anxietywitchcraft

[barkingangelbaby]

i keep having nightmare about my piece of shit abusive aunt and im fucking over the subconscious torture she's dead to me she means nothing to me i never want to see her narcissistic racist face again i despise her she's fucking pathetic for stealing everything that was my dad's so we couldn't have anything to remember him by she's delusional if she thinks she helped her dying mother in any capacity bc she didn't even call to check on her and instead looked for her pain medication the night she died she showed her true colors after the shit she said in august I hope she knows her entire family is fed up with her bullshit no one enjoys her company and actively avoid her if it's possible her own daughter hates her she's the worst mother I've ever met and endangers everyone anytime she drives

i never want to see her again I want to forget she exists i need to stop having these fucking nightmares

[queers-gambit]

Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: slutty stranger bathroom sex on a train.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 3.7k+

note: are all our safe words pineapple? i need this man to rail me, you know, for science. yep, that's right, Cherry has a new fixation! aren't y'all so lucky?

warnings: author has brain rot, smut (public, strangers, unprotected), obviously cursing, PWP.

Japan was bright, you decided with a soft smile on your lips; looking around the train station glowing in neon lights; some blinking, some colored, all fluorescent. People milled around every inch of the place, all walks of life from school children to professionals with briefcases, talking on the phone, running to make their departure. Couples held hands, families took meals together, and a few meters away, a little girl screamed when her brother stole her Momonga plushie.

You must've been enraptured with all around you that your shoulder bullied into someone else's on the platform, making you gasp an instant apology in Japanese. However, the man you had collided with just offered you a stoic look up and down, letting his lips pull in a half-smirk, checking in English with a thick accent, "My apologies, love. You all right there?"

"Yeah, I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you bid with a small smile.

"'S all right, pretty ladies like you can run into me all day," he smirked, eyeing you up and down before following after his snazzy-dressed companion - who slapped his chest forcefully.

"Leave the girl alone, mate," the man reprimanded. "Sorry, miss, he gets it in his head he's God's gift to ladies."

"It's really okay, it was my fault for not watching where I was going," you assured the men, glancing at your watch. "I'm so sorry, but I really can't miss this train. Safe travels, gents!" You bid, offering a simple wave, then scurried off - trying not to double back for the man with a mustache.

God, was that man handsome! Like, illegally handsome. Hauntingly handsome.

You'd even go as far as to say he was devilishly handsome! Those eyes? Beautifully clear blue, alluring, drew you in and held you captive. His cologne? Absolutely heavenly, borderline intoxicating. And he was built like a fucking mountain - tall, broad, slender hips, bulging muscles that looked as if they would rip his button-up.

Shaking your head, you rid yourself of the body-heating thoughts about the stranger you had just barreled into. Being horny got you nowhere, but being perpetually horny... Was the biggest fucking L. Sure, you could rub one out; you knew where the clit was and how to stimulate to your own pleasure (unlike most men). But it was something about a man sweating over you, thrusting into you with abandon; creating a mess in your guts, mind, and chest.

Yeah... You needed to get laid, you were fucking drooling over some stranger you had a 23-second interaction with.

However, upon entering your train and locating a seat in the hopefully peaceful quiet car, you mindlessly downloaded Tinder to pursue at your leisure, but only a few swipes in and you were exiting the app and deleting it (again) from your phone. The train was ready to depart the station, you cracking a bottle of water, looking back on your two-week Japanese excursion your job had sent you on.

And now, you were finally heading to your last stretch of meetings, requiring you to purchase an overnight ticket on one of the available bullet trains. Seemed the fastest, simplest, and most affordable way to travel - skipping out on upgrading to first class. Economy was just fine, you decided, perhaps doubting yourself when your eyes widened when you caught sight of the two strangers you ran into on the platform finding their seats a few rows up. There was a third man with them now that was left slumped in a spare chair - probably drunk off his arse, based on the man's grungy, disheveled look.

You tried not to thinking about the handsome stranger, but he was just a few rows up from you! God, you could practically smell his cologne from here, letting your mouth water slightly.

Yeah, perpetually horny was the biggest L - like you said.

Your thighs squeezed together as you crossed them, hoping the pressure was enough to relieve the build-up of warmth in your belly and cunt. Your headphones were placed, your attention diverting out the window, and tried to imagine if nobody else was in this fucking carriage - he could take you here and now.

After a few stops, your empty water bottle sought revenge against your bladder and ushered you to the closest bathroom. It wasn't as tight a squeeze as airplane bathrooms, but it was still a small facility to use. When done, you washed your hands as a knock sounded at the door, calling in Japanese, "Just a second!"

After unlocking the door and opening it, you actually flinched back slightly when the man from early with the '70s pornstache was stood directly in front of you.

"Well, don't you look like hell," you mused slightly.

"All in a day's work, love," he answered, stepping out of your way to let you exit the bathroom. He looked you up and down, asking, "So, uh, where you headed?"

You told him your stop, asking him the same. He told you, your mind doing mental gymnastics to understand that you both had a good bit left on this train... Surely, anything could happen.

"I'll let you, yeah," you half-smiled awkwardly, moving out of his way fully to give him access to the restroom.

"You know..." He trailed, pointing at the empty lavatory, "Could fit two."

You chuckled, "Yes, but I'm finished now - you go on."

He hummed, glancing up and down the train car - spying through the windows of the conjoining connection each car had. When he faced you again, he took a slow, calculating step forward, "That's not exactly what I meant, sweetheart."

You feet took a slow, calculated step back to find the wall, his smirk broadening. "Then how about using your words like a big boy and tell me what you meant?"

"You look like a smart girl, sure you can figure it out, yeah?" He leered over you, either foot standing between yours, nearly pressed into you but far back enough that he could maintain eye contact.

You pouted at him, "I don't read minds."

"Not sure it's me mind yah gotta read," he perked a single brow, glancing out the window again. "Now, I'd love t'stand here and ravish you the way I've wanted since you bumped into me earlier, but maybe exhibition isn't your thing."

"Judging me now?"

Now, both his brows slowly rose. His teeth poked out from between his smirking lips, praising, "Naughty girl."

"Maybe you're the one a bit nervous, hmm?" You quipped, boldly reaching forward to palm his cock - already half-hard. "What's wrong, mister? Don't want people seeing you so, hm, submissive?" You gave a cheeky flex of your hand, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"You fuckin' minx," he chuckled, hands to your waist now. "Get in that fuckin' bathroom or I might just have to give this whole fuckin' train a show."

"Better start charging them all," you whispered, hearing his growl before pushing his chest back to give you a little space. "You do this often, then? Proposition strangers into dirty bathroom sex on public, moving trains? Hmm? In a foreign country? Seems terribly disrespectful, don't it?"

"Sweetheart, the thoughts in my head about what I want to do to this body - those are disrespectful," he smirked. "Wanna tell me I'm not truly tempting you? You would've left by now," he pointed out, making your chest feel warm from the embarrassment you felt suddenly. You smirked and twiddled your fingers at him in parting, turned, and just before you could step away, you felt his arms lock around your waist. "C'mon, darlin', don't be like that," he hissed in your ear, your visible smirk spurring him on. "Not about t'beg yah, princess, get this pretty li'l arse in this stall."

You folded.

Being perpetually horny was an L, sure, but being propositioned by a handsome, hulking, muscly stranger was for sure a Dub, right?

You turned in his arms, lips only centimeters apart; breathing the same air, hand on his chest to ease him back into the bathroom stall. He grinned in triumph, and the moment you were over the threshold, still maintaining eye contact, he reached around you to click the lock in place.

"C'mere," he growled, surging forward to bring his lips down to yours finally - and just like that, your panties were done for. You moaned instantly, feeling something akin to relief when his lips molded against yours; all but immediately sweeping his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

Letting him in was mind boggling; literally making static fill your brain as your hand lifted to hold the back of his neck, threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. His mustache was stiff, wriggling in an irritating fashion against your upper lip and nose, but you didn't notice - too engulfed in the way he domineered every rational thought. His hands both pressed tightly to your ribs, then waist, down your hips, around to your arse - like he couldn't make up his mind where he wanted to touch you. So, he chose to touch you everywhere.

He was intoxicating; feeling drunk on his taste, smell, touch. He was warm, his curls a bit greasy but still shocking soft, and his lips - plush, welcoming, anchoring. You didn't even know his name, but you didn't need to! All you needed was exactly what he was doing: holding complete control over your heart, mind, and cunt.

Your stranger pulled back suddenly, offering a skeptical look, "There's no boyfriend, fiancé, husband I'm gonna have to look over my shoulder for, right?"

"Not since about 6 months ago, no. Do I need to ask you the same?"

"'Course not," he mused with a grin, kissing you again - but just a degree softer. Now, both his hands rose to caress either cheek; his tongue wagging against yours in more controlled caresses. One hand dropped slowly to hold your neck, pulse quickening, and your stranger smirked, muttering against your lips, "Cheeky girl."

You pushed him back half a step, offering him a once over before confidently reaching down for the end of your shirt and pulling it off over your head. Your companions mouth fell open when you revealed yourself to him, smirking as you opened your jeans to show a hint of the lace panties you wore. You told him your name, earning a confused hum. "My name," you explained, "figured you need to know what to moan." His tongue swept over his lips. "Gonna just stand there?"

He chuckled, checking his watch, then started unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Tangerine," he spoke simply.

"That your safe word?" You asked, shucking your jean clean off after toeing out of your shoes. "Hm, mine's pineapple."

"'S my name, love," he chuckled, opening his button up to reveal exactly what you thought - plains of smooth skin over rigid, bulging muscles. "So you know what to scream," he smirked.

You paused, stood in your panties, bra, and socks, asking through a small chuckle, "You're telling me, your mother carried you all those months in her belly, pushed you screaming - bloodied - into the world, looked at yah, and said, 'yeah, he looks like his name should be Tangerine'?"

He peeled his top half naked, your throat swelling close; swallowing harshly to clear your mouth of the overflow of salvia. Slowly, he moved closer to you, once again leering over you. He reached out for your neck, not too tight or aggressive, but forceful enough to tilt your head back. "'S a codename, love," he explained.

"Ah, so can't reveal the government."

"Exactly."

"The fuck kinda job you got that requires codenames?"

"The dangerous kind," he smirked, "wanna keep running your mouth or put it to other use?"

You chuckled and reached for his trousers, holding his eyes with yours as you easily unfastened him and hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and suit pants. His mouth parted slightly when the cooler air hit his exposed cock, asking, "Safe word?"

He snickered, "Pineapple's fine, love," he sounded far too amused, watching you get on your knees in front of him, "but I doubt we'll need - Oh, holy, fuckin' good God," he seethed through clenched teeth when you eagerly took him in your mouth.

He was bigger than what you were used to - like a full double the size your previous partners had been. He was longer, thicker, and Goddamn, was he sweltering in your mouth. You wondered how long it had been for him, feeling your panties dampen as you felt exhilarated to show this man with a "dangerous job" exactly what your mouth could do - and why he'd never forget your name.

"Oh, there's a good fuckin' girl," he groaned, collecting whatever hair he could in a makeshift ponytail; looking down his nose to watch you. His cock was overwhelming, but you were determined to earn the pleasure he would surely bring; mouthing around his cockhead, using one hand to pump what didn't fit, the other alternating between holding his hairy thigh for balance and cradling his balls.

A few times, you held his eyes with yours as you removed his cock with a pop; licking his shaft up and down like it was a popsicle on the Fourth of July. His jaw would clench each time, sputtering his breath. His veins were pulsing, prominent under the skin; making your cunt contract as his throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly, groaning.

"Li'l too good at this, baby, Goddamn," he breathed, chuckling to himself as he retracted his hips while holding your jaw. "All right, all right," he chuckled, "made your point, love. Get up here 'fore I lose my bloody mind."

You pouted, "I quiet like it down here."

"Darlin', I'm about to bust - "

"Isn't that the point?"

He chuckled and reached down to help you up, instantly searing you in a wet, messy kiss as he backed you into the sink counter; tasting himself on your tongue. It was erotic, something you were vastly not used to - no man ever being okay with you kissing them after having their dicks in your mouth.

But no, this Tangerine fellow was obviously built different.

One hand anchored your waist, the other dropping to toy with your panties gently; petting the waistband before sinking his hand lower. You shuddered lightly when his finger swept through your wet folds, both groaning in pleasure when he sunk knuckle-deep. "Feels so good, love," he praised, your legs widening your stance to let him better access; hand fully disappeared into your panties. "So fuckin' warm, yeah," he breathed, increasing his speed so he pumped aggressively. He didn't need a second finger, he was chasing your orgasm - purely focused on the way you withered before him.

"Tan," you whimpered, gripping his assaulting arm as he found your g-spot and chuckled darkly.

"Got it, there, did I? Yeah, let's see what you've got, love, c'mon."

You whined in your throat, leaning into his chest as your legs began to quake. You didn't get a chance to warn him, feeling that overwhelming urge to urinate - gasping loudly and needing him to support your body as his finger jabbed your g-spot to the point you were gushing into his hand.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he encouraged, stimulating you further; loving the feeling of your squirt in his cupped hand, "keep goin', good girl, that's it, yeah? I got yah, good girl, there you go."

You grunted when he slowed his hand to the point the heel of his palm ground into your clit. Feeling overstimulated, your hand slapped to his meaty forearm, meeting his eyes with a glare, begging, "Okay, okay, okay, you made your fuckin' point."

He grinned, "Didn't know I had that affect on you, love. Huh?"

"You could've offered to fuck me when I ran into you earlier and I would've bent over - right there and then," you whispered against his lips, licking into his mouth right after; making his own mind go blank.

"Feelin's mutual, doll," he nodded, using both hands to shred your lace panties from your hips with a shrill gasp. "Keepsake," he teased, showing you the ruined fabric before dropping it.

You offered him a coy look before turning around for him, not needing the instruction; meeting his stare in the mirror. Bracing yourself against the sink, you slumped over it, making him groan.

"Fuck, doll," he whispered, admiring the view and smoothing a hand over one bare cheek. "Just look at yah, ready fa' me, just drippin'," he bit his lip, giving a few pumps to his length as he looked you over; other hand toying with your weeping hole. He growled and slid his cockhead up and down your slit, both shuddering lightly; moaning in union when he notched himself at your entrance. His eyes met yours in the mirror, his mouth parted, slowly sinking forward to the fucking hilt - making you feel impossibly full.

"Oh, Jesus fuck!"

He chuckled, shifting his hips, "Keep it down, love, don't need anyone bangin' on the door, interrupting us, huh?"

"I'll be quiet when you get a smaller dick."

This made Tangerine genuinely snicker, "Fair enough."

"Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he suddenly pulled back, surged in, and started his own rhythm. Through the mirror, you saw the concentrated, cocky expression he wore; looking purely focused, mesmerized by the way his cock would disappear within you, only to reappeared - soaking wet, glistening.

"Feel's divine," he hissed, the grip on your hips sure to leave bruises. "God, this pussy's made fa me - grippin' s'fuckin' tight. Who was the idiot who let this go, huh?"

"Really wanna talk about my ex now?" You panted.

"Nah, don't need to - 's mine now," he grit, one hand letting go of your hips to bring down on the meat of your bottom. "Hear me? Huh? Fuckin' mine now," he pommeled your arse a couple more times. "Like that, huh? Don't you? Feel you fuckin' squeezin' me each time."

"Yes," you moaned. "Fuck, yes, yes, God, you feel fucking amazing."

"Keep talkin'," another slap that made you squeak.

You were nervous 'cause you never considered yourself the best at dirty talk, but still tried, "So fuckin' good, makin' me so wet. Fuck - never had cock like this, so good - so deep, so big. Don't stop," you whimpered, his feet repositioning to allow himself a new angle and speed to drill into you. "Fuck, yes," you moaned loudly, encouraging, "harder, please, yes, yes, yes! Just like that!"

The motions cause ripples across the flesh of your bottom, thighs quaking. You pushed your hand down your front, your partner groaning at the sight as you found your clit and started massaging; the contractions squeezing Tangerine's cock tightly. His one hand traveled around the front of you, sliding up to yank your bra from your breasts; palming one with fever before tweaking your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.

"Fuuuuck, Tan," you whined, moaning. "Don't stop, please, 's too fuckin' good!"

"I've got yah, darlin', almost there," he grunted, folded a little more over your back so he could fondle you roughly. "Naughty fuckin' girl, lettin' me bend yah over like this - don't even know me. Just knew you needed my cock, huh, love? Ain't that right?"

"Yes," you moaned, orgasm fast approaching.

"Probably let me do whatever I wanted t'you, huh?"

"Fuck yes, whatever you wanted, however you wanted me!"

"At's a good girl," he grit. "Takin' me so well, so fucking good. Need this pussy again, hear me? Fuck," he panted, increasing his speed to an erratic pace, "need a taste, need yah t'squirt on me again. Need this pussy in all positions." He bared his teeth, increasing his speed, hissing, "Lemme hear you scream, love. Wanna hear my name. from that pretty fuckin' mouth, c'mon."

"T-Tan, fuck, Tangerine, I-I'm right there, I'm so close - OH FUCK!" Your orgasm made you reel back into his chest, milking yourself on his impaling cock. You gasped, mouth left wide as his hand constricted around your throat, his mouth hot against your ear; biting and licking as he grunted forcefully.

He gasped in your ear, moaning your name on a short repeat, shuddering as he stilled himself; coating your wet interior with his thick ropes of hot, heavy cum. Your eyes were closed, head tilted back to his shoulder; his lips actually soft as he planted several kisses along your neck (that he released) and shoulder. "Holy fuck, doll," he whispered, chuckling in disbelief. "'S a li'l too good."

You smirked, "Yeah, I've heard that before, you're not the first t'tell me."

"Ah, way t'ruin it, doll," he joked, making you chuckle breathlessly. "All right?"

"Mhm," you sighed, eyes opening. "You?"

"Never better," he mused softly, sighing as you both tried to regain your breath. He let out a single grunt as he held your hips, pulling his cock free; releasing a gush of cum from you both to drip from your cunt. As you both redressed, he eyed you for a moment, then mentioned, "Listen, love, uh... Don't miss your stop."

"I wasn't planning on it?"

"Good... Just..." He sighed, closing up his shirt. "Make sure you get off this train."

You stared at him for a moment, pondering, "This have something t'do with that 'dangerous job' of yours?"

"A bit."

You hummed, zipping your jeans back up sans panties. "Why don't you get off, too?" You asked softly.

"Can't, darlin', got a job t'finish."

You nodded, "Then be careful, yeah?"

He nodded in return, reaching out to pull you in close. He took a second to look you over, smirking slightly, "Worried about me, are yah?"

"I don't even know you."

"We'll change that," he eased. "Your phone?" You offered a small look before sighing, reaching for your phone, unlocking it, and offering it to him. He typed for a moment, a distant buzz heard from his own phone, then handed it back to you. "I'll call you up sometime, love," he smirked, watching you reach back to unlock the door.

"You better," you mused, letting him press one more searing kiss to your lips. You hummed, pouting slightly and telling him, "Behave, or we'll go at round two."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, darlin'," he pocketed your shredded panties with a cheeky grin.

"You still owe me for those," you pointed.

"Send a bill, I'll make it up t'yah."

You smirked, "No bill, but I'd take dinner."

To your honest shock, a sort of... Contemplating, soft expression took over his face, nodding, promising quietly, "I'll call yah, darlin'. Just make sure you answer."

[ part two: Shower Shenanigans ]

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[pedantic-poison]

Rulebreaker | CS55

pairing: fem brat!reader x brat tamer!carlos sainz jr

genre: smut, 18+ MINORS DNI, language, dom!carlos x brat!reader, spanking (mostly with hands, briefly with a belt), sir kink, degradation, a wee bit of praise, names used for reader (princesa, cariño, slut, good girl), fingering, unprotected p in v (use protection irl!!!), mention of safeword but no use of it, aftercare

requested: sort of based on an ask I got for another driver that I couldn't make it work for

word count: 5.3k

author's note: i hope y'all like this one! i've been working on this for ages now and it got really really long so as always feedback of any kind is much appreciated!

You knew you weren't supposed to.

You knew you really weren't supposed to.

But it had been weeks without seeing Carlos and at this point you felt like you were losing your mind, so you muster the strength to drag yourself upstairs to your bedroom.

Really it was Carlos' bedroom, since you were housesitting for him while he was gone. You weren't sure if that was making it better or worse - constantly being surrounded by his things, sleeping in his sheets, wearing his shirts because they smelled like him.

At least for right now, those last two were about to be very helpful, as you dropped yourself onto the still messy sheets you'd been sleeping in, inhaling the scent of him as you grabbed your vibe from your bedside table where you'd stashed it. You knew you weren't supposed to touch yourself, so you really didn't even know why you'd brought it in the first place, but you just needed some kind of relief - even without Carlos here to give it to you.

The fluffy pillows and sheets seemed to envelop you as you sank further in them, sighing with contentment as you started to trail your hands along your inner thighs, briefly teasing yourself through your panties before quickly discarding them, leaving you clothed only in an old t-shirt of Carlos'. His name left your lips in a breath as the vibrator made contact with your clit, tracing light circles around the bud before slowly applying more and more pressure.

You felt yourself getting wetter as you went, the shirt so oversized that it rested below your butt, meaning that when a drop of your arousal trailed down from your cunt, it landed on Carlos' shirt. It was so filthy that a moan tore out of you, harsh and unexpected, at the thought of your arousal mixing with the smell of him on the shirt, digging your face deeper into the pillow next to your head to inhale him as much as you could. Your back had started to bow off the bed, legs twitching around your hand as you fought to keep them open. Forcing your other hand to leave its spot latched onto the sheets at your side, you slowly sank a finger into yourself, just barely brushing that spot as you -

Heard your ringtone go off.

Huffing in frustration, you instinctively went to turn your phone off when you stopped to actually read the name on the screen. You dropped everything else you'd been doing, picking up the phone before it finished the third ring.

"Carlos!"

His chuckle came through the speaker first, deeper than usual, and a little bit scratchy, telling you that wherever he was (you'd lost track at this point), he'd just woken up. "Hi, cariño, how're you doing?"

"I'm fine, I miss you though," you inhaled deeper than you normally would've, the effort to catch your breath reminding you of what you'd just been doing, and just how much you were not supposed to be doing it. "A lot," you added belatedly, swallowing hard to try not to show your actions in your voice.

"I know, I miss you too. Are you taking care of yourself while I'm gone? Your voice sounds a little hoarse." He was only being sweet, but your mouth went dry at the question, mind racing to try and come up with a convincing enough excuse that- "Cariño? Are you still there?"

Shit. "Oh, um - yes! Sorry, I think the call cut out or something," you mumbled, hoping if you said it quickly enough he wouldn't think too hard about what you'd said. "But yeah, I think I might have a little cold. Nothing too bad, but my throat's been a little," you cleared your throat with a small (and hopefully convincing) cough, "sore for most of the day."

"Oh, well I'm sorry to hear that, princesa," Carlos cooed sympathetically, but there was a slight edge to his voice that you found a little odd, almost mocking. "You know how I hate it when you lie to me." Confused at how he'd found you out, you freeze, your lack of a response prompting him to explain, "I can hear your vibrator buzzing through the phone. Not that I needed that to tell what you've been doing, but that makes it pretty obvious, no?"

Your eyes went wide, darting to the vibe where it sat, abandoned and still buzzing away, where you'd thrown it down on the sheets. Shutting it off quickly, you shoved it away under the sheets, like that would make any sort of difference when he'd already heard it and knew what it was.

"Carlos, I-"

"Honestly, cariño, did you really think I wouldn't notice?" His voice had gone hard, still gruff and deep from having slept, and that ache in your core that you'd temporarily forgotten about returned tenfold at the sound of it. "Did you forget how much time I've spent memorizing all the little noises you make? The way your breathing changes when you're close? The way you either talk too slow or too fast because you can't think straight? The scratch in your voice when you've had your mouth hanging open while you moan?"

You could only clench your thighs in response, inhaling shakily at his filthy words. The idea of him being so occupied with thoughts of you and the ways you sounded when he touched you these past few weeks made you flush with heat, feeling it spread down your neck and chest, under the fabric of his shirt.

"You only had to wait a few more days, and you couldn't even manage that, could you? So disobedient, princesa," his breathing had deepened, and you realized with a start that your hand had returned to the apex of your thighs, trailing along the hem of the shirt laying atop your bare legs where they were tucked under you.

"I - I'm sorry," you finally breathed out. "I couldn't help it. You've just been gone for so long, and your rules are so unfair." Your voice took on a whine as you spoke, flopping down onto your back dramatically as you sighed. You'd been caught, so there was no real point in trying to behave anymore.

Carlos chuckled again, this time much darker than the last, "I know you think they're unfair, princesa. I can tell from how much you complain about them, and from how often you break them," voice tightening, like he was restraining himself. The sound of it sent your hand beneath the fabric of his t-shirt, creeping back towards your still exposed, still weeping cunt.

"Then maybe those rules should change," your fingers, still damp with your arousal, grazed your clit. "Since they don't seem to be working too well," the words rushed out of just a little too fast as you began to circle the bud again.

"Watch it, cariño. There's a reason you're not in charge," he warned, the exercise of authority making you whimper. "Now, be a good girl and get those fingers out of your tight little pussy."

You took a breath.

"Or what?"

Carlos' end of the call fell silent for a moment longer than you expected.

"You are playing with fire here, princesa."

The phone line clicked, and the call ended.

You tossed your phone to the end of the bed, frustrated in every way imaginable. If he was going to be such an asshole, the least he could do was let you get off to the sound of his voice while he was gone. Now, you were even more desperate than before, and in a few days' time when he returned, you knew he'd punish you.

A devilish thought occurred to you. If you were already in trouble, you might as well enjoy it then, right? Get as much out of the time before he came home as you possibly could.

You fell asleep right there later that night, satisfied (for now) and surrounded by the smell of Carlos and you mingling on his sheets. When the sun woke you, you'd slept so hard that for a brief moment the emptiness of the bed surprised you, before remembering that you still had four more days to go. And just like that, the frustration returned.

Completely undaunted by the disobedience now, you reached right down between your thighs, touching yourself to the thoughts of Carlos that had swum through your mind last night. You were so desperate.

So absorbed by the feeling of it.

So blind to anything but chasing that pleasure.

You didn't even hear the front door unlock.

Or the drop of a bag inside the doorway.

The sound of shoes walking through the living room.

Padding up the stairs.

Stopping in the threshold of the room.

Of his room.

"Dios, you are such a fucking brat."

The sound ripped you away from your fantasies, gasping as you sat straight up and nearly screaming out of shock. Carlos stood at the foot of your bed - his bed - watching you, dark eyes contrasting with the stark white shirt he wore, the first few buttons undone, and the sleeves rolled up his forearms. His hair was mussed (though probably not as badly as yours), like he'd barely slept on the plane, and his hands, hidden by the pockets of his dress pants, were undoubtedly clenched, judging by the bulging veins in his forearms. He looked furious.

