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deliciousangelfestival · 2 days

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The Imperfect Couple - 10

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 ,-

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Feeling the tension rise, Greg nervously tried to leave, but you stepped in. “Don’t!”

“Yes…?” Greg’s voice wavered.

“Don’t tell them I’m pregnant. Because I’m not. I can’t lie about that.” You rubbed your temples, feeling the weight of the situation pressing in on you, even though it was still early in the morning.

You shot a glance at Greg. “Schedule a press conference. Both of us will speak.”

Greg nodded rapidly. “Yes. Yes, that’s great.” He scurried out of the apartment without a second thought.

Bucky muttered under his breath, “I paid millions for this campaign team, and this is what I get.”

You snapped back at him. “No! Don’t change the subject!” Your voice was sharp, frustration burning in your eyes. “All of this is your idea.”

Bucky didn’t flinch, his calm demeanor frustrating you further. “My idea, yes. But it’s your choice now,” he replied, as if everything was calculated in his favor.

“Me? Lying about being pregnant? Have some humility, Bucky!” You threw your hands up in disbelief.

Bucky’s lips curved into a small, calculating smile. “I’m proud of you for making that decision,” he said smoothly, as if this was some twisted game he’d already won. His calmness was unnerving, like he already knew the outcome.

You sighed deeply, your breath heavy with exasperation. Bucky casually walked over to the coffee machine and offered you a cup. You took it, reluctant but exhausted. When you sipped, the familiar taste made you pause. It was perfect—exactly how you liked it. He still remembered.

But even the perfect coffee couldn’t wash away the bitterness and exhaustion hanging over you like a dark cloud.

You set the cup down and looked up at him, your eyes narrowing. “What’s the deal you made with Steve?” The question hung in the air, sharp and deliberate, like a card you were waiting to play.

Bucky leaned back slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “The deal?” He sipped his own coffee, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of something—calculation, maybe? “Let’s just say... Steve’s skeletons are a lot messier than mine. I was always just the distraction.”

There was something chilling in the way he spoke, like he was always one step ahead. You realized then—you were in deeper than you thought.

Bucky took a slow sip of his coffee before setting it down on the table. His gaze stayed sharp, his voice deliberate. “The reason he chose me is simple. I’m the gatekeeper. Let’s be real, picking me as the youngest candidate? That’s a huge risk.”

The opponent was formidable—strong, relentless, and hungry for any opportunity to exploit weakness. So, what other option was there?

Bucky was the safest choice, not just because of his background, but because he held Steve’s deepest secrets—truths that couldn’t be silenced with money or threats. Bucky came from wealth, from power, from a lineage that made him untouchable. Steve knew that. He also knew something else: Bucky’s weakness was you.

Despite the disagreements within the party, Steve silenced the dissenters. He’d calculated every move. Choosing Bucky was risky, but Steve needed someone he could control, someone who could take the fall if necessary.

Bucky knew why he was chosen. He understood the game—Steve, the elder statesman, needed a younger face to shield him from the inevitable attacks. Bucky was to be his defense, the gatekeeper, the distraction.

The rumors about you and Bucky were intentional, designed to take the heat off Steve. Let the world believe Bucky was struggling in his personal life. Let them focus on his public spectacle while Steve worked in the shadows, untouchable.

Edgar and Brock—the opponents—would see the headlines and think Steve had been weakened by Bucky’s scandal. But they were wrong. This was the plan all along.

Bucky would take the blame. He would absorb the media’s attention, while Steve quietly solidified his path to the presidency.

For Bucky, it was more than a political maneuver. Accepting Steve's offer wasn’t just about power—it was his chance to break free from the chains his mother had shackled him with. And it was his chance to get you back.

He knew Steve had calculated his every move, and yet, Bucky had his own agenda. In the end, he wasn’t just a pawn in Steve’s game; he was playing his own, too.

You sighed heavily, rubbing your temples. “This is why I never wanted to cover elections. Everything is rigged.”

Bucky chuckled softly, a knowing look in his eyes. “That’s politics for you, sweetheart. It’s not about being clean—it’s about playing the game better than everyone else.”

You shifted, suddenly feeling the urge to get answers. “What about Steve’s skeletons?” you asked, your voice edged with curiosity.

Bucky had just picked up a chocolate muffin, but he stopped mid-bite. Setting it down, he met your gaze, dead serious. “I’m the only one who knows,” he said quietly. “I can’t tell you. I’ll carry those secrets to my grave.”

His loyalty to Steve was unsettling, a bond you could see ran deep.

“And don’t even think about digging for information,” Bucky warned, his voice firm, eyes hardening. “You’ll put both of us in danger if you try.”

The finality in his tone hit you like a wall. He was serious, and it was clear that stepping into that territory wasn’t just risky—it was deadly.

“Bucky,” you said softly, your voice filled with exhaustion.

“Hmm?” He didn’t look up from his phone, his attention split.

“If I can’t do this anymore... I want to leave.”

The silence that followed was thick. Bucky didn’t respond immediately, didn’t even look up at you. Instead, he remained still, his fingers lightly tapping against his phone. Finally, he spoke, his tone low and measured. “Get ready for the press.”

You sighed heavily, frustration and defeat settling into your chest like a heavy weight. Leave? Could you even escape at this point?

The thought circled in your mind, but Bucky had already made it clear—he wasn’t letting you go that easily. His control, his manipulation—it had all tightened around you like a noose.

And despite everything, despite the lies, the secrets, the betrayal... you could see it in his eyes. He didn’t plan to lose you again.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Soon, you stood next to him in front of a swarm of cameras, bright lights burning into your skin.

Bucky adjusted his suit jacket, offering a polite smile to the flashing lights. He stepped up to the podium, and as soon as he began speaking, it was as if a switch had flipped. The man beside you was no longer just your husband—he had become the perfect politician.

“I want to thank you all for coming here today,” Bucky began, his voice smooth, confident. His gaze swept across the audience, calculated and calm. “Marriage is never easy. It's a journey filled with highs and lows, and like any relationship, it can face... turmoil.”

The word hung in the air, a subtle indication of the cracks beneath the surface.

“Over the last few years, my wife and I have faced our share of challenges. We chose to take separate paths for a time, not because the love was lost, but because we believed it was what we needed. We both needed space to grow as individuals,” he said, pausing to glance at you.

You stood there, silent, watching him weave this narrative so effortlessly. Seeing him like this—so fluent, so convincing—it was almost sickening. He was lying, and yet every word that came from his mouth seemed to be wrapped in a veneer of truth.

“But sometimes,” he continued, “fate brings people back together. We crossed paths again, and in doing so, we rekindled that old romance we once shared. This has not been an easy journey, but we both realized that our love—despite everything—was worth fighting for.”

You forced yourself to stay composed, even as your mind raced. How had he become this person? So skilled in deception, so willing to put on a performance for the world. This wasn’t the man you had married.

This was a man molded by ambition, by politics. He had learned to manipulate truth, to twist it to his advantage. And now, he was using that skill to reshape the story of your marriage.

He went on, his tone softening just enough to appeal to the emotions of the audience. “I know many young couples out there experience similar struggles—times when things seem too difficult to overcome. But I stand here today to tell you that it’s possible. Love is complicated, but it’s also worth the fight.”

The live chat on the screen buzzed with comments, many of them expressing support, calling your relationship ‘inspiring,’ applauding your ‘courage.’ They were buying it. Every single word.

Bucky turned to you, offering a practiced smile. To them, it was a look of adoration. To you, it was a silent warning. Stay in line. Play your part.

As Bucky wrapped up his speech, the room filled with the sound of reporters typing, cameras flashing, and the quiet hum of people whispering. His words had been perfectly delivered—calm, composed, and persuasive. But it was the next moment that truly sealed the deal.

He turned toward you, and for a brief second, his eyes met yours. You could see the flicker of something—regret, perhaps, or exhaustion. But before you could fully process it, he stepped closer. The cameras zoomed in, the world seemed to hold its breath, and Bucky pulled you into a tight embrace.

His hands rested on your waist, steady, as though he were trying to ground himself. You stiffened at first, the tension between you impossible to ignore, but the weight of the press watching forced you to respond. Slowly, you lifted your arms and hugged him back, trying to make it look as natural as possible.

Then, without warning, his lips brushed against yours. A kiss, soft but purposeful, meant to sell the image of a couple rekindling their love. The cameras went wild, and you could feel every flash burning the moment into eternity. But beneath the act, you could sense the hollowness of it all.

"Still think we’re good at pretending?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Bucky’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Maybe it’s not all pretending."

You stayed locked in his arms for a moment longer, both of you playing your roles. To everyone watching, you were the perfect couple, finding your way back to each other. But to you, it felt like a performance—one more layer of the deception you both had to endure.

And yet, for all the pretending, there was an undeniable truth beneath it. The way Bucky held you tighter, as if he needed that connection to steady himself, made it clear. He wasn’t just showing the world something—they both needed this.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Once the press conference ended, you felt drained—emotionally and physically. As you walked off the stage, Bucky’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen and answered immediately.

“Steve,” he greeted, his voice low. You stood beside him, listening quietly.

“Didn’t expect it to go this well,” Steve’s voice crackled through the line. “Good job. I was hoping you could drag this out for a few more days, though.”

Bucky leaned against the table, his tone casual but firm. “I couldn’t do that. My wife’s already pissed about this. I’m not pushing her any further.” His eyes flicked to you as he spoke, his face unreadable.

There was a pause on the other end. Then Steve’s voice came again, smoother this time. “Still, you handled it well. Let’s hope the media stays focused on you two and not... anything else.”

Bucky smirked, the expression barely reaching his eyes. “They will. This whole mess? It’s just a distraction, Steve. You know that.”

Steve chuckled lightly. “I’m counting on it.”

Bucky ended the call without another word, sliding the phone back into his pocket. He turned to you, eyes narrowing slightly. “See? Everything’s under control.” He reached out, his hand resting lightly on your arm, but you pulled away.

Control. That’s what it was always about with him. And for now, he had it. But for how long?

You noticed something you hadn’t before—Bucky’s jaw was clenched, his shoulders tense, and his grip on the phone was tighter than usual. His usual confident façade seemed to falter, even if just for a moment. He looked... uneasy.

You had never seen him like this, not even during the press conference. Something about that call with Steve had rattled him. The way his eyes darkened, how his fingers twitched slightly as if restraining himself from saying more—it was a side of him you rarely witnessed.

And in that fleeting moment, you understood. It wasn’t just you who felt trapped in this web of lies and manipulation. It was Bucky, too. For all his calm demeanor, all his calculated moves, he was just as cornered.

He wasn’t in control like he wanted you to believe.

For the first time, you realized that Bucky wasn’t just pulling the strings—he was tangled in them. Just as trapped as you, if not more so. The weight of Steve’s power over him, the pressure of the campaign, the expectations, the secrets—it was all bearing down on him, too.

And in a strange, twisted way, it made him seem... vulnerable.

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matrixbearer2024 · 2 days

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If you take spicy requests, can you write about Ford teasing reader during sex? Like making the reader begging Ford to stop teasing them sexually

A/N: OH HELL YES LEZZGO! This man, this man istfg there's two sides of his fanbase and that's either him being an inexperienced cutie or a straight up sex god. WHAT THOSE FINGERS DO THOOO- remember ya'll my inbox is open for more spazz about this mans come feed me ideas HAHAHAHA- ANYWAY- because this is a spicy 18+ request, fic is under the cut.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Addicted (Stanford Pines x Reader)

Ford just couldn’t get enough of you, his love, his life, his vice, his addiction. You drove him crazy by simply existing, he couldn’t get enough. Now presented with the opportunity to return the favor, Stanford Pines was going to go the full nine yards and maybe an extra mile.

You didn’t know how you got in this situation to be totally honest; back pressed against the wooden walls of your shared bedroom while being kissed senseless by no one other than Stanford Pines. In one moment you were both sharing wine late into the night, laughing and chatting about whatever. In the next– you were here, the alcohol forgotten as you got drunk on something entirely different.

Fingers tangled into his hair, you returned his passionate kisses with a fervour; earning a deep grunt from the scientist. The tension wound tight between the both of you, intense and electrifying every action and setting it alight. You were drowning in this man, intoxicated by the smell of leather and ink that clung to him like a second skin. There wasn’t anyone else you knew who could swear the scent of a library like an irresistible cologne.

Thirty years had been far too long.

Ford couldn’t tell where his desire began and his affections ended, the situation played with his head like a snake eating it’s own tail. It should have already triggered the alarms in his head the second you came to him with a bottle of Port, all the more when you offered to share. Now, the uncorked beverage simply sat off to the side; an afterthought halfway empty.

It wasn’t as if Stanford didn’t have self-control, the man was disciplined and strict especially with himself. The problem starts when you’re introduced into that situation. You leave Ford grasping at straws to maintain a coherent mind, much less a sane one. Like the differing poles of a magnet, the two of you were just drawn to each other for reasons words couldn’t begin to explain.

One was so bored of the mundane ordinary, the other wanted to find respite in it.

A sharp gasp spilled from your lips when Stanford so easily hefted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist for purchase. You both surged on like desperate teenagers getting lost and crazy in each other. Ford quickly took the opportunity to trail kisses down your neck and on your collar, sucking a couple hickeys that caused you to squirm and cry out for him.

The idea that he’s able to maneuver you like this, to position you in any way he wanted with ease really set something off in your brain. Likewise, the way you writhed against him drove your lover up a damn wall. The way your fingers shakily dug into the knit of his turtleneck made Ford’s ego swell with pride. It was because of him you were like this, pliant and at his mercy.

Initially, he felt guilty for even indulging in the first kiss when you both shared that glass. One turned to two, then three and four; another and another no matter how much he tried to stop. You kept pushing his buttons and foolish as ever, Stanford kept falling for it.

He told himself that he was going to take it slow with you, to treat you like royalty the way you deserved. Hilariously enough, Stanford failed to factor in that for every queen– there was a king; and you would stop at nothing to treat him as such.

The researcher knew the buzz that ran in his veins wasn’t because of the ethanol he consumed; the tightness in his slacks and heat in his blood wasn’t because he was inebriated. Sure, he was completely wasted; lightheaded, dizzy and incoherent, but it wasn’t because of the Port.

Need burned through his flesh when you roughly pulled him back to meet your lips, a low moan slipping from your lover when you lightly tugged at his silver strands. His hands firmly gripped your hips in retaliation while fingers danced around the waistband of your pyjama bottoms.

“Ford. Bed. Now.”

You mumbled amidst fervent kisses, the scientist shivering at the stern tone of your instruction. It was always like this between the both of you; a push and pull that didn’t have just one person explicitly calling the shots. His heart thundered against his ribcage when you nibbled at his bottom lip, you just couldn’t stop teasing him for even a moment could you?

Stanford didn’t dare to break away from kissing you as he clumsily shuffled over to the bed nearby, he was surprised he still even had as much coordination as he did with you distracting him this much; and as if luck decided to taunt him with a jinx– Ford tripped and caused the both of you to ungraciously tumble on top of the mattress.

You both shared a surprised look when that happened before breaking out into giggles, that was an overdue dampener; not to mention extremely sobering. Your lover awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and shyly looked away as he adjusted his glasses, only then did you realise how much of a number you really did on him.

Tousled hair, red-faced, swollen lips, it really reminded you of the first time you’d both gotten carried away snogging back in university. Though, back then you’d both been interrupted for different reasons. Stanford looked really adorable like this, plus– he’d gone all bashful.

You were hoping tonight would end in a different way though.

Gently cupping his cheek, you urged the man to look at you again and gave him a brief peck on the nose. You knew you’d gotten the reaction you wanted when the flame of desire reignited behind his eyes. Moving his spectacles to rest on top of his head, you leaned forward to whisper in his ear,

“I never said we had to stop~”

The response was instantaneous, an excited squeal erupting from your throat as Stanford pinned you down against the bed. He was capable of doing a lot, even back then; you just had to poke and prod him to elicit the reactions you wanted. The researcher just smiled down at you amused, leaning down to meet your lips in a gentle kiss.

“You’re still a minx.”

“I’m your minx.”

That sass quickly left you when he snapped his hips into yours, despite the fact you were both clothed– you could feel his arousal through the fabric. Your face bloomed in a furious red, it’s been so long…

“You look cute.”

Forget his trademark eloquence, the enamoured gaze Ford was giving you sent butterflies to your stomach. He never did look at you with anything less. Curiosity and adoration seemed to mix in his eyes around you, hand in hand and step by step. You sighed happily when he went back to nuzzling your neck, only jolting when you felt his teeth graze your skin. The heat surged in your core, the mood was back.

“May I?”

You’d laugh if it weren’t for the distracting feeling of his calloused palms roaming your skin, your nerves melting and then some from the stimuli. There was no underestimating how much your lover knew, applying that knowledge in practice however… sometimes you’d still get burned since age did make him much bolder compared to back then.

“Yes please.”

That was all the permission he needed, gently biting down on your neck as his hands cupped your breasts. The moan you let out was no short of sinful, Ford’s eyes narrowed into slits and his actions grew a bit rougher. He felt you shiver when his thumbs brushed over your nipples, arching into his hands as your breathing grew laboured.

“Ford~!”

The rush of need shot straight down. That had set something off in him, he needed to hear you say his name like that again. Your sweet tone was only doing him in, Stanford couldn’t help bucking his hips into yours and a shiver raced up his spine. You rewarded his actions with another desperate cry of his name.

The scientist thanked his lucky stars that he had the foresight to soundproof the rooms back when he built his home.

Stanford finally allowed his hands to wander elsewhere after some time, moving his lips down to replace his fingers instead when giving your breasts attention. He was being so thorough and meticulous; however, it was driving you crazy just how insanely slow the man was being.

A small sadistic part of Ford wondered just how far he could take it before you’d beg him to do more; but even that would already be a test of his own control that was rapidly wearing thin thanks to your adorable noises.

