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andypantsx3 · 6 months ago

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LOADS OF FUN : TODOROKI x READER

SUMMARY: After moving into your first apartment together, Shouto seems more amorous than ever. You're not sure why—but when he comes home to you doing a load of laundry, more than your clothes are about to get tumbled. TAGS/WARNINGS: nsft (18+ only, minors please dni!), pro hero au, gn + afab reader, established relationship, fluff, emotional sex, table sex, cunnilingus, the shouto domesticity kink agenda goes absolutely crazy in this one lol (2.8k) NOTES: This piece is part of my pretty boy summer Shouto x Reader collab! Please go check out the other incredible fics people have written over the course of the summer; you will absolutely die over how good they are. This fic was also made possible through donations to the Fics for Gaza project. I cannot thank everyone who donated to one of the charities enough, as well as those who organized, reblogged, discussed, and got the word out. Lastly, I am so grateful for your immeasurable patience with me as I take time between fics to manage my workload, I hope I'm not too out of practice here lol. In summary: thank you, thank you, a million times thank you.

The sound of the door opening was hidden in the thump and glug of the washing machine starting its spin cycle.

Halfway across the house, you were oblivious—you had the clean laundry spread out on the kitchen table, hunting through the pile trying to match one of Shouto’s socks to another that seemed to have vanished into that mysterious void which opens somewhere between the laundry basket and the dryer. One of his shirts was half-folded over your shoulder, abandoned in favor of the sock search.

The rest of your things were still mostly tangled together on the table, warm and fresh and cottony, the few shirts you’d already folded sagging off the kitchen chairs.

It still gave you a little thrill—even several weeks after you’d moved in together—to see Shouto’s things twined up with yours—his enormous socks dwarfing yours, your sweaters clinging to the occasional piece of his hero suit that hadn’t seen enough action to need his agency’s industrial cleaners.

It all added to your sense of satisfaction with your afternoon—a frosty weekend day you’d spent cozy indoors, moving slowly and leisurely through some chores. A pot of soup simmered on the stove, and your favorite playlist worked itself through in lazy loops. Shouto was due off his rotation soon, and you hummed contentedly to yourself, entertaining pleased little fantasies of curling up with him for the rest of the weekend.

Which of course is when something moved in the corner of your eye. Your hum sawed up into a strangled screech, and you whipped around, flailing. Shouto’s sock launched itself full force at the intruder before you even registered you’d thrown it. In your shock, your leg caught against the table and you went stumbling—

—right into a pair of warm hands that caught you about the waist.

Your hands were on the man’s shoulders to push him off before you realized you recognized the touch—and that you’d caught sight of a distinct mop of scarlet and white hair as you’d whipped around.

“Shouto! Again?” you scolded reflexively, even as your heartbeat stuttered out of its wild kick into high gear. You tipped your head back to stare your boyfriend in the face, shoulders slumping in relief, letting him take some of your weight.

Shouto peered down at you, that tiny scrunch between his brows that indicated concern. “Are you alright, love?”

Your heartbeat pounded thunderously in your chest. “I’m—fine. But my god we need to get you a bell. I almost peed.”

Shouto’s mouth shifted minutely into something that might not have registered in anyone else’s face but was most definitely a regretful downturn on his. He looked even more unfairly beautiful than when he’d left you this morning—a little flushed and windswept from the unseasonable cold, that full mouth pink and pretty.

Your mind flicked momentarily off and back on like a circuit breaker, the way it always did when you had to process Shouto.

You’d understood he was once-in-a-generation levels of beautiful before you’d even met him, his face staring up at you from the glossy pages of various tabloids over the years. But in person, even after years of knowing him and several more dating him, Shouto’s appearance still managed to cross all the wires in a person’s brain. His features were an incomprehensible blend of aloof and elegant, sensual and warm—like a cold masterpiece of a marble sculpture had suddenly found himself with a consciousness and human desires and miles of warm skin.

“I did not mean to startle you,” he said, his voice low and warm. He sounded sincerely regretful.

You knew he hadn’t meant to—you’d long suspected his silent tread was habitually ingrained in him from years of hero work. And, in your most private and ungenerous thoughts, you suspected from years of making himself unobtrusive in his father’s home. The thought sat sour in your mouth, like a slice of pickled lemon.

You resisted making an equally sour face, shoving the thought away to make space for the reflexive flush of pleasure seeing Shouto always brought you.

“Welcome home, Sho,” you said instead, smiling up at him. Shouto’s hands moved on your waist, sliding gently beneath the hem of your tee-shirt to rest on the skin there.

He was still in his hero uniform, and as usual you felt a little goofy in comparison, in nothing but a tee and a well-loved pair of fraying sweatpants, which were this afternoon decorated with little flecks of soup from a brush with the pot.

But Shouto’s eyes were warm where they rested on you, and that perfect mouth crept back into a contented set. His long fingers smoothed over your skin as he watched you, thumb brushing your hip. He did not look like he found you at all goofy.

In fact, as his eyes dropped down to your ankles, slowly dragging back up to your face, you rather thought he looked a little appreciative. He even took a rather ungentlemanly step back, still holding you, to better take in the whole picture. His eyes wandered over the swell of your hip, the lines of the shirt against your chest, before darting to his own shirt, still folded over your shoulder.

His fingers flexed tellingly on your waist, and those heterochromatic eyes were both a little bit darker as they flicked back to yours.

His obvious regard made you feel warm. You shifted on your feet, shuffling.

“I was just—doing laundry,” you said for something to say, your mouth feeling kind of dry. Something about him always made you feel sort of shy and light-headed, even after all this time together. “And I made soup. I was thinking we could eat on the couch and watch one of those horrendous old All Might films?”

Shouto’s eyes darted to the stove, then beside you to the pile of your laundry, lingering for a long minute. His long lashes dipped, almost fluttering as his gaze traced over the tangle of your things together. His eyes flicked back to you. He was still for just a moment, watching you assessingly.

And then all of a sudden the world spun in front of your eyes. The hands at your waist lifted you clean off your feet, and you let out a startled “oof!” as you found yourself laid out in the pile of laundry on the table, sheets and sweaters bunching beneath you.

Shouto moved over you, stepping between your spread thighs, right at the edge of the table.

“You have no idea,” he intoned in a deep, delicious tone that went right down your spine, “what it is to come home to you like this.”

You wondered at that, feeling a strange combination of confusion and flattery, when Shouto’s mouth descended onto yours. His mouth was soft and sweet and insistent and absolutely perfect. The table groaned as he laid some of his weight out over you, pinning you into the laundry as he kissed you.

Your fingers clutched at him immediately, curling in his silky-soft hair, cupping his face to yours. One of Shouto’s own hands shifted to your thigh, holding you against him as he pressed himself harder into you.

You heard yourself making little gasps of appreciation as Shouto’s mouth moved down to your neck, laving hot kisses down your throat. You reveled in the feeling of him over you, broad and strong, his shoulders blocking the glow of the overhead light, casting shadows over you.

He’d been a lot like this lately, ever since you’d moved in together. He’d been adequately amorous before, of course, and blessed with a pro hero’s strength and unflagging stamina. But a few weeks after you’d moved in together you’d actually decided you needed to reactivate your gym membership given the amount of incredibly athletic sex you were suddenly having over almost every surface in the house.

One of the only spots yet to be touched was the table though, which Shouto seemed determined to rectify at this very moment.

He pulled back from you, his mouth flush from your kisses, looking a little entranced as he stepped out from between your thighs. You made a little noise at the loss of weight and heat over you, but Shouto caught the fabric of your sweatpants, gently but determinedly tugging them off of you. Your underwear was tossed right over one broad shoulder as Shouto went to his knees, and then his mouth was right back on you.

A wave of wild heat licked up your stomach at the noise of appreciation he made before sealing his mouth over you, strong fingers clutching your thighs to keep them apart.

“Oh my god!” you said, pleasure zinging right up your spine with the first lave of his tongue over you. “Shouto!”

Shouto let out a deep, pleased hum, two long fingers sinking into you embarrassingly easily as he worked your clit with his mouth. Your back arched and you could feel your clothing shift with you, Shouto’s shirt balling up under your shoulder blade, still half-draped over your shoulder.

“Oh, oh!” you heard yourself saying as your fingers twisted in the clothing, shuddering with every lick and suck of Shouto’s perfect, amazing, talented mouth.

He worked you with the expertise of long, dedicated practice—everything about him calculated to drive you insane. One moment he was excruciatingly soft, mouth slack and the touch of his tongue as fleeting and light as the brush of a butterfly’s wing. Then the next he was sucking relentlessly, teasing firmly with the tip of his tongue as his fingers played with you.

Your first climax hit you mortifyingly quickly, and Shouto seemed to know it before you did. His grip tightened on you, holding you down as you bucked against his mouth. Shouto looked more than a little smug as he got to his feet again, unbelting himself and laying back out over you.

He kissed you some more, the taste of yourself always a sort of shock to your system. But Shouto never seemed to mind, and if anything only seemed hungrier for you, mouth pulling at yours like he meant to devour you.

You felt the touch of his hand between your thighs as he lined himself up, then sank into you easily, groaning appreciatively like he’d just sunk into a hot bath. He bit carefully at your neck, one large hand pressing your stomach down to keep you pinned against the edge of the table where he wanted you.

“I always want to come home to you like this,” he intoned into the skin of your neck, his mouth sucking dizzying patterns into your skin. “Always.”

You could barely think past the slide of him inside you, thick and full and blissfully exquisite. He really was the most perfect man on earth, and he always felt like it too.

You barely managed to blink your eyes open to watch him, trying to catch his meaning in his face. Shouto watched you back, those blue and grey pinned on you like he couldn’t bear to look away from you as he moved inside you.

“You—” you panted out, trying to cling to the thoughts threatening to wiggle out of your grip. “What do you—? Of course you’ll always come home to me.”

Shouto bucked into you harder, the slap of his hip against the bottom of your thigh echoing loudly over the burble of soup on the stove. His eyelashes fluttered, mouth softening, and a realization struck you almost dizzy.

Oh, he really liked that.

You suppressed a wave of giddiness, charmed and helplessly pleased that he seemed to like the idea so much. Was that why he’d been so especially ardent this past month? Was it really because you’d moved in together?

Shouto’s arm hooked under one of your legs, drawing it up firmly over his shoulder so he could press even further inside of you. He looked so good like that that you nearly lost the thread of your thoughts, especially when his next thrust felt like that. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head.

“Ah!” escaped you. “Fuck, Shouto. Like that, please!”

Shouto’s thumb pressed down on your still-sensitive clit and he had to dig the fingers of his other hand into the flesh of your leg to keep you from bucking him right out of you with the way you squirmed. Sweet fucking gods he was unreal.

Shouto fucked you harder, the sound of your skin slapping together obscene in the quiet of the kitchen.

You tried again, struggling to watch his reaction with the way you wanted to throw your head back and babble nonsense instead.

“You’ll always come home to me,” you repeated, gratified when Shouto’s grip on you tightened, a soft sound escaping him. “You want me right here for you?”

“Ah—yes, love,” Shouto panted, staring down at you again. He looked like he knew what you were doing but didn’t care. “Yes,” he hissed.

“Just like this?” you prompted, trying not to slur the edges of your speech when he gave another particularly mind-bending thrust of his hips. His chest rose and fell heavily and he looked a little wild-eyed, gazing down at you.

“Like this, for me,” he said. “In my home, in our home—”

You could hear the table squeal and groan with the force of his next thrust, and then you had to grip the sides of it to steady yourself as he fucked you, looking blissful. Your nails scrabbled at the edges of the table, caught in between a million sensations—the glorious fullness of Shouto inside you, the gentle grind of his thumb against your clit, the way he looked all flushed and beautiful and panting and wanting—

You squeezed your eyes shut, too overcome with the sight of him to look at him anymore, but it was no use. Your entire body trembled as you came, and Shouto let out a low swear at the way you clenched up around him, hunching over you and pressing himself so impossibly hard against you as he came too.

He slumped down against you, weighing you into the soft-smelling cotton of the laundry you were now definitely going to have to rewash. You could feel his chest rise and fall as he panted, his breath tickling the skin under your ear. He left an unbearably soft, sweet kiss just under the lobe, at odds with the near-wild way he’d just been fucking you.

You warmed, petting through his hair with a helpless affection.

“Well now I know what time I should always do our laundry,” you said.

Shouto huffed into your neck, but you could feel a tiny smile curve his mouth.

“It is not just that,” he said, but did not elaborate for some minutes until you elbowed him gently. He peeled himself off of you just enough to look down into your face. “It is the thought of our life together. Our clothes piled together. You in the home we chose and we made…” he said, trailing off.

But you thought you got the sentiment. It was about how easy it was, how uncomplicated. A safe place to come home to, no expectations, just soup and a pile of sweet-smelling laundry and someone happy to see you. It was something far away from what he'd grown up thinking a home was, possibly something he’d thought he’d never have—something you were determined to make him realize now that he always would.

You let your fingers pull through his hair again, smiling up at him. “I am going to have to do our laundry again, though,” you teased. “In case that interests you.”

And despite what he’d just said, Shouto did in fact look a little too interested. You watched his mismatched gaze trail over to the closet that opened onto the washer and dryer. A contemplative look snuck across his handsome face, carefully curling the corner of that plush mouth.

“There is another place we have not yet broken in,” he said slowly, voice dipping low. He looked down at you with an earnest expression completely in contrast to what he was suggesting.

You couldn’t help but laugh, and that was all the permission he needed to pull you up, gathering you up in his arms and layering a fat handful of laundry on top of you. His belt buckle rattled loosely beneath you where he'd barely done it up in his haste, and you laughed harder when he turned off the stove as you passed it.

Though it turned out to be a needed precaution—as neither of you found yourselves free to sit down to dinner for several hours yet.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shoto x reader #shoto x you #todoroki x you #todoroki x y/n #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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downbad4sylus · 2 months ago

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“This mark is different”

(part 3 to “I killed you”)

synopsis: You and Sylus return to the base from the field of flowers where he shows you his horns.

content: NSFW; 18+ MDNI; smut with some plot; sylus x afab!reader; reader is MC; use of Y/N; soft!sylus; virgin!sylus (i am of the opinion that sylus wouldn’t so much as breathe near another woman who isn’t MC); virgin!reader; kissing; oral (fem receiving); p in v; soft sex; slightly rough sex; no protection (wrap it up kids); multiple orgasms; idk if this counts as monster fucking but sylus has horns and a tail; mostly proofread

word count: ~3.5k

tags: @travelerth; @midiplier; @satansdaughter123; @bookfreakk

a/n: massive thank you once again to everyone who’s read, liked, and reblogged parts 1 and 2, i genuinely can’t express how happy it makes me that so many of you have enjoyed these little stories :’) anywaayyy, in honor of the new banner and all the new spicy content (bless our game developer overlords) here is part 3 where things between you and Sylus get a little spiicccyyyy

Okay, so when Sylus asked if you wanted to go back to the base and see his horns, you might have taken him a little too literally.

What you thought was him innocently taking you to his bedroom—warning the twins on your way that he still didn’t want to be bothered—turned out to be far from that.

Which was how you found yourself currently pinned beneath him on his bed, tongues tangling and lungs screaming for air, no horns in sight. Or tail. Or wings.

You lightly pounded a fist against his chest. “Sylus…I need…to breathe…”

Sylus was loath to part from you, but did so regardless, taking the opportunity to marvel at the sight of you before him. Flushed cheeks, swollen lips, chest heaving. You were beautiful, perfect, and his.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked, making sure he had your consent before he continued.

You bit your lip, and he nearly lost control then and there. How many times did he have to tell you to stop doing that?

“How far are we going?” you asked softly.

“As far as you want, sweetie,” Sylus assured. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

“I, um, haven’t really done anything before,” you confessed, turning your face away so you didn’t have to look at him.

Sure, you had a few boyfriends throughout the years but you’d never had more than a heated makeout session, it was usually the reason why those relationships ended. You weren’t a prude or anything, you were just saving yourself for when someone really special came along. Or maybe you’d unknowingly been waiting for Sylus to come along.

Sylus pinched your chin and forced your eyes back to his. “Me neither.”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. “Really?”

He nodded. “I’d never give myself to anyone but you.” He released your chin in favor of dragging a finger down your neck before wrapping his hand around it, careful not to choke you. “I do, however, have a very good memory.”

Your heart thundered in your chest. You wanted him. You needed him. And most importantly, you trusted him.

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Okay what, sweetie? I need you to tell me exactly what you want,” Sylus said, his thumb rubbing soothingly along the length of your neck.

“I want you, Sylus, all of you,” you said. “I want you to make me feel good.”

“Oh, Y/N, I’ll do so much better than that.”

He released your neck, trailing his large hand over your chest and down your stomach until his fingers teased the hem of your shirt.

“May I?” he asked.

You nodded. “But I get to take off yours next.”

Sylus chuckled. “Are you trying to make a deal with me right now?”

You nodded again, smiling. “For every one thing you strip off of me, I get to strip something off of you.”

His ruby-red eyes sparkled. “And those are your terms?”

“Those are my terms.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

You eagerly sat up and held your arms above your head. Sylus huffed, clearly amused by your enthusiasm, and gripped the bottom of your shirt in both his hands. In one smooth motion, he removed it, tossing it aside as his gaze roved hungrily over your now-bare skin.

When you reached for his shirt, intent on running your hands all over his delicious abs, you suddenly found yourself back against the mattress, wrists pinned to the pillows.

You blinked to find Sylus hovering above you sporting a positively wicked smile.

“Sylus! What are you doing?” you exclaimed, fighting to free your wrists.

He cocked his head. “You never said when you got to rid me of my clothes,” he drawled in that infuriatingly smug tone of his. “You need to be more specific when setting your terms, sweetie.”

Your mouth popped open. This was what you got for trying to make a deal with the King of Deals himself.

“Now, let’s get rid of this next,” he mused, trailing his fingertips along the underwire of your bra.

“How are you—“

Black-red mist enveloped your bra, tickling the skin underneath. It took only a moment for Sylus’s Evol to make quick work of it, the undergarment reduced to black and red specks of dust, leaving your upper half fully exposed.

Sylus’s pupils dilated as his hand gently cupped your breast, and you whimpered when his thumb brushed over your nipple.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “And all mine.”

He was barely touching you yet your core had already gone molten and was beginning to throb with need. You needed more of him, his hands, his lips, his tongue, his co—

A jolt of pleasure shot straight to your core, tearing a loud moan from your lips as Sylus closed his own over your neglected nipple. He continued, tongue laving and teeth biting until he switched to your other breast, giving it an equal amount of attention.

You were panting by the time he lifted his head with a quiet smack of his lips.

But Sylus was far from finished.

He kissed his way up to your neck, where he licked and sucked at your sensitive skin. You wanted to touch him, thread your fingers through his hair but he still had your wrists pinned firmly above your head with seemingly no intention of releasing them.

You cried out, your back arching as Sylus sunk his teeth into your neck.

“This mark is different,” he breathed, lapping his tongue over it to soothe the sting. “This time, I want to count how many times I can make you come before it fades.”

“Fuck Sy,” you groaned.

He trailed down again until he reached the waistband of your pants. He looked at you, one brow raised, silently asking for your consent. You nodded, straining against his hold on your wrists, desperate to bury your hands in his hair.

You nearly cried with relief when he finally removed his hand, only to have your wrists bound by his Evol instead.

“Sylus,” you whined.

He chuckled. “Be a good girl and let me have my fun first,” he said. “You’re the one who asked me to make you feel good.”

“Then stop teasing me already!”

“Mmm, very well.”

Sylus yanked off your pants, leaving you in just your underwear, which were soaked through by this point. He made quick work taking them off as well, groaning at the sight of you finally naked before him.

“So, so beautiful,” he murmured reverently as he reached out, brushing his thumb over your clit. Your hips bucked at the contact, and it was all the reaction Sylus needed before descending on you like a man starved.

Spreading your legs wide, Sylus licked your slick entrance, moaning at the taste of you on his tongue. Your back bowed off the bed, crying out in pleasure as he focused his efforts on your throbbing clit. He slung an arm across your waist and pushed you back down, keeping you locked in place, unable to escape the pleasure he was so eager to give you.

His unoccupied hand ghosted along your inner thigh, growing closer and closer to where his mouth was, until he reached your entrance and slipped a finger inside.

You moaned. “Please Sy,” you begged him. “Please let me touch you.”

Without parting from your core, Sylus’s Evol dissipated from your wrists, freeing you at last. Your hands immediately went to his head, burying your fingers in his hair.

Release tingled down your spine, the tension poised to snap. When Sylus added a second finger he nearly undid you then and there.

You grip his hair harder, moving your hips as much as his iron grip would allow, riding his face.

“Sylus,” you panted. “Sylus I’m gonna—ah.”

“Go ahead, sweetie,” Sylus said gruffly. “Come for me.”

And you did, the tension exploding as you came all over his mouth and fingers. He continued to lick and suck, his fingers pumping in and out while you rode out your high, stopping only when your body went limp beneath him.

“That’s one,” Sylus said proudly, straightening as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

You stared at the slick covering his fingers, transfixed by the way it shined in the light. Sylus noticed.

“Want a taste for yourself?” he asked.

Heat flooded your cheeks but when your eyes met his, you nodded.

“Open,” he commanded. You obeyed and Sylus slid his fingers inside your mouth. When you closed your lips around them he said, “Now suck.”

You couldn’t feel any embarrassment you were so turned on, tasting yourself as you licked and sucked Sylus’s fingers clean.

“Good girl,” Sylus purred as his withdrew his fingers. “Would you like to uphold your end of our deal now?”

You pounced on him, almost knocking you both off the bed. You tore at Sylus’s shirt, bunching it up over his torso before ripping it off his head. Without stopping to admire his physique, you rose on your knees, positioned on either side of his legs, and unbuckled his belt. The bulge in his pants made your mouth water and you wanted nothing more than to wrap your hands around his cock and wring as much pleasure out from him as he did you.

“Lift your hips,” you told Sylus.

He raised them, his chest heaving with anticipation as he watched you. You hurriedly popped the button and pulled the zipper down, then with all your might, grabbed the waistband of his pants and underwear and yanked.

Sylus’s hard cock slapped against his abdomen and you nearly abandoned undressing him at the sight of it. He was long and thick, precum leaking from his slit and onto his stomach. You wanted to touch it, taste it, feel it inside of you.

“Don’t stop now, kitten,” Sylus encouraged, his voice breathless. “You can’t leave my pants like this.”

You blinked, realizing you’d be staring at his cock, hands still gripped tight on his pants, which were only halfway down his thighs. You mumbled an apology and managed to finish stripping him, tossing his clothes aside onto the floor somewhere.

Sylus groaned as your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. “Kitten,” he panted. You dragged your hand up his length, gathering the precum at the tip before running it back down. “Hah—ah, that feels so good.”

But Sylus grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

You pouted. “I want to make you feel good too.”

He smirked. “You can do that some other time, right now, I need to be inside you.”

Sylus sat up, putting you at eye level.

Your breath caught. He was so beautiful, with his sharp, chiseled features, but what really took your breath away was the look in his eyes. He looked at you like you held his entire world in your hands. Like you were the only light shining in a life otherwise shrouded in darkness. You loved this man, and it was so heart achingly clear he loved you too.

Sylus cupped your cheek and ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

“I’ve never been so sure about anything before,” you answered him with a smile. “I love you, Sylus.”

He smiled too, a real smile, not anything like his smug ones. “I love you too, Y/N.”

He kissed you, lips pressing softly on yours. It was slow and unhurried, like you had all the time in the world to just enjoy each other. Even when your tongues met, you didn’t rush, Sylus gently pushing you down onto the mattress.

He drew back when his cock teased your entrance. “I’m going to go slow, okay? If it hurts or you need me to stop, just let me know.”

Your hands flew up to his face. “Sylus wait.”

He didn’t move a muscle.

“You said I could see your horns.”

Sylus faltered. “Sweetie, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

You shook your head. “No, I want to see them, Sy, and your wings and tail. I said I wanted all of you and I meant all of you.”

Sylus’s heart thundered in his chest, unsure whether to give in to your demands. He was sure if he protested further, he’d be able to convince you to drop it for now. In truth, though, he was nervous. Yes you had remembered your past together but you’d never seen him in his dragon form in this life. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you. He’d never recover if you saw him as the monster he truly was, you were the only one who loved him despite that very fact.

“Sylus.”

Hearing his own name tore him from his thoughts, his gaze fixing on your face.

“I love you now just as much as I did then, dragon and all,” you said firmly. “Please, I want you to be able to be yourself with me.”

Sylus hung his head and sighed, resigning to your demands. “Fine, but no wings, they’re too big for the bed.”

“Okay, I can live with that.”

Sylus huffed and brought his lips back to yours. As you kissed, black-red mist swirled at the top of Sylus’s head and at the base of his spine, revealing his scaled, black horns and tail.

He held his breath as he parted from you, bracing himself for your reaction. But when you opened your eyes, they were not filled with fear. They were filled with awe.

You lifted a hand and brushed the bottom of one of Sylus’s horns. He shivered at your touch, his tail swishing back and forth behind him.

“Are they sensitive?” you asked, ghosting your fingers up the length.

“Yes,” Sylus breathed.

You hummed thoughtfully as you angled your head, peering at his tail, then looking back at him. “You really are beautiful, Sy.”

He swallowed against the lump in his throat, moved far more than he could ever express with words that you found him beautiful, even like this.

“May I continue now?” he asked, deflecting with his usual arrogance.

You laughed and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Please.”

Sylus almost lost his self control at the relief that flooded through him. His cock was throbbing so hard it was painful, and the only way he could soothe it was to be buried deep inside your cunt.

Tail thrashing wildly, Sylus repositioned the head of his cock at your entrance, somehow even more soaked now than before. Coating himself first, he then began pushing past your folds.

You inhaled sharply at the burn as your walls stretched to accommodate his size.

“Relax, my love,” Sylus soothed, one hand trailing down toward your core. He gently circled your clit, encouraging your body to relax.

You whimpered, clenching around the head of his cock, desperate for him to fill you more despite the pain.

Taking his time, Sylus rocked his hips slowly, easing into you inch by inch all while rubbing your clit to keep you loose. By the time he bottomed out, the pain you’d felt had been long replaced by the pure pleasure of being filled with his cock.

Sylus trembled with the restraint it took to not start pounding into you, wanting your first time to be more loving and tender. There was plenty of time to take you hard and rough.

“I’m going to move now, okay?” he warned, breathing heavily.

“Yes, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He groaned and rocked his hips until just his tip was left inside you, before sliding back in. You both moaned as Sylus began thrusting in earnest, his pace slow and steady.

“You feel so good, Y/N,” Sylus panted. “Just like I remember.”

You were unable to respond, too consumed by the way he moved inside you, his cock hitting you in all the right places.

As though it had a mind of its own, Sylus’s tail snaked around one of your legs, keeping it locked to his waist.

Tension building already, your nails dug into Sylus’s back as each thrust brought you closer and closer to the edge. Sylus could fell your walls fluttering around his cock, and while he wanted nothing more than to lose himself right along with you, he was determined to rip as many orgasms out of you as he could.