He was furious. Had been ever since that phone call with you, after hearing your voice, breathy and full of attitude. He kept being furious during the pointless meetings he had to sit through for hours about god knows what, during the entire plane ride where his head swam with thoughts of you and what he would do to you when he got his hands on you, and during his drive back to his house where his knuckles went white from his grip on the wheel. And now, looking at you, sprawled in his bed, clad only in one of his shirts, moaning his name, he couldn't hold back the intense, primal feelings of possession that flooded him. With your face hot and breaths coming fast, eyes hazy with sleep and lust, and legs spread wide in front of him, leaving your pussy on display, glistening like you were welcoming him home, he knew he would've ruined you anyways, even without your constant disobedience. You couldn't follow his rules because you needed him that badly. Needed to feel his presence even when he wasn't there. He certainly had no issue with reminding you just how much he owned you.

"Carlos... you're... home early," you mumbled, out of breath from the shock of his arrival and the buildup of pleasure it ruined.

"Is that all you have to say for yourself?" He prowled closer to the end of the bed, and you subconsciously drew yourself closer to the headboard. You swallowed hard, clamping your jaw shut and refusing to give him any sort of answer. That would only make it worse for you. But you'd long since given up on staying out of trouble with Carlos.

That certainly wasn't new information to Carlos, either, but it still grated against him when you remained silent, the stubborn set of your brows as you tried your damnedest to stare him down only stoking his need to put you in your place. Glancing down to your still spread legs, Carlos allowed his eyes to trail hungrily over you once more, before reaching forward and grasping your ankle, tugging harshly. The force of it surprised a yelp out of you, bringing a grin to Carlos' face as he situated you at the end of the bed, legs spread to make room for him between them as he stood over you.

"Oh, princesa... you do know you're in trouble, no?" Fingertips grazed over your cheek, trailing down the column of your neck. When you remained silent, the light touch of fingertips became his full palm, hand wrapping around your throat, slowly applying the tiniest bit of pressure. "It's cute, this little act of defiance you put on. Makes me want to fuck the fight right out of you." The grip tightens briefly, before disappearing altogether.

Then your face presses into the bedsheets, Carlos flipping you onto your front. He does it so easily, manhandling you with such minimal effort that it sends a thrum of heat through you. Strong, large hands roughly grope your ass cheeks, spreading them apart so he can see your cunt clearly.

"Such a needy little slut," he tsks, laughing wryly as your pussy clenches from the cold of the air and the pure filth of his words. And then, the heat of his hands and body are gone. You whine, knowing that with the mood he was in, he would make you wait and wait and wait before he followed through on his promise and actually fucked the defiance out of you (or at least tried to).

Turning your head to the side, you watch as Carlos settles himself on the side of the bed, cock already visibly hard through his trousers. "Get up," he tells, not asks, you, voice stern. The doting, adoring Carlos that you loved had taken a backseat to this almost predatory side of him, and you had to admit you loved it just as much. Opting to listen (for once) you stand up from the bed. "Good girl," he hums, pleased, "now strip for me." It's an easy enough task, shedding his shirt and letting it drop carelessly to the floor. His eyes don't leave your body for a moment, raking over your naked figure as if he'd never seen you before. Wordlessly, he patted his thigh, beckoning you to him, and you went willingly. You knew what he was telling you to do, but you still optimistically went to straddle him, earning you a swift smack to the thigh you had raised up onto the bed. "You know exactly what you're supposed to do right now, cariño. Don't make me tell you."

The contact had ratcheted up your awareness, feeling his every breath as you laid yourself across Carlos' lap, ass in the air and hands already gripping onto the bedsheets in front of you, knowing what was coming. "There, was that really so hard? Always wanting to cause trouble," he mused, hands caressing your ass again. "Always so big and brave in the beginning," his left hand traveled up your spine, tracing its path to the base of your neck. "But by the time I'm done with you, when I have you begging and shaking and crying for me, you always remember who's in charge."

The hand at the base of your neck grasped the hair there, yanking your head up and back so he could whisper into your ear. "You remember your safeword, mi amor?" he asked, checking in on you before actually starting anything.

"Yes, sir" you managed, speaking for the first time since you'd first seen him at the foot of the bed. He nodded, placing a kiss to your temple before shoving your head back down into the sheets.

Returning his left hand to the small of your back, while his right groped your ass, Carlos' voice resumed its darker timbre. "I spent a lot of time thinking about what kind of punishment you deserve for your little stunt over the phone." The thought of Carlos stewing in anger and lust for hours and hours making you shiver. "But that was before I came home to find you, knuckles deep in this needy little hole," he lets his fingers brush just barely against your entrance before retreating. "Same rules as usual, princesa: you count out loud for me, and if you miss one, we start over. You tell me when you're close, and if you come without my permission, we start over. Understood?"

Your nod earned you a sharp pinch on your cheek from where his hand had been tracing circles. "Yes, sir," you breathed out quickly, knowing by now what he was looking for.

"Good." With one final, gentle swipe of his hand, you feel his right hand leave your body, tensing in its absence. You feel its impact land, firmly, but not too harshly - yet.

"One," you breathe out, head tilted to the side to ensure he hears you clearly. He lands another spank. "Two." Harsher this time. "Three." Despite bracing yourself, you still flinch with every smack, body jolting as the sound echoes in the otherwise silent room. "Four." Your voice has already grown weaker, breathier. Heat rises where the blood has rushed to your stinging skin, already sensitive. "Five," he lands the next slap as you're inhaling to brace yourself, speeding up suddenly. "S-six, ah." Without meaning to, you squirm in his lap, earning you another quick slap that shocks a gasp out of you.

"Stop moving, princesa, or I will tie you down and make you take everything I give you," he grits out. "Got it?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"And what number was that?"

For a brief moment, your mind scrambles, distracted and overwhelmed. "S-seven?" It comes out as more of a question than an answer, and you cringe at the uncertainty of your own voice.

"You sure?" his hand stills on your ass, making your panic grow. But you can hear the lilt of his voice, can tell that he's trying to throw you off.

"Yes, sir," you answer, more confident this time.

"Good girl," he praises, but it's short lived, as another smack lands.

"Eight." The spanks are harder than they initially were, building in intensity, your skin aflame from his rough touch. "Nine." You're doing your best not to wriggle, hands clenched in the sheets like you're fighting yourself to stay put, but that doesn't stop the shakes wracking through your body. "Ten." Relief floods your body, knowing that, on a normal day, this is where Carlos stops. At this point he's gotten you drenched, arousal slicking your thighs, and part of you wonders if you've left a damp spot on his trousers. That little relief goes out the window when you feel his hand against you again, landing two harsh spanks in quick succession. "Eleven," you heave, "twelve."

The sound of Carlos' belt clinking as he removes it makes you freeze. "Carlos?" you question, voice small and unsure.

"I told you, cariño, the punishment I had planned for you at first was before I found you touching yourself, again." His left hand wraps around the front of your throat, bringing your torso up so he can speak directly into your ear once again. "The punishment needs to fit the crime, and you've been very, very bad," he coos, grazing your ass ever so slightly with the belt in his right hand. You shiver. "I'm gonna give you two with this, and then we're done with the spanking, alright, cariño?"

After a moment, you nod, and the slight tick of a pressure increase on your throat reminds you to speak your answer. "O-okay."

The leather of his belt drags against your inflamed flesh, before he pulls his hand back. He allows your head to return to the bed, resting it back against the sheets, and you hear him wrapping the belt around his right hand.

When the belt cracks against your ass, you cry out, body lurching forward, nearly leaping out of Carlos' lap before he grabs you by the hip, holding you in place. "Thirteen," you whimper out, voice breaking. Carlos' free hand rubs soothing circles against your hip, calming you down from the jolt of the impact. "Fuck, fourteen." Your breathing has gone ragged, chest heaving in an uneven, staccato pattern. You feel Carlos throwing your body around again, tossing you onto your back on the bed as you try to catch your breath.

He stands over you again, a predatory glint in his eyes, not giving you time to recover before sliding a finger straight inside of you. It punches the air out of you, your moan silent without air in your lungs to put any sound into it. Carlos chooses a rapid pace, aided by how wet you've become, and the squelch of him pressing a second digit into you is the most obscene sound you've ever heard.

"God, you look so fucking good like this, princesa. Shaking around my fingers," he curls them, hard, to make his point, grinning at the way your body reacts to the touch. "Such a desperate little slut, aren't you? My desperate little slut."

The sting of his palm landing on your inner thigh forces your eyes open. "Yes, sir - oh, fuck- only for you," you squeak out. You realize with a start that there are tears forming in your eyes, most likely from your punishment, though the way your building pleasure mixes with the pain only intensifies the feeling. The tension in your belly goes taught as Carlos' thumb begins drawing circles on your clit, arching into his touch. Everything you're feeling is so overwhelming, you almost forget yourself. "C-close, sir, I'm - ah - close."

"Yeah? You wanna come, cariño?" His eyes glint at the sound of your pleas, incoherent as they may be. "Too bad," he growls, pulling his fingers out of you as you whine at the loss of contact, earning you another light smack to your inner thigh. "Don't be greedy, amor."

"I - I'm sorry, sir," you sob out, chest heaving for breath.

Rough hands grip you by the waist and harshly yank you to the edge of the bed, flipping you onto your stomach and letting your legs hang off the bed, toes just barely skimming the ground. Carlos traces patterns on the red, raw skin of your ass, and you flinch away from the feeling without meaning to. In response, Carlos digs his hand into the hair at the base of your neck, tugging you up to speak directly into your ear.

"I'm going to fuck you now, cariño, and you're going to take everything I give you, or you don't get to come, got it?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"You going to take it like a good girl, princesa?"

"Yes, sir, yes, whatever you want, I'll be good," you fought to keep the needy edge out of your voice, not wanting to sound too demanding of him.

"Good girl," Carlos left a series of searing kisses down your neck, trailing onto your shoulder and down your back as he let you fall back down onto the bed. He hadn't even fucked you yet and you had already gone completely limp, unable to hold up your own body weight.

A large, warm hand splays across your lower back as his lips reach it, touch gentle but firm as he holds you to the bed, standing to his full height again as he yanks his trousers and boxers down just enough to pull himself out.

"Look so beautiful like this, princesa, such a pretty little slut for me," Carlos rasps out, voice low and gravelly, and you can tell just from the sound of it that he's stroking himself. Trying to make you squirm, testing to see if you'll whine at the lack of attention, or do that thing where you wiggle your ass at him to try to get him inside you. But at least for the time being, you're done misbehaving. You need him too badly to risk it being taken away again.

"Just for you, sir. Only you," you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear so he doesn't think you're demanding anything, throwing a glance over your shoulder that you hope strikes the right balance between obedience and seduction.

Based on the way his eyes darken and the hand spread on your back presses done just the tiniest bit more firmly, you're pretty sure you succeeded.

You know you did when he starts to slide into you, eyes staying on yours as both of his hands land on your waist. The feeling of him pushing into you, on top of the thought of just how much of you his hands manage to cover, has your head dropping back down onto the bed with a moan.

Carlos' mouth tilts up in a grin at how quickly you fold, how immediately you become pliant once his dick is in you. Hell, he hasn't even bottomed out yet, and you're already squirming and whining and clawing at the sheets. "Taking me so well, princesa," he coos, just as he snaps his hips flush with yours, filling you up the last few inches suddenly. The combination of him completely filling you, and the praise makes your head spin, and he knows it. It's why he knows to hold back the praise, to mix it in with the degradation, because that makes it all the more potent when he finally gives it. When you finally earn it. Plus, you get off on disobeying him too much for him to not make you work for it - otherwise, you'd have turned into a little monster by now. The thought makes him grin further to himself, thinking that at least you're his little monster.

He knows your body too well. Carlos can tell from the way you're squirming that you're beyond desperate for him to move, but that you're trying even more desperately to be good for him, to hold still, to take what he gives you and not demand anything more. Kisses trail down your back and shoulders, and even though you can feel the smile on his lips, you don't have the mental strength to process what it means right now. Carlos likes it when you have to try like this, likes that he can do this to you, can make you this needy for him, and that despite all of that, your need to please him, to be good for him, overrides your own desire for pleasure. For all of your talk and pretended disobedience, the moment he's in you, you submit to him completely. When he thinks about it too hard, it makes his cock throb inside you.

The sound of your whimpers draws Carlos back out of his thoughts, the noises escaping despite your best efforts. "Being a good little slut now that you're full of my cock, huh? Fuck, princesa, I love those pathetic little noises you make." He bends over you again to speak directly into your ear, and you whine at the way it makes him shift inside you. "I want you to let me hear every single one, cariño. Don't hold back on me, no?"

"I w-won't, sir. I won't, promise," you babble. At this point, you were willing to say damn near anything as long as it meant he would start moving.

"Good girl," he purrs, staying bent over you as he slowly pulls out until just the head of his cock remains inside you. Again, he pauses there for a moment, relishing the way you whimpered as he moved. Then, after he's had his fill of making you squirm in need, he thrusts back in, hard. It knocks the breath out of you, forcing a sharp cry from your mouth at the sudden and harsh way he fills you back up. He continues the pace like that, pulling out slow and thrusting back in with as much force as he can, hips slapping your already raw and sensitive ass when they meet yours.

You keep your promise to Carlos, letting every little sound he elicits from you out unabashedly, your small ah-ah's turning almost into shouts each time his hips are flush with yours. His hot breath on your neck and his broad, firm chest pressed to your back make it impossible to think about anything other than Carlos, Carlos, Carlos. The way his body cages yours in while he manhandles you, pulling your hips to where he wants them, has your moans ripping out of your chest with even more force. As Carlos starts to snap his hips faster, not pulling out all the way in favor of increasing his pace, each thrust punches noises out of you, becoming increasingly embarrassing the more worked up he gets you.

"Fuuuck, that's it, cariño, let me hear you, let me hear how good I make you feel," he encourages, one hand snaking into the hair at the base of your skull to force your face out from its hiding place in the bedsheets. "Wanna hear how much you like it when I fuck you like this. You like this, princesa? You like taking my cock like a good little slut?"

You can only whine desperately, nodding as best you can with Carlos' grip on your hair tightening. "Yeah? Say it, then, princesa. Tell me how much you love taking my cock."

It takes you a moment to process his words, mind feeling hazy from the lust and from returning to the brink of your orgasm, and the delay has Carlos fucking into you just the slightest bit harsher. "Fuck! I - I like it! I love t-taking your cock, sir, love b-being your s-slut, please," you gasp out the last word, the air forced from your lungs by the combination of the force of his thrusts and his other hand landing on your clit.

"Please what? Use your words, princesa." At first, the only response he gets is your high-pitched squeal as his fingers press harsh circles into your clit. "Come on, cariño, you can do it, use your words and tell me what my little slut wants."

"P-please, sir, please let me come, please sir, please," you babble, words becoming incoherent shortly after, devolving into whimpers and keens that resemble words like please and sir over and over again.

"Aw, look at you, cariño, using your words and asking so sweetly," he coos, causing your face to flush with heat even further at the mixture of praising and teasing words. "Alright, princesa, you can come. Come all over my cock for me, yeah? Come all over me so I can fill you up, wanna feel you clenching around me when I come in you," Carlos begins to ramble. Getting closer and closer, he tips over the edge as you come around him, walls squeezing tight around his pulsating cock as it throbs in you, marking you from the inside out.

Carlos doesn't pull out right away, basking in the feel of you wrapped around him, head resting between your shoulder blades as he gropes your ass. Occasionally, he squeezes particularly hard, and you whimper from the sensitivity, drawing a deep chuckle out of him that reverberates against the bare skin of your back. Carlos begins leaving kisses down the line of your spine, slowly drawing out of you.

Your body sags even further into the bed, completely spent, and you jolt away from him when you feel two large fingers at your entrance. With his other hand, Carlos grips your hip, holding you in place, as he watches his cum drip out of you, slowly pushing it back in with his fingers. "Can't let this go to waste, cariño. Got to make sure you remember who's in charge, no?"

You nod weakly, no energy or desire left to fight him (for now). Once Carlos is satisfied with his reminder to you, he rises, gently pulling you off of the bed and into his arms. He scoops you up easily, cradling you as he walks to the bathroom and gets the water running, kissing your head softly and murmuring praise as he sits on the edge of the tub, holding you to him tightly. Your body curls into the warmth of him, allowing yourself to be cared for since you're not even sure you could stand on your own right now. He says something about not falling sleep just yet, and then he's lifting you into the bath, smiling fondly at the pout you throw his way when he stops holding you. "Don't worry, cariño, I'm not going anywhere," Carlos hums, slipping in behind you and pulling you to his chest. "I'm staying right here."

[thebluester2020]

[ZZZ] "How To Recieve An A+ In Housekeeping!"

Summary: Attempting to get a job in Victorian Housekeeping Co. is a very strenuous process! One must show a wide variety of skills, good vocabulary, and excellent manners— all three were skills that you were failing at but, luckily the leader of the company had the perfect method to teach you these skills and it all starts with a program! Warning(s): Dom! Lycaon / Sub! Reader, Brat-Taming [Reader's a bit mouthy at best tbh] Spanking, Slight Edging, Cum Denial [Kinda? Lycaon encourages reader not to cum but doesn't do anything to enforce it tbh], Lycian being gentlemanly as hell. (Feel free to tell me if I missed anything!) Side Note(s): I won't say I am/am not a furry. But I will say that my taste in dudes will always favor them where they're stoic and serious but have a secret soft side. Respectfully, those types of men make me want to do the sexy splits on them.

Anyway, hope y'all enjoy this <33

"Your manners are terrible"

When those words left the wolfman's mouth sternly as you sat before him, only a desk separating the two of you, you could've sworn you felt a metaphorical anvil drop into your stomach. You had been job-hunting for a couple of weeks now, after your last gang had disbanded due to the leader getting caught up with the law. You no longer had a steady flow of cash (albeit a little illegal ) coming in!

From gang member to attempted housemaid...it was laughable. Even to you.

And clearly, the leader of the Victorian Housekeeping company thought so too from the way he looked at your resume with a strict gaze once more before resuming looking at you. You were fully expectant of another harsh sentence to slip from his sharp-toothed youth until...you heard a heavy sigh escape him.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, the very room seeming to react to the movement by the way the single light above you two flickered. His then he huffed. "There is a way to improve to improve your manners, however, you'll be learning from me personally."

You gasped. "Really?! Thank you so much, man!"

His ear twitched at the casual "man" you threw his way. "...Sir or mister is a more proper way of speaking to your male superiors."

You cleared your throat and uttered a 'sorry'. "The program will be for three weeks. Each week will be dedicated to a specific set of manners that you are to master if you wish to join the company."

"Which are?" You responded.

"The first week will be vocabulary, communication with clients, and the correct words to address people by," As Lyacon said this, he opened a drawer on his side before pulling out a piece of paper and sliding it to you. You slowly began to read over the paper, one that seemed like a contract of sorts as the wolf continued to talk.

"The second week will simply focus on posture."

You scoffed as your eyes flicked back up to his. "Posture? Ain't that just walkin'?"

"Proper posture is harder to achieve than one may assume Ms. Y/N." He said. "The third week will be—"

The sudden clearing of his throat made him stop immediately, your face suddenly but quickly turning red as you reached a section on the paper that caught your eye.

Complete submission is expected by those who train under Von Lycaon, especially those he offers "favors" to.

"F-Favors...?"

"Favors hint towards a sexual nature, if I'm to assume that was the inquiry to your question?"

In your former gang, you had heard about Von Lycaon and the whole attitude of the white wolfman. He was a pinnacle of perfection in seemingly everything he did! There didn't seem to be a single thing he half-assed, to put it crudely, and what's more? He didn't get distracted. So...for a document to suggest that he wanted submission during sex?

You didn't know if it was shocking or expected.

"I didn't expect the Lycaon to need a document to garner sex." You said.

A rare chuckle left him. "I don't," He answered. "But everyone learns quicker and better when praise and pleasure is included, correct? This is merely a suggestion for you to learn faster. You are more than welcome to opt out of this."

"And if I accept?" Upon that question, the corners of Lycaon's mouth curled up slightly as he slowly leaned in until you could just barely feel his breath.

"Then you will learn fast. On my honor, I promise you."

You should've said no to this optional part of the program. All you needed was a job and Lycaon made it clear that there was a sexless version of the program where you'd simply learn the old-fashioned way! No pleasure or sex included but...as your eyes steadily trailed over the thiren, you couldn't deny he was a handsome individual. It wouldn't be unpleasant in the slightest to have benefits while completing your training under him. And as you steadily came to that conclusion, your thighs beginning to clench underneath the desk.

The thiren briefly sniffed at the air before he closed his eyes and exhaled. He was as still as a statue for a brief moment before he cleared his throat and offered you a pen from his breast pocket.

"I didn't give you an official answer—"

"Your scent gave me a suggestion." His raspy voice in combination with the sudden feral look in his eyes...you all too quickly shooed away any doubts you may have had before you began to sign away on the line at the bottom of the paper. And once you did, sliding the paper gently back to the wolf, he read over it briefly before he folded it neatly and placed it back into a drawer.

"We shall begin Monday," Lycaon said. "Please be prompt and on-time, I don't tolerate tardiness."

"Yeah, yeah." You scoffed.

And thus, your training as a potential housemaid for the Victorian Housekeeping Company has officially begun.

. . .

| Week One |

You had slept in, you had forgotten to set a timer over the weekend, too engrossed with the fact that you had basically agreed to have sex with Lycaon during your three-week training! The second you arrived home, it was a struggle to not touch yourself to the thought of what he looked like underneath his kept-together appearance.

You imagined he'd be soft to the touch judging by how much fur he had.

Would he be firm with his gaze, demanding you to be perfect even in the heat of the moment? Or would be he gentle and accommodating with you?

No matter how much your body cried out for you to indulge yourself a little, you saved it until you experienced it for yourself.

But right now, as your head was bowed down in apology to the wolfman for making him wait over forty minutes to your first day. You had a strong feeling you wouldn't be experiencing anything pleasurable today. "Once again dude, I am SO sorry!" You said.

"I forgot to set a timer, then I wanted to stop and get some breakfast along the way—"

"Stop," He snapped his jaws with a growl seeming to bubble just underneath the surface, the sight of his fangs making you shudder out of fear and...the slightest hint of excitement.

"First appearances are important, the most important out of any interaction and you sullied it on your first day of training? How do you expect to work for the company with such a flippant attitude?"

"I said sorry—"

"Sorry does not cut it Ms. Y/N. Excusing being a minute or two late is another matter but forty? Punishment is the only fitting way to solve such blatant disregard for other people's time." At those chilling words, Lycaon took a single step toward you before he took your chin into his hand, his eyes scanning over your nervous form with a critical gaze before he eventually sighed.

"I have a punishment in mind, please see to it that you are undressed in my office within' five minutes, and be on time."

Your eyes widened to the size of saucers before you huffed defiantly. "I'm not doing that!" You yelled.

His ear flicked, to him? You sounded like an impudent child, screaming and doing anything to get out of being scolded by their parent. "No?" He tilted his head.

"No!"

A wolfish smirk crept onto his face. "Every minute you stand here is an additional minute to your punishment Ms. Y/N. Do take care to remember that."

And so, there you stood.

| + | + | + |

You wouldn't be able to claim that he wasn't patient for the entire duration you had a fit about being punished on the first day of training. For about ten whole minutes, you stood there staring at the thiren until you eventually got bored and decided that "your punishment wouldn't be that bad" and simply went to his office!

You sat on a black couch and waited and when Lycaon came in?

The way he so quickly got his hands on you felt like you were being thrown around by an uncouth beast, a complete switch from the gentlemanly wolf you were talking to just a few minutes ago.

Slap! "Count." He ordered.

"O-One—Ah!"

He tutted his lips with a shake of his head as his hand slapped against your ass again, your maid uniform tugged up to your midsection as he pinned your hands down with his free hand. "Proper communication is most effective when you're speaking clearly Ms. Y/N...also, it's "one, sir"."

Another slap against your red behind rang out in the air, your body jerking forward a little at the movement. "At this rate, you'll never reach fifty." He sighed.

"W-Wait...!" You begged. "J-Just give me a break...so I can c-catch my breath—" When he slowly inched his hand upward again, your eyes widened as you quickly remembered your manners. "S-Sir! J-Just let me catch my breath...please."

If your eyes weren't blurry with tears, your mind getting fuzzier and fuzzier as you tried to ignore the ache in your cunt. You could've sworn you saw his tail move a little. After a minute, however, a sharp gasp left your swollen lips when you felt a finger graze against your sex, the featherlight touch making you shudder as you whipped your head around to look at the Lycaon.

Unconsciously, his tongue poked out to sweep against his upper set of canines as he focused on how your slick oozed out from your pussy so shamelessly. But at the same time? He figured he shouldn't have been shocked at the lewd sight, his keen hearing didn't miss the way a tiny moan would escape your lips at each slap. It was as if you wanted him to keep going and didn't want your punishment to end anytime soon.

Such behavior wasn't befitting of a potential future employee at the company. "Are you done recuperating? If so, then let us continue."

"W-Wait..." You begged. "J-Just a little time- Ah!"

"Now, now—" He pressed his hand down on your wrists a little more, lightly pinching at your thigh with the tip of his claws to calm your squirming. "—If you focus and count Ms. Y/N then your punishment will be over very soon, please remain focused."

After a final warning, he was quick to resume his smacks against your ass. The pain and pleasure eventually blurring into one another enough for your brain to somehow find a way to "center" itself. And, after around twenty minutes...Lycaon finally released you from your bent-over position over his lap and got up.

A lingering rebelliousness in the back of your head wanted to curse out the wolf as he stood, fixing his cuffs until they were neat again as if he wasn't rocking a blatant boner in his trousers! Yet as your mouth began to open as he walked further away...it quickly shut when he started walking back to you after grabbing something from a bookshelf behind his desk.

"What is that?" You asked.

"Aloe cream, it should help with the burn and any burning sensations."

Oh, you thought.

How...nice of him.

At your silence, his head tilted as he sat down next to you. "Are you alright?"

"Huh? Oh, y-yeah...I just wasn't expecting aftercare." You blushed.

"Your work would be even more affected if I didn't do this, I wouldn't want that." Suddenly, your heart skipped a beat.

. . .

| Week Two |

You didn't want to admit it to yourself at the time but you knew full well as to why your heart skipped a beat that day. At first, you tried to joke and claim that you were a masochist starting to bloom! Von Lycaon was handsome, yes but you knew how to distinguish between work and personal lives! Besides, you wanted money more than you did romance and if the latter interfered with your money...you weren't in any shape or form interested in it.

But, at the second week's coming, this week focused on posture if your memory served correctly. You couldn't lie or joke to yourself anymore.

You developed a crush on your future boss.

And it grew harder and harder to deny that fact in your...current position. Naked aside from your short black heels, you were standing right in front of Lycaon with his pants pulled down just enough to reveal his leaking dick. The tip seemed to turn increasingly into an angrier red as you continued to stay frozen in place. "Are you uncomfortable?" Lycaon's words snapped you out of your thoughts before you shook your head.

"N-No sir! It's just..." You went quiet for a second. "How...how is this going to teach me posture?"

"If you would come closer, I will show you." Like a siren's song, the beckoning of his clawed finger made you take small steps forward until you were finally in front of him. "I'll be letting you take control of me for some time," You could've sworn you caught a smirk on his lips at his words. "If you manage to fuck me until I cum with the correct posture then consider your training done, and welcome to your new job as a new maid to the Victorian Housekeeping company. I'll be generous and not even include the third week of training."