“Ford please…”

“Please what my dear?”

You would slap this man for his smug tone if you weren’t so impatient on getting him to rail the thoughts out of you. Even if you squealed in surprise at him suddenly groping your ass, his hands had slipped below the garter of your bottoms and he gently kneaded the supple flesh.

“Don’t– Don’t tease!!!”

You cried out when his teeth grazed your nipple, oh fuck this arrogant man–!

“Why should I?”

Ford chuckled against your skin when one of your legs weakly kicked his side, he continued to press kisses to your chest while one of his hands finally shifted to give you attention where you sought it the most. It didn’t surprise him how soaked you were, but he couldn’t say the same for how receptive you were. Just the faintest touch already had you shaking in his arms.

“Sensitive?”

You kicked him again, only to exclaim in surprise when he started to rub at your clit. You could tell he was still teasing, the pace he chose would sooner drive you crazy from the frustration than the creeping pleasure. All the more when his tongue flicked over a nipple, you screamed his name in frustration.

“Ford!! Please stop teasing!”

“You’ll have to do better than that my love.”

You attempted to buck into his hand but the other was holding you down in place, he sucked harshly on your breast as a consequence and you wailed. It was simultaneously too much and too little, what kind of hell was this?!

“Please~!! Please, Ford! I need–”

He didn’t give you the chance to finish that statement before a finger finally slipped into your entrance, the scientist shivered at how warm and velvety your insides felt wrapped around his finger. He kind of regretted not removing his slacks now prior to this, they were painfully uncomfortable now.

“You’re so pretty for me~”

You whined at the praise, shivering at the gently firm pace he chose in thrusting his finger in and out of you. Pulling him up by the collar, you messily crashed your lips into his again as he added another finger inside of you and curled them.

He knew how you ticked, what would get you to cave to him. Your head fell back when he purposefully pressed into that spongy part that would have you seeing stars. It should’ve been a bigger concern to you how smug your lover was being, abusing that spot with his fingers until you became an incoherent mess. You cried out his name like a broken record, Ford found himself hooked on it– on you.

“Please– please– Ford–!”

When he slowed his pace down when you got closer to that precipice, you knew he wasn’t going to let you fall over that edge so easily. Fuck. So much for hoping he'd play good boy tonight.

It was going to be one of these nights again.

Fic is also here on Ao3 :D

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r6eduss · 2 days

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Would you do a jealous daryl fic? Im pretty open to whatever, I just like it when he gets all riled up.

Play Date.

•Summary: You confess to Daryl, but he doesn’t take it serious, leaving you heartbroken. But when he sees you with Spencer the next day, it sparks jealousy in him he didn’t know he had. (Fem reader)

•Warnings: 18+, No established relationship, angst, fluff

•Word Count: 3.5k

•Setting: Alexandria

•A/N: thank you for the request anon! I’m sorry if you aren’t happy with the results. It took me awhile to write this 🫶🏼 I think if Daryl were actually in a relationship with you, he’d be more trusting so he wouldn’t be as jealous.

The walls of Alexandria were a stark contrast to the world outside. It wasn’t just the literal separation between life and death, safety and chaos; it was the reminder of what life had been before everything fell apart. It wasn’t long ago that the world had been buzzing with electricity, the hum of cities, and the simple luxuries they all took for granted. But now? Now, the very idea of safety felt alien.

You glanced over at the furniture as you walked around the home you had been given, the group clustered around you like a protective herd. You all had been in Alexandria for only a day or two, and even though everyone was supposed to be settling in, there was an air of distrust hanging over the group. Rick, in particular, was on edge, his eyes scanning every corner of the street for unseen threats.

Daryl, meanwhile, looked as out of place as he felt. His clothes were worn and dirty, his hair hanging down over his face, but it wasn’t just his appearance that set him apart from the clean-cut Alexandrians. It was the way he held himself, like a caged animal, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

You’d known Daryl long enough to recognize the signs. He didn’t belong in a place like this, and he knew it. Hell, none of them did. But Daryl? He was different. He’d always been more comfortable in the wild even before the fall, so here, with their pristine houses and manicured lawns, he felt suffocated.

When Deanna invited everyone to the party, Daryl’s reaction was immediate and expected.

“I ain’t goin’,” he grunted, not even looking at you as he adjusted the strap on his crossbow. He was standing on the porch of the house you were all sharing, still on edge about sleeping inside, feeling a need to stay outside and keep watch to protect them from any and all possible dangers.

“Daryl…” you started, your voice soft, knowing that reasoning with him required patience. “It’s just for a little while. We’ve been out there so long, and Deanna’s trying to make us feel at home. I know it’s not what you want, but could you come? For me?”

Daryl stopped, his fingers stilling on the strap, and he turned to look at you, his blue eyes piercing through the shadows of his messy hair. You saw the hesitation in him, the way he always struggled with doing things for others when they weren’t strictly necessary for survival. But you weren’t asking for much—just his presence.

“Fine,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes. “‘But I ain’t puttin’ on no tie.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Deal.”

The party was already in full swing by the time you had arrived. People were mingling, drinks in hand, laughter filling the air in a way that felt foreign to the group that had spent so long fighting for their lives. It was strange, surreal even, to see people acting as though the world outside wasn’t in ruins. You noticed how uncomfortable Daryl looked almost immediately, his broad shoulders hunched in his black button up shirt while his eyes scanned the crowd as if he were looking for an escape route.

Daryl didn’t say much, hovering behind you like a shadow, his discomfort evident in every tense movement. People from Alexandria approached you, eager to learn about the new arrivals. They asked questions—about where your group had came from, how long they’d been on the road, and how you were all adjusting. You answered politely, but there was always a part of you that held back, a part that still didn’t fully trust this place.

Daryl, meanwhile, was grateful that no one spoke to him, even if the reason they didn’t was because they feared him. He stayed quiet, following you from conversation to conversation, his eyes flicking between you and the people who approached. He felt out of place, like he didn’t belong among these clean, well-fed people who seemed oblivious to the horrors faced outside those walls. But he stayed because you, the person he loved, asked him to.

Eventually, Deanna approached, her smile warm as she introduced you and Daryl to her husband, Reg.

“It’s so nice to meet you both.” Reg began, glancing between the two of them with a kind smile. “So, how long have you two been together?”

Your cheeks flushed instantly, and you quickly corrected him, laughing nervously. “Oh, no, we’re not… we’re not together.”

Daryl stayed silent, his heart was racing but he said nothing. He wasn’t sure what to say, anyway. The awkwardness of the moment hung in the air for a second too long before Deanna’s smile widened knowingly.

“Well, you make a good team,” she said before moving on, leaving them both standing there in the midst of the party.

You felt a strange mix of emotions swirl inside you—embarrassment, confusion, and something else you couldn’t quite name. You glanced at Daryl, but his expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed on the floor.

Before you could say anything, Spencer appeared, smiling that easy, charming smile of his as he greeted you. Daryl tensed immediately, his eyes narrowing as Spencer completely ignored his presence and focused all his attention on you, like everyone at this party had done.

“Glad to see you’re fitting in,” Spencer said, his tone just a little too smooth. He leaned in slightly, his body language relaxed but… suggestive. You noticed it, but tried to push the thought aside, assuming you were reading too much into it.

You both made small talk for a few minutes, Spencer doing most of the talking while you nodded politely, trying not to let your discomfort show. Daryl, on the other hand, could see right through Spencer’s act. He recognized the way Spencer’s eyes lingered a little too long, the way his smile was just a little too practiced.

His jaw tightened as he watched Spencer flirt with you right in front of him. It wasn’t that he thought you were his—but the way Spencer looked at you, like you were a conquest, made him feel frustrated, made him feel emotions he’s never felt for anyone before, feelings he didn’t think he was capable of feeling.

“I’m gon’ get a drink.” Daryl muttered under his breath, though he had no intention of actually getting one. Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed for the door, needing to get away before he did something stupid. You barely noticed as he walked away, too caught up in Spencer’s conversation. It wasn’t until Spencer asked, “So, do you have a boyfriend?” that your mind shifted to Daryl.

You paused, your heart skipping a beat as you thought about your feelings for Daryl. You weren’t together, but you couldn’t deny that your heart had long since gravitated toward him.

“No,” you finally answered, voice quiet.

Spencer’s smile widened, and before you could say anything else, he asked, “Then how about we go out sometime?” The question caught you off guard, but you recovered quickly, offering him a polite smile as you shook your head. “I’m not really interested, I’m sorry.” You couldn’t really handle the awkwardness of the conversation, so you began to walk away, but Spencer wasn’t one to take no for an answer. His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist a little too tightly, his smile fading into something harder. “Come on,” he said, his tone insistent. “It’s just a date.”

You tensed immediately, your eyes narrowing as you tried to pull your wrist free. “Let go,” you said firmly, your voice was low enough that no one else at the party noticed.

For a moment, Spencer hesitated, his grip tightening. But then he seemed to remember where they were—surrounded by both Alexandrians and people

of Rick’s group—and he released you, his expression shifting back into a smooth, apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that,” he said quickly, but the red mark on your wrist told a different story.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, heading toward the table with the drinks to look for Daryl. But when you got there, he was nowhere to be found. What you did see, though, was Spencer already chatting up Sasha, his flirtatious smile back in full force.

You sighed, feeling a wave of disappointment wash over you. The night wasn’t turning out the way you had hoped. You wanted to enjoy it, to maybe have a quiet moment with Daryl, but instead, it felt like everything was falling apart.

Needing some air, you stepped outside, the cool night breeze brushing against your skin. It didn’t take long to spot Daryl, leaning against a nearby fence, a cigarette between his lips as he stared out into the darkness.

You approached him slowly, your heart still racing from the interaction with Spencer. As you got closer, Daryl’s eyes shifted to you, and the moment he saw the red mark on your wrist, his entire demeanor changed.

“Wha’ happened?” he asked, his voice rough but laced with concern.

You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, but you knew there was no point in lying to him. “Spencer grabbed me when I tried to leave,” you really didn’t want to already start problems. “It’s fine. He let go.”

Daryl’s expression darkened instantly, his jaw clenching as he tossed the cigarette to the ground, already turning to head back toward the house. “I’m gon’ kill ‘im.”

“Daryl, wait,” quickly, you stepped in front of him and placed a hand on his chest to stop him. “It’s fine. I just… I want to spend the night with you. Not dealing with that. Please.”

He stopped, his fists still clenched, his eyes blazing with barely contained anger. But something about the way you said it—the way you asked him to stay with you—made him pause. He looked down at you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to calm the storm inside him.

“If he gets near ya again, I swear…”

You smiled softly, touched by his protectiveness. “I know. But you don’t have to worry. I’ve got you—and the rest of the group—watching out for me. I’m fine.”

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground as he struggled with the emotions swirling inside him. He wanted to protect you, wanted to make sure no one ever laid a hand on you, but there was something else gnawing at him—something he didn’t quite know how to deal with.

Jealousy.

He didn’t think he had a right to feel it, but it was there, a bitter taste in his mouth. Spencer was younger, cleaner, probably the kind of guy you deserved. And him? He was older, rough around the edges, scarred in more ways than one.

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, you spoke again, voice steady. “Daryl… you don’t have to worry about Spencer or anyone else. My heart… it already belongs to you.”

For a moment, Daryl froze, his mind going blank as your words sank in. He looked down at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. You couldn’t be serious. There was no way someone like you—someone strong, kind, beautiful—could feel that way about him.

A defensive scoff escaped his lips as he shook his head while giving your shoulder a playful nudge.

Your smile faltered, and you felt the sting of his actions deep in your chest. You’d laid your heart bare, and he’d brushed it off like it was nothing. But you didn’t let the hurt show. Instead, you forced a small laugh, playing it off like it was a joke.

But inside, your heart was breaking.

Without another word, you turned and began walking back in the direction toward your shared home with the others, your chest tight with the weight of his rejection. You felt like you had taken a leap, only to be pushed away, and now all you wanted to do was disappear.

Daryl watched you go as he lit another cigarette, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t untangle. His jealously, his feelings for you, things he’d never discuss out loud.

After arriving, you realized you were alone in the house. Everyone was still at the party and the silence was too deafening, leaving you unable to shake the pit in your stomach. The night stretched on endlessly as you rested on the worn-out couch, staring at the ceiling, the events of what happened playing on a loop in your mind.

Rejection. The taste of it still burned in your chest. You had put your heart on the line, and Daryl didn’t seem to notice. It had felt like a punch to the gut, leaving you winded and second-guessing everything. He hadn’t even said anything real—just brushed it off like you were joking, and now, the quiet gnawed at you, making you feel smaller by the minute. Maybe he didn’t feel the same, and that thought consumed you throughout the night.

The next day passed in a blur. You barely caught a glimpse of Daryl, knowing he was out with Aaron, who had given him a new job as a recruiting partner after he had invited him over for dinner. Every step he took away from you felt like another brick in the wall that was forming between you two. You wrestled with your feelings, considering maybe it was time to let loose.

And maybe it was time to open your options with someone else.

That afternoon, while you sat on the porch, a warm breeze brushing against your skin, Spencer appeared, looking sheepish. “Hey, about yesterday...” His voice was shaky, unsure. He shifted on his feet, his gaze darting to the ground before he finally met your eyes. “I’m really sorry for grabbing your wrist like that. I had too much to drink and I was way out of line.”

You remembered the incident from the party—the way he had grabbed you, too rough, too desperate. But now, seeing the guilt in his eyes, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pity.

“It’s fine,” you forced a small smile. “You were buzzed. I totally get it.”

Relief washed over his face, and he grinned, more confident now. “So... what about that date?”

You hesitated for a moment, your heart still aching for someone else, but the thought of moving on, of trying to distract yourself from the pain, seemed tempting. Maybe you could use Spencer to forget Daryl. “Sure,” you replied, surprising yourself with the ease in your voice.

The date was... fine. That was the best word to describe it. Spencer talked a lot about himself—his job before the fall, his family, the world he missed. He asked you questions too, seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say, but as much as you tried, you couldn’t really care. His words barely made a dent in your thoughts, because they were always somewhere else—on Daryl.

But Spencer, oblivious to your disinterest, seemed to think it was a success. He walked you home afterward, his arm brushing yours every now and then. You found yourself laughing at some of the things he said, more out of politeness than anything else, but for a moment, it almost felt normal. Almost.

As you approached the front porch, you failed to notice Daryl.

He stood there, not far from the house, just returning from his run with Aaron. He froze, his eyes locked on you and Spencer, his face hardening into something unreadable. Daryl just watched, hands clenched at his sides with his jaw tight.

By the time you reached the porch, you felt tired in more ways than one. As Spencer gave you a final, confident smirk, promising to see you again soon, he finally left. You were lost in thought. The silence wrapped around you, and for a while, you almost forgot about the strange encounter—until you spotted Daryl walking right towards you.

“Hey, Dary—”

Before you could finish, Daryl’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist—not rough, but firm enough to pull you toward him. His face was a storm of anger, jealousy, and something else you couldn’t quite place. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, like he was barely keeping it together. He dragged you into the house, slamming the door behind him with a force that rattled the frame. “The hell ya doin’ with tha’ asshole?” he spat, his voice low and accent thick, filled with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean? We were just talking.”

Daryl scoffed, pacing like a caged animal. “Talkin’? That son’of a bitch touched ya, now yer walkin’ ‘round with him like it didn’t mean nothin’.”

You crossed your arms, defensiveness rising in your chest. “He apologized. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

His eyes flashed, and you could see the fury bubbling just beneath the surface. “Not a big deal? He hurt ya!” His voice was louder now, frustration pouring out of him.

And then it hit you—why he was acting this way. Was he... jealous? The realization made your blood boil. After he brushed you off, now he wanted to care? Now he wanted to feel something?

You snapped, your voice laced with anger. “So what? It wasn’t nearly as bad as you hurt me! So stop acting like we’re together when you clearly don’t care!”

Your words hung in the air, cutting through him like a knife. You watched as Daryl’s expression shifted from anger to confusion. “What?” His voice was quieter now, unsure.

Your heart clenched, the weight of everything you’d been holding in finally crashing down on you. “Last night,” you began, your voice was softer now, but still trembling with emotion. “When I told you my heart belonged to you... you acted like it was a joke.”

His breath caught in his throat. He remembered. The way he had shrugged it off, laughed it away, thinking you were just messing around. He had never thought, not in a million years, that you could feel that way about him. A girl like you? Loving a guy like him? It was laughable.

But now, seeing the pain in your eyes, it wasn’t funny at all.

“I... I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice thick with regret. “Thought ya were just messin’ ‘round.” He trailed off, unable to find the right words.

You sighed, the tension slowly ebbing away as you took in the sight of him—this man who had built up walls so high, he couldn’t even see when someone was trying to climb them. “Why would I joke about something like that, Daryl?” you asked, almost pleading. Maybe he was used to Carol’s humor, or maybe he didn’t think he deserved you.

He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Dunno,” he muttered. “Didn’t think redneck trash would be worth yer time.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. The way he saw himself, the way he spoke of himself—it hurt. But in this moment, the vulnerability in his voice, the way he couldn’t even look at you... it was endearing.

“Daryl...” you called softly, stepping closer, your heart pounding in your chest. You reached out, gently placing your index finger and your thumb under his chin, tilting his face up until his eyes met yours. The closeness between you made the air crackle with anticipation.

His eyes flickered between your gaze and your lips, nervous, unsure. He bit the inside of his lip, fidgeting with his fingers, and you knew—he was waiting for your next move.

With a steady breath, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but as his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, it deepened. When you finally pulled away, you stayed close, your lips brushing his as you whispered, “Of course you’re worth my time.”

