go" His nails dipped into the flesh on her arm, holding onto her as if she was being taken away from him again. But the force was to great. Her body flung into the vortex with a screech as she cried for her love to save her never ending lose ends. He was left in silence once again, the portal closing before he could reach it.

Rage filled his body, replacing his lust. Surging through his veins like some sort of adrenaline booster. "Satan...."

In an abandoned office block, y/n had been spat out the portal like a piece of chewed up gum. Landing not to gracefully on the floor, looking up to see her boss's anger. "What did we say about distractions?"

#fanfiction #x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin alastor #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel #alastor fluff #alastor imagine #alastor angst #reader x hazbin hotel #alastor

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kotton-kandy953 · 3 months ago

Text

━ 𝙻𝚄𝙲𝙺𝚈 𝙼𝙴

➛ yandere!nagito k. x fem!reader

title page┆word count: 714┆warnings: none┆a/n: not thoroughly proofread btw. the prologue can be skipped if you do not want to read it. I only wrote it for context reasons !

❝ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ, ɪ'ᴍ ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ ❞

╰⋯➤ saccharine — jazmin bean

PROLOGUE ━ SCHOOL TRIP ?

⤷ 𝖄𝖔𝖚

were completely shocked by the information just dumped onto you and the 16 other students.

For context reasons, I have to explain what has happened in the last few hours.

Today was supposed to be your first day of School at Hope's Peak Academy as the Ultimate High-school level Digital Artist.

But to everyone's dismay, some pink stuffed bunny named "Usami," who proclaimed to be your teacher, explained that you and a bunch of high schoolers you've never met are forced to go an a "heart-throbbing school trip" in this strange tropical paradise.

After she finished explaining that you all needed to collect hope fragments and get along, everyone just went their separate ways, you included.

You were about to go into the lobby of the hotel when a hand suddenly rested on your shoulder. You let out a sigh before turning around.

There were two taller males standing in front of you. One was skinner with pale, almost white skin. He had white hair and tips that faded into a pale brown.

The other had tanner skin, green eyes and spiky short hair. He was the last person to enter the classroom earlier.

"U- uh... hi...?" You asked awkwardly, not really wanting to indulge in conversation at the moment.

The white haired male smiled, "Sorry to bother you... L/n, is it?"

How did he-

"I'm Nagito Komaeda, the Ultimate Lucky Student. I know, a worthless talent, huh? I won't blame you if you ever forgot it"

His brown haired companion awkwardly broke the weird tension Nagito had put in the atmosphere.

"I'm Hajime Hinata, nice to meet you." He cleared his throat, "And I don't really... remeber my talent..." he trailed off.

"It's okay if you don't remember it, a lot has happened in the past hour." You smiled reassuringly, making Hajime smile back.

But Nagito smiled even bigger, "I should've known you'd say something like that! As expected from such a hopeful Ultimate as yourself!"

"Uh... thanks? I’m Y/n L/n, the Ultimate Digital Artist.”

After that... odd... conversation with the two, Usami suddenly came onto the nearest monitor and announced to everyone that they needed to go to the beach.

"Are you going, L/n?" Hajime asked after glancing over at Nagito.

"Do we really have a choice?" You responded.

Once the bathing suits were distributed and your classmates started to get in the water, you stood by Hajime, who also didn't want to join the others.

"You're not going with them?" You asked curiously.

He shook his head, "No, I don't want to..."

That was until he heard Usami's "encouraging" words and ran to go get a swimsuit.

Then, you were alone.

"Maybe I should—" before you could finish your thought, the sky grew grey with dark storm clouds. And the monitors blinked on and a strange, laidback, high-pitched voice rang out.

"Mic check... mic check... can you hear me?" Everyone froze at the strange change of atmosphere.

"Now then, sorry to keep you all waiting for so long. Let's leave all this worthless entertainment behind...

It's time for the main attraction! You guys better hustle over to Jabberwock Park!"

And that's what you all did, despite their oddly playful voice, it has a very threatening undertone that sent a shiver down your spine.

Once at said park, a half-white half-black stuffed bear appeared out of the blue and became know as "Monokuma" in a rather... extravagant way.

Next, the stuffed bear quite literally violated Usami and transformed her into Monomi, his "younger sister."

Then finally, he explained to you all that one must get away with murder to leave the island.

When he began listing the many ways to end a person's life, you froze in fear and shock.

'M- murder...?' you thought, no, there's no way this is real...

Noticing your unease, Nagito made his way over to you and rested his hand onto your shoulder. He gave you a smile that was supposed to calm your nerves but it only did the opposite.

“Don’t touch me, please.”

back to title page┆proceed to chapter one┆partially proofread

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heyiwrotesomethings · 2 years ago

Note

Hi hi i hope im not lateee. Since you know chainsaw man and you're caught up in the manga, may i request makima with an F!reader? Im thinking of a scenario like makima controls everything except her s/o idk idk smth to do with that. Thankyouu and have a nice day!

Out of Her Control

Makima x She/Her Reader

A/N: I wasn’t sure where I should have gone with this one so it’s mostly snippets of before they got together and then ending with them as a couple. It’s mostly me trying to figure out how Makima would act if she had feelings for someone. I’m pretty sure everyone should know that something is off about Makima by now, but if you haven’t read the manga yet, probably skip for now just to be safe. Thanks for the request, hope you like it! Word Count: 3,564

Humans were just too easy to manipulate, to bend this way and that. More often than not, Makima could get what she wanted without using the full extent of her power, sometimes she didn’t even have to use it at all. And as much as she loved humans and their amusing little moral nuances and loyalties, it could be rather dull leading them on a leash, there was no challenge.

When Makima was informed of a few prospective team members applying to join her division of the Public Safety Commission, she scanned over their files and résumés as if paging through summaries of animals looking for their forever homes. She let out a disappointed hum, unsure if any of them were worth taking under her wing.

She would give them all a job, of course she would. Devil Hunters came and went as surely as the tides changed each day. They needed all the bodies they could get, but Makima definitely played favorites when it suited her.

Perhaps she’d get a clearer idea once they began their new profession, but she wasn’t holding her breath.

And for the most part, the new recruits were exactly as she imagined them to be, people pleasers, Makima pleasers, to be specific. Always doing as she asked without another thought in their heads. Reasonable people would say it was because of her senior standing among most Devil Hunters, but Makima knew better. If any other senior Devil Hunter sent one of their juniors off on a thinly veiled death march, they would not be half as successful in getting what they asked for.

“And that is how we will take down the devil in position of this sizable piece of the Gun Devil. Any questions? Concerns?” Makima asked with a overtly saccharine smile. She expected no resistance, but she always asked anyway, an illusion of choice. She inhaled to speak again, to dismiss the small group to what would likely be their last job, but an important one nonetheless.

But then a little ways across the table, a woman loosely raised her hand from where it had sat over crossed arms, without waiting to be acknowledged, she spoke,

“Miss Makima, I do have concerns. This plan will undoubtedly lead us all to an early grave.”

The rest of the table cast the woman dirty looks and grumbled under their shared breaths, judging the woman for not only questioning Makima’s plan, but even going as far to say that it would fail them so spectacularly. Makima subtly grinned.

“Ah, Miss…” Makima trailed off, she hadn’t bothered memorizing any of their names in the three weeks since they had arrived. If she had been anyone else, she might have been embarrassed by that now.

“(Y/n).” The woman supplied, her eyes narrowed and her eyebrows angled ever so slightly downward, conveying a mild annoyance that made Makima’s own eyes light up in response. No one ever looked at her with even the smallest hint of disapproval, wariness, sure, but never disapproval. Unless you maybe counted Kishibe, but he had been in the business forever so it was to be expected from him.

“(Y/n),” Makima tested the name on her tongue, “please do share what you mean.”