He picked up the pace slightly and you responded in kind, tightening your grip on him as you cried out.

“Sylus, oh fuck, don’t stop, please please please don’t stop.”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He captured your lips in an impassioned kiss, sweeping his tongue into your mouth as you moaned. One hand cupped a breast, his fingers teasing your nipple before moving on the other.

His touch, his kiss, his cock, it was all too much.

Your back arched as you came, waves of pleasure washing over your body again and again with seemingly no end. Sylus kept moving through it, pausing when you finally slumped into the bed.

“That’s two, but we’re not finished yet, kitten,” Sylus growled.

You hardly registered his words before he was flipping you onto your stomach, a shocked oof breezing past your parted lips. He dragged your hips up so your ass was in the air, sliding his cock back into your cunt with ease. His tail slid along your ribs, then across your breasts, the hard scales rubbing on your sensitive nipples, and it pulled you flush to Sylus’s chest. On instinct, you reached back and grabbed onto both of his horns. The groan he let out was purely animalistic.

“You better hold on tight,” he whispered in your ear, the only warning you got before his cock started slamming into you.

You moaned at the delicious new angle, your body already working toward another orgasm. Admittedly, you’d been a bit nervous that Sylus was relying solely on memory from another lifetime in order to please you, and truly you would’ve been happy with whatever he’d be able to give you. But this? This was not at all what you expected.

“I won’t last much longer, kitten,” Sylus warned, his thrusts growing sloppy, “and I fully intend on bringing you with me.”

His hand slid down your abdomen, two fingers finding your clit and rubbing in quick, tight circles.

Your cunt clenched hard around his cock as you pulled on his horns, your mouth popping open in a silent cry. Sylus groaned, doubling his efforts both with his cock and his fingers.

“Sylus!” you yelled, body tensing. “Sylus, oh please.”

“Give me one more, Y/N,” he muttered. “Be a good girl and give me one more.”

Your climax slammed into you, your vision going white as the pleasure rocked your body harder than the last two. It drove Sylus straight off the cliff edge, chasing his high right alongside you, filling your cunt to the brim.

When you were both spent, Sylus collapsed on top of you, but you were too fucked out of your mind to care about his weight crushing you.

He didn’t linger on you too long though, rolling over onto his side, taking you with him as his tail was still wound around your breasts. He peppered kisses on your neck and shoulder, making you smile.

You twisted in his hold to face him, placing a chaste kiss of your own right on his lips. “I love you, Sy,” you murmured.

“I love you too, sweetie,” he replied quietly.

“Does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?” you asked, the picture of innocence.

Sylus scoffed. “I was under the impression I was much more than just your boyfriend.”

“You are, but I can’t introduce you to people as my soul-bound lover,” you protested. “We need a socially acceptable label, Sy.”

“You want to introduce me to all your little Hunter friends?”

“Yeah, as my small-business-owner-slash-fruit-stall-vendor boyfriend, Skye!”

He gave you an incredulous look, as if he couldn’t believe you were having this conversation right now. But, he’d never deny you anything. “Fine, I’ll be your boyfriend as long as you get to be my girlfriend.”

“You have to ask me first.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You have to ask me to be your girlfriend first.”

Sylus pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Y/N, my love, will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

You grinned and smacked your lips against his. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Little did you know that Sylus had much bigger plans in mind than you being just his girlfriend. Fiancé was good, but wife was even better. You know, for the sake of socially acceptable labels, of course.

#love and deepspace #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus x mc #sylus x you #sylus x reader #sylus smut #lads smut

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callumsturn · 11 months ago

Text

Sweet John

Summary: John keeps finding ways to stop by the hospital to see you, until he finally gets what he wants.

Pairing: Major John "Bucky" Egan x female reader Content/Warnings: John Egan being a charming bastard, 18+ smut (minors don't interact), unprotected sex. This starts real innocent, but it's really not. Notes: If you have any requests you’d like me to write please let me know! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you!

As you're helping wounded soldiers, rushing through the corridors of the campaign hospital at base, you bump into none other than Major John "Bucky" Egan.

You look up to see his smug smile. "Sorry, sweetheart." His hand gently over your arm as a way to balance you.

If you didn't know better, you'd even believe he might have done it unintentionally.

"It's alright Major." You tried to rush past him, with towels in both your arms to the end of the corridor.

"You shouldn't carry all that yourself." He takes half of the load from your arms. "Let me help. It's the least I could do."

He carries on up the corridor, following close behind you. You turn your head to him for a few seconds. You know you should be resisting. But he's very, very persuasive. Even when his uniform is covered with blood.

"You have blood on your uniform." You simply state.

"Oh, yeah." He shrugs, not bothered to wipe it off. "You know how it is." he tells you "Can't even breathe at battle without getting some blood splashed on you." He looks at you. "You've got some on you as well."

You look down at your own white uniform. "It has seen better days, yes." You continue to walk to the end of the corridor, entering one of the patient rooms.

John follows after you and looks around as soon as you're inside. "Oh, you're taking these to..." he trails off a bit as he sees who's laying in that bed. One of the men from his squad.

"Hi Sergeant. How are we feeling?" You spoke to the man resting on the bed.

The Sergeant looks up at you. "I've been better." As soon as he sees the Major behind you he tries to sit up, still a bit shaky. "Major." he says, his voice hoarse.

"I'm gonna clean that open wound and switch it up, is that alright?" you asked the man in the bed.

"Thank you, miss." he adds as you begin to gather your tools.

You can feel the Major's gaze on the back of your head as he watches from the doorway.

"It's gonna hurt a little. Take this." You hand the patient a bottle of alcohol to drink.

He takes it, grunting a little from the pain of just moving. He takes a sip and sets the bottle down. As you pour liquid over the wound to clean it, the Sergeant's leg moves in pain. He grunts loudly and moves in his bed. You feel the Major aproach the bed and hold the Sergeant with no trouble. He tries to move again but the Major's grip is firm.

"It's alright. Just hold still now." Major Egan tries to calm the man. You see the compassion and concern on his face. His hand is still on the Sergeant's lower body, ready to steady him again if necessary.

You say nothing, continuing to clean the wound and prepare the needle to stitch. The Major remains close. He watches you work, and his focus is almost entirely on exactly that. The Sergeant squirms in the bed again, but the Major remains in place.

"Easy." the Major tried to calm him down.

"Almost done, Sergeant." you mention as you finish stitching him up.

"Th- thank you." The Sergeant glances toward the Major. "She's real good, I'm telim' ya, sir."

You chuckle as you begin bandaging his wound. "Now... you shouldn't get up. Just try to rest and no missions for a few days. This needs to heal properly."

"Roger that, nurse." the Sergeant replies with a smile. "Will do." he finishes. "Could I get some more of that bottle, though? You know how it is."

You smile as you hand him the bottle for the second time. He takes another sip, as you hear Major Egan chuckle, keeping his eyes on the man and then on you as you put the remainder of the supplies away in a near medical cart, back turned to both men.

"She's pretty, ain't she, sir?" the Sergeant asks his Major who's sitting beside him still, in a lower voice.

As you barely hear the Sergeants comment, you tried to pay no attention to it, not curious to hear the Major's response.

You hear the Major chuckle again. "She is. I'm sure she's even got herself a fella already. Some lucky bastard."

"Probably some high rank fella, too." the Sergeant continues jokingly.

"Not a high enough rank for that, no." You barely hear Major John say.

As you finish storing all utensils, you approach both men again. "You rest up Sergeant. I'll tend to other soldiers now."

The man thanks you, as he rests his head back on the pillow and closes his eyes. The Major still has his gaze on you as you walk past him.

You continue to go about your shift, working on other patients in other beds. You do your best to ignore the Major's gaze when he is watching you from afar.

"Am I under some kind of evaluation, Major?" You asked unfazed, not looking at him, but still tending to a patient.

Somewhat caught off guard by the question, the Major's calm demeanour slips a bit. "Uh... no. I was-" he clears his throat "Just... checking up on... on your patient care."

"On my patient care?" You chuckled. "How's that going then?"

"It's going very well." he replies a little too quickly.

"Well I'm glad." You paused. "Thank you for the help back there."

"Any time." he replies. You see that he wants to say something else, but stops himself. "You've got everything under control in here then?"

"Sure thing."

"Great." He clears his throat again. "I'm..." He's having trouble finding the right words. "I'll let you get back to work then."

"Thank you, Major."

"Yeah. Sure, no problem." He finally leaves the room. You don't see him again for a while, but notice his eyes on you several times over the rest of the week or so.

A few weeks passed and the hospital became less busy. Patients were recovering and the missions were being successful over all. You notice the change. It's more peaceful, which is just what both you and the soldiers needed.

But there is one thing that has changed your routine. Major John "Bucky" Egan has been coming by to see you more often. And each time he does, he stays a little longer and talks a little more. He always makes sure to pay careful attention to everything you say, and always makes an effort to keep the conversation going. You can feel the other nurses and doctors giving you disguised looks, wondering if there's something going on with the two of you.

The Major even shows up when you're not working, and seems to hang around to see when you start your shift or finish for the day. He's always just hanging back, not being too obvious about it. You found it quite charming actually, the effort he would go into just to talk to you for a little while. It was definitely flattering. He's a handsome man, and he's got a certain charm and confidence about him that you can't help but like. Although you're still unsure how to feel about all of the attention, and that uncertainty definitely shows on your face as he approaches you yet again, and starts up another conversation.

"Major Egan." You say after he approaches you.

"Nurse." he replies with a polite smile. He's carrying a coffee mug and offerts it to you. "I figured you might be tired after your shift."

You gladly accepted it. "That's incredibly thoughtful of you."

"I try." he shrugs his shoulders with a smile. You can see his gaze still on you as you take the mug. For a little while he doesn't say a thing, just watching you as you take a small sip from the cup.

Suddenly, he clears his throat a little and speaks again. "I was wondering... there's a cafe outside the base... I though it'd be nice to go there and get something to eat." he says. He's still looking you straight in the eyes while saying it, his body relaxed and his hand resting casually on the mug. "Would you like to join me?" he adds after a moment.

"Right now?" you ask calmly.

He nods after a moment. "If you'd like." he responds. "We could both do with getting some real food. Maybe something more comforting than camp rations." He gives you a small smile, still watching you carefully as he waits for your answer.

You smiled at him for a second. "I'd like that."

His smile grows a little wider. "Great." He starts to back away. "I'll... I'll head out there now." he says "I'll be waiting just outside. The cafe's not far."

"I'll be right there." you smile.

He gives you one more little smile before making his way outside and waiting just out front of the camp, leaning agaisnt the wall and looking out the gate.

You head to the locker room where you find a colleague. You head inside to change out of your work clothes.

"Hey there." she grins "how have things been with you?"

"Good." you smile.

"Major's been going around again today, hasn't he?", she asks, glancing over at you.

"Um... yeah, he has." you continue to change into your clothes.

"Yeah, I figured as much. He coming around more often now? Spending more time talking to you?"

You chuckle, embarrassed. "I guess, yes."

"Well, I figured he had a thing for you" she laughs. "It was only a matter of time before he started getting a little flirtatious. He's not very good at hiding it."

"I think he's just being nice." you said as you buttoned your shirt.

"Sweetie, he's more than just nice. Major Egan has a reputation aroud here, you know. He doesn't go around being sweet to just anyone."

"Well, I don't know. I don't want everyone to go around and talk about this. The other nurses are real nosy!"

"Oh cm'on, don't worry. They'll just tease you a bit if they can tell that something's going on. And besides, nothing exciting happens around the hospital, so they cling to anything." she paused "But you're lucky. The Major's a looker, and I'm sure that you wouldn't mind his attentions, huh?" She gives you a playful nudge as she asks.

You chuckle as you looked at her. "He really is a looker isn't he?"

"Hell yeah he is." she laughs "A real man after my own heart. And the more things continue like this between you guys, the more certain I am that you might be the lady that gets to keep him to herself."

"Well, I don't know about that."

"Oh, come on. Just look at him. Just waiting right outside for you."

"Alright now. Enough of this." you said as you put your coat on. "I'm heading out."

"I'll see you back here later." she chuckles as you head out.

You find Major Egan just where he said he'd be. As you pass him and make your way to the gates outside, he starts walking with you, keeping his hands in his pockets.

"That's your work done for the day?" he asks casually.

"I have to get back in a few hours.... night shift."

"Ah... sure. Night shift. Busy workload tonight?"

"I don't think so."

He keeps his hands in his pockets the entire time, but he seems comfortable, confident, and content. "I bet it'll get busy in there." he adds, pointing to the cafe. "They have some of the best coffee and food around here."

"Have you been there lately?" you ask.

"It's been a little while now." he replies. "I had some time off last night and was going to go there, but I ended up making a stop by the hospital." he shrugs a little. "Had to see if you were looking after these soldiers properly, of course." he adds jokingly, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Yeah, you've been a real caring Major these last few weeks."

"Well, I was just making sure you were up to the task of caring for our troops." he continues.

"Oh, your soldiers never complained."

He smiles at your comment. "Glad to hear it." He looks at you again, a small grin on his face. "Or maybe it's just that they have something nice to look at while they're recovering?"

"Alright now Major Egan."

"Oh come on, why don't you just call me John, hm?"

You looked at him for a couple of seconds. "If you're sure."

He gives you a little nod, still smiling. "Absolutely."

You approach the cafe and he holds the door open for you as you walk inside.

The cafe is busy as John said it'd be. Off duty soldiers fill the place with their drinks, raised voices and the smell of cigars. Most of them are playing a game of cards at the tables. Several are chatting and laughing with each other, making it a very lively environment. Major Egan steps inside and closes the door behind him.

"It is busy, isn't it?" he asks as he guides you to an empty table. He holds your seat out for you before sitting down across from you. "You don't mind it being so busy, do you?"

"Not at all."

He smiles, his hands still in his pockets. A waiter comes to your table and takes your order. John asks you what you want and then orders for you. You just smile politely at the waiter before he heads off.

"I'm glad you agreed to come with me this afternoon." he says after a moment in silence. You notice him leaning forward on the table as the conversation continues. He seems quite calm, but you can tell how focused he is on you.

At one point, one of the soldiers at another table glances over at the two of you, and then nudged the others at the table. There's a murmur of conservation and a few more glances as the others take note of the Major and the nurse sitting together again.

The Major doesn't seem to notice though. It remains a lighthearted conversation, but there's an undercurrent of something a little bit more going on underneath the surface.

Before either of you realize, both of you have been talking to each other for half an hour. The Major shows no signs of losing interest in the conversation.

After a while, a couple first year Sergeants approach the table curiously, excitedly presenting themselves to John.

"Major Egan, sir!" the first says confidently.

"Major." the second follows. They both glance at you a tad nervously.

The Major looks up at them and smiles, still sitting at the table casually. "At ease, gentlemen" he says, raising his hands off the table, but still relaxed.

"Sir, a few of the men were wondering if they could get an extended leave, due to the successful mission earlier today."

The Major stares at the first Sergeant for a second, and his eyes dart over to you. He's still smiling a little, but there's a serious side to him that comes through as he talks with them.

"I understand that you were planning on extending their leave to allow them to rest?" he replies to both men.

"Yes, sir." the first replies "if that's alright with you, sir?"

"It's alright, Sergeant." the Major nods again. "There'll will be no issue on my part in regards to that. How many days are you looking at?" he asks, looking between the two Sergeants.

"Around a week" one of them replied boldly "if that's fine with you sir?"

"A week, hm?" he stares at them for a moment. "A week should be sufficient for them to recharge, especially after a mission like this morning. Make it happen."

The Sergeants both nod their heads. "Yes, sir." They both give you a resrpectful salute before turning back around and walking to the larger table.

"Major Egan..." you say mockingly. He was so different when he talked to you.

He glances over at you with a little half grin. "Yeah?" He laid back in his chair as he waits for you to continue.

"And just when I was about to call you John." You say.

He chuckles softly at that. "Go ahead and call me John. If anyone around here is going to call me that, it should be you." he took a sip from his beer.

That gave you a chill down your spine, out of nervousness.

He sees that he has gotten some sort of reacting out of you, but that smile still remains on his face. "Go ahead, call me John."

"Alright, stop that." you chuckle.

"I just want you to call me by my first name. Is that too much to ask?"

You look at him in the eyes for a second, before smiling. "In here?"

"Here" he pauses "or anywhere else if you'd like." He lays back and continues to smile. That damn smile.

As you take in his comment, music starts to blast and all the soldiers rise from their seats and grab the women to dance. The cafe instantly becomes an athmosphere of fun and liveliness.

The Major glances over at the dance floor. "Would you like to join me?"

You nod your head shyly, and take John's hands as he pulls you into the dance floor. The music is a classic swing tune, and the soldiers all seem to know the moves perfectly, moving with rhythm and flow in a very playful mood.

Major Egan seems to be familiar with the dance, and as he moves with you his confidence and skill is undeniable. He leads you easily, gently pulling you around and twirl you in his arms, and all the while, he stays completely focused on keeping you steady, stable.

"You're a good dancer." he tells you, still smiling playfully as he does. He spins you around in his arms and then back around again, pulling you close enough so that his face is inches from yours. He's still maintaining a comfortable distance between you two, but it's evident that he wants to be so much closer.

The music begins to pick up more, and as it does, his moves become just a little bit more intimate and playful. His arms around your waist. It's clear that he's more than just enjoying the dance.

Moving his hands down to your hips as he holds you, not giving you quite as much space as before. He tilts his head and gets closer to your face, maintaining that same playful grin.

"Careful, John." you say over the music, teasing him.

He chuckles at the teasing, but he doesn’t pull away, nor does he stop dancing with you.

His movements get a little bit more playful now, bringing you in even closer.

"John..." you begin.

“Yes?” He stares at you with that same grin on his face, but his eyes have become more intense now, as if wanting to know where this is going.

"Kiss me." you ask.

His eyes remain on you as he stares quietly for a second, but then he finally leans in to meet your offer. There is nothing playful or light-hearted about this exchange. This is a serious and bold moment for the both of you. Major Egan goes completely for it, pressing his lips against yours. And as he does, his hands moves to your hips and pulls you even closer to him. The kiss was slow but eager, like weeks of tension have been building up. Every movement and gesture felt intentional. His hands on your hips feel more intense and firm now. You pulled back and heard the music echo.

The moment of silence was deafening.

The music was no longer all that you could think about. He stares back at you, clearly still wanting more, but he holds back from following through in that very moment.

"Let's go." you say looking up at him.

He doesn't answer, but simply nods his head. He takes your hand in his own, and together, the two of you exit the dance floor and leave the cafe. As soon as you hit the street night air, John grabs your hand and pulls you close again, his lips finding his way to yours. Your bodies are pressed against one another, and the intimacy of the moment is undeniable. His lips find yours again, this time, more eagerly. And he lingers for a second or two, savoring the kiss. This time, it feels like he’s taking it further, as his hands start moving down to your waist more playfully.

“You wanna take me to bed?” You simply say.

He looks back at you, a bit amused at the question, but also somewhat surprised that you had the boldness to suggest that.

He stares for a second, his lips partially parted. “Yeah. I do.”

His answers are blunt and straightforward. But there’s also a confidence and assertiveness about him that makes it very evident that he is completely and totally up for that idea.

You smiled. He smiles back at you, before leaning forward to take your hand again. But this time, he doesn't just hold your hand. He interlocks his fingers with yours, his hand more possessive now as he glances down at your interwined fingers.

He leads you back into the base, guiding you towards his quarters.

The silence between you two is punctuated with little whispers and small talk here and there, but overall, the atmosphere is very much still intimate and playful between the two of you.

You noticed your environment. You've never been in this part of the base before, as it was only reserved for the Majors. It’s clear that this is a very private side of the base, for these higher ranking officers to be able to relax in the company of their women.

As you walk down the corridor, you hear the song My Funny Valentine by Chet Baker echoeing from a hall near by. Major Egan guides you through the hallway, the two of you still following hand in hand, until you both finally arrive at his room. You enter and before you could assimilate the space around you, John grabs your waist from behind, spins you around and you watch him close the door behind him so effortelessly, just before he kisses you gently, but passionately.

Everything around you has become a blur now, but you feel his hand on your back, leading you closer to his bed.

You start to walk backwards as he guided you. You put your arms around his neck, looking for support as he kisses you eagerly now. You jump, clinging into his body, as he grabs the back of your legs with his hands, easily supporting your weight. You moan quietly as he starts to feel your skin under your skirt as he holds you with both his hands.

John exhales soundly. "God..." he trailed off "You even sound beautiful."

His lips attack yours once again, filled with desire. His comment gave you chills all over your body. You felt him sit on the bed, you now straddling his lap. Being this close to him left you intoxicated, even speechless. You had nothing to say to him. Your attempts seemed to only come as careless whispers or moans as he explored your body with his hands.

"John..." you finally spoke.

You felt him smile into the kiss. "Yes?"

You took a second to answer, processing his touch. "Fuck me." You finally said.

He couldn't hide his smile. "I wanted to do this right." he paused as you looked at him. "I wanted to make love to you first."

The smirk plastered on his face made you melt. His eyes glistening with adoration for you.

You retributed the smile. "Sweet John..." you began tracing his features with your fingers. "Please do that."

You saw his smile grow slightly wider just before he closed the gap between both your lips.

He held you closer, his grip on you more firm, but never once hurting you.

“I imagined this moment a lot.” He confessed.

You began to take his uniform off. His shoulders so broad and his arms like two comforters around your torso. He did the same with your clothes but taking his sweet time to take in every little detail about you. The curve of your neck, the shape of your breasts and the freckles on your skin. Most of all he noticed the way your expression changed slightly when you became blushed with arousal.

His pants were bothering you, they were in the way. Your hand flew to his belt, trying to unbuckled it with no success. You saw him chuckle, surprisingly out of nervousness, as he helped you take it out. You always thought the Major John Egan would be swift in these manners, he had experience after all. It was the only thing nurses talked about, how much luck he had with women, inside or outside base. Was it so hard to believe that he could be actually nervous because you were the one unbuttoning his pants and trying to discard them? That was hard to grasp.

John grabbed the low of your back with one arm, supporting the other on the bed to lay you on top of it. He stood sat on the bed even after kicking his uniform pants, watching as you lay naked waiting for him to join you.

His expression was a mix of desire and adoration.

"What is it?" You asked laughing.

He shook his head slightly. "Nothing." he opened his mouth for a second before speaking. "I just think you're the most beautiful thing I've seen walk this earth."

You visibly blushed. How could you not? "You're just saying that because-" he interrumpted you immediately.

"Clothed or not." He said plainly, guessing the rest of your phrase. He looked at your face for a couple of seconds, and you did the same with difficulty. He was so handsome, his hair dischevelled falling perfectly on his forehead.

Not bearing it being away from him one more second, you grabbed his hand and pulled him to lay on top of you, opening your legs, allowing for him to fit in the empty space.

He immediately kissed you, your bodies now glued to each other. You could feel his hard member press against your core. You bent your kness, allowing him access. Your way of letting him know what you wanted.

He positioned himself at your entrance, ever so carefully. He looked at your expression as you gasped slightly, feeling him. He then kissed you gently, but eagerly, as he pushed himself inside you, slowly. Your mouth hang open as you threw your head slightly back on the pillow. He looked down at you, and he swore he could come undone right then and there, watching you in that blissful state.

You felt his lips on your neck, beginning in the low of your jaw until the base of your neck. You exhaled when you felt his touch and he could feel the vibrations of your voice on his lips.

His thrusts were purposely slow so you could adjust to his size. Soon enough he started to go deeper as you dig your nails in his upper back muscles.

"Faster." You pleaded, your voice only coming out as a low whimper.

He could hear it alright. John picked up his pace and you moaned louder as you felt every inch of him molding you.

"You feel so good." you heard him say between grunts into your lips.

You brought your lips to his, kissing him deeply. You broke it to speak finally. "John..." you called out his name. "I'm- I'm close."

"I know sweetheart, I know you are." his voice intoxicated you with desire, you could barely control yourself. "I can feel you closing on me." he continued thrusting in and out at that perfect pace. "You can let go... I wanna see that perfect face when you cum."

That was enough for you to explode. You soon came undone, your voice a higher pitch when you moaned his name a couple of times. You felt his warm release spill inside you. His face inches away from yours, mouths open, exhaling as you both reached your high. The moment that followed seemed like completely silent, only your breaths almost in perfect sync.

He smiled after noticing tears of pleasure in the corner of both your eyes, kissing each one of them away from your face. You both moaned when he removed himself inside you, both still very much overstimulated.

He laid next to you, immediately pushing you into his chest, arms wrapped around you. There were no words needed. You guys didn't have to talk about what happened. It was clear.

A few minutes were passed in silence. You looked at the clock on his wall, which marked almost twelve.

"Shit, I have to go. The night shift." you grabbed a bed sheet instinctively to cover yourself as you sat up, looking for your clothes scattered on his bedroom's floor.

"No." his voice lingered, pulling you back on the bed again. "You're staying here tonight."

You smiled as you looked at his sleepy expression. "I don't think that's up for you to decide. The doctors do our schedules, I have to show up to work."

His voice became deeper with tiredness. "I'm Major Egan. I can make a few calls." He suggested, his voice now more playful. "If you'd like to stay here with me tonight." his demeanour expectant.

You looked at him for a couple of seconds, giving thought to his offer. A smile escaped your lips, as you lay in the bed again, slightly embarrassed.

"They can get by without you one night. I can't." he admitted while wrapping his arms around your torso, setting the covers on top of you both.

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russellsppttemplates · 9 months ago

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It is what it is (Lando Norris)

It takes Lando a while to notice how you always assume he has something else to do whenever you need his help

Note: english is not my first language. It's slightly angsty but has a good ending! ✨️ is this good, is this bad? I'm not too sure

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: alludes to the lack of quality time between a couple

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"Look at you, beautiful girl", Lando twirled you as he stepped inside your bedroom, noticing you were getting ready, "are you going somewhere?".

"Yes, I have an appointment at my optometrist", you smiled, "Anna should be here soon to take me".

"Is it a joint appointment?", Lando squinted.

"No, you muppet", you giggled, "my optometrist needs some exams on my eyes, so I have to today because that's when the ophthalmologist is there and they recommended that I had someone take me there because they want to dilate my pupils and, depending on how it goes, my sight might be a little affected for a couple of hours", you offered, making sure you had everything you needed to take.

"You could've told me and I would've taken you", Lando added, accepting the kiss you placed on his lips.

"I thought you had a meeting this afternoon", you reasoned.

"I do, but I could have moved that around a little and fit everything into the schedule", he reasoned back.

"It's okay, don't worry about that", you mused, "That's Anna - bye, handsome!", you kissed his lips one last time before making your way out and downstairs to meet your friend.

The ride to the office wasn't long, you and Anna taking the time to catch up and learn about the new gossips she had to update on you.

"And how's Lando? I haven't seen him in a while", Anna stated after you sat in the empty waiting room waiting to be called.

"He's been busy lately - he has a meeting today with the team, they're also launching a new collection for Quadrant and they're investing a lot in the social media content, so he's been busy recording a lot of videos and stuff", you offered, never shy whenever it came to talk proudly about your boyfriend's achievements, "and we're also on the countdown for the season to begin, so there's training and meetings and all that".