Daryl’s eyes were wide, his breath shallow. For a long moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to convince himself that this was real. Then, in a quiet manner, he cleared his throat. “I love ya.” The words left his mouth in a very subtle whisper as you felt his breath against your lips.

Your heart stopped, the world seeming to freeze for just a second. He... loved you?

“I love you too, Daryl,” you whispered back, smiling before leaning in to kiss him again.

After a long, tender moment, you pulled back, and Daryl glanced away, embarrassed. “Ya still gon’ hang out with tha’ guy?” he asked, his voice gruff but his tone soft.

You laughed, completely forgetting about Spencer. “No,” you cupped Daryl’s cheek gently, making him revert his gaze back to you. “I have you. That’s all I need.”

@vampiresluv

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon fluff #norman reedus #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon angst #twd daryl #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl Dixon x reader angst #daryl Dixon x reader fluff #daryl Dixon x reader smut

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koyagifs · 3 days

Text

Starlit Confessions

pairing: seonghwa x reader au: idol | childhood friends to lover genre: fluff summary: tour finally ended and seonghwa decided to spend time with you during his break warning(s): none a/n: not edited

──･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.────

As the tour finally came to a close, Seonghwa felt a wave of relief wash over him. The whirlwind of performances and travel had been exhilarating, but now he was eager to spend some much-needed time with you.

Seonghwa stood outside your place, heavily covered as he didn't want to get spotted by his lovely atiny. As you come out from your place, a smile placed on your lip as you noticed him.

" hwa~" You called out, your voice brightening the chilly evening. Seonghwa’s heart raced at the sound of his name. He turned to you, and even though you couldn't noticed the smile placed on his face it was there.

He waved, shuffling over as you opened your arms for his hug. Seonghwa stepped into your embrace, the warmth of your body chasing away the chill of the evening air. He held you tightly, savoring the moment after being away for so long.

“I missed this,” he murmured, his voice slightly muffled against your shoulder. You could feel the tension in his shoulders ease as he let go of the stress from the tour.

You pulled back to look at him, noticing the glint of joy in his eyes. “I missed you too, Hwa. It’s been too long.”

" well, next time you'll just have to join me on tour"

You laughed, " hmm, i'll think about it"

Seonghwa laughed as well, wrapping his arm around your shoulder you two began to walk. The night sky shinning down as you two made it towards a near by bridge.

As you walked, the soft glow of the city lights illuminated your path, and the gentle breeze carried the distant sound of laughter from the streets below. Seonghwa's arm around your shoulders felt comforting, and you leaned into him as you approached the bridge.

When you reached the center of the bridge, you paused to take in the view. The water below shimmered under the moonlight, reflecting the stars above. It was a breathtaking sight, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Wow, it’s beautiful here,” you said, taking a deep breath of the cool night air.

Seonghwa nodded, his gaze fixed on you. He leaned next to you, his eyes not leaving your figure as you continue to look at the water below.

" yn, how long have we known each other?"

You turned to Seonghwa, surprised by the question. " hmm since elementary school. You shoved liu off because he took one of my toys away"

Seonghwa laughed at the memory, nodding his head

“Right! I remember that! You were so upset, and I just couldn’t stand seeing you cry,” he said, a fond smile on his face. “I had no idea I’d end up with a lifelong friend that day.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You were such a little hero back then. It’s hard to believe how far we’ve come since those days.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, leaning back against the railing of the bridge. “From playground fights to late-night talks and everything in between. It’s been quite the journey.”

You glanced at him, noticing the way his eyes sparkled with nostalgia. You took his hand, interlocking your fingers together. “I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world. You’ve always been there for me, Hwa.”

Seonghwa looked down at your intertwined fingers, a soft smile spreading across his face. He pulled you closer, a soft gasp escaping you as you looked up at Seonghwa. He pulled his mask down, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked, his voice low and earnest.

You nodded, feeling the warmth radiate between you. One his hands went to your cheek, gently brushing your hair back as he continued,

" this tour... made me realize how much i love you yn. "

you smiled, " i love you to hwa"

He moved his head side to side, " no, i love you, more then a friend"

“And I always will be,” he replied, his voice sincere. “You mean so much to me.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a mix of joy and nervous excitement flooding through you. “More than a friend?” you echoed, wanting to savor the moment.

Seonghwa nodded, his gaze unwavering. He leaned in closer, his voice a gentle whisper. " can i kiss you?"

You leaned in closer, " i'll be disappointed if you didn't my love"

Seonghwa’s eyes sparkled with delight at your response. With a tender smile, he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. It was sweet and warm, filled with all the unspoken emotions that had built up between you over the years.

As he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, he whispered, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

You smiled, feeling a rush of happiness. " took you awhile Park "

He placed another kiss on your lip, smiling against your mouth. “I know, I know. I guess I was just waiting for the perfect moment.”

You chuckled softly, your heart fluttering. Maybe you should go on next tour.

#park seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fluff #ateez imagines #seonghwa x reader #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #seonghwa x reader fluff #fluff #seonghwa drabble #seonghwa imagines #park seonghwa x y/n

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yesihaveaobsession · 2 days

Text

Between the Shelves

Alastor x female!librarian reader

Summary: Alastor frequently visits a library, drawn to the pretty librarian working there. Under the guise of searching for a book, he maneuvers his way through the shelves, 'accidentally'.

A/N- had this idea in my notes for a while and here it is..

Alastor was downtown, glancing at himself in a store window, straightening his tie and brushing off his suit. Today, he was making his daily visit to the librarian who had stolen his heart—and that was you. You owned a very small library, which some might call more of a bookstore than anything else. As he approached the library, the bell above the door chimed when he stepped inside, the grin on his face firmly in place, his usual confidence stance and stood with his arms behind his back.

The soft scent of old books filled the air, comforting and familiar to him, though technically, he hadn’t come for a book. He glanced over at the counter but didn’t see you there; instead, he heard humming coming from one of the aisles. His tall frame drifted through the shelves, his eyes scanning the rows of books—or rather, peering through the gaps in them to see if you were there. Finally, he reached for a random title, gripping the spine and sliding the book out. Just as he’d planned, there you were, on the other side of the shelf, putting books away.

"Ah! What a surprise!" Alastor exclaimed, leaning slightly against the shelf, feigning shock at their coincidental meeting. “I didn’t expect to run into such a lovely librarian behind the stacks.”

You glanced up at him, both surprised and unsurprised to see him. He had been visiting you every day, though always at different times, and you were too caught up in your own world to hear the door chime when he came in. A shy smile played on your lips, not entirely convinced this meeting was an accident. "Looking for something specific, Alastor?"

"Well," he began, stepping around the shelf to stand beside you. You felt his presence next to you as you finished putting away the last few books. "I was searching for a book, but now that you're here, I seem to have forgotten what it was." Alastor’s grin widened, clearly pleased with himself.

"Perhaps you could offer me a recommendation?" His crimson eyes lingered on you, as if the books were merely an excuse to be near you. You sensed his playfulness and chuckled softly. "Sure, what kind of book are you in the mood for today?"

"Hmm, nothing in particular."

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and you gestured toward a nearby section. "Well, if you like mysteries, we’ve got a few new arrivals over here. I think you might like them." Alastor smiled and nodded. You knew he preferred classic, old literature, but you suggested something a bit more modern. Truth be told, he’d read whatever book you gave him, no matter how bad. Alastor followed your lead, staying just close enough to keep you aware of his presence without overstepping.

"You're always so knowledgeable," he mused. "I must admit, it's part of why I keep coming back." His closed-lipped smile and the double meaning of his words were impossible to miss.

Your heart skipped a beat, unsure whether to take his words at face value or if there was more to them. "I’m just doing my job," you laughed softly, trying to keep your composure. "But I’m glad I could help." You handed him another recommendation. Alastor’s smile grew wider, and his eyes gleamed with their signature mischievous look. "Oh, you help more than you know, my dear. Far more." Your hands brushed gently against each other.

You followed him to the counter as he handed you the book to check out, smiling back at him as your eyes locked once more when he took it from you. Alastor turned on his heel and began walking to the door, but then paused and glanced over his right shoulder.

"Until next time, then. Have a great day, my lovely librarian," he said with a smile. You couldn’t help but blush as you watched him leave, hoping you’d see him tomorrow. This time, you weren’t entirely sure if he actually read the books he checked out—or if they were just an excuse to see you.

#alastor #hazbin hotel #the radio demon #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor imagine #i have an obsession

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childrenofcain-if · 9 hours

Note

Hnng... Ice-skating MC on a date with my beloveds, C and D. It is a neeED

C LACROIX

the rink was empty, hollowed out by the absence of strangers, its glassy surface reflecting the low winter light that trickled through the high windows. outside, snow fell in lazy drifts, the kind that softened the world into silence. inside, the ice gleamed under the overhead lights like a frozen river, waiting to be crossed.

the cold bit at the tips of your noses, clung to your breath, but the stillness had a kind of magic to it, something almost poetic in its quiet.

the air smelled faintly of the clean sharpness of ice and the dull, worn tang of skates left over from a hundred other winters. somewhere, a soft tune played from the 80s; soft, distant, more of a feeling than a sound, as if the rink itself was breathing along with you.

you were born for this. you could feel it in your bones, the way your muscles knew exactly what to do, the memory of the skates under you more familiar than walking. the ice was your territory. out here, under the quiet hum of the rink, you were free. untouchable.

“so,” you called over your shoulder, your voice light, teasing, “are you going to stand in the corner looking like a statue all night? or are you actually going to skate?”

C’s eyes narrowed, the edge of their mouth quirking up in that way that meant they were trying not to smile, trying not to let you see just how much you made them happy. but you caught the flicker of it, just for a second. that was enough.

they jammed their hands into the pockets of their too-perfect coat, their expression hovering between exasperation and something else. “i don’t skate.”

you didn’t bother arguing. instead, you pushed off from the side, gliding effortlessly across the ice, your body folding into the movement as though the cold had never touched you, as though you belonged here in a way C never would.

you moved with a kind of grace that bordered on reckless, and you knew it. the rink was empty, vast, and in the soft glow of the overhead lights, it felt like a dream. you were the dream, and they were watching you like they couldn’t help themself, that familiar intensity darkening their pale green gaze.

you cut a sharp curve around the edge of the rink, the edges of your skates scraping into the ice with a sound that made your heart race. the song over the speakers changed, something slower now, something aching with tenderness.

“you can’t just watch me all night,” you said as you came to a stop in front of them, your breath fogging the cold air between you. “that’s not how this works.”

they raised an eyebrow, arms folded now, like you were testing their patience. C was good at that look—like they had better things to do than play your games, like you weren’t already dragging them into the center of it all.

“and how does this work?” they asked, their voice low. C was also good at making things feel dangerous, even when they weren’t.

you leaned closer, just enough that the chill of the ice was replaced by the warmth of their presence. they always had this way of making the air around them hum, like something barely restrained, something electric.

“it works,” you said, “by you trusting me.”

a flicker of doubt crossed their face—not doubt in you, but doubt in the situation, in the idea of them surrendering even an ounce of control. you didn’t need to ask to know that trust was a currency C didn’t deal in lightly.

still, something shifted. they sighed, like the weight of the world had just been placed on their shoulders, and before you could make another comment, they stepped onto the ice. just like that, as if they had made the decision and it was final. but there was hesitation in their movements, the way their shoulders tensed, the way their hands stayed close to their sides, ready to catch themself.

you reached for them, your gloved hand sliding into theirs, and though you felt the briefest resistance, it didn’t last. they took your hand. they always did, even if it was against their better judgment.

but the moment your hands met, C felt a rush of warmth through their fingers, despite the cold. your grip was firm and steady, grounding them as they stepped onto the ice fully, their legs immediately wobbly, knees locking in a desperate attempt to stay upright.

“there you go,” you said, voice full of encouragement. you began to skate backward slowly, pulling C with you, guiding them into the center of the rink. “see? you’ve already got it.”

“i’ve got nothing,” C muttered under their breath, though they couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of their lips. their heart was pounding, not just from the fear of falling but from the proximity to you, the way your hand stayed firmly wrapped around theirs, the way your eyes stayed focused on them like there was nothing else in the world right now.

“you just need to relax,” you said, skating a slow, gentle circle around the rink, making sure to C them upright. “you’re too tense. stop fighting the ice.”

C scowled. “easy for you to say. you make this look like it’s nothing.”

you pulled them into a gentle spin. C’s legs wobbled again, but you were there, steady, always keeping them from slipping. “it’s not about being perfect. just let go a little. trust yourself. trust the ice.”

“i trust you,” C said, not even realizing what came out of their mouth as they were too focused on not falling over. “not the stupid ice.”

“that’s a start then.” you smiled fondly and squeezed C’s hand before letting go, skating a few feet backward, just far enough to give them some space to move on their own.

panic flared in C’s chest the moment your hand left theirs, and they felt their legs wobble dangerously. “wait, wait—you!”

but you just laughed again, watching them with that easy confidence. “you’re fine. you’ve got this.”

“i’m going to murder y—” C’s foot slipped slightly, sending a jolt of terror through them, but they managed to catch themself before falling. they shot a glare at you as you were grinning like you were having the time of your life.

“see? you didn’t fall,” you said, gliding closer again but not touching C just yet, giving them the space to figure it out.

they let out a breath they didn’t realize they were holding, their legs still trembling slightly. “you’re way too comfortable with watching me almost die.”

“i told you,” you said with a teasing smile. “you’ve got this.”

you skated around them again, this time a little faster, your movements smooth and controlled, like you were showing off but in that way you always did—effortlessly. C couldn’t help but watch you, their heart swelling with a mix of awe and admiration.

“don’t you dare let go of me ever again,” they muttered, though there was no real bite to the words.

“never,” you said with a smile, your hand reaching out to take theirs again, and this time, they didn’t hesitate.

D DIACONU

D was already on the ice, gliding with a smoothness that belied their cocky smile. their dark hair was tousled, pale cheeks flushed pink from the cold, and that smirk they always wore—it was enough to make anyone believe they didn’t have a care in the world.

you watched from the edge, arms crossed, half-smiling to yourself. you could have stepped onto the ice any second, could have shown D up without much effort, but for now, you were just curious.

“you never told me you knew how to skate,” you called out, finally pushing off the edge and joining them in the middle of the rink.

D’s eyes flicked over to you, a glint of amusement in their gaze. they let out a breathy laugh, gliding backward as you approached. “you never asked.”

you arched an eyebrow. “i just assumed. california. texas. not exactly the winter sports capitals.”

D shrugged, spinning around in a slow, easy turn. “there’s ice rinks everywhere if you know where to look.”

“uh-huh.” you narrowed your eyes playfully. “and why would you be looking?”

D skated closer, coming within inches of you. “i like to be good at things,” they said, their voice low, teasing. “you know, in case someone ever invites me out for a romantic evening on the ice.”

you scoffed, though you couldn’t hide the slight twitch of a smile. “i doubt you were waiting for that.”

D gave a dramatic sigh, skating away again, this time with a little more speed, showing off. “caught me. i used to play ice hockey,” they called back over their shoulder.

that got your attention. “ice hockey?” you caught up easily, gliding alongside them now. “you?”

D grinned, giving a playful shrug. “for about two years, until i moved to california. then it was mostly surfing. but i didn’t forget how to skate.” they spun again, this time in a tight circle, coming to a smooth stop in front of you, close enough that their breath mingled in the cold air. “you impressed yet?”

you rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t deny how easily D moved on the ice. it wasn’t like most people who fumbled or were too stiff. D was loose, natural, like they’d never been anywhere else.

“you’re not bad,” you said, skating backward now, keeping the playful distance between you. “but i’m still better.”

D’s laugh echoed through the rink, loud and rich. “i wouldn’t dream of competing with you. you were practically born on ice.”

“it’s the northern attitude,” you said with a smirk, the comment hit closer to the truth than D probably realized. “so... ice hockey, huh? i figured you were more of a biker type.”

D laughed again, not missing a beat. “oh, i am. but there’s something about hockey that gets the blood pumping, you know?” they shot you a sly look. “plus, you get to shove people around. it’s therapeutic.”

you shook your head. “that sounds more like you.”

D skated closer again, and this time, their tone shifted, softer but still teasing. “admit it—you like me better this way. out here. no games, just ice.”

you met their gaze, something tightening in your chest, but you didn’t let it show.

“oh, there are definitely still games,” you said, voice just as low, just as teasing. “you’re playing one right now.”

D’s smirk widened, and for a moment, something passed between you—unspoken but electric, the kind of tension neither of you acknowledged aloud but both of you felt. D tilted their head, their eyes gleaming with amusement.

“maybe,” they said. “but i don’t lose.”

you didn’t back down. you couldn’t. not with them. “we’ll see about that.”

the music in the background shifted—a david bowie song, something with an easy beat that seemed to fit the moment. you took that as your cue and pushed off, speeding up, leaving D behind without warning. “think you can keep up?” you called back, your voice light, taunting.

D’s response was immediate—a laugh that rang out over the music as they took the challenge, skating faster to close the gap between you. “you think i’m gonna let you get away that easy?”

you grinned to yourself, knowing D wouldn’t. you sped up again, weaving through the rink, pushing the limits just enough to keep them on edge, to keep them guessing. it was a game now—one that neither of you had to explain.

D was fast, sure, but you were faster. you skated in wide arcs, doubling back at the last second just to see if they could follow. and they could—D’s two years of ice hockey training coming back in quick, tight turns and the occasional shove for good measure. at one point, they nearly caught up, their hand brushing against your arm.

“almost had you,” they said, breathless, but still grinning, still cocky.

“almost,” you replied, laughing as you pulled away again, the cold wind rushing past your face. “but not quite.”

for a few minutes, you just skated—no more talking, no more games—just the rush of movement, the sound of your blades cutting through the ice, the beat of the music in the background. it felt good, being out here, away from everything else, away from the usual masks you wore around each other.

eventually, though, D slowed, pulling back into a lazy glide until they came to a stop in the middle of the rink, chest heaving from the effort. you skated over, still full of energy but curious as to why they had stopped.