"But—" As his hand found its way to your hips, he gently tugged you forward until he slowly maneuvered you to straddle him on his lap, his cock throbbing against your stomach as beads of sweat started to appear at the back of your neck. He reached the middle of your stomach, easily! And that wasn't even considering his girth. "—If your posture fails, you will unfortunately stick to the original training program. And I must warn you, most do not manage to get through week three."

You jumped a little when you felt Lycaon's hand move down to your pussy. "What are you doing?" You voiced out shakily, your clit throbbing at Lycaon's touch as one finger alone was enough to cover your entire clit.

"Preparing you of course," He said with an "obviously" tone. "No matter how much I can smell your eagerness in the air—" A sharp moan escaped your lips when his finger started to slowly move, your cheeks burning at the fact you let out such a noise from such little stimulation. "—I doubt you will be able to fully take me without a little prep."

"Y-You..." You bit your tongue to keep a curse from flying out, your hands quickly moving to his shoulders as you tried to ground yourself and not lose yourself too quickly to the pleasure. A task that you were quickly failing at as you felt a knot slowly begin to form in the pit of your stomach, scorching hot tears brimming your eyes as a single line of drool fell from the corner of your lips.

And Lycaon was enjoying every second of it.

If he were to be honest with himself.

He didn't want you to succeed this time.

After having so much fun with you last week, he would say that he had gotten a bit greedy. As entertaining as it was to tame your bratty behavior and mold it into something more palpable as someone who would be interacting with clients often, it was torture all the same to him to not shut you up with his cock instead! It wasn't enough to rut into his hand at the end of every day, heated pants leaving his lips as his tongue lulled out of his mouth like some common dog begging for a slip of meat.

To say that it was unbecoming of him to set you up for failure was an understatement, rubbing your needy bud until you nearly squirted on him wouldn't make you last very long when you were actually seated on his cock. And as cruel as it was for him to say...how unbecoming and un-gentlemanly it was...

He was so fucking eager for you to fail.

"S-Sir..." His ears perked to your whining as your head fell his chest, his ears then moving to the sound of lewd squelching coming from your pussy. "Please...I-I'm so close..." You whined.

He allowed himself to play with you a minute longer until...he took his finger away.

He struggled to withhold a laugh at your state, your eyes seeming to be confused and stuck between wanting to glare angrily at him or beggingly like a wanton whore for him to continue. "Don't look like that," He said. "If I were to make you cum now, you would be too shaky to fuck me."

You were too shaky now.

But, you'd first kiss the seat of a toilet lid before admitting defeat.

"I-I won't fail this..." You said with determination, although breathlessly.

His tail wagged ever so slightly at your determination. "We shall see," He responded before he relaxed against the couch with a deep sigh. "Please begin at your leisure Ms. Y/N." When you took him into your hand, you felt a surge of confidence at Lycaon's not-so-quiet sharp inhale of breath. You prayed that he was just as needy as you because as you lined him up to your entrance and started to slid him into you, every inch that sunk further into you made your mouth gap wider and wider until you were certain you looked like a gasping fish.

He rubbed against your walls so nicely too, his girth stretching you out just enough to where it made you drool as it touched spots inside of you that you hadn't had a clue existed until today!

"F-Fuckkkkk..." You moaned out once you were fully seated on him.

You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, desperately trying to ignore that burning feeling in your core as you began to move.

"Shit." Oh, how you just wanted to just shove a hand over his snout to keep him from letting out such sexy noises. His raspy voice and the way his thumbs rubbed encouraging circles into your hips...it wasn't good for you. You'd cum faster at this rate.

"Faster," Lycaon suddenly ordered, opening one of his red eyes to look at you.

"I...I can't- Oh!" Your words caught in your throat when he suddenly fucked up into you. A squeal nearly leaving your throat as you shut your eyes tightly to try and force back that urge to cum.

"Disobeying a superior now Ms. Y/N?" One of his hands slowly dragged up your back before it gently shoved you forward a little. Immediately, you fixed your posture although you nearly fell back over a couple of times. "You should watch yourself, my type of punishment for this act won't be very fun."

You doubted that.

But, as your hands tightened on his shoulders and you fucked yourself more quicker onto him. Tears started to flow down your cheeks more easily as you couldn't deny the burning feeling in your stomach anymore, how the way Lycaon's dick throbbed inside of you and pressed against your most sensitive spots...the urge to beg him for the chance to cum, just once was on the tip of your tongue but you tried to stay focused. "Oh my God..." He moaned deeply.

"Fuckkk..."

"A-Are you close?" You whined.

He scoffed. "Not even close," You felt your hopes nearly crash and shatter at those words. "But...your pussy feels so good on my cock," He praised, his tail thumping against the couch unabashedly as he stared up at you with hooded eyes and a feral gaze. "Perhaps, instead of a maid, you should be my personal breeding toy."

His smirk grew when he felt your pussy tighten around his cock.

"Yeah?" He asked. "You like that?"

You shook your head, shutting your eyes tightly as if not seeing him would help your situation anyway. However, as you felt a furred hand cup the side of your face, the feeling of breaths hitting your face. Your eyes slowly cracked open to the wolf thiren's face right in front of yours, panting and moaning with little to no shame before he smiled. "So pretty like this Y/N..." He said before his leaned down to begin pressing kisses to the side of your neck.

Briefly, the thought of whether or not this was a part of the training flashed in the front of your mind. But...as quick as it came, it was gone. You wanted to believe that...he wasn't following some manual when it came to his actions, that they were meant just for you and you alone. "You're so wet, making so much noise...I think I was right in my earlier suggestion hm? Maybe you will do better as my toy."

You shook your head. "Don't lie." He lightly nipped your shoulder, the sharp sudden pain being just what you needed to throw you over the edge before...Lycaon's ears moved to the sound of gushing and the feeling of wetness splashing against his pants and a bit of his thighs.

Without a second thought, his fingers shot down to gather some of your cum onto his fingers before he tasted you, a groan rumbling out as he almost shocked himself with how fast he got hard again. But before he could mention it, much less suggest it, when Lycaon returned his gaze to you. He saw you passed out against his chest, the very sight making him laugh ever so quietly before he sighed.

He supposed he was feeling a touch bit generous...he expected you to cum within seconds of fucking yourself onto his cock but it took you longer than that! To the point, he actually began to worry about cumming first or not! Although he had a mind not to be, he decided to be generous and forgiving seeing as you fucked him until the point of total exhaustion on your point.

He'd give you a passing A+ for effort.

[ldrfanatic]

r9 for mattheo riddle pls🙏

shakin', pacin', I just need you

mattheo riddle x fem!hufflepuff!reader

r9 - "for you I would fall from grace, just to touch your face"

gonna be at the dentist office w my bf for the next three to four hours so I'm gonna try and clear out my requests <3

lowkey I was praying someone would request this for mattheo

part two anyone?

y'all I could not find where I wrote down my mattheo taglist so if you wanna be added please please PLEASE comment on this post so I can start a new one thanksss

slytherin boys works

"y/n are you even listening to me?"

the voice of hannah abbot, a fellow hufflepuff, tore your eyes from your only slytherin friend albeit reluctantly. when you finally looked towards your friend, her mouth was turned up into a disapproving frown.

"no. I know you think he's your friend, but he's not."

she wasn't entirely wrong. afterall, you couldn't honestly say that you'd exchanged more than a few words with the boy, though it wasn't for lack of opportunity. he'd approached you on more than one occasion but neither of you ever seemed to actually speak.

really, it was because mattheo felt stumped by you. he'd spent a lot of time with different girls while he'd been at hogwarts. but when he tried to approach you, he fumbled. every. single. time. that was how he first knew you were special.

the kind of girl that made him want to face his father's wrath even though he knew that liking you would be more than enough for a crucio.

between your friends, his family, and his inability to articulate his thoughts around you, mattheo never really got the chance to talk to you.

that is, until now.

somehow, by the grace of the universe, snape had paired you with him for the d.a.d.a. project studying boggarts. you touched on them briefly in your third year but due to lupin's condition, didn't get the chance to finish them. for once, mattheo actually wanted to do schoolwork and do well on this project so you didn't resent him for a bad grade.

as class was dismissed, a hand softly grabbed your wrist.

"wait."

it was mattheo. he was actually speaking words to you rather than just sitting there and staring. it was almost unsettling if anything.

"d'you maybe wanna meet in the library after classes and..."

you smiled sweetly and nodded.

"are you sure you can handle it riddle? don't you have to be talking to someone to study with them?"

there was a teasing tone in your voice which caused mattheo's face to bloom and pink to tinge over the tips of his ears. suddenly, like a switch had flipped, a cocky smile took over his face.

"i can't help it if you take my breath away. maybe you just bring out the best in me like that."

caught off by his banter and yet undeterred, you continued.

"well we all know that you're at your best when you shut up."

you spoke the words with a teasing smile. his jaw fell promptly open at your words, completely surprised that a hufflepuff would say something like that. while mattheo attempted to collect himself, you shoved your dark arts textbook into your satchel and swung it up onto your shoulder.

"the library. tonight. 5pm sharp. don't be late riddle."

five o'clock could not come fast enough. potions with professor scalby was simply exhausting. she was a kind enough women which was a nice change from professor snape after she'd taken over the class following his promotion to d.a.d.a., but the woman had a love for potions that you could safely say no one else in the class really shared. unless you counted hermione granger, a sweet enough gryffindor also in your year.

by the time that scalby finished gushing about the amortentia your class would attempt to brew next week, you were sure you'd aged an entire year in this class alone.

finally, after what seemed like an eternity, class was dismissed. you quickly packed your books away and scurried off to the library, arriving a decent few minutes before mattheo sauntered in with an otherworldly confused look on his face.

"sorry i'm a little late. i got lost."

he spoke to you in a deep yet gentle rumble that had your heart beating a little faster in your chest. it was hard not to notice the way that he gawked at the old century library which was probably your favorite collection of books in the whole world.

"have you never been here before?"

mattheo's dark curls bounced atop his head as he shook it slowly. he looked down at his large hands with what appeared to be shame.

"i've never really taken an interest in school before."

wanting to make him feel better you gently bumped your shoulder into his as the two of you walked back towards the study tables.

"you're taking an interest now."

"in you."

his words made the both of you settle into a thick silence. though it was hard not to notice his lingered stares across the great hall or after a slytherin-hufflepuff match, it was the first time that he'd spoken words aloud that alluded to his feelings for you, and it seemed to catch the both of you off guard.

after a moment's pause, mattheo spoke again.

"i-uh, i don't know why i said that i'm sorry."

you reached your hand out from across the table where the two of you had settled down and grasped his hand in yours. you flashed him a reassuring smile.

"don't be."

abruptly, mattheo let out a strangled noise of frustration and tugged at his hair with his fingers.

"i can't do this anymore."

your heart thumped so quickly against your ribcage, you feared it might stop beating altogether.

"can't do what anymore?"

"this, y/n. i can't keep posing that i want to be your friend and do friendly things together like study at the library."

now your heart was breaking. hannah was right. mattheo riddle was not your friend and-- oh. mattheo riddle was not done speaking.

"i can't keep pretending when i want to be so much more than friends with you. when i want to do very not friendly things with you. to you. when i feel like throwing these books on the floor and yanking you across this table and pressing every part of your body against every part of mine."

instead of doing that, he stood from his seat and knelt in front of you. it felt weird to have the son of the dark lord on his knees in front of you all but begging you to be his girlfriend.

"i know i'm not the chosen one or anything and i'm never gonna be the good guy. but damnit if i have to stay away from you any longer i don't think i could stand it."

his confession stunned you into silence. how the hell could yoou possibly respond to that?

"say something, please."

a hopeful look had taken over his features. his brown eyes sparkled under the dim library lights.

"i don't care that you're not the protagonist mattheo. i would fall from grace for you."

---

<taglist>

@blobsblobician @helendeath

07.07.2024

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

What is Broken I (Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Wife!Reader)

The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy and related symptoms, infidelity, some pushing and hitting

Author's Note: It's finally here! Sorry y'all, this month a) I found out my dog has terminal cancer, b) I got covid, and c) my laptop randomly went kaput in the middle of an episode of the West Wing. But it's finally here! As it says on the taglist, this will be a three-part series.

Taglist is done via reblogs

Series Masterlist

What is Broken

It was a lovely night in King’s Landing.

There was not a cloud to be seen for miles, and the stars were bright and twinkling. The waters of Blackwater Bay were calm and reflected the full moon as clearly as a freshly polished mirror. Even the wind seemed in a pleasant mood, carrying the sweet scent of spring on its back as it drifted lazily through the windows of the Red Keep.

Every bit of it grated on her heart like a whetstone across dull steel.

The worst night of one’s life should not be so lovely, she thought. It should be terrible. With storms and an angry sea, and perhaps even a raging fire somewhere in the distance.

If the night had been so, she would not have seen it when, only a few moments ago, a massive winged form landed in the fields just outside the city with a lowing wail, the last person she wanted to see strapped to its back. Thankfully, Aemond was far enough away that she could not make him out against the mass of his mount.

The people would cheer him in the streets as he rode toward the castle. The victorious Prince, returning after long months at war, having not only ended the war itself but avenged the deaths of his eldest sister, brother, and his little nieces and nephews.

Daemon Targaryen and his dragon had perished above the God’s Eye, the waters below boiling when their bodies fell into its depths.

With the Rogue Prince gone, the war was swiftly over. Rhaenyra was killed, her last remaining son taken as King Aegon’s ward, and the royal host returned to King’s Landing victorious. Even Cregan Stark had agreed to halt his advance South, redirecting to Harrenhal for peace talks.

Harrenhal. A cursed place, now to be the site of great diplomacy.

Even thinking about the horrible castle was enough to turn her stomach.

A letter detailing exactly what had occurred within those melted stone halls during the war, written by the late Prince Daemon himself, sat on her vanity. A final act of retribution against his soon-to-be killer.

She knew that her husband was only returning home because of the letter.

My dear Princess, Despite the conflict between our sides of the family, I have always thought you a rather sweet girl. Therefore, it is with the deepest regret that I must now shoulder the burden of informing you of your beloved husband’s improper conduct during this awful conflict…

A pang of nausea shot through her stomach as she remembered the words.

A mistress… some Strong bastard… called Alys, my spies tell me… every night, without fail… from the very first week… another bastard babe in the whore’s witchly womb…

There was a pounding from within her, soft thumps and kicks as the life inside her own womb became unsettled by its mother’s roiling emotions. She laid a hand over her belly, whispering soothing words she did not believe to try and calm it – and herself.

Once, she would never have believed Daemon’s stories. But then word came that, after the final battle, Aemond returned to Harrenhal for less than an hour before he again mounted Vhagar and flew for King’s Landing. It was not like Aemond to make such swift decisions. Nor did it strike her as the action of an innocent man.

When she called for Ser Willis Fell, her heart had been filled with hope that the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard would dispel her worries. That she had only allowed herself to consider the possibility of Aemond’s infidelity because her mind was addled by her delicate condition.

“My princess, I cannot, in good conscience, tell you a lie…”

She had screamed then. And cried. And possibly thrown things at the Kingsguard, but she couldn’t entirely remember.

All she could remember was how Aemond kissed her on the day he left for Harrenhal. Deeply and passionately. Until she could feel his love for her as clearly as her own heartbeat. Then he knelt before her and placed a single, tender kiss to her belly, to where they had only just learned that their babe grew.

Less than a moon’s turn later, he had taken another woman to his bed, and seeded her, too.

Now he was returning home – in haste.

He knew, then. That Daemon had let slip his secret. Perhaps it had even been the Rogue Prince’s last words. Spat in Aemond’s face in the seconds before his body tumbled into the lake below. Had she not been caught in the crossfire, she might have admired it for the masterful manipulation it was.

But in seeking to destroy Aemond, Daemon had destroyed her as well.

She was broken from her thoughts by the distant sound of people cheering. Aemond was making his way through the city more quickly than she thought. The streets weren’t as crowded as she hoped they would be this late at night.

It was late. Far later than she had become accustomed to. These days, she was often in bed and asleep not long after the sun had set, hoping that she would somehow find a full night’s sleep. Never to any avail.

For a moment, she thought of slipping beneath the blankets and pretending to be asleep so she would not have to speak to Aemond until the morning. But he would only crawl into bed with her, and then he would see when she inevitably woke…

That was not a conversation she wanted to have today. Really, there was no conversation she wanted to have with Aemond, only that which must be had.

She was resolved that Aemond would not find her weeping or stewing in heartbreak. No, she would not let him think he held such power over her, even if he did. He always had, even when they were young children.

So, she resumed her nightly routine as though nothing was wrong, as if she was entirely unaffected by his betrayal. Sitting at her vanity, she began to unbraid her hair. Her maids usually did it for her, but she had dismissed them the moment she read Daemon’s letter, not wanting to see their pitying faces for longer than she had to.

Since learning she was with child, everyone – including her maids – fussed over her constantly. It was not without reason, she knew. There was indeed very good reason why everyone was so concerned about her. But after six months, she was tired of it.

Just the simple act of taking her braids out and brushing through her loose hair by herself brought a welcome feeling of independence that she had not felt in some time. Perhaps ever.

That feeling slowly faded away as the cheering and celebration from the city came closer and closer, until she could hear gauntleted hands clapping in the castle courtyard below.

Aemond was here.

Her hand fell to cradle her stomach and was immediately met by three quick thumps against her palm. She knew the child did not understand what was happening and was only responding to the touch itself, much in the same way a cat arches its back when petted.

Still, it comforted her. It made her feel like she was not alone.

“Kirimvossi, rūhossas,” she whispered with a smile before resuming brushing her hair.

Her smile did not last.

Sooner than she had hoped, she heard the clanking of armor as the guards outside her door straightened, bowed, then retreated.

A shiver went through her, stealing the air from her chest while cold gathered in her heart and began sinking to her stomach. Dragging her brush through her hair suddenly took great effort, as did every breath.

Yet it was surprisingly easy to banish the tears forming in her eyes and school her face into tired neutrality. To glance only once at the figure now lingering in the doorway before turning away without acknowledging him.

She did not know if it was strength or cowardice.

He called her name, his voice rasping and low – desperate. “We must speak.”

She did not respond. She didn’t even look at him.

Aemond sighed, calling her name again. “Please, my love. Look at me.”

Still, she did not move.

“Ābrazȳrītsos,” he said, a hint of command slipping into his plea. Little wife.

He had always loved calling her little. According to their mother, the first thing Aemond did when he saw her as a babe was exclaim, “She’s so little!”

Ever since, he’d been calling her little.

First, she was simply hāedus. Little sister.

Whenever she tried to follow Aemond when he went somewhere she wasn’t allowed or did something she wasn’t allowed to do, he would gently scold her, “Haedus, you’re too little.” Inevitably, she would cry. About half the time, her crying was enough to sway him.

Then, she became zaldrīzītsos. Little dragon.

“You’re my zaldrīzītsos,” he would say when she hugged him tightly after Aegon or one of the Strong boys mocked him for not having a dragon. She didn’t have one either, but she never felt she needed one, for she had Aemond.

For a time, she was maegītsos. Little witch.

Aemond had dubbed her so when she came to visit him in the Maester’s tower while he recovered from the loss of his eye. The Maester would give her some “special leaves” so she could brew a “magic potion” to help Aemond get better. In truth, the potion was simply tea. But Aemond always pretended that the potion had indeed worked miracles, just to make her happy.

Once he was healed, she was again zaldrīzītsos.

Since he finally had a true dragon, she worried that he would not want her anymore. When she came to him in tears one day as he was leaving the Keep to see Vhagar, he hugged her tightly and told her, “You will always be my zaldrīzītsos.” Then he brought her with him to ride Vhagar. It was the best day of her life.

Or it was, until the day they were officially betrothed, and she became raqiarzītsos. Little darling.

It was what he would call her every morning when he greeted her with a chaste kiss on the cheek. How he would summon her to his side at court events. What he moaned when they kissed unchastely each evening before saying goodnight.  

She had been so excited when she became his ‘ābrazȳrītsos.’ The first time he had whispered it in her ear at the wedding feast, she’d blushed so brightly that their grandsire inquired about her health. The next time he said it, Aemond made sure they were alone.

Little sister. Little dragon. Little witch. Little darling. Little wife.

Always little.

Once, the names had made her heart flutter with delight. Now, they only prompted another wave of nausea.

Aemond was everything to her – he always had been. She thought he felt the same way, but it seemed she was wrong. To him, she was just “little.”

She flinched at the sound of his voice, of that word. How he spoke to her like she was some frightened animal poised to lash out.

Yet at the same time, her heart melted to hear the voice she loved so dearly after so long an absence. Merely the sight of him in the mirror sent a feeling of warmth and belonging flooding through her.

She hated him.

She loved him.

She was angrier at him than she had ever been in her life.

She wanted nothing more than to run into his arms.

She could do nothing but continue to brush her hair and stare into her reflection.

Aemond sighed, finally stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. “You won’t even look at me, ābrazȳrītsos?”

She gave no answer.

He whispered her name again, “Abrazȳrītsos, please,” Aemond’s voice turned quiet as he reached her and set a hand on her shoulder as if to turn her around by force, but she wrenched herself out of his grip, staring down at the floor. Though she did not look at him, she could almost feel the misery on his face. “Please look at me.”

“If I look at you, I fear I will be sick,” she explained weakly. “I don’t want to harm the babe.”

His irritation began to surge, she knew it even without seeing him. His breathing quickened slightly, and she could hear the creaking of leather as he rolled his shoulders and balled his hands into fists – he had been so hurried he had not yet taken off his riding gloves.

“You are my wife,” he huffed. She could hear him attempt to contain the sharp edge of barely contained anger in his soft voice. At least he was considerate enough to hide it. “You are my sister – my blood. You love me as I love you, and you carry my child within you. Yet you cannot even look at me?”

Fury roared to life like a surging flame within her. How dare he be angry with her when he is the one who ruined everything?

“Why did you come back?” she spat back, quietly yet viciously.

His stare continued to weigh on her through the mirror. “I promised you the day I left that I would return to you when the war was done,” he said, half-smiling at the memory. “The war is over, so here I am.”

She shook her head. “The war is not over.”

“Of course, it is. Daemon and Rhaenyra are dead, and – ”

“The fighting is over,” she corrected. “But the war is not finished. Peace must still be brokered. As Prince Regent, that is your responsibility. Yet you are here rather than with the rest of the soldiers and politicians at Harrenhal. Why?”

She wanted him to be the one to say it.

Aemond sighed, raising a hand to touch her, then pulling away. “Is it so hard to believe that I missed you and simply couldn’t stand to stay away a moment longer?”

She was moving before she could process what she was doing, standing from the vanity and turning to face Aemond, her hand raised and ready to strike.

But he caught her arm by the wrist, stopping her moments before her palm could impact his cheek – his scarred cheek. His eye was wide, filled with sadness and shock in equal measure. He turned to look at her hand as if it was some kind of curiosity he had never seen before, like he couldn’t understand how it could ever be raised against him.

Tears were spilling down her cheeks when he turned back to her, and his expression gave over entirely to despair. Aemond opened his mouth, but words failed him.

He lowered her hand gently, bowing his head slightly to the right to give her an easier target.

It broke something within her.

She dove toward him, wrapping her arms around him as she cried into his chest, clinging to him as if he were her the only thing keeping her anchored to the ground.

But the moment Aemond moved to return the embrace, she shoved him away. It only moved him a step back, still within her reach. He did not move closer, and when she began to pound her fists furiously against his chest, he didn’t try to stop her.

“Why did you come back?” she demanded as she pushed him once more. “Why did you not just stay in Harrenhal with your whore and leave us alone?”

Aemond did not respond. His mouth hung open, but he said nothing. He could do nothing but stare at her, his eye flitting between her belly, where his child had grown –so much he could hardly believe it – in his absence, to her eyes.

Those eyes. A warm, rich brown that shone with gold in the firelight. It was Aemond’s favorite color. For whenever he saw it, in her eyes or their mother’s, he knew he was home.

But now those eyes he loved so dearly were filled with tears of his own making. He wanted nothing more than to see them dry and sparkling with love once more.

“Abrazȳrītsos, you must know I will always return to you,” he begged, stepping forward and cautiously placing a hand on her belly. Almost immediately, he felt a stirring within her, and a weak pushing against him.

His child.

Was it reaching for him, or pushing him away?

Before he could truly ponder either answer, his wife pulled away from him, her arms curling protectively around her abdomen.

He had to say something. Something to take her pain away, to make everything well again so he would have the chance to hold her and the babe. Even if it was a lie, he would say it if it made her forgive him.

“Raqiarzītsos,” he started, only for her to take another step away and scowl at him. He sighed as the realization of how deeply had hurt her truly sunk in. He softly called her name, “My love, it was one mistake. One moment of weakness, I swear –”

“Liar!” Her voice had grown rough with her fury, and Aemond flinched at the sound. He had never heard her shout like that, not even when she was a babe herself.

She saw his discomfort and reveled in it. Seeing him suffer a fraction of what she felt gave her a sinful spark of joy, one that she felt no need to beg forgiveness from the Seven for. She turned away from him and retrieved the letter from Daemon, panting as she looked over the words once more.

“A mistress now lies in your husband’s bed. She was a wetnurse at Harrenhal, some Strong bastard. She must be something truly special, for she is the only Strong – trueborn or bastard – to have survived Aemond’s rather thorough purging of the bloodline. I suppose it is now clear why. I have not been able to learn much about her. She is called Alys, my spies tell me.”

With smoldering eyes, she turned to Aemond and began to read aloud. “She reports to your husband’s chambers every night without fail, as she has done from the very first week he arrived at that cursed place. One of my spies even reported that he calls her to him after each battle or razing of some poor Riverlanders, as well as anytime he feels frustrated. It is no surprise, then, that there is another bastard babe in the whore’s witchly womb. Your brothers do have a fondness for seeding unsuitable women, don’t they?”

When she looked up from the letter, she found Aemond’s face set in anger, his fingers curled as though they were aching to grip his sword and run someone through. His eye flew from the letter to her face, the rage burning there only softening for a moment.

The left corner of Aemond’s mouth twitched upward involuntarily, and he jerked his head to the side to try and hide it. “You would believe Daemon’s word over mine, abrazȳrītsos? After all he has done?”

She let the letter drift back to the table. “If all I had was his word, I would not have believed it,” she explained. “But it is not only his word.”

Aemond exhaled slowly, looking away from her. Incensed as he was, he would not make her the target of his ire. Never her.  “Will you tell me who else?”

“No,” she answered, shaking her head slightly. There was a dark glint in his eye that promised violent retribution upon whoever she would name. No one deserved torture, or perhaps even death, for telling the truth.

With a nod, Aemond closed his eyes and bowed his head. He would not press her further, though she knew he would likely still try to find out who it was by other means. But in that moment, she could not bring herself to care.

She was so tired.

She had anticipated a long fight, and thought she was ready for it. In the hours she waited for Aemond’s return, she had carefully tended the spark of her anger so it would burn only when she commanded. But the moment she saw him, it escaped her grasp and became a wildfire in a dry grassland. It was fierce, quick, and lethal. In an instant, it had consumed every bit of her strength, leaving only the barest smoldering remains in its wake.

After a few more silent moments, Aemond again opened his eyes and looked down at his wife.