"Sounds like a busy schedule, no wonder why I haven't seen him - I'm surprised you even see him at all", she joked, grabbing her phone once she remembered she had something to show you.

You were surprised yourself at every bit of time you were able to spend with Lando, as lately it had become near impossible to do so apart from sleeping in the same bed, and even that was rare as he was often travelling between Monaco and England on a weekly basis.

"Ms. Y/N Y/L/N?", the doctor called you before you stepped inside the exam room, starting with the procedures.

The check up itself didn't take long despite the twenty five minute wait for the drops to dilate your pupils, "Don't forget your sunglasses, Y/N!", the secretary reminded you before you stepped outside.

"Thank you, have a good afternoon", you smiled before tapping Anna's shoulder, "Give me your arm so I won't trip", you mumbled.

"Is your sight that bad? The doctor said it should be good enough", Anna worried as she was about to open the door.

"No, it's fine, but if I'm clumsy on any good day, imagine how probable it is for me to fall on some stupid step or raised cobblestone", you argued as you both chuckled, making your way to her car.

Before you went home, your friend stopped by the pharmacy to get you the relief eye drops you'd have to follow the medication regimen with for the next few days, stopping by your favourite bakery so you could enjoy some sweet pastries.

"Can you even read these prescriptions?", Anna asked as she read the regimen you had to comply with.

"Stop making fun of me, you say that as if I'm almost blind", you swatted her arm before reading - trying to - the words, "fucking hell, am I?".

"I can barely read them myself, Y/N! They're so tiny I don't know how they give these to eye patients! Is Lando going to be home soon? That way he can help you with this", she suggested.

"Can I even see the time? At least that", you mumbled as you looked at the large numbers on your phone, "he'll probably take a while still - I can set the alarms on my phone and I'll memorise the different drops", you tapped your head.

Once it was all settled and you assured Anna she was fine to go home and you'd be perfectly well on your own, you walked her to the door before going back to the living room as the sun was no longer shinning outside and you could lay down on the sofa.

The nap you were taking was cut short by the door being shut, making you rub your forehead before an alarm rang. Getting up to head to the bathroom where you kept the supplies, you found Lando taking his trainers off.

"Hi baby, how was your appointment?", he asked as he put the footwear away.

"It was good, need to go and apply my drops", you smiled, turning the light on and grabbing the right box of medication.

"Is that what the alarm was for? I thought we had gotten a new security system I was not aware of", Lando joked as he watched you wash your hands.

"Yes, these instructions are so small to read that Anna thought it would be best to have alarms so I wouldn't mess it up since it's still a little bit blurry", you mused.

"Do you want me to do it?", Lando offered.

"No, it's fine - I'll have to do this for the next 48 hours anyway, so I might as well get used to it", you stopped talking so you could apply them, almost holding your breath until the drops fell.

"My lovie", Lando whispered on your ear once he felt it was okay to approach you, hugging your mid section from behind and kissing your neck as you put your hands on top of his.

You were adding the finishing touches on the present wrapping, the shiny gold string fiddling between your fingers as you tried to tie a bow with it around the paper bag handle, when Lando stepped inside your home office.

"That's looking pretty", he mused as he handed you the tape you were looking for on your desk.

"Thank you", you offered before placing the sticky piece down, "the bag is quite plain and even though the present inside is what will get her attention, it should come in nice wrapping".

"Who is this for?", Lando asked.

"It's for Maya's birthday tonight", you smiled, admiring your work.

"Is that tonight? Fuck, this week has flown by", Lando cursed, "I can't make it - will you let her know, please? I'm sorry I can't go", Lando pouted, "if she has to pay for having made the reservation with me in it, let me know and I'll pay my part!".

"I had already told her I'd be going alone, so she made my reservation without a plus one", you mused, remembering the conversation that came around the time of booking the venue.

Lando was leaving late in the afternoon for a trip with Max, Ria and some of the Quadrant athletes, so like you predicted, he couldn't attend the dinner with you.

"Oh", Lando offered.

"Max told me about your plans and when Maya told me the date, I assumed you wouldn't be able to go", you explained with a tinge of sadness and conformity in your voice.

"Well, it seems you guessed right", Lando chuckled despite the uneasy feeling on his chest.

You seemed sad that he wouldn't be able to join you, but at the same time you didn't? Lando put the topic at the back of his mind for now, heading to the bedroom so he could pack the last minute things.

"I was thinking of wearing this dress", you said once you joined him inside a while later, taking the steamer out of your drawer and setting it up to get out any kinks and wrinkles.

"That one is one of my favourites on you, but then again, they all are, I think", Lando mused, kissing your cheek as you waited for the steamer to be up for use.

"Figured it would be a little cold out tonight, so I chose this one, and that coat over there", you pointed.

"You'll be the most beautiful in that room", your boyfriend complimented, pecking your lips before he let you continue your task.

A couple hours later, Lando found himself restless as he scrolled through the posts and stories of Maya's birthday dinner, "Ria", he called, "what would you think if your partner made plans without you because they figured you wouldn't be able to go anyway?".

Ria exchanged a look with Max and Tara before she spoke, "did they ask me if I could go?", she offered.

"They didn't, but truth be told it's not like you have given them much to believe that you could join them", Lando mumbled the last part.

"I think I'd be a more 'it is what it is' at the start if I saw that it was something out of their reach, but I'm not sure I'd put up with it if it was genuine disinterest from them", Ria explained.

"It's not disinterest! They're just busy and shit at organising their schedules", Lando groaned defensively.

"Okay, okay", Ria calmed the room down once Max squinted his eyes at his bestfriend, "then I guess they would have to make sure they do better", she shrugged, "is everything alright?".

"Yes, yes, sorry for snapping just then", Lando offered her a tight lipped smile.

Everyone carried on with what they were doing before the existencial question, Max seemingly as stuck on it as Lando, "is this an hypothetical thing or are we calling people by their names and working this out?", he whispered to Lando.

"It's fine, just a loose thought I had there", Lando grumbled.

Lina 🤎

Hi, Y/N!

You won't bother, don't worry - I think I miss having someone other than my boyfriend to talk to 😅

Would it be okay if you visited in the afternoon? Our morning routine is still a shitshow (literally and figuratively), so we would appreciate it if you came after her first nap, around two pm?

One of Lando's older couple friends had a baby a couple of weeks ago, and while you were dying to meet their baby boy as soon as he came earthside, you were respectful of their adjustment period so you waited for them to be up for visitors and were ready to comply with whatever schedule they offered.

"It smells nice in here", Lando commented as he stepped inside the kitchen, "what delicious food are you making and can I please have a bite?".

"I made a little tray for us, but the big one is to take for Lina and Theo - I can imagine they don't have much time for cooking, so food is welcomed by them", you smiled, setting the cheese grater down once the measurements were like the recipe stated.

"Are you going to visit today? I have some streaming with Max scheduled for this afternoon", Lando added.

"Lina told me that this afternoon was the only time they could handle some visits - you know how it is with new parents and newborns and all of that -, I didn't want to change their schedule when I have some flexibility with my schedule", you explained, "I'll give the little one a big kiss from you, then?".

"Well, in that case, I should give you two big kisses then - one for you", he kissed your lips once, "and then this one for the little one", he smiled before kissing you again.

You shared lunch in a semi comfortable silence, Lando telling you a bit about the stream they would be doing and you sharing some work updates from your end.

When Lando gets a text in the middle of watching Max send his virtual car to the curb, "who might that be that's brought such a big smile to your face?".

Lando checked the photo to make sure the baby's face was covered despite his friends having already posted him, tuning the phone to show the camera, "Y/N met our friends' baby boy for the first time", Lando gushed.

"That's the little nugget", Max cooed, "she looks very happy with a baby on her arms", he wiggled his eyebrows, "have you met him already?".

"No, I haven't yet! She could only go this afternoon and we had this so...", Lando tsked, admiring the picture one last time before setting the phone back down. The baby was perfectly nestled on your arms, hiding his face on your chest as you looked down at him with a big smile on your face.

Now that he thought about he, he hadn't seen such a big smile in quite some time, and he was really starting to believe he was the reason behind it. He was absent, more than usual and more than the standards of your relationship considering his job.

The air had shifted around you once you came back from meeting Lina's little boy and Lando could only pinpoint it to the subject he thought about earlier.

"Lan, did you hear what I said?", you asked as you showed him another picture of you touching your noise in the little boy's.

"It's just... are we okay, baby?", Lando questioned. Even though it seemed like he was the only one that felt there was something wrong - different at least -, surely you had noticed it too.

"What makes you say that?", you asked.

From the serious tone, your boyfriend mentally slapped himself. Whatever it was, he was on the wrong and you had indeed noticed it too.

"I've noticed you don't ask me for help with stuff like driving you somewhere or accompanying you to places, which is fine if you want to do things on your own, I'm not saying you can't have your own independence, you know I'm not controlling you in that way - obviously! Fuck, I'm rambling! What I mean is, I have been taking notice that you just assume that I'm not available, and your assumptions are not unfounded, and it makes you sad, and I myself am upset that it has reached this point", Lando stated.

"It's not great, I can tell you that, but we knew it would be like this, your schedule is not the regular nine to five - it is what it is, Lan", you argued.

"But it's not, not all the time anyway! I want you to know you can always count on me!", Lando stated, "Y/N, you are one of my priorities and I never want to let you down - I'm going to make sure that from now on I spend more time with you and that I'm by your side a lot more", he rubbed your palm, "damn, I was so stupid, I'm sorry, lovie".

"Lando, these things happen", you attempted, "now we can work on it".

"You can count on me for little and big things in life - you need to go to the post office? I'm there helping you put the letter in the box. Dinner with your friends? I'll find it in the schedule to go and I don't care who I have to tell no to!", he pointed his finger, "I never ever want you to feel like you don't belong in my life or like I don't want to be involved in yours, Y/N - I'm so so so sorry that it took me so long to notice it".

"It's in the past", you smiled, pecking his lips softly, "now, look at this cute little nugget, he's so cute, we have to go there another day so you can meet him, and I think Theo won't mind another traybake".

#lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #lando norris x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lando norris fluff #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 fluff

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iceunhie · 1 year ago

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voicelines about you: as their lover !

featuring: imbibitor lunae, jing yuan, gepard. (+ jingliu and kafka)

notes: headcanons! some might be ooc HELP. i couldn't resist writing for hsr man… also jingliu and kafka sneak bc mmm i love morally questionable women 🤩. gn!reader. reader is not trailblazer. some fluff, some angst (?) kinda. reblogs are very much appreciated!

Imbibitor Lunae (Danheng IL)

About [Name]: They're one of the few people who's never condemned me for Danfeng's sins, nor ever tried to get me to own up to them. Their presence is very comforting to me. My lover? *coughs* Y-yes, they are.

About [Name]: Selfies Aside from March, [Name] always seems to ask me to take photos with their camera. Hm? No, I don't really mind. If it makes them feel happy, then that's enough reason for me to agree.

About [Name]: Photo Albums [Name] made an Express photo album with March yesterday. Yeah, pictures of our adventures and memories, according to them. It's in the Data Bank, so just ask me if you want to take a look at it.

Gepard Landau

About [Name]: [Name] is the most amazing individual I've met. Their determination and their will to pursue their goals to the fullest… I'm proud to call them my lover. Oh, ah… Was that too forward?

About [Name]: Lending a Hand Oftentimes, Serval asks [Name] to help her carry some things for her workshop. Although the times I get to personally help out are rare due to my duties, I still make it a point to support them by asking the Silvermane Guards to keep an eye out for them and help carry my sister's things for them if it's too heavy. Of course. They're always my top priority.

About Serval: Nagging Every time Serval stops by my post, it usually means [Name]'s run into some difficulties, which I try to help them out in. While her telling me about my lover's state is greatly appreciated, she always nags and teases me being a fool for them and… *sigh* No, it's alright, really. I'm thankful that my sister cares about [Name] and goes out of her way to talk to them for me. Still, I do hope her nagging would decrease next time.

Jing Yuan

About [Name]: Hm? [Name]? Yes, they're indeed my lover. Hehe, now that you've brought them up, I should go look for them. I'm afraid I've grown so used to the feeling of laying my head on their lap that no other pillow can suffice. Ah, what a predicament…

About [Name]: Spending Time Together While I do enjoy dozing off, [Name] makes a point to let me rest at a more appropriate place, instead of at the Seat of The Divine Foresight, buried under a mountain of paperwork. Oftentimes, I do as they say, but when I'm not and just craving their presence… Heh, now that's another matter entirely.

(BONUS! - Yanqing's Voiceline) About [Name]: Oh, [Name]? They always give me some extra allowance for buying swords, buying me sweets and food I like… Of course I won't say no to that! Sometimes, them being with me when I'm being scolded by the General for my expenses helps a lot. Probably because they're the only one the General can't say no to.

Jingliu

About [Name]: ….Do you really think you have the right to know about them? This is a warning. Try to ask again and perhaps you'll be faced with the end of my blade as my answer.

About [Name]: Soothed The whispers of the marastruck, succumbing to the Abundance… They are the only one able to calm the storm of my thoughts. For that, I am grateful for their patience and their kindness.

(BONUS 2! - Jing Yuan's Voiceline) About Name: While Master's current state is one of irreparable damage, at the very least… She has someone to hold onto while she grapples with the curse of mara. Even if I don't quite believe she's the Jingliu I knew from before, I know that her feelings for [Name] are sincere. I just hope she doesn't end up hurting them in the process.

Kafka

About [Name]: Aha, now thats a question I didn't expect to hear from you. My lover? Yes, [Name] is that to me. I very much enjoy their love and affection, you know. Even if it isn't on the script, I'd still mention them. Quite romantic of me, no?

About [Name]: Trophy They always, always chide me about me ruining my velvet coats when we finish up a script. What's wrong with a little blood? I keep most of them as trophies. There's one I'm especially fond of, too. They think it's rather embarassing that I keep the coat from the time they got injured on the job. Although the stains have long since turnt black, there's still a faint scent of iron in it. Hm? What do I mean by that? Heh, let's just say I don't take any harm coming to [Name] lightly. While they call it a reminder of their lack of caution, I'd rather call it a little show of my affection~

About [Name]: Destiny's Course Elio refused to tell me about what my future with them would be, saying that the path in that choice is quite difficult to discern, and I think it's for the best. I suppose if [Name] decided to leave the Stellaron Hunters, hm, would locking them up till they can't leave me anymore suffice….? Haha, just kidding. I wouldn't let them leave in the first place.

#dan heng #hsr x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #dan heng x reader #gepard landau #gepard x you #hsr gepard #gepard x reader #gepard x gender neutral reader #hsr kafka #kafka honkai star rail #kafka x reader #jingliu x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan hsr #jing yuan x reader #imbibitor lunae #mhie's spirals

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astralis-ortus · 3 months ago

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spoiled

✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader

— it really is in the little things he does.

w.count → 0.5k genre → slice of life, fluff notes → chan referred to as chris, reader referred to as babe, teeny weenie kith a.n → been feeling sappy whenever i see chan, and what’s the best cure if not to write about it♡ ⋆ if you're enjoying my stories, do send me a ko-fi ⋆ see masterlist

growing up, you never really thought much about relationships.

well, it's not like you had the breathing room to do so anyway—with your parents' strained relationship and the way education had taken over the role as your safe space, the thought about crushes, falling in love, and jumping from one relationship to another like people around your age had resembled more like some faint, annoying whispers from the nether world rather than something you needed to experience as a young adult. instead, your goal revolves simply around graduating, getting a good job, and sticking with that—nothing more, nothing less.

well, that's exactly what you've managed to do so far…

with some minor adjustments.

"babe, do you want—oh, you're about to shower?"

you stopped a few steps from the door of the bathroom, eyes finding your boyfriend's curious pair just beyond the bedroom door while your arms hugged the fresh pair of pyjamas and a fluffy towel chris had bought for you a few months prior, right before your first sleepover at his place.

it still feels wild to you, the way chris just popped into your life one day and somehow managed to stay. the fact that you let him? even wilder. never in a million years would you ever thought you'd walk into your first and somewhat of a serious relationship not long after landing your first actual job, fresh out of university.

"yeah," you nodded, repeatedly blinking your eyes out of habit, "do you need to go? i might take a while since i'm gonna wash my hair."

"no no, i'm good," he replied, no longer looking at you when he turned busy, fumbling away at the cabinet under his kitchen sink, "but wait, there's something i want—found it!"

the curiosity in your eyes turned into sparkles of surprise when you noticed the rather familiar bottle in chris' hand as he heads over in your direction, sweet pair of dimples decorating his proud, cheeky smile.

"i got that body wash you said you wanted to try," handing the green colored bottle, chris lightly scrunched his nose alongside the click of his tongue, "kinda unfortunate—i was going to surprise you with it, but you beat me to the shower."

it's at times like this when you feel like your life in the past year has merely been a series of lucid dreams—when he looked at you with so much tenderness in his eyes, when he treats you like you're his entire world and more, when chris went out of his way just to prove that he meant everything he whispered in your ears between the ungodly hours of the night as he held you close when nightmares crept its long and sharp nails around your neck.

chris' affection still feels like a fever dream, and you don't know if you deserve to be at the receiving end of it at all.

"you're seriously spoiling me way too much, christopher," you finally chirped a response, mirroring your boyfriend's nose scrunch whilst keeping your unspoken worries locked away, "but thank you. i promise i'll use it well."

"i know you will," the dimpled smile made its way back to your boyfriend's features, igniting the familiar fuzzy feeling in the depths of your chest, and its rumble only grew louder when chris leaned in, faint scent of vanilla greeted you as he stole a peck from your lips,

"you know that's why i love spoiling you, right?"

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

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leahrintarou · 4 months ago

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✩₊˚.⋆ BABY NUMBER TWO ! - osamu miya / 10.12 / kinktober

CW: they're parents to a newborn, breeding kink, lactation, she/her pronouns, female anatomy, pet names,

Word Count: 1.4k

Author's Note: welcome to my seventh post of kinktober. i definitely stepped out of my comfort zone to write this so i hope you all enjoy. leave a like and reblog to show support.

osamu and y/n stepped out of the restaurant, the evening air cool and refreshing after the warmth inside. their date night had been perfect—good food, laughter, and moments that reminded them both why they cherished each other so much. as they walked toward the car, osamu slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close with a grin.

“you know, i had a great time tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and playful as he leaned in, brushing his lips against her ear.

y/n smiled, squeezing his hand. “me too. you really know how to spoil me, samu.”

he chuckled, leaning back to look at her, his eyes softening. “only the best for you,” he replied. as they reached the car, he paused, his hands resting lightly on her waist before sliding one hand up to her chest, a slight squeeze to her breast. but as he did, she let out a sharp hiss, pulling away slightly. osamu’s face immediately shifted from playful to concerned, his hand retracting as he looked at y/n with worry. “sorry, did that hurt?” he asked, searching her expression.

y/n gave him a small smile, swiping her hand down her arm as she nodded. “yeah, a little. i think i might be sore,” she explained, trying to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault. he reached out, gently cupping her face with his hands. “we don’t have to do anything tonight if you’re not feeling up to it,” he said softly, his thumb tracing light circles on her cheek. “i just want you to be comfortable.”

she leaned into his touch, appreciating his gentleness and understanding. “thanks, samu,” she replied, taking his hand in hers. “my pump broke this morning and kaori has already been fed.” that was the name of their three month newborn little girl. "should we pick up a new one before we go home?"

"no, all the shops are close by now. I'll figure it out." she gave him a tired smile and he osamu gave her a wary look. "im fine, i promise." she reassured. he nodded, voice still sounding unconvinced.

"okay, baby."

—

“thanks for watching her for us.” y/n said to both atsumu and sakusa. they insisted on watching kaori so that she and osamu could have some sort of break. They were new parents so to say it was stressful was an understatement. “anytime.” as they walked through the front door, closing it behind them, y/n turned to same, letting out a heavy sigh. “Going to take a warm shower to try and help these.” she said, wrapping her arms around herself.

Samu nodded, following her down the hallway and to their bedroom. He started to get undressed and a few seconds later, he heard the sound of the shower running. He felt bad for the pain that y/n was currently experiencing, but he also couldn't help the way his mind trailed off to other things. Her breasts were obviously larger and he could tell as much due to the low neckline of the dress she wore.

He wanted to believe that it was just an innocent concern, but his thoughts of impurity drove him to take careful steps towards the bathroom. The door was left ajar so he only had to push it slightly for it to swing open. Behind the frosted glass of their shower door, he saw the silhouette of y/n standing behind it, under the showerhead and the steem from the heated water poured from the cracks of the door.

He was only in his briefs, but he quickly discarded them and entered the shower as need enveloped his being. “Feeling better, baby?” he questioned. y/n wasn't startled by his presence and osamu figured that she might've noticed him slip in. she leaned her back against his chest as her fingers massaged circles to the top area of her breasts. The white liquid trailed down her body as the water washed it down to the drain. Osamu pressed himself closer against her back, his hands coming around her to replace her own massaging fingers.

A soft moan fell from her lips, the relief almost immediate. He continued this action for as long as y/n needed but she eventually turned around to face him. He gave her a questioning look and y/ only gave him a tired smile. It’s been a long day and this process of winding down felt the most enjoyable.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to her neck, the water from the shower wetting his hair in the process. y/n’s fingers threaded through the wet strands and she soon felt the warm muscle of his tongue place a stripe against her collar bone. He moved down, his kisses now being placed where his fingers once resided just a few seconds ago when he was aiding her to relieve the pain. She let out a moan of his name and he couldn't ignore the way his length twitched at the sound.

His tongue ran a stripe over her raised nipple and a whimper fell past her lips. “Sensitive?” he questioned, his breath fanning over that very area. “More than usual, yeah.” she confirmed. With that information, his lips latched around her nipple as his tongue ran a circle around it. y/n’s hand tightened in his hair, pulling slightly when he continued unmerciless. His free hand traveled between her thighs, slipping between them as the pad of his digit circled her bud.

She let out a pleasurable cry at the lustful act and osamu couldn't help it, his erection grew by the second. “feeling okay, baby? If it hurts, tell me to stop, okay?” she nodded, her head thrown back just a bit as she moved to press her pack against the cold tiled walls. “Samu, I want you inside me.”

“I will be. It’s almost starting to hurt if I'm not.”

A small smile fell onto her lips, but they parted as a moan fell past them just a second later. He removed his hand from her sex, his hand gripping his length as he rubbed the tip against her bud. With the pure memory of y/n’s body, he was able to find her entrance without looking, seeming too busy with his lips and tongue teasing her nipple. “I want to see you all round with my baby again.” he muttered, his breath fanning her neck as he slowly moved back up towards the shell of her ear. “Can we make it happen, baby?” he questioned. His eyes low as he watched her nod. “I’d have to fill you more than once then huh?”

“Yeah, I want it so bad, samu.”

“How many times? You think three’s enough?” he questioned. His length finally slipped past her entrance and osamu let out a heavy moan. The steam from the shower made his view of his surroundings hazy, but in one swift movement he gripped the underside of her thighs, making her wrap her legs around his hips. Her chest was pressed against his own and osamu trapped her between himself and the cold tiled walls before moving his hips.

His breaths were long, drugged in a tempo of overbearing bliss. She clenched around him, tightening around his legend as the warmth of her walls took him in without reluctance. Their moans bounced off of the walls of tile and the door of glass, the steam fogging the frosted glass even more. “Spread wider for me, pretty girl.” he hated the fact that he was already reaching his limit. it hadn't even been a full five minutes, but it was with y/n and anything that had to do with her could drive him over the edge in less than a few seconds.

All night, the thoughts kept crossing his mind but he wanted y/n to be able to relax, not tire her out with his erotic thoughts and actions. It was clear she felt the same, but her body couldn't keep up. He held her tightly against him, her only priority being to feel nothing but pleasure. “Samu, come in me please.”

“What do you think we're doing this for, baby?”

She could only hum against him and with only one last stroke, ribbons of white coated the inside of y/n’s sex, and leaked down his length, the water washing it down the drain. He moaned directly next to y/n’s ear and she did the same for him, the sounds of each other only aiding them in enjoying that moment of pure bliss.

“That was one. Two more to go.”

♤ likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

Taglist: @eclecticfirewitxh @nemoo888 @ririkavitanitraxova02 @beckxisxinxlovexwithxjin @yourefavsakura @karebear5118 @jays-adventure3 @flowerpjimin @thiisisntlovely @kawaiiisis @viviennevianna @slvttics @elmtree12 @ivydoesit23 @jellibean2018 @peehall @pestlaege @junabuggy @hyesworld @hime-honne @kuroaka @kimmi-iii @elssero @lxst-in-mxrdxrlxnd @littlemissfix-itfic @mythraendir @mapletress @todobrosky @amajikisbabygirl @sanriovin @daydreamteardrop @tsukishimasslut @tenwt @meowmeowmau @icyhottodo178 @lightaflaem @insaneclown0408 @raggedypansexual @satorusluvrgirl @staygoldsquatchling02 @beckxisxinxlovexwithxjin @luvvmae @anastasiatheloveofyourlife @satoruyes

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agi-ppangx · 5 months ago

Text

love song (bang chan x gn!reader)

angst with a fluffy ending, both chan and reader are producers/songwriters, chan is kinda an asshole for a while but he quickly apologises, not proofread; 1,3k words

author's note: a little fic requested by a lovely anon !! i kinda wrote it in one go and didnt have time to properly correct the mistakes so i apologise for typos and any other stuff >< please remember that feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated🫶🏽

“time for a break,” you announced with a smile as you entered your little homemade studio holding two bags. “i got us some food and coffee.”

chan looked up at you from his laptop and mirrored your smile, taking both bags from you with a soft thank you. you sat down on the couch with a loud huff and chan handed you your food.

“you wanna listen to the song? i made a few touch ups to that part we were struggling with,” he asked, sipping on his americano and you nodded, mouth full of the pasta.

as soon as chan played the song you closed your eyes, letting yourself be completely engulfed by the music.

it was a rather upbeat melody, but when you were writing the lyrics a while ago you tried to make it really emotional and, what’s most important, true. some might think it’s cliché to constantly write songs about your lover, but it comes naturally to you. the emotions you pour into the lyrics, the memories and wishes, everything is about you and chan. and even as you sell your songs to various artists, you always know exactly who it’s about when they sing it.

you snapped your eyes open around the middle of the song as one fragment of a few seconds did not sound as it should.

“wait, let me listen to it again” you said with a frown and he wordlessly rewinded the song for a few seconds. “why does it sound so weird?” you mumbled to yourself as that one part was just not right. you took a sip of coffee from your cup, trying to understand what changed about the song. you two were talking about that part a few days before and…

“channie, did you change the melody?” you asked in disbelief. he turned around to look at you, but your irritated expression didn’t make any impression on him.

“yeah, it sounds better now, right?” you huffed loudly, getting up from your place on the couch to walk your anger away.

“i told you i want this part to sound specifically as it did before! why would you change it? we talked about it,” you let out, your voice getting louder with each word spoken.

“relax, baby, it’s not a big deal,” he explained calmly, trying to reach for your hand, but you were quicker, taking it away and putting it in the pocket of his hoodie that you were wearing.