“you done already?” you asked, teasing. “thought you had more stamina than that.”

D shot you a look, their smirk still in place but their metallic gray eyes a little more serious now. “i know when i’m beat. besides, it’s not about winning with you.”

you arched an eyebrow, intrigued by the sudden shift. “what’s it about, then?”

D’s gaze flickered to the ice for a moment before meeting yours again, the usual flirtiness tempered with something softer. “it’s about the chase.”

you didn’t respond right away, the weight of those words hanging between you. D was always like this—bold, never serious, always keeping things at arm’s length. but there was something in their tone now, something that felt... different.

before you could say anything, though, D’s usual smirk returned, and they took a step closer, their voice dropping back into that familiar teasing lilt. “you keep me on my toes. that’s all i’m saying.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “maybe you need it.”

“maybe i do.” they skated backward a few steps, giving you a small, almost playful salute. “but don’t think this is over. next time, i’ll win.”

and with that, they turned and skated off toward the other end of the rink, leaving you standing there, watching them go. as much as you knew D was still playing a game, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, for just a second, something real had slipped through the cracks.

something neither of you was ready to admit just yet.

#this has been marinating in my drafts since the sports polls #did not proofread #ro: c lacroix #ro: d diaconu #if: the ballad of the young gods #interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive story #twine wip #ro scenarios

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leahrintarou · 3 days

Note

HELLO GIRL HOPE YOU'RE DOING GOOD 😊

i wanted to request for dabi x fem!villain!reader. she loves dabi but he's a brat to her just like himself, like with everyone. and after one mission reader goes somewhere and drinks fuckload of alcohol and she's super lightweight so she's out after one/two shots. and that night she gets like tons of alcohol. so she's obviously drunk and she has no idea what she's doing and she calls dabi. and he cares for her he's just acting this way (i severely believe that he's the guy who falls for someone and IMMEDIATELY had a pushing away mechanism going on because of his past and stuff). and he comes to pick reader up and she's not even able to stand straight. like she's pretty fucked AMD SHE'S A BABY WHEN DRUNK, LIKE LITERALLY WHINING CRYING AND BEING A CUTIE. and he takes her with him and she has few more bottle hidden somewhere with her, and she keeps drinking and he's concerned because she's extra lightweight. but she keeps getting those bottles so he throws one of them out of the moving car window😆 and she's like why would you do that it was a great whiskey (or whatever she can drink). but she's not sad for long because she takes out another bottle, and he does the same thing. and after that she starts crying because it was her last bottle and he's so mean. AND then at night she gets sick because of all that alcohol she has earlier so she's having a huge fever, she feels like dying, so she whines a d cries about her feelings and him rejecting her and she confesses to him and says a lot of stupid things how pretty he it and how good he looks shirtless and stuff like that. AND then next day when she wakes up he teases her about it and she's embarrassed af, but it ends up fluff with him confessing back😊😊❤️❤️❤️

I'M SORRY IT'S SO LONG BUT I HAVE A LOT OF THINGS GOING ON IN MY HEAD AND I DON'T KNOW HOW TO SHORTEN MY THOUGHTS🤣🤣 I'M SORRY 😞 but i still hope you'll write it🥺

✩₊˚.⋆ RELUCTANT HEARTS - dabi/touya todoroki

CW: y/n is drunk, alcohol intoxication, communication issues, y/n's in love but dabi is being dabi, he doesn't know how to talk about his feelings, swearing, reader with she/her pronouns, non-detailed mentions of throwing up, fluff, some angst if u squint tbh.

Word Count: 4.6k

Author's Note: (i'm doing well, anon! :p) i hope you guys enjoy reading! it came out a bit longer than i was planning but oh well lol. leave a like or reblog to support!

the bitter warmth of alcohol lingered on y/n's tongue as she downed yet another shot. she'd long lost count after the eighth, the need for a chaser fading as the taste softened, dulled by her numbing senses. "ma'am, we'll be closing soon," one of the bartenders murmured, the same one who had filled her glass every few minutes without fail.

she nodded, her vision doubling with the motion. nausea crept up on her, and she sighed at the inevitable. a lightweight by nature, she usually capped her nights at fewer than ten shots when drinking alone, but tonight was a different story.

her solo mission had been successful, but not without needless resistance from heroes who showed no mercy. shigaraki had barely scolded her, while dabi took the opportunity to belittle her inefficiency. it wasn’t like her to slip up so badly, but dabi never missed a chance to hold her mistakes over her—so long as they bothered her, he’d never let her forget.

despite her hating the fact that she had to, y/n fumbled with her phone, squinting at the blurry screen before finally locating dabi’s number. her thumb slipped as she pressed call, the dial tone ringing painfully loud in her ear.

“what?” dabi’s voice was sharp, instantly irritated.

“touya…” she slurred, her words tumbling lazily. “i need… i need you to come get me,” she mumbled. there was a pause, then a scoff. “what the hell? you sound trashed. where are you?”

“uh… somewhere,” y/n mumbled, blinking as she tried to get her thoughts straight. “i’m just… out.”

“out? where’s ‘out,’ y/n?” his voice was flat, but she could hear the growing annoyance. “you’re not making any sense.”

“just… come get me,” she groaned, frustration bleeding into her slurred words. “i can’t… i can’t even walk straight.” she glanced down at her lap, where her free hand rested as she twisted the singular ring at the base of her index finger.

dabi snorted. “no shit, you’re drunk off your ass. what are you doing, wandering around aimlessly?”

“not wandering,” she mumbled. “i’m sitting.” a bit of annoyance crept into her voice. apparently, liquor couldn't stop dabi from pissing her off so quickly. “okay, sitting where?” he asked, now sounding both amused and irritated. “what? did you pass out in an alley or something?”

y/n rolled her eyes, which only made her dizziness worse. “ugh, no. i’m in a… bar.”

dabi paused, then let out an exaggerated sigh. “of course. a bar. you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“just come get me, touya,” she grumbled, her voice slurred but laced with irritation. “unless you want me to blow chunks on someone's shoes. your call.”

he clicked his tongue, clearly frustrated but now understanding the situation. “you’re such a mess, y/n. fine. send me the address.”

“yeah, yeah,” she muttered, fumbling to type it out. “thanks, touya.” she smiled to herself. "knew you'd come through even if you're a dick about it."

"don't push it," he snapped before hanging up. even though he'd put on an act like he didn't care, she knew he'd show up. and, despite himself, so did he.

---

it wasn’t long before the rumble of a car engine cut through the night air outside the bar. y/n groggily looked up as dabi stepped inside, his usual scowl firmly in place as his eyes swept the room. the second he spotted her slumped over in the booth, he shook his head and made his way over.

“seriously?” he grumbled as he stood in front of her, arms crossed. “this is the state you’ve gotten yourself into?”

y/n glanced up at him, her head spinning as she tried to focus. “don’t… don’t start,” she mumbled, her words slurring together. “i’m not in the mood for your shit.”

“too bad. you’re in no position to make demands,” he shot back, leaning down to help her up. he wrapped an arm around her waist, feeling her lean heavily against him. “let’s get you out of here before you make a scene.”

“hey, i can walk,” y/n protested half-heartedly, but the moment she tried to stand, her legs buckled beneath her. dabi’s grip tightened, and he half-dragged her toward the exit.

“yeah, sure you can,” he said dryly, his tone laced with sarcasm. “you’re a real lightweight, you know that?”

“shut up, touya,” she grumbled, though the annoyance in her voice was overshadowed by a hint of affection. “you’re not my dad.”

“wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, pushing open the passenger door of his car and easing her inside. “but someone has to make sure you don’t drown in your own stupidity.”

“whatever,” y/n muttered as she settled into the seat, her head resting against the window. “i could handle myself fine… if you weren’t so annoying.”

“annoying, huh?” he shot back, sliding into the driver’s seat and giving her a sideways glance. “you know, you called me. but hey, if you wanted my attention, this wasn’t the way to go about it.”

“because you’re the best at picking people up from bars,” she replied, a slight smirk on her lips. but then her expression faltered, and she turned serious. “i… i really appreciate it, you know?”

“don’t get all mushy on me,” he said, rolling his eyes. “it’s not like i’m doing this out of the kindness of my heart. i’ve got a reputation to uphold, and rescuing your drunk ass is just good PR.”

“you’re such a brat,” y/n shot back, though her heart fluttered at his teasing. “i’d like to see you handle it better.”

“please, i wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this,” he replied, his tone dripping with disdain as he pulled away from the curb. “besides, if i didn’t show up, who else would have to deal with your mess? i’ve got a reputation to uphold, remember?”

“right, because you care so much about your reputation,” she said sarcastically, turning her gaze to the window, watching the city lights blur past. “you’re just here for the free entertainment.”

“entertainment? you think this is funny?” he replied, glancing at her with an eyebrow raised. “watching you stumble around like a newborn deer isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.”

“well, at least i’m amusing,” y/n shot back, trying to hide the smile tugging at her lips. “you should thank me for keeping your life exciting.”

“exciting, huh?” he scoffed. “more like a headache. i’d rather face a horde of heroes than babysit you in a bar.”

“oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “you secretly love it.” y/n reached into the pocket of her hoodie, pulling out the smaller bottle of alcohol she bought earlier.

“love it? not even close,” he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “you’re lucky i have a soft spot for lost causes.”

“lost cause, huh?” she challenged, feeling a rush of emotion she couldn’t quite suppress. she lifted it to her lips, taking a singular swig before it was snatched from her hands. a bit of it dripped down her chin, and dabi rolled his window down before throwing it out. the sound of the glass shattering against the pavement echoed a second later.

"what the hell, touya!" she yelled, using her sleeve to wipe the liquor from her face. "that was mine!" she fussed.

"not anymore," he said flatly, glancing at her before his eyes returned to the road. "you're not drinking any more tonight. it's a miracle you were even able to walk back there."

"you don't get to decide that," she snapped, a flash of anger igniting in her chest as tears pricked her eyes. but deep down, a familiar wave of emotions washed over her, stirring something fragile. "you're such a-"

"a what? a what?" he challenged, cutting her off. "a responsible person? you think i want to see you hurt yourself more than you already have?"

"you don't get it," she said, her voice trembling as her frustration morphed into something more vulnerable. "i don’t want to get it, y/n. stop doing this to yourself if you don't want to paint that image for your name."

“i’m not that bad.”

“keep telling yourself that,” he said, glancing at her as they hit a red light. “but here you are, drunk and needing a ride home.”

“yeah, well…” y/n started, but the warmth of the alcohol mixed with her frustration made her voice waver. “at least you came.”

“you really think that highly of yourself, huh?” he shot back, though there was a hint of something softer in his eyes. “just be grateful i did.” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “i am grateful, you jerk,” she said, her voice suddenly small as she looked down at her lap, fiddling with the ring on her finger. “you’re the only one who shows up when i need help.”

“yeah, well, don’t go getting all sappy on me,” he warned, trying to maintain his usual bravado, but the way his eyes softened gave him away. “it’s not like i’m doing this for the accolades.”

“sure, keep pretending you don’t care,” she replied, feeling the warmth of vulnerability creeping in. “but i see through your tough-guy act.” she shrugged.

“whatever,” he said, pulling into her driveway and turning off the engine. “let’s get you inside before you throw up in my car.”

“you just want to get rid of me,” she teased, but there was an undercurrent of something more serious beneath her words.

“you’re not wrong,” he said, smirking as he opened the door for her. “but it’s not because i don’t want you around. it’s just that your idea of a good time and mine are clearly on different planets.”

“how sweet of you, really,” she said dryly, though with a tone of sarcasm. “you’re lucky i’m feeling generous tonight.”

“generous? is that what you’re calling this?” he laughed, helping her out of the car and steadying her as she swayed slightly. “more like a recipe for disaster,” he retorted with a snarky tone. “shut up, touya,” she said, her voice softer now as they walked toward the door. “just… thanks for being here.”

“don’t mention it,” he replied, his tone lightening a bit. “but if you ever do this again, i’m leaving you to fend for yourself.”

“noted,” she said, a little too aware of how much she wished she could reach out and grab his hand, the feelings simmering beneath the surface threatening to spill over. “but you’re going to be there. i know it.”

“yeah, yeah,” he muttered, shaking his head as he watched her fumble with her keys. “just don’t go falling for me or something.”

her heart raced and she stayed silent, making dabi give her a glance that showed him trying to read her expression. she made sure to turn away from him, especially when he called her name. “gonna try to get some sleep,” she quickly said, using the guardrail to get upstairs and to her room.

y/n felt the wave of nausea wash over her as she laid on her bed, the world spinning around her. the bitter warmth of the alcohol still lingered on her tongue, a reminder of the night’s escapades. she groaned softly, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to block out the throbbing in her head. as the room tilted and swayed, she pushed herself up just enough to pull the blankets over her body, seeking comfort in their warmth.

it wasn't long before she heard the familiar sound of the door creaking open. dabi stepped inside, his usual scowl firmly in place as he leaned against the doorframe. “what a sight,” he muttered, glancing around her room. “you look like you’ve been through a blender.”

“thanks for the compliment,” y/n mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. she felt a bit of embarrassment wash over her as dabi sauntered over and sat on the edge of her bed, pulling out his phone to scroll through it. a part of her wanted to feel grateful, but the way he acted—like he was doing her a favor—was hard to ignore.

---

half an hour ticked by, the silence punctuated only by the sound of his scrolling. but y/n's nausea began to build again, the urge to throw up clawing at her insides like a feral animal. she bit her lip, feeling the heat rise in her throat as she fought against it, but it was no use.

"touya," she whispered, her voice hoarse and shaky. he glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "hey, you alright?" he asked, but his tone was more sarcastic than concerned.

"not really," she muttered, clutching her stomach. before he could retort, she stumbled toward the bathroom, barely managing to reach the toilet before the contents of her stomach surged forth.

"nice going, genius," dabi called after her, his voice dripping with mockery. "you're really winning at this whole 'not throwing up' thing."

y/n heaved, feeling the world tilt precariously beneath her. the bitter taste of the alcohol mixed with the remnants of her dinner assaulted her senses, and she groaned, tears brimming in her eyes.

dabi was right behind her, his cool presence both annoying and comforting as he knelt beside her. "just breathe, y/n," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "try not to make this a regular thing, okay? i’ve got better things to do than babysit you."

as she gasped for air, she could feel his hand resting gently on her back, and despite his snark, there was a genuine concern in his touch. leaning into his hand, she felt a flicker of gratitude amid the chaos.

finally, the wave of nausea receded, leaving her breathless and trembling. dabi stayed close, waiting until she could lift her head and look at him. "feeling better?" he asked, his tone still laced with sarcasm.

"yeah," she whispered, her voice thick with sleepiness.

y/n felt like a train wreck as she sat hunched over the toilet, the remnants of her night swirling in her stomach like a storm. the bitter warmth of the alcohol lingered, and each heave felt like a betrayal to her body. just when she thought she was done, another wave hit her, and she groaned in frustration.

"seriously?" dabi’s voice cut through the haze, low and unimpressed. he leaned against the bathroom doorframe, arms crossed, his expression somewhere between annoyance and concern. "you’ve got to be the worst drunk i’ve ever seen."

"thanks for the encouragement," she managed, glaring at him with half fury, half exhaustion. "what are you doing here, anyway? i thought you didn’t want to babysit me."

"don’t flatter yourself," he shot back, but there was an undercurrent of something softer in his eyes. "i just didn’t want to deal with you throwing up in my car. that’s a real hassle."

"nice to know my well-being is your top priority," she replied sarcastically, but the dizziness made it hard to keep up her bravado. she stumbled back into her room, leaning against the wall as she caught her breath.

dabi followed, eyeing her critically. "you didn’t answer my question earlier, you know. when i said, 'don’t go falling for me,' you totally dodged that." his tone was light, but there was a seriousness in his gaze.

y/n rolled her eyes, trying to brush it off. "what do you care, anyway? you’re always so mean to me!"

crossing his arms again as he leaned against the wall "you don’t get to deflect now. just tell me, why didn’t you respond?"

"maybe i didn’t think it was worth addressing," she replied, her voice shaky, but his intensity made it hard to dismiss him. "really? because it sounded like you were trying to avoid something," he said, narrowing his gaze.

she let out a frustrated huff, flopping onto her bed. "i don’t know, touya. you make it hard to breathe sometimes. i get that you think you’re being helpful, but your sarcasm feels like a shield. and it hurts because i—"

"what is it, y/n?"

"i can’t help but feel something for you," she blurted out, exasperated. "even though you’re mean and a total brat, i… i like having you around, even when you act like you don’t care. and that just makes me feel more frustrated, like i’m some lost cause."

"y/n," he began, but she wasn’t done.

"you push me away, and i don’t understand why. you’re so pretty and infuriatingly attractive, and i hate that i’m drawn to you, but here we are." she sighed, the weight of her confession pressing heavily on her. "and i’m sorry for being a mess. i really am, but sometimes it feels like you’re the only one who sees me. even if it’s from a distance."

dabi watched her in silence, his expression shifting from annoyance to something deeper. "you think that’s what i’m doing?" he asked finally, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice. "pushing you away?"

"maybe," she admitted, feeling the heaviness of the alcohol wrapping around her thoughts. "i don’t know. i just… i feel like every time i try to get closer, you shut me out. it’s like you want to keep me at arm’s length."

he was quiet for a moment, and she could see the gears turning in his head. "and you think i want you to feel like shit?" he asked finally, his tone softer now. "you’re not some joke to me, y/n. you’re just… complicated."

"complicated, huh?" she snorted, her frustration bubbling back to the surface. "that’s one way to put it. you’re so busy being an asshole that you don’t see how much i wish things were different."