The other juniors in the room jumped in before (Y/n) could say a word, assuring Makima that her plan was perfectly acceptable and that they could handle everything just fine.

Makima raised her hand, motioning the group to quiet, which they did almost immediately. No different from her dogs at home, really.

“There is no need to become so defensive on my behalf, we are all working towards the same goal and have humanity’s best interests at heart. I would be remiss if I didn’t take the thoughts of others into account before possibly making a grave miscalculation. So that being said,” Makima’s eyes found (Y/n)’s again, “the floor is yours, (Y/n).”

“Thanks, anyway,” (Y/n) pushed her office chair away from the conference table and strode over to the city map projected on the wall near where Makima stood.

Her peers shot her questioning and displeased looks as she went. Makima stepped back to give her room, hands clasped behind her back, waiting, intrigued.

“This route makes no tactical sense,” (Y/n) pointed out, “It would bring too much attention to us if we were all grouped up like this. The devil would see us coming and with its Gun Devil enhanced power, it would wipe us out in a single attack. I strongly suggest…”

(Y/n) went on to mark three separate routes on the map and even went on to share the strengths of each individual in the room and who should be paired off and take which route.

“…Finally, if all goes smoothly, we should all converge near this point, and take care of the devil then,” (Y/n) looked over to Makima who’s face still wore a ghostly smile, “Of course I’m open to more discussion, but if you insist on your initial plan Miss Makima, then you can count me out.”

A few strangled sounds of disbelief littered the room, but Makima simply tilted her head to the side, eyes boring into (Y/n)‘s.

“You would quit?”

“Perhaps. Private Sector makes more money anyway. And despite my clear lack of popularity with my coworkers’ at present, I would rather them not die if it can be helped. What do you say?”

Makima chuckled at that, leaning into (Y/n)’s personal space. (Y/n) didn’t fluster nor back away, but she did raise an expectant eyebrow, a curious expression visible as she waited for Makima’s denial or approval of her idea.

She had Makima’s approval alright, in more ways than one.

“Very well,” Makima nodded, unblinking, “let’s give it a try.”

***

(Y/n) stared down bitterly at the graves long after the service had concluded. Then she heard a rumble roll across the sky accompanied by the rustling of grass and approaching footsteps. The dark shadow of an umbrella fell over her head and a long, black coat came into her periphery as the first drops of rain began to fall around them.

“Would it really have killed them to listen to me?” (Y/n) murmured without thinking.

“It certainly killed them not to listen.” Makima provided, tone neither one of mirth nor despair, simply apathetic. “For what it’s worth, I thought your plan was better. At least their sacrifices hadn’t been for nothing.”

“I suppose.” (Y/n) sighed wearily.

When the day of the mission had arrived, (Y/n)‘s stubborn peers acted on the original plan detailed by Makima. (Y/n) had linked up with some of the senior hunters from another unit and together they killed the devil and retrieved the fragment of the Gun Devil that it had coveted, but not before a good chunk of the city block had been destroyed. Several civilians as well as her peers littered the street crushed and mangled.

“The rain is getting stronger,” Makima noted, twisting the umbrella that hung over their heads, “I’d like to invite you to my home. I’ll make you something warm to eat and we can drink our sorrows away.” Allow me learn what makes you tick.

(Y/n) surprisingly shook her head, “I appreciate the offer Miss Makima, but I need time to reflect on my own I think.”

Makima’s lips parted, a honeyed insistence already on her tongue, but then she stopped herself, a small smile painting her lips instead.

“I understand. Perhaps another time then.”

“Sure. Well,” (Y/n) paused awkwardly, then flicked up the hood of her coat, “see you Monday.”

“Monday,” Makima confirmed.

She made a move to press her umbrella into (Y/n)’s hands, but she was waved off as soon as their hands touched, (Y/n) thanked her anyway but she had still denied the silent offer, order? Makima watched on as (Y/n) walked briskly out of the cemetery, a taxi already waiting for her to climb into it.

Makima watched the car roll off before starting to walk to her own. She could have easily persuaded (Y/n) to join her, but she found it much more compelling to let the chips fall where they may, for now at least. It was rather exciting.

***

Makima never used her power on (Y/n). A self-imposed rule. That didn’t mean she didn’t have little eyes and ears on her almost constantly. She enjoyed checking in on the unsuspecting Devil Hunter, watching what she did when she wasn’t working. It seemed silly, but Makima felt like she might have been falling for the young woman.

Perhaps it was an unhealthy amount of self-confidence provided by her constant stream of admirers, but she couldn’t have been more surprised when (Y/n) politely declined her proposition. It wasn’t obvious, the biggest hint of her bafflement being two blinks in rapid succession.

“I’m sorry Miss Makima, I just don’t think it would be appropriate for the workplace. Not to mention how dangerous this job is. It’s not a good idea to get too attached to anyone here. I learned that pretty quickly…”

Makima squeezed her hands behind her back, reminding herself that (Y/n)’s will, free from her own, was what drew her to her in the first place. Besides, who really knew what the future would hold for them.

“No need to apologize, I understand your concerns. However, if you ever change your mind, I’ll be here.”

(Y/n) shook her head, a sympathetic smile on her face, “Don’t wait for me, Miss Makima, you do deserve to be happy with someone, but it probably isn’t going to be me.” Then she left Makima’s office, closing the door quietly behind her.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Makima leaned back in her chair, smiling to herself.

She was still committed to not using her influence, and she was confident that she wouldn’t need it. She’s seen many questionable human couples, if they could stumble into a courtship, she certainly could. She would just need to be patient and drop subtle reminders of her availability.

One might argue how Makima studied (Y/n) so thoroughly to know exactly what to say and do to get her heart pounding would be just another form of manipulation, but Makima would say that this way took a lot of time and effort and was much more heartfelt. In fact, as the months stretched on and the longer it took to win (Y/n)’s favor, the more Makima felt for her.

It had been a particularly hard day for (Y/n) when she had gone to Makima asking if she wanted to go out for drinks. She had grown out of the rookie position by simply surviving a few months and had been assigned a couple juniors of her own to look after. They had went as quickly as they had came, but it still weighed on her.

Makima made sure not to seem too eager. She would be a shoulder to lean on, but anything (Y/n) wanted, she could have it if she went for it. Truly not knowing where the night would go, excited her.

Makima ushered (Y/n) into her car and took her to a restaurant she had remembered her mentioning in passing as one of her favorites. They got a cozy little booth in the corner. The ordered their meals and drinks and quietly conversed, letting the warmth of the room and the gentle clinks of of cups and chopsticks against ceramic.

It was the most loose Makima had witnessed (Y/n), she had a couple drinks, but she wasn’t drunk by any means. Maybe a little tipsy at most, but her smile looked more genuine than it ever did at work, and she sounded so relaxed, she even laughed! But then she began hiding yawns behind her hand and final calls could be heard from the bar. It was getting late.

Makima hated the thought of having to drive (Y/n) home. She never wanted to let her go for even a moment, but that wasn’t her choice to make. How irksome it was to play by the rules of a game she had created. A game that only she was aware she was playing.

Makima scooped up the check an paid for everything before (Y/n) could even think about reaching into her coat pocket.

“Hey, I’m the one who invited you out. What do I owe you?” (Y/n) asked, cracking open her wallet.

Makima reached over the table and put her hand on (Y/n)’s to stop the motion.

“You owe nothing. It’s been difficult for you these last few weeks.”

Makima noticed a look of gentle longing, but it left as quickly as it came when another yawn passed (Y/n)’s lips.

“Let’s get you home.”