“no, it’s the fact that it’s the first time we finally work together and you already don’t listen to my advice.”

it was chan’s turn to huff, he was visibly getting annoyed by your words. “this wouldn’t be a problem if you wouldn’t make one of it.”

“this wouldn’t be a problem if you wouldn’t ignore my opinion.”

“alright, yn, let’s just stop this. i’m getting tired of this conversation,” he said, turning around and putting his headphones on, pretending to work on some other track just so you wouldn’t bother him anymore.

you stood in the room for a while longer, staring at chan in pure shock. he may have pretended to be busy, but as you finally decided to leave the studio he noticed how you wiped your face and he sure heard the loud thud the door made as you slammed them. you went straight to your bedroom, wrapping yourself in the blanket and trying to stifle your sobs.

hours passed as you finally sat up, grabbing your notebook to write some ideas for new songs. your eyes were still puffy as you scribbled down random words and rhymes, desperately trying to take off your mind from the argument, but no matter how hard you tried the situation came back to you like a boomerang. you weren’t sure if chan did it purposely or if he simply forgot about your conversation - you knew he was busy, so it might’ve slipped out of his mind. but it didn’t change the fact that it hurt you.

both of you dreamed of working together for a long time - someone might think that you two could easily just write some songs for each other in your home studio. isn’t that enough? people say, but you always say that it’s different to play around on a saturday evening with a glass of wine and to write and produce tracks for other artists. it is a big deal to you - the fact that the song you both worked on will be featured on another artist’s album, heard by thousands, if not millions of people, and they all will hear about your love for chan and only you will know who it’s about.

a soft knock on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. you put down the notebook, keeping a firm look on chan as he quietly closed the door behind him. he was already in his pyjamas, ready to sleep, and you fought the urge to send him to sleep on the couch.

“you still mad?” he asked with hesitation dripping down his voice. you didn’t say anything, waiting for him to say something other than the obvious. “listen, i feel really bad.”

“as you should.”

he sighed, scratching the back of his head. “i know. but i don’t wanna go to sleep without talking.” he said desperately, taking a few steps onward and carefully sitting on the other side of the bed.

you exhaled loudly. you also didn’t want to leave it like this. “it really hurt me, y’know?” you started, feeling as the tears started to well up in your eyes. “we literally talked about the song a few days ago and i told you how i want that particular fragment to sound like and you agreed. then why-” your voice broke a little as a few tears ran down your cheeks. chan was quick to wipe them off and this time you didn’t stray from his touch. “-why would you change it now? i just don’t understand.”

chan took a moment to think before he spoke again. “i have nothing to say in my defence,” he started quietly. “i was just bored yesterday when i couldn’t sleep and decided to change a few things about the song and i just forgot to leave that part be. i’m so sorry, baby, i know i shouldn’t have behaved like that earlier, i don’t know what had gotten into myself,” he confessed, his cheeks now cherry red as shame filled his body. he didn’t look at you, he couldn’t, because he knew he fucked up.

“let that be your first warning,” you said firmly after what felt like eternity to chan. “i’m not that experienced as you when it comes to producing songs, but i would really appreciate you actually listening to my ideas. just talk to me whenever you want to make changes like that, okay?” chan nodded quickly.

“i will. i’m really sorry, my baby.”

“i know you are.”

“are we okay now?” he asked hesitantly.

“yeah, we are.” you smiled softly as chan’s body visibly relaxed at your words. “but i’m still hurt though.”

“will a kiss make it better?” he proposed, a bit bolder now as the atmosphere around you wasn’t so tense anymore. you didn’t respond, leaning over to place a peck on his lips with a smile.

“maybe a little bit,” you giggled. chan captured your face in his hands, looking you deeply in the eyes.

“by the way i changed that part,” he confessed. “it sounds exactly how you wanted it to.”

you grinned, whispering a soft thank you, and chan finally kissed you, making the world around you disappear. you didn’t know how long it was before you finally broke the kiss, panting heavily.

that night you held him in your arms, letting him rest his head on your chest so he could hear your heartbeat and to his surprise it was his favourite love song that you ever created.

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#skz #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids headcanons #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz au #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #skz bang chan #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #bang chan stray kids #bang chan angst #bang chan imagines #bang chan headcanons #bang chan scenarios

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mattybsgroupie · 7 months ago

Text

— sleepover ★ matt sturniolo

— CONTENTS: established relationship; handjob (m receiving); thigh riding (f); p in v; creampie; mommy kink; sub!matt

— NOTES: i wrote two dom!matt fics in a row i do not recognize myself. back to the sub!matt agenda, somebody has got to do it, i am the chosen one!!! (please it’s a trump meme) this is a silly little one i wrote cuz i’ve been dreaming some weird things these last few days and i’d very much like to fuck matt afterwards. not proofread but hope you enjoy it. always so thankful for every like, comment, reblog and follow, love y’all sm ♡ btw next week i might post a chris request i got idkkk

i woke up out of breath, sweat dripping from my forehead as i tried to calm down. it was a nightmare - a terrible one, where i no longer had matt and no matter how much i’d scream, my voice wouldn’t come out. my phone buzzed, the screen lighting up the ceiling and part of my room. it was 3am.

i reached for the nightstand, first taking a sip of water and then grabbing my cellphone, checking my notifications. i had one missed call from matt and two other messages, which only read “babe, you up?”

i felt as the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders, my chest gradually lowering as i got more relaxed. i smiled and speed dialed the first number on my list.

“why are you awake!” matt picked up in a surprised tone, not really waiting for my answer. “i just texted you, did you feel it coming or something?” he giggled.

“hi, babe” i said, my voice still shaky. “i just woke up, actually”

“what happened?” matt asked me once again, clearly concerned as he heard how i sounded. i gulped and gave a few taps on my chest as i rested my back on the headboard. “what is it, hm? bad dream?”

“uhum” i nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. he knew i’d soon be curled up between the sheets, trying to fall asleep again. “what about you babe? can't sleep?” i asked, already knowing the response.

matt sighed and i could picture him running his fingers through his hair, trying to not upset me “anxious”.

“i’m sorry to hear that, matty” i pouted from the other side of the screen. “do you wanna facetime?” i suggested what we had done plenty of times. we’d be facing each other, talking nonsense until one of us fall asleep - of course, when things didn’t take a turn to either matt’s or my own horniness.

“actually… was thinking about coming over” i smiled, but he couldn’t see it. he always made me feel like a teenage girl, changing the reason of my nervousness to something silly, like him coming over.

“no way, you’re not getting the road right now” i said, playing hard to get.

“what?” matt sounded confused. “why not?!”

“it’s late and i worry about you” i responded. “don’t you have something schedule for tomorrow?”

“i don’t give a fuck” matt said, “i wanna be with you right now, do you wanna be with me?” i nodded and as if he could see me from there, he continued. “please, mommy?”

“i’m waiting!” i jokingly hang up on him after gasping by the nickname, as if it was too bold of him to call me that.

i heard three knocks on my bedroom door and didn’t bother getting up. i rolled myself on the bed, waiting for him to join me.

“did i take too long?” matt asked, biggest smile on his face. he locked the door and quickly came next to me, lying down by my side.

“yeah, you know mommy doesn’t like to wait” matt widened his eyes, gulping at my words, realizing what he had done over the phone.

“i just said that so you could let me come over” he said, acting tough as he rolled his eyes before resting his head above my chest, snuggling into me.

“oh, that’s too bad” i pouted, my fingers running through his hair. “you got me all worked up…”

matt quickly raised his head, blue eyes staring at me in surprise, grin growing on his face. “did i? really?”

“of course, my good boy always gets me going” i teased, matt’s cheeks turning red. “why? you came here to sleep?”

“i mean” he started, grabbing my waist, turning my body over and changing our positions. he was now under me, his hands resting on my hips while i adjusted myself in order to get comfortable on his lap. “not anymore”.

matt leaned in for a kiss, holding the back of my head and bringing us closer. i could feel his beard slightly tickling my face as he deepened the pressure of his lips against mine, silently asking to go further by sticking his tongue and teasing me. i opened my mouth and matt’s tongue quickly slid in, the wet sounds taking over my darkened room.

one of matt's hand moved to my breasts, massaging it over the shirt. i gasped for the sudden contact, pulling away from the kiss, which led him to go to my neck instead. he trailed his lips down, altering between biting and licking my skin. my hands went to his hair once again, tangling my fingers on his curls.

matt lowered his head and stopped right above my nipple before looking at me with needy puppy eyes. i nodded vigorously, but instead of removing my shirt, matt hid his face underneath it, streching the cloth in order to fit inside. i felt his wet tongue teasing my nub and since i could no longer pull his hair, i rested my hands on his bare thighs. as matt started to swril his tongue, i threw my head back and couldn't help but start to move my hips forward, trying to get some friction to my already wet pussy.

i let out a moan when his free went to my other boob, his thumb circling the hardened nub that poked through the shirt. i wanted to look at him - wanted to see how his beard looked like rubbing against my skin, which color the hickeys he left would be, how much would the saliva run down my torso.

with my eyes closed and feeling matt sucking my tits, i tried to touch the hem of my shirt in order to remove it, i couldn't stand one more second without looking at his eyes again - however, my palm met something harder, covered by a soft fabric. i groped his shaft and received a muffled moan from matt, still busy in my tits. now with my eyes open i could finally take my clothes off, revealing matt with his messy hair, beard wet from rubbing his face against his own kisses, lips swollen.

“look at me baby” i called and carressed his cheek, “you said you wanted to sleepover and now look at you, already a mess for mommy...”

“i'm s-sorry, mommy” he started, “can't help it, you taste so good”.

“yeah? did you miss me?” i teased, starting to drag myself over his thigh once again. “we saw each other two days ago”

“it's too much” matt complained, hands going to my hips, helping me set a proper pace. “needy again”, he glanced at tent on his shorts, where my palm rested.

“is mommy's baby needy?” i almost mocked him and he nodded pathetically, but still not letting me take full control as he started to pump his legs' muscles, making my pussy clench. i opened my mouth, but nothing came out of it. matt's grip tighetned and he forced my body down, completely leading my movements.

“mommy seems needy as well” matt spoke, smashing his lips against mine. i let out a frustrated whine, wanting to feel more - i needed him inside of me. “aren't you?”

“yes- fuck” i said, trying to come back to my senses regain control of the situation “babe, be a good boy for me hm?"”

when i finally stroked matt's boner, his hands rapdly went to my ass, both palms groping it harshly as i entered inside his pants. i wrapped my fingers around his aching cock, and being the good boy he was, matt lifted up his hips, allowing me to pull down his shorts and reveal his hardened dick. he touched my waistband in response, silently asking if he could do the same to me. i mimicked his moves, letting the fabric slide down my legs.

“thought i had told you to not wear panties to bed” he said, pulling the strings of my underwear. “isn't mommy supposed to be good as well?” matt was driving me crazy with all the teasing.

i suddenly started to move my fist up and down, quickly jerking him off. matt was used with me starting slow and building up his excitement until he climaxed. but tonight, it didn't seem like he wanted to be treated kindly. matt threw his head back and closed his eyes, groaning loudly “f-fuck!”

i brushed my thumb over his tip, matt’s body immediately reacting, jointing his hips forward into my fist. i dragged my finger on his slit as matt’s nails dig into my skin, spreading the pre-cum down his shaft. his breathing got heavier, chest rising and falling quickly while he bit every inch of skin he could reach.

“not talking back anymore?” i asked, gradually stopping my motions, receiving a groan in response.

“mommy, don’t be mean” he pleaded as his sneaky fingers made their way to my entrance, pulling my panties to the side. he kissed my neck, making my eyes roll as i melted into his touch.

“matthew” i caught his attention since i didn’t really use his full name often. “stopping teasing so fucking much and just fucking say it”. he widened his eyes before letting the grin grow wide on his face.

“please, please, please” he said, “ride me, momma”i immediately got out of his thigh, adjusting myself to be in between his legs. i could feel matt’s cock being lazily dragged against my now bare pussy, panties removed as soon as i got up.

i lowered myself on his shaft, nearing my throbbing cunt to his leaking tip. both of my hands went to matt’s shoulders, looking for balance as his grabbed my hips, helping me fully sit on his length. matt’s dick was huge, stretching my walls as he hid his face on the crook of my neck, tickling beard making me giggle as i tried to adjust myself to his size.

“wasn’t so hard, was it?” i asked, getting comfortable to move my hips up. as i started riding, matt wouldn’t say a word, only muffling moans in my ear. he denied with his head, whining as i fastened my pace.

“c-close” he said, gripping tighter. “mommy- fuck”

“hold for me baby” i spoke, already out of breath, bouncing harder on his dick. matt decided to stick his face on my boobs and dragged his tongue along my skin, biting my nipple and holding me by my waist, jointing his hips forward in order to reach his high quicker.

“yes baby, just like that” i praised, matt now pounding mindlessly into me. “good boy, good boy” and that’s what took for him to snap, groaning loudly as his cock twitched and he released the knot on his lower belly, spurts of his warm cum filling my insides.

his spasms brought me closer to the edge, but i wouldn’t stop riding him. i kept on bouncing on his cock, now in search of my own climax. “mommy- mommy, fuck!” matt cried from the overstimulation. his whimpers got louder and so did my moans as my orgasm washed over me, mouth hanging open with my trembling body as i came over matt’s shaft.

i was too tired to remove myself, letting my weight fall over him. matt rolled us over, both of us laying in my bed. he turned to the side and pulled out, the mix of our realeases running down my legs and staining my sheets. matt let out a chuckle as he wrapped his arms around me, bringing me closer to his chest.

“should we sleep now?” i asked, running my fingers through his tummy.

“kid” he called, pointing to my bedroom widow. “the sun is already up” he spoke - as if this was gonna stop us from sleeping till noon. “but that’s why i came here, right? sleepover”

“of course, you’re always so clever” i rolled my eyes and giggled, allowing my body to relax next to his. i closed my eyes and knew that, while matt was around, the bad dreams would no longer come.

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wwinterwitch · 2 years ago

Text

right person, all the wrong times - anthony bridgerton

summary: you and anthony have been in love with one another from the moment you met, but it seems as though nothing will ever happen between you. after you catch the attention of another gentleman, he realizes perhaps it's time to finally do something about his feelings pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader word count: 7.3K tags: mutual pining, best friends to lovers, angst and fluff, period-typical topics (marriage is everything, gender roles, all that stuff), daphne being match maker as always, kissing, it gets briefly suggestive like once, if i skipped anything please let me know. note: i started this show two days ago and i'm already halfway through season 2. i couldn't hold myself from writing whatever this is and i thought i'll share since it's the longest fic i've ever written. english is not my first language so writing in a way that resembles the show was a whole challenge for me!

a reblog and/or comment really helps me out as a content creator so thank you in advance if you take the time to do either!

all masterlists | buy me a coffee

You and Anthony have been best friends for years now. Even when he's a few years older than you, the two of you became inseparable shortly after knowing one another. No one seems to know or understand you quite like he does, and you've become the person he always turns to when he needs someone.

It happened just a few months after you were introduced into society. You were lucky to bump into him that night in Ms. Danbury's ballroom, and after repeated apologies and quick introductions, you stayed with him for the rest of the event.

Your families were excited to see the two of you talking, already picturing the moment when he shows up to your house and asks for your hand in marriage. However, as time passed, it was evident for everyone that nothing was ever going to happen.

And as embarrassing as it is to admit, you were just as disappointed to realize Anthony considered you to be just a friend. From day one, you were absolutely captivated by him, and you truly thought he was as interested as you were. Unfortunately, it seems as though your feelings have never been –and never will be– reciprocated.

Of course, you never let that stop you from trying to find in others what you so effortlessly found in Anthony from the moment you laid eyes on him. It hasn't been easy, but you continue to look for that special someone.

Despite everyone knowing about your proximity to the Viscount, a fair share of suitors were always there available for you. Some move past the mere privilege of dancing with you if they prove to be interesting enough, but none of them have made it far enough.

Perhaps the search would be easier if you weren't deeply in love with your best friend, but there's no way you'll ever be able to control how you feel. You can't control the butterflies in your stomach when you notice him approaching you, or how it seems as though everyone around disappears when you two are together.

Anthony doesn't contribute to making your situation any easier. His friendship is one of the greatest gifts you've ever received, but it has caused you a great deal of pain and confusion. Even when he's nothing but your friend– even when he has confided in you many times that marriage is the last thing on his mind, you can't help but notice certain things. Certain gestures, certain stares...he has surely given you reasons to believe your feelings might be reciprocated.

One of the many things he does that inevitably lifts your hopes up is the fact that he absolutely despises every possible suitor you've ever had. Whether he claims to know them and they're the worst person imaginable, or he starts speculating based on his own prejudices, it seems as though no man is worthy of you in Anthony's eyes. You've always wondered why he's so adamant about that claim.

"There you are!" Daphne excitedly greeted you one evening at yet another social gathering. "I was afraid I'd miss the chance to spend even a moment with you tonight, considering how busy you seem to be with all your suitors," she smiles, quickly glancing across the room.

"Well, I could say the same thing. I've seen you dance for most of the night," you remark. "I bet your brother is furious."

"Oh, believe me, he is! But I'm not the only one he's concerned about," her smile only grows after her insinuation. It's no secret that Daphne has always hoped for you to officially join their family, as she's convinced her brother is ridiculously in love with you. "I was only able to escape from him because he couldn't stop telling Benedict just how awful the men you were dancing or talking to are."

"He does have that habit, yes. Poor Benedict," you joke, turning around to spot the two brothers still talking.

Before Daphne could say a thing, a man approached the two of you. As you laid eyes on him, you recognized him as the first gentleman you had a dance with tonight. Both of you smiled at him as he extended his hand your way. "May I have another dance with you, my lady?"

You look at Daphne, who quickly takes a step back to let you know you can go. He gently grabs your hand once you've accepted his invitation, guiding you to the dance floor.

Mr. Demrick is a fine gentleman. He's been nothing but kind, charming and attentive, not to mention he's ridiculously handsome. This isn't the first evening you two have crossed paths, having the honor of dancing a few times before. He seems to have a strong interest in you. Your Mama has expressed many times that it's a matter of time before he's asking for your hand.

You do, however, notice a big flaw in this seemingly perfect man. He's no Anthony Bridgerton.

And speaking of, as you're dancing with Mr. Demrick's hand on your back and the other gently holding one of your own, you can't help but notice Anthony exactly where he once was. He's already looking your way and even from a distance you notice he's as stiff as ever, arms crossed, muttering things to Benedict.

It leaves you to wonder once again if he's being protective over his friend or if there's a deeper meaning to his apparent disgust for all the men that have ever shown interest in you.

After that night, Mr. Demrick's interest in you was more evident than ever. All Daphne could talk about with Lady Bridgerton and your Mama during supper the next day was the different bouquet of flowers he sent you and how breathtakingly beautiful they were.

"Needless to say, I'm very happy for you," Daphne seems to be finished with her talk about the flowers, turning to look at you from across the table. "You two make a very lovely match."

"No doubt you'll be very happy with such a nice and handsome gentleman for a husband," Lady Bridgerton agrees.

Everyone quickly turns to look at Anthony when he lets out a quick chuckle, looking down at his food and pretending he was barely listening.

"Something wrong, Anthony?" Lady Bridgerton asks shortly after with a rather serious tone.

He finally looks up, smiling at his mother. "Not at all. Please, continue with your...delightful chat."

You glared at him and despite you trying to ignore it, something deep within you made it impossible not to say something else regarding Mr. Demrick just to upset Anthony further. "He has invited my family to a picnic to meet his own," you say, noticing the way your best friend immediately turns to look at you with a horrified expression.

"We're really looking forward to that," your mother chimes in, trying to keep the conversation going after Anthony's interruption.

"Cheers to that!" Eloise exclaimed ironically, and you noticed she was looking directly at her eldest brother. "A man brave enough to pursue the heart of a lady is always a reason to celebrate, right?"

Now it was Colin and Benedict the ones who couldn't hold back their laughter after noticing their brother's reaction to that comment.

"What's so funny?" Hyacinth asks, looking impossibly confused.

Eloise's comment evidently made everything a lot worse. Little Gregory joins his sister in their inquiry to know what was going on, until Lady Bridgerton ordered them to stay quiet.

You didn't like El's insinuation one bit, as it does nothing to help with your delusions, but at least you were appreciative of the fact that she was willing to be with you on this one despite her disgust towards the whole idea of marriage and the position a woman is put in because of it. Perhaps she's willing to overlook that detail for the sake of upsetting one of her siblings.

As soon as dinner was over, Anthony offered to accompany you and your mother outside to your carriage. You didn't protest, and quickly calmed Daphne and Lady Bridgertons worries after they started apologizing fervently for his behavior during the evening.

Anthony immediately knew you were upset. It was evident in the way you walked in complete silence without acknowledging he was there next to you.

"Can I have a word with you before you leave?" Anthony asks as soon as the three of you are outside the Bridgerton home.

"Is it okay? If you're too tired we can leave right away."

"It's perfectly fine, dear. I'll wait in the carriage," your Mama replies. "Thank you, Lord Bridgerton, but there's no need," she quickly added when Anthony offered his arm to help her walk down the steps of the entrance. "Please reiterate my gratitude to my dear Violet for having us today."

"Of course," he nodded, returning your Mama's smile. Even when he behaves rather poorly, your mother absolutely adores him. It warms your heart to see how good they get along.

Your Mama walks to the carriage, leaving you and Anthony alone. "I apologize for my behavior tonight."

"I don't think your apologies are sincere."

"I don't know what else do you expect, if I'm being honest," he replies, and immediately knows he has to say something because of your reaction to that comment. "That man is not a good match for you. He's not on your level, and I'm quite certain that he won't be able to make you happy."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I know you. And I know when someone is not right for you."

You scoffed. "No one ever seems to be good enough for me."

Anthony nodded. "Yes, exactly."

"Can't you just be happy for me? Or at least pretend that you are?" you ask, exasperated. It's one thing that he doesn't reciprocate your feelings, but to stand here and claim to be your best friend when he acts like this is something entirely different. Something you can't and won't stand for. "I don't understand why you have to try to ruin every chance I get to find someone."

"Because," he says sternly, as if it was obvious. But is it really that obvious? Is it obvious to you, or even to him?

A dim light of hope shines through in the depths of your heart, knowing very well how dangerous that has been in the past. "Because what?"

He stood there in front of you, looking rather troubled. You notice the way he hesitates and for a moment you almost could've sworn he wanted to take a step closer to you.

But that never happened, and instead all you got was a "because you're my best friend, and I care about you," from him. The same thing you've heard over and over. That godforsaken phrase that has shattered your heart into million pieces over the years.

You try to hide your disappointment, looking up at him with a stern glance. "If I'm truly your best friend, you'd support my decisions instead of brutally questioning them like you always do."

With that said, you didn't wait for any sort of answer as you quickly walked towards your carriage, barely acknowledging your driver and your mother as you headed back home.

Anthony watches as you walk away, once again feeling like a complete fool for not saying something else. For not daring to take that extra step and reveal the real reason why he won't accept anyone else as your husband. It's quite simple, really. The real reason is that he wants to be the one you marry.

But he didn't say anything yet again, and all that's left for him to do is go back inside his house to listen to Eloise and Daphne calling him a fool while the rest agree with them. He doesn't say much about their claims, as they couldn't possibly be more true.

This is exactly what he deserves for acting so cowardly. He gets shamed by his siblings for not doing something about his feelings while you go home, probably thinking about that absurd picnic with Mr. Demrick until you go to sleep.

Next day, you try to forget all about Anthony Bridgerton and focus on your date with Mr. Demrick. Your families were sitting around all together while he asked if you would like to take a walk with him.

He's lovely. Offering his arm for you, complimenting you every chance he gets, making you laugh with his endless anecdotes and quick remarks. He's everything you should need, yet your mind wanders back to your best friend. You can't help it. All you want is for him to be the one kissing your hand and telling you you're the most captivating sight of all.

Your Mama could barely hold her excitement when she read what Lady Whistledown had to say about you and Mr. Demrick after the families were seen spending time together. "The union of the season", she called it. And it shouldn't come as a surprise, as both of you come from wealthy and respected families. It's evident everyone takes a great interest in the possible union.

Still, you were very much intimidated by it, as all eyes will be on you until there's news about an engagement.

And just as you predicted, every lady turned to look at you as you went to visit the modist for a new dress for the next ball. You must look absolutely perfect to earn the approval of everyone and capture Mr. Demrick's heart for good.

At that point, the realization finally started to settle. You're soon becoming a wife, moving to your own home and starting a family. And all of that with a man that you respect and care for, but are incapable of loving.

But perhaps this arrangement will make your feelings for Anthony become nothing but a memory. A memory you won't even care to think about when you have such a wonderful husband by your side.

Days passed and Mr. Demrick continued to send all sorts of gifts to your house. You made the choice of inviting him over so the two of you could spend more time together before the next ball. He was sitting on a couch with your mother while you played the piano for them.

"That was certainly a very beautiful performance," he says once you're done playing. "And you said you composed that yourself?"

"Indeed. I like spending my days playing the piano," you smile brightly.

The entire reunion was quickly ruined when someone burst inside the room. You turn around in your seat to find Anthony standing there, barging in completely unannounced and unexpectedly. It was unclear to you why you felt the need to stand up from your seat to greet him but you did, feeling your heart rapidly beating in your chest at the sight of him.

Oh, how badly you've missed him.

"What are you doing here, Anthony?" you ask, immediately remembering your soon-to-be fiancée and your mother are also in the room. "I'm afraid I'm with a guest right now. Whatever it is, it'll have to wait, my lord."

You never call him that, ever. It was evident by his reaction that he absolutely hated the fact that you refer to him as such.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to disrupt, but I believe it's an urgent matter."

"My lord, I–"

"I must insist," he quickly cuts you off, looking rather desperate.

You try to come up with something to say, knowing you should stand your ground and make him leave, but you were so happy to be in his presence again that the feelings completely clouded your judgment.

"No worries, my lady," you hear Mr. Demrick say, standing up from his seat and sending you a reassuring smile. "I'm sure whatever Lord Bridgerton is here for requires your immediate attention, given his insistence," he added shortly after, giving Anthony a not so friendly look. "I'm sure we can visit the gardens while we wait?"

Your mother nodded after his question. "Of course. That should be more than enough time for Lord Bridgerton to communicate his urgent matter."

Neither Mr. Demrick nor your mother were pleased by Anthony's presence, but you couldn't thank them enough from sparing you this one time. You know this man like no one else does, and you're certain that he wouldn't take a no for an answer and that would've made the situation a lot worse.

"Perfect," Mr. Demrick says before gesturing for your mother to lead the way. Before he leaves the room, he gives Anthony one last look before turning his attention back to you. "Perhaps we should discuss where you'd like your new piano to be in our future home once I'm back. I'd love for my wife to continue doing what she enjoys, especially when she's so extraordinary at it."

You smile after his comment, trying your best not to look at Anthony until Mr. Demrick is officially gone because you can imagine his features are clearly expressing his thoughts regarding that last comment. Once both of them are out of sight, you finally look at him.