“I will not insult your intelligence by trying to deny it any further,” he said, clenching his fist to stop himself from reaching for her, “and I know there is nothing I can say to excuse what I have done. But my love, I truly am sorry. For what I did, and for the hurt I have caused you.”

She stared at him, trying to detect and hint of insincerity. She found none.

“I love you. I know I have given you ample reason to doubt that but…” he swallowed thickly. “I do love you, abrazȳrītsos. I always have and I always will. I know in my heart that the gods made us for each other. And if they had fated us to others, I swear I would have defied their will and ripped them from the heavens so that I could love you.”

He licked his lips and removed his gloves before offering her his shaking hand.

Perhaps it was the result of the weariness pervading her entire being. Perhaps it was the tug of an unborn babe reaching out, somehow knowing its father was near. Perhaps it was the sliver of her soul that had always belonged to Aemond beckoning her to rejoin him and become whole again.

Whatever the reason, despite the protestations of her aching heart and her rational mind, she put her hand in his.

It did not fit as well as it used to.

If Aemond noticed, he did not acknowledge it. He raised their joined hands to his lips to kiss before resuming his plea. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I will understand if you do not give it, but for the sake of my heart and the love we share, I must ask it. Abrazȳrītsos, can you ever forgive me?”

The world fell silent, and so did she.

If she focused, she could hear her heartbeat, along with two others, thumping out three different rhythms. It was discordant, yet somehow comforting. She listened to it for a moment, trying to hear a melody within it. But there was nothing.

She turned her attention to her hand in Aemond’s grasp. There was a welcome heat where his skin touched hers, but also a tingling numbness. A slight discomfort, akin to wearing new gloves before they had softened and molded to her hands.  

Then, she looked at Aemond. At the face that was more familiar to her than her own. It had changed in the last six months – more so than she would have expected. The color of his skin had deepened from so many days spent in the sun, and there were new blemishes that had not been there before. The shadows under his eyes, the roughness where it once was smooth, and the new smudge of a scar above the corner of his right brow.

All of it was strange. Known, yet unknown. Question, but no answer.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“What…” Aemond’s lip quirked again as he cupped her cheek with his free hand. “I don’t understand, what don’t you know, my love?”

She winced slightly at the foreign sensation of his hand against her skin. He had callouses now he didn’t have before. “I don’t know how to forgive you, or if I even want to. I just feel… tired.”

Aemond nodded, bowing his head once more to hide the disappointment he could not keep from his face, and looked at her belly. “Of course, you are tired,” he said, “I am sorry, I did not consider how late it was.”

She caught his eye flicking towards the bed – their bed, or at least, it used to be. A cold coil of panic began to wrap itself around her heart. He could not sleep here. He could not see…

“I would prefer if you slept elsewhere,” she said hastily before he could ask otherwise. “For tonight, I would like to be alone.”

Tears shone in Aemond’s eye for a moment, but he did not let them fall. He gave her a tight smile and again kissed her hand. “If that is what you wish, I will obey, but may I ask one thing?”

It would be foolish to say yes. Foolish to give him the opportunity to persuade her at all when she knew how easily he had always been able to sway her with his sweet words. Foolish to do anything but send him away immediately.

And yet…

“What would you ask?” she whispered, betrayed by the foolish little part of her heart and soul that was still and would always be his ‘hāedus.’

“I ask only for a few moments, and then I will leave, as you wish. But it has been half a year, abrazȳrītsos, since I have seen you, or heard your voice, or held you in my arms.” He squeezed her hand, drawing her attention to his face, open and earnest and pleading. “So for only a few moments, please, allow me to hold you again.”

His softly spoken words were like a siren’s song, and she began to feel faint as she struggled to resist falling under its spell. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, begging her mind to calm and think clearly.

“I promise, I will do nothing more than hold you,” he said, running his hand delicately over her cheek. “I just want to hold my wife.”

He did not deserve it, she knew. Nor did he deserve to be touching her as he did now, though she did not push him away. He did not even deserve her consideration of his request.

But it had been half a year for her, too.

Half a year with no one to kiss her good morning or good night. No one to carry her to bed when her legs and back ached. No one to hold her hair and whisper soothing words when she was sick.

She’d had her mother, her sister, and her maids. Even a Maester, at one very low point. But that was not the same. It was not the touch of a beloved husband.

Despite her anger, she was aching to be held by him.

“Just for a few moments,” she whispered through trembling lips. “Then you must leave.”

She did not have time to regret her decision before Aemond pulled her forward and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead as he thanked her. And before she could pull away, he was turning her slowly, so her back was pressed flush against his chest.

“It’s alright,” he assured her when she made a soft noise of confusion. “Trust me, abrazȳrītsos.”

His hands skated down her arms, his touch featherlight and yet searing. She gasped as he began to cradle her belly, her head lolling back into his shoulder. If given one more breath, she would have pushed him away, but then…

He laced his fingers together and took the weight of her belly into his own arms.

It was a rapturous feeling, to have the burden of it lifted from her and her eternally aching spine, even for a moment. She sighed in relief and leaned back further into her husband. Gratitude flooded through her, and her hands flew to rest over his.

“Oh, Aemond,” she breathed into his neck.

Gods, she had missed him so much. Everything would have been so much easier if he’d been here to hold her like this. He had always known been able to help her, she should have known that even with their first child, he would somehow know what to do…

Her eyes snapped open, and her blood ran cold.

This was their first child, but it was not Aemond’s only child.

He had another, far away, within a different mother. A mother whom he had been there for as she grew, Who, thanks to her role as a wetnurse, would be able to teach him exactly how to help.

“Did you hold Alys like this?”

Aemond stiffened behind her, and his grip tightened. “Abrazȳrītsos…”

“Don’t lie to me, Aemond. Not anymore.”

Silence, then…

“Yes, I did.”

She seized his hands and ripped them apart, tearing herself out of his grasp as quickly as she could, heedless of him reaching for her. Stumbling, she crossed the room before turning back to him, eyes blazing through new tears.

“Do not ever touch me like you touched her,” she spat. Her rage had reignited, the barren grassland now an endless field of flame.

Aemond’s mouth hung open as he looked to her in despair, his arms held helplessly in front of him. His voice broke as he said her name – a plea. “I just wanted to hold you. To help you.”

“And you did. For a few moments, just as you asked. Now leave, as you promised.”

He was looking at her like she was a wild beast, primed to lash out should he make one wrong move. But she didn’t mind, for that was exactly what she felt like. He had made her feel that way, and she hated him for it.

Aemond just stood there, and she could see his mind working desperately to figure out what to say to placate her. She would not give him the chance.

“Leave!” she screamed, her voice ripping its way out of her throat, burning as it went. She could not help but wonder if that was what dragons felt when they breathed fire.

Lowering his arms, Aemond nodded. “I will leave, abrazȳrītsos. Just as I promised. I am sorry.”

“I don’t care.” She meant it. His apology meant absolutely nothing to her raging, broken heart.

She watched him carefully as he turned and walked through the door, ready to rage at him again if she needed to. Perhaps she would actually breathe fire the next time.

Aemond did not try anything to soothe her or convince her to change her mind. The warrior prince knew when a battle was lost. But she knew he had not yet ceded the war.

That much was clear when he paused in the doorway, looking back at her in determination. “I love you, abrazȳrītsos, and nothing will ever change that.”

Then he closed the door, and was gone.

But she could not stop crying, for she knew he would return.

Worse, she knew that as angry as she was, she loved him, too. And nothing would ever change that, either.

-

[eisdendrobium]

𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

pairings : ayato x reader summary : you're in a loveless marriage with ayato, you thought you could make it work at first but it seems impossible, so you left.

note : heavy angst, not proofread, sad ending (sorry y'all), nothing else - enjoy ^^

this is a part 2 of "glimpse of us"

yeah he's gorgeous but that's all he is. all you've ever liked in him. never once did he ever bring you joy

"let's get a divorce ayato." ayato snaps out of his trace and looks up at your eyes. taken aback.

"what makes you get to this point, [name]?" he place his tea cup down and asked you calmly.

you let out a sigh and straighten your posture, "i know you still love her ayato. I know the 'secret' letters you sent her and the letters you received from her. and i know, i know that i came and ruined your relationship with her. So, why stay in this loveless marriage right? torturing ourselves every single day"

a small smile forms on ayato's lips, yet his expression is unreadable.

"... yeah, i'm sorry [name], but,, i'm afraid we can't. what will our family thinks? what will the people say when they see us divorced?"

a hand went up to ruffle your hair. frustrated.

"i know. i know it's for our family, but i'm not going to waste my life just for politics ayato, and so should you.."

"i..."

"i'm tired of this, please understand me. i've tried to make this whole thing works alright? i've tried to make us work so many time yet you never seemed to put any effort in this"

———

finally back to his beloved, ayato felt like he's the happiest man alive. All the catching up, the i love you's, the casual and fancy date ayato does with her to fill up his one year yearning.

"look ayato! i've bought you dango!" she smiles while showing a pack of tricoloured dango

ayato couldn't help but smile, taking the dango and eating one of it.

"ayato? i've made you dango! thought you could use a break,, there's also milk tea! i know how much you like dango milk"

"are you alright love? is it bad?" ayato didn't even realize his smile falter as he looks to the ground. why would he think about you? maybe it was a memory to appreciate you. that's what he say to himself.

but somehow it keeps on happening.

"how's the food love?" "what do you think, ayato?"

"oh how fun! let's go make a sand castle love!" she laughed while dragging ayato by the hand. "woah... the view is breathtaking during sunset, thank you for bringing me here, ayato" you thanked, eyes focused on the orange ball of fire.

"oh love... this is the third milk tea you've had this week, you know it's not good to consume too much.." she said, gently taking the bottle from his grasp "are you drinking milk tea again? you know it's not good to consume too much of it.." you said, concerned.

too much. it's too much for him to handle.

why are you there? why are you haunting him? the thought of you is eating him alive. what is it he asked, guilt? regret? you're happy now. probably with someone new, someone who actually loves you. So should he. right? so why is it so hard to let you go?

his night were constantly filled by your smile, your laugh, you.

"My Lord, there's a package for you" thoma enters the estate one day, carrying a rather small box.

taking it from thoma and giving him a thanks, ayato opens the box and sees the small gifts he once gave you in act of formality towards you and your family.

slowly picking one of them up, he spot a letter under it, opening it he reads what was written:

to Lord Kamisato,

hey... i was sorting things out and find these gifts you gave me, thought i should return it to you.

signed, [name]

closing the letter he scavenge into the box as he recalled the day he gave you each of those trinkets.

"ooh who gave you those gift love?" she asked, entering the room

"uhm.. i'm not sure darling" standing up from the chair he excuse himself out.

ayato needed space, he needs to think - i don't even know what is there to think really, there's only one obvious answer.

he crimple the letter and rush towards your house.

halfway there rain started pouring and thunder starts dancing around the sky, seems like the universe is not letting him meets you yet he push through. he have had enough of this whole thing.

\

a knock was heard through your door, 'who could it be?' you thought. standing up from the sofa you make your way towards the door and opens it only to find someone you've least expected.

ayato, drench in rain, breathing heavily - looking at you intently, his violet eyes dancing with yours.

"ayato? what are you doing here?" and without warning he hugs you.

he hugs you? this is the first.

neither of you break away from the hug for a while, you're too shocked to push him away, and him getting too comfortable embracing you.

"i'm sorry [name], i'm sorry.." he mumbles as he pulls you closer.

finally regaining your composure you pull away from him,

"why don't you come in and change first hm? then we could talk" you move and gesture him to come which he gladly did.

after changing he joins you in the tatami room. it was quiet, yet ayato finds it comforting. the only sound that could be heard was the rain outside and the fireplace, the perfect ambience to live in for ayato.

"...so....wanna explain why you came?" you starts, eyes never leaving the fire.

"yeah, uhm.. [name], you've been on my mind lately.. and i couldn't help but feel these negative emotion around me,,, i just- .. i thought maybe talking about it with you would help" he explains

"was it because of the package i sent you?"

"no- well.. that package was what pushed me to came here... [name] i know i wasn't the husband material then and i know you're happy now, but i can't.. stop thinking about you, about us. and i know it's wrong, i know it's cruel but i just can't help it" he turns his whole body towards you. totally breaking his character.

finally turning your head to look at him you answer, "yeah, it is cruel ayato. i've tried everything to make us work but you threw all of it away without even glancing at it, and now you're asking me to what? take you back? what about your lover? you loves her and so does she"

"i know! i know i messed up badly and truth is i'm still a mess right now [name]" he cover his face with desperation and ruffle his hair.

silent took over the atmosphere as you think about it.

you gave him your everything, your love, time, effort, everything. yet he gave you nothing in return. what's in it for you if you gave him another chance?

"..i'm sorry ayato." ayato looks up towards you and sees that you've already averts your gaze towards the fireplace.

quickly standing up ayato make his way towards you, kneeling in front of you, taking your hands in his "no.. please [name]" he whispers

"i loved you ayato, but now,, i just wish you'd stay in my memories. you're happy with her and that's it. don't make this any harder for me.." you look down towards your interwind hand and slowly pulling them away from his grasp.

"please.." he whispers once more.

shaking your head and raising your head to look at him with a sad smile "i can't" you whispered in return.

ayato let his head fall along with the tears, staining your clothes.

closing your front door you finally cut the relationship between the two of you. slowly you feel your eyes stinging as the tears finally starts flowing.

why did he came? why did he have to ruin all of your effort to move on and let him go?

you're supposed to put him in the past, and you did. So why are you crying now?

"i'm sorry ayato.. but i have to do it for me.." you say quietly towards ayato's retreating figure from the window.

\

a few months after you finally found someone, a person you loved and who loves you just as much.

ayato finds that fact lovely yet crushing at the same time. he said that he’s happy for you yet he knows that he’s lying to himself, missions after missions he did just to forget you. busying himself so he wouldn’t drown over the fact that he’d been replaced.

he saw you once in one of the stores buying sweets with a guy, you looked happy— in love, maybe that’s more accurate. ayato felt like the world stop spinning for a moment as he spied over you and your beloved.

that moment was his before, yet he didn’t cherished it like he should.

you were his but now anymore. that’s the fact that he’s trying to accept.

he’ll be marrying his beloved next month, the kamisato family finally agreed to do it and he’s happy about it. it’s everything he had dreamt of!

so why is there a longing for you? a desire to just leave everything behind and take you with him, away from everybody else?

oh how history is repeating itself. what a cruel thing.

a/n : reblogs are greatly appreciated! and please feel free to comment what you think about this fic ^^

taglist : @ayatoslovelywife @kawaiiskeletoneggsnerd @alexiris @yummyberry @starlightaura @tiredasiandaughter @almond-t0fu @clevercatprotector14 @ilovemilfs1111 @rose-ly @genshinloversposts

[theobsessedcookiefan]

Oh oh I have a good one what if y/n cookies was lover of the five beast and they see them get corrupted as how is they reaction seeing them crying broken heart saying please please please PLEASE give him/her back give me back my beloved cookie of volition/ knowledge/change/ happiness/ solidarity I want them back to me I’m will do anything just please turn back to normal

NOOO.. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO... Alr, I'll do it bc I like to torture myself and y'all need to suffer with me 😠😠😠

I'm going to make different names for the pre-corrupted beasts!! Bc I seriously doubt they were named that way before 😓😓

I read somewhere that Burning Spice was called Warming Spice before?? I'm not sure tho- but I'll use that name!! I'll try to be original in the names but if it gets too close to other names that other people give them then I'm so sorry bc I probably saw it and don't remember 😓😓😓

Ohboyitendeduplongerthanexpected

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Life is a bitch sometimes, it can give you everything you ever desired and take it back in an instant, were you too egotistical? Did you broke the universe balance by being too happy? Maybe it wasn't fair, you lived happily with the best Cookies you've ever met, compassionate, heroic and righteous, the whole package if you could say so, and they loved you oh so much, so much that they would sacrifice everything for your well-being and happiness, to protect your smile; the prettiest smile they've ever seen.

You remember when it started, the first warning came that damned week, you, Blueberry Milk and Saccharine Sugar were helping the locals to make a new orphanage, having a gift exchange game for the kids, at one moment the adults had to bring the food from the first location and left the kids with both of you, they were quite the handful if you were being honest but what could you expect from little cookies? You decided that maybe a little game would calm them down, but you were so busy, not noticing that your partners were getting stressed, when you came back with everything to play you saw half the kids laying down in the ground, obviously you panicked, trying to see if they were breathing or not but thank the divines they were only asleep. When you found the other you saw quite the scene, Saccharine Sugar was playing a melody with her harp and Blueberry Milk was helping the kids to lay down more comfortable in the floor, once he saw you she shook her a bit, she blinked and the music stopped, making the kids wake up, it wasn't that bad but you still told them not to do that again. If only you could've been there when they got the idea..

The second warning came at a perfect afternoon in White Flour's temple, it had been a busy day for her, many cookies came searching for her to make their wishes reality, she seemed extremely tired after all that work so you offered your lap for her to rest her head on, she ended up telling you about how greed changed some of them, how many of them wanted money and gems, it was disappointing really. If only you reassured her that that money could be used for helping people..

The third sign was the fights between Sea Salt and Warming Spice, those two had always been close and used to spar to improve their fighting skills so you were used to it, but that day it ended up with both of them badly injured, you remember running to stop the reddish cookie from using the sharp end of the blade, your worried expression and tone of voice seemed to snap them both of some kind of trance and so you told them to go directly to the healer of the village. If only you were there with them when they fought again..

Then it all faded to chaos, maybe they realized they held all that power or grew bored of the routine? Either way you remember standing in front of a destroyed village, cookie's screams sounding everywhere, it was such a horrible vision, you couldn't even start to comprehend what happened, that was until you heard that melodic voice, it was Saccharine Sugar! Was she hurt too? The virtues were the heroes of the village, they obviously fought against whatever destroyed right? Right..?. Without other thought in mind you ran to where her voice could be heard and what you saw was horrifying, her wings were creating big gusts of wind that were destroying the houses around and she was laughing at it.. She was actually enjoying it. It couldn't be! She was the most gentle of the five, she couldn't find pleasure in hurting others could she? No, not your Saccharine Sugar, not her. You ran towards her extending your hand to try and reach her, she didn't expect you to appear so the wind stopped and you were able to hug her, thing that surprised her.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

"Please.. Please stop, we can find a solution for this, just stop, we can rebuild the village, I know they'll forgive you, just stop please."

It was a desperate plea more than anything else, but she didn't respond, her face expressionless and soon everything faded to black for you.

When you woke up you didn't recognize the place you were in, that was until you looked up, it was night time already? You could've sworn it was afternoon before.. Before.. Oh no, without thinking it twice you got up as quickly as you could, starting to run, trying to see if you could identify the place you were in, you ran for a while until you found one of the villagers hiding behind a barn, a barn? Oh! You were on that area, you got closer to the Cookie hiding and they told you how the virtues started to destroy everything they saw, how many of the villagers didn't survive the chaos and how the remaining were trying to escape but every entrance to the village was guarded by one of them, that was good, at least you knew where your partners were now, you thanked the villager, telling them to hide inside the barn instead and that you would stop the virtues. Oh how wrong you were.

You found them? Yes of course you did, they were guarding the entrances like that villager said, but they were different, not only their appearance but their personality, you remember trying to get to each one of them, pleading for them to stop this madness;

"Please, don't you see you're hurting others? You're supposed to protect them! We can still fix this!"

"If you continue with this you'll only get far away from yourself, please come back, I'll talk to everyone and try to make them understand what happened!"

"I know you care about them, you're not as apathetic as you act, I promise we can solve this together! Just please.."

"Come on.. This is just cruel and you know it! Your plays are supposed to bring others joy, not pain!"

It didn't work, at the end they just looked at you as if they didn't had any idea what you were talking about, as if this was what they were meant to do. Maybe they couldn't be saved? Maybe they were supposed to end like this? Probably, maybe this was what the witches wanted all along..

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

[7ndipity]

Dating Jungkook headcanons

Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: some swearing, a lil suggestive, I think that's it

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this, I've never written a list like this before so it's a little scattered, sorry. Anyway I'm very soft for this man now, goodbye.

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Dating Jungkook is, for lack of a better word, messy. But like in all the best ways.

Late night hangouts when y'all can't sleep and you just end up at the local convenience store, eating snacks or whatever and talking until you notice the sun coming up.

I know I wrote a lil blurb abt it already, but karaoke dates are a regular occurrence. Doesn't matter if you can sing or not, y'all are just having a good time seeing who can hit the highest note(it's him, sorry)

He's one of those people whose friends probably tease cause he says "my s/o is my best friend". But he actually means it, you are his best friend.(I really feel like he would fall for a friend, but that's a discussion for a ot7 reaction I'm working on for next week👀)

Acts really cocky sometimes, but will fold like a house of cards(ha) into the softest boi at the slightest provocation from you.

He's fucking whipped for you, and he knows it.

Was so nervous to kiss you the first time that he legit backed out like three times before it finally happened.

Probably has some kind of nickname for you like "my light" or "my life."

But on the other hand, y'all also tease each other relentlessly, it's like a second love language with him.

Like he will sit there while you're trying to read or smth and poke your cheeks until he gets a reaction out of you.

Will make height jokes, even if you're only like 1in shorter than him.

"Tiny baby." He coos while patting your head. "I'm gonna climb up there and kill you." You warn. "So tiny, so precious."

But if he catches anyone else giving you a hard time about something, God help them.

Possessive(*cough perilla leaf debate)

Gives you his sweatshirts to wear because you look cute in them, but also loves that it's a subtle sign to anybody else that you're his.

This goes both ways though, he loves when you call him yours.

The first time you called him "your boyfriend", he legit short-circuited for a second.

Would probably have matching, macrame type couple bracelets that y'all made together for your second or third month anniversary.

Protective AF

Does that thing where he makes sure you walk on the inner half of the sidewalk when are you're out together, so you're protected from the street?

Not big on Pda exactly, but usually has an arm around you or is holding your hand. He doesn't even realize he's doing it sometimes, it's just kinda become a habit to have you close as much as possible.

He gets so little time with you as it is, so he just wants to make every second count.

When it's just the two of you though, he becomes a fucking koala and will NOT let you go.

Clings to you like his life depends on it.

Begs you to stay over all the time, swears that he can't sleep well unless you're next to him.

At this point, you might as well move in, half of your shit's at his place already anyway.

Looks at you like you're a literal dream.

Like some mornings when neither of you are really awake yet, you look over and he's just staring at you over your coffee mug like🥺

Loves to make you flustered tho

Like, if he notices you have a thing for his arms, he's gonna take every chance he can to roll his sleeves up in front of you just to see your face go red.

Randomly walks up to and gives you these deep, intense kisses and then? just fucking walks away as if nothing happened? Like, nuh-uh, get your ass back here and finish what you started sir!

Talks about your future together with such casual certainty. Like "when we get married, we should get a house like that".

Refers to Bam as your child.

Idk where I'm going with this or how to end it, so I'm just gonna stop here, but yeah. I just think he's neat lol.

[cringe--is--dead]

𝖀𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖞𝖆 𝕳𝖆𝖏𝖎𝖒𝖊 𝖝 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗; 𝕬𝖗𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖉 𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝕻𝖙. 3

𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝕺𝖓𝖊

𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝕿𝖜𝖔

𝓐/𝓝: again, I go into writing these as blind as y'all reading them so I'm so sorry if this is rushed! >.< Also! It's been a hot second! So sorry! I had a bit of... a mental health crisis, got myself put under a bit of a 72-hour hold... but I'm here! And back! Kind of. I'm not super proud of this chapter, I'm so sorry!

It had been a few days since your arrival, since your official first meeting with the man who was to be your husband. Yet, though you assured him and Kotoha you were well rested now, that's all he remained. The man who would be your husband.

It was almost... frustrating to deal with. Your first meeting with your oldest brother's wife was at their wedding; she was beautiful, quiet in her white, lacey, dress. It was quick, you were scolded when you fidgeted in your dress, and your brother and his wife took off not long into the reception. The same thing happened when your second and third brother got married, and it wasn't until you turned thirteen you had learned what happened after a wedding such as those.

Your sister's wedding had been different, the man she had married was kind with both his words and his actions. He allowed your sister to mingle with her family, mainly you and your mother, before he introduced her to people he knew; those he did business with, his own family that had managed to show up and, looking back on it you realized now, a handful of his concubines.

Though she hadn't been taken to bed right then, the wedding was still a quick affair, and you were beginning to question why Umemiya was prolonging yours.

"You seem upset by something."

You thanked the years of etiquette practice that you didn't jump and drop your spoon, merely turning your gaze towards Kotoha who was sending an almost pitying look your way. You placed the spoon down, hands falling to your lap.

"I'm just thinking, I suppose."

Cherry meowed quietly, upset that Kotoha had stopped petting her. Your future sister-in-law continued to pamper her, studying your figure, "Is something the matter?"

"I'm just..." You bit your tongue.

You were allowed to speak freely here, so far. But you were worried that there was a line you'd accidently cross.

"Go on," Her voice was kind, reminding you, in a way, of your own mother.

"It's been about a week since I arrived here, and well," You twisted the fabric of your outfit in your hands, the clothe more comfortable to move around than the ones you grew up in, "There's been no discussion of when I shall be married to Umemiya officially. Have I... done something to offend him since arriving?"

You can only imagine how angry your father's letters will be once they begin arriving. At this rate, you had been gone for months, and he hadn't received one word of your wedding. You wouldn't be surprised if he appeared on one of his ships, demanding answers.

“No, you haven’t done anything,” Kotoha leaned towards you, gently placing her hand atop of yours, the warmth comforting, “I promise you. He’s just… working on finishing a few things.”

“And those things happen to be completed!” Umemiya’s voice was loud and boisterous, having the two of your startle where you were, turning to see him walking towards you, a large smile on his face.

“Kotoha, if I can borrow my fiancé for a moment?”

You felt your cheeks warm at the title given to you. Yes, you knew logically since you two were to be married you were his fiancé, but he said the word with so much warmth.

She looked from him to you, before nodding, telling you she’d find you later, and leaving you two alone. You weren't entirely sure what to say; he must have known you were growing rather antsy to wait, not that you would have disclosed that to his face.

If he was anything like the men you grew up with he would have exploded at you by now, reminding you that your opinions and your annoyance was of no importance to him, to know your place. Instead he smiled at you, and it was as warm and welcoming as it was the first time you ever saw him.

"I know you must hate waiting as long as you have been," He began, gently taking your hand in his and tugging you to follow him down the hall, leading you towards the entrance to the estate, "But I promise you, I think it will have been worth it."

You merely nodded, unsure of what it was he was planning. Maybe he had more business to attend to before becoming a married man? Granted, there was really only one type of business you could think of that would be affected direly due to his marital status, and though you may not know him all too well, you felt as if that wasn't within his character.

Outside the estate was an older woman, much shorter than you, accompanied by a man a few years older than you both. He was holding some type of clothe cover, allowing the older lady to gently fuss over whatever it held.

"Granny!" Umemiya paused, and you followed suit, nodding your head politely while he bowed towards her.

She turned, a serine smile on her face when she saw the pair of you, "Oh goodness! Umemiya-kun wasn't lying, you're quite beautiful young lady."

"Oh," You felt your heart skip a beat in your chest, cheeks ablaze as you thanked her, glancing towards your fiancé who didn't look ashamed at the statement.