Makima ushered (Y/n) outside and into the passenger seat of her sleek black car before maneuvering around to get in herself. The ride was quiet save for the ac blowing a constant stream of warm air to offset the chill of the night. When Makima parked the car outside of (Y/n)’s apartment complex, she turned to smile at her and waited for her to unbuckle her seatbelt, but instead she just sat there, looking pensive.

“What is on your mind, (Y/n)?” She asked, inching her hand over the center console while she debated if it would be a good idea to touch her or not.

(Y/n) leaded back against the car door, halting the slow journey Makima’s hand had been making. (Y/n) bit her inner cheek and looked out upon the streetlights casting the sidewalk in a yellowish glow.

“I think I’m failing for you.”

Makima’s eyes lit up with an excited gleam, but still she left the decision of what would happen next up to (Y/n).

“What will you do about it?”

(Y/n) leaned over the center console, her hand resting atop Makima’s. She leaned in further still until her lips found Makima’s. It took a lot of control on Makima’s part to not chase her when she pulled away too soon for her liking.

“Was that okay? I’m sorry, I know you said you liked me, but that was awhile ago and I still should have asked first.”

“It was fine,” Makima assured, “No need to apologize.”

“…Just fine?” (Y/n) asked, almost incredulously.

“Could have been longer,” Makima smirked.

“Well, I could rectify that, if it’s okay with you.”

Makima was more than okay with it, she had been waiting for a development like this for what felt like ages. The longer they continued to kiss in her car, the more she began to wonder,

“What made you change your mind about us being together? I recall you not finding workplace relationships favorable.”

“That’s true,” (Y/n) agreed, between trying to catch her breath, “But I decided after attending my third junior’s funeral that I’m done with devil hunting. I’m quitting. I did leave the resignation paperwork on your desk last week, did you not notice it?”

(Y/n), leaving Public Safety? That would make watching her so much more difficult, limit their time together drastically. This both annoyed and exhilarated Makima because she could not have foreseen her making a choice like this. She would not have had her make a decision like this. It was almost enough to make Makima use a bit of persuasion to have (Y/n) sleep on that decision and think it over, but she couldn’t. A (Y/n) under her control was not really her (Y/n) at all, oddly enough.

“I guess I was too busy admiring you, to think about what you were there for.”

“Ever the charmer,” (Y/n) unbuckled her seatbelt, “Well… you have my number, let me know when you get home safe and then maybe we could exchange schedules for next week?”

“You already have a new job?”

“Family Burger,” (Y/n) groaned, “Just until I finish the degree I left hanging. I hope.”

“I guess I know where I will be getting lunch for the foreseeable future then.”

“You cannot eat Family Burger everyday, It’ll kill you!” (Y/n) laughed.

“It would take a lot more than a a little grease to kill me.” Makima grinned, maybe (Y/n) would learn that someday.

“Trust me, it would be more than a little grease. But I wouldn’t be opposed if you came by every once in awhile.”

“It’s a date.”

“No way! I’m gonna take you on a real nice date the next time our schedules sync. Mark my words!” (Y/n) promised. She pressed a quick kiss against Makima’s cheek, then opened the car door to let herself out.

“Good night, Makima.”

“Good night.”

Makima watched (Y/n) wave to her from the door and when she walked inside and shut the door behind her, Makima drove home. She was sure to text (Y/n) of her safe arrival as soon as the dogs stopped jumping all over her.

They texted back and forth for a bit, sharing possible times to meet up, and then Makima decided to take a shower before getting into bed. She stared up at the dark ceiling, going over the night’s events in her mind.

It all felt so very peculiar. Makima wasn’t quite sure she had ever felt so many emotions in such a short time. (Y/n) appeared to return her affections, she kissed her. Multiple times. She only wished (Y/n) would stay with Public Safety. It was something that she could easily remedy, but she had restrained herself yet again. Though Makima wondered if she would be able to continue that trend if she had reason to believe that (Y/n) could be in danger. It was easier to look out for her when they worked together. She may have the birds and rats to keep an eye on her, but the proximity was stretched much too thin for her liking.

Hopefully the next steps in their relationship would follow quickly now that the ball was finally rolling. She wanted to come home to see (Y/n) curled up with her dogs in the worst way.

“Soon,” she promised herself, “soon.”

***

The day did come when (Y/n) suggested moving in somewhere together. It took longer than Makima would have liked to get to that point, but at least it was finally happening. She would have liked to have a talk with whomever gave her the impression that it was customary that women moved in together on the second date. It would have humiliated even Makima if (Y/n) had known she came to pick her up with her trunk full of collapsed boxes to help her move, only to learn they were going to the aquarium.

“Awww, this is the sea lion plush I got you when we went to the aquarium, isn’t it? We should go again sometime soon.” (Y/n) smiled, placing the stuffed animal back on the bed.

Makima nodded in agreement. Despite her initial disappointment, she did have a good time and she did like the sea lion (Y/n) had gifted her. They’re like the dogs of the ocean. Makima never really understood the novelty of such toys, but she had to admit there was something desirable about this one at the very least.

After hanging the rest of (Y/n)’s clothes in the closet, they heard a few whines and a pawing at the door. The dogs had been shut out to keep them out of the way as they unpacked (Y/n)’s belongings.

“The sweet babies,” (Y/n) chuckled, “so lonely.”

“They are simply excited about your indefinite stay, as am I.”

(Y/n) walked around the bed to hug Makima, melting when the embrace was returned.

“Me too. Should we let them in now?”

“Only if you are ready to be buried in seven heavy, wiggly, fluffy dogs.”

“Oh, I think all the other times I came over to visit prepared me for this moment.”

“Fair enough.” Makima smirked at (Y/n) over her shoulder before releasing the dogs upon her.

“Nooo!” (Y/n) laughed.

She was immediately overwhelmed and shoved to the ground. Wagging tails and slobbery tongues hitting her from all sides.

“Makima,” she wheezed, “Help!”

“I thought you said you were prepared?”

“I was wrong!”

“Sit.” Makima ordered. Her voice was soft, but the dogs listened without delay, each looking up at her expectantly. Makima made a quick motion with her hand and the dogs stampeded out of the bedroom.

“Thank you, my hero.” (Y/n) reached her hand up towards Makima, while still laying flat on the floor.

“You’re very welcome,” Makima reached further than (Y/n)’s hand, instead grasping her above her elbow to pull her up so they stood chest to chest. “Is this better?”

“Much.” (Y/n) clung to Makima again, smiling contently.

“So affectionate today,” Makima teased, though she was being just as touchy.

“I would argue I’m always affectionate with you, but I am especially happy right now,” she nuzzled Makima’s jaw, planting a quick kiss against her skin, “I love you.”

It wasn’t the first time (Y/n) had told her so, but the effect was always the same. A warm feeling in Makima’s chest like a warm summer afternoon always bubbled up. It felt so strange, but she enjoyed it.

“And I you.” Makima cupped (Y/n)’s face in her hands. Her stare was as intense as it was tender. She wasn’t sure she had ever been quite as close to happiness as she was right in that moment.

That something out of her control could love her, would choose to love her, it was euphoric.

#chainsaw man oneshots #chainsaw man x reader #csm oneshots #csm x reader #csm makima x reader #makima x reader #requests #anonymous

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sarawritestories · 8 months ago

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Unwavering Presence Chapter 9

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Cassian notices that Y/N skipped training after their night at Rita's. The group heads to the human realms and Y/N reunites with old friends...

Content Warning: Familial trauma/drama, degradation (Consensual), power imbalance, slight fat shaming, so much angst, mentions of death, Nesta being absolutely cruel. Foot stuff (Its quick I promise).

Word Count 4.5k

A/N: The sneak peak I put up for this chapter got cut and is getting moved to chapter 10 because I decided to end this chapter very differently.

Unwavering Masterlist Chapter 8 ACOTAR Masterlist

Feyre and Rhys left early the next day and I didn’t feel the need to get up for training. I laid in my bed reading my book when there was a knock on my door, “Come in.”