"different how?" dabi asked, genuinely intrigued, and for a moment, it felt like she had his full attention.

y/n fidgeted on the bed, her heart racing as she tried to gather her thoughts. "different as in… sometimes i wish you could see me for more than just a nuisance," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "i get that i can be a mess, but it feels like i’m always just… your project to fix."

dabi shifted his weight, an unreadable expression on his face. "you really think i see you that way?" he asked, his tone surprisingly soft.

"i don’t know," she replied, frustration creeping back in. "you’re always so wrapped up in your own world, and it makes me feel like i’m chasing after you for attention. i guess… i just wish you could let me in. i want to be someone you want around, not just someone you tolerate."

he remained silent, watching her with an intensity that made her heart flutter and ache all at once. "you’re not just a project, y/n." he finally said, his voice low. "but you’ve got to understand that i’m not great at this stuff. i’m not the guy who knows how to make things easy."

"yeah, i get that. but…" she sighed, struggling to find the right words. "it’s hard not to feel something more when you’re the one who shows up for me, even when i’m at my lowest. it’s like i can’t help but want you to be part of my life, in every way. and that scares me."

dabi opened his mouth as if to respond, but then fell silent again, letting the weight of her words hang between them. y/n could feel the tears pricking at her eyes, and she quickly wiped them away, not wanting to show that kind of vulnerability. "i’m such a dumbass," she mumbled, forcing a laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. "i shouldn’t be pouring my heart out to you when i’m like this."

"y/n—"

"no, really, forget it," she interrupted, her voice cracking. "i just… i don’t want you to think i’m some lovesick idiot or anything. it’s just hard to ignore what i feel when you’re right here, acting like you don’t care. i’m sorry for being such a mess."

dabi let out a sigh, unable to speak, and only shook his head in frustration. y/n wasn’t the only one at a crossroads. he too knew that there was something up with the way he felt. he always felt it, but the feeling only got stronger when he was around y/n. the feelings brought him confusion, and dabi hated that feeling, hence the reason why he took it out on y/n anytime they were in the same vicinity of one another.

right now, he was failing to realize his true feelings. he failed to point out what it was exactly. he hated the feeling, and as he stared down at y/n, whose eyes were gradually heavying with sleep as stray tears dried, it only worsened.

he knew something was there, and it killed him since he didn’t know what.

---

as the morning light streamed through the curtains, y/n slowly stirred awake on her bed, the remnants of last night flooding her mind like a relentless tide. the dull ache in her head reminded her of the shots she'd had-and the impulsive confession she'd made to dabi. she sat up, rubbing her temples, and glanced around her room, half-expecting to find him sprawled beside her. but the bed was empty, and a wave of relief washed over her.

after a moment, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, the wooden floor cool against her bare feet. y/n took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing thoughts. she stood up, feeling slightly unsteady, and made her way to the bathroom to splash some water on her face and brush the taste of last night's mistakes from her mouth. the cool water helped, but did little to erase the embarrassment now gnawing at her chest.

once she felt somewhat human again, she headed downstairs, the house settling into its usual stillness. glancing into the living room, y/n was surprised to see dabi lying on the couch, still fast asleep. the sight of him made her cringe, her mind replaying fragments of last night's disaster. she sighed, scolding herself as she stepped into the kitchen and set the kettle on the stove.

the kettle's whistle was loud, painfully so, and she cringed, knowing it might wake him. grabbing two mugs from the cabinet, she placed them on the counter, her mind swirling with thoughts of how to navigate the morning ahead. she wanted to avoid him, but the temptation to face him and clear the air was stronger.

while the memories of the night were hazy, she recalled enough to feel mortified-her indirect confession, the sting of tears, and the bitter taste of regret. she felt like a mess, and her pounding headache only confirmed it.

y/n rubbed her eyes, trying to shake the weight of last night's events, but dabi's voice cut through her thoughts.

"morning."

she poured hot water over the tea bags she'd placed in the mugs, nodding in response as she turned to hand him one. his hair was disheveled, his clothes wrinkled, and the remnants of sleep lingered in his eyes. "morning," she muttered quietly.

just as she was about to leave the kitchen, his hand caught her wrist. "what are you doing?"

her gaze avoided his, her usual confidence nowhere to be found until he spoke up again. "about last night-"

"forget about last night," she interrupted, her voice wavering. "i was drunk. didn't mean to say all that bullshit. i'm sorry."

"why are you apologizing?"

"because last night was a complete shit-show. i can't handle my liquor, and i don't even know why i drank so much, but i regret it. i put us in an awkward situation, and i'm sorry for that." she spoke in one hurried breath, not giving him a chance to respond before continuing. "i'm not expecting anything from you out of pity for feelings i know can't be returned. i just... i'm sorry."

she tried to pull away from his grip, but he held her in place. "touya, it's fine. let go. keeping me here, forcing me to face you, is torture."

"you done whining?"

"i'm not whining." her brow furrowed as she finally met his gaze with a glare. he set his tea down on the counter, and before she could react, his hands were on her cheeks, pulling her in close.

"touya..." she whispered cautiously.

"don't freak out."

and with that, his lips were on hers, warm and firm, leaving no room for doubt. it was a rash decision on dabi's part, driven by a feeling he didn't fully understand. but it was real, and for once, he wasn't running from it.

there was no hesitation, no second thoughts, just the warmth of the moment. y/n's hands instinctively gripped his shirt, pulling him closer as their lips moved in sync. dabi's hand slipped to her waist, tugging her toward him until their bodies were pressed together, a sigh escaping his lips.

the kiss broke suddenly, leaving y/n breathless and dabi smirking slightly. "i think that went better than your confession. i win."

"shut up, touya. it's not a competition."

"oh yeah?" he teased, but his voice softened as he let out a deep sigh. for dabi, apologies didn't come naturally. he scratched the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze as he leaned against the counter. "look," he began gruffly, "i'm not good at this. feelings, whatever. you already know that, so don't act surprised."

y/n remained silent, her eyes focused on him, waiting.

"i didn't mean to make you think i didn't care," he continued, clearly struggling with his words. "i just... don't do all the emotional crap. alright?"

the silence between them was palpable, her gaze heavy on him as he clenched his jaw in frustration.

"i don't know what the hell i'm supposed to say. i didn't even realize i was feeling... anything until recently. and you think i know how to handle that?" he laughed dryly, rubbing a hand over his face. "i'm not used to it. but i don't want you thinking i don't give a damn."

finally, he met her eyes, his expression more serious than usual. "i want to be with you. i don't know how to say it right, and i'll probably mess up again, but... i'm not blowing you off. this is just... new for me."

he shoved his hands in his pockets, half-turning as if he were done, but then muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for her to hear, "i care, y/n. more than i thought i could. so... there. happy now?"

it wasn't the most graceful confession, but for dabi, it was as close to vulnerability as y/n had ever seen. and she accepted it, even if she couldn't resist teasing him.

"wow, touya," she said, crossing her arms. "that was almost... cute. maybe you should write a book on feelings. 'how not to apologize 101."

"oh, fuck off, y/n."

with a sudden pull, dabi wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her toward the couch. "what are we doing?" she asked, stumbling slightly. "barely got any sleep last night because of you," he grumbled, settling back and pulling her onto his chest. "so, we're fixing that." he sighed. "what if i don't want to sleep?"

"you do realize talking to me instead of sleeping is like asking a cat to fetch, right?" he groaned, pulling her closer.

"fine."

"thanks," he muttered, closing his eyes. "and y/n?" his voice was soft now. "hmm?" she questioned.

"i'm shit at communication so i know i don't have the right to say this, but promise me it won't take you getting wasted to tell me something that important again."

"deal."

"no. say you promise."

"i promise, touya."

with a kiss on her forehead, silence fell between them-this time, it was peaceful, a welcome contrast to the chaos of the night before.

got a request? send it in and i'll write it :D

Taglist: @nemoo888 @delicatexmoonchild @flowerpjimin @tedcruzumakii @sugacor3 @selysixn @mitsuyas-version @matchaismylove @cyberrthegreat @ivydoesit23 @riririntaro @ilovechickfilasauce @sincerelyzee @daydreamteardrop @satorusluvrgirl @tired-jaz

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violent-darkness · 2 days

Text

Stress Relief

Billy Butcher x You

Warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, angst.

Summary: You struggle with your feelings for Butcher while he grapples with his own demons. The stress from trying to take down Homelander is weighing heavily on his shoulders. You desperately try to help him and ease his tension one way or another. Despite Butcher’s reluctance, you are determined to break through his defenses.

The obnoxious ringing echoed across the empty office space and startled you. You peeked at your phone screen: “Come to our bar now, some hot men are buying us drinks.” You chuckled. Back in the day, these types of texts from your bff would get you up and going in an instant. But lately, things have been a little different. You glanced at Butcher’s empty desk and let out a deep sigh. The made-up excuse was always work, but the truth was that ever since your drunk make-out session with him a few months ago, you didn’t really want anyone else. If only he were of the same opinion. The following day he gave you a whole speech about how it was a mistake and you deserved better. He’d been acting like nothing happened ever since. Although you regularly caught him staring at you, when he thought you weren’t watching, his gaze lingering with an intensity that made your heart race.

Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the man himself. Billy Butcher stormed in, his hurried footsteps pounding like a war drum. The sound reverberated through the empty office. He slammed the door behind him so hard that it almost came off its hinges.

You bit your lip, trying to gauge his mood. He barely seemed to notice your presence and headed straight to his desk. Grabbing a bottle of vodka from the cabinet, he gulped down several large swigs. He was panting heavily, eyes filled with rage.

“Billy…” you uttered. This was the first time he actually looked at you. His gaze softened, but just for a moment, before his face twisted in anger again.

“Stay out of it,” he grunted as he headed for the door.

“Look, I know that you want to bring down Homelander more than anything. We all fucking do. But it’s starting to wear you down,” you confronted him. The truth was no one from the team really liked him. Everyone but you thought that he was an asshole. His increasing irritability and tension lately only bothered them because he was even more unbearable than usual. But you didn’t care about that. You could see right through his bullshit and knew that this was simply a mask, a little show he put on to keep people at a distance. You were desperately trying to break through and make him lower his guard.

But instead Butcher gave you a death stare. “I ain’t slowin' down until I put down the wanker,” he hissed at you.

“At least talk to someone… Talk to me. Let me help you,” you pleaded.

“Ain’t no way you can help me, luv.” He waved his hand dismissively and exited, leaving the air thick with unresolved feelings.

You stared at his retreating figure, heart racing with frustration and worry amidst the eerily quiet office space. Why couldn’t he see that you wanted to help? Your mind raced, refusing to surrender. Butcher was the one who found you in that garbage of a life you had and offered you a chance on his team. He practically saved you and never once judged you for your past or the horrible things you’d done. You owed him big time and were determined to find a way to help him. You got up from your desk and started pacing across the room. Suddenly your eyes widened and a look of satisfaction crossed your face. If he was unwilling to talk, then perhaps there were other ways to reach him. The idea was good, but had the potential to end up as a complete disaster for you. You went to Butcher’s desk and grabbed the bottle of vodka. With what you were about to do, you needed all the support you could get. The heavy smell of alcohol made you wince, but you took a few gulps anyway before grabbing your jacket and walking out of the office.

His apartment was close by. You just hoped he would be there and not in some bar, drinking himself into oblivion. He opened the door on the third knock, just as you were about to give up. “Bloody hell, what are ya doin’ here?” His brows furrowed and he almost shut the door right back in your face, but you swiftly pushed him inside. Without giving him a second to think, you pressed your lips to his, your tongue seeking access to his mouth, which he willingly provided. It was a messy, passionate kiss, reflecting the unspoken desire you had for one another. But when the initial rush passed, Butcher came to his senses, grabbed you by the shoulders, and pulled you away. His brows arched as he gave you a long stare, still catching his breath. It wasn’t often that this man was left speechless, but you’d managed to do it. “We don’t have to talk, you know, we can just fuck. I can help you take the edge off,” you held his gaze and smirked at him, trying your best to put on a confident face. He made a long pause. You could see the internal struggle written all over his face. His eyes were filled with desire as he reached his hand toward your face, but stopped midway and let it fall back to his side.

“You should leave,” he finally muttered, averting his gaze. Your heart sunk into your stomach. Frustration surged as you tried to break through the concrete wall he was hiding behind. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me you don’t want me too. I’ve seen the way you look at me, when you think I am not watching.” Butcher clenched his jaw, still looking away. You noticed him tensing, fighting his internal demons. Silence. Complete and utter silence. A flush of redness crept up your neck. You suddenly felt like a complete fool, being so bluntly rejected by him. It was too much, even for you. “Fuck you, Billy,” you finally hissed at him and made a few steps towards the door, feeling completely embarrassed. “I’m only gonna ruin you, doll. You got no place around a cunt like me. Better stay away,” his voice was gruff, weighed down by unspoken truths. But for the first time there was a hint of vulnerability in it. You turned around to look at him. He was staring at the floor, looking so sad and broken that it made your heart ache. You closed the distance between the two of you and he didn’t object. “Don’t push me away, Billy,” you spoke softly, sincerely. “Haven’t you understood by now? I am not afraid of the real you. Never have been. On the contrary, I want you to show me the monster you claim to be.”

His eyes widened as he turned to look at you once again. You knelt before him and reached for the belt of his jeans. “Let me ease some of your tension. Make you forget about a shitty day in a shitty life. I want nothing more than that. Please, Billy, let me. Please, please, please, you need this so much. And I do too,” you begged him, putting yourself entirely at his mercy, fully aware how pathetic you sounded.

Butcher knew that you were too young and too good for him. He didn’t want to drag you down into the dirt with him. He wanted to stop you - to protect you from his chaos. He really did. But how could he? He was thinking about you constantly ever since you joined the team. You had occupied the deepest, darkest corners of his brain. The drunken hookup was a mistake he swore he would never repeat. But ever since then, it was the only thing he thought about when he touched himself. The way you were begging him now—so needy, so desperate for him—made him painfully hard. He had no strength left to continue fighting with himself.

Butcher tried to stop you. He really did. But instead he watched as you unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. The sheer sight of your small, gentle hand gripping his pulsating cock, made him go feral. At that moment he was completely gone. His fingers clenched your hair and pushed the whole length of his cock in your throat. You couldn’t breathe and started gagging, but Butcher didn’t care. He started controlling your movements, guiding your head back and forth across his length, shedding the tension from the bad day he’d had piece by piece. At some point he pulled out to look at your face - makeup all smeared and eyes teary. He really liked the sight of you in this condition. So dirty for him. It was a million times better than his fantasies.

“You want to see the monster, huh?” Butcher teased, and you nodded enthusiastically, your cunt throbbing painfully for him.

“Are you sure you can take it? Such a fragile lil’ thing you are?” He brushed his thumb along your cheek.

“Please, I can take it,” you whimpered, filled with longing, the intensity of your feelings evident in the quiver of your breath.

“So desperate,” Butcher snickered. The way you begged him made him want to do unspeakable things to you, to see how far he could go. Before you knew it, he spat in your face and dragged you by your hair across the floor, tossing you onto the bed like a sack of potatoes. “Spread your legs,” he ordered imperiously, placing his large hand on your throat. With the other he grabbed his cock, pressed the tip on your clit and started rubbing it. Waves of pleasure began spreading across your body. Amidst your intensifying moans, he pushed deep inside you with one harsh thrust, not giving you time to adjust to his size. Your moan turned into a scream. “Billy…” you winced.

“Tsk, tsk, you asked for this, luv,” he taunted, not bothering to temper his movements. Pretty soon, his steady rhythm combined with the slight pressure he applied on your throat transformed your pain into pleasure and you began purring in his ear. He felt so good, reaching all your sensitive spots, filling you up completely. His weight was pressing down on you, the heat of his body mixing with the distinct scent of musk and vodka. His hand, which was tightly curled around your throat, gave him full control over you. You were merely his stress relief, a tool he used. The pressure was gradually building up within you as you were nearing your climax. Butcher could sense that you were close, probably one or two thrusts away, when he stopped abruptly. This created a void inside you. You started squirming and whimpering, trying to pull him toward you, which only made him chuckle.

“You are not coming just yet,” he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“Please,” you begged and whimpered, but he paid no attention to your pleas as he turned you on your stomach and pinned your head on the bed. He gave you a hard slap on your butt, before shoving his cock deep inside you once again. His movements were fast and intensive, eager. The movements of someone who’d been needing a proper fuck for a long time. Every thrust washed away the tension that had built up over the past months, untying the knot in his stomach, making him forget all the dirt. And how could he not? In front of him was a fragile little thing with a perfect cunt, that basically begged him to snap her in two. You made him forget all his worries, because at this moment fucking you was the only thing that mattered in the world. You were a far better remedy than alcohol or any other drug he had ever tasted.

He started rubbing your clit with consistent circular motions. The added pleasure was too much to handle, sending you over the edge. Your orgasm exploded inside you, turning you into a wreck - legs shaking uncontrollably, screams and whimpers. Seeing you break down on his cock like this was too much for Butcher. His thrusts became more intense, choppy. He followed you soon after and with a few final movements pumped his cum deep inside you, letting out a loud groan. The high from his orgasm acted like a veil, clouding all his worries. He lingered in that blissful moment, savoring the connection with you, trying to make it last as long as possible. After a while, he laid back on the bed, his legs trembling slightly, and pulled you into his embrace.

“You feeling better?” you placed a soft kiss on his cheek, after a long moment of silence filled only with your shared panting.

“Fuckin’ hell, you really are somethin’.” For the first time in months, you saw a genuine smile on Butcher’s lips as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

#billy butcher #the boys #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x you #karl urban #billy butcher smut #the boys tv #billy butcher fic #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher brainrot go brr #billy butcher oneshot

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k-slla · 13 hours

Text

It'll always end the same

(just look at this fucking guy🫠...I can't get him out of my head...)