"What is wrong with you?" you snapped almost immediately. "I'm glad Mr. Demrick is a patient and understanding man! He could've easily decided to leave the very instant you walked through that door demanding to have a word with me."

"I think he's captivated enough, my dear. I doubt you'll ever get rid of him," he replies, evidently disgusted by the thought of him.

"I don't intend to get rid of him. And do not call me that again."

"Why not? I've always called you that."

"That was before I met Mr. Demrick. Now, it is completely inappropriate."

"Oh, please. It's not like you're already his wife."

"But I will be soon," you point out. He's quiet after that, which gives you room to continue talking. "You must understand that a married woman cannot have other men calling her such things."

"So am I supposed to start addressing you like you're nothing but a stranger? Or perhaps you'd like me to already start calling you Mrs. Demrick? Is that how things will go? You marry this insufferable man and I have to just accept the fact that I no longer have my best friend?"

"I don't know what else you want me to say," you mutter, feeling like you could cry any minute now. "This was going to happen sooner or later."

"It was never supposed to be this way," he sighs, and your soul aches for him when you notice the way he's looking at you. Defeated, exhausted, disappointed, frustrated. You've never seen this particular mixture of emotions reflected in his eyes before.

"And how exactly it was supposed to be?"

Anthony was quiet, too quiet for your liking. You see his hesitation once again and you brace yourself to hear yet another confirmation of the fact that you're nothing but a friend. It doesn't matter that he glances at you from across the room like he can't help himself. It doesn't matter that all the Bridgerton siblings have made insinuations about you and Anthony's relationship. It's all in your head, because you're nothing but a friend.

In a surprising turn of events, you watch as he takes a few steps closer to you. He's cautious of every move, not wanting to scare you– or himself. The beat of your heart speeds up and your hands shake slightly when he's finally in front of you.

You look up at him like a deer coming face to face with a hunter, but in this case you're unable to run away for your life. He's dangerously close to you, gently moving his hand up to touch your face.

The second his fingers brush against your cheek, a shiver travels down your spine and you can't help but close your eyes because his touch is absolutely heavenly. Your breath hitches in the back of your throat when his digits trace down your neck until his hand settles there, holding you with his fingers behind your ear and his thumb still caressing the skin of your face.

"It should go like this," he whispers, and you finally open your eyes to see him looking at you with such adoration, you were certain your legs could betray you any second now and completely give in, causing you to fall straight to the ground.

He leans slightly closer after seconds of just contemplating you, and even though you closed your eyes again, feeling his nose brushing against yours, you're able to snap out of your trance before he could actually kiss you.

"It's not right..." you're able to say, pulling back from him but not nearly enough. He's still very much holding you.

"It is, my dear. I can tell you wish for this as badly as I do."

"Please, Anthony..." you try, but your body betrays you when your hand is resting on his bicep.

"I've always adored the way my name sounds when it's you the one calling me," he confesses, and your stomach fills with butterflies.

You realize he's leaning closer again, but before he can do so you manage to gather all traces of self-control that were almost stripped from you to move back, setting free of his touch.

Anthony stands there, absolutely confused and heartbroken, and is right then when you can't keep your tears in any longer.

"I'm afraid it is too late," you mutter. This has got to be the most painful thing you'll ever have to do. "I'm getting engaged soon."

"But you're not anyone's yet. There's still time if you haven't accepted any proposals."

"Please, don't make this any harder than it should be," you sob, wiping your tears away.

"Darling–"

"Believe me, no one would want this more than me," you interrupted. "You have no idea how many times I've found myself fantasizing about this very moment. For you to say all of this, to be yours forever..." Tears continue to roll down your cheeks and the sight is too much for Anthony to endure, as his own eyes are starting to fill with tears as well. "But it is not possible anymore. I'm sorry, I really am. I won't ask you to understand or accept my decision, but I'd appreciate that you can at least respect it."

"I won't. I refuse to let you marry someone else when we both know we belong together."

"Anthony, Mr. Demrick–"

"You still can't even call your future husband by his own name?"

You sigh, frustrated. "Charlie will become my husband. I don't doubt that he'll be an excellent companion, and that you'll find someone else in time. Soon enough, we'll be nothing but a memory."

"Is that really what you want?" he asks, and your heart sinks when you notice his voice breaking slightly.

You take a few seconds to answer. Of course that's not what you want. You want Anthony to be your husband. You'll always want him and him only. But it's already too late for any of that.

Feeling more heartbroken than ever before, you have to look back at Anthony and fight the urge to run to his arms. "Yes. And I also want you to leave."

Anthony was barely keeping it together, not wanting to cry in front of you. He's once again taking a few steps closer to you, but stops at a reasonable distance to grab your hand to kiss it. "Very well, my lady," he says with a quick bow of his head. "I apologize for wasting so much of your time. Let me assure you, I'll never bother you again."

He let your hand go and immediately turned to the door to leave. As soon as you no longer hear his footsteps, you fall to your knees and allow yourself to cry, feeling like the sorrows from this conversation will haunt you for the rest of your days.

Knowing Mr. Demrick and your mother could be here any minute, you decided to stand up from the ground as soon as you could to lock yourself in your room, where you could be away from everyone for a while until you feel ready to go downstairs and pretend you're content with this life that you've chosen for yourself today.

You really know you shouldn't, as you've played a part just as big as his in the downfall of everything you could've had together, but you can't help it as you curse Anthony for taking so long. You curse him for deciding to do something about his affection for you when it's far too late. And most importantly, you curse him because despite knowing it's over, you are certain that there's nothing you can do to ever get over your feelings for him.

As soon as you realize you're being unfair by putting all the blame on him, you also curse yourself for being as blind and coward as he was. And you curse life itself while you're at it, because you feel like making everyone and everything responsible for not being able to live the life that you wanted.

―

It's been a few days after the last time you and Anthony spoke. Just days, but it has felt like years and years without him. He hasn't reached out to you, and you couldn't deny that not having him around was absolute torture. There was no greater pain than this.

But you were hopeful that you could see him again at tonight's ball. It was all you could think about as you were getting ready.

"You look lovely, sister," the youngest of your family says, watching as one of the maids is finishing with your hair. "I can't wait to join all of you next season!"

"Thank you, my dearest," you smile at her. "I cannot wait for that either. Perhaps I can help you choose your dress and do your hair for your first ball."

"Yes, please!"

Your youngest sister stayed in your room with you until it was time for everyone to leave. Your father waited by the door while your mother put all of your siblings in line to check their appearance and make sure everyone was looking flawless.

Like the Bridgertons, your family was also quite large. Your older sister is already married so she no longer lives with you, but your parents still have a handful of children to take care of. Your two older brothers haven't married yet and neither have you. There's also your little sister, who's debuting next season, and your baby brother who's barely ten years old.

To this day, you have no idea how they were able to handle the chaos that six children can bring. For that, you admire them deeply.

Once your mother made sure everything was in order, you and your brothers followed her and your father to the carriage. They start a conversation, but you're barely paying any attention, as Anthony is keeping your head occupied again.

Eventually, you reach the residence where the ball's taking place and the five of you make your way inside. As all of you are standing outside the doors of the hall where the event is taking place, you feel a hand reaching out to grab yours. You turn around to look at your mother staring at you with a sympathetic smile.

"I'm so sorry, Mama," you say out of nowhere, though it's practically the only thing you've been able to say to her lately.

"You made the right choice, dear," she reassures you. "Are you ready?"

You nod, inhaling deeply before your mother lets go of you, standing with your father as they wait for you to take the first step. As soon as all of you are entering the room, you notice everyone staring your way, their eyes still filled with expectancy and excitement.

They still believe you're going to marry Mr. Demrick.

You quickly scan the room as you walk down the stairs, the familiar feeling in your stomach appearing when you spot Anthony along with his siblings, his eyes never once leaving you. Despite everything that has happened, he still looks at you like you're the only person in that room.

Your parents go off one way to mingle with other parents attending the event while your siblings scatter around the ballroom to greet their friends and find possible matches.

Having a chance to talk to Anthony was the only reason you decided to attend. Still, you didn't know how and when it'd be okay for you to approach him. Things didn't end on the best of terms, so it's normal for you to have your doubts.

Instead of immediately approaching him, you walk around the room, never losing sight of him. You couldn't help but smile to yourself the first time you catch him looking around the room, unsuccessful to locate you.

"I was hoping to see you tonight," you hear Daphne's voice next to you, sending you back to reality. "You look as beautiful as ever."

"Thank you, so do you."

Your friend smiles at you, briefly looking to where you previously were. "Are you looking for someone?"

"No, not at all," you immediately shake your head, imitating her smile.

"I apologize for what I'm about to say. I don't believe it is the time nor place, but I cannot hold myself back," she says with obvious concern as her smile is replaced with a frown. "My brother told me everything that happened the other day. I don't think I'll ever be able to express how sorry I am."

"Oh, Daphne, that's really not necessary..."

"But I think it is. As ashamed as this makes me, I'm afraid I was the one responsible for his actions."

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn't help but notice the way you two look at each other, or the way you smile when you're together. Believe me, I've never seen my dear brother so infatuated with anyone else before. To see you slip away from him and him doing nothing about it was not only painful, but it angered me enough to intervene," she explains. "After much convincing to do, I finally made him realize he needed to do something about his feelings. Evidently, I stood out of line and got myself involved in something I never should have, and for that I'm terribly sorry."

"You didn't do anything wrong. I know you had good intentions. There's absolutely nothing to forgive."

Daphne reaches out for your hands, relief evident in her features. "I was afraid you wouldn't want to talk to me again. You had all the right to do so, but I'm happy to see I was mistaken."

"I would never do such a thing."

She nodded, glad to know you two are still friends. "Well, with that situation out of the way, allow me to say I'm still very happy about you and Mr. Demrick. My love for my brother won't change the fact that I support your decision entirely."

You debated whether or not to say something, but the hesitation quickly slipped your mind when you looked at Daphne. She's been a great friend, you know there's nothing wrong with confessing this news to her.

She looks a bit confused when you grab her arm to guide her to a corner of the room, as far away from other people as possible. "I appreciate your words, but I'm afraid Mr. Demrick and I are no longer courting."

"Really? Did my imprudence make him change his mind?" she asks, worried she was to blame for this.

"Not at all. He actually proposed to me that very same evening."

"And...you said no?"

"I couldn't marry him, Daphne," you sighed. You'll never forgive yourself from breaking a good man's heart in the way you did with him, but deep down you knew it was the right thing to do. "I couldn't doom him to spend the rest of his life with a woman that doesn't love him the way he deserves."

"I don't judge you for it. My Mama has always taught us that marriage should be formed out of love. It's the only way a union like this can work," you friend offers, immediately wanting to show her support.

"If anything, my dear friend, I should be thanking you for your intervention," you quickly add. "If you never had that chat with your brother, I would've been engaged to a different man by now."

"I...Oh my, are you–?"

"I was as much of a fool as him. I could've said something a long time ago and yet I remained silent. And when he went to my house to give us a chance, I was once again deciding not to do a thing about my feelings. It was only when he left that I realized I made a terrible mistake."

Daphne is once again reaching for your hands, looking more excited than ever after your words. "You have no idea how pleased I am to hear you say all of this."

"You don't think it's too late, do you? I came here to talk to him, after all."

"No, no, not at all! He was devastated when he came back, I've never seen him like that in my life. We got to talk a little– and it's probably best if he's the one who confesses his true feelings in detail to you personally, but there's no doubt in my mind that from everything he said to me, he's deeply, madly and truly in love with you."

"I assure you I love him just as much."

"I don't doubt it either. And I think I speak for all my family when I say there's no one else we would like to be Anthony's wife but you."

"That makes me so happy to hear," you say with obvious excitement. Even Daphne looked like she could start crying any second. "Should I go talk to him now?"

"Please, I'm sure you can't wait any longer! He's over there, with Benedict and Colin."

"I shall tell you how it goes then."

"It'll go wonderful," she assures you, giving you one last smile before she allows you to leave.

Every second of that walk towards Anthony felt like centuries. Your mind spins with all the possible scenarios and everything you're going to say to him, but by the time you're in front of the three siblings your mind is completely blank.

"Gentlemen," was all you could say. The three of them immediately greet you with a quick bow. You notice Benedict and Colin exchanging looks, while Anthony's eyes are fixated on you. "I'd like to have a word with you– alone, if that's okay."

"Of course, my lady," was all he said.

"Oh my, you could cut the tension with a knife," Colin says suddenly. Anthony is so focused on you he barely acknowledges his comment.

"Shush, brother!" Benedict quickly warns, lightly pushing his little brother so he would start walking. "Excuse us," he smiled your way, starting to follow Colin.

You and Anthony are finally alone, but the people around you are still bothering you. "Is it okay if we go outside for a walk?"

"If it's okay with you," he says, a bit confused at first since you two had apparently agreed that you must keep your distance.

Anthony follows you to the gardens in complete silence. The music and chatter could still be heard. You were glad to realize it was only the two of you outside.

"What is it that you wanted to say to me?" he immediately asks, starting to walk next to you.

"I wanted to apologize for everything that happened."

"No need. Like you said, you made your choice and I'll have to respect it."

"It was the wrong choice. I see that now."

He was a bit surprised to hear that, but agreed with you nonetheless. "I'm afraid I can't say otherwise. At least I hope you find comfort in the fact that Mr. Demrick will be a fine husband, as you so fervently claim."

The two of you have reached a part of the garden that surrounds the two of you with large hedges decorated with beautiful flowers. It was then that you stopped walking and turned to look at him, knowing no one would be able to see or interrupt you here.

"I wanted to let you know that Mr. Demrick proposed and I said no," you blurted out simply, not wanting to keep it from him any longer.

"Why?" was all he could say.

"Because," you say, and this time it was painfully obvious.

Anthony couldn't believe your revelation at first, which would explain why he didn't move from his spot at first. As the realization of it all starts to sink in, he immediately walks closer to you and grabs your face with his hands. This time, you let him touch you as your hands move up to place them above his own.

"You're not marrying him?" he asks, barely above a whisper, still not entirely believing it. He really thought he had lost you forever.

You shake your head, unable to hold back your smile any longer. "There's only one man I'd like to marry."

Anthony smiles wider than ever after your comment and he's not able to control himself any longer, immediately closing the space between the two of you as he kisses you.

His kiss is everything you expected and more. So gentle, yet so passionate. It makes you feel like you're the most delicate thing in the entire world, but he must take a taste, so he does eagerly, yet carefully.

The moment doesn't last as much as you expected as he's abruptly pulling away. "Forgive me, I shouldn't have done that."

He takes a step back but he's gladly surprised when you wrap your arms around his neck to stop him. "Don't," you immediately say, "I want you close."

"I really shouldn't, my dear," he insisted, but you can tell it takes everything in him not to kiss you again at that very same moment.

"Is that so?" you tease him, inching just enough. "So you won't continue to kiss me? Not even if I'm so clearly desperate for you to do so?"

He's really trying to remind himself to be a gentleman. "I don't...it's not appropriate."

"Alright, them. It's perfectly fine, Mr. Bridgerton," you promptly agree, moving back from him entirely as you start walking away from him. "Perhaps we should go back then, before anyone notices our absence."

You're barely able to turn around to face him before he's one again in front of you, grabbing the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss.

This time, the kiss is anything but gentle. His tongue explores your mouth with a hunger completely unknown to you as his hands explore your body. The hand previously holding the back of your neck trails your collarbone before it explores further down, cupping one of your breasts while the other holds you close to his body, resting dangerously close to your ass.

His lips move down to your jaw until they settle on the skin of your neck. You close your eyes as you enjoy the way he explores you, a few moans escaping past your lips that only seem to encourage him further.

"Anthony," you whisper into the darkness of the night, holding onto his shoulders for dear life while he kisses all over your neck.

"You're such a delight, my love," he mutters against your skin. "You drive me absolutely mad."

He moves back to your lips now, your mind clouded with desire for him and making it impossible for you to think of anything else other than how badly you need him to continue to touch you and kiss you. You could never get tired of this.

But much to your disappointment, he's pulling away from you again shortly after. His forehead rests against yours as both of you are gasping for air. You open your eyes when he's no longer leaning against you, just to catch him looking down at you with a smile.

"You're so beautiful," he comments, one of his fingers tracing your lower lip. "I could kiss these lips all day if I could."

"And I'd have no complaints about that."

He chuckles after your comment before taking a second to contemplate your beauty under the moonlight. "I deeply regret wasting so much time we could've spent as husband and wife."

"We have many years to make amends for that."

"Is that so?" he asks with a smile, his arms wrapped around your waist to keep you close.

"Well, that is if you ask for my hand."

"We'll go back to the ball and I'll talk to your father right away."

You fake to be offended by his comment. "Without asking for my opinion on the matter, Lord Bridgerton?"

"Forgive me, how rude of me," he follows along with your theatrics, but you immediately notice the shift in his eyes before he continues. They look softer than ever and shine as bright as all the stars in the sky combined. And you feel warm, at peace, so loved by the man standing before you. "My dearest, from the moment I met you, I knew we were destined to be together. You not only captivated me with your beauty, but with everything that you are. And as I started to know you, you kept proving me right. I saw it in the way you'd stay practicing your music for hours with such intent and passion. I saw it in the way you care so deeply about the ones fortunate enough to have you in their lives. I saw it in the way my mother instantly adored you, and how Hyacinth wouldn't stop asking me to invite you over so she could play with you. There's no doubt in my mind that you are the one for me."

You were completely speechless, absolutely mesmerized by his words. He takes a moment to gently wipe a few tears falling down your cheeks. He has always said to you how he's terrible at things like this, yet here he is proving himself wrong.

"If all previous words hold any room for confusion, allow me to clear it all right away. I've been yours from the moment we met and I couldn't possibly be more in love with you. And there's nothing that would make me happier than spending the rest of my life with you," he continues, finally taking a step back to grab both of your hands as he kneels in front of you. "Would you make me the honor of accepting me as your husband?"

You couldn't stop smiling at that point, immediately nodding after his question. "Yes. Now and forever, it'll always be yes."

Anthony kisses both of your hands before standing up to pull you in for a hug. "It pleases me to hear you accept. For a moment, I feared the tears were a bad sign."

You laugh at his little joke before breaking the hug. "Perhaps we should get back. I'm afraid we've been gone for quite a while now."

"That shouldn't be much of a problem now that we're engaged. I shall ask to have a word with your father as soon as we get back– and ask my mother for her ring."

"Is it okay if I inform Daphne?"

"I have absolutely no objections if you decide to announce the news to every person inside that ballroom, my love. Let everyone know you'll be the next Viscountess. Nothing would make me happier."

He offers his arm and you immediately accept it, starting to walk back to the ball with him– your future husband. At that very moment, you've sworn you've never been happier.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x fem!reader #bridgerton tv show #anthony bridgerton angst #anthony bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton fic #bridgerton fic

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ageofstarkey · 1 year ago

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Hi! Could you write a Mattheo one, where it’s that time of the month, and you’re just really not feeling like facing the world.

poor thing ✰ m. riddle

summary: you’re on your period, and matthéo’s there to help you feel less awful.

pairing: bf!matthéo x reader

warnings: reader is implied to be afab, mentions of reader having their period, discussion of period-related symptoms, nothing else really???

note: hello!! thank you so much for the request!! i’m still trying to find my groove with writing, but i hope i did your prompt some justice :’) also pretend that boys can in fact enter the girls dorms in this universe lmfao

masterlist

comments & reblogs are so appreciated!

✰ ✰ ✰

“aren’t you getting up for potions?”

when you roll over, you see pansy watching you from the doorway. she’s dressed and ready for the day - book bag slung carefully across her body. she studies you with something akin to concern; awaiting your response with perfect, furrowed brows.

with a quiet sigh, you push yourself into a half-sitting position. “i don’t think so. i got my period last night and i feel absolutely horrid.”

“want me to tell riddle? i’m sure he’s looking for an excuse to skip anyway”

you roll your eyes fondly. “he’s already missed too many lessons this year - let him figure it out on his own time, yeah?”

pansy shrugs. “fine. hope you feel better.”

you groan, flopping none-too-gracefully back on your pillow. “me too.”

when pansy leaves, you take a few moments to savour the silence. it does little to ease the uncomfortable ache in your abdomen, but it’s quiet enough that you can almost pretend your head hasn’t been throbbing since the second you opened your eyes.

eventually, you snuggle back under your thick quilt, resigned to sleeping away your misery. it doesn’t take long for your fatigue to take over, pushing you steadily towards the edge of unconsciousness.

you’re nearly asleep, when you hear a sharp knock at the dormitory door. your brows tug downwards in confusion. with a quiet groan, you drag yourself out of bed. the floors are shockingly cold against your bare feet, and you curse quietly under your breath as you approach the door.

when you tug it open, you’re pleasantly surprised to see your boyfriends handsome face. although he should be in class, you can hardly fight the grin that tugs at your lips. “you are not supposed to be here.”

matthéo quirks an eyebrow, sporting a smirk you know all too well. “shall i see myself out then?”

you roll your eyes fondly. “no.”

“didn’t think so.” he lets himself in, kicking the door shut behind him. “do you wanna lay down?”

“merlin - more than anything.”

he tugs you gently towards him, pressing his lips against your forehead in a chaste kiss. “i figured as much.” he murmurs the words against your skin, punctuating them with another kiss. when he pulls away, he nudges you gently towards the bed. “how are you feeling?”

“awful.”

“cramps?” he shrugs off a few layers of clothing, before tugging back your quilt and laying on the bed.

with a gentle little tug, you’re falling into the empty space beside him. “my entire body just… aches.” with a defeated sigh, you drop your head on his chest.

matthéo hums softly, stroking a gentle hand up and down the length of your spine. “poor thing.”

“tell me about it.”

with a quiet little laugh, he tilts your head up towards his own. “do you think you’ll survive?”

“i really might not, théo. this might be it for me.”

matthéo rolls his eyes, but he wears a fond little smile that gives him away. “you’re ridiculous.”

“i am not!” your lips turn downwards in an involuntary pout. “it hurts.”

“i know, sweetheart.” he closes the small gap between you, kissing away your feeble little frown. “why don’t you try and get some rest, hm?”

“you’ll stay?”

he kisses you again - longer this time, and you swear you’re feeling better already. “‘m not going anywhere.”

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rootedinrevisions · 1 month ago

Text

Better Late Than Never

SUMMARY: After years of friendship and one too many broken promises, Glen realizes he might lose the person who means the most to him. As he works to prove he’s ready to be the man she deserves, she wrestles with whether to risk her heart on the one person who’s been there all along.

The actress named is an OC that I gave a random name to. She is not based on any real life actresses or any co-stars Glen has ever been asscoiated or worked with. Just a random OC for the purpose of the story.

A/N: Thank you to the person who sent this request in. I am so sorry it's taken literally months to get this written. I hope it's worth the wait and that you enjoy it!

As always I'd love to hear what you guys think! I love seeing your comments, reblogs, and thoughts/feedback on my writing!

WORD COUNT: 11.1k

TAGS: In Comments.

The smell of cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee greeted you as you stepped into the cozy café, escaping the brisk December chill. The place was buzzing with holiday cheer—soft jazz versions of Christmas carols played in the background, and twinkling lights were strung across the windows. You tugged your scarf loose as your eyes scanned the room.

And then you saw him.

Glen was seated at a small table near the back, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he scrolled through his phone. His hair was messier than usual, a few strands falling onto his forehead, and he was dressed down in a flannel shirt and jeans, looking every bit like the guy you grew up with rather than the Hollywood star the rest of the world saw.

As if sensing your gaze, he looked up, and his face lit up with a grin that made your heart stutter. He stood, opening his arms wide.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite munchkin,” he teased, using the nickname he’d given you in high school.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face as you walked toward him. “Still holding on to that old nickname, huh?”

“Always.” His voice was warm, and before you could protest, he wrapped you in a bear hug, lifting you slightly off the ground. “Wouldn’t call you it if you weren’t so short.”

You laughed as he set you down, the sound muffled against his chest. “It’s good to see you,” you said, looking up at him once he released you.

“Good to see you too,” he replied, his smile softening as he held your gaze. “It’s been way too long.”

The two of you settled into your seats, the café’s warmth and the hum of conversation making it feel like no time had passed at all. Glen slid your drink across the table—a latte, just the way you liked it.

“You remembered?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course. You’re predictable,” he teased, winking. “Although I almost got you a peppermint mocha just to mess with you.”

“Ha, ha,” you said dryly, taking a sip of your drink. It was perfect, of course. “So, what brings you back to Austin? Don’t you have some big premiere to attend or a magazine spread to shoot?”

“Please,” Glen said, leaning back in his chair. “It’s Christmas. Had to come home for the holidays.”

“True,” you said, glancing out the window where people bustled by, their arms full of shopping bags and scarves wrapped tightly against the wind. “Austin does Christmas pretty well. Even without snow.”

Glen smirked. “You’re still holding out for that miracle snowstorm, huh?”

“A girl can dream,” you shot back with a grin.

The conversation drifted easily, filled with updates about his work, your job, and mutual friends. It wasn’t until you mentioned your upcoming birthday that his playful expression turned more serious.

“So,” you said, casually swirling the foam in your cup with your spoon, “my birthday’s in a couple of weeks. You still think you’ll be able to be here?”

His brow furrowed for a moment, as if the thought of missing it hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Of course I’ll be here. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

“Really?” you asked, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice.

Glen leaned forward, his expression earnest. “You’ve been there for every big moment in my life. There’s no way I’m skipping yours.”

A warmth spread through your chest, and you quickly glanced down at your drink to hide the blush creeping up your neck. “Well, in that case, you’re invited to my very fancy celebration.”

“Fancy, huh?” His lips quirked into a grin.

“Super fancy,” you said with a smirk. “We’re talking margaritas, tacos, maybe a dive bar. Real high-class stuff.”

Glen’s grin fell as his face scrunched up in mock horror. “Please don’t tell me we’re spending your birthday at that awful dive bar on South Congress.”

You burst out laughing. “What, you don’t miss sticky floors and karaoke with questionable sound systems?”

He shook his head, leaning back in his chair with a dramatic sigh. “I’m just saying, with a couple of phone calls, I could get us into literally any place in Austin. Rooftop bars, private clubs—your pick.”

You rolled your eyes. “And spend the night dodging people trying to take selfies with you? No, thanks. Besides, you know those fancy rooftop bars aren’t my style.”

Glen chuckled, his playful grin returning. “Fine, munchkin. Dive bars and tacos it is. But don’t come crying to me when someone tries to serenade you with a terrible rendition of ‘Don’t Stop Believin’.’”

You smirked, raising your cup in a mock toast. “It wouldn’t be my birthday without it. Besides, it’s not about where we are. It’s about the people I’m with. My favorite people, to be specific.”

Glen pointed his spoon at you, smirking. “You really don’t have to keep buttering me up, you know. I already told you I’m coming. Whole weekend, no distractions. I’m all yours.”

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping into your expression. “No distractions, huh? Not even work?”

He held a hand to his chest in mock offense. “What kind of friend do you think I am? I told my team: no calls, no events. You get my undivided attention. Pinky promise.”

He held out his pinky, and you laughed despite yourself, hooking your own around his. His hand was warm, and the contact lingered just a little longer than necessary before he pulled away.