The door creaking open, and Cassian walked in, I glance up to see him in his leathers, “Your sister left with Rhys to go see the weaver.” He leaned against the door frame, and I made an effort to not watch his biceps contort in his uniform. He smirked and flexed his arm, and I rolled my eyes.

My gaze fell back over my book, and I flipped the page, “You know I don’t know the significance of that. I’m sure Rhys or Feyre will tell me what they’re up to. Why are you here?” I hadn’t meant for there to be a bite in my voice.

“You didn’t come to training.” His tone was soft, and I fought my instinct to look up at him, “I wanted to make sure you were, okay?”

The sound of the page turning was the only noise in my room for a moment, I sighed and closed my book, “Yesterday was a lot.” I looked at him and shrugged, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Cassian remained silent, he moved to my armoire and my gaze shifted below to and took out my leathers and plopped them on the end of my bed. “Get dressed.”

“Cassian, I’m not in the mood.”

Cassian crossed his arms, “Tough.” The voice of a general talking to his subordinate, “We’re not training, we’re sparring. I expect you downstairs in five minutes.”

I crossed my arms, “What if I don’t come down?”

Cassian walked to the door, he turned back to me with a smirk, “I wouldn’t recommend it, you may not like what happens if you don’t.” He walked away, closing the door behind him. I glared at the door hoping the look seared into his back. I kicked the leathers of the bed and let myself lay back and let sleep consume me.

Cold water collided with my face shocking me up and out of my bed. Cassian stood in front of me with a bucket in his hand a cocky smile on his lips. The cold began to seep into my bones I had to clamp my teeth down to keep from chattering, “What was that for?”

Cassian bent down to pick up the leathers and pressed them into my chest focusing on my eyes and not the fact that my nipples had hardened from the cold and peeking out through my silk nightgown, “I gave you 10 minutes to come down, that was five extra minutes, and you still didn’t come down.”

I bared my teeth at him, and he only chuckled as if he wasn’t threatened by me, this male had seen the worst of humanity, went toe to toe with those people, I bet I barely posed as a threat to him. “I told you I don’t want to train.”

Cassian leaned down to my eye level the smile still lingering and his eyes gleamed with a challenge, “And I told you we’re not training, we’re sparring.” He rose back to his full height as his face softened. “Look, sometimes words don’t help, but you have energy and pent-up things you need to get out. Lucky for you I know someone who can take that on.”

I sighed, annoyed that he was right. I felt the water dripping from my hair and an idea formed in my head, I gave him a saccharine smile, “Alright, Cassie,” I purred as he tilted his head no doubt, confused by the nickname. I’ll give it a chance,” I took a step closer to him, and I could see his neck work as he swallowed. “I am going to need to dry off first.” I shake my head, letting the loose drops of water fly, spraying him in the process.

Cassian took a step back, laughing as the water landed on his skin and his leathers. Once I stopped, I grinned at him satisfied with my work, the hurt of his rejection the night before fading away. “Your trouble, Princess, you know that?” His voice was warm and made the butterflies in my stomach flutter.

Trying to ease those flutters, I shrugged, feigning calm and collected, “I’ll list it right under bad listener.” He laughed again and the sound was so joyous that a part of me would kill anyone who tried to take his joy away. I pressed my hand on his chest and could feel his heartbeat speed up. “Go on, General, I’ll be down in a minute.”

“I’ll have another bucket ready just in case.” He winked and walked out once more, leaving me to change.

I met him in the backyard of the town house Cassian’s back was to me his wings relaxed the leather pants covering his ass perfectly. “I can feel you staring.” Cassian’s voice made me jump. He turned to her with a knowing look on her face, “Enjoying the view.”

I crossed my arms and pooped a hip out, “I see an asshole, who threw water on me to get out of bed, I’m not sure if enjoying the view is what I would call it.”

Cassian raised his hand and motioned two fingers, “Come here, Princess.”

I took a step toward him, my neck straining as I had to look up to him. He opened his palms out a silent command. I placed my hands in his and he led me over to the seat. Taking out some white wrappings and he began wrapping one of my hands. I stared at his face and how there is a wrinkle that peaks through when he concentrates. His lips form in a tight line as he ties off my one hand and begins the other. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, though you did just ask me a question.” He looks up at me through his lashes.

I laughed, “I suppose I did.”

His smile remained on his face, finishing up wrapping my hand. “What’s your question?”

“Did you always want to be a general?” I looked down and noticed that he was still holding my hand.

The little wrinkle returns as he thinks about the question. “No. I didn’t. I didn’t plan to be living the life I do now. When I was a child, I tried to make sure I survived the next day. I never allowed myself to dream of anything more. Not even when Rhys found me in my ratty tent.”

His eyes grew distant, and I pressed my hands against his cheek, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have pried.” His eyes met mine and that distant look disappeared as he twisted his head and lightly pressed his lips to the palm of my hand and my breath hitched.

“Don’t apologize, Princess. We can talk about my childhood at a later time. We’re focusing on you now.” He led me to the mat he had set up. He placed padded mittens on his hands. “Now remember what I taught you and just hit my pads as hard as you can.”

I held up my fist the way he showed me I didn’t move to throw a punch. “What if I hurt you?”

“I’ll live, Sweetheart. I’m not easily breakable.”

I glared, “And I am?”

“Did I say that? No. Now come on.” His voice was firm but still gentle. I threw the first punch, “Good again!” I punched the other hand. He keeps praising me and encourages me to go harder. “Now tell me what’s bothering you.”

Continuing my punches, the words tumbled out “I’m anxious about going back to the human realm and seeing my sisters. I’m terrified about this impending war.” The words kept pouring out, “I feel like I don’t belong anywhere. I’m terrified that when Feyre outlives me, she’s going to forget about me. That everyone here will forget me when I die.” I dropped my fists.

“Sweetheart,” Cassian started reaching out to me and I stepped out of reach. His face fell slightly.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered and before I could run to my room, Rhys and Feyre winnowed to the backyard and Feyre looked ready to throttle Rhysand as she walked inside. Refusing to meet Cassian’s gaze, I followed after Feyre.

I walked into her room, and she was flinging various objects around her room. “Feyre? What happened?”

My twin paused and looked at me, “He almost had me killed. The weaver almost killed me. For a stupid ring!”

I felt the familiar scrape against my shield. I let him in. You almost killed my sister for a ring?

That’s a bit dramatic. The ring was an object to test if the sentiment of like calls to like. The ring is also very sentimental to me.

In what way?

It was my mother’s.

Before I could say anything to him, he left my mind and I put my shield back up. “He is insufferable. How do you enjoy his company? He looked smug when I met him out like he was surprised I survive.”

“He is kind, Fey. Also did he look smug or was he proud because not only did you get the ring, but you also got out using the skills that him and Cassian have been teaching you.” I paused, “Also, despite what you believe he is lovely to stare at.” I give her a wink.

She paused and sat on the bed with an exasperated sigh, and I took a moment to look at my sister. Feyre has gained some of the weight back that she lost after we came back from Under the Mountain. She had been sleeping the dark circles that had stained under her eyes were gone. She was finally healing. I smiled happy that life was coming back into those eyes. “I guess he is quite beautiful. Don’t tell him I said it though. He would never let me live it down,” She smiled.

I snorted and then sadness overtook me at my confession to Cassian. One day she will be walking this world alone, when my mortality takes me to whatever comes after death. Would she miss me? Would she find happiness here and be able to simply move on. Our relationship was not perfect but when her neck snapped, I wasn’t sure I was going survive this life without her. Hopefully, Cassian, Azriel and Rhys will take care of her and make sure she lives when I’m gone.