A/N: Well, hii, I'm back! Hopefully the muses came to stay for good now ;) It's been a while since I've written anything and this idea was something that just came to me today, and now it's fully written down and I'm happy with it..I hope you'll like it too!

All mistakes are mine!

Soldier Boy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, mention of drugs, hair pulling, rough sex, unprotected PinV, implied blowjob, dirty talk...I hope I didn't miss any, if I did, feel free to correct me:)

Word count: 1.5k | My Masterlist

ENJOY!

No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't stay away from him. Even when you knew it would always end up the same way, you doing your walk of shame at 4am, all fucked, shaking and weary, he always managed to pull you back in.

Ever since you started to distance yourself from him, you quickly realized it would not be easy. He was like a drug. If you'd be asked to pick one specific to describe him?

Heroin.

Extremely addictive. Dangerous. Lethal.

“You just can't stay away from me, can you, sweetheart?” He panted roughly into your ear as he kept ramming his cock so deep into you, it made you moan so loudly, that all the sounds echoed in the room around you. Possibly the whole floor of his apartment building could hear you, but neither of you really cared about that little detail.

So here you were again - at his apartment, pushed against the wall as he took you from behind. You couldn't even force yourself to answer him, only sounds coming out of you were the desperate cries as he got you nearing yet another climax. You had lost count on how many times you had orgasmed already. But you loved it. Maybe a little too much. It had started to feel like getting fucked into oblivion by him was the only way you'd be able to cum. Even if you wouldn't admit it out loud to yourself(or to him), you knew it was the only way you wanted to cum.

Because you tried. Every time that you said it would be the last time with him, you had tried to forget him. But of course no one came close to him. No man was comparable to him. You knew it well, but still you gave your best to get him out of your system. But it all came crashing down each and every time. So you always ended up craving another hit of the most addictive drug you knew. Soldier Boy.

“How long was it this time? Two weeks? That's gotta be a new record for you, doll…” He cooed mockingly behind you, harshly pulling your head back so you'd be forced to look him into his eyes. “And yet you came crawling back to me. Pathetic.” He hissed as he looked at the total mess you already were.

He released your hair quickly and you immediately leaned your head forward against the wall for some support. Your legs were just so close to giving up. Your whole body was close to giving up.

“I-I.. please.. I..I need a break…can't.. can't take it..” you whined out when he suddenly yanked your hips back towards him after your body instinctively started to search a way out from him.

“You need a break? You can't take it, huh?” He repeated your pleas, with a hint of warning in his voice. You knew he wouldn't listen to you. He almost never did. “I can't give you a break, sweetheart. Do you know why?” He stopped moving inside you for a moment, words leaving his lips in hot gasps as he pulled your back against his chest. He gave you a chance to breathe and you knew it meant that he was expecting a serious response from you.

You breathed deeply in and out, shuddering moans leaving your wrecked body with each exhale while you rested against his warm body. You took a moment to gather a coherent thought to answer him. “Because…mmgnh…because I came to you?”

Soldier Boy pulled himself out of your oversensitive and trembling cunt and turned you around to face him.

“That is exactly right, doll…you came to me. And you always come here with one thing in your mind, don't you? I'm just giving you what you're searching for, aren't I?”

His eyes took in the completely disheveled state you were in right now. You were teary from the overwhelming pleasure he has given you for the past few hours already. Your hair was stuck on your sweaty forehead and your lips were red and swollen from biting back your moans and taking his bruising kisses. He ran his thumb lightly over your mouth as you stared up at him with wide eyes.

When he saw that you were in no condition to answer him further, he just continued talking, his voice low and almost threatening. “You always come to me. And you know, you goddamn know that you're the only one I lose control with. The sounds you make…the sight of you so…so ruined by me…they get me higher than any drug known to man…”

He stroked your cheek lightly for a second, looking into your eyes…almost apologetically. But then his eyes flashed darkly and he grabbed onto your jaw roughly, making you wince in pain.

“You know what I need to hear, when you can't take it anymore, doll. And you know that this is the only way to get me to stop. But you know better than to use that without cause, don't you?”

His eyes roamed over your face, now a knowing glint shining in them. A slow smirk appeared on his face before he continued. “But you don't really want me to stop…Is that why you haven't used it yet?” His other hand dug into your hip, squeezing the soft skin as he pulled you flush against him again.

He let go of your jaw and then you realized you held your breath the entire time he was talking to you. Your chest heaved as you gasped for air. You stood there against the wall, trembling, as Soldier Boy took a step back to get a good look at you.

“Are you just toying with me? Is this a game for you, sweetheart?” He then asked seriously.

A cold shiver ran through your core as you saw the look in his eyes. “No! No, I'm not…toying with you.”

Soldier Boy squinted his eyes at you. “Oh, so then were you lying, sweetheart?” Eyeing you down like a predator would do to his prey, he started to close the distance between you again. “Because you know I definitely won't tolerate that.”

“No! I wasn't…I was just—” You tried to justify yourself to him, but the words died on your lips as you slowly realized that there was no way for you to squirm out of the situation you got yourself into. “I just needed a little break..”

“Hmpf…” Soldier Boy hummed, seemingly lost in thought as he stared down your body. Looking at the little beads of sweat on your forehead, the way your lips trembled as you were heavily breathing. His eyes then traveled further down your neck, admiring all the hickeys and little bruises from his not-so-gentle touches. His hands moved onto your waist, squeezing a little before his right hand quickly found its way between your legs. His fingers brushed lightly over your sensitive clit, a mocking smile creeping onto his lips as soon as he saw you jerk at the gentle caress he gave you.

“Okay, doll…you've taken a lot tonight…” he said after a moment of silence. His fingers were still rubbing your clit, drawing out lewd moans from you. “I'll give that little pussy a moment to rest…but just so you know. I don't need a break, so we'll just have to find another useful purpose for you, won't we?” He teased you with a sickly sweet voice, slowly bringing his hand upwards, pushing his fingers past your plump lips, giving you a taste of yourself.

“Mmm…that would feel good…that filthy little mouth of yours…” He was speaking so quietly, it seemed like he was trying to convince himself to give your mouth a chance to pleasure him, even though he knew well enough about your blowjob skills, having experienced them firsthand multiple times before.

“On your knees, sweetheart. You know what to do.”

You let out a small whimper, feeling like you were not ready for it yet. “Please…just give me five more minutes…please..”

His fingers locked in your hair, and he chuckled, sound coming out all sinister all of sudden. “No, doll. You either stop everything or you get down on your knees.”

Seeing he'll get no reaction out of you this way, he yanked on your hair harder, gritting the words as he spoke. “Will you say the word? Do you want this to stop? Answer me.”

You knew your little tantrum had pissed him off already, so you shook your head softly. “N-no..”

He took a step even closer to you, grabbing your chin to turn your face up to his. “Then. Get. On. The. Goddamn. Floor. Doll. Now.”

He grabbed your shoulder and pushed down to your knees, pulling up your face. “Eyes on me, sweetheart…”

He stepped closer to you, his feet planted on either side of your knees, while he looked down at you with a smile, guiding his throbbing cock towards your lips. “Be a good girl now…open up that pretty little mouth wide for me…”

You knew you were in no position to talk back to him, so you did what he asked.

The night was still young and you knew it would take a good couple of more hours before you would get the desired hit to soothe your addiction that is called Soldier Boy. Then you'd be free to leave, pretending once again that this was the last time you came searching for him.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Feedback/reblogs are appreciated! 🫶

Taglist: @jackles010378 @nescavaneck @cevansbaby-dove @deanwinchestersgirl87 @winchesterwild78 @anundyingfidelity @suckitands33 @waynes-multiverse

#soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy smut #jensen ackles #the boys #soldier boy x female reader #smut

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call-me-little-sunshine84 · 2 days

Text

Last Call

Patrick "Paddy" Feld (Speak No Evil) x female reader

MDNI - 18+

pairing - Paddy x female reader

summary - working at a small pub, you meet a sexy mystery man. He's just another customer - until he's not

w/c - 1400+

t/w - unprotected sex, Paddy is a tiny bit rough (he's a trigger warning by himself), mirror play?

a/n - not sure what it says about me that this morally bankrupt character is the one who broke me out of my year+ long writer's block, but here we are. For the purposes of this, reader has no idea what Paddy gets up to in his spare time

Starting over was such a pain in the ass. You never pictured that you would be here, 30 and divorced. It had come as such a surprise that your head was still reeling. Deciding on a clean break, you had packed up your belongings, taking little more than the essentials and your beloved cat, and set off, leaving everything and everyone you knew behind.

Settling in a little village in the West Country, you found yourself adjusting to your new life a lot easier than you expected. The pace was so much slower there compared to the city, and you quickly found a job bartending in a small pub. You loved working nights, listening to the stories exchanged by the locals. You mainly dealt with the same group of regulars, and their welcoming attitude was helping you to come out of your shell.

You had first noticed him come in late one Saturday night. He was the kind of man who commanded everyone’s attention. He was loud and outspoken, his voice and laughter carrying throughout the room. You overheard some of the other customers call him Paddy.

You were immediately attracted to him, his demeanor so different from your ex that it was intoxicating. He always flirted with you, but you never took it to mean anything since he was that way with everyone. The more you were around him though, the more he began to consume your thoughts. Picturing the way those muscular arms would feel wrapped around you, how his stubble would feel against your thighs when he was between your legs…

There was just one problem - he was married. His wife was always with him. She actually seemed really nice, which only served to make you feel more guilty about the amount of time you spent fantasizing about her husband. That’s all it ever could be though - you might be a lot of things, but you weren’t a homewrecker. You and your vibrator had become best friends. You could at least have him in your head, right?

Maybe that was why you were so flustered when you realized that this particular night he came in alone. “Hey Paddy, what can I get you?” you asked, trying to keep your expression neutral. It was becoming harder and harder to be around him, and you didn’t know what to do about it. “Surprise me,” he replied, watching you as you poured him a drink and slid it over.

“Where’s Ciara?” you asked. An expression you couldn’t quite judge crossed his face before he replied. “She’s not feeling well and decided to stay home.” Your heart sped up at the thought that you could spend time with him alone. And you did - when you weren’t busy with someone else, Paddy kept you entertained with endless stories and conversation. The other patrons began paying their tabs and heading for the exit. Realizing that just you and he were left in the building, you checked your watch. You couldn’t believe the time.

“Last call. Can I get you anything else?” you asked as you dried the glass in your hand. The old jukebox in the corner was belting out Black Velvet. It was a little too perfect. He looked at you, his expression suddenly serious. “I do want something else, but it’s a little off-menu. “What on earth are you talking about?” you asked, having no idea where this was going.

“Darlin’, what I want is you .” Your stomach felt like it dropped out of your body. Is this really happening?? “B-b-but what about Ciara?” you stammered, barely able to string a sentence together. “It’s fine, occasionally we dine out. Helps keep it fresh. She doesn’t care,” he replied, standing and walking his way behind the bar toward you.

You couldn’t hear the music anymore, just the deafening sound of your heartbeat pounding. He stood in front of you, and your brain froze. All you could think was that he smelled so damn good, so manly, and it made your mouth water.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me. I think you want this as much as I do,” he said. The look on his face was half smile, half cocky smirk, and it made you want to rip his clothes off. Instead, you just nodded, throwing the towel you were holding to the side. Quickly making sure the door was locked and flipping over the closed sign, you returned to him.

He leaned in, tracing his fingertips down your jawline, kissing you slowly at first. You could taste the alcohol on his breath. Backing you up against the bar top, you could see the lust in his eyes. He looked almost hungry.

The heat inside you was already building as his tongue licked a line down your collarbone. Throwing your tank top off to the side, he traced the lace edge of your bra and groaned. “Mmmm, so beautiful darlin’,” he said, unhooking it and throwing it behind you to land on a bottle of whiskey. The chill in the air immediately hardened your nipples, which he took turns taking inside his warm mouth. Your brain felt like cotton candy, all coherent thoughts leaving you as he expertly sucked and bit at you.

Removing the last of your clothes, you stood bare before him. “This seems a little one sided, Paddy,” you teased as you stripped him of everything he had on. Once he was also naked and you really looked at him, you sucked in a breath. He was even more gorgeous than you thought possible.

He wasted little time with foreplay, turning you around and bending you over a nearby stool. He teased your entrance, but you didn’t think anything could prepare you for his size. He took his time, letting you adjust to the sweet stretch of him filling you up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his hands resting on your hips. You nodded, and then all bets were off. He slammed into you, fully enveloping himself in your warmth. “Damn, you’re so tight,” he grunted as he worked your body over. “S-s-s-sorry, it’s been a while,” you managed to choke out between thrusts. “Feels so fucking perfect,” he replied, his hands roaming all over you. You could already feel that familiar pressure building in your abdomen, impending bliss already blooming inside you.

One hand gripped your breast and the other reached up and wrapped around your throat. Applying slight pressure, he pulled your upper body taut. There was a giant mirror behind the bar. “I want you to look up. Watch yourself while I fuck you,” he whispered in your ear. Fingertips dug into your throat just a little tighter, riding that fine line between pleasure and pain, and you did just that.

You didn’t recognize the version of yourself you saw in the mirror’s reflection. Disheveled hair, sweat beginning to drip down your face, you looked happy for the first time in a long time.

“Paddy,” you moaned, bucking your hips back into him even harder. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, you’re going to watch me make you cum,” he growled.

You had never felt more exposed, or more aroused. Your ex would never have dared to talk to you this way during sex. Paddy was unlocking some primal side to you, and you were loving every minute. His hand moved away from your throat, allowing you to breathe fully again. He started rubbing slow circles on your clit. Contrasting with the fast pace at which he was still thrusting into you, it felt like all your nerve endings were on fire. You felt yourself about to tip over the edge. Still watching your reflection in the mirror, your orgasm washed over you in a wave. “That’s my girl. You look so beautiful when you’re coming undone,” Paddy said, fucking you through your high. While you were still clenching around him, he also came, filling you full.

Almost collapsing against the bar top, your body felt like jelly. He slowly pulled himself out of you. He threw his pants back on and retrieved your scattered clothes, handing them to you. “I’ll never be able to look at this place the same way again,” you said, cheeks burning as you glanced at the mirror behind him.

“So, same time next week?” he asked with a wink. That familiar heat started to build just thinking of the possibilities. You watched him walk toward the door, his jeans hugging him in all the right places. “I’ll be here.”

#speak no evil #james mcavoy #paddy x female reader #patrick feld #paddy speak no evil #speak no evil 2024 #paddy smut

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mimismenu · 9 hours

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ℳy seatmate is the best man? ⸝⸝

꒰ 💒 ꒱ 𝒫ark 𝒮unghoon [성훈] : 𝒪neshot!

𝓰enre : fluffy fluffy fluff!

𝓹airing : non-idol,,best man sunghoon x maid of honor fem reader.

𝓢ynopsis : you just so happen to sit beside a handsome man on the plane when traveling to your best friend’s wedding destination– only to embarrass yourself by spilling some of your drink on him. however, what happens when you find out he’s the best man at said wedding– can you avoid him through the whole weekend? or does fate hold a different outcome?

𝔀arning(s) : prepare to feel some embarrassment and see some sickeningly cute content.

𝔀ord 𝓬ount : 1310

꒰ 💬 ꒱ 𝓂i 𝓃ote :

this idea came to me so suddenly, i had to get crafting. this is actually one of my favorites– and it of course includes a musical element. (play we are stars by the pierces for the full effect!) to my regulars, you probably think this’ll have more singing– but it’s just a dance scene. i hope you enjoy it, and if you do, please like and reblog. it’s always appreciated. <33

enjoy, my lovely readers. xoxo, mi.

also! this one is dedicated to my sweet @pshbites aka cutie kai who is so dear to my heart. please check out her smau as well, love on air!

this tale begins with a flight– a journey packed with clumsiness, brooding, and discovery. while this love story falls beneath the cliche archetype, within no means does it reflect the traditional style of romance.

and it all started with marriage, funny enough.

you see, your best friend, mariella, scheduled her wedding over the expanse of a three-day weekend. your flight was expected to land in verona, italy– her destination of choice– by 2pm on friday.

when you arrived at the airport, everything was running rather smoothly; despite the grumpy staff who glared as if you prevented them from enjoying their morning coffee. you’d succeeded in checking your luggage and proceeding through the extensive security, settled at your boarding gate before your flight.

and it seemed anxiety free, because once you’d boarded the plane, you’d found your assigned seat which happened to be an empty row– where you'd be sat beside the window.

it truly couldn’t have gotten any better… right?

oh, how wrong you were. any trip was bound to have a bump in the road– at least that’s what your gut screamed.

an incredibly handsome boy– that you would assume is your age– sat beside you, lost in his own world of headphones and music. through the hours of being in his presence, you’d sneak glances from your romance novel to admire his features.

and even if he did notice, he made no comment, content as the flight continued. however, when the flight approached its landing and everyone was discarding their garbage– your clumsiness appeared at the forefront.

the flight attendant approached your row, holding out a garbage bag with gentle hands, to which you attempted to reach over and dispose of your half-empty water cup. except, you’d lost your grip, the liquid splattering all over your cute seatmate’s hoodie, causing you to release a gasp.

“oh my gosh, i am so incredibly sorry–” you frantically apologize, glancing up at the boy, eyes wide with horror.

the male simply stared at you with crinkled eyes, a playful smile on his face. “it’s alright, no harm done here. it’s only water, it’ll dry.”

from that moment onward, throughout the twenty minutes it took for the plane to land and to exit the aircraft– you’d avoided glancing in his direction, even scooting to the far left of your seat.

and when you’d exited your flight? you immediately rushed to find your best friend who’d agreed to meet you at baggage claim, leaving the embarrassing experience behind you.

but, miraculously, you found yourself at mariella’s wedding rehearsal that same night, meeting the groomsmen for the first time. and to your surprise, the best man just happened to be him.

the same boy from the plane, your seatmate, and the one you’d spilled water all over.

he’d literally be your partner walking down the aisle, the one you lock arms with.