"I know our traditions regarding weddings are rather different," He turned towards you quickly, and you felt a bit confused as to what the point he was going to make was, "So I had Kotoha and Tsubaki find different styles and ideas that were closest to Western wear that they could, and we commissioned this for you."

The lady began gently unwrapping the cloth her son, or grandson, was holding. Your knowledge of Japanese wedding kimonos was rather limited, but you knew immediately that the dress before you was not one. It was beautiful, to say the least.

It was far less showy than the dresses you had seen at all your siblings' weddings, but that was fine with you. The fabric appeared rather light, swaying in the gentle breezes that danced past. It wasn't too thick, no extra padding or extra fabric that would make your skin itch and crawl.

"It's beautiful," Was all you could muster to say, eyes wide as you stared at the dress-- at your wedding dress.

"I'm glad you like it, my dear," She quickly wrapped it back up, ushering her son to take it inside, "It was quite fun to make, I made sure the fabric was softer than the poor examples Tsubaki-chan brought me. The dresses your father sent with you were rather uncomfortable, I do hope you'll let me make more clothes for you in the future. Your children, too."

"C-Children?"

"Alright, granny!" Umemiya cut in, pointedly, but not unkindly, all while the older lady giggled rather mischievously, "We've got one more place to go to, thank you for the gown."

She waved you two off as he led you two out, hand on the small of your back as he ushered you out. The estate wasn't quite as large as the one you grew up in, but it was large none-the-less, and you two were quickly eloped in a comfortable silence. He had yet to move his hand from your back, and the touch was burning, in an unfamiliar way.

It was rather... nice.

"Thank you. For the gown. It really is beautiful."

He smiled, eyes crinkling as he chuckled, "It's your wedding as well, I wanted to incorporate some things from your culture as well."

"You didn't have to."

He shrugged in response, "But I wanted to."

He wanted to. For you. Your heart fluttered once more, your chest squeezing uncomfortably, and you quickly looked away from him, studying the cherry petals that danced in the afternoon breeze.

"I know that this marriage isn't something you had asked for," It was startling how quiet he had become, his voice lacking the boy like charm or the energy it had contained before.

"But I promise you I will do everything I can to be the best husband for you, I'll make sure your needs are always met, that you're never left unhappy or wanting." He had stopped walking at this point, and, in turn, you had stopped as well, facing him with wide eyes.

"You will have freedom here, to study and learn whatever your heart desires. You'll be able to help with decisions for the town if you so choose, your opinions and voice matter her," Your hands were in his, and you dropped your gaze to them.

They were much larger than yours, and you could feel the callouses on the palms of his hands. He worked hard, he held power over his town, but he worked with them as well as for them. You'd seen first hand these past few days how many people felt comfortable and safe coming to him with problems, requesting aid or help, and how quickly he was to ensure they received that help.

"I- I don't doubt it," Despite how certain he always seemed, you could hear the vulnerability in his voice, the desire to make sure you believed the words he was saying to you, "You... have been far kinder than most men in my life before now."

He nodded, and you glanced up, noting that, while that seemed to assure him, the sentence seemed to make him deflate a tiny bit. The melancholy look was quickly replaced, movement seeming to catch his attention. He nodded over to where he was looking, and after a moment of confusion, you looked over, curious as to what he was trying to show you.

"It's rather beautiful here," You felt your mouth open, a gasp much louder than intended falling from your lips, "Seems a rather nice place to settle down."

You were taking off down the pavement before you realized it, warm tears budding in your eyes as you ran. For how quickly you made your way to your destination, your sister had managed to drop the bag she had been holding, uncaring as it fell into the grass. You all but fell into her arms, sobs of-- what? Happiness? Sadness?

Whatever you were feeling, you were sobbing in your big sister's arms, her holding you as close as she had when you were a mere child. Her hands were combing through your hair, and you felt a few warm tears of her own fall onto your head.

"You look beautiful in your kimono, darling," You laughed, squeezing her tighter.

Some part of you was vaguely aware of Umemiya walking to join you all, greeting her husband, the pair of them allowing you two your moment as they directed where the bags should be sent to.

Finally, you pulled back, sure your face was blotchy and red in all the wrong places, "What are you doing here?"

Her hands cupped your cheeks, thumbing under your eyes as she rid you of the few tears still falling. She smiled, looking as radiant and beautiful as she always did to you.

"I'm here for your wedding, silly goose," She placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, "Your fiancé sent us letters as soon as you departed from father's, we would have been here sooner but we ran into a minor storm on the way here."

Before you could panic over that idea she shushed you, "It's all fine now. We just may have to stay a bit longer now," She winked, "Just to ensure our ship is in top shape."

"You all are welcome to stay as long as you please," Umemiya spoke, and you turned to him; he was smiling, a true smile, large and happy and warm and everything you were feeling in that moment, "We have enough room."

Your sister stepped back, thanking him, her husband moving to pick up her bag, smiling softly at you, "It's nice to see you again."

You nodded, rubbing at your nose, "You as well."

Umemiya shifted to stand a bit closer, "I hope the waiting seems worth it, I was hoping things could have worked out perfectly, but I'm not one who can control the weather. Nor do I understand making clothes, Tsubaki scolded me every time I went to check on your dress--"

You threw yourself towards him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, having to stand on your tiptoes as you pulled him into a tight hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you so much." You felt as if you sounded borderline hysteric, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

He wrapped his arms back around you, the weight on your waist oddly comforting, grounding.

"Anything for you," You pulled back after a moment, flat on your feet as you looked up to him, "I mean it."

A/N: part four will (should be) the wedding! and maybe more!

[daddy-dins-girl]

Rush

pairing: Dave York x f!Reader

No use of Y/N. No physical description of reader other than that she has hair long enough for Dave to grab... (mood board is for aesthetic purposes only)

Word Count: 5.7k

summary: You're a part-time nanny for the beautiful York family. The money is good, the job is easy, and on days when Mr. York works from home, well, those are more than enough incentive to keep you coming back. (Literally this is just PWP and I'm sorry, not sorry).

notes: the Dave York brain rot is so real y'all. I'm sorry, I know I owe you updates on other stories still! Also, this is my first moodboard EVER. How'd I do? lol.

warnings: 🔞 18+MDNI. PWP (this is basically just smut y'all). Infidelity (is it even Dave York if he's not cheating on his wife?). Implied age gap I guess? (Reader is mentioned to be in college but no actual age is specified. Dave is in his 40's). Dom!Dave York. Degradation kink. Cockwarming. Oral sex (f and m receiving). Protected p in v sex. Inappropriate behaviour during a Zoom call (Dave York is a menace and I will not apologize for that). One ass slap (as far as Dave goes I'd say this fic is a tame one).

My masterlist

A03 link

It’s like you have developed a Pavlovian response to even seeing his name pop up on your screen with the notification alert. You practically start drooling before you even open it to see what he’s said or sent you, you just can’t help yourself. There’s a heat that runs through your veins and you feel it down to your toes, the rush that comes over you over the simple four words displayed across your screen.

Incoming Message: Mr. York

You tap the message to open it and can’t even pretend to ignore the heat that floods your abdomen when you click again and open the attachment inside. The attachment your employer just sent you.

You bite your lower lip as your gaze quickly darts around the room, ensuring nobody is around to see your reaction. The girls of course are with you but they’re planted directly in front of the television, currently mesmerized by Elsa, for the third time this week, not that you’re counting, while you sit dutifully behind them on the sofa. Mrs. York is out shopping or getting her hair done or running errands or whatever it is she does for most of the afternoon that requires you to be here to watch the children. You don’t mind. The money is good, the job is easy, and on days when Mr. York works from home, well, those are more than enough incentive to keep you coming back.

You’re more than a babysitter, more like a nanny, however not full time. You don’t live there, just spend a few hours there each weekday and you’ll watch the girls on occasional evenings or weekends when needed. You pick the girls up from school each day, bring them home and sometimes one or both of their parents are home but busy, or sometimes neither of them are there. You do things like the girls' laundry and prepare their dinner as well as their school lunches for the next day and some light cleaning tasks like the girls' rooms or cleaning the kitchen after you’ve made their meals. It was a good gig that worked well around your current class schedule and the money was much better than what most of your friends made to keep themselves afloat, working in restaurants or retail jobs.Not to mention the added benefit of your job.

Today, lucky for you, is a work from home day for Dave. Mr. York. And the message he sends you leaves no room for interpretation, you know exactly what he wants. You stare at the picture a moment longer, the dark navy blue of his dress slacks with the very obvious outline of his hard-on straining against the fabric. His hand sits on top of his thigh right next to the bulge under his pants and the gold band around his finger on prominent display does absolutely nothing to dissuade you as you push yourself up from the sofa.

“Girls I have some of your laundry to finish up, just keep watching your movie ok and I’ll be back in a little bit” you tell them sweetly and Molly casually acknowledges you with a wave of her hand, Alice not bothered enough to look up from the screen.

Honestly, thank god for Frozen.

You smooth down your skirt as you walk down the stairs to the finished basement and turn the corner to the only firmly closed door in the house. Mr. York's home office. It was off limits to everyone. Everyone except you, when you were invited of course, and the text he just sent you might as well be an embossed formal invitation printed on expensive cardstock.

You don’t bother knocking. You can hear his low voice through the door. It’s muffled and you can’t make out what he’s saying but you know he’s speaking and must be on a call.

A boring conference call.

Your favourite.

You can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips as you carefully push the door open, ensuring to be quiet and gently push it shut behind you. You don’t bother locking it, not anymore. You had once, the first time, and Dave ensured you that it wasn’t necessary. The girls knew this room was off limits because “Daddy was working” and Carol, if she did bother to come down here at all, would be sure to knock first to not interrupt Dave while he was working. You think he secretly likes the thrill of it, doing absolutely depraved things with you in his family’s home behind an unlocked door, knowing that his wife could walk in whenever she wanted. Of course it’s not something he would ever want his children to see, but it's been engrained well enough in their heads by now not to come down here that he knows he doesn’t need to worry about it.

You turn around from the door after closing it and see him casually leaning back in his office chair, elbow resting on the arm of it while he rests his face on his hand, a bored expression on his handsome features. His government-provided laptop sits open on his desk and you hear a mixture of voices flooding through the speakers though you don’t pay any attention to what they’re saying. You stand near the door still in the middle of the room and begin to unbutton your blouse, ignoring the little flutter in your tummy when you notice Dave sits up a little straighter in his chair. It’s a routine by now. You know what he wants without either of you needing to speak a word. Of course it’s not always the same when you step into this room, but when Dave is on a conference call, this is what you do.

All buttons undone you shrug out of your top and waste no time in undoing your bra next, letting the straps slide off your shoulders as you toss it carelessly to the floor. Next you pull down the zipper to your skirt and tug it down your legs along with your panties, not bothering to waste any time.

Dave likes efficiency. He also likes you completely naked, always, regardless of his level of dress or what the two of you might be doing. Even if he wants you under his desk sucking his cock where he can’t really even see your body, you will be naked while you do it and he’ll likely be fully clothed with just his belt open and zipper pulled down. Those were Dave’s rules. And you were nothing with him if not obedient.

You smile coyly at him as you make your way towards his desk and he pushes his chair back slightly further as he mumbles some confirmation over the speakerphone to his underlings. You know you don’t need to worry about the laptop or the Zoom call he’s currently in, Dave had a little black security sticker placed over every camera lens on all the larger electronics in the house, always taking his privacy seriously. Even the girls' tablets had the camera lenses blacked out.

He puts a single finger to his lips as you walk over to him, signaling to you that you need to be quiet, be his good girl, but of course you already know this. You nod your head slightly as you reach him, hands instinctively running over from the top of his chest up his broad shoulders as you swing one of your legs over him until you're straddled on his lap. Your hands slide back down his front, all the way down until you reach his waist and quietly unfasten his belt, popping the button open on his slacks and sliding his zipper down. Dave helps you by slightly lifting his hips, enough that you can shove down the material of his pants and boxers just enough to set his waiting cock free. You love that even when he’s working from home he is always dressed sharply in a business suit. Today his jacket is off, hung around the back of his chair and his shirt sleeves are rolled up to his forearms but aside from that, everything, including his tie, is perfectly in place.

Dave York, ever the professional, as his personal employee gets situated to sit on his cock during a conference call.

Once he’s on full glorious display for you you look up at him, waiting on his confirmation. That slight nod of his head he gives you that says ‘go on sweet girl, sit on my cock’. Deep brown eyes stare back at you and you wait, unmoving, until he lifts his hand and presses two fingers to your lips. You dutifully open your mouth, inviting them in and suck, wetting them with your tongue and saliva for a few long seconds until he’s satisfied and pulls them away. He immediately brings those same fingers down between your legs and slowly drags them through your folds, a smirk crossing his lips when he feels how wet you are already, how you don’t even need his fingers to be ready to take him. The truth is you were uncomfortably wet before he even sent you that text. The anticipation, the waiting, the wondering if today’s a day when he summons for you, it was enough to have you already worked up.

Despite you being ready he takes a few seconds to leisurely circle your clit with his thick fingers and you have to bite your lip to suppress the moan that wants to come out. You know you need to be quiet, it’s another one of his rules. If he wasn’t on an active call you are allowed to make some noise, he likes it even, but just not loud enough that your voice carries upstairs. His hand not currently working between your legs slides past you to the computer at his desk and you hear the tap of a button and you know he’s hit ‘mute’ on his call.

“Going to be a good girl for me, nice and quiet, right?” He asks and you nod your head.

“Yes” you whimper, sounding wrecked already despite that he’s barely begun.

“That’s good. I unfortunately need to be an active participant in this godforsaken budget meeting and will need to unmute from time to time and god help you if you start moaning like some bitch in heat and somebody hears you, I’ll turn on my camera and let them watch what a slut you are for my cock, do you understand?”

“Yes sir” you nod your head enthusiastically. “I’ll be good”

God the way he speaks to you when you’re together like this, maybe you should be concerned with how hot it gets you but you’re not. You know of course it's just talk, it's a persona he puts on when you’re intimate together and he gathered very quickly early on how much you enjoyed it so these are the roles you play when you are together. Truthfully Dave is respectful towards you, always has been, before and after the first time you’d hooked up. You chalk it up to him needing a different kind of release than he can get with his wife, the mother of his children. He needs a break from reality. From white-picket fences and playdates and fortunately for you, that’s where you came in. Call it ‘Daddy Issues’, call it whatever you want, but when Dave got a little mean with you or called you names or got rough with you, well, you’re honestly worried you’ll never again feel the sexual satisfaction that you get from this man. Nobody else could possibly measure up.

“I know you will baby” he smirks at you. “Now come on, you know what I want” he says and then taps a button on the keyboard again as he clears his throat and begins speaking to his colleagues again.

It should be scientifically studied how Dave droning on about quarterly budgets and fiscal year-ends can get your pussy absolutely dripping for him.

You do know what he wants and when his hand leaves the apex of your thighs you reach into the desk drawer beside you and pluck a foil packet out of the small wooden box he keeps nestled inside his desk (using protection is another one of Dave's rules so there's always a stash nearby in his office). Once you’ve torn it open and carefully rolled the condom down his thick shaft you lift yourself up just enough to hover over it before you sink down and are fully seated in his lap, buried to the hilt. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck and you lean your head down to rest on his shoulder but otherwise you don’t move. Dave doesn’t want to fuck you. At least, not right now. He wants you to be his good girl and keep his cock warm for him until his call is over and then he’ll decide what he wants to do with you. You hope the call isn’t a long one but sometimes in the past you haven’t been so lucky. Sometimes you sit here for five minutes, sometimes for thirty. Either way, you’ll be good while you do it and not move, otherwise Dave will become upset and punish you. And unfortunately punishment for you means he gets to come and you don’t, so you’re very careful now not to be punished. That lesson has been learned.

The meeting continues and after a few minutes Dave grows bored of his colleagues. You see it on his face and how his head falls back against the chair. Though you’ve barely been paying attention, even you know that they’ve just been talking in circles for the last five minutes.

“All right enough, let’s move on I don’t have all day” Dave suddenly barks at his computer and you hear several “yes sir”’s and “sorry sir”’s and flipping of papers as they switch topics to the next article on their agenda. Dave is still annoyed and bored and you know this because he snakes an arm between your bodies and his fingers are suddenly between your legs again where the two of you are joined. You lift your head from his shoulder again and pull back just enough so you can look him in the eyes as his fingers slowly begin to press at your clit. You pull your bottom lip through your teeth and your brow furrows slightly as he gently teases you and this… this is new. He doesn’t normally play with you when you’re meant to just be sitting still for him and honestly it terrifies you a little bit, knowing you can’t make a sound.

He’s still off mute as he occasionally responds to his colleagues and seemingly ignores the desperate plea your eyes are giving him as he rubs torturously slow circles around your little bundle of nerves. God he’s going to make you cum and you’re not allowed to utter a sound. A sly grin pulls at his lips and you know he’s enjoying this. Watching you squirm in his lap, desperate to please him as you focus every ounce of your concentration on not moaning out loud but Dave knows your body so well by now, like he’s fine tuning an instrument he’s had for years. You bury your face in his neck as your hands cling around the back of his head and the hand not between your legs comes up behind you, rubbing comforting circles across the span of your lower back. If it weren’t for the fingers at your clit and the cock buried inside you you’d feel like a small child being soothed and you might as well be because despite your best efforts, tears well at the corners of your eyes that you know Dave can feel drop hot against his skin. He’s making you feel so fucking good, but not good enough that it’ll get you to come and he knows that. He’s left you teetering on that edge as he plays with your clit with practiced precision and you need to come so badly you’re literally reduced to tears, the tight coil in your abdomen desperate to snap but can’t quite get there. He’s toying with you, and he loves it.

Your mouth mimes a desperate ‘please’ when you pull back again to look him in the eyes, hoping he’ll take pity on you. You must look a mess, tear-stained cheeks and he has to be able to feel the way your thighs are literally trembling. The smug grin hasn’t left his lips and for a moment you think he’s going to continue to torture you, but to your elated surprise he leans a bit forward to speak into his computer.

“All right everyone I think we’ve accomplished enough for one day, let’s pick this up on Monday, yeah? Have a good weekend everyone”

He doesn’t bother to wait for any of his colleagues to reply, just slams his laptop shut and shoves it aside with a sweep of his arm and you yelp out in surprise when he suddenly hoists you up and off of his cock, placing you down on your back on his desk. You whimper at the loss of him inside you but don’t have another second to complain before he shoves his chair back as he gets out of it and kneels to the ground in front of you.

“Oh fuck” you whimper, lifting your head up as far as you’re able to and reaching a hand out to place on his head.

“You were such a good girl for me, weren’t you baby?” he grins up at you from between your spread legs and you desperately nod your head in agreement. Honestly, you were proud of yourself.

“Good girls get rewarded, isn’t that right sweetheart?” he asks and you nod again.

Dave pauses for a moment and then his gaze lifts upwards to the ceiling. “Frozen?” he asks, knowing that his children are essentially mindless drones when their favourite movie is playing on tv and won’t come looking for you.

“Yes” you breathe out, your voice shaking. God, you need him so badly.

“Good” he grins again. “Want to hear you baby” is all he says before he dives in head first, literally, his mouth and tongue going straight to your core.

He begins greedily lapping at you, tongue pushing through your folds before he brings it up a little higher and swirls the muscle around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips cant off the desk without your permission and you hear him chuckle before he places a strong arm across your waist.

“Easy baby, let me take care of you”

And take care of you he does. He takes his free hand and inserts one thick finger inside your wet heat, beginning a steady pace of fucking you with his single digit before his mouth closes around you again, sucking your clit into his mouth and a loud moan followed by a string of curses leaves your lips, your hands clutching into the short stands of hair at his head. Your orgasm floods over you within seconds, already being so close from the earlier teasing and Dave moans into your cunt when he feels your walls pulsing around his finger.

“Fuck,” he groans into you, apparently pleased with you and himself. His finger continues working inside of you, at a slower pace thankfully and his arm around your waist leaves you and disappears behind the desk where you can’t see it but you know where that hand is going and you let out a little whimper, causing Dave to chuckle against you.

“What is it sweetheart? Tell me”

“Want your cock” you whine. “Please” you add, because Dave likes it when you have manners.

He presses a single kiss to your oversensitive centre before he finally pulls back and gets up from the floor, settling back into his chair and looking at you expectantly.

“Well go on then” he nods towards his aching length that now rests against his clothed belly, the condom long discarded. You assume he took it off not long after he pulled you from his lap so he could jerk himself off with his free hand while he ate you out.

You quickly scramble off of the desk and onto your knees, greedily taking him into your hand and mouth, not needing to be asked twice. Your hand wraps around the base while your mouth envelops the rest of him, taking him as far down your throat as your gag reflex allows.

“Eager today” Dave chuckles from above you before a small groan escapes his lips when your tongue comes up to press into his already leaking slit.

“Fuck, the mouth on you…” he tuts, hand coming around to gather your hair so he can hold it back from your face and get a better view of how you take him down your throat. You continue to suck and lick and swallow him down, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth to ensure you reach all of him and he groans, head falling back against the headrest of his chair. The hand not holding your hair back presses down on the top of your head, forcing you further down his cock. He likes to hear you choke and gag on him, likes to see the spit and saliva and drool run down your chin and hear those debauched noises that leave your throat when you take him so deeply. Tears pick at the corners of your eyelids as the head of his cock knocks against the back of your throat and he forcefully pulls your head back, tilting it so your gaze finds his and you see the satisfaction stretch across his lips as he watches the fat tears hit your cheeks.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl” he practically growls at you before yanking you off of him. You gasp for breath once he’s pulled you from his throbbing member, your hands coming up to rest on his knees to steady yourself as you catch your breath. You know you had him close to that edge so the fact that he’s pulled you off of him has you instantly flooded with arousal again, knowing that today he wants to finish inside of you rather than in your mouth.

“C’mere” he grunts, grabbing you by the arm and hauling you up to your feet as he also stands from his chair. The moment you're both up he pulls you forward and his lips crash against yours, shoving his tongue inside of your mouth to hungrily taste you. You can’t help the little whimper that escapes you when you taste yourself on his tongue and his lips curl into a smile at that.

He pulls back after a few seconds and begins to kiss and nip along your jaw and upwards until his lips and breath are hot against your ear.

“Turn around for me sweetheart, bend over”

You follow his request immediately, turning in his arms and bending over the desk until your top half is fully resting on the smooth, hard cherry wood surface and your feet are planted firmly on the ground. Dave’s dark brown leather shoe comes between both of your feet and he hastily kicks them further apart, spreading your legs wide for him and your breath catches in your throat for a second before you let out a little giggle at how eager he is to have you. His hands go to your hips and he angles you just right so when he steps forward his cock slides right between your folds and you let out a low moan at the friction it causes. He lets you feel him bare for a few more passes through your folds as his right hand leaves your hip to begin rustling around in the top desk drawer again. You have to bite back the words that are on your tongue, ‘don’t use one, just take me’ because you figure if he wanted to fuck you raw he would have by now. Dave is always careful and for the most part, always in control of himself but sometimes you wish he’d just let go and be reckless with you. It’s not really even that reckless, you argue with yourself. You’re on birth control and Dave knows this because he’s seen the little square patch you wear on your hip for three weeks of the month. He’d asked what it was as his fingers delicately traced the shape and you’d told him. A simple “hmm” was all you got from in response. And aside from that, Dave was the only person you were currently sexually active with and you’re pretty sure Dave knew that as well. There was so much Dave seemed to know about you. It would probably be almost unsettling if you really stopped to think about it so you just didn’t. You were happy to stay in your little bubble of blissed ignorance, so long as it meant Dave would continue to show you the attention you craved from him.

You turn your head back just in time to see him ripping the package with his teeth and then his hips pull back from you just enough so that he can roll the condom on before he’s back, pressing forward and teasing at your entrance again.

“Ready baby?” he asks.

“Mmm hmm” you nod weakly, desperate to feel him inside you finally. “Please”

With that final uttered syllable Dave thrusts forward, entering you in one swift motion and burying himself to the hilt with a single rough snap of his hips and all the breath gets knocked out of your lungs as your upper body is shoved slightly further up the desk. He stills for a moment once he’s fully seated inside you and lets you adjust to him, his left hand rubbing soothingly back and forth on your hip.

“That’s it, take my cock so good sweetheart, fuck” he groans, tossing his head back and now you’re not sure if he’s stopped moving for your sake or for his own. “God damn, love this tight fucking pussy” he practically growls before he rolls his hips back before snapping forward again. He sets a hard, rough pace from there, stealing the breath from your lungs with each snap of his hips and the guttural noises that leave your throat each time he hits that spot deep inside of you sound downright sinful as they bounce off the four walls of the small office.

Not quite as sinful, however, as the smack that reverberates in the room when Dave’s hand lands a sharp blow to your right ass cheek as he continues to pound into you from behind.

“Ah!” you cry out, sounding positively wrecked, because you are. “Fuck, oh my god, ohmygod”. You’re reduced to a whimpering, whining mess within minutes as Dave bucks into you with reckless abandon. His fingers dig so deeply into your hips you know for fact they’ll leave bruises. You manage to turn your head slightly back to look at him, and what a glorious sight he is. Neck veins prominently on display as he tilts his head slightly back but still manages to keep his hard gaze on you. His teeth are bared and there’s beads of sweat at his forehead from his exertion and it’s enough to send you catapulting over that edge. You come long and hard with a wrecked sob leaving your throat as your walls pulse and contract around him.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck” you cry out, hands stretched above your head to hold onto the edge of the desk for dear life as your orgasm crashes over you.

“Shit baby… shit” Dave curses and you know your orgasm nearly brought his own on as well. Another low growl escape his lips before he’s hauling you up by your arms. “C’mere”

Your limbs might as well be made of Jello after how hard you just came so fortunately for Dave you’re very pliant in his arms as he all but manhandles you around. He pulls out of you and turns you around before he hauls you up and off the desk. He backs up just enough to sit back down in his chair and pulls you down on top of him, situating you just right so you’re sat right back on his cock the same way you were earlier and you cry out again once he has you speared on his dick.

“Ride me baby, bounce up and down on this dick, come on” he urges you on, sounding wrecked himself and it’s enough to give you the gust of energy you need to comply. Your hands go to his shoulders to hold on and his go to your hips to help you raise them just slightly before he slams you back down into his lap and then repeats the motion, over and over.

“That’s it, oh fuck” he seethes through gritted teeth. “Such a good girl for me, oh ride that cock baby come on” he encourages and your eyes roll back in your head at how deep he hits inside you. You think you actually feel a third orgasm coming on and Dave must sense it in you too because the next thing you know his thumb is at your clit, rubbing frantic circles as he begs and pleads with you to give him ‘just one more’. And you do just that. With a cry of his name leaving your lips you come a third time, hands clutching desperately at his shoulders as he fucks you through it and then his arms wrap tight around your lower back and he presses you firmer into his lap as he pushes a few final deep thrusts into you until he finally stills, a shuddering moan released from the back of his throat as he spills inside the condom.

You stay just like that for long moments afterwards. Dave’s arms wrapped tightly around you and yours around his neck, your face buried in his shoulder and his nuzzling into the side of your face. Dave isn’t exactly a cuddler. At least not with you or in your experience with him yet. Typically when your done he slides out of you and likes to get the condom off and get himself cleaned up immediately, dismissing you to get back to whatever you were doing but today he seems content to just hold you and you’ll greedily take every second of it until he regretfully pulls away from you like you know he has to.