Feyre slammed me into her chest. “Stop that.” Her face was wet with tears. “Just stop. My life would be nothing without you.”

I blinked and hugged her back, “What?” Had I said those things outside?

She pulled away quickly, “Nothing.” She wiped her tears. I sighed, “So you were fighting with Cassian?”

I nodded, “Yeah.”

“You spend a lot of time with him?”

Another nod, “Yup.”

Feyre raises an eyebrow, “I assume you enjoy his company?”

I laughed, “Feyre, just ask what you want to ask.”

“What’s going on between you two, her eyes went doe eyed with curiosity that it reminded me of Elain.

“We’re friends, he helps me train and we hang out sometimes. Is that why he almost kissed you last night?”

“How?” I asked I thought about who would tell her Azriel wouldn’t have said anything.”

“Mor.” we said in unison. We made eye contact and began laughing.

“I don’t know Fey, he seemed relieved that Mor stepped in. As if he was going to make a grave mistake. Though I enjoy his company, talking with him is easy.”

Feyre nods, “And quite handsome.”

I began to think about his warm hazel eyes and his morning stubble or his raven hair. “Handsome doesn’t begin to cover it.” I look over to Feyre and there is a gleam in her eye and a smirk playing on her lips. “What?”

“You got it bad.” I threw the closest pillow at her, and she caught with, with a cackle. The laughter fades and Feyre leaned her head on the headboard. “Rhys says we’re going to the human realm tomorrow. You, me, Rhys, Cassian and Azriel.”

Dread hit me. The idea of seeing Nesta and Elain made my skin crawl. “It’s going to be a shit show.”

Feyre’s face grimaced as she nodded. “Indeed.”

***

The next day the five of us approached the edge of the forest and the manor my sisters were staying in was in view. Rhys is the first to speak, “I’ll put the glamour on us until you give us the okay to come in.” Feyre nodded, dressed in a fine black chiffon dress with silver lining the dress. I opted for A Black satin gown off the shoulder gown, A blood red belt wrapped around the waist with a bow on the back -compliments to Rhysand- kohl lined my eyes and there was a sheen to my lips.

A hand wrapped around mind the red siphon gleaming from the sun peaking through the trees. “You’re nervous.” It wasn’t a question.

“What makes you say that?” I questioned.

“You’ve been wringing your hands and tearing at your nails since we crossed the border. You were fidgeting in my arms the whole flight here.” He gave my hand a comforting squeeze. “A lot has happened since you last seen them it’s okay to feel these feelings.”

“Thanks, Cassian.” I smiled up at him and with the illumination of the sun behind him he looked like a deity.

He smiled back a full grin this time and kissed the top of my hand. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?”

My hear rate sped up and heat crawled to my cheeks. “I don’t think so.”

He smiles, “You look absolutely radiant, Princess.” He looked over to Feyre, “Now go, I’ll be right here should you need me.”

I nodded and I looked at Az and Rhys, Az gave a nod like he understood the challenges of visiting family, and Rhys gave a wink. I walked to Feyre, and we reached the front door, and I took a deep breath and felt the nice breeze and I could have sworn the scent of leather and sandalwood wafted through my nostrils and calmed me.

A maid had opened the door and her mouth fell, “The Archeron Twins,” She murmured in shock. She stepped out of the way for us to walk in. “Please follow me. Your sisters will be so pleased to see you.”

She walked us into a sitting room, Nesta sat on a lounge sofa reading a book, Her gray dress accentuated her curves, her face had a regal grace. Elain was in a chair working on some embroidery, in a pink tulle gown and her hair pinned halfway up with some flowers from her garden, no doubt. “Ladies, your sisters have come home.” The maid announced bowing and walking away from the foyer.

Our sisters’ heads snapped up. Nesta had a cool calculating stare assessing our attire and Elain’s face lit up with joy. She rose and ran, closing the space between us and pulling us both in her arms and I’m stunned by how tightly she hugged us. “Welcome!” She withdrew from the embrace and gripped out hands and Elain took note of the tattoos on our collar bones and the one on Feyre’s arm. “Those are beautiful.”

I smiled, Elain was always kind and always found beauty in everything. Her scent of wildflowers causes my eyes to water. “It’s good to see you, Elain.” Nesta rose and my eyes darted toward her, preparing myself for her to pounce if need be. She stuck her nose up as she approached every bit of the queen, she deemed she should be.

“I’m surprise you’re here.” Nesta said her standard Icy tone. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “I’m surprise you’re both alive.”

Feyre nodded, “We have a lot to tell you.”

Nesta held down a glare, “So speak.”

I was about to combat her command, but Feyre was the one to speak and she told them everything. Under the mountain, Tamlin sending me to my death, how he locked her up in the house, how we both ended up in the Night Court and all the details we know of the upcoming war.

“Why are you here?” Nesta asked not cutting corners and if she felt anyway of Feyre and I facing death she didn’t show it.

“We need you to open the manor to our friends. High Fae. They would like to have a meeting here with the Human Queens. However, they are stubborn gentlemen, who would like to ask you themselves and of course meet you and thank you for even consideration.” I said straightening my posture preparing myself for the verbal lashing.

“No.” Nesta said firmly not even looking at me. Here we go.

“What?”

“Elain gets married in a month to the Lord’s son. I will not risk this wedding for your silly war.”

“We should help.” Elain spoke up and we all turned to look at her. “Nesta, if the wall comes down, there may not be a wedding.”

I smiled to Elain as Nesta mumbled, “Fine, we’ll send the servants out for the next two days.”

I leaned closer to Elain, “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Elain smiled and showed her ring and Feyre, and I noticed the Iron ring adorned her finger, “His name is Graysen.”

I took a sharp breath, “Lord Graysenn?” I asked and Elain nodded enthusiastically and began going into the details of the wedding.

“Look at our good little maid, Xavier.” Graysen’s voice chuckled as I was on my knees the black dress uniforms his family required for me rising, my tongue grazing against the leather of his boot. Bits of mud and gravel getting into my mouth. “She is working so hard for her family.” He shoves his boot farther into my mouth and I begin to suck as he chuckled. “So hard, tell me what your siblings would say if they found out that you were drooling all over yourself just to make sure food was on the table.”

Muffled noises came from my mouth as drool dripped down to my cleavage that my uniform exposed.

Xavier petted my hair, “So good, maybe if she’s really good, I’ll give her those kisses she craves.” An involuntary moan came out of me, “Oh she likes that idea.” He chuckled. Hands were around my waist pulling me back, as Graysen pulled the boot from my mouth, and had me leaning against his firm chest, “Go ahead and swallow for us, pretty girl.” I did what I was told, and Xavier sang praises in my ear. “How lucky that you got this new maid, Graysen.” I looked at the man’s sharp blue eyes, his blonde hair pulled back in a bun. His thumb grazed my hip in swiping motions. Having been together for a few months his beauty and sharp features

Graysen smirked, “Yes indeed,” Graysen lifted my chin, “Do you like working for me Y/N?”

I nod, “I appreciate you offering me work.”

“Anything for my best friend’s girl.” He patted my cheek. “You can go home, after the rest of my boots get a spit shine.”

“Yes, my lord.” I smiled as Xavier’s hands wandered up my thigh, his teeth nibbling the shell of my ear.

“Xavier, please don’t distract her like you did last week. I had to doc her some of her pay.” Xavier gave him a nod and with that the lord’s son left.

Xavier waisted no time leaving kisses up and down my neck, “Xavier, I need to get this work done.”

“Later,” He growled and kissed me passionately. I moaned into his mouth and his tongue slipped in his hand groping my clothed breast. “You are delicious,” He moves to my jaw and my ear, “I’m really glad I met you.”

I smiled, “Me too, Bab-“he silenced me with a growl and a searing kiss.