“well, shit.” you muttered under your breath at the sight of his pearly smile, proceeding to shake hands in greeting– to which you’d learned that his name is sunghoon.

even as rehearsal continued, you’d avoided him at all costs, outside of practicing the ceremony. it was dreadful to put simply, that your embarrassment would continue to follow you with every glance in his direction.

thankfully, nobody noticed– not mariella, not the groom, jake– and anybody else in the bride and groom’s respective parties.

it was now saturday, the day of the wedding. you’d completed the process of getting ready, assisting the other girls with their makeup and hair– each of you dolled up in mariella’s chosen color. pictures were taken for each party, the bride and groom, and any others that the couple requested.

the ceremony began early into the day, the process running as expected, effortless after the continual practice from the night before. despite the unease of being beside sunghoon, he kept you grounded, ensuring that no mistakes were made as he guided you down the aisle.

and as the ceremony concluded and led into the festivities of the reception, you chose to be alone. with no plus one, or much connection with the other guests.

despite the few words you’d shared with your best friend, it was her day, and you didn’t want to distract her from the joy of her union with your sulking.

you’d watched with a smile as the newly wedded couple shared their first dance, overjoyed to see mariella have her happy ending.

even throughout your speech, dinner, and the disperse of their cake– you’d lingered at your assigned seat, fiddling with your fingers.

with music playing in the background, guests began to crowd the dance floor, freely congratulating and celebrating with the bride and groom, smiles and laughter throughout the hall.

and as a slow song played, a figure kneeled in front of you– your eyes trailing to meet his.

“hey, pretty girl.” sunghoon greets with the softest voice, extending his hand. “come dance with me.” he invites, waiting for you to place your palm in his.

with a soft sigh, you stare up at him with unease, biting the inside of your cheek.

“okay.” you agree, placing your palm in his– allowing him anchorage to tug you gently from your seat.

“we are stars,” the music hums in the background as he guides you onto the dancefloor, hands finding a secure place on your waist.

“relax, sweetheart.” he mutters, only loud enough for you to hear, urging you to stand beneath the shadow of his towering frame.

“fashioned in the flesh and bone, we are islands,” the music envelopes you and sunghoon, granting a bubble of privacy.

“you’re beautiful.” he praises, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of his lip.

“thank you.” you whisper, staring up into his dark orbs, captured in a dance of longing and discovery.

“excuses to remain alone, we are moons,” swaying with one another, you avert your gaze for a moment before returning it to him.

“y/n.” he calls, raising a hand to capture your chin between the pad of his thumb and knuckle of his forefinger.

“yes?” you question slowly, entranced by his sharp features and moles littered across his skin.

“throw ourselves around each other, we are oceans,” he admires you for a brief pause, his expression softening.

“you spilling water on me was an accident.” sunghoon firmly mutters, as if trying to convince you.

“i..” you try to speak, only to be cut off by his next words– in which you release a sigh.

“it doesn’t need to be carried with us.” he finishes, dipping his head to lean closer to you.

“being controlled by the pull of another,”

“and i, just wanna be loved by you,”

“your clumsiness doesn’t harm me, in fact, it only made me want to be closer to you.” sunghoon admits, his lips brushing against your forehead in a quick kiss.

“give me a chance, pretty girl.” he retracts from your skin, causing you to stare up at him.

“yeah i, just wanna be loved by you,”

“okay.” you agree, nodding your head in a visual display of your consent. “i’d like that.” you admit in a gentle voice, hands moving from his chest to wrap around his neck.

“i see nothing worse than to sail this universe without you,” the music fades, your movements not once faltering as sunghoon leans in to press his lips to yours.

“we’ll change our seats for the next flight. i can’t have you sit beside another man and spill water on him.” he teases, his lips brushing against yours in a playful dance.

“oh, definitely. there’s nobody else i’d rather spill water on anyway.” you respond in taunt, your laughter meshing into one as you share a sweet kiss, comfortable in each other’s arms.

and with that, your embarrassment was left behind– your clumsiness leading your boyfriend straight to your heart.

taglist : @greentulip @nshmuras @wonsdoll @pnghoon @pshbites 📎

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lee-laurent · 1 day

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My Biggest Hater - Jamie Drysdale

Summary: Jamie meets his biggest hater

content: fluff, angst, disapproving parents, kissing, mentions of sex, innuendos, mentions of break ups, engagements

wc: 9.6k

notes: enjoy!! i have serious writer's block atm, so this is the best i've got

Georgina Elwood was so in love with Jamie Drysdale that it hurt. The moment she set eyes on him through the glass of a Flyers game, she was hooked. And it was clear to anyone looking at that them that he felt exactly the same way.

But that wasn't how Georgina had ever planned her life going. She wasn't supposed to fall for an athlete, a hockey player. Her parents would never approve of that. Sports were seen as entertainment in her family and a rare entertainment at that. Sports weren't a serious career, a stable career. Yet, one night at the Well Fargos Centre changed everything for her.

Georgina hadn't even planned to go to the game. It had been her best friend Olivia's idea, a spontaneous decision after a long week of studying for upcoming finals at UPenn. Olivia had convinced her with a mischevious grin and two tickets at the glass (Olivia had her parents' credit card).

"Come on, Georgie. Just one night of fun. You need a break from all the pressure. No one has to know," Olivia teased, slipping her arm through Georgie's as they walked toward the arena. The lights of Philadelphia flickered above them, the cool autumn air picking up leaves and spinning them all around. Georgie rolled her eyes, but secretly agreed with her best friend. Her parents would be horrified to know she was spending the evening watching a sport instead of spending it inside studying more than necessary.

She expected nothing more than a forgettable night--maybe a few laughs, some shit food, and minor ear damage. But as soon as they took their seats, Georgie's eyes were drawn to the player sporting 'Drysdale 9' on the back of his jersey.

She didn't really care about his name, just how skilled he was when it came to skating. He held her attention in a way she hadn't expected anyone at the game to. Every time the puck came near their seats, she found herself leaning forward to follow his every move.

"He's cute, huh?" Olivia nudged her, catching onto her staring.

"What? No," Georgie blushed, pretending to focus on the game. But she wasn't really watching the game. She was watching him. It was just him, gliding along the ice like it's what he was made to do.

And then, near the end of the second period, something unexpected happened. Jamie was checking the bench when, by pure chance, his eyes swept over the crowd behind it and landed directly on Georgina. It was just a brief moment, but their eyes locked.

Her breath caught in her throat.

He smiled. Not a flashy, "I'm-a-professional-athlete" kind of smile, but something subtle, almost shy, as if he was surprised that she had been looking at him.

"Georgie, he's totally looking at you!" Olivia squealed beside her, shaking her shoulders. Georgie tried to play it off, but the blush creeping up her face gave her away.

It felt ridiculous, but locking eyes with him felt right. Like they say in every romance novel ever--sparks.

It was after the game that things really changed. She was sitting in a bar with Olivia, sipping whatever fruity cocktail her friend had ordered for the two of them. Olivia was chattering excitedly about the game, not noticing how zoned-out Georgina was. She couldn't shake the image of Jamie's face when their eyes met.

"You're still thinking about him, aren't you?" Olivia teased.

"It's not like that."

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say. But I saw that look. He was totally into you. I bet you could've got his number if he wasn't like... on the ice."

"I doubt he even remembers I exist. Besides, I'm not going to throw myself at some guy just because he smiled at me during a game."

"Whatever. Let me tell you about that cute guy from calc..."

The night wore on, and Georgie found herself listening to best friend yap and yap about the frat boy in their calc course. That was until Olivia nearly spilled her drink in excitement, pointing towards the door.

"Georgie! Look! Fucking look!" she hissed, grabbing her arm.

Jamie had just walked in, still wearing his post-game jacket and laughing with a couple of his teammates. He looked even better without the glass between them--tall, with tousled hair and freckles.

"We have to talk to him. Come on!"

"Olivia, no!" The last thing she wanted was to embarass herself in front of the guy she'd been caught staring at. "I am not doing this."

"You don't have to. I'll do it. Just act cool."

Before Georgina could protest, Olivia was already standing, waving Jamie and his teammates over with confidence. Jamie's eyes found hers again, a glimmer of recognition lighting up his face. He nudged his friend and in a few large strides they were standing next to the two girls.

"Hey," Jamie greeted. "You were at the game, right?"

"Yep! My best friend couldn't stop watching you," Olivia teased, shooting a look at Georgie. "She's a huge friend now, right, Georgie?"

She cleared her throat, forcing a smile. "It was... a good game."

"Glad you enjoyed it. Do you, uh, do you come to a lot of games?" Jamie asked, leaning in.

"This was actually my first one," she admitted. "I, um, I'm not super into sports."

"Really?" Jamie seemed genuinely surprised. "And yet you somehow ended up right at the glass?"

"That's all Olivia. She dragged me here tonight."

"Well, I'm glad she did," his voice made her stomach fill with butterflies. Before she could respond, he offered to buy her a drink. She agreed and every time she looked up that night, Jamie's eyes were already on her.

Georgie awoke to the feeling of Jamie pressing kisses to her collar bone and neck. She sleepily reached up, blindly running a hand through his hair.

"Mmm, good morning."

"Morning, Gee," Jamie's voice was low and gravelly with sleep as he nestled closer, his arm draping over her waist. "How'd you sleep?"

"Better now," she whispered, tilting her head to give him more space to press kisses.

Moments like that, waking up beside him, felt like they were living in their own little world. A world where her parents' opinions didn't matter, where their judgement couldn't reach her. But deep down she knew she couldn't hide Jamie forever.

"You look like you're in deep thought," his lips brushing against her ear, his hand tracing patterns on her hip. He could read her like a book.

"Just thinking."

She hestitated. She hadn't told him yet about her plan to bring him to her parents' summer house. She wasn't even sure if it was the right move. Her parents had never met anyone she'd dated, and she had no idea how they'd react to Jamie. But she hated keeping their love a secret.

"Thinking about my parents."

Jamie's hand stopped it's slow carress. He knew how complicated things were when it came to her family. She had shared bit and pieces of growing up in Greenwich--how she went to boarding school, how her brother was a glorified frat boy, how her parents had unrealistic expectations for her entire life.

"You're still worried about them?"

"It's just... they're not like you. They won't understand us, not the way we do. And I'm not sure how to explain that to them without it turning into a disaster."

Jamie's jaw ticked. He had a vague understanding of her parents judginess, hence why he had yet to meet them in the 7 months that they'd been together. But he also didn't want the love of his life ripped from his arms because he wasn't what her father had pictured for his little princess.

"I love you Georgie," he leaned in to capture her lips in a loving kiss.

"I love you too, Jimmy," she mumbled against his mouth.

"Now, we've still got an hour until Cam comes home. So... are we taking advantage of this empty apartment or what?"

Georgie sat on the couch, nervously twirling a loose thread on the Flyers shirt she'd stolen from Jamie. Jamie was in the kitchen making her her daily coffee, his back to her, completely unaware of the conversation she was about to start.

She'd been thinking about it for weeks--how to bring it up, how to convince him it was the right time. But every scenario that played out in her head made her stomach twist uncomfortably.

"Hey, Jamie?"

"Yeah?" He turned, two mugs in his hands, walking over to sit with her.

"I was thinking... maybe it's time for you to meet my parents."

The words hung in the air between them. Jamie placed the two mugs down on the coffee table, his eyes darkening with uncertainty.

"Georgie, we've talked about this," he said slowly, sitting back against the couch. "You know how your parents feel about... athletes. Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"I know it's complicated, Jamie, but I don't want to keep hiding you from them. It's been seven months. They're going to find out eventually and it'll probably be worse if we wait too long."

"But why now? What's the rush? It's not like they're begging to meet me. Hell, they don't even know I exist."

"That's the point, Jamie! I don't want to keep you a secret! I love you, and I want them to see what I see."

He stood up abruptly. "And what if they don't, Georgina? What if they don't see it? Hmm? You've told me enough about them for me to know that they've made up their minds about who's 'worthy' of their daughter. I'm just a dumb hockey player to them. Nothing more."

"Don't say that," she pleaded, standing up and reaching out to him. "You're so much more than that to me. I'm not asking for their approval--I'm asking for a chance."

"A chance for what? To be judged by people who look down on me because I play a sport for a living? You know how that'll go. And I don't want to go through that."

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, her voice breaking. Jamie never raised his voice at her like that. "Jamie, please. I can't keep living in two separate worlds like this. I love you, and I want them to know you. I'm trying to do the right thing."

He sighed, his frustration being replaced by exhaustion. "I get that you're trying, Georgie. But what happens when it goes to shit? What happens when they decide they don't approve? Are you ready for that? Because I'm not sure I am."

She had never considered the possibility of losing Jamie because her parents didn't approve.

"So, what are you saying?" she whispered.

"I'm saying that I don't want to be the reason your family turns against you. I can't watch that happen."

"So, what, you'd rather just keep things easy? Stay in our little bubble and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist?" Her voice rose, sharp with hurt... betrayal.

"That's not what I'm saying, Georgie, and you know it."

"Then what are you saying? Because right now, it sounds like you're just looking for an excuse to avoid them forever!"

"Maybe I am! Maybe I don't want to go somewhere where I know I'm not welcome. Did you ever think about that?"

The room went silent, then tension between them suffocating. Georgie felt her heart pounding in her chest, her head spinning. She turned away from him, running a hand through her hair. "I'm going home."

The clicked shut behind her, leaving Jamie standing in the living room. He sank into the couch, burying his face in his hands. He sat like that for a few minutes until his phone buzzed with a message from Cam.

Everything good? Heard some of it from my room. Wanna talk?

Not really. I don't know what to do, man. I think she's really pissed

Georgie stormed into her apartment, throwing her keys on the counter. She let out a long, frustrated groan, running her hands through her hair.

Olivia looked up from the couch, a pint of ice cream in her lap. "Uh-oh. What happened?"

"He's being fucking impossible, Liv!" She made her way to the kitchen, pulling a bottle of white wine from the fridge and pouring herself an above average sized glass.

"Impossible how?" Liv asked, shoving the spoon in her mouth.

"He doesn't want to meet my parents. Like, at all. He think they'll judge him--well, actually, he knows they will. But that's not the point!" she exclaimed, hoisting herself up to sit on the kitchen island. "I get it, okay? My parents are... difficult people. But I love him, I want them to see how much love I have for him."

"Mmhmm. So, he's refusing to go? Flat-out?"

"Yeah! And he's making it sound like some horrible fucking trap I'm setting him up for. I'm not asking him to marry me for fuck's sake. I just want them to meet him. It's been seven months!"

"Okay, okay, slow down, Georgie. Come sit over here."

Georgie placed her wine on the coffee table, sitting down on the couch with a huff. Olivia handed her the ice cream without a word, and Georgie accepted it, digging in angrily.

"I just don't understand him! He just assumes the worst is going to happen. He thinks they're gonna like pull me out of school so he'll never see me again. I mean, sure, they're judgey as hell, but who's to say they won't come around when they see how happy I am?"

"I mean, Georgina, your parents aren't exactly known for being the most... open-minded people. You've told me plently horror stories about your dad giving guys that were just your friends the third degree for way less than being a professional athlete."

"I know, I know. But I thought they'd see how happy I am with him and... am I being delusional?"

"Not like totally. But def a bit. You have to like see where Jamie's coming from. He's just trying to protect himself--and probably you--from a big mess. Maybe he's scared of putting you in a position where you have to choose."

"He actually said something like that. He doesn't want to be the reason my family turns against me. But that's not fair. He's not the problem. My parents are! I can't live like this though, Liv. Pretending they don't exist, or pretending the love of my life doesn't exist? It's exhausting."

Olivia nodded slowly, taking the spoon from Georgie's hand and grabbing herself a bite. "Okay, let's break this down. You're in love with him, right?"

Georgie shot her a look. "Obviously."

"And you want him to be a part of your life, like, all of it?"

"Yes!"

"Then maybe, the like real issue is timing. Maybe Jamie needs more time to wrap his head around dealing with Joan and Michael. And maybe you need to figure out how to handle them, with or without his help. You guys need to be on the same page about what happens next, Gee."

Olivia always had a way of making things sound much more logical. "I just hate that I've made him feel like he isn't enough. I wasn't trying to, I guess it just came out wrong. He got so mad, Liv. Like more than he does on the ice. He even said he might be avoiding meeting them altogether."

"Yikes. Yeah, that's a tough one. But look, if you're both like serious about each other, you'll figure this out. Let him cool off and then talk about it again. And maybe give him some reassurance that whatever happens isn't a dealbreaker for you."

"You're right, Liv. God, you're like always right. I shouldn't have pusehd him. But like what if the longer I wait, the bigger the gap between him and my parents becomes?"

"You two are going to figure this out. Just give him some space. He'll def reach out when he's ready. That's how your Jimmy is, right?"

"I love you, Livvy."

"I love you more, Gee."

Olivia grabbed her bag from her bedroom, slipping her phone into the front pocket of her jeans. Georgie watched from the couch, still holding her now-empty wine glass.

"You're leaving?" Liv was never one to cut girl talk short, especially after a rant like that one.

Olivia grinned, throwing her bag over her shoulder. "I'm giving you and Jimmy some space. You guys need to talk without me lurking around like a psycho killer. Plus..." she wiggled her eyebrows. "Let's be honest, you probably need the apartment for some make-up sex."

"Liv!"

"Hey, I'm just calling it like I see it. And you two fuck like rabbits. Have been since the first night you met."

Georgie blushed, covering her face with a throw pillow.