“You better not bail on me, Powell,” you warned playfully, but there was a faint edge to your voice.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his expression softening. “You’ve been there for me through every big moment in my life. I’m not missing yours.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and you quickly glanced down at your drink, trying to hide the warmth creeping into your cheeks. It wasn’t fair how easily he could make your heart skip a beat without even trying.

“Now, tell me about this party. How many people are we talking? And how many of them are single?” Glen said, flashing you a wink.

You rolled your eyes, smirking. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet, you still put up with me.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to fade away. It was just the two of you, laughing and teasing like you always had, but the thought lingered in the back of your mind: maybe, just maybe, you wanted more.

* * * * *

A FEW WEEKS LATER

Your room was a mess of clothes—sweaters, jeans, and dresses strewn across the bed in a chaotic attempt to find the perfect outfit. You stood in front of the mirror, holding up a navy blue dress, then tossed it onto the growing pile with a sigh.

“Too dressy,” you muttered to yourself, reaching for a soft cream sweater instead.

Dinner with Glen wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, but still, you wanted to look nice. It wasn’t every day you got one-on-one time with him, especially since his life seemed to revolve around premieres, photoshoots, and packed schedules. Tonight, though—it was just supposed to be the two of you. A low-key dinner, catching up like old times.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling you out of your thoughts. You glanced at the screen and saw Glen’s name pop up, a text notification lighting up the room. Smiling, you grabbed the phone, already anticipating something cheeky or playful.

Instead, your smile faltered as you read the message:

GLEN: Hey, I’m so sorry, but something came up, and I can’t make it to dinner tonight. I’ll definitely be there for the party tomorrow, though. Promise."

Your chest tightened, and you reread the text, hoping you’d somehow misunderstood. But there it was, plain as day. He wasn’t coming.

You sank down onto the edge of your bed, staring at the message. A flicker of disappointment stirred in your chest, and you tried to push it down. It wasn’t like he’d done this on purpose. Glen was busy—always busy. You knew that.

Still, tonight had felt different. It wasn’t just any dinner; it was the start of your birthday weekend, and it had been his idea to plan something special just the two of you to start the weekend off.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of how to respond. You didn’t want to come off as upset, even if you were.

Finally, you typed: No worries. I’ll see you tomorrow!

You added a smiley face at the end, hoping it would mask the sting of disappointment.

Glen’s reply came almost instantly: Thanks for understanding. I owe you one. Tomorrow’s going to be amazing—I promise!

You set your phone down and exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the letdown. It wasn’t the end of the world. You still had tomorrow, and it wasn’t like you weren’t able to make other plans tonight. Maybe you’d text a friend and see if they wanted to grab a drink or hang out.

But even as you stood up and started putting the clothes back into your closet, the nagging feeling lingered. Glen had been your best friend since forever, and deep down, you’d hoped tonight would feel like old times again—just you and him, laughing over tacos and margaritas like nothing had changed.

As you finished hanging up the last of your clothes, your phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t a text—just a notification from Instagram. You picked it up, your thumb mindlessly tapping the app out of habit.

The screen lit up with familiar photos from friends, coworkers, and influencers. You scrolled past a shot of someone’s latte art and a blurry concert video before something caught your eye.

It was Glen. The photo, posted by a good friend of Glen was unmistakable: Glen, standing in the corner of a lavish party, his arm casually slung around her.

The caption read, "Celebrating with the one and only @GlenPowell and the incomparable @AlannaNorris at her wrap party tonight! 🎬✨"

Your heart sank.

You tapped on the image, zooming in despite yourself. Glen looked every bit the part of Hollywood star—broad smile, hair perfectly tousled, a drink in hand. And then there was Alanna Norris, the co-star he’d been talking about for months. She looked just as radiant as she did on screen: long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders, wearing a dress that seemed to shimmer even in the dim lighting of the party.

Your thumb hovered over the screen as you stared, frozen.

“Seriously?” you whispered to yourself, the word sharp in the silence of your room.

You clicked over to Glen’s profile, hoping—praying—it wasn’t what it looked like. But there it was again, a short video he’d just posted to his story.

The camera panned across a glittering rooftop, strings of fairy lights glowing against the New York skyline. Glen’s laugh echoed in the background as he toasted with a group of people, Alanna sitting right beside him, leaning into his shoulder like they’d known each other forever.

Your stomach twisted.So this was what had "come up."

You locked your phone and tossed it onto the bed, the dull thud breaking the heavy silence in the room.

It wasn’t just the fact that he’d canceled on you for some Hollywood event. It was because it was her. Alanna, the gorgeous, talented, larger-than-life actress Glen had gushed about every chance he got. You’d listened to him talk about her on phone calls, how brilliant she was, how hilarious, how effortlessly cool.

And now, she wasn’t just a co-star. She was at the center of his world tonight.

You sank onto the bed, feeling a lump rise in your throat. It wasn’t like you could compete with someone like that. You were just... you. The girl Glen had known since middle school. The one who knew all his secrets, his quirks, his favorite stupid jokes. But suddenly, that didn’t feel like enough.

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you rested your chin on them, trying to push the image out of your head. Tomorrow was your party. Tomorrow, Glen would be there, and everything would be fine.

* * * * *

THE NEXT DAY

The next morning, the sound of your alarm pulled you from restless sleep. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, but the heaviness from last night hadn’t lifted. Today was supposed to be a good day—a celebration. You tried to focus on that as you showered and got dressed, slipping into a casual outfit for your plans with the girls.

By mid-morning, you were seated in a cozy pedicure chair at your favorite spa, surrounded by the laughter and chatter of your closest friends. The scent of lavender and eucalyptus filled the air, and the soothing warmth of the foot soak should have been relaxing. Should have.

“You’re quiet today,” Maggie said, glancing at you over the top of her magazine. She was seated in the chair next to yours, her dark hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. “That’s not like you. What’s going on?”

You shook your head quickly. “Nothing. Just tired, I guess.”

“Uh-huh.” Maggie raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

“Girl, you’ve been off all morning,” your other friend Taylor chimed in from across the row, her toes painted a vibrant red. “Spill it. What’s wrong? Is it birthday stress?”

“It’s nothing, really,” you said, avoiding their eyes.

Maggie closed her magazine with a snap and leaned closer. “Liar. Something’s up, and we’re not letting you out of here until you tell us.”

You hesitated, your stomach twisting. The last thing you wanted was to drag your friends into your Glen drama. But as the silence stretched, their expectant looks wore you down.

With a sigh, you finally admitted, “Glen canceled dinner last night.”

“What?” Maggie looked genuinely surprised. “Why?”

You bit your lip, debating how much to say. “He said something came up... but then I saw on Instagram that he was at a party for Alanna Norris.”

Taylor let out a low whistle. “Oof. That’s rough.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, staring at the bubbling water swirling around your feet.

Maggie gave you a pointed look. “Wait. You’re upset because Glen ditched dinner, or because he ditched dinner for her?”

“I’m upset because he canceled, period,” you said quickly, a little too quickly.

“Uh-huh,” Maggie said again, her voice dripping with skepticism. “Come on, we’re not blind. You’ve been into Glen for years. Don’t even try to deny it.”

Your cheeks flushed. “I’m not... It’s not like that.”

“Oh, please,” Taylor said, rolling her eyes. “You’ve had heart eyes for that man since high school. And now he’s a big-shot actor, and you’re still acting like he’s just your childhood best friend. It’s obvious to everyone but you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Maggie cut you off. “Look, we get it. You’re hurt. And yeah, him blowing off dinner for Alanna is a crappy move. But you know Glen—he wouldn’t miss your party for anything. He loves you, even if he’s too dumb to realize how he loves you.”

Taylor nodded in agreement. “Exactly. Don’t let this ruin your weekend. You’re amazing, and tonight’s about celebrating you. If Glen has half a brain, he’ll show up and spend the whole night groveling.”

You let out a small laugh despite yourself, grateful for their attempts to cheer you up. “Thanks, guys.”

“Anytime,” Maggie said, leaning back in her chair as the nail technician started painting her toes. “Now, let’s focus on the important stuff. What are you wearing tonight?”

The afternoon passed in a blur of laughter and pampering, and by the time you and the girls left the salon, your nails gleaming and your spirits lifted, the tension from earlier had eased. The golden glow of the setting sun filtered through the car windows as Maggie drove you all back to your place, the playlist of nostalgic throwbacks you’d put together for the weekend blaring through the speakers.

By the time you stepped through your front door, the mood had shifted to one of excited anticipation. The smell of vanilla candles filled your apartment, mingling with the faint scent of perfume and hair spray as you and the girls scattered to your respective corners to finish getting ready.

“Are you sure about this outfit?” you called from your room, stepping into the hallway in your dress. The shimmering fabric caught the light, hugging your figure just enough to make you feel elegant, but not over the top.

Taylor popped her head out of the bathroom, her lips lined perfectly in a bold red. “Girl, yes. You look amazing. Stop overthinking.”

Maggie appeared behind her, fluffing her curls. “She’s right. You’re the birthday girl—own it.”

You smiled, turning back to the mirror to smooth down the dress and fasten the delicate bracelet Maggie had given you earlier as a gift. The room buzzed with energy as you applied the final touches—adding a swipe of gloss to your lips, slipping into heels that clicked lightly against the hardwood floor, and making sure everything was just right.

As the clock ticked closer to party time, you took a deep breath and glanced at your friends. “Okay, how do I look?”

Taylor gave you an approving once-over. “Like a total knockout.”

“And like someone who’s about to have the best birthday ever,” Maggie added with a grin.

You laughed, feeling their support buoying you. Whatever happened tonight, one thing was certain: you wouldn’t face it alone.

* * * * *

The hum of conversation and clinking glasses surrounded you as you sat at the long table, margarita in hand, trying to match your friends’ enthusiasm. The restaurant was buzzing, its warm lighting casting a golden glow over the colorful decor. Everyone you invited had arrived, chatting and laughing, and the margaritas flowed freely.

Everyone except for Glen.

You glanced at the empty seat next to you, the one you’d saved for him. Twenty minutes had passed since the reservation time, and while you’d tried to hold on to optimism, your patience was wearing thin.

The waiter approached again, balancing a notepad in one hand and a practiced smile on his face. “Are we ready to order, or would you like a little more time?”

You hesitated, glancing at your phone for what felt like the hundredth time. The screen lit up with no new notifications, just the same string of unread messages you’d sent Glen earlier.

YOU: Hey, are you on your way?

YOU: We’re already here!

YOU: Everything okay?

With a sigh, you set the phone face down on the table and nodded to the waiter. “We’re ready to order.”

As everyone began calling out their selections, your mind wandered. Glen had canceled dinner with you last night, and now he was a no-show for your birthday dinner without even a text to explain. You tried to shake off the pang of disappointment creeping into your chest, but it lingered. You couldn’t help but wonder how much you really meant to him if he couldn’t be bothered to show up for this.

The waiter left with your table’s orders, but the mood around you was still light and cheerful—at least for everyone else. You swirled the straw in your margarita, staring at the melting ice as your friends chatted around you.

You glanced down at your phone again, lighting up the screen. Still nothing. Your chest tightened with a mix of frustration and disappointment.

“Okay, that’s it,” Maggie said suddenly, pulling your attention away from your phone. She folded her arms, giving you a knowing look. “Hand it over.”

“What?” you blinked, startled.

“Your phone. Give it to me.” Maggie held out her hand, her expression leaving no room for argument.

You frowned, clutching your phone tighter. “Maggie, come on, I’m fine. I’m just—”

“Obsessing,” she interrupted. “You’re obsessing, and it’s driving you crazy. Glen’s not here, and if you spend the rest of the night staring at your phone, waiting for him to magically show up, you’re going to miss all the fun. So, hand it over.”

Taylor leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she watched you with an amused smile. “She’s got a point. You’re spiraling, babe.”

You let out a sigh, holding your phone against your chest. “He probably got caught up with something. You know how busy he is—he’s always working or—”

“Or going to parties for his co-stars,” Maggie cut in, her tone sharper than before. “Yeah, we know. And yet somehow, he still managed to ditch your birthday dinner. I’m sorry, but that’s not okay.”

Taylor raised her eyebrows, backing her up. “Mags is right. This isn’t about work, and you know it. You don’t need to make excuses for him.”

You hesitated, the sting of their words hitting harder than you expected. “I’m not making excuses,” you said quietly, though even you didn’t sound convinced.

“Babe, you are,” Maggie said, her tone softening slightly. “I get it, okay? You care about him. But he’s not here. And we are. So stop letting him ruin your night and let me take the damn phone.”

You bit your lip, glancing between Maggie’s outstretched hand and your phone. The last thing you wanted was to let Glen off the hook, but part of you still hoped he’d show up. That maybe he had a good reason for being late. That maybe—

“Mags is right,” Taylor said, leaning back in her chair with a sigh, crossing her arms in a way that said she wasn’t budging on this. “You need to forget about him for now. Besides, you know he’s going to show up tomorrow and flash that stupid grin of his, and you’ll forgive him in a second.”

The words hit harder than expected, and a small laugh escaped from the table, though it wasn’t as lighthearted as it should’ve been. Everyone was looking at you, their eyes full of sympathy, but the teasing tone only made you feel more exposed. Your face flushed, and you fiddled with the edge of your napkin, not wanting to meet their eyes.

“I don’t—” you started, but your voice wavered.

You didn’t want to admit it out loud, but deep down, you knew Taylor was probably right. You’d forgiven him before. The way he could flash that charming smile, act like nothing happened, and suddenly, all would be forgiven. You hated that it worked on you, every time.

Maggie raised her eyebrows at you, a knowing smile on her face. “What? You think we don’t see it? Girl, you always forgive him.” She leaned forward, her hands clasped together on the table as she tilted her head, her tone softening a little. “You care about him, but right now, he's not here. And you deserve better than waiting around for someone who’s too busy to show up for you on your birthday.”

You didn’t have a response for that, not immediately. Part of you wanted to defend him, explain that there had to be a reason, but then you realized—he hadn’t even sent a text. Not a word, not a single message to let you know he was running late.

“You know, you’re right,” you said quietly, the sting of the truth washing over you like a cold wave. “I always forgive him, no matter how much he lets me down.” You forced a laugh, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

Maggie’s smile softened, and she nudged you gently with her shoulder. “Because you want to see the best in him. But right now? You need to let go and stop thinking about him. Just for tonight.”

Taylor, always the playful one, smirked and added, “Let’s be real here. He’s gonna show up tomorrow, all sorry and sweet, and you’re gonna melt, like you always do.” She winked.

That earned another small laugh from the rest of the table, but you felt your cheeks burn. You could feel the heat rise up your neck, the familiar twinge of embarrassment that always crept in when they were right.

“I’m not that predictable,” you mumbled, even though you knew it wasn’t true. Your friends had seen you with Glen enough times to know exactly how you’d react.

“You are, and it’s adorable,” Maggie said with a smirk. “But for now, let me take care of this for you.” Before you could protest, Maggie reached over and snatched your phone out of your hands with the speed of a ninja, tucking it safely into her purse before you even had a chance to stop her.

“Hey!” you protested, reaching out instinctively. “That’s mine!”

Maggie looked at you, her expression all business. “Not anymore, it’s not. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.” She grinned, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “We’re here to celebrate you, not him. So, no more phone checking, no more waiting around. Tonight is about you, birthday girl.”

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, a part of you appreciated her determination. The thought of not having that distraction tugging at you was oddly comforting.

“Fine,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’ll try to have fun. But if he doesn’t show up tomorrow—”

Maggie held up her hands in mock surrender. “Don’t worry. We’ll deal with that when it comes. For now, focus on the people who are actually here, okay?”

Taylor raised her glass. “Exactly! We’re going to make sure you forget about him. For tonight, you get to be the center of attention.”

A slow smile crept across your face as you lifted your own glass. “I guess I can get on board with that.”

And just like that, the conversation shifted back to lighter topics. But even as they joked around, you couldn’t help but wonder: Would you really be able to forget about him?

The night had shifted. After a couple of drinks, some terrible karaoke performances, and endless rounds of laughter that made your stomach ache, you finally felt yourself beginning to relax.

The weight of Glen’s no-show was still there, lingering like a stubborn cloud, but your friends had done a good job of distracting you. You sat at the back of the dive bar in a cozy booth, the group of friends scattered around you, making the most of your birthday despite the slight disappointment that had marred the night.

“Okay, but if you’re telling me that was your best dance move, I might need to revoke your birthday privileges,” Taylor teased, nudging you with her elbow as she leaned back in the booth. She was a little tipsy now, her cheeks flushed and her grin wide. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ll have you know that was art,” you teased back, rolling your eyes but feeling lighter than you had when you first arrived.

The night had gotten progressively easier to bear. It wasn’t the dinner with Glen you’d hoped for, but your friends were here, and you knew they wouldn’t let you wallow for long. You took another sip of your drink and leaned back, letting yourself enjoy the music, the chatter, and the familiar, laid-back vibe of the dive bar. It was the kind of place where time seemed to stand still, and no one cared what anyone else was doing.

Just as you were about to reply to another one of Taylor’s jokes, you noticed Maggie was starting to make her way to the bar, probably to grab another round. You were about to call out to her when your gaze shifted, locking onto a figure that made your heart skip.

Glen.

You could see him scanning the room, his tall frame immediately standing out from the crowd. He was wearing that familiar smirk, the one that made you feel both crazy and happy at the same time. Your stomach tightened, and even though you were trying to enjoy the night, the disappointment washed over you again.

But then, something unexpected happened. Maggie, who’d been walking toward the bar, paused as she caught sight of Glen. Without missing a beat, she took a few steps toward him, intercepting his path just before he could make it toward your table. You could see her arms cross, her posture shifting into one of those rare, no-nonsense stances she had when she was about to call someone out.

You couldn’t hear the conversation from across the room, but you could see the way Glen’s smile faltered as Maggie leaned in. Her body language was firm, her expression serious. Glen’s hands went up, trying to appease her, but Maggie wasn’t backing down.

After a few moments of what seemed like intense conversation, Maggie pointed over her shoulder toward your booth. Glen glanced over, his gaze immediately landing on you. His face softened, but Maggie quickly cut him off, saying something else before gesturing toward the door.

GLEN’S P.O.V.

Glen was halfway to the booth when something—or someone—stopped him cold. He turned to see Maggie, of all people, standing in his path, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. She didn’t look pleased.

“Look, I get it,” he started, trying to brush past her with a smile, but she was having none of it.

“Do you?” Maggie’s voice was sharp, her tone cutting through the music and chatter of the bar. She didn’t give him an inch, holding her ground.

“Yeah,” he said, his smile faltering. He had hoped tonight would go smoother, but as soon as he bailed on dinner last night, he knew he was going to have to face this. “I know I messed up, okay? But it wasn’t like I didn’t want to be there—things just...came up.”

Maggie didn’t flinch, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest. “You know better than this, Glen,” she said, voice firm. “She’s been waiting for you, and you cancel on her, then don’t even bother to show up for her dinner tonight. You can’t just waltz in here like nothing happened.”

Glen’s gaze softened. He could feel his stomach twist with guilt. He should’ve been there for you—he knew that. But in the back of his mind, he was still rationalizing everything, trying to make it make sense.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I swear, I’ll make it right. Just—let me talk to her.”

Maggie’s eyes narrowed further, and she leaned in, lowering her voice as if she wanted only him to hear. “She better have your full attention tonight, or you can turn around and leave. No excuses, no more half-assed apologies. She’s been let down enough by you already.” Glen opened his mouth to respond, but Maggie wasn’t finished. She jabbed a finger toward the door, a clear, no-nonsense gesture that left no room for negotiation. “You get it right tonight, or I’ll make sure she never gives you another chance.”

Glen’s stomach dropped, the weight of Maggie’s words sinking in. He was used to being the charming, smooth-talking guy who could talk his way out of things. But this? This was different. Maggie wasn’t just looking out for her friend—she was looking out for someone who deserved better than his latest screw-up.

“Alright,” Glen said, nodding, his voice tight. “I get it.”

Maggie gave a single, sharp nod, satisfied, before turning on her heel. Glen watched her walk back to the table and, for the first time all night, felt the real pressure of the situation. He couldn’t screw this up again. Not with you. Not tonight.

He swallowed hard, steeling himself for what came next.

YOUR P.O.V. AGAIN

Maggie came back to your table just moments later, her face a mix of amusement and mild annoyance.

“Well,” she said, dropping into the booth next to you, “he knows he’s going to have some explaining to do. But I think he got the message.”

You blinked at her, trying to mask the surge of conflicting emotions that had hit you all at once. “What did you say to him?”

Maggie took a long sip of her drink, not missing a beat. “Told him it’s not cool to bail on you like that, especially not when you’re trying to celebrate your birthday.”

You stared at her, a little wide-eyed, unsure if you should feel relieved or mad. Part of you felt grateful for Maggie’s boldness in standing up for you, but another part felt like you should’ve been the one to confront him. But that didn’t matter now.

“Well,” Taylor said from across the booth, glancing over at you with a grin, “at least he knows he has to earn his way back into the birthday girl’s good graces. If he’s smart, he’ll make tonight all about you. And then maybe he’ll show up tomorrow with a damn good explanation—and maybe a gift.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the weight in your chest starting to lighten. You weren’t sure what was going to happen with Glen. You weren’t even sure what you wanted to happen.

Glen took a deep breath, steeling himself as he made his way toward your booth. His heart hammered in his chest, his mind racing with a mix of regret and nervous anticipation. The guilt from the previous night was still fresh, but this—this was his chance to make things right.

As Glen neared the booth, your eyes locked onto his. You straightened your posture, resisting the urge to immediately brighten at the sight of him. Instead, you leaned back slightly, arms crossed, attempting to project an air of indifference.

"Decided to show up, huh?" you quipped, your tone light but edged with subtle annoyance.

Glen paused, his lips tugging into that familiar, crooked smile—the one that always seemed to chip away at your resolve. “Of course I did,” he replied smoothly, his voice warm but tinged with something softer, almost hesitant. “You didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun without me, did you?”

You raised an eyebrow, determined not to let him off the hook so easily. “Could’ve fooled me,” you shot back, your words casual but pointed. “I mean, you’re only—what? Several hours late?”

The flicker of guilt in his expression gave you a small sense of satisfaction, but before you could revel in it, Glen crossed the final steps to you and, without warning, wrapped you in a bone-crushing hug.

“Wait—Glen, I—” you started to protest, but the words dissolved as his arms tightened around you, pulling you against him. His embrace was warm, firm, and so familiar that it disarmed every wall you’d been trying to build in those few seconds. Despite yourself, you melted into him, your hands sliding up to rest against his back, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

The scent of him washed over you, and you felt your resolve crumble. There was a comfort in his presence, a steady reassurance that you didn’t realize how much you’d missed until now.

“I’m sorry,” Glen murmured, his voice low and close to your ear. “I shouldn’t have missed dinner. I shouldn’t have been late. That was on me, and I know I messed up.”

You wanted to stay annoyed, to hold onto the frustration that had simmered since the night before, but the sincerity in his tone—paired with the way his arms tightened around you like he couldn’t bear to let go—made it impossible.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart skip. “I mean it,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “I’ve put my phone on Do Not Disturb. Tonight is all about you, and I’m not going to screw it up again. No distractions, no excuses. Just you.”

For a moment, you stared at him, torn between wanting to push him away and wanting to pull him closer. “You’ve got a lot to make up for,” you muttered, your voice lacking the bite you’d intended.

“I know. And I promise I will.”

He gave you a quick squeeze before letting go, and you couldn’t help but feel the absence of his warmth as he stepped back, his smile now tinged with that boyish charm that always made it hard to stay mad at him.

With a small, tentative smile, you sat back down, Glen following suit as he slid into the booth beside you. His presence was comforting now, though the distance between the two of you would take some time to bridge fully.

It didn’t take long for your friends to start giving him a bit of a hard time, teasing him about how long it had taken him to show up. But he took it all in stride, shrugging with that playful grin of his that had always been hard to resist. He made light of the situation, joking that Maggie had given him a “talk” that was definitely more intimidating than any red carpet interview he’d ever done. The table erupted in laughter, and you couldn’t help but chuckle too.

Glen fit in like he’d always been a part of the group. He didn’t just charm you—he charmed everyone. Your friends, the boyfriends, the husbands—everyone seemed at ease with him, and for the first time tonight, you felt a bit of the tension dissolve. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good. You were starting to enjoy yourself again.

“You know,” Maggie said, her voice cutting through the chatter as she leaned toward you, “I never thought I’d see the day, but I think Glen’s actually winning me over.” Her teasing smile made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t deny that there was something endearing about the way he was engaging with everyone.

Glen grinned, clearly pleased by the compliment. “Well, I aim to please,” he said smoothly, sending a wink Maggie’s way before turning to Taylor’s boyfriend, Lucas, who had just shared a funny story about a mishap at work. Glen jumped right into the conversation, laughing along with the group, and before long, the entire table was at ease, chatting, laughing, and passing around drinks.

As the evening progressed, your glass had been refilled a few times, and the warmth from the drinks had made you a little looser, more relaxed. But you could feel the buzz starting to hit you, the tipsy weight settling in, and you knew it was probably time to call it a night soon.

A voice from the other side of the table broke through your thoughts. “Another round, anyone?” Lucas asked, his hand raised toward the bartender.

You smiled but shook your head, giving a small chuckle. “I think I’m good for now,” you said, but your voice was a bit more playful than you intended. “I need to slow down if I’m getting myself home tonight.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, Glen’s gaze snapped to you. His brow furrowed for a moment before his lips curled into a smirk. “Oh no, no, no,” he said, shaking his head as he placed his hand on your arm in a gentle but firm way. “Not happening. I’m not letting you drive after all that tequila. I’m driving you home tonight.”

Your eyes widened for a moment, surprised at his sudden offer. “You’re taking me home?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “

“Yeah, me.” Glen replied smoothly, his voice playful. “I’ll make sure you get home safe and sound.”

You glanced over at your friends, who were all nodding in agreement, clearly amused by Glen’s sudden shift into ‘knight in shining armor.’ You couldn’t help but smile a little, the warmth from the alcohol making the whole situation feel lighter.

“Alright, fine,” you said with a sigh, giving him a playful look.

The night had started winding down, the boisterous laughter and endless rounds of drinks giving way to softer conversations and a general sense of contentment. You leaned back in the booth, your cheeks warm from the tequila and the laughter that had filled the evening. The air in the bar felt a little heavier now, and you knew it was time to call it a night.

Maggie glanced at her phone and let out a low whistle. “Alright, it’s officially way past my bedtime,” she said, sliding out of the booth. “You’re lucky we love you, or I wouldn’t still be out at this hour.”

You grinned at her, your head buzzing just enough to make your movements feel slower. “I appreciate your sacrifice, Mags.”

One by one, your friends began gathering their things, exchanging hugs and goodbyes. Glen stood off to the side, his hands in his pockets, patiently waiting while you said your farewells.

Taylor, always the protective one, lingered a little longer. She turned toward Glen, her expression a mix of playful and serious. “You’d better take care of her, Hollywood” she said, jabbing a finger in his direction.

Glen raised his hands in mock surrender, a grin on his face. “I’ve got her.”