You're so blissed out in your post-orgasmic state that you almost don’t even hear it when he murmurs the words against your ear.

“Come away with me”

Confusion laces your tone as you push back from him just enough to search his eyes for answers “What?”

“I want you to come away with me” he repeats, clearer this time but you still don’t understand exactly what he means. He sighs and raises a hand to gently push your hair back behind your ear before his hand lands softly on your cheek. “For a weekend. Let’s get away. I’ll say I have a work trip or something and we can just… be together. No interruptions, no… fucking Olaf the snowman singing in the background while I’m trying to fuck your brains out” he adds teasingly and you can’t help the full belly laugh that escapes you.

“Do you mean it?” You ask after a moment. You want to believe it. A whole weekend with Dave sounds like fucking heaven, but you don’t want to get your hopes up if he’s just talking madness because he just blew his load and isn’t thinking straight.

Dave shrugs. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while” he remarks casually, thumb softly stroking back and forth at your cheek. “What do you say?”

“I say yes, of course!” You practically squeal, surging forward and stealing a kiss from his waiting lips. You kiss for long moments. It’s not a frenzied kiss like you usually share but it’s still heated and before long you’re forced to pull away when Dave’s cock twitches from where it’s still buried inside of you. You unfortunately both know you don’t have time for another round and so you regretfully pull apart, Dave gently lifting your hips to pull you off of him. He takes the condom off, tying it off at the end and tossing it into the small trash can under his desk before he carefully stuffs himself back into his underwear and rights his clothes. You gather your own clothes and quickly dress until you’re presentable again and then wander back over to where Dave has sat back down in his chair, undoubtedly going back to work for a couple more hours.

“Thank you” you whisper before you lean down and plant a kiss to his waiting lips.

“I’ll text you. About our… plans” he says and you smile warmly at him.

“Looking forward to it” you remark as you slip out of his office and back upstairs to check on the girls.

True to his word Dave texts you a week or so later, giving you very vague details on your trip. It’s just dates he’s told you to blackout, a friday through sunday at the end of the month and that he’ll pick you up at your place Friday at 3pm. No other details, not where you’re going, what you need to bring or pack or what type of clothing you’ll need. You assume you won’t be going far, a local hotel is most likely, but you’d at least like to know if you’ll be going anywhere nice for dinner, what kind of wardrobe you need to bring.

“What should I bring?” You settle on asking him when you reply to his text and a stupid grin forms at your lips from his simple reply.

“Just a toothbrush baby, won’t be needing anything else for what I’ve got planned for us 😈”

taglist: @janaispunk @nerdieforpedro @anotherpedrolover @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @axshadows @suzdin @yorksgirl @lincolndjarin @pedroshotwifey

thanks to @saradika-graphics for the page dividers!

I might turn this into a little series? But it would literally just be PWP lol. Not much storyline. Just for when I need to get the Dave York brain rot out lol. So if you wanna see more of these two (or see their little getaway) just lmk!

[dangerpronebuddie]

Ooh!! I love your wip, please do 😭📋📋📋🥵🥵🥵💙💙😎😎😎 thanks 🥰🥰

Hi darling thank you!!! 🥰🥰 So sorry I'm answering this like three weeks late, the words have not been wording. Scrolled through my asks last night and saw this one and wrote a lot more than I was expecting to. Thank you!

Verbal Abuse fic:

“Christopher said you're seeing a therapist again,” Helena says, her mouth a thin line. Eddie never bothered telling her about therapy. She doesn't believe it helps. “Yeah,” Eddie nods. “Have been for months.” “Pity you didn't start before you traumatized your son into running away,” she says, casual as anything.

Clipboard Buck fic (oh look, Maggie's projecting):

Eddie works his jaw in thought. He wracks his brain, trying to think of his first serious crush. That friend from highschool comes to mind, but he immediately skips over him to Shannon. Before her, there really wasn't anyone. He remembers his friends fawning over Leticia Montes in third grade. He didn't understand the draw. They didn't know her very well; she was in fourth grade. Eddie didn't know a thing about her. He supposes her dark curls and blue eyes were pretty, but there wasn't anything beyond that. There was a boy in sixth grade his friend Mary was practically in love with that, objectively speaking, was attractive. Eddie still didn't get it. Whenever his friends asked him who he liked, he'd think up the most well known heartthrob as his answer. Unfortunately, he had more than a few friends who would proceed to try and set them up. The refusals became degrading after a while. Eventually, he just stopped answering them. He lost those friends, but he didn't feel all that bad about it.

Sub Eddie fic (it's less than 3 lines but it's all my brain would allow me):

“Relax,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh. He doesn't say it out loud, but Eddie hears it all the same. The promise they've kept to each other for years: I'll take care of you, and I trust you to take care of me.

Tanis' fic:

“Fuck, you're beautiful,” Buck says in an awed whisper. For a moment, Eddie thinks he should shy away from the attention. But he doesn't want to. This is Buck. Buck hovers over him, bracketing his head with his forearms. Eddie tips his chin up for a kiss and Buck grins as he leans down. Heat engulfs whatever softness remained from moments before. Buck nips at his lips and licks deep into his mouth, rocking down hard against him as Eddie pulls him closer, closer, closer.

Big Damn Hero (I couldn't not include this moment):

“Yeah, or you know you could… you could have mine,” Buck stammers like an idiot. Eddie does that adorable snort and shakes his hand. “Deal.” Oh, Buck was in trouble. So. Much. Trouble.

Also using this as my WIP Wednesday!

Tagged by @tizniz and @daffi-990 who both shared AMAZING stuff y'all should show some love!! 💚🩵 (p.s. I'm sorry if I haven't interacted with some tags I've gotten recently. Life's been... life, and some days even tumblr is overwhelming. Love y'all and thank you for continuing to tag me 🩷)

Tagging:

@lover-of-mine @loveyouanyway @kitteneddiediaz

@ronordmann @steadfastsaturnsrings @inell @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @diazsdimples

@thekristen999 @monsterrae1 @actuallyitsellie @diazheartsbuckley @wildlife4life @theotherbuckley

@rainbow-nerdss @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @lunarspark-cos @idealuk @shipperqueen6 @slowlyfoggydestiny

@misshiss727 @lin27 @jshadow01 @orangeboxfox92

@thegeekcompanion @emilybahu @lemotmo @awolfnamed-nyx

@kaseysgirl86-blog @darkrose6578 @totallynotagoraphobic @dandelioncasey @bibuckbuckgoose @whatsgoodinthehood22

@lady-elaine @buckley-diaz-rules @buddiedaydreamer911 @monroemary @pirate-hunter

@nonspeakingkiku @eddiedisasterdiaz @drunkandsupportiveeddie @traumabuddies @epicbuddieficrecs @elvensorceress @disasterbuck

@tofanasmuse @gnoeltop @keynb @cassi-brooks @-syrup-sue @punkrock00 @shannonhutchins @lasagnatheory

[pedroshotwifey]

To The Flame chapter twelve

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Chapter w/c: 2.6k

Chapter warnings: mentions of physical abuse, manipulation, mental abuse, steve and connie!!, fluff but like backhanded fluff?, Javi being a dick, alcohol consumption, mild description of injury

Chapter Summary: Javi takes you out on your date and you meet some potential friends

A/N: Hey, y'all! Super excited about this one! These character introductions mean a lot to this story. Hope you like it! (also sorry about not posting last week, pls forgive me ❤)

*****

“Shit,” you mutter. 

You’re staring at yourself in the mirror, fixated on the ugly welt marring your right cheekbone. Your right eye is a bit swollen as well, but not too badly. You’re mostly worried about how the hell you’re going to hide the discoloring. Even with your makeup, it’s going to be a feat. 

It makes your stomach twist up to remember last night’s events. You still don’t understand why you had chosen to freak out like that. It was completely immature and irrational. He was just worried about you and you chose to berate him for it. 

Thankfully, Javi seems to have completely forgiven you for your outburst. He woke up as normal this morning, planted a kiss on your forehead, and made your breakfast. You smile to think about it. Despite everything that happened yesterday, everything today is back as it should be, just how you like it. 

You sigh and turn the sink on. You’ll wash your face and get dressed, then worry about this monstrosity last. You’re excited for your date. Javi told you that he’ll be taking you to a small restaurant a few blocks from the apartment. He’s out running an errand right now, or so he said. He wasn’t very specific, but he did promise to be back in time for your dinner date. 

You lean down and splash your face with the cool water, suppressing a wince as it hits your bruised flesh. You really didn’t realize the hit had landed that hard. You scrub it anyway, being careful to not press too hard. You don’t think Javi got a very good look at it this morning, which is probably a good thing. He’d likely be devastated to know he caused such an injury. 

You finish washing your face and reach for your dress hanging on the back of the door. It’s one of Javi’s favorites, and you’re excited to finally have an excuse to wear it again. You slip it over your head and turn around to zip the back with the help of the mirror. You pull at the edge and smooth it out so it falls effortlessly just above your knees. 

It’s a beautiful color in contrast with your skintone, hell, it’s a beautiful dress in general. You smile at your appearance in the mirror. It’s not often you feel confident, but this dress never fails to bring it out of you. Maybe that’s why Javi likes it so much, too. 

You hear the front door open as you fix one of the sleeves of the dress, a smile spreading across your face at the sound. Javi calls your name in greeting and your stomach flutters. 

“I’m in here,” you call back. His footsteps grow closer.

“You ready, sweetheart?” 

You peek your head out from the bathroom, careful to hide your right side behind the door frame. Javi’s standing in the middle of the bedroom. He looks gorgeous—as usual. He’s wearing a blue button up with his jeans and his regular boots.

“Yup, I’ll be just a second.” 

“Alright, baby, take your time. There’s no rush.” He sends you a wink. 

You flash him a quick smile before ducking back in and cracking the door behind you. You pick up your compact and lean in close to the mirror. The first layer doesn’t do much at all. The second makes a small difference, and by the third, all that’s left is to touch up certain spots. Even then though, you know there’s nothing you can do about the swelling of your eye and one of the deeper bruises. You take a step back. It doesn’t look so bad when you’re not too close. 

You sigh and finish up the rest of it, only putting everything away once you’re satisfied that you look pretty much normal. Like it’s any other date night. You turn the light off and step out of the bathroom. 

“Javi?” 

“In the kitchen, sweetheart.” 

You follow his voice, finding him leaning against the kitchen counter and craning his neck slightly to look out the window.

You grin as you step into view, giving him a small twirl and watching his smile widen when his gaze lands on you. You do your best to hide your right side, but try to be casual enough that he won’t think that’s what you’re trying to do. 

“You look gorgeous, baby,” he says, walking toward you with open arms. 

You let him embrace you in a hug, wrapping your own arms around his middle as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Thank you, Javi,” you mumble into his chest. 

He lets you go after a moment and picks something up from the counter. 

“Here, hermosa, got something for you” he offers you the bouquet of flowers. You gasp, sure that it’s the most beautiful bunch you’ve ever seen. That must have been why he went out. You’ll really never get over how thoughtful he is. It must have taken him a while to pick these out. 

You beam at him as you take them in your hand. “Thank you,” you say again. He nods at you, warmth in his gaze as he watches you softly sniff the flowers. You look up when he clears his throat. 

“Wanted to say I’m sorry,” he tells you, eyes flickering to and from yours. You frown a bit. 

“It’s okay, Javi, I was the one acting up,” you assure him. You don’t want him to feel bad over something that wasn’t his fault. Just thinking about it puts a bad taste in your mouth. He’s much too sweet of a man to ever think that he’s done something wrong. You’re the childish one who threw a temper tantrum for no reason. It’s not fair for him to blame himself for what happened. 

He nods solemnly, giving you a soft smile. 

“I think we were both in the wrong there, sweetheart. I just don’t want it to happen again.” 

Now it’s your turn to nod. You’re beaming inside at the fact that everything seems to be back to normal, but there’s also a sudden threat of tears pricking at your eyes and you’re not sure why. You look away, refusing to let them fall as you busy yourself putting them into a vase. 

“Let me just put these in some water, and I’ll be ready,” you say as you turn on the sink. 

****

You’re walking out the door minutes later, hand in hand with Javi as you try to contain the smile on your face. You’re way too excited about getting out. A part of you feels a bit guilty about getting your way after last night, but you suppose that Javi would have told you no if he thought it was really a bad idea tonight. 

You stay silent and let him lead you downstairs, and you actually have to bite down on your lip to keep from full-on grinning when the evening air hits your face. It’s not too busy of a night, not many people out on the street at all. Still, Javi holds you close to his side as you make your way to the restaurant he was telling you about. 

It’s not far, maybe a four or five minute walk from the complex. It’s small and cozy, exactly what you would hope for. He keeps his hand on the small of your back as you go to sit at an empty table, pulling your chair out for you and making sure you’re comfortable before sitting down in the seat across from you. 

You smile at him as a waitress comes by and drops off a couple of menus. She takes your drink orders—a soda for you and a beer for Javi. You busy yourself with looking over the food options, failing to notice the way Javi’s started to stare at you. 

His hand comes quickly across the table, making you flinch from surprise when he grabs your chin and tilts your head enough to see your right cheek. 

“What’s this?” he demands. 

You wince, really wishing you could have avoided this. You should have kept layering your makeup. 

“”S from last night,” you mumble, ashamed even though you know you shouldn’t be. You just don’t want him to see what physical damage he may have done. He’ll tear himself up over it. 

But he instead snaps, “And you didn’t fucking cover it?” 

You’re taken aback, your head snapping away from his grasp. Shame fills you. Why can’t you just do something right for once? Tears again fill your eyes, only adding to your shame. 

“I-I’m sorry, Javi,” you say quietly, staring at your hands in your lap. “I was just really excited to go out and—” 

He sighs and leans back in his chair, cutting you off from your pointless excuse. “Just make sure nobody sees it,” he tells you. “Do you have any idea what that could do to me in my field of work?” 

You nod, sniffing as your ears burn with embarrassment. Here he is taking you out and you ruin it by making another stupid decision. At least you’re not getting angry again. You have enough sense to keep that at bay. 

You catch the waitress walking back with your drinks out of the corner of your eye and do your best to quickly collect yourself, giving her a warm, tear free smile when she sets your soda down in front of you. She smiles back and takes Javi’s order, which you order as well since you forgot to choose a dish for yourself. 

You flash Javi a shy smile when she walks away, and, much to your relief, he gives you a small one in response. He’s still obviously not very thrilled with you, but at least he’s not straight mad. 

“How have things been going at the house, baby?” 

You know he means with renovations. 

“They’re pretty good. Almost finished with all the painting and stuff. I might just need you to help me with some of the tile and cabinets.” 

He nods. “Alright, I’ll see if I can get it done tomorrow.” 

You nod back, trying not to be too tense. The conversation almost feels…awkward. It’s confusing. Luckily, the waitress comes quickly with your food, placing it in front of you and leaving you to it. 

Conversation gets a bit better as the two of you eat. More casual and free-flowing.It’s not quite how it’s been the last few months, though. More like when the two of you had gone out together the first few times and had been a little shy. You brush it off though, sure that it won’t last too long. Even the two of you haven’t ever really been in a ‘post-fight’ situation yet, you believe that your chemistry is good enough for it to work itself out soon. 

And it pretty much does by the time you’re finishing up your dinner. Javi’s smiling as you gush to him about a book you’re currently reading. It’s a very cute romance, one of the ones he’s brought you recently. He’s listening intently, happy to see your eyes light up with excitement. 

The waitress comes back with the bill just as you’re telling him about the ending, and he hands his card over, along with a cash tip, as he continues to listen. It’s so nice to have someone who enjoys hearing about your interests. Before Javi, you can’t really remember having a person who would genuinely want to hear about your books. 

You finish just as the waitress comes back, revealing the plot twist dramatically. His eyes widen with your reveal, both to indulge you but also probably a bit out of surprise because—in your opinion—it was a pretty insane plot twist. 

But then his gaze darkens, pointed over your shoulder, and you frown. 

“Javi?” 

Your mouth is open to say his name, but it wasn’t you who said it. You snap your head around to see a couple walking toward you, the man smiling broadly. There’s a woman holding his hand, looking a little less enthusiastic than the man about seeing your husband. 

You see Javi tense out of the corner of your eye as they reach your table. The man drops the woman's hand to round the table and clap Javi’s shoulder. 

“What are you doing, you son of a bitch?” the man asks in a joking tone. “Thought you said you didn’t date.” 

Javi’s jaw clenches as your brows furrow. 

What?

“Uhm, yeah,” you supply, ignoring the way your stomach churns at the fact that he hadn’t mentioned you at all. “That may have something to do with the fact that he’s married.” You hold your left hand up, flashing your ring. The man’s light brows go up in surprise, a slight smirk overtaking his features. But then the smile drops and he shoots his gaze down to your husband. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” he says slowly. “Didn’t think you were the type, Peña.” His tone is almost flat now. You don’t understand why it changed so quickly. Javi looks back up at him, a flicker of dark emotion that you can’t quite place showing in his eyes. 

“Sweetheart,” Javi addresses you, keeping his eyes on the stranger. “This is Steve, my partner at work.” 

He doesn’t talk about work much, but from what he’s told you about his partner, your understanding is that they get along pretty well. So you don’t quite understand the surge of hostility between the two of them right now. 

You smile nonetheless, standing and reaching your hand out to him. You state your name. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

He nods as he shakes your hand, giving you a tight smile in return. His expression is almost hard to read. He nods to the woman next to you. “That’s my wife, Connie.” 

You turn to shake her hand as well, and you can tell you’ll immediately like her. She gives you a bright smile as well, telling you it’s nice to meet you. She seems very nice, but also like she wouldn’t be afraid to speak up for herself. You find yourself hoping that you’ll be able to see her again. Maybe be friends. 

“We were just leaving,” Javi says from where he watches the two of you. Steve has taken a step back now, and is also watching you both with his arms crossed, though he doesn’t look mad, exactly. More like he’s contemplating something. 

You frown though, having thought that you still had a little while before you had to go back. 

“But—” 

He flashes you a warning look, and you quiet down. Maybe you misunderstood him and he doesn’t like his partner. Either way, if he wants to go back, it’s probably for a good reason and you shouldn’t fight it. You nod at him instead, smoothing out your dress. 

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” you say to Steve and Connie as Javi comes to your side and takes your arm in his.

“You, too,” Connie says, and Steve nods, another small smile offered as Javi starts to lead you out. You don’t turn to watch them as you leave, instead keeping your eyes on Javi, who has his on the exit. 

“What was that about?” you ask. 

He glances at you with a softer gaze than you’ve seen all night. Again, you can’t place the look. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he assures you and kisses the side of your head. So you don’t. 

When the two of you get home, Javi cracks open another beer and holds you on the couch until you both fall asleep watching TV.

*****

You for reading! Taglist is always open!

Series taglist:  @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @melaninmommy @survivingandenduring @kewwrites @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff  @callachloe @missladym1981 @sofiparallel @koshkaj-blog @sheepdogchick3 @movievillainess721 @jessie8605 @casa-boiardi @justlulu @iamsherlocked-1998 @hjzghi-b @solarecI1spe

[heartilywrites]

❝ In every universe ; H. Callahan

next >

cw: mention of death, angst, spider-verse references, swear words, just spider!hazel being a dork too!

word count: 2.5k

a/n: heiya!! this is my first post ever, I just had an idea of spider!hazel and wanted to share it with y'all!!! hope u like it ♡ I'm sorry if there's any mistake, english is not my first language!

“𝓞kay! let's do this one more time. My name is Hazel Callahan, I was bitten by a radioactive spider and for a year and a half I've been the one and only Spider–Woman. I'm sure you know the rest. ”

⠀Hazel was running.

Hazel was running late to the fight club, third time this week.

Can you blame her. . .? Maybe. Let's see, she finished her last class on time, hell, she was 5 minutes early out of school; so she thought, —why not going out to kill time while the fight club meeting started?— but oh, Hazel. . . she should stayed inside.

Three minutes after stepping foot outside a scream was heard followed by a explotion and a very familiar laugh, the brunette made a tiny tantrum before running to a nearby alley and change to her suit.

So now it made sense why she was with her mask between her teeth while she's shoving her suit in that old brown backpack her mother gifted her when she was around fourteen.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “What the fuck, Hazel?” PJ spoke when the girl came through the doors, everyone's eyes on her now. “We promised to be punctual, who do you think you are to be this late? Spider–Woman?”

Hazel laughed a bit too loud due to her nervousness, the action made the other brunette frown a bit before letting her in. She started speaking again.

To her fortune, no one asked why she was all bruised up and had some fresh cuts in her face, for what they knew, Hazel was still going to taekwondo. Or at least, that's what she told everyone, also, she was a purple belt! According to her, again, but she has been a purple belt since dropping taekwondo.

Callahan made her way to the group, noticing one more new face and ... wait, was tha–?

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Punishment for coming late, newbie and Hazel. Let's go!” PJ talked again, making the latter jumped on her place looking back at the girl who just smiled with malice.

Once both girls were set up one infront of the other one Hazel called your name with confusion and you just looked like you were about to cry. “You know each other?” asked Josie just as confused.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Yeah, we. . . we were best friends since kids, but she had to move out when we were fifteen. When did you–” Hazel was cut off by your fist hitting her nose.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Oh! Newbie can fight!” PJ laughed at the scene just witnessed. “Defend yourself, Hazel!”

The brunette looked shocked at what just happened, but was fast to attack back.

Now, Hazel was known to be a great fighter; the spider bite made her be more cautious about other people's way to attack, but she just couldn't figure you out. Her. . . uhh, she calls it intuition, so; her intuition has been all over the place making her being attentive of everything since she saw you. It's like she has the answer on the tip of her tongue, but couldn't say it.

On the whole gym the sound of Callahan's body hitting the ground made an echo. Your knee was on her torso and both hands holding hers, she looked as shocked as she was at the beginning.

Everyone clapped; shocked, confused, surprised and really excited (PJ, obviously).

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Alright, that's enough of seeing Haze getting her ass kicked.” Josie stood up laughing a bit nervous. “We should continue with the next couple.”

You didn't make a sound, just took Hazel's hand to help her stand up and make your way back to your sit and watched the next pair, the latter just sat on her own side with that a frown.

When the practice ended, everyone sprinted out of the gym leaving you and Hazel alone for the first time. Once you notice that, panic began to rise in your system.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Hey. . .” that sweet voice you didn't thought you'll hear again rang in your ears. “It's nice to see you. . . I missed you.”

Your breath stopped in your lungs and both hands moving to collect things stop as well. “It's nice to see you too. . .” your own voice came out with a little shake. “I– you look great. . . And happy.”

A really weak smile started to make its way into your face when you turned around and for the first time in the lapse of two hours you were there your eyes met hers with calm. She was smiling big at you and didn't give you time to think before her arms were around your body with a tiny laugh.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Oh, god! I have so much to tell you!” she exclaimed with the excitement a child would have, after some time, the hug broke. “When did you arrive? Why didn't you call me? We need to go back to that one café! You know, that girl keeps asking fo—” Hazel's words were cut off when both of your arms were around her hugging her body, almost crushing her ribs. “Shit, you got stronger ... Are you okay?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Yeah, no, I'm sorry.” a sniff sounded from your side “I just needed one from you.” now your head nodded.

Hazel was about to talk when both of you felt your "tingles" —oh, some Hazel is going to be pissed when she finds out that other people call it that.— started to alert.

Your best friend not knowing how to make an excuse was so close to run away without a word before you took her hand.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Don't ask, I know you're spider–woman, we need to leave now.” you said almost pleading, taking advantage at the fact that it was only the both of you, you undressed quickly staying in your spider suit as well. Hazel looked like she was about to pass out.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “YOU–” she cut off herself after realizing she was yelling. “You're spider–woman too!?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I don’t have time to explain right now, Haze! Please, just follow me, I– we need your help.” An answer came from your way while looking for your mask and put it on.

As if she could feel your exasperation, Hazel was quick to run under the benchs to get herself ready, while you watched if anyone came in. Once she was full-on suit, without talking you guided the way.

There was a job you needed to do before leaving. It was supposed to be an in–and–out job, no distraction, no waste of time, just the reason why you were sent to that dimension and then: continue to another assignment.

But your destination point was so near to the same school you went on your dimension and thought maybe of visiting, knowing your heart was aching for something else.

As soon as the both of you arrived to the scene you turned to Hazel. “Alright, listen, this is the plan.” your voice sounded a little muffled because of the mask, but was clear enough for her to hear.

There was a villain who didn't belong to that earth and you were assigned to take him back to the quarters so they could send him back to his dimension.

Once your best friend understood the plan it was time to execute it.

You were not going to lie, Hazel and you made a pretty good team together. Swinging in harmony, having the best unspoken communication about who made which punches first or who was doing the distraction and who was the attacker.

She improvised a bit, making it easier for the both of you to capture and kick the bad guy through a portal you open with your tools.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “That was awesome!? Where did you learn to fight like that!?” An excited Hazel talked while taking her mask off, a big smile in her face and messy bangs were covering her eyes, you smiled a bit.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “It came with the bite, didn't it?” You answer while brushing a bit your hair, a couple of steps were taken and now you brushed Hazel's bangs so you could see her eyes. “Uhm, the organization taught me.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “What organization? The one you sent that stupid thing to?” She asked making air signals with her hands about the portal which was closed by then, now you laughed shortly and nodded.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Here, let's sit and I'll talk to you about it.” you said while climbing to the nearest roof and sitting yourself with your legs crossed, Hazel was quick to swing herself up and sit by your side.

You talked about everything; about how you were from another dimension, how you worked with spider–people from everywhere —fact that made Hazel very happy, feeling that she wasn't the only one anymore.—, your assignment, why you were the one to get that assignment and about the next one.

Hazel listened with glowing eyes like a kid when they see something they want, between her hands she took one of yours and was playing with it, both of them were in your suits. Your suit and Hazel's were almost the same, that made your heart feel warm somehow; while yours was red and black with some golden straps on your upper arms, Hazel's was red and blue with the same upper arms detail, but it was black.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “So. . . Can I join?” she asked after some minutes of comfortable silence where you both were looking to the hands holding.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “That's not up to me, sunny.” you called her nickname making Hazel remember your childhood together. “I was not supposed to look for you, actually, I was order to do it alone.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Then. . . why did you?” instead of sounding mad or annoyed, she sounded curious.

You took a couple of minutes before answering.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I needed to see you. . . At least in another dimension.” your sight turned blurry because of the tears. “I lost you in mine.”

The other girl's face was full surprise, she didn't speak nor asked for clarification, instead she move as close as the anatomy would allow the both of you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “In my dimension I didn't move away, I convinced my parents to stay here.” you began to say, wiping away tears streaming down your face. “We were happy, then I got bit by the spider instead of you and became spider–woman.” a bitter laugh came out from your throat.

~ “I was scared to death about the new powers, but you assured me that it was a good thing, that you were going to be by my side all the time.” a deep breath was heard and now Hazel hugged you from your shoulders, you almost melted. “We started to date. . .”

It was there where Hazel felt her heart skipped a beat when having a reminder of those feelings that didn't vanished with your moving, a blush starting to burn in her cheeks and ears.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “We had plans, a lot of plans for the future, together.” That part sounded more like you were talking by yourself instead of saying it to her. “And I got this piece of shit terrorizing the city at the time and I said, I should go, take him down and come back home for our anniversary date.”