“Y/N,” I shook the memory from my head to face my twin concern schooling her features, “Where did you go?”

I shook my head burying the memory farther down. “Nowhere at all.” I smiled but Nesta looked at me, her head tilted as if she could sniff out my lie.

***

The servants were gone, and all three Illyrian warriors sucked up all the air in the room. When they entered, I naturally gravitated toward the General. And what has become a habit is his wing curved around me slightly. Nesta stared at us in silence, no detail going unnoticed about her new guests.

“Nesta, we can’t thank you enough, for your hospitality.” Rhysand bows and Nesta lifts her chin. “We come here to ask for a favor.”

“You want to have me host a meeting here with the human queens. My sisters did fill me in.” Nesta’s response was short. I glanced over at Elain and noticed that she was entranced with Azriel and his wings.

Rhys, Feyre and Nesta continued with their conversation when I felt a nudge. I looked over to Cassian and he had an Orange in his hand and a slice held out for me chewing a slice of his own. I grab the slice and take a bite letting the citrus flavor consume me. He plops another slice in his mouth and picks a slice for me and he continued to do that until the fruit was gone. He threw the peels away and when he returned, he whispered in my ear, “The key to withstanding long meetings is bringing food.”

I stood on my tippy toes and whispered back, “Makes sense especially if each person in the room likes to hear themselves talk.”

He chuckled lowly, “I hope you never have to go to a High Lord’s meeting it’s a room full of people who like to hear themselves talk.”

“Sounds miserable.”

Cassian grinned, “Absolutely insufferable.”

I hadn’t even notice that Elain had left but her voice boomed, “Dinner is ready.”

***

Dinner had been tense. I was tucked between Rhys and Cassian, Feyre sat across from me. The males ate in silence and Elain was asking Azriel questions that he was kind enough to answer about his shadows. Eating my meal, I looked over to notice Feyre made a face as she bit into the food.

“Is our food not good enough for you now?” Nesta questioned with an accusatory look as if Feyre thought little of her. I groaned feeling the pain pulsing in my head.

“Just different than what we have back in Prythian.” Feyre muttered looking down at her plate.

Nesta turned a pointed look to me, “What about you? Is the food still good to you since you’re not them?”

“Can we not do this please.” I pleaded, “We haven’t seen either of you in a year. Please I’m begging. Drop it.”

Elain sat quietly, focusing on her own food, and Nesta clearly decided she wanted to lash out. “I will not. You come here, jeopardize our social standing here, and you two suddenly want to act better than us. I can tell you must enjoy the food, considering you're bigger than I saw you last. And even coming here in matching colors with this rabid beast, it's beneath you, really.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes, nothing new. Nesta was always the first to criticize my weight. She had been doing that for years. A hand gripped my knee and gave it a squeeze, I didn’t need to look to know it was Cassian.

“What are you looking at?” Nesta sneered her gaze meeting Cassian.

“A wicked, vile, woman, who would let her two baby sisters go out in the forest alone to help provide for the family. While she sat and did nothing. Feyre and Y/N were willing to lay down their life to save and protect my people. Both are willing to do it again, so you don’t have to go to war. So, excuse me if I’m not pleased that you are choosing to insult these two remarkable females in my presence. As for Y/N being in my colors. I haven’t made a claim against her. I didn’t even know she was going to wear it though the colors suit her beautifully. Also, there is nothing wrong with gaining weight and muscle, the more of her to love, the better.”

Nesta rose and crossed her arms, “You’re a fool. Do you know that? Aligning yourself with Feyre is one thing. She has excellent survival skills and those could be useful, but Y/N? Death follows her everywhere she goes. She killed our mother.” She gave me a pointed look and it felt like my lungs were going to give out. I couldn’t even feel Cassian’s grip tighten. “She killed a debt collector attacking our useless father. If you three are wise, you would leave her here in the human realm before she becomes your doom. And if you don’t than I wonder why the humans ever feared the fae in the first place.” She turns to me, and tears threaten to come down. “I wish it was you that died that day. Not mother.”

Elain and Feyre rose up from their seats, “NESTA,” they said in unison. My legs were not moving at my command as I jolted from my chair and ran out of the dining hall and out of the manor entirely, ignoring my name being called out.

My feet were moving of their own accord, ignoring the cold bite of the evening as I pushed hard and kept moving. Once I finally stopped and took a breath I looked up and found myself in our old cabin. The wood splintered from when Tamlin barged in, the chipped paint of Feyre’s work. The smell brought back memories of late nights, stiff necks, and pain. The depths I went to just to make sure we had some money on the days Feyre couldn’t catch game.

I walked into our bedroom, the dresser calling out like a beacon. I sat in front of it and took in my sister’s work, flowers for Elain, Flames for Nesta and Feyre and I shared the third dresser which was painted with a night sky and a cabin with a shadow by the window. Nothing indicating where I belonged.

I wished you died instead of her. The emotions of the day took hold and deafening sobs unleashed from my body as I covered my face in my hands. Wondering what I ever did to cause Nesta that much pain. My sobs were so loud I didn’t hear the door creak open, but I heard footsteps. “Please go away, I don’t want to talk.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” My spine sat up straight at the familiar voice, “I so desperately want to talk to you, Baby.” I turned to find Xavier in the doorway. His hair cropped short, his white uniform pristine and four gashes scarred above and below his cold blue eyes. My breathing was coming in short rapid, spurts.

Another set of footsteps followed, and a hooded figure walked in. Lowering his hood the moonlight revealed another familiar face, Elain’s now fiancé, Graysen, his smile sinister, “Hello, Y/N.”

Chapter 10

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen @turtleshavesoulmates @scooobies @anuttellaa @earth-to-lottie @slytherintaco @fxckmiup @tinystarfishgalaxy @cheesebookgirl @oucereeng @st0rmyt @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @misslunatic1655 @azrielsmate3 @nebarious @tele86 @chelsiemp @fightmedraco @blackgirlmagicforever @fullmoon-94 @thehighlordishere @jenniferpendragon @ray4hotchner @phoenix666stuff

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #cassian x you #cassian imagine #cassian fanfic #cassian #nesta x cassian #cassian fluff #cassian angst

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writermask-0807-backupblog · 1 year ago

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A/N: for @nunezs-stuff who requested this! I sincerely hope that I’ve done your request justice, and apologies for the delay. There might a few mistakes since this is my first time writing yandere. And I also sort of may not have met your OC’s personality quirks, but hey, I tried. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: probs super Cringe cus it’s my first writing yandere, definitely ooc Genya (ngl he sounds like Bakugou 😭), possessiveness, kidnapping, yandere behavior, different forms manipulation, mentions of being locked inside a house, chained, etc etc, you know the gist.

When he first meets you at the selection exams, Genya finds you insignificant, another hopeful face in a sea of others- an obstacle in his path.

Then that indifference to your existence turns into annoyance because you’re like a mosquito he can’t crush, constantly on his heels and by his side, chattering on and on about one whimsical thing or the other, and although he’s made it sure that you know he “doesn’t want your stupid friendship goddamnit!” you just smile gently in response, undeterred by his anger.

Still, for some reason, you stick by his side through thick and thin despite his insults and his unwarranted anger and his rough edges, and slowly, the annoyance turns into expectation.

As slow as it is, Genya begins to expect your constant presence by his side, he begins to expect the shape of your mouth curving into a smile just for him, and he, begrudgingly, begins to accept it.

Then the acceptance begins to swell into something more, something like attachment and something else he can’t yet discern.

You begin to make him feel… different.

You with that soft voice and meek eyes, you with that gentle touch and saccharine sweet smile that makes his heart wrench for someone reason, and the first thing Genya wonders is, is he sick?

The answer is yes, yes he is. Lovesick for you, that is.