Taylor narrowed her eyes at him, clearly still skeptical, but you stepped in before she could say anything else. “Taylor, I’m fine. He’s fine. Stop trying to scare him.”

“I don’t scare that easily,” Glen quipped, but his tone was lighthearted, and even Taylor cracked a smile as she gave you one last hug.

With the goodbyes finally wrapped up, you turned back toward Glen, feeling a little unsteady on your feet as you grabbed your jacket.

“Okay, let’s go,” you said, your voice softer now, the buzz of the evening starting to settle into a tired warmth.

Glen didn’t say a word, just stepped closer and gently placed his arm around your shoulders. The gesture felt surprisingly natural, his hand resting lightly as he steered you toward the door. You could feel the heat of his touch through the fabric of your jacket, grounding you as the two of you walked out of the bar.

The cool night air hit your face as you stepped outside, and you breathed it in deeply, relishing the way it sobered you just slightly. Glen’s arm stayed firmly around you as he led you to his truck parked just down the block.

“Did you have fun?” he asked, glancing down at you, his voice soft against the quiet of the night.

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, I did,” you admitted, your voice a little hazy but sincere. “Even if you did crash the party.”

He chuckled, his grip on you tightening just slightly as if to steady you. “Is it crashing when I was invited?”

“It is when you show up late. Maggie had basically uninvited you, you know?”

Glen laughed softly, the sound warm and deep in the stillness of the night. “Maggie never liked me much anyway,” he teased. “Pretty sure she was just looking for an excuse.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “That’s because she thinks you’re too cocky for your own good.”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Well, she’s not wrong. But if memory serves, you kind of like that about me.”

You snorted, pretending to be unimpressed, but your smile gave you away. “Maybe I’ve just gotten used to it.”

Glen stopped walking for a moment, pulling you gently to a halt as well. His hand slid from your arm to your lower back, steadying you as you swayed slightly on your feet. “Used to it, huh?” he murmured, his tone playfully skeptical. “Guess I’ll take that as a win.”

You glanced up at him, the soft glow of a streetlamp illuminating the curve of his jaw and the faint stubble dusting his skin. “Don’t let it go to your head,” you warned, though the faint smile tugging at your lips betrayed the sharpness of your words.

He grinned, leaning in just enough to close the distance between you. “Too late.”

Before you could respond, he began walking again, his arm still snug around your waist. The rhythm of your steps fell into an easy cadence, and the quiet between you felt comforting rather than awkward.

As his truck came into view, Glen broke the silence. “So, Maggie’s got her opinions about me,” he said, his tone light but curious. “What about you? Think I’m too cocky for my own good?”

You glanced at him sideways, your expression caught somewhere between teasing and genuine. “I think you’re...” You trailed off, pretending to give it serious thought. “Complicated.”

“Complicated?” He raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “That’s not exactly glowing praise.”

“It’s not an insult either,” you countered, shrugging. “It just means you’ve got layers.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You make me sound like an onion.”

You laughed, your voice light and unguarded. “Maybe. But onions can be sweet, too.”

By the time you reached the truck, Glen had that playful smirk back on his face, but there was something softer in his gaze as he looked at you. He opened the passenger door, his hand brushing your arm lightly as he helped you climb in.

“Sweet, huh?” he murmured as you settled into the seat. “I’ll take that.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth blooming in your chest was impossible to ignore.

The truck came into view, and Glen pulled his arm away just long enough to open the passenger door for you. He held out his hand to help you climb in, his touch steady and warm.

“Alright,” he said once you were settled in. “Let’s get you home.”

You leaned back in the seat, your head resting lightly against the window as you watched him round the front of the truck to the driver’s side. There was something about the quiet way he moved, the care he took in making sure you were okay, that made the lingering frustration in your chest soften just a little more.

As the engine roared to life and the truck pulled away from the curb, you couldn’t help but glance over at him, a thousand thoughts swirling in your tequila-clouded mind.

The hum of the truck’s engine filled the quiet as Glen drove through the mostly empty streets, the city lights casting faint shadows on your face. You felt the tequila working its way through your system, loosening your thoughts and your tongue. The warmth in your chest wasn’t just from the alcohol—it was Glen’s presence, steady and comforting, that made you feel safer than you wanted to admit.

You glanced over at him, his profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. “You know something?” you said softly, your words slurring ever so slightly.

“What’s that?” Glen asked, his eyes flicking toward you briefly before returning to the road.

“I think you might be my favorite person,” you admitted, leaning your head against the window and smiling to yourself. The words felt easy, natural, like they’d been sitting on the tip of your tongue for years.

Glen let out a low chuckle, glancing at you again with an amused expression. “Your favorite person, huh? That’s a big title to hand out. What about Maggie? Or Taylor?”

You rolled your eyes, though the smile stayed on your lips. “I’m serious,” you insisted, turning your head to look at him. “You’ve always been there for me. You show up when it matters. Well, except for last night.” The teasing lilt in your voice faltered at the end, the weight of your lingering disappointment creeping back in.

Glen’s playful smirk softened, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “About last night—”

You cut him off with a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “It’s... I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” he said firmly, glancing at you again. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

You hesitated, your fingers twisting in your lap. The alcohol buzzed in your veins, giving you just enough courage to let the words slip out before you could stop them. “All I want is for you to look at me the way you look at her.”

Glen’s brows furrowed as he processed your words. “Her? What are you talking about?”

You huffed, leaning back against the seat and avoiding his gaze. “Alanna. Last night. You were looking at her like she hung the moon or something.”

His confusion deepened as he shook his head. “I wasn’t—wait, you saw those pictures? You think I—”

“Forget it,” you muttered, waving a hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” Glen said, his tone insistent now. He glanced at you, his voice softening. “Hey, talk to me. Please.”

You bit your lip, debating whether to keep the rest of it bottled up or just let it out. Before you could second-guess yourself, the words spilled out in a rush. “I love you, Glen.” The air in the truck seemed to still, your confession hanging heavily between you. You didn’t stop, the floodgates open now. “I love you, and I hate it. I hate that I feel this way because you’re... you’re the total package, Glen. And I’m just... me. You’re way out of my league, and it’s stupid, and I wish I didn’t feel this way, but I do.”

For a moment, Glen didn’t say anything, his silence deafening. Then, he let out a light laugh, shaking his head. “Okay, you’ve definitely had too much to drink. You’re just saying that because you’re tipsy.”

His attempt at brushing it off felt like a slap, and your chest tightened painfully. You laughed bitterly, though it sounded more like a choke. “Right. I’m just drunk.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that,” Glen said quickly, his tone shifting to concern.

“It’s fine,” you said sharply, turning to stare out the window, your body stiff with regret. “Just take me home. Please.”

Glen opened his mouth to say something else, but the set line of your jaw and the way you refused to look at him made him think better of it. The rest of the drive was silent, the easy warmth from earlier replaced by a tense, aching quiet.

When Glen pulled into your driveway, you were already unbuckling your seatbelt and reaching for the door handle, eager to put some distance between you and the awkwardness still hanging in the air.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said quickly, your voice clipped as you stepped out of the truck. You didn’t wait for him to respond before heading toward your front door, your keys jingling in your shaky hand.

“Hey, wait up,” Glen called, catching up to you in a few long strides.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, fumbling with your keys. “You don’t need to come in. It’s late. You should go.”

Glen’s hand gently closed over yours, stilling your movements. “Hold on a second.”

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to see the pity or confusion—or worse, the rejection—in his eyes.

“What?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You said you love me,” Glen said, his voice equally soft but steady. “Did you mean it?”

You let out a strained laugh, trying to tug your hand free. “Like you said, I’ve had too much to drink. Don’t read into it, okay?”

“Stop,” he said, his tone firmer now. He stepped closer, his presence warm and steady. “Don’t brush it off. I need to know. Did you mean it?”

Your throat tightened as tears prickled behind your eyes. You swallowed hard, shaking your head as if that could somehow make the whole moment disappear. But Glen wasn’t letting go—not of your hand, not of this conversation.

“Fine. Yes I meant it,” you finally bit out, your voice trembling. “I do love you. Happy now?” You felt the tears welling up, threatening to spill over as you stared down at the ground, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. “It doesn’t matter, Glen. You don’t have to say anything. Just... let’s forget this, okay?”

Glen didn’t let you retreat. Instead, his hand tilted your chin up, gently forcing you to meet his eyes. His expression wasn’t one of pity or discomfort—it was something softer, something that made your breath catch.

“You think that’s a bad thing?” he asked quietly, his thumb brushing lightly along your jaw.

You blinked, stunned by the question. “What?”

Glen took a small step closer, closing the space between you. “You think loving me is a bad thing?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out.

“I’ve liked you for a while now,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I didn’t…I was scared you didn’t feel the same way, and I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

Your breath hitched as he reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch was so gentle, so tender, that it made your heart ache.

Impulsively, you leaned in, closing the distance between you and Glen. But before your lips could meet, he gently stopped you, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders to keep you from leaning in further.

“Not like this,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You frowned, your cheeks flushing. “Why not?”

Glen chuckled, his thumb brushing lightly over your shoulder. “Because you’ve been drinking. And I don’t want our first kiss to be something you regret or something you can blame on tequila.”

You pouted, the alcohol in your system making your emotions harder to control. “I wouldn’t regret it.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” he said, his smile growing as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “But I want it to happen when you’re sober. When you’re completely sure about what you want.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

Glen laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, I’ve been told.” He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “We’ll talk more in the morning, okay? Get some rest.”

You sighed, but a small smile tugged at your lips as you nodded. “Fine.”

“Goodnight, munchkin,” he said, his voice warm.

He took a few steps down the path toward his truck, hands shoved deep into his pockets. But something in the air stopped you, a shift in the quiet between you both that pulled you back.

“Glen?” Your voice came out more fragile than you intended, halting him in his tracks.

He turned, brows furrowing in mild confusion. “Yeah?”

You shifted your weight nervously, feeling the weight of the moment. “Would you... stay? I mean, just for tonight. On the couch,” you added, the words tumbling out faster than you'd meant.

His brow raised, caught off guard. Then a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, soft and understanding. “Are you sure?”

Heat rushed to your face, and you swallowed. “Yeah, I just—” you glanced down, unsure how to explain. “I’d feel better with you here. That’s all.”

He studied you for a moment, then took a step back toward you, his smile gentle but sincere. “Okay,” he said, his voice low. “I’ll stay.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, offering him a small, grateful smile.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Glen said as he put a hand on your back and guided you through the dimly lit hallway.

“You don’t have to,” you murmured, your words a little slurred as you swayed on your feet. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” Glen said with a teasing smile, but his tone was gentle, careful, as though he was holding back. “But humor me, okay?”

You reached your bedroom, and he paused just inside the doorway, his hand still warm at the small of your back. He lingered there for a moment, watching you with an unreadable expression. “Think you can manage, or do you need some help?”

You nodded, though your movements weren’t exactly graceful. A soft chuckle escaped Glen’s lips as he crouched down and carefully removed your shoes, setting them neatly to the side as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I’ve got it,” you said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and fumbling with your jacket, your fingers a little uncooperative.

“Uh-huh,” Glen replied, his gaze never leaving you. His eyes softened as he watched you struggle with the zipper for a moment before he stepped closer, his hands moving with a calm efficiency as he undid it and eased the jacket from your shoulders.

He straightened, giving you a pointed look. “Want to argue about this too, or can I just help you?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Glen’s grin widened, and he moved to pull back the blankets, gesturing for you to lie down. You sank into the mattress, the cool sheets pressing against your warm skin like a balm. His hands were gentle as he tucked the blanket around you, slow and deliberate, as though trying to make you feel as safe and comfortable as possible.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper now.

You nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion of the night started to pull you under. “Thanks, Glen. For… everything.”

He lingered for a moment, his gaze soft, his eyes searching your face as if trying to memorize the moment. Then, his fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead, warm against your skin.

“Get some rest,” he murmured. “I’ll be right out here if you need anything.”

He straightened, his presence still warm in the room even as he moved toward the door. He pulled it halfway shut behind him, the sound almost imperceptible. You barely had time to notice before sleep claimed you, his presence lingering like a comforting weight, filling the quiet space with an unspoken promise.

* * * * *

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the cocoon of blankets wrapped snugly around you, a comfort you didn’t remember arranging for yourself. Blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, you took a moment to orient yourself.

The events of the night before came rushing back in fragments—Your confession, Glen’s confession, your own vulnerability.

With a groan, you rolled onto your side, pressing your face into the pillow. Embarrassment washed over you in waves, but it was tempered by something softer: the memory of Glen tilting your chin, his thumb brushing your jaw, and his quiet admission that he’d been in love with you for a while.

Pushing yourself up, you padded out of your room, your footsteps quiet on the hardwood floor. You froze when you reached the living room.

Glen was sprawled out on the couch, his long frame somehow folded in a way that almost looked comfortable. A blanket you vaguely recognized from the back of the closet was draped over him, and his face was soft with sleep, his features relaxed and boyish. His arm rested on his chest, rising and falling in time with his even breaths.

Your heart squeezed, a rush of warmth and affection flooding through you. For a moment, you just stood there, watching him, your lips curving into a small smile.

Shaking your head, you tore your gaze away and headed to the kitchen. You busied yourself with the coffee maker, the familiar routine grounding you as your thoughts raced.

The sound of footsteps made you glance over your shoulder. Glen appeared in the doorway, his hair adorably mussed and his eyes still heavy with sleep. He leaned against the doorframe, a lazy grin tugging at his lips.

“Morning,” he said, his voice gravelly.

“Morning,” you replied, turning back to the coffee maker. You focused on pouring two mugs, hoping the act would calm the sudden flutter in your chest.

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with the weight of unspoken words. You handed him a mug, your fingers brushing his briefly, and he murmured a quiet thanks.

As you sipped your coffee, Glen set his down on the counter, crossing his arms as he leaned back against it. His gaze was steady, unwavering, and it made your stomach flip.

“So,” he began, his tone casual but his eyes serious, “are we going to talk about last night?”

You stiffened, your grip tightening around your mug. “What about it?” you asked, your voice a little too light, a little too forced.

Glen arched a brow. “You know what I’m talking about.”

You sighed, setting your mug down on the counter with a soft clink. “I think I made a fool of myself, and I’d rather just pretend it didn’t happen.”

His expression softened, and he took a step closer. “You didn’t make a fool of yourself.”

You avoided his gaze, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Look…I said a lot of things I probably shouldn’t have.”

“You mean the part where you said you love me?” he asked, his voice gentle.

Your head snapped up, your cheeks flushing. “Glen—”

“Because if you did mean it,” he interrupted, his tone earnest, “then we really need to talk about it.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his gaze making it impossible to look away. “I... I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just—last night, it all came out. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Glen’s lips quirked into a small smile. “You seemed pretty clear to me.”

“Glen,” you said, exasperation creeping into your tone. “This is exactly what I was afraid of. I don’t want to ruin what we have. I can’t lose you. And I can already tell that things are different. You’re being all weird about it.”

He stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. “You’re not going to lose me,” he said firmly. “But we can’t just ignore this.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. “What if this changes everything?”

Glen reached out, his fingers brushing yours. “Maybe it’s supposed to,” he said softly.

The honesty in his eyes, the quiet strength in his words—it made your chest ache. You wanted to believe him, to trust that taking this leap wouldn’t send you crashing to the ground.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice trembling. “Let’s talk.”

A slow, relieved smile spread across his face. “Good. Because there’s a lot I need to say.”

“Why don’t you start? What do I need to know about what you said last night?” He asked.

Your heart pounded as you scrambled for something coherent to say. “I, uh… I wasn’t sure if we needed to… I mean…”

Glen’s amused chuckle cut through your nervous rambling, and you looked up to see his familiar grin. His hazel green eyes softened as he stepped closer, plucking the mug from your hands and setting it on the counter.

“Hey,” he said gently, tilting his head to catch your gaze. “Relax. You’re overthinking this. It’s just me. Just talk to me.”

You swallowed hard, trying to tamp down the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. “I just don’t know if you—if we’re—”

Glen interrupted again, this time by pulling you into a warm, steady hug. His arms wrapped around you like they belonged there, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

“Okay let’s try something else. I meant everything I said last night,” he murmured, his voice low and steady near your ear. “Did you?”

“Yes.” You hesitated, your cheek pressed against his chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm against your own. “But…where does that leave us?”

Glen pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. His expression was earnest, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced with something deeper, more serious.

“I’d like to see where this goes,” he said simply, his tone confident yet careful. “If you’re okay with that.”

Your chest tightened, warmth spreading through you like sunlight breaking through clouds. “I’d like that too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

A slow smile spread across Glen’s face, one that made your knees feel a little weaker. He reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Good,” he said softly, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek.

Then, as if drawn by some invisible force, he leaned in. You met him halfway, your lips finding his in a kiss that was both familiar and completely new. It wasn’t rushed or hesitant, just easy and natural, like it had always been meant to happen.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. “So… does this mean you think you’re officially off the hook for last night?”

Glen chuckled, his hands sliding down to your waist. “I don’t know about that. I think I’m gonna have to work a little harder to earn full forgiveness.”

You smirked, your hands resting lightly on his chest. “You’re lucky I’m a sucker for you, Glen.”

“And you’re lucky I plan on spending a lot of time making the last few days up to you,” he replied, his tone playful but his eyes shining with sincerity.

Before you could come up with a witty reply, Glen’s expression shifted, the teasing glimmer in his eyes giving way to something more intense. He leaned in again, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips pressed to yours.

This kiss was different—deeper, more deliberate. Your heart skipped a beat as warmth bloomed in your chest. Without thinking, your arms lifted, wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer, as if letting go wasn’t an option.

Glen’s hands slid to your waist, his touch firm yet careful, grounding you as he gently pulled you against him. The world around you seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet kitchen, bathed in soft morning light.

When the kiss finally broke, you stayed close, your forehead resting against his as you both caught your breath. A faint smile tugged at Glen’s lips, and his thumb brushed lightly against your jaw.

As the morning light filtered through the kitchen window, the air between you felt lighter, filled with the promise of something new and exciting. Whatever came next, you had a feeling it was going to be worth the wait.

#Glen Powell #Glen Powell Fic #Glen Powell Fanfic #Glen Powell Fanfiction #Glen Powell x reader #Glen Powell x you

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markscherz · 8 months ago

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Can I ask how you feel about your Tumblr fame?

I get the impression you just made this account for normal casual funsies reasons, but it kinda blew up by happenstance. If that's right, I'm curious if now you feel like it's kind of a more serious thing, where you have an opportunity to sorta act as a science communicator with a reach you otherwise might not?

Or maybe something else? You gonna see if you can somehow leverage your Tumblr fame to get research funding? Deputize us to harass polluters and developers destroying habitats? Crowdsource name ideas for new species?

It's a bit bizarre, in that it has very little real-world-ness to it. I showed my mother the ongoing tumblr celebrity poll, and she was like 'how many people could possibly be interested in frogs?', to which I replied 'well as of today about 46,000 and counting'.

I have always had an unhealthy relationship with fame. I spent most of my teen and young adult life fawning after it, as is I suppose very often the case.

More after the cut…

I always really wanted to be famous, but I was never really interested in changing who I was or what I represented in that pursuit. That is to say, I wanted to be known for what I was already doing, or for things that were already interesting for me, rather than things that might have much higher chances of success but require more effort or be less in line with the things that I am interested in.

I had my first brush with virality in 2012, when a poem I wrote went a little viral (largely thanks to StumbleUpon). I remember the rush of seeing how much attention it was getting, and staying up late to keep refreshing the page as the visitor numbers went up and up and up.

But not long after that, I had some closer encounters with fame and people becoming famous. That was extremely eye-opening. I witnessed first hand how strongly that can affect someone's life, for good and for bad. That experience also made me realise, quite jarringly, that famous people are still just people; that celebrity is something extrinsic to them; that they also wipe their own butts (if they are able); and that in many cases, it is a substantial inconvenience if not downright pain in the ass for them. I think this is why we see so many of the big celebrities having mental health crises or trying to live as much of their lives out of the public eye as possible.

That experience pretty much stifled my desire to achieve fame, and really changed my relationship with it. I should add that I could say much more on this topic, but nothing so coherent or insightful as John and Hank Green, who have given me so much clarity on this topic over the years through their thoughtful commentary on youtube and their podcasts.

Anyway, in spite of the fact that fame itself doesn't really appeal to me anymore, I do still have a problem wherein I quickly became addicted to the microdosing of euphoria associated with every reblog and like and follow. So I put huge efforts into social media in order to try to gain traction in the space that I felt I could really compete in—Very Niche SciComm™—and build up a following.

Tumblr was the first platform where I felt that really succeed; I managed to fight my way to a few thousand followers with a thick queue of regular posts about herpetology and other science. At that time, there was a great community building up in the rudimentary private messaging system—I am still friends with several other tumblr bloggers from that era (none of whom I have ever met in person). From that early time (2013), I think my most successful post was probably this one about germination of 32,000 year old seeds—a post that, as of today, has 836 notes, but at the time felt huge and exhilarating.

As I went through gradschool, I got more and more active on twitter, and less and less active on tumblr (by the time I wound down, I had about 8,000 followers on tumblr). This was partly because of the pornbot takeover on tumblr, which meant I basically could not go on the platform in public or at work, but also because the audience and interactions are just fundamentally different. Twitter had a different kind of vibe and energy than tumblr, and there were real SciComm experts there, who were doing it just completely differently. More importantly, I became more focussed on doing outreach aimed at colleagues, rather than non-experts.

Then, in 2017, I hit headlines for the first time. The description of Geckolepis megalepis made it big on social and traditional media, and I had my first experience with real media attention. I had a flurry of late-night phone-calls with journalists in the US. This was a different animal altogether than the few viral posts I had had until that point. It was extremely stressful, but exhilarating. Then in 2018, our chameleon fluorescence story made similar headlines, and in 2019 the Mini frogs, and in 2021 with gecko fluorescence and the smallest chameleon.

Seeing my name on the BBC News website and in the New York Times and National Geographic—those things have been the most surreal moments of near-fame I have experienced so far. The number of followers on social media is quite difficult to conceptualise, but seeing your own name in a media outlet that you consume regularly, or have grown up with, is more palpable.

In any case, I continued to run with twitter as my main platform for years, because I found the interaction with colleagues and other academics highly stimulating. In 2021, I even posted a twitter thread about a different species of frog from Madagascar every day for the full year. All this work was ultimately greeted with mediocre success; I just crested over 10,000 followers a few months before the Musth takeover. But then the platform became basically unusable. And in the fallout, I came back to tumblr, where, just by chance, I happened to find a post about the Mini frogs and reply to it and it went properly viral and now here we are. In the space of a year, I went from having 8000 followers to having >46,000.

How do I feel about that? It's bonkers. I think it is great that so many people are interested in hearing the Good News about frogs and other creatures. But I also feel like I am not really on the same playing field as most of the others in that poll mentioned above, in that I do not have any of the celebrity that several others have. And I know for a fact that there are fanblogs with far, far larger followings than I have. But perhaps that is the great thing about tumblr; that the playing field is somehow levelled…

What's the point of this ramble? Well, first I guess it is to outline that I have given fame a lot of thought over the years, and I have a long-standing and complicated relationship with it, and take it quite seriously. Second, to illustrate that I have been working on as a science communicator or person in outreach for many years—it has kind of been my social media brand since I started gradschool in 2013. And third, to kind of outline how we got here, because I often feel like you have to know where an arrow has come from in order to figure out which direction it will continue to fly.

You asked if I would somehow try to leverage my tumblr fame to get research funding—I already do that. In fact, my social media activity had a signfiicant role in landing me my current job, and will continue to help me achieve tenure. Outreach is an important part of my job, and funders like it too.

I would love to have the community-building power and tenacity of the brothers Green; Nerdfighteria has achieved some incredible things over the years, and the power of that community is now being seen at an unprecedented scale in their battle for equitable access for tuberculosis diagnosis and treatment. But I do not have that in me; this platform is the wrong one for community activation, and my community is still too small for that. Moreover, it is not organised or structured, in the way that I think effective deputisation would require.

As for the crowdsourcing of name ideas, that is currently off the table. I like to try to name things on my own or with my colleauges; it is a very good part of the process. And I have yet to hear a suggestion for a Mini species epithet that I had not already come up with myself, so I am not convinced that this would really augment the experience.

So for now, I hope that the main way I use the platform, and the power that comes with a few thousand followers, will be to spread the Good News about frogs and other wonderful animals, and the other kinds of science happening around us (and occasional other off-topic content). I hope that you are encouraged to explore the world around you, and to do your own reading to find out more about the subjects that interest you. And also I will continue to try to make meme-worthy content, because it does nice, if addictive, things in my brain when I get the clicks.

Thanks for asking, anon, and sorry for the Wall of Text.

#fame #famous people #celebrity #about me #science #herpetology #wall of text #long post #personal #answers by Mark #anon #anonymous

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

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Just Friends: Sleepover

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: Bucky sleeps over.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Should be good as new,” Bucky sits back on the footstool and rubs his neck. “Don’t know about me, though.”

You lean on the counter with a sheepish smile, “I told you, I’d call the landlord.”

“Uh huh? And try to light this thing in the meantime? You’d set yourself on fire,” he closes the over door and stands. “I like you unsinged, dreamy.”

“I have a microwave,” you roll your eyes.

“Oh, you mean the one that sparks and sounds like military tank?” He challenges as he packs up his toolbox.

“It makes the food hot,” you rebuff.

“Uh huh. Maybe the radiation is getting to ya,” he teases as he puts the box on the counter.

He stretches his arms and as he brings them down, he yawns, covering his mouth. He turns his other wrist to check the time.

“God, it’s late,” he says.

“Is it--” you choke on your words as you see the time on the stove. “Oh gosh, Buckyyy.” You whine. “You shouldn’t have stayed so long.”

“And let you burn this place down? You’re going to give me flashbacks. God, I think it was... 1938. Steve was living with his ma still, taking care of her, and he left some newspapers by the stove...”

“1938...” you echo. “Right, I’m not going to say it.”

“You better not,” he pokes you in the ribs playfully. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t waste any more of your time. You know, I’ll be just fine walking through the dark. I might get overtime pay if I can wrangle in some hoodlums--”

“Oh, stop,” you huff, “I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow. I know the couch is a bit small.”

“Ah, doll, you don’t gotta--”

“God, you sound like such an old man. ‘Doll, you want a lozenge?’” You mock as you throw your hands up. “Can’t anyone do something nice for you?”

“What? What do you mean? I’m joshing ya,” he follows you as you spin and march out of the kitchen.

“Sure, I know. Always a joke with you.”

“What is this about? The date?” He asks.

“Well... I thought you’d be more excited,” you shrug. “I was really excited for you. Now I feel like I’m forcing you.”

“You kinda are,” he leans again the wall as you open the closet, the door blocking him from your view.

“Forcing you to go out with a sophisticated, gorgeous, woman? I know, it’s torture.”

“Trust me, I know what torture is. It’s not a joke,” he crosses his arms. You blanch.

“I-- sorry, I didn’t mean--” you stutter as you kick the door shut.

He laughs, “got ya again.” He taps the end of your nose then takes the blanket from you. “Relax, I said yes. I’ll put on a tie and comb my hair. Look human.”