The girl with short hair knew where that was going by the way your voice filled with hate and you started to shake.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You said you wanted to help, he was fucking some machines that needed to be turned off before taking the whole city out and I thought that maybe if I took you there you will be safe, you will turn the machines off and I'll meet you outside the building so we could go to the dinner.” An almost incontrollable tremble in your voice made an appearance.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Darling. . .” Hazel's voice called out, you shook your head.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I could have saved you if I. . . if he didn't saw you trying to turn off the machines.” You ignore the call, taking another deep breath. “After you died I killed him.” You shrugged, Hazel made a pout. “I'm sorry, I just–”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Don't apologize, moony.” she was quick to cut you off. When she said your nickname, a face full of tears was what she saw in you. “It's not your fault, please, know that.”

She gave you a tiny squeeze while you looked for shelter between her arms with your face in her neck.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You know, I did liked you when you were still here. . . Well not you you, your other you. . . My you?” Hazel frowned confused at her own comment, you laughed. “I always thought what could happened if you never left. . . I think I have the answer now.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Oh, god, don't talk about it. I always thought what could happened if I did move away.” you stood up again now to look to the girl, who was blushing a bit still. “Thank you, Hazel. . .”

And another comfortable silence was upon you two. One of Hazel's hand made its way to you cheek, wiping rest of tears. There it was, that war between eyes that you missed from Hazel, but definitely what she did next took you by surprise.

Her lips met yours in a kiss, the sweetest kiss you felt since your girlfriend left your side. The feeling of letting yourself go and fuse with the girl against you was strong, that feeling of holding her and never letting go again, the impulse of forgetting that you needed to go back to report so you could continue with the work.

Both mouths moving in synchronization, as if they were made for each other since the beginning. Your arms hugging her neck to get her as close as possible.

And then your communicator interrupted the interaction, with a groan you separated yourself from her and look at the bracelet on you wrist.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Fuck!” you exclaimed while realizing they were looking for you. As if someone took you by the ear, you stood up in your feet and look at Hazel with sorrow. “I have to leave. . .”

As those words left your mouth, she stood up by your side and took your hands. “Am I. . . Are you going to come back?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I don’t know, Haze. . .” you said in a sigh, while hearing the characteristics sound of portals from the organization you stole a kiss from her. A really needy one, a goodbye one. “Hope you're happy, baby, you deserve it.” a whisper came out of you as soon as you started to back away from her without looking away from her eyes. “I love you, Hazel, in every universe.”

Behind you a portal open, you knew it was your mentor looking for you. You gave her a last sight before waving and jump into said portal and as soon as she lost you from sight, the portal closed.

Hazel stood there completely shocked at everything that happen, a feeling of emptiness filled her soul. Looking down her hands she spotted a bracelet, the one you were wearing, her eyes opened with surprise.

Should. . . Should she try?

next part !!

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Heaven Help the Fool

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 5

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation.

warnings: swearing, angsty matthew, hints of matt's jealousy, cuddling? idk this one is relatively tame (especially compared to Ch 4)

a/n: This chapter is pure sugary fluff. I ended up cutting this chapter in half because it was approaching 10k. This is the 1st half :) I hope you enjoy!! Thank you to @madschiavelique for helping me rewrite this multiple times!

Side note: I will probably wait a month or so before updating this again. I'm trying to get 5-7 chapters written so that I can post biweekly for the rest of the year to keep y'all fed!

w/c: 4.2k

Despite the brief hiccup in your friendship–courtesy of one douchebag boyfriend–you, Matt, and Foggy had been getting along swimmingly recently; so well, in fact, that Foggy would only refer to you as “The Three Musketeers”, complete with embarrassingly clumsy fake sword swishing, of course. The thought of the two of you air-fencing as you giggled to each other never failed to make him smile. 

By some miracle, the conversation he’d initiated with you about your growing distance had actually gone well and sparked a positive change. You’d apologized profusely, asking a number of questions, about how Matt was feeling and why, to guarantee your understanding. And, thankfully, he’d been able to answer them without exposing his feelings for you. In the end, you’d promised to return to your original schedule of study sessions, as well as give Matt and Foggy notice if you would need to cancel. Nothing outrageous, just being more mindful about communication and the time you were spending with your friends. 

Unfortunately for Matt, and Foggy who was slowly stepping aboard the “Everett Sucks” train alongside his roommate, you’d also suggested that the two of them hang out with you and Everett in order to get to know him better. The idea was harmless, even adorable if you asked the love-sick part of Matt’s brain, but the outcome was hellish. 

About a week ago, Matt and Foggy had accompanied you and Everett to a haunted house–listening to the macho third year “protect” you from strobe lights and masked actors despite you not being all that scared. Though he had brought a date himself, Matt had barely even smiled at the poor girl, preoccupied with Everett’s fingers brushing over a patch of exposed skin on your waist at every opportunity. Clearly, he hadn’t been inconspicuous about his attention being elsewhere, given that the night had ended with him getting a face full of hot chocolate from his snubbed date. The sticky droplets soaking into his clothes were nothing compared to the irritation he felt when Everett slapped him on the back—shaking his head as he imparted his wisdom to the first year. “Sorry man. Girls will be girls.” 

Then, of course, there’d been last night. The three of you had attended a halloween party at Everett’s place, and the guy had refused to walk you home even though it was cold, dark, and dangerous considering how tipsy you'd been. If Matt and Foggy hadn't been there, who knows what harm could have befallen you? Even before that, Matt had been clenching his fists all night, hearing Everett blabber over you and swat your hands away in front of his peers, claiming he wasn’t in the mood to hold you. If Matt was in his place, he’d–

No. These were the exact thought patterns he needed to avoid to prevent another…mistake like the night at Fogwell’s. He'd been doing a decent job not falling down the same rabbit holes–that would all be for nothing if he started fantasizing again now. 

But how could he not? You were so thoughtful, and intelligent, and adorable, and goddamn magnetic. Every action you took reeled him further into the treacherous web he was trapped in–unwittingly intoxicating him with your kindness. You were unlike anyone he’d ever met, that fact had only been highlighted since he’d embarrassed himself at Clinton Church. 

Shuddering against a gust of wind, Matt continued his brisk pace down the sidewalk as his fingers grew numb around his cane. He was quickly regretting his decision to leave his jacket behind. Hopefully, the bookstore was willing to shell out the extra bucks for a decent amount of heat and he wouldn’t find you as a popsicle when he took shelter.

Huffing out an irritated breath, Matt rounded the corner towards your place of work. It had become almost a habit for him to accompany you during your shifts, keeping you company and working through assignments together. Honestly, it was the best part of his day. 

Matt frowned as he closed in on the bookstore. He was having a difficult time hearing your heartbeat, which was usually pattering away, steady as rain, a few feet from the entrance of the store. As he pushed open the glass door, he could finally make out a steady thump accompanied by your familiar scent in the far corner of the shop. 

The constant smell of ink and stale paper, now mingling with the slightly acrid smell of dust burning in the vents, stuck in his nostrils—as it always did when he arrived here. It was comforting, in a way, reminiscent of both you and the library at the orphanage, where he’d spent much of his freetime as a child.

Smiling to himself as he approached you, he folded up his cane and let his body relax in the warm bubble of generated heat. You were asleep, curled up around whatever project you’d been working on like a cat on a sunlit patch of carpet. Settling on the floor beside you, Matt propped himself up against a bookshelf before unzipping his backpack as silently as he could. It wasn’t the most organized set up to work with, laying his textbook on the floor and holding his computer in his lap, but after the late night you’d had, there was no doubt you needed the rest. 

Body twisting in sudden discomfort, you whimpered beside him, unwinding from your bent shape and towards his body. Readjusting so that your nose was pressed against his thigh, you sighed, brow unfurrowing. Even unconscious, you appreciated his presence. 

The denim of his jeans couldn’t have been comfortable for the delicate skin of your nose, but he was hesitant to move an inch if it meant waking you. Besides, the small pinpoint of heat against his thigh was rather pleasant. 

Listening to your slumbering breaths, Matt was reminded of his childhood meditation sessions–the sound acting as a barrier between him and the rest of the world, clearing his mind without any effort on his end. He matched his breathing to yours, heart rate slowing to mirror yours as he ran his fingers along the lines of braille in his textbook. 

As Matt worked his way through two separate reading assignments, you slept peacefully, nuzzling into his leg every so often with a soft puff of an exhale. It felt like Matt had only spent mere seconds in this unintentional paradise when you began to stir. 

With a stuttering breath, you stretched, the sound of your muscles tightening akin to plucking a guitar string rapidly. As you regained awareness, Matt could hear the spike in your pulse–you must have noticed him, then. 

“Morning, bug.” He murmured. On a whim, he ran a hand over your shoulder gently, not wanting you to feel unwelcome or embarrassed for lingering in his personal space. “Have a good nap?”

Beneath his palm, you relaxed, your lashes fluttering as you hummed appreciatively. “Hi. Sorry for using you as a pillow.”

“No apology necessary. You ok?” He squeezed your shoulder as you sat up, pulling at your clothes to unfurl the wrinkles from them. 

“Yah, just tired after last night.” You laughed, but the sound was a step too high in pitch to be genuine. 

“Ugh, I feel you. I think both Foggy and I spent more time in the bathroom than in our beds last night.” Matt chuckled, trying to quiet the devil inside him with a reminder that you’d come to him if something was actually wrong. 

Grimacing, you knocked your shoulder against his. “God, Murdock–” You giggled, pressing a palm to your stomach. “My hangover is much too present for that image. Warn a girl next time.”

Shooting you a bashful smile, he nodded dutifully. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok, trouble. No harm done. Well, not much.” With a heavy sigh, you rubbed at your eyes, leaning to grab something that had slid beneath the bookshelf Matt was seated against. “Damn, this manual must have been more boring than I originally thought. It knocked me right out.” 

“Learning astrophysics on the side?” Matt jested, smirking at you.

“Oh yah. Astronaut is my backup career.” You laughed, the sound beautiful, and real, this time around. “No, um, setting up a new printer, actually.” 

Confusion pooled in Matt’s stomach, for some reason you were embarrassed by the machine behind you, if the heat flooding your cheeks was any indication. 

“Oh, did the old one break?” He asked, tilting his head.

“Er,” You paused, looking between him and the plastic box beside you. “No, well not yet, but…just promise me you won't be mad. Well, you’re entitled to anger, I guess, because I may have overstepped?”

Thoroughly bewildered now, Matt swiveled his chin so that his attention could focus on your general area. “Overstepped how?” 

“I sort of badgered my boss into buying a braille printer?” The sentence was phrased as a question, but the thing was there, beside you. It's existence evidence that you had definitively obtained one. 

Matt was silent for a moment, processing the new information. It suddenly felt like he had swallowed a golf ball. He could barely make out the pounding of your heart over the blood rushing in his own ears. “Um...”

“Shit, Matt, I'm sorry. I should have asked you before I did it. I meant to, I just—” Your nervous ramble was punctuating with small wisps of heat emanating from your gesturing hands. 

“Sweetheart,“ He interrupted, snatching one of your dancing hands out of mid air and holding it delicately. ”Please breathe. I'm not angry with you.“ 

”Oh thank god.“ Your body slammed into his, nearly bowling him over, as you tackled him with a hug. Your nose was chilled as it bobbed up and down the skin of his neck. ”I don't know what I'd do if you were mad at me. I care about you a hell of a lot, trouble.“ Your lips tickled his throat, breath ghosting over his shoulder as you murmured. 

”I care about you too, sweetheart.“ His voice was strained, his thoughts consumed with surprise and adoration. He didn't deserve you. 

”Hey, don't say that!“ Shit, he must have said that out loud. ”Of course you deserve me, Matt. And you deserve Foggy, and anyone else who you enjoy being around. You're a good person, Matt. You deserve happiness.“ You spoke firmly, not leaving room for his internal doubt. 

Constricting your arms, it seemed like you were trying to meld your body with his. One of his hands pressed into the grimy carpet as he held the two of you up, the other rested around your shoulders, his thumb rubbing circles into the fabric of your shirt. 

”Shut up.“ He muttered, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he turned his focus to the rough threads of the stiff carpeting beneath his hand. 

”Never.“ You giggled meekly, squishing him to your body one final time before releasing your grip. ”Now I should probably get back to building this printer, if you ever want to be able to use it.“ 

”Did you want a hand?“ He offered, sniffling discreetly. 

”I'd love one! Will you read me these while I reorganize? I got to step 7 already.“ Handing him the packet of braille instructions out of the manual, Matt skimmed the bumps until he found the proper section. 

”You attached the paper tray?“ He asked, waiting for you to confirm before reading the next step aloud.

A few days after painstakingly building a new printer together, you found yourself sprinting for the door to Matt’s building, which was rapidly closing and just out of your reach; you stifled a victory squeal when you were able to step into the threshold of the dorm before the door locked on you. Now you wouldn’t have to ask Matt to let you in the building, and that was pretty fortunate given how on edge the poor kid seemed already this morning. 

You tended to rise early, given your rigid schedule of classes and work shifts, preferring to start your day just after the sun rose and have as much time to accomplish things as possible. Matt wasn't as much of an early bird as you were, but he tended to wake up before 9am on weekends, while his blond roommate would sleep well past noon if he had the option. Because of your similar schedules, you weren't surprised that Matt had called you; you were surprised, however, that he sounded so miserable before 9am on a Friday. 

The conversation hadn't been long, just Matt asking if you'd like to come over and a small warning that he'd ”woken up on the wrong side of the bed“, but you weren't phased. While the handsome law student tended to be on the more reserved and sarcastic side, he was rarely noticeably irritated—tending to play it off with quips to keep his cool around anyone he didn't know too well. There had been a handful of days where you had witnessed his anger slipping through the metaphorical mask that he wore, but he never aimed it at you. Every once and a while, his tone would get a bit snappish, but it never went further than that, and you trusted him to keep his wits intact when he was upset. 

So you came quickly with hot breakfast as a peace offering to provide the help he'd asked for, in his own non-descriptive way. Taking the cement steps two at a time, and deftly avoiding the perpetually damp spots on the landing (ew), you were able to make it from your place and to Matt's door in under 30 minutes. 

Raising a fist to knock on the thick door, you jumped in surprise—nearly spilling the coffees—when Matt yanked the door open before your knuckles had even skimmed the surface. 

”Christ, Matt!“ You squeaked, shaking off the residual adrenaline as he beckoned you inside and shut the door behind you. 

If he hadn't already informed you that he was feeling out of it, his lack of opaque lenses would've immediately alerted you of the fact. Matt was very averse to interacting with people without his glasses covering his eyes, even when the only people around were you and Foggy. You'd never brought it up before, not wanting to add to his clear discomfort about the topic, but you assumed he was self-conscious of the way he looked without them.

Regardless, seeing his hazel eyes darting ambiguously around you made you catch your breath. You'd only caught glimpses in the past, but uncovered? They were stunning. The brown of his irises was flecked with green and the reflection of sunlight made them look like pools of honey. 

Hearing your choked inhale, a peach-colored blush bloomed across Matt's cheeks. “Shit, hold on, let me find my glasses. I set them down last night and I—” Pacing around you, Matt began to frantically rummage around on his bed, where he'd dumped a pile of what looked to be most, if not all, of his belongings. “They're here somewhere, I know it.“ 

Setting the paper cups on Foggy's nightstand, you walked a wide arc around the anxious boy as if he were a startled animal, gently laying your hand on his wrist. ”Matt,“ 

Looking up dolefully, Matt's eyes were glassy as he rambled. ”I'm sorry. I misplaced them. I should've warned you—“ 

”Matty, stop for a minute please.“ You encouraged, waiting for the boy to pause and take a breath before you continued. ”You don't need to wear your glasses around me, trouble. I'm sorry if I seemed thrown off, I was admiring your eyes.“

”You were...admiring them?“ Matt's voice broke around the question and your heart squeezed. 

”Yah, Matty, you have beautiful eyes. I've never seen them up close before.“ Taking his hands, you ran a thumb over his knuckles as he processed your words. 

After a minute of silence, you tugged him towards his desk chair. “Why don't we sit for a minute and have breakfast before sorting through your stuff.” 

Letting you maneuver him into the threadbare seat, he tilted his head as you placed a paper bag and disposable cup on the desk next to him. “You brought me breakfast?”

Chuckling at his genuine confusion, you nodded. “I did. It would help me feel better if I 'woke up on the wrong side of the bed', so I figured it couldn't hurt. It's just a muffin and a latte from Blue Java, nothing special.“ 

Matt didn't say anything, his lips still pursed as he opened the bag and began unwrapping the pastry. After breaking off a few pieces to eat, his frown ebbed. ”Thank you.“ 

”Anytime! So, doing some reorganizing this weekend?“ You sipped your own coffee, trying not to laugh as he wolfed the rest of his muffin down. 

”Something like that,“ Matt grumbled, tossing his balled up trash into the plastic bin across the room with ease. ”Our room was just, I don't know...gross, I guess? It needed to be cleaned and when I realized I couldn't find my glasses, I just freaked. I woke Foggy up, and neither of us could find them, so I started putting everything on the bed.“ 

Matt's lips quirked into a tiny smile. ”I think I scared him because he said he had to study and just disappeared. He's probably asleep in the library by now.“ 

You chuckled, picturing the blond passed out in the rows of old books. ”Well, his loss. I'm a hoot to clean with.“ 

”Is that so?“ Matt remarked, grinning fully now.

“Just you wait, Murdock. I have been told I am a fun AND efficient cleaning partner. Let's get this party started.” Standing up and brushing your hands together, you turned towards the items haphazardly stacked on Matt's bed. “How can I help?” 

Retreating into his shell a bit, Matt scratched at his neck. “Um, are you sure you want to? I mean, Foggy isn't here to confirm, but I have a really specific method for organizing my belongings, and I would understand if you didn't want to be bossed around.”

“Matt, it's your stuff that we are straightening up. You're allowed to be bossy.” You assured, silently cursing everyone who had planted seeds of doubt in this wonderful man’s brain. 

“Ok, just tell me if you want to leave.” Matt ordered. You mock saluted in response.

“Yes, sir!” You giggled as he shuddered with a scoff.

“You asked for it, sweetheart.” 

The next several hours were spent sorting through the deceptively small pile on Matt's bed. Matt tasked you with sorting things into categories, which mostly meant separating clothes from school supplies, while he put things back in their designated areas. After finding his headphones tangled, one of his binders broken, and still having no clue where his glasses were, Matt was sliding back to the edge of his rope. 

His jaw tensed as he grit his teeth, running his fingers along the sleeves of the sweater he was trying to fold in an attempt to straighten them. Growling in frustration he tossed the sweater back onto the bed and ran a hand over his face. 

“C'mere, trouble.” You extended your arms to him and he gratefully collapsed against you. Rubbing small circles into his tight shoulders, you felt a burst of pride as he relaxed against you. “You getting fed up again?” 

Matt nodded, face still buried against your neck. You frowned understandingly, untangling the tousled hair along his nape. “Hmmm, I guess we could take a break, what do you think?” 

Matt whined, tugging your hips toward his bed. 

Laughing at his reaction, you scratched at his scalp. “Ok, Matty. Why don’t we stop for a bit, then? Sound good?” 

“Mmmhmm.” Matt murmured, legs turning to jelly as you massaged his pounding head. 

Using one hand to shove aside the remaining items on his bed, you crawled up to the headboard and positioned yourself against the wall, letting Matt cuddle up to your side. 

You immediately ran a hand back up to his nape, resuming the rhythmic touches that you knew would calm him down. Matt shuddered, rubbing his face into your shoulder as he stifled a yawn. Chuckling at his oddly adorable actions, you wondered if he’d slept at all last night. “You tired, bubs?” You asked softly, grinning knowingly at his affirmative groan. 

“Go to sleep, bubba. I don’t mind.” 

He must’ve been exhausted because his mouth stayed closed, though you had fully expected an argument. After a few minutes of deep breathing, his body began to slacken against your side. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you adjusted the covers as best you could, given that they were covered in a couple dozen pounds of stuff, and tucked him in. And, with Matt dozing at your side, you continued sorting through the pile spilling across your lap. 

Matt didn’t dream much. Occasionally, he’d have a nightmare; his body experiencing phantom sensations like being hit or feeling someone’s pulse slowly fade, but that was the extent—until he’d met you. It was like you knew you had a direct line to his brain. Your soft touches lingered for hours after the contact ended, his frayed nerves still firing rapidly, replaying the feeling of your fingers in his hair, your lips on his forehead. 

He wasn’t meant to feel the kiss. Not that it meant anything more than platonic affection—he was fairly certain it didn’t—but that didn’t mean it didn’t electrocute every cell in his body, vaporizing the immense heap of irritation that had been building since he’d started his day off so poorly. 

You had that power over him. Haunting his every waking moment and chasing his subconscious while he slept. You were his constant. 

Wedged against you and his headboard, he felt safe, and fatigue had quickly overtaken him. He slept more peacefully than he had in weeks because of you, though the lack of Foggy’s sleep apnea definitely helped. Wading through a field of mental static, he rested, until your subtle movements beneath him popped his bubble of solace. 

“Matt?” You murmured, stroking a finger along his cheek. 

“Hngh?” He uttered, blearily. Was that a word? He was pretty sure that was a word. 

It must not have been a word because you shook with a giggle. Rubbing his cheek with your thumb, he could hear you nibble on your lip. “I gotta leave, trouble. I’m sorry, I’m meeting Evs soon.” 

The mention of your obnoxious paramour drew him fully out of slumber. He dug the heel of his hand into his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them. “Shit, I’m up.” 

“I’m really sorry to wake you up. Did you sleep ok?” Your voice wobbled with guilt and he tried to give a convincing smile. 

“Yah I did. Thank you for staying.” 

“Of course! It’s almost 3:00 pm. I texted Foggy and asked him to bring you food, he’ll be here with it soon.” As you spoke, you slid off of his thin mattress, adjusting your clothes and hair. 

“Crap. I didn't mean to hold you hostage.” Matt grumbled. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be! I enjoyed being your pillow.” You chuckled, but the statement held nothing but honesty, and that knowledge made his heart flutter. “I, um, I finished sorting your things. I didn’t put away anything unless I was certain of where it went, but…” You trailed off excitedly, snatching his hand from the mattress and placing a lightweight item in his semi-open palm. 

“I found your glasses! They were behind your mattress, I almost missed them.” 

Tracing the metal frames slowly, Matt choked on a breath. “Thank you, sweetheart.” 

“Oh you don’t need to thank me, Matt. We take care of each other, remember?” Your smile was evident in your voice. 

He stayed silent, far too concerned with preventing a voice crack to speak. 

Realizing that you may have overwhelmed him, you hovered in front of the bed. “Sorry to throw all of that at you right after you woke up. Did you want me to show you where I put everything?” 

“No,” He spoke raggedly. Clearing his throat, he started again. “No, I can figure it out. Thanks, sweetheart. For everything. Have fun on your date.” 

Your heart stuttered as he mentioned your date. “Thank you, Matty. I will. Call me if you can’t find something?” 

“I will, bubs.” With that final promise, he slid on his lenses and jumped out of bed to walk you out. Waving his final goodbye, he closed the door, falling against it as he gathered his thoughts. 

Striding back to his bed, he let his fingers waltz over the meticulous stacks of his belongings. You’d straightened up his notebooks, folded his clothes, even arranged his textbooks in alphabetical order. All just because he’d been frustrated and asked for your help?

Running his fingers over the sweater at the top of the column of clothes, his throat constricted as wet trails formed down his cheeks. Pulling the garment to his face, he inhaled faint traces of your soap and natural fragrance, the scent embedded in the fabric. As the warmth from your body faded from his sheets, Matt crumpled to the floor, still clutching the woven sweater in his fist. 

Thanks for reading!!!

Taglist: @eugene-emt-roe@abbyhaslongshorts@mrs-bellingham@abucketofweird@yeonalie@jadeunstablexx@spider-murdock@0ctober-writes@danzer8705

[tieronecrush]

hot & heavy

chapter twelve: sunshine baby

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 6.7k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), feeling familial and self-pressure, established relationship, spanish cause joel is latino, oral (m receiving), dirty talkkk king joel miller, soft joel, possessive joel, mentions of depression and symptoms, struggling with self, discussion of parenting, angst, arguing, i'm sorry </3

a/n: everyone go give @northernbluess all the love for always helping me with beta-ing AND cause we are gonna be writing a fic together :)))) more info on her monthly recap posted the other day xx love ya bestie! y'all enjoy this chapter (i have a feeling it will be RIP to my notifs)

Mid-week, your usual nanny family lets you know that they won’t need you for the day and to take the day off. With no other plans, you decide to visit Joel at his work site for the day to bring him lunch. You throw something together and head out from the neighborhood, calling him on speakerphone. It rings a few times before the line clicks and his voice projects from the small speakers on your cell phone.

“Hi, Mari baby. What’s going on? Is something wrong? You never call when you’re working.” Joel’s side of the line is filled with background noise, men shouting, and construction sounds of hammers, saws, and machinery.

“Hey, J. Nothing’s wrong, I actually have the day off. Kristie called this morning after you left to say she was staying home for the day so I’ve got nothing to do,” you hold up your phone as you come to a stoplight, “So I thought I would come to visit you for a little bit. I made you some lunch. Where are you at today?”

Joel’s smile is evident throughout his response, his voice getting louder to be heard over all the noise, “We’re at the Maple Avenue site. Right at the corner of Lake St. Not too far from home, so I guess I’ll see you soon?”

“I will see you in, like, ten minutes. Already on my way.” The two of you make a bit more conversation before Joel has to hang up, saying that he has to go tell someone ‘how to correctly install a support beam’.

“Alright, gotta go, sweetheart. Love you.”

“Love you too, J. See you soon.”

Exactly ten minutes later, you’re pulling up outside of the work site, confronted with the vague shape of a house with the framing up. You grab the cooler bag from your passenger side and climb out of the car, crossing the road and walking up to the younger of the two Miller brothers that you see standing in front of a table of plans and chatting with an employee.

Tommy looks up and grins when he sees you, clapping the other guy on the back to grab his attention, “Look who it is! Y’know, George, you better tell the guys that they better thank this woman right here — she’s the one who’s made Joel less insufferable.”

With a roll of your eyes, you stride up to Tommy and give him a hug in greeting before stretching out your hand to introduce yourself to George. He excuses himself to get back to his task at hand, leaving you with Tommy and waiting for Joel.

“So what d’ya bring me, sis? If you bring a treat, better have enough to share with the class.” He grins mischievously and reaches for the cooler in your hand.

“Eh, none of that, Tommy! If you ask nicely, I’ll give you the food I so graciously brought for you.” You smile and set the bag on the makeshift table of folding saw horses and a plank of composite. Unzipping the bag, you pull out the extra food you made for Tommy and pass it over, laughing when he pulls you in for a squeezing hug.

“God bless you, Posey, I was gonna have to have a gas station lunch today with the amount of shit we have to get done.”

“Quit squeezin’ the shit out of my girl, Tommy.” Joel’s voice fills your ears and you laugh when Tommy pulls away, happily picking up his sandwich and unwrapping it to take a large bite out of it.