Genya doesn’t accept it, at first, doesn’t want to ruin what he already has with you, but he knows that these feelings won’t go away either.

So he shows his love for you in subtle ways.

Whenever Genya sees something you’d deem cute, you’d find it by your bedside table by the next morning, and you know it’s him, judging by the furious red dusting his cheeks and ears when you next see him, and you wisely decide not to poke him about it, so instead you just grin, brighter than before.

He’ll share his food with you if he knows you skipped a meal, and whenever you’re feeling down, he’ll try his best to cheer you up, so “quit sulkin` around!”

And although he looks disinterested to any outsiders, Genya makes sure to hang onto your every word as you talk, even though it’s probably about cute, pink things you like or some other airy topic he probably won’t understand much.

And then the lovesickness bleeds into something unhealthily darker.

Genya genuinely believes you’re not something he deserves, but he’s selfish, and he wants to keep you for himself, because he knows good things in his life are fickle, and never last long.

So when he sees you chatting with Tanjiro, with that same soft, tender smile that’s meant only for him, Genya decides that while he’s not worthy of you, nobody really is.

Nobody but him are allowed to see you. To touch you. Nobody but him are allowed to see the way you smile, or hear the sound of your laughter.

You are his, and his alone, so he wards off anyone else who wants to talk you, all bared teeth and jagged scars and growling voice.

See, since it’s not an if when you’ll get into fights about his possessiveness, and rather a when, he’ll weasel his way out of it by manipulating you in whatever way he can.

He will lie, guilt-trip, gaslight you and victimize himself, and since Genya is quite insecure- in himself, in your relationship, half of it is not even a lie.

He’ll also probably use his guilt about the whole Sanemi incident to convince you be with him.

And that’s not even the worst of it.

Since you’re both demon slayers, and your soft-spoken demeanor makes him think you’re a little bit weaker than the average slayer, he’ll try to get you to quit.

And when that doesn’t work, and you get injured in a mission, Genya takes it upon himself to, in his mind, protect you.

(He knows you won’t willingly quit the corps so he’ll knock you out if he has to, and keeps you in a house he’s made his own, just for this reason only.)

You’re granted the freedom to do whatever you want to inside the house.

Since he doesn’t have any estates like the Hashiras, he will take you outside with him by his side so you won’t be able to escape, his hand resting on your lower back or on your arm, a reminder that you’ll never be able to escape, not with him around.

And, well, if he finds anyone else trying to help you escape…

He’ll make sure they’re not around to help you out a second time.

Overall, you have no chance to escape, because he’s barred the windows, made sure to lock all the doors in locks strong and heavy enough for you to not be able to break.

Hell, he’s even chained you inside your room, just for an extra measure.

This is all to ensure that, you’ll be by Genya’s side forever.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, goddamnit! Why can’t you understand that?! This is all for you. This is all for you, so why are you looking at me like that?!”

FIN-

#Yandere genya shinazugawa x reader #Reader x yandere Genya shinazugawa #Genya x reader #Reader x Genya #Genya x y/n #Genya x you #Yandere genya #Demon slayer #Kimetsu no Yaiba #Yandere demon slayer

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headingalaxys-spicy · 7 months ago

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I'd love to see Finland 🇫🇮, Denmark 🇩🇰, and/or Spain 🇪🇸 with a reader who just got her first book published, a non fiction book wanting to help people through loss. Please and thank you! 💖💖

Thank you so much for your patience! I hope you enjoy this one. I tried to make it as heartfelt as possible!

🇩🇰 Denmark 🇩🇰

You’d been staring at the computer screen until you heard some footsteps racing up your stairs. It only took you two seconds to figure out who the foot pattern belonged to.

“Y/N! Y/N! IT’S ME! LET ME IN! I HEARD- I SAW THE NEWS! LET ME IN! LET ME IN!”

From being still like an Edvard Erikson statue to your movement becoming fluid like water, you practically sprinted to your door. Once you opened the door to greet him, you were engulfed by the mid-afternoon air and muscles sculpted in the northern frost. Mathias had you caged in a bear hug and spun you around several times until you were dizzy.

“You did it y/n! You did it! I told you that simply going for it was a good idea!”

“Haha thanks Mathias!” You were choked up with laughter and relief.

Mathias carried you to your living room. You were kind of shaky, but you still couldn’t believe you followed through and finished. Your heart fluttered with joy, and you were glad to be done.

“I knew you had that spark!” He sat you down so he could inspect your face. You still had heavy bags that sat beneath your eyes. They bore the weight of all the emotions you poured out while you wrote. You swam into the depths of your soul so you could inspect its contents. The jagged rocks that lurked in the darkened waters represented all of the heartaches you’ve ever had to overcome. However sharp, it at least did not cause you to become bitter. The journeys you go through when your heart shatters under the heavy pressuring weight in the ocean of sorrow. Thinking about writing about your experiences with the ocean made tears form in the corners of your eyes.

Mathias quickly wiped away your tears as soon as they began their dissent. His bright blue hues intertwined with your darkened (eye color) that was being affected by a storm that was brewing in the distance. Mathias will share his sweet words to try to ease the incoming storm.

He’s going to plan a fun night to help you decompress from the stress of publishing a book that requires emotional energy.

He’ll want to take you to Tivoli Gardens. The number of jokes will be high because his goal for the night will be to ensure you have an amazing night. He will grab your arm and….

“OOOOOOH! Y/N! Y/N! LETS GO ON ‘THE GALLEY SHIPS AND PRETEND WE’RE VIKINGS!” He’d already bought both of you 5ft long glow sticks so you could have a sword fight there and on the way to other rides. He playfully booped your nose and forehead and slapped your legs and arms playfully with his bright ice-blue stick. You occasionally parry his offenses with your cherry-red glow stick.

Some will raise their eyebrows at his saccharine silliness. It painted the sky shades of deep pinks & reds and decorated it with vibrant flowers.

After that, he’ll escort you to the Star Flyer. He wanted the day to be fun and like a fairytale, and what better way to do that than to be on high swinging chairs? He grabs ice cream with you on your way there. You allow yourself to be fully immersed in the cotton candy daydream bubble that you were in for a while. It’s not like you got to be here often so what would the rush be?

Mathias’ bright smile seemed to have stolen a few beams of sun so that you could radiate sunlight right from his perfect teeth. He happily skips along as he thwacks you one more time gently on top of your head.

“Come on Y/N let’s hurry! Last one there loses!” He dashes off with a swift head start.

Once you’ve made it to the swings and prepared for take-off, you knew you wouldn’t have a voice. You knew you’d lose the ability to speak by the time you were done screaming your head off. Mathias adored screaming while being spun high in the air. He was like a happy Broholmer who had way too much caffeine.

As you descend back to earth, Matthias will grab your hand and decide which attraction you want to visit next. You pick a rollercoaster. You wanted to be alive! You felt alive!

Mathias will deliver when it comes to the best rides that keep you interested. The rest of the evening will be magical. He’ll show you all the best rides to suit your inner adrenaline junkie. You’ll wander around the park for a little while as you’ve been struck by the fantasy haze that has bright pastel yellows, purples, and blues.

🇫🇮 Finland 🇫🇮

He sent you a text to come over on Saturday morning for a fun get-together. He knew you well enough to make your favorite meals & snacks. Tino will have your favorite movies on DVD and have an aesthetically pleasing 500-piece puzzle for you to solve. He knows you tend to be overwhelmed about incoming critic reviews & to some extent what others think. However, Tino was ready for that. He knew your gentle heart well.

You were around the corner from Tino’s place when your heart began to pump insanely quick. Your palms were sweaty and you’d forgotten to text that you were on the way. This hangout was the only way you’d be able to distract yourself. Your publishing company dropped your book physically in shops, online, and for a Netflix exclusive content that would be read against a soothing star lit background. It had only been out for three hours or so and public opinion was beginning to pour in.