“Awesome,” you smile and he squints.

“Mm, and you always do that,” he accuses. “Those puppy dog eyes.”

“I’m more of a cat person,” you giggle. “There’s a pillow on the back of the couch and—oh, want a hot chocolate. I usually have one before bed.”

“Hot chocolate?” He repeats as he goes to the couch and drops the blanket on top.

“Sure! I got the oreo stuff.”

“Nah, I’m good,” he sits and rolls his shoulder.

“Well, you snooze, you lose. More for me,” you tilt your head and skip back into the kitchen. You flip the kettle on and sweep back into the living room.

“What about you?” Bucky asks before you can leave him. “You still coming? You find someone?”

“Oh, I’ll be there but I’m still looking for a date,” you say. “Don’t worry, I got a few ideas.”

“Right, lined up the block, huh?”

You stick your tongue out and flit into the bedroom, “whatever.”

You close the door behind you and change into your pajamas. The fluffy pink shorts go perfectly with the tee with the bunny on the front. You step into your slippers and go back out.

As you come out, Bucky pushes his hair back and groans. He has his shirt off as he sits back and pushes his arms wide. He cracks his neck again as your eyes meet.

“Last call for hot chocolate?” You offer.

“No thanks,” he says as he leans forward.

You smile and scurry into the kitchen. The tension rises with the steam of the kettle. You weren’t expecting to see him like that. Well, it’s just his chest and his abs. Abs? He has abs. Holy moly.

You look down and poke your pudge. Maybe he can give you some tips. You peel back the lid from the canister of chocolate powder; a start would be cutting down on the sweets.

The hardwood shifts and his footsteps circles around to the kitchen door. You glance over as you spoon the mix into a mug. You put the lid back on and shove the can back into the cupboard.

“Water?” He asks.

“Sure, fridge,” you point.

The kettle clicks and you take it of its heater. You pour and glance over as Bucky pulls open the fridge. He bends to search the mostly bare shelves. You’re overdue for a shop.

“The jug should be--” the water laps over the side of the mug and hits your fingers. “Ow! Ayeee!”

You slam the kettle down and shake your hand. Bucky’s so fast, you squeal as he grabs you and spins you to face the sink. He flips the cold water on and shoves your hand under the flow. You whine again at the frigid splash.

“Ah, Bucky, I’m fine. It’s just a little water,” you tug but he keeps a hold of you.

“I told you to be careful,” he huffs. “You should pay attention.”

“I was trying to help,” you say.

“And I’m tryna help you stay outta trouble,” he reproaches.

“I’m okay. Really, it’s nothing.” You shut off the tap and wriggle free of his grasp. “See?”

The burn stings but it’s nothing you can’t handle. You’re more affected by his suddenness. You can feel his hard strength throbbing in your wrist. If he didn’t want to let go, he wouldn’t have to. That thought needles behind your ears.

He drops his shoulders, “sorry, dream. Really. I was just... you scared me, you know? I hear ya make those noises and I get a bit... uptight.”

You exhale and give a small smile, “no, I... appreciate it. I mean, you can’t turn hero mode off, can ya?”

He chuckles and the air thins, “yeah. Guess that’s what you can call it.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #drabble #just friends #mcu #marvel #winter soldier #captain america #avengers #dark!bucky barnes

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getitoutofmymindwrites · 11 months ago

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The crushing | joel miller x f!reader, 5.2k

Summary: This is the story of a man who had everything in the palm of his hand and traded it all for an empty space in the hollow of his heart. Or This story follows Joel, two to three years after he cheated on his wife.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST, cheater!Joel, Joel's POV, this is NOT “The Falling” from Joel's POV, brief mention of smut (p i v) but nothing too graphic (I think), self-loathing, depression, therapy, flashbacks and memories from the past, alcohol consumption, Tommy being a supportive brother (eventually), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Ok, so, Joel gave me a whiplash on this one, he was either staring at me through the screen giving me nothing, or he was mumbling unintelligibly in my ear while I was trying to keep up with him. It started out as a final chapter, but I really think that this part should be Joel's POV and the next and -probably- final one should be the resolving, however that may come. I guess it can be read as a standalone, but if you're interested, it's a sequel to “The Falling”. I edited it seven thousand times because I kept adding things along the way, so I hope it all makes some sense and there are not too many mistakes.. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

P.S.: I just wanted to take a moment and let you know that I really appreciate everyone who has read, liked, commented, reblogged and asked about “The Falling”. I honestly didn't think a single soul would take the time to read that kind of story. It means more than you know and I didn’t take lightly how close to home this fic hit for some people; yet you’ve given it a chance, sharing some of your own experiences with me. I love you all, take care and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! 🥹🫂

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

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...need your reassurance...

...your only focus…

...for the foreseeable future...

He did make it his sole focus. Because of course, he closed the deal, even after he left that damn table like a madman. He still found a way to get what he wanted. That's the man he was. And he wasn't sure if he hated himself for it or not. But self-loathing was a daily occurrence now, so one more reason added to the list was nothing he couldn't handle.

For two years he would wake up every day, is it called waking up if he doesn’t sleep at all?, he would work his ass off, he would go home, he would sink into despair and then he would start all over again the next day. A vicious cycle consisting of 730 days in a row. The deafening silence within the walls of the house was excruciating, the loneliness was unbearable. Even the light penetrating through the windows seemed different than when you were there with him, a dullness surrounding every corner of the now barely lived in space.

You. He hadn’t seen your face in 730 days. He hadn’t smelled your scent or touched your soft skin. He barely listened to your voice anymore, any form of unavoidable communication, you preferred to be conducted by the lawyers, or via text messages, at the most. At the 731st one, he finally knew, something had to change. He couldn’t repeat another day, like all the others that came and went. He simply couldn’t.

Tommy suggested that therapy might help Joel, a few times, but he refused every one of them. Maria was keeping her distance, her place was delicate, being his brother’s wife but also his wife’s best friend. Surprisingly, she was the one who finally got through to him.

“Are you gonna stay a recluse for the rest of your miserable life, then?” Maria wonders, switching her gaze between Joel and the dining room. Everything was untouched, as you left them when you moved out, but the place felt empty, depressing, probably mirroring Joel’s existence.

Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m not a recluse..”, he snarls through his teeth, rolling his eyes at her. He was more than eager to be done with the dinner his sister-in-law insisted on having in his house and be left alone, in his natural state. Alone. Infuriating woman.

“What do you call that?”, Maria persists, goddamn lawyer to the bone.

“What?!” Joel spits back pissed off, looking at his brother next, for support.

“That!” she gestures around his body and his surroundings. “The way you go on for the past two years! Either get over it or do something about it!”, she doesn’t hold back, even when Tommy proposes a gentler approach. Yeah, look where it got you, is the paid answer, so Tommy steps back, shaking his head and raising his hands up in surrender.

“You’ve got him on a leash, hm?”, Joel jokes absentmindedly, “Can you breathe alright, Tommy boy?”, earning himself a hard glare from Maria.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..” Maria mutters, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in horror.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Joel retorts doing a double back at her.

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”, Maria throws her napkin on her plate and leaves the room. Joel remains silent, pondering the meaning of her words. It would be a long time before he understood what she meant.

Therapy was hard.

Therapy was hard because he had to do it for himself. He had to concentrate on himself. He thought, being the contractor that he was, that he would walk into the room, get the answers he needed and fix his marriage, just as he rearranged the bricks and the wood and the steel on the construction sites.

But this wasn’t about his marriage. His marriage and the way it crumbled down was the aftermath, he came to learn. It was the outcome of insecurities, selfishness, lack of communication, ungratefulness.

He got it all wrong. Everything. Every little thing. He had to rewire his brain and change every point of view he was holding onto. Honesty. Honesty was the key.

“Why didn’t you reach out to your wife after that night?”, his therapist insists.

“I respected her boundaries.”, Joel was quick to respond.

“And what were those?”

“She didn’t want to see me.”

“Did she say that?”

“No-, I mean-, the way she left that night, she didn’t say much in general. But she blocked my number, so.”, he shrugs in defence.

“So, how can you be so sure that she didn't want to see you? Even if you're right, it doesn't mean that she didn't expect a reaction from you, or that you weren't allowed to try, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Why would she? I upset her, she needed time to think, work things out.”, Joel explains.

The therapist swipes her fingers over her lips, contemplating her approach. “Joel, you walk into your bedroom, into what is supposed to be a safe place and you see your partner with another person in an intimate moment. How does that make you feel? Just say the first words that come to mind.”, his therapist changes the point of view.

Joel shudders just at the thought of it. You, naked, flushed, lips parted and swollen, skin sweaty, breaths short and pupils blown wide, coming for anyone other than him. It would utterly destroy him. “Furious, pissed, betrayed, heartbroken.. I think I would lose it, if I’m honest.” he admits instantly, in his haste to throw the abomination of this image from his thoughts.

“I see. But in her case, you think your wife was just upset?”

“No, of course not.” Joel slightly frowns, shaking his head.

“Do you think she felt all those feelings that you just described to me?”

“I believe so, yes.”, god this is so hard.

“You believe so?” the therapist pushes, again.

Joel’s nostrils flare from the sharp inhale, “I know so.”

“So, she wasn’t just upset.” the therapist concludes and Joel agrees without meeting her eyes, “No, she wasn’t.”

Over time, Joel came to realize that his choice of words was a subconscious attempt to diminish the seriousness of his actions.

“You said in a previous session that you gave space to your wife to work things out.”

“Yeah, it was only fair.”, Joel confirms.

“So, it was hard for you to give her that space?”

“Yes, of course, I missed her every day.”

“Was that a constant in your relationship?”, the therapist wonders.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“How did you work things out as a couple, before? I assume you had difficult times as partners, no?”

“Nothing major to be honest, my wife was a very calm and reasonable person. If anything occurred she would talk to me about it.”

“And how did you respond to that?”

“Uh, I was there to listen, we always found a solution together as a couple.”

“Hmhm, so, what changed this time?”

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.

“Why didn’t you talk to her? Communicate with her? Maybe help her see your side of things, like you did before, find your way out of this together, as partners.” his therapist explains. “And even before the infidelity, did you let her know that something was bothering you, that you felt differently?”

"I didn't feel differently about my wife. My feelings for her never changed.", he immediately corrects her. "My love for her was never the problem," he confesses and it's the first time since his therapy began that he's shared something so personal, so private.

“But there was a problem, something was wrong if you felt the need to be intimate with another woman. So, why did you keep that from her?”

Joel opens his mouth already knowing he does not have an answer. Or that he doesn't want to give one. He shakes his head, raising his brows in a silent admission that he can’t answer that. Or he won't. His gaze is fixed on a loose thread on the fabric of the couch, his fingers keep picking on it.

“Joel?”

“I- I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t know.” he keeps shaking his head. He can’t answer that. He won't.

He was so angry when he left the session that day. He was so angry at you. He was angry at your honesty, your clarity, your courage to have a mind of your own and to speak it freely, knowing full well that probably no one else shared the same opinions as you did. That's what he loved most about you, but now he hated it.

“Own it, Joel. Own what you have done. At least that way it will be worth something. Otherwise it was all for nothing.”

This was one of the last things you said to him on the phone, while he was trying to persuade you to change your mind about the divorce. You were always so brave about those matters. Matters of the heart, of integrity. He remembers you always talking about things that he found admirable but utopian. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

“I need to be able to sleep at night. I need to own my decisions; not because I’m always right, far from it, but at least I know I’m being honest with myself. And that matters.” he recalls one of your late-night talks.

You usually found it easier to share your most vulnerable thoughts once you were thoroughly fucked and satiated. When Joel held you in his arms, your breaths almost shared over the same pillow, your scents and your fluids mixed together.

“We’re all imperfect beings, flawed; we all feel embarrassed when we fuck up,” you continue, “it’s hard to admit our mistakes to others, I get that. But deep down we always know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Admitting it only helps us to be present in our lives.”

“Be present?”, Joel seems fascinated by the way your mind weaves your thoughts together into deeply rooted beliefs.

“Yes, my love, there's no greater freedom than to live your life truthfully.” you smile at him, softly. Your sleepy eyes roam his face affectionately. Your fingertips caress his jawline, your thumb pressing lightly against the bare patch of his beard. He can feel your devotion pouring from your fingers and sinking into his skin at that moment.

“That’s one of my greatest fears, you know. Living my life in ignorance, in a lie.”, you whisper your deepest insecurity against his soft lips. His hold on you tightens as he rolls you onto your back, nestling his hips between your welcoming thighs. You are safe in these arms. His arms. You surrender to him, body and soul. You can feel his growing erection pressing between your folds, already wet from your combined releases. He tenderly brushes his lips against yours and slowly licks his way into your parted mouth, as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He enters you in one fluid, slow thrust, his warm exhale cooling your wet lips. “Then let me give you something real.”

Thinking back to those moments, Joel couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that he was the one who had brought that fear of yours to life. What broke him was that it was not a lie. Your life together had not been a lie. He loved you. In fact, he was burning up for you. He was a man of control, but not with you. Never with you. You consumed his every thought; being around you for too long made his lungs constrict in pain, begging for a deep breath. Sometimes he was worried sick that if he completely let himself love you like he needed to, he would suffocate you. He loved you. And it killed him that his actions suggested otherwise.

But at some point he had to be honest with himself. He was just protecting his ego. He was trying to get the upper hand out of a shitty, compromising situation. He wasn't being thoughtful, he was being selfish. He was biding his time. He thought the longer he left ‘it’ untouched, the less it would hurt when the inevitable time of confrontation came. He was scared out of his mind that he would lose you forever. No second chances, no redemption, no reconciliation.

No lingering scent on his pillow as your hair pools there, under his chin, as you nestle your face between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. No laughter through the enormous house, damn, why did he build it so big; you never clarified what the disbelief in your eyes meant when he said he built this house for you, while he pulls you up on your feet for a silly cowboy dance.

No more gentle touches, no more noses brushing together as a silent goodbye in the kitchen before you rush off to work. No more turning around just before you open the door to leave, running to him like a little girl, giving him quick, hungry pecks on the lips while he laughs on your mouth, squeezes your butt cheek and slaps it playfully to say goodbye. Later, baby, he would promise you, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and he could feel your skin crawling with anticipation.

No more I love yous, either breathed, either whispered, either panted, as he makes a home for himself inside your warmth.

When did he fuck you last? He used to have you every day. You craved it every day. You craved him. Why did he stop telling you he loved you every chance he got? When was the last time you said it?

A week before that fateful night, when you touched him longingly, aching for him to touch you back and he told you he had work to do, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he sit there and watch the light fading from your eyes? I love you, you said with a sigh against his temple and walked out of his office defeated. Why did you say that? Did you know? Did you suspect? Why didn’t you fight him? You should have said something, anything, pushed him, punched him in the chest, woken him up. Would he have woken up? Or did he need that to come to his senses? Does he have to fall? Does this falling ever stop? Does he have to let you go? Will you come back to him? Does he deserve you?

Days blurred seamlessly into one another. Joel drifted further and further away from everyone. The house haunted him, all the progress he was making within the therapy walls was dissipating once he stepped inside the cold space of his empty house. Leaving the confines of it was his first thought in the morning, while he hurriedly dressed to go to his office far earlier than necessary and his last when he closed his eyes, as he laid his weary limbs on the couch, chasing still your now long gone scent on its fabric, knowing another sleepless night was his only companion until the first rays of sunlight hit the floor-to-ceiling windows to announce the beginning of another day.

People at work tiptoed around him, not knowing how to act. It was as if he was there, but not really. He was focused solely on the Marks project, mechanically going through board meetings, paperwork and supervising the construction site. He. Just. Wasn’t. There.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

He simply stares at the text message for a good full minute, his thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone. This was one of the rare occasions you had initiated communication with him, always about the progress of the divorce.

No, no, I won’t, the little toddler in him screams, stamping his little feet on the ground.

The papers are not ready.

Joel texts back. He keeps it simple, frightened he might not get an answer back.

Joel, we both know they are. I don’t want any of your assets or your money; this is an easy signature, please.

An easy signature? You think he cares about the houses, or the cars, or the money?

You know I can’t accept that. The house is yours and so is a good part of the money.

The point was to share this house together, Joel, don’t you think us splitting up kind of defeats the purpose? And what on earth makes you think I would ever want to go back in there?

So, there’s nothing I can do to make this easier for you?

Easier? You think money or property can make up for what you’ve done?

Of course not, I wasn’t implying anything like that. Just wanna do something for you, anything.

Can you turn back time?

Of course, he can't. So, he doesn't know what to say to that. He just keeps staring at the screen, lost in thought. After 2 minutes another text follows.

You know I can’t..

Sign the papers. Please.

“Is there anything in particular you want to talk about today, or should I take the lead?”

“Actually I’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”, Joel suggests for the first time. He usually lets the therapist decide where to steer the conversation, then simply refuses to elaborate until he feels ready to talk.

“What about it?”, he shifts his gaze from the window to the direction of her voice.

“I should probably rephrase that. I’m always thinking about that night, repeating it in my head again and again and I’m troubled by something I realized.”

His therapist nods to signal that she's listening.

“Why did she just leave? The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense to me. She just left. No shouting, no breaking things, no attacking either me or-”, her. “Why she didn’t stay? Why she didn’t insist that I leave? She was just- so quiet.”

The therapist smiles in recognition of Joel's near breakthrough. They were beginning to get somewhere, his empathy nudging him under the surface.

“I'm really glad you mentioned that, Joel, so I'd like to take you back to that night and try to understand what might have been going through your wife's mind at that moment," she explains.

“So, she walks into the house, finds her safe space violated by her husband, and she chooses to handle the situation calmly and quietly-” Joel tries to stop her, but she already knows what he's going to ask. “I can't tell you why she chose that path, that's for her to answer, only she knows why.” His therapist continues, “She is making one request of you and one request only, can you tell me what it is?”

“She asked me to leave the house.”

“Hmhm.” the therapist looks at him expectantly.

“I just wanted to talk to her.”, Joel elaborates, “I thought that if I refused to leave, she would accept to listen to me.”

“So you forced your needs on her, while she was in a particularly fragile state of mind.”

“I should have made my intentions clearer, you mean?”

“I mean, that maybe you shouldn’t have had any expectations in the first place. Why do you think was so important to you, to explain yourself right at that moment?”

“Because I knew it was probably the last time I would see her for a while, I just wanted to ease her pain, why is that so wrong? Should I be indifferent? Would that be better?”

“Did it ever occur to you that you might be depriving her of her right to choose?” Come on, Joel, break some eggs.

Joel now begins to make connections. He rubs his hand over his face, the realization of what has really happened crushing him. “Oh, god, I-” He's been so selfish from the start. He hasn't shown you any respect, not even at this delicate moment. He didn't give you a choice as to whether you wanted to listen to him or not. He didn't even let you choose where you wanted to stay. He just made you leave the house. Did he make you believe he wanted you to leave? That he wanted her to stay? Because he didn’t. Fuck. “-I never thought about it like that.”

Fuck.

How could he be so blind? Why was he so blind?

His therapist insisted on it. Because no matter how much progress Joel made over the course of a year, he never revealed the true reason behind his infidelity.

“Joel, we’ve talked about a lot of things; you’ve tried really hard to make this all about your wife and about understanding what she was feeling and how your actions have affected her, but as I keep reminding you”, she smiles understandingly, “you’re the one in therapy, you need to heal your wounds before you even attempt to heal hers. And although it is in fact a really noble thought, this” she gestures between them, “can only work if you do it for yourself. I know it may sound selfish, but I promise you, it is not. It is the exact opposite.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”, his voice hoarse from sleep as he answers the door after the insistent knock at it. Tommy looks at him surprised once he opens it, “You’re sleeping, already?”. No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t call it that. But when he goes almost a week without any proper rest, passing out is the right word for what he’s doing. “Yeah, I guess I dosed off..” Joel lies. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Tommy responds as he squeezes himself through the door to enter the house. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”, Joel mutters under his breath. “You just saw me at work this morning, is everything all right?”

“I just came to check on you.” Tommy confesses uncomfortably.

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” Tommy deadpans.

Touché.

“Tell Maria I’m fine, Tommy, no need to worry about me; go spend the night where it counts.”, Joel replies in an attempt to push him away, as he walks farther into the house, rounding the kitchen island.

“Hey, brother, I’m here, I am here for you.” Tommy’s eyes narrow in pain and concern as he stares at his sibling's back, following behind him.

Joel exhales hard through his nose, his grip tight as he grabs the edges of the counter, his head lowering between his shoulder blades.

“You shouldn’t, nobody should.” Joel sighs, rubbing the pads of his fingers across his forehead.

“Ok, that’s enough.” Tommy snaps at him. “Enough self-loathing, enough resignation. Enough. You’ve punished yourself enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “Is that right? Is it enough for you? What about her?” he asks, his head turned to the side, looking at his brother over his shoulder.

“What?” Tommy is genuinely confused.

Joel turns his back, resting his waist on the edge of the counter, now looking straight at Tommy. “I should have what? Just get on with my life? Let it all be water under the bridge? Disrespect her even more?”

“Jesus..” Tommy mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other resting on his hip, his eyes shut in frustration.

“Are you doing this for her? Does she even know that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tommy!” Joel raises his voice, exasperated. “I’m not doing this for her, I’m not doing anything for her, apparently and that’s the problem.”, his voice breaks, the lump in his throat too big to push down. “She’s not here anymore, Tommy.” he’s standing fully on his feet now, pushing himself away from the counter, leaning slightly forward, like he’s trying to make his brother understand; his eyes are glazed, Tommy had never seen him so devastated before. “She’s gone. I’ve lost her.”, his palms clenched in fists in front of his chest, resisting the urge to wrap them around his shirt and rip it to shreds, as he wants to do with his heart.

“I thought therapy was working..” Tommy whispers, his eyes dropping to the floor beneath him.

“Oh, it’s working, all right!” Joel chuckles in irony, sniffing his nose. “I’m getting a front-row seat, witnessing what a piece of shit I am-”

“Hey!” Tommy tries to cut him off.

“-what on earth was she doing with me to begin with, is beyond me.”

“HEY!” Tommy's eyes bulge out of his sockets, angry at his brother's self-deprecating words. Joel bends his waist forward, puts his elbows on the island in front of him and lets his head sink in again.

“Ok.” Tommy breathes deeply to ground himself, his hands in a position of a prayer in front of his mouth, “Ok, we could both use a drink.” he realizes, as he moves to open the cupboard to grab two tumblers and the whiskey from the shelf with the drinks. “..or five.”

The two brothers drink their first round in silence, both calming their nerves down. Tommy refills their glasses without asking; he knows this is going to be a long night.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Tommy begins, pushing Joel’s drink back towards him. Joel wringles his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about? You’re always there for me.”

“No, I haven’t, not really.” Tommy admits, “I let Maria take over when all this happened and I’m sorry.”

“There was nothing you could do, Tommy, don’t sweat it.”

“Let me say this, please.” Tommy raises his hand, his palm facing his brother. “I was just- fuck, we all knew how much you loved her, how much you loved each other, so when it all went down, I just didn’t know how to deal with it. What to say to you, how to comfort you. I didn't know how to deal with you.”

“You blamed me.” Joel says matter-of-factly.

“No-”, Tommy weakly refuses but Joel shakes his head dismissively, interrupting him. “It’s ok, Tommy, you should.”

Tommy looks embarrassed, his cheeks slightly pinkish, not only from the whiskey. “It’s just that I- I couldn’t reconcile the image of the man you were with her, with.. you know..”, he stutters.

“..the image of a cheater. Say it.” Joel adds.

Tommy shakes his head, like he still can't believe what's happened. “Besides, while she was staying with us those first few weeks I saw how devastated she was, man- she was a shell of a woman, so I was confused, I didn’t know how-”

“Tommy. Tommy, it’s fine.” Joel feels his skin crawl visualizing you like that in his head, cutting his brother off once again; he deserves every ounce of mistrust and he knows it.

“No, it’s not.” Tommy insists. “Yes, you fucked up. Brother, you really did. You did a number on her-”, Joel’s body tenses instantly at his brother’s words, his jaw clenching as his eyes darken, moving down to his hands, his grip on the tumbler tightening, his knuckles turning white and Tommy stops abruptly, “shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”, his face twitches with regret.

“It’s the truth. That’s exactly what I did.” Joel’s gaze seems detached as if he's somewhere else right now.

“What I meant to say, is that I should have been there for you in spite of what has happened. I can see you're suffering, it's taking its toll on you, it has been for some time now; tell me what I can do. How can I help you?” Tommy seems almost desperate, like he’s the one in need of redemption.

Your text flashes through his mind, can you turn back time?, making him smile bitterly.

“Can you turn back time?” Joel's repeating your question and as the words leave his mouth he can feel your presence next to him. That's the most he felt of you for the last three years. He's almost blissful.

“You know I can't.” Tommy sighs. Joel laughs earnestly, the irony of the moment too good not to appreciate.

“Joel, brother, please, just talk to me. Help me understand. You act like you’re the one who’s been cheated on. So, what happened? Why did you do it?” Tommy is pleading with him to give him anything.

Silence fills the room for much longer than either of them would like. Joel feels torn between telling his brother everything or keeping his mouth shut. He wants to tell him, he hasn’t told a soul, but he’s not sure he can get the words out. He’s not sure he can bear to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He’s not sure he can substantiate it, make it real. Because that’s how it feels. He talks about it and it becomes real.

But maybe this is the right thing to do. That’s what needs to be done. He needs to talk about it. He needs to tell the truth and admit the pain he’s caused. Make it real for you, too. Perhaps it is time for him to give you what is rightfully yours. Acknowledgment.

Joel’s made up his mind. He’s gonna talk to Tommy. He lifts his glass to down his drink for some liquid courage, freezing his hand in mid-air as the next words fall from his brother’s mouth. “First of all, who was it?”

“What?” Joel's eyes search Tommy’s through his glass for an explanation.

“Who did you do?”, Tommy clarifies.

Joel feels like he’s been struck by lightning. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Who did you fuck, Joel?”, Tommy begins to feel confused, are they not on the same page here?

“You don’t know?”, Joel can barely speak now, his voice low in shock.

“No one does, not even Maria; she never told anyone.”

You told nobody? Not even your best friend? Why on earth would you do that? Did you feel ashamed? Was it just too much to talk about?

But his brain takes pity on him, helping him for once to understand. He’s connecting the dots while your voice fills the corners of his mind through his memories. His head is swarming with images of you standing in that walk-in closet, remembering what you said the last time he saw you. You’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.

You were right.

It didn’t matter who it was. That is why. He was the one making the choice. He was the one breaking his promises, breaking your trust, breaking your heart; breaking you. He was the one who should have known better. He was the one who should have been honest. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

He feels a fresh wave of pain scattering through his body. He welcomes it. Damn, he’s craving it. He’s glad you chose to withhold the identity of the woman. Not because somehow it’s making it easier for him to defend himself, on the contrary.

There’s no one else to blame. Nobody. Just him. All of the anger, the resentment, the disappointment, all of them on him. He embraces them all. Everything. He will take it all, swallow it down and let it rot inside of him.

Joel tells Tommy everything. Everything, but her name.

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