“Hey, just thanking her for feeding me, too. Also, this is good as fuck.” He points to the food in his hand while Joel sidles up next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head.

“You’re welcome, Tommy,” you reply, grinning before turning to your side while Joel gently squeezes your shoulder. “Do you have some time for lunch now? Or should I wait around for a bit?”

Joel shakes his head and smiles, leaning down to press a chaste kiss on your lips, “I’ll make time for you whenever, darlin’. Think everyone can survive for a bit without me.”

“Y’all are too much. I’ve never seen my brother like this, Posey. Please continue to keep him happy cause he’s a much better boss these days.” Tommy laughs loudly when Joel shoots him a look of annoyance, the younger Miller turning to head into the framed home to check in on the rest of the work being done. Joel picks up the cooler bag from the table and takes your hand, nodding toward the street.

“C’mon, Mari, we can eat in the truck bed. Probably better than a construction site.”

The two of you sit on the edge of the truck bed, eat, and chat about the day. Joel mentions how much work he has left for the day, clearly stressed about getting enough done before he has to leave to get Sarah. You offer to pick her up from camp and bring her home, planning to make dinner so Joel can stay longer to get some extra tasks checked off his to-do list before the weekend.

After finishing up your meal, the two of you walk back up to the site, Joel taking you on a tour through the bones of the house. He explains the vision for each room and the finishes he’s going to propose to the family building it. You follow along with him, smiling at his enthusiasm as he gestures about bay windows and oak flooring.

When the two of you are standing alone in what will at one point become a bedroom with a view of the tree-lined backyard, Joel pauses and turns to you. Taking your hands in his, he looks down at them as he laces your fingers together before meeting your eyes with a tender smile.

“Y’know, I could build somethin’ like this for us one day. We could find a piece of land we love, maybe a little bit further out of the city to get some more space. Really make it our own…”

A squeeze of his hands reassures him in the moment, matching his sweet smile with your own, “That sounds wonderful, J. But I have to say, I like our house now.”

Your smile grows wider when Joel’s does, his brown eyes catching the midday sunlight and creases at their outer corners deepening along with his dimple. He pulls you into a tighter embrace, kissing you gently before nudging his nose against yours.

“Te amo, mi Mariposa.”

“I love you too, J.”

Music is playing from the CD player when Joel walks through the door later than he usually does. His shoulders are tense, his back is aching, and all he wants to do is sink down onto the couch and relax with you and Sarah. Toeing off his work boots and tossing his keys onto the entryway table, he bites back a smile hearing the slight commotion that is you cooking — some of that noise contributed by Sarah messing around with everything, too. 

The next song clicks over on the tracklist, the beginning notes of ‘Sara’ by Fleetwood Mac, a favorite in the Miller home since his little girl was born. He remembers singing it to her when she was an infant, letting her dance on his toes when she was younger. It’s been a while since he heard it, and walking to the doorway into the kitchen, a wide grin stretches across his face. The deep, dull ache in his muscles lightens at the sight of you dancing with Sarah, singing all of the words to her and her singing along with what she knows.

“Said Sara, you're the poet in my heart…Never change, never stop…” your voice carries over the stereo, Sarah’s popping in on the last two lines. Joel stands to the side, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches the two of you twirl around the island. At one moment, you catch his eyes and beam brightly at him, waving him closer and reaching out a hand for him to join.

He does just that, scooping up Sarah with a grunt to hold her in his arms while you rest a hand on his shoulder and one on Sarah’s back. The three of you move and sing together, the butterfly in Joel’s chest rapidly pounding its wings and bouncing against his rib cage.

This is all that matters, this is what he envisions for his future. Small moments like this, altogether, his girls — and maybe another baby or two.

A simple life.

The next couple of weeks are packed with nights spent between all three of you, weaving your unit tighter together. Board game night with Sorry and Monopoly, and a sore loser Joel who insisted that the official rules be read aloud, even in the instance that his own daughter was the game winner — only just pushing him out of the top spot.

There was another evening spent at the arcade and bowling alley, a rainy day that washed beyond sunset. All of you ran from the truck into the building, shaking off the droplets before weaving your way through the games until the bag of quarters you and Sarah had gathered dwindled completely. A round of bowling was played, Joel being ‘generous’ (his words) to allow the bumpers to be put up for Sarah…and you.

The latest evening, Friday night, was spent alone with Joel while Sarah was at a sleepover. Your parents were out of town with friends for the weekend, and Chris was out with some college buddies who were visiting Austin, leaving the house free for you. Joel came over, crawling into bed with you after another long day at work, and the two of you languidly spent the evening shifting between random conversations, lying together quietly, running ghostly touches over each other until the tension snapped. Intermittently, the air between the two of you would heat up, leading gentle touches to be filled with more pressure and building up until the room was filled with breathy moans and begging.

Joel unravels you once with his hands, another with his mouth; the third time he reaches for you, soft and low pleadings to fill you up, you flip him around onto his back. Trailing kisses down his bare torso, you stop at his waistband and peel away the cotton of his boxers from his sweat-sheened skin. A long sigh deflates his chest when you take him into your mouth, his precum and your saliva mixing in slick as you work your head up and down at a steady pace. He’s propped against your headboard, pillows shifted behind him, and a mesmerized, open-mouthed, and heavy-breathed look on his face as he watches you. His voice hits your ears in your focus on his pleasure, the things he’s compelled to say flooding between your legs all over again.

“Fuck, Mari…”

“Tu puta boca perfecta…(Your perfect fucking mouth…)”

“Such a good girl, a perfect fucking girl. Bet you love this, don’t you, mi zorrita? Love sucking my cock and makin’ me feel so good.”

“Gonna come — oh fuck, sweet girl, gonna let me come down your throat? Let me see you swallow it all, Mari baby?”

Your name leaves his lips in a breathless moan, his come shooting in thick ropes and spilling onto your tongue as he finishes. Lifting your head off of him, you show off the pool of it on your tongue before swallowing it and giggling as he quickly pulls you up for a sloppy kiss.

At the stroke of midnight, the two of you are treading water in your pool, only illuminated by the bulb string lights running across the pool deck. The water is warm from the sunlight simmering over it all day, the perfect bath temperature surrounding your bare bodies as you mess around. Evading Joel’s arms, teasing him as you swim away before he corners you, a satisfied smirk on his face when he stalks up to you and towers over you, tilting your head back with a dripping wet hand. He leans down to kiss you deeply, stealing the air from your lungs with its delicate intensity.

The light bounces off the surface of the water, reflecting in his eyes as you hold his gaze and silence falls over the two of you for a handful of heartbeats.

He speaks in a hushed voice as if any louder would shatter the moment, “M’gonna marry you. Gonna give you whatever kind of life you want — a house, babies, I’d move across the world with you if you wanted. Middle of nowhere. Whatever you want, Mari.”

A smile grows on your face, droplets littering your face as you match his volume, “The only life I want is one with yours.”

It’s morning on a Saturday and you’re rushing around the kitchen, sloshing coffee in your half-full mug and waiting for your toast to pop out. You have only about twenty minutes until you had promised to meet Joel and Sarah at his truck in his driveway, the time counting pressuring you, especially considering you’re still wearing your pajamas and have a bad case of bedhead.

There’s a brief moment to breathe as you take your finished toast out of the toaster and stand in front of the island to butter it, reaching for the jam as your mom walks in from the living room. You glance up at her before continuing your task, passing her a greeting that she returns while refilling her coffee mug.

“Oh, sweetie, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something.” Your mom turns toward you, leaning back against the counter. Your stomach flips at the statement, nerves at the ready to start to hear something along the lines of ‘So you and Joel…’ But that doesn’t come; instead, your mom continues with a different line of questioning. “You know Sherri’s son that was about a year older than you all throughout school?”

“Um, yeah, I think so. Isn’t his name Ollie?”

“Well, he goes by Oliver now, according to his mother, but yeah that’s him.”

Another look is exchanged when you glance up at her, picking up a piece of your quick breakfast and taking a bite. You speak with a mouthful, “Okay, so what about Oliver?”

There’s a look that your mother has given you over the years of being her daughter. It’s a smile, but not any old smile that she gives out willy-nilly. No, this is a smile for specific situations. When she really wants you to hear her out, to do what she’s suggesting — if you can even call it that. Most of the times she’s used it on you, it’s left you no choice but to follow through on what she wanted.

The look on her face is exactly that right now.

Along with that persuasive face, she stands from her place at the counter, striding over to you and resting a hand on your shoulder while she looks you in the eyes.

“Well, sweetie, you have been home for nearly the entire summer and I haven’t seen you with anyone but your college friends a couple of times or Joel and Sarah. And I mean, they’re lovely people, but you probably shouldn’t be spending your entire free time with a nearly ten-year-old girl and her dad…”

Inside, you find yourself flipping straight to anger, ready to defend those two with your life, to defend your actions by telling your mother everything. How Joel isn’t only Sarah’s dad, how he’s the man you’re in love with and have been in love with for the last few years. How Sarah isn’t your ten-year-old next-door neighbor, how she isn’t only a little girl you nannied for a summer. She’s a light in your life, a wonderful addition that you’ve received on top of your love for Joel. Sarah’s become like — like a daughter to you.

All of these words die in your throat, fearing the outcome — disappointment, possibly resentment from Joel, and confusion and likely anger from your parents for keeping such a secret. Instead, you continue to listen to your mother’s request.

“I was talking to Sherri about you, and she said that Oliver moved back from Chicago to Austin this summer, about a month ago, and he’s been looking for some people his age to hang out with — is that what y’all young people call it now? Basically, she said he’s been looking for a girlfriend. I thought, knowing he’s a sweet boy, that maybe you would be interested in meeting up with him?”

“Uh—um, I don’t—” you ramble, feeling your cheeks heat up in the scramble for a legitimate excuse.

“I mean, you don’t have to say anything now. But I got his number from Sherri so I’ve got it if you want to reach out to him. She said she chatted to Ollie—I mean, Oliver, and he said he remembered you and would absolutely be interested in gettin’ reacquainted.”

That same smile paints your mom’s face, tilting you in the direction of simply agreeing to get her to stop. But then your mind flashes you an image of Joel, laying next to him a few nights ago in bed with his boyish grin, giddy like a schoolgirl when you casually said ‘I love you’ to him before going to sleep. That is what you’re thinking of when you address your mother again, a smile of your own on your face from imagining your man.

“I’ll think about it, Mom,” you say, a flat out lie to appease her. You finish up your breakfast and down the rest of your now lukewarm coffee, rushing around her to the basement door leading to your studio. The answer is enough to satiate your mother, her returning with her filled coffee mug to the living room and leaving you to finish your mad dash to get ready for the day.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry! I woke up late and then I was trying to eat breakfast quick and my mom came in and was trying to talk to me and I still had to get ready—” you ramble as you rush across your yard to Joel’s driveway where he is awaiting next to his truck with Sarah already seatbelted in the back row. Joel holds his hands up and laughs, interrupting your train of explanation.

“Woah, woah, slow down, Mariposa. You’re like a minute late, we’ll still make it on time.” He nods to the truck, leading you around to the passenger side and opening the door for you, lending a hand for you to get up. While Joel rounds the front of the car again, you turn around in your seat after belting yourself in, smiling at Sarah.

“Hey, sweet pea. Excited about your softball game?”

“Hi, Posey! I’m excited, but also I know that Daddy’s gonna get annoyed about something the umpire does or the other team, so I’m sure he’ll get yelled at again.” Your head snaps to Joel when he climbs in, guilt all over his face as he cringes. The engine rumbles to life as it turns over, and the three of you start the drive across town to the tournament fields. 

You shake your head and roll your eyes, turning back to Sarah. “Don’t worry about him today, I’ll keep him in line so y’all can have one game without him gettin’ too competitive for you all. You just have fun with your teammates and do your best.”

“Hey, I always want her to jus’ do her best. And I want the other team and the umps to do their best and not make poor calls or crappy plays.”

Sarah laughs at your playful back and forth, the two of you resigning the conversation to listen to the radio. Joel reaches across to take your hand in his, resting them both in your lap while the breeze from the open windows blows your hair around.

Before you know it, Joel is pulling into a parking spot at a park district site, the screams and laughter of children melding with the clink of metal bats and soft thuds of softballs landing in leather gloves. It pulls you back to your childhood, endless summer weekends spent across the state of Texas for your younger brother’s baseball tournaments.

Sarah whips off her seatbelt and scurries out of the car, running across the grass to meet her teammates at the dugout of their assigned field. Joel chuckles to himself and shakes his head, cutting the engine and turning to you.

“Ready to witness some riveting sportsmanship?”

“Well, from what Sarah said, I think I’ll have to keep an eye on you for your sportsmanship. Are you really one of those dads?” You lift an eyebrow, a smirk held back on your face.

“Maybe…”

With a shake of your head, you reach over and pat his thigh, warning him, “Be a good boy, and we’ll get some ice cream after. Deal?”

His thigh tenses under your touch, a quiet puff of a sigh leaving his parted lips. He shakes himself out of the daze, licking his lips and holding your eyes, “Do I get something else if I’m a good boy?”

“Maybe…” You throw his response back at him, peeling your hand from his leg with a satisfied smirk, and climb out of the truck to follow him toward the bleachers. Joel makes a detour to drop Sarah’s bag at the dugout, wishing her luck while you send her a wave from the seating area.

Climbing up a few rows, you shoot a friendly smile to the other parents there, all of them giving you a curious look. Settling on the bench, you rest your hands on either side of you, gripping the bleacher out of anxiety. The sun is beating down on you this afternoon, but it is nothing compared to the scorching stares you can feel from everyone around you, especially the mothers. A cool relief only comes when Joel makes his way over, stopping halfway up to you to chat with a couple that greet him cheerfully. You watch the umpires prepare the field, popping the rubber bases into place. The next moment, you hear your name called, following the sound to see Joel waving you over with a grin.

Carefully climbing down, Joel reaches out a hand when you’re close, helping you down to stand on the aluminum beam in front of him.

Introducing you to the couple seated in front of you, you share a smile with them while Joel’s hand rests on your waist, “This is Adam and Maria, they’re the parents of Sarah’s friend, Katie. Adam and Maria, this is my partner…”

You tune out the rest of the quick introduction when Joel uses your name, feeling a flip of your stomach when he drops the title so nonchalantly. You haven’t heard him say anything but ‘girlfriend’ in a lighthearted manner to Sarah or Tommy, and this feels way different. The word is definite, solid, and much more committed than the flippant terminology.

Getting out of your distraction, you make light small talk with Adam and Maria before Joel excuses the two of you as the game is about to start. He follows you up to the same spot you were holding before, sitting down next to you and tuning into the game immediately. Nothing more is said about how he introduced you, the tiny, one-word difference saying much more to you than any explanation could.

As Sarah’s team takes the field, Joel raises his hands and claps loudly, calling out encouragement, “Let’s go, Comets! Y’all got this!”

Sarah’s positioned at third base, with an ideal view of her from where you’re at on the bleachers. The game’s start is delayed from a change in the other team’s lineup being sorted, the pause in the fanfare causing Joel to turn to you and wrap his arm around your lower back. Wordlessly, he leans in for a chaste kiss, smiling sweetly when he pulls away and pushes his sunglasses back down on his nose.

“Didn’t get to give you a kiss when I first saw you.”

Instead of responding, you lean into his side when the umps break from the circle with the two head coaches and both of your focuses turn to the field with the first batter up.

It’s a fairly standard game until the top of the fifth inning. The field umpire called a batter safe at third after Sarah tagged her first, Joel standing up immediately and gesturing wildly as he yelled toward the field.

“What are you blind, ump? She clearly landed the tag before number twelve’s foot was on the bag. I could see it clear as day from here and I’m way older than you are, kid!”

The umpire crosses his arms, giving Joel a warning look as he strides over. Sarah stands at her base, shifting her weight back and forth uncomfortably as the girl running the bases gives her a glare. You can tell Sarah’s turning into herself, the unwanted attention making her second-guess in the moment. Every young girl has been there before, and it makes your stomach turn knowing the feeling she’s having.

“Sir, I’d appreciate it if you keep your thoughts to yourself and take them up with the head coach at the end of the game. We’re all trying to play a fun and fair game, and I’m calling everything how I see it.” The umpire stands at the fence in front of the bleachers, projecting his voice up to Joel. He can’t be any older than nineteen years old, likely a college kid with a summer job. And definitely not one that pays enough to fight with a man like Joel.

“Calling ‘em how you ‘em? You really must not have great eyesight then, son, ‘cause that was a horrible call. I’ve got reading glasses in my car, d’you think you need ‘em?” The last line gets a few laughs from surrounding parents, and one glance over to Sarah again and you see her talking to her coach, shoulders slumped and arms limp. Her face tells you she’s asking for something, a gesture toward her father standing on the bleachers.

“Sir, if you keep this up, I’m going to have to eject you from the field area.”

Reaching up next to you, you wrap your fingers around Joel’s wrist and tug harshly enough to draw his attention. One look into his eyes with a subtle glare — invisible to most bystanders but communicating everything it needs to in the moment to Joel. He resigns with a sigh, waving his hand up in understanding as he takes his seat again.

Speaking only loud enough for him to hear, you give him a playful pinch and roll your eyes, “We’re leavin’ if you pull shit like that again, ‘cause you’re mortifying your daughter and it’s not a good look to be kicked out of your kid’s little league softball game, J.”

He rolls his eyes in return, the reprimand getting him riled up again, “But that was such a bullshit call, Mari. I couldn’t let the ump—“

“You can and you will. Sarah’s here to have fun, and you’re here to watch her have fun. If she gets serious about wanting to play softball and wants to join a league outside of the park district, have at it arguing with umpires and coaches. Cause you’ll be surrounded with other parents doin’ the same shit.”

“And how d’you know that?”

“I was a witness to the dramas of travel baseball for, like, seven years of my life. Dragged to tournaments for Chris every weekend over the summer. And saw plenty of dads like you.”

Joel laughs and shakes his head, leaning closer to speak low in your ear, “Sweetheart, I don’t think there’s a dad out there who’s like me…At least I hope there isn’t, ‘cause then what’s my appeal to you?”

You snort out a quiet laugh, shoving him away lightly before jesting, “Convenience. Barely had to walk fifty feet to find a hot dad. Didn’t need to prowl the baseball games anymore.”

“Convenience? Is that all it was?” He fakes shock and disappointment, a slow shake of his head until he breaks out into a cheeky grin, “Should’ve moved sooner.”

“Well, not that much earlier, manther.”

“Manther? Enlighten me, Mari.” Joel gives you a curious stare while his arm makes its way around your back again, resting at your lower side next to your ass.

“The male equivalent of a cougar. You’re a manther.” Beaming up at him, you laugh as he pinches your side, acting offended all the while he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“Only for you, Mari baby, only for you.”

The Comets, Sarah’s team, won the game 6-4. To celebrate, the team agreed to meet at the Tastee-Freez nearby to hang out and get some ice cream. The drive there was filled with Sarah and Joel recapping her plays, and a strong scold from the younger Miller about the older’s argument. You kept to yourself, smiling along with the jokes shot between them, sitting back to admire the two of them.

You never could have expected this kind of life with them when you saw their small family moving in from your front living room window. 

Joel reaches over, takes your hand, and links your fingers together with a soft squeeze. When you turn to him, attention focusing away the road in front of you while the truck rolls to a stop at the red light, Joel meets your eyes with a tender look. His mouth lifts at the corners, pursing his lips as he brings your hands up to kiss the back of yours. The small gesture and the glint in his eyes fill your chest with a warm rush of syrupy ooze, enough heat to spread to the rest of your body and between your ribs, and leave you with tingling nerves.

The parking lot is packed when you arrive, Joel opting to park along the side of the road in the mix of grass and gravel. Hopping out of the car, Joel is quick to get around and take your hand again, pressing his lips to the top of your head as the pair of you walk behind Sarah up to the snaking line filled with her teammates and their families.

“Remember our first date here?” Joel inquires, tilting his head with a growing smile.

Chuckling, you nod and reciprocate his smile, “How could I forget? You got a butterscotch-dipped cone, weirdo.”

“Hey, if I remember correctly, you’re the one who polished off my cone and I took yours. So quit knockin’ the butterscotch dip, Mari,” Joel’s voice is dripping with nostalgia, the date you two had two years ago feeling like a lifetime ago. While the line moves forward, you lean back against his chest, and his hands find your sides, skating up and down along the fabric of your sundress. In front of you, you reach out and rest your hands on Sarah’s shoulders, smiling when she leans back into your touch. Her tiny frame sways drowsily in your arms, one of your hands reaching up to play with her curls gently.

“Feelin’ tired, Sare Bear?” Your chin tucks into your neck to look down at her and she looks up, nodding slowly and stretching her arms in front of her. Reaching your arms around her shoulders, you hold her comfortably against her chest, the three of you in a tight-knit row in line. “Well, you’ll get a sugar high from the ice cream and then you can crash at home after you hang with your friends. You just give us the word and we’ll head home, yeah?”

Joel orders for the three of you at the front of the line, refusing your offer to pay and shooing you off to find a spot to sit. Sarah eyes a table of her friends and you nudge her side, nodding and telling her to go sit with them, “I’ll survive with your dad myself, I promise.”

Sarah giggles and jogs off, leaving you to find a spot at a small table for you and Joel. He drops off Sarah’s sundae to her before he makes his way over to you, handing off your chocolate-dipped twist while he keeps his butterscotch cone. It’s always easy conversation for the two of you, discussing plans for the next morning about when to leave to take Sarah to the aquarium and what to do for dinner when you’re home.

Things are simple. Reminiscing on old memories while making new ones, watching Sarah laugh and smile with her friends.

“So, what are you gonna do when she’s a teenager?” You inquire, taking your attention away from Sarah’s posse and focusing back on Joel.

“What am I gonna do? I think you mean what are we gonna do? I’m gonna need all the help I can get, and well, you’re the one who’s been a teenage girl before.” He gestures to your cone with his, and you reach it out to switch with him. Continuing to snack on his vanilla and butterscotch, the two of you talk about what you were like as a teenager and what you think Sarah will be like.

Before you know it, your cones are completely gone and you’re left with a pile of sticky paper napkins. Sarah walks over, plopping down next to Joel on the bench of the picnic table. The three of you chat for a bit longer before heading back to the car, en route to home for the evening.

Sarah’s tucked upstairs in bed, Joel’s sock-covered feet bouncing down the stairs that you hear from your place in the kitchen, finishing up your wipe-down from cleaning up dinner. Joel plops down on the couch as you walk back into the living room, greeting you with a sleepy smile and an arm-lifted to invite you in.

Happily, you cuddle into his side, giggling quietly as he pepper kisses across your profile while you flick on the TV. Mindlessly channel searching, you’re reminded of the conversation with your mother from this morning, and remember how you wanted to tell Joel all about it.

Sitting up and turning to him, you laugh quietly as you start to recollect, “Guess what I forgot to tell you this morning?”

“Hm, what, baby?” Joel answers, trailing his fingers along the bare skin exposed from your camisole.

“My mom came into the kitchen as I was makin’ breakfast and she told me about this kid, well, I guess he’s not a kid anymore, but anyways, this kid from high school that was a year older than me and is my mom’s friend’s son. And she was saying how good he’s doing, how he just moved back here from Chicago and is looking for people to hang out with, and then she gave me this look — oh my god, if you could see this look she does, it’s like she’ll completely shatter if you don’t do what she’s asking of you — and she tells me that she got his number. For me,” you guffaw, shaking your head before continuing, “And I mean, that look, I just couldn’t say no and so I told her I would think about it—”

“You would think about it?” Joel interrupts, sitting up straighter and brow knitting together as his voice grows half a decibel louder.

You squirm in your seat, cringing at the harshness in his voice and inching away to look him in the eyes, “Um, yeah. I mean I couldn’t just come right out and say ‘no’, she would ask me a million questions why.”

“Okay? And?” Joel removes his arm from around your shoulder and tilts his head in disbelief, exhaling out a laugh as he shakes his head.

“And what, Joel? Was I just supposed to tell my mother about us?”

“Well, no, but you could have said somethin’, Mari. That’s not very fair to me—”

“What would you have wanted me to say? You aren’t ready, Joel, or at least that’s what you said, and I have been more than willing to wait but I know my mom and I know she would have picked up on something if I said no.”

“What am I supposed to think when you’re telling me this, too? Like it’s some joke, ‘Ha ha. Isn’t so great and funny my mom tried to set me up with some other guy?’ That’s not funny to me.”

“Oh my god, are you serious right now? It’s not like we’re a joke to me, I just thought it would have been a little bit of a chuckle for us. I don’t want anyone else, Joel, and I thought you would have known that by now. If anything, I should be the one feeling some type of way about having to lie to my mom about my relationship status cause you don’t want to tell them yet.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have the capacity to deal with your parents right now, I’ve got my own business to run and my daughter to take care of and you've got your own shit—”

“Don’t. Don’t even start with that, Joel. You’ve had the same business and daughter for the last two years and you’re still not ready when I’ve fully committed myself to you and been as vulnerable as I possibly can with you. I am trying really fucking hard to get better for you, going to therapy and possibly starting medication. I don’t know what else would make you feel ready. Us being married? We kind of need to tell them before that point. And also, you seem more than ready to tell everyone else in the world. Your daughter knows, your brother knows, random parents at Sarah’s softball game know. Why can’t I share you with the people in my life?”

Joel groans and leans his head back, reaching his hands up to press the heels of his palms against his eyes. You can’t help but roll your eyes, standing up and crossing your arms over your chest as you look down at him on the couch. After a moment of silence, he drops his hands and opens his eyes, looking up at you with a dead stare.

“I can’t do this anymore. Not right now.”

“And when are we supposed to do it?”

“I don’t know, Mari! I. Don’t. Know. But I do know that I can’t do it right now, and I don’t want to do all this right now.”

“Oh, so everything in our relationship is operating on the basis of ‘when you’re ready’.”

“Quit bein’ ugly, this isn’t like us.”

“It doesn’t feel like it right now. I don’t know what else you need to be ready to be fully a part of my life, Joel. We're always going to have shit going on, life is never going to get to a perfect place.”

“Mariposa, I love you, but I don’t want to do this right now. I’m going to bed.” Joel shakes his head to himself again, pushing up from the couch and rounding the coffee table. He brushes against you, hand bracing on your side while he gets past you and heads up the stairs, leaving you in the dark.

Only the glow of the television illuminates the room, tightness in your chest as you glance around the otherwise empty room. Tears fill your eyes, a trembling hand reaching for the remote to turn off the screen and the sound, punishing yourself in the lonely silence for a few minutes before tiptoeing up the stairs. At his open doorway, you tentatively linger within the threshold, Joel’s form slumped on his side but adjusting its position and breathing unsteady — still awake.

Without a sound, he sees you standing there before he lifts the covers, a normally welcoming invitation with a smile and a ‘C’mere, Mari baby.’ Instead, you walk on eggshells to the bed, slipping under the covers before he drops them on top of you, his arm tucking against his side. When you open your mouth to speak, he rolls over, back facing you. As you fall asleep, you study his broad shoulders and the curls at the nape of his neck, itching to reach out and touch him, show him your care, tell him about your love. Apologize for everything, promise to continue the seemingly endless wait until he’s ready. But you tell yourself you have to stand your ground on this and just discuss everything later like he wants.

Later. Always later.

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