‘What if what they think what I wrote is dumb?’

‘What if it doesn’t make sense or is gibberish to those who read it?’

‘What if people think it’s too sappy?’

You pulled out your phone to check the time. It had been only a short while since the announcement was dropped. The IG post had hundreds of comments and thousands of likes. However you still hesitated at looking at the comment section even with the thousands of likes.

‘What if they’re all hate comments?’ Was another worried question that had crossed your mind. But you were eager to see what people were saying and the first impressions of your book. As you were about to jump down the rabbit hole a familiar voice dragged you back into the physical reality.

“Y/N! Y/N! Why are you just standing there staring at your phone? Come in before you & the (favorite hot comfort food) gets cold!” The cheer and warmth in his voice beckoned to you. As you pried your eyes away from your phone it remained in your hand. You dashed towards the door to greet him and hand him the wine you’d bought for him. You knew it was customary to treat your host with a nice gift of sorts when you visited them.

You were glad to see Tino. You needed him to help you stave off he rabid thoughts that the earned to devour you.

“Thanks Y/N. I have some cute bunny slippers for you. Now you can really be cozy whenever you’re at my home.” He exidely hands you the soft slippers with large ears that pointed up to 90 degrees. The beady eyes had a pristine shine to them.

“You’re too sweet thanks Tino.~” You slipped them on immediately after you took your shoes off. The plushy fabric supported you as you followed him inside. Something about being in Tino’s home always put you at ease. Tino swiftly grabs your hand and rushes to the dining room. He was eager to show you the elaborate brunch spread he’d made.

It was decorated with cookies, danishes, munkki (donut thing) & Lakiaispulla.

“Wow this looks amazing!”

“Well you did just do something amazing. You finally published your book you’d been working on for a few years now!”

He’ll pamper you in sweet ways for the entire weekend. He will have loosely made plans than can be flexible depending on your mood. Things like going to all the best small cafés, museums and hidden places that only he knows about.

Of course you’ll be taken to the sauna so the tension from your nerves can be eased. He will give you soothing massages to boot.

“Can’t write well if your back is all bent out of shape!”

While indulging in the epic spread that he’s crafted you’ll find yourself getting lost on the train viewing broadcasts that are popular in Finland. From the beautiful bustling cities of Finland that looked like an iridescent daydreams come to life to the lush forests with peaceful wildlife you couldn’t help but soak in the tranquility of this life. You allowed to to engulf your senses. Your notifications blaring from your phone brought you back into your more chaotic reality.

‘Did they hate what you wrote?’

‘Was all that was there absolute nonsense?’

The questions began to buzz in your mind like bees beginning to wake from a winter slumber. Your heart pace picked up and you’d stopped responding to Tino when he asked you about….

“Y/N!” His voice cut through the loud buzzing in your ears. You weren’t accustomed to him raising his voice in such a manner. You braced yourself for a more intensive outburst. That fear was extinguished when you felt him remove some of the hair that had fallen onto your face. Tino placed a supportive hand on your shoulder.

“Y\N want to talk about it over a drink?” His sweet smile was reassuring. It acted as an intoxicating smoke that soothed the bees eating away at your ears filled with doubt. Tino knows that you’re stressed and will listen to your woes about writing a book about loss. Pouring out your soul was no easy task. To put it out there for others to judge was on a whole other level of vulnerable. He wanted to help you carry the hefty burdens of the heart.

“Yes, let’s Tino.”

🇪🇸 Spain 🇪🇸

He’s simply excited that you’d managed to publish your book despite all the hell you had to go through in order to do so. The plethora of late nights, numerous meetings with your editor, you even consulted a few behavioral therapist and ones that specialized in grief management assisted you in producing your narrative in a constructive manner. You were meticulous in how you crafted your narrative.

Antonio for awhile believed that you’d been forced to take extra work at your daytime job for awhile. He’d always swung by your apartment to see if you wanted to have a late lunch/ early dinner or have an extended siesta relaxing in the sun. At first he wasn’t concerned when you declined to hang out with him the first few times. His worry began when you’d avoided him for 4 months straight.

Sweat was pouring down his temples when he reached your door. Had you been in the middle of a major crisis and he simply failed to notice? Why had you not come to him? Questions like this swirled in his mind until you answered the door to let him in.

“Antonio?” You say in a groggy voice.

“Y/N!” He practically tackled you off the ground. He kept you standing inches away from your carpeted floor. His strong calves, back, and arms he developed from his many nights of salsa dancing to bull wrangling bulls, his well maintained body steadied yours in midair. You were light as a feather. As his brilliant shimmering greens connected to yours he saw the bags that had formed under your eyes. He noticed that your skill was missing its usual bright glow. He also felt that you were lighter than you should have been.

“Mi amigo(o)… ¿Qué paso? (My friend what happened?)

He removed some of the hair that had flown into your eyes during your dissent to the ground.

“I’ve finally sent off my completed manuscript to my publisher.” You say in an exhausted tone. You’d been up for the past 48 hours in order to meet your deadline.

Antonio playfully picks you up bridal style and carries you back into your apartment.

“Come! Let me make you breakfast with churros. It’s time to celebrate!” His intoxicating sunshine spread warmth and energy through your body and soul. You needed this after being in the frigid depths of your soul collecting fragments of pain, tears, and shells of your former selves to gain insight and perspective. The journey to the emotional depths below left you exhausted and burning low.

“It must have been a long trip exploring the dark parts of your soul huh Y\N?”

He’s going to want to make sure you have nothing but food, fun, and relaxation. There was no better place to do that than Donostia-San Sebastian. The picturesque beaches, blue skies, and magical city that had bright lavender stars that twinkled at night. Prepare to have the best red wine from La Rioja region and all the best food from the Pintxo tours. What a better way to shake your sorrows than with food and booze.

Antonio popped in one of his breakfast churros as he patiently waited for you to pick your pinchos for the evening. He adored the way life flooded back into your (color) eyes as you gleefully sipped on some Txakoli wine. It was sweet and refreshing just like this whole impromptu trip for you to celebrate the completion of your book. He looked at the small bites that he’d like to share with you just in case there was something you hadn’t tried yet.

“How does it feel?”

“To be done? Amazing. I didn’t actually think I was going to get it done. All things considered… and with all the obstacles in my way… I never thought I would have…”

“The ability to do amazing things? Like have your book be on top 10 trending?” He shows you his phone on one of the top book vendor websites and your book managed to steal the #8 spot.

You chuckle as his big goofy grin. It soon changed into a bright toothy smile that was carved from proclean made from the God of the sun.

A smile reaches your own face when you realize that you had solid confirmation that your suffering was paying off.

For the longest time you’d been wading through the open sea. The intense feelings of grief you sifted through without a paddle. It had been chucked away as your heart inter-mingled with the familiar feelings of desperation, despair, and being agonized and eaten alive by feelings of inadequacy.

Antonio boooed your nose to bring you back to the present shoreline with him. Your bubble of loneliness had busted by the fresh Txangurro that was quickly approaching your lips. The crisp cool delicate crab meat tantalized your tastebuds. You couldn’t help but allow your senses to be soothed by the sensational food from the sea.

“You’re cute when you’ve had a chance to relax.” He poked at your cheek as you chewed. You weren’t able to hid your blush that rushed across your face like a raging wildfire.

“Thanks.” You smile at him in return.

#hetalia #hetalia fandom #hws #hetalia x reader #hetalia fluff #x reader #hws spain #hws finland #hws denmark #hetalia fanfiction writer #hetalia fanfiction writers #ヘタリア world stars #ヘタリア #headingalaxys #headingalaxys sweet #headingalaxys writes stuff

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