"But seriously, talk to him. I'm crashing at Claire's for the night, so you two better be cuddling when I return, got it?"

"Thanks, Livvy. Love you."

"Love you more!" she shouted over her shoulder as she left. "Good luck with Jimbo!"

The apartment fell silent and she sat there for a few minutes, her thumb hovering over Jamie's contact. But before she could click call, the door unlocked, and in walked Jamie. He looked so tired--his hair disheveled, his shoulders tense, but his eyes softened when he saw her on the couch.

"Spare key. Sorry for not knocking, wasn't sure you'd answer if I did," he admitted.

"Hi."

"I'm sorry, Gee. I shouldn't have raised my voice. I just--everything about this situation freaks me the fuck out. I didn't mean to hurt you or push you away."

She shook her head, walking over to him. "No, Jamie. I'm the one who should be sorry. I should never have pushed you like that. I was just too focused on my fear of losing you, and I wasn't thinking about how hard this must be for you. I know what my parents are like, and it's not fair for me to just expect you to be okay with all of it."

Jamie sighed, taking her hands in his. "I get why you want me to meet them, and I get that this is very important to you. But I wasn't ready... I wasn't sure if I could deal with whatever they throw at me. But now..." He paused. "I'm ready, Georgina. I want to do this. For you. Because I love you."

Georgie blinked, stunned. "You... you're ready?"

"Yeah, I thought about it a lot after you left. I don't want to keep pretending like your family doesn't exist. I'm not saying it's gonna be easy, but we'll figure it out. Together."

"Oh my God, Jamie!" she squealed, throwing her arms around his neck. "I can't believe this! Are you serious? You're really ready?"

Jamie chuckled, hugging her tightly. "Yes, babe. I am."

She pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, her hands coming up to cup his face as she kissed him, pouring every ounce of her love into it. He kissed her back, his hands holding her waist like he never wanted to let go.

When they finally pulled away, Georgie rested her forehead against his, her voice soft. "Thank you. I love you so, so much, Jamie."

"I love you too, Georgie," he murmured, his lips brushing hers one last time before he smiled. "Now, how about we head to bed? We've got some cuddling to catch up on."

"You read my mind."

They walked into her bedroom, hand in hand. The weight of the argument had lifted, and for the first time in the last few hours, Georgie felt a strange sense of peace. She stripped down so she was just in Jamie's shirt, before nestling her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. They were going to face things. Together.

Georgie was once again staring at her phone, but this time it wasn't Jamie's contact she was staring at, it was her mom's. She had rehearsed the conversation, but somehow, none the options seemed right. With a deep breath, she clicked dial and held the phone to her ear.

"Georgina, darling! What a lovely surprise," her mother's shrill voice filled her ear.

"Hi, Mom." Georgie tried to keep her tone light, but her nervousness was already making her voice crack. "How are you and Daddy?"

"Oh, we're fine. Just finalizing some details for your father's work gala next month. You know how he gets about these events. What about you, dear? How's school? You must be knee-deep in preparations for next school year."

"Yeah, school's good," Georgie winced, realizing she was in fact stalling. "Actually, I'm calling because... well, I'm coming up to the summer house next weekend, and I'm bringing someone with me."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line.

"Bringing someone?" Her mother's voice sharpened. "Who is this someone, Georgina? You've never mentioned anyone before."

"Yeah, well... I've been seeing someone for a while now. He's... my boyfriend."

Her mother laughed, "A boyfriend? Oh, my. And you're only just now telling us?"

Georgie bit her lip, regretting not easing her mother into the conversation. "Yeah, I know. I just... wanted to make sure things were serious before I introduced him to you and Daddy."

"That's exciting news! What's his name?"

"Jamie. His name's Jamie."

"Jamie...?" Her mother's voice trailed off, clearly waiting for more information.

"Jamie Drysdale," she replied, praying her mom wouldn't recognize the name immediately. She wouldn't. She didn't watch sports. But... what if she did?

"Hmm. Drysdale. That's not a last name I know. What does he do, dear? Is he a student as well?"

"He's not in school. He, uh, he works actually." She mentally kicked herself for how stupidly vague she sounded, but she wasn't about to drop the hockey bomb over the phone.

"Works? Doing what, exactly? Is he older? Surely you're not dating a... blue collar boy," she sounded disgusted at the idea.

"No, no. It's, uh, complicated. I'll explain everything when we're there. But he's great, Mom. Really. You and Daddy will love him." Georgie crossed her fingers, praying that she wasn't overselling it.

"Well, I hope so. I trust you've chosen wisely. Your father will be very interested to meet him."

"Yeah, I'm... sure he will."

"We're just surprised, Georgina. You've never kept secrets from us before. But if you're happy, then we're happy for you."

"Thanks, Mom. I really think you'll like him. I just wanted to give you a heads-up before we arrive. We'll take Jamie's car."

"Of course, dear. We'll be expecting you both. Saturday, yes?"

"Yes, Saturday."

"Well, I'll let your father know. He'll be very curious, I'm sure. You know how is about meeting everyone new. We're looking forward to it, Georgina. And this Jamie character--well, we'll just have to see, won't we?"

"Yeah, we'll see."

"Alright, darling. I must let you go, your father needs my help. Be sure to tell Jamie that we're looking forward to meeting him."

"I will. See you next weekend."

"Goodbye, dear. Love you."

"Love you too, Mom."

She hung up and let out a long breath. Well, that certainly went better than expected. But the real test would be the weekend--when her parents found out that their daughter's boyfriend was a professional hockey player.

Jamie could feel Georgie's eyes on him from the passenger seat. She seemed laser-focused on the side of his face, her mind spinning. He had one hand on the wheel, the other on her thigh. She finally took a deep breath and blinked.

"Okay. I guess we should talk about what to expect."

Jamie raised an eyebrow. "This is about your parents, huh?"

"Yeah... there are a few things you should know before we get there."

Jamie's hand squeezed her thigh, something he often did to reassure her. "Alright, hit me, baby. What am I walking into?"

"First of all, my dad's name is Michael. He's... intense. He's the CEO of an investment firm--Elwood Capital. Very old money, very... opinionated." She paused. "He values success, status, and manners. So, just like be polite, answer his questions, and don't take anything he says too personally."

"Got it. What about your mom?"

"My mom, Joan, is well... she's a classic socialite. She's all about image and reputation. She love's entertaining, so don't be surprised if she goes all out for our visit. She'll probably ask about your background, family, that kind of thing. She's not as harsh as my dad, but she definitely has 'old-fashioned' views."

"'Old-fashioned' as in..."

"As in they'll probably ask when we're getting married and having kids."

"Seriously?" Jamie blinked in surprise.

"Oh, yeah," Georgie rolled her eyes. "In their world, that's the next step after dating for seven months. They have no concept of 'taking things slow.' Just brace yourself."

"Alright. Noted. So... Michael and Joan. Old money. Probably want grandkids ASAP." He shot her a playful look. "Anything else?"

Georgie winced slightly, knowing the next part would be the hardest for Jamie. "Yeah... one more thing. My parents don't call me 'Georgie.' They think it's a boy's name. So when we're there, you'll need to call me Georgina. I know it's weird, but... it's like one of their 'rules.'"

"I can do that. Georgina it is."

"Thanks, babe," she murmured. "It's just... they have this whole thing about appearances. You'll notice they care a shit ton about manners and stuff. It's like super formal. I've spent my whole life playing the role, and I just--" She trailed off, blinking rapidly. "I don't want you to feel like you have to be someone you're not. But I also don't want to give them a reason to be... difficult. More difficult than usual."

"Hey, I get it. I'm not going to pretend this won't be awkward, but I'll handle it. I love you, and I want to be there for you, even if your parents ask me when we're having kids after dinner." He smirked, trying to lighten the mood in the car.

"You're like seriously amazing, you know that?"

"I try," he removed his hand from her thigh, lacing their fingers together.

After a moment of silence, Georgie spoke up again. "Oh, and my brother Brooks will be there too. He's... your typical frat boy."

"Frat boy?"

"Yeah. He's studying finance at Cornell, and he's... like a lot to handle. He's not as formal as my parents are, but he's always trying to prove something. I'm sure he'll grill you about your job or try to make a competition out of nothing."

"Sounds fun," Jamie said dryly.

"Just ignore him. He can be annoying, but he's harmless," she added with a sigh. "He might make a few snide comments, but you don't have to take him seriously. I definitely don't."

"Alright. So, to recap: I'm going to meet Michael the CEO, Joan the socialite, and Brooks the frat boy. I'm going to call you Georgina, use all my manners, and probably dodge some invasive questions about marriage and kids. How am I doing so far?"

"You're doing great. I just... I hope it goes okay. They don't know you're a hockey player yet. I figured we'd save that when we're actually there. One hurdle at a time, right?"

"Yeah... figured that'd come up eventually."

"We'll handle it together, okay? No matter what."

"Yep. Together," he raised their conjoined hands to his mouth and gave them a quick kiss.

Thet were feeling a bit more at ease, but the storm was waiting for them at the summer house.

The summer house was not what Jamie expected. When he thought of a 'summer house' he imagined a cabin or a cottage near the water. Instead he saw a mansion with a sprawling estate, perfectly manicured lawns and tall, pristine windows.

"Ready?" Jamie asked.

"As I'll ever be," she forced a smile. "Just remember... Georgina."

He grinned softly. "I got it. Georgina."

As they stepped out of the car, her parents were already waiting at the entrance, the imposing figure of her father standing next to her elegantly dressed mother. Brooks was lounging on a lawn chair on the porch, sipping what was definitely a whisky on the rocks, his signature smirk already plastered on his face.

"Georgina!" Her mother screeched, arms outstretched in gretting. "It's been too long, darling." She pulled Georgie into a very quick hug before shifting her attention to Jamie. "And this must be Jamie."

Jamie smiled, extending his hand. "Yes, ma'am. It's great to meet you Mrs. Elwood."

"Please, call me Joan," her mother replied smoothly, though the way she was looking at him was nothing short of calculating.

Her father stepped up next, his handshake firm, bodering on intense. "Michael Elwood. Welcome to our home, Jamie." His eyes lingered a little longer than necessary, as if he were also weighing him in his mind.

"Thank you, sir. It's a pleasure to be here," Jamie replied. His tone was just as perfect as Georgie had imagined.

As they moved inside, Georgie felt her brother's eyes on her. He hadn't said a word yet, but the smirk on his face said enough.

"What's up, Georgina," Brooks drawled lazily, making no attempt to get up from his chair. "Long time no see."

"Good to see you too, Brooks."

His eyes shifted to Jamie, his smirk growing... if that was possible. "So, this is the famous boyfriend, huh? Didn't think you'd ever bring someone home. Must be serious."

Georgie shot him a warning glance, but before she could snap back, Joan cut in.

"Brooks, don't be rude," she said, though her tone was more dismissive than it was chastising. "Georgina, darling, let's sit down for some drinks before dinner. Jamie, you must tell me about yourself. We know so little about you."

Jamie nodded, following the family into the living room. The walls were adorned with family portraits and antique furniture, each piece screaming money. Georgie sat beside Jamie on the sofa, her hand slipping into his.

Joan handed out drinks as Michael settled in a large leather armchair.

"So Jamie," Michael began, his tone measured. "Where are you from?"

"I'm from Toronto originally, but I've been in the U.S. for a while now."

"Toronto. Quite a respectable city," he leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on Jamie. "And what is it that brought you to the states?"

Jamie kept his smile, but Georgie felt his hand tighten around hers.

"Work, mostly," Jamie replied smoothly. "Lots of great opportunities here."

"And what line of work are you in?"

Before Jamie could answer, Brooks let out a loud laugh, cutting through the tension in the room like a knife. "You really think Georgina would date a guy who can't afford a place like this?" He gestured around the room. "Relax, Dad. I'm sure Jamie here is doing quite well for himself."

The comment, while rude, gave Jamie time to avoid answering directly. Georgie shot Brooks a glare, but he just smiled right back at her.

"I'm lucky to be in a good position," Jamie replied, dodging the specifics of it.

Joan smiled, "Of course, dear. You seem quite composed." She turned to Georgie. "And how did the two of you meet?"

Georgie hesitated for a split second. The last thing she wanted to say was "at a hockey game," but before she could make up a response, Jamie jumped in.

"Through mutual friends," he said easily. "It was one of those on a whim connections that really just clicked."

Later that evening, the four of them sat around the large dinging table, silverware clinking against china plates. Brook had been relatively quiet at dinner, only making a few snide comments about Georgie bringing someone home after all these years.

"So, Jamie," Joan asked, dabbing her mouth with a napkin, "what are your future plans? Are you thinking of settling down soon?"

Georgie nearly choked on her wine.

Jamie cleared his throat, caught off guard by how quickly the question had come. "We're happy where we are right now. We're taking things step by step."

"Step by step," Michael echoed, his expression unreadable. "Interesting approach."

As the conversation continued, Jamie slipped up, almost reflexively saying, "What do you think, Georgi--" before catching himself. His eyes darted to her father, who looked up quickly.

"What Jamie meant to say was, what do you think, Georgina?"

Her father stared at him a long, agonizing few seconds before nodding. "Right. Georgina."

The room grew uncomfortably silent before Joan stepped in, "Well, it's been a lovely evening, but I think it's time for a nightcap in the sitting room, don't you think?"

Georgie stepped into the extravagant bedroom she'd made hers, flicking on the soft, golden lights. The space was luxurious as ever--thick drapes, an oversized canopy bed, and rich mahogany furniture. She always felt like an outsider in this house, like she playing pretend.

Jamie let out a low whistle, eyeing up the room's decor. "This is... next level, Georgina."

"You don't have to use that name when it's just us," she shuddered.

"I know. But I'm practicing for tomorrow."

"I think we survived today, don't you?" she asked, leaning against the bedpost.

Jamie walked over and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest. "I'd say we did pretty well. Your parents don't seem to hate me, and your dad didn't grill me too hard. I call that a win."

"Yeah, well, it's only day one. Brooks hasn't really gotten started yet, and tomorrow's going to be full of questions."

"We'll handle it. You were great tonight."

"Thanks," she murmured, pulling away from his arms and walking toward the bathroom. "I'm gonna shower. You should get ready for bed too."

Jamie sat on the edge of the massive bed, letting the events of the night replay in his mind. Dinner had gone better than he had expected, but it was still a tightrope act, not saying he wasn't a hockey player but also not saying he was.

Michael seemed like the type of guy who could sniff out weakness from several miles away. And while Jamie had managed to dodge the career question today, it was certain to come up again.

He stood up and pulled off his shirt, slipping into the pajamas Georgie had packed him--way fancier than his usual boxers... or nothing. He chuckled, shaking his head as he looked through the other clothes she'd packed. It looked like he was dressing in his pre-game suit almost everyday.

A few minutes later, Georgie emerged from the bathroom, her wet hair already curling at the ends and her body wrapped in one of Jamie's Flyers shirts she'd stolen months ago. She tossed the towel over a chair and climbed into bed with him, the mattress sinking under her.

"So, how do you think it went?" Jamie asked, trailing his fingers up her arm.

"Honestly?" she turned to face him, resting her head on his chest. "Better than I expected. My parents were... well, they were less intense than usual. And Brooks hasn't been too obnoxious yet, which is a miracle."

"I noticed your dad sizing me up, but he didn't go full interrogation mode. That was a relief."

"Yeah, that's win. I think they're still trying figure you out. But they liked you, I could tell."

Jamie brushed his lips against her temple. "Good. As long as they don't hate me, I'll take it."

Georgie smiled, tilting her head to kiss him. The kiss started sweet, but quickly deepened, her hand sliding into his hair as their bodies pressed together under the plush duvet. Jamie's hands reached down to her ass, squeezing as he pulled her closer.

Just as things were heating up, the door burst open.

"Georgina!" Brooks' voice rang through the room, as loud and annoying as ever. "Oh, shit, sorry! Didn't mean to interrupt your little... thing."

Georgie shot up, pulling away from Jamie who groaned. "Brooks, what the hell? Get out! Have you never head of knocking?"

"Relax, Georgina! I just wanted to see how lover boy here is settling in. Didn't realize you two were... busy. Sorry to interrupt your... bonding time."

Jamie forced a smile, clearly trying to hide his irritation. "Everything's fine, Brooks."

"Good, good. I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. Just wanted to say, Jamie, you survived round one. But don't get too comfortable," he chuckled, turning on his heel and leaving.

Georgie fell back on the pillows with a groan. "God, he's fucking insufferable."

Jamie laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Hey, at least he didn't walk in five minutes later."

"That's one way to look at it."

Jamie smirked, pulling her back into his arms. "Now, where were we?"

Georgie and Jamie entered the dining room together, the table already meticulously set. Michael was at the head of the table, his newspaper folded neatly beside him. Joan sat to his right, sipping from an expensive looking teacup, while Brooks lounged in his chair, his breakfast barely touched.

"Good morning, Georgina, Jamie," Joan smiled, gesturing for them to sit down. "Did you sleep well?"

"We did, thank you," Georgie smiled, taking a seat next to Jamie, who was still adjusting to his new surroundings.

"I was just telling your mother," Michael began, folding his hands in front of him, "that I'd like to get to know more about you, Jamie. We didn't get to dig too deeply into your background yesterday."

Georgie internally groaned. Here we go.

Jamie just smiled, reaching for the coffee pot. "Of course, sir. What would you like to know?"

"Let's start with your family." Michael spoke with the tone he used with clients. He was acting like he was conducting a fucking business meeting. "Where do they live? What do they do?"

"My family's still in Toronto. My dad's a construction manager and my mom is a teacher."

"Hmm, working class. Must've been quite the change for you, being in the States then?"

"It was, but I've adjusted."

Brooks snorted into his coffee. "Yeah, sounds like a big shift. Not everyone's used to... this kind of life, right, Jamie?" He waved his hand around the room, clearly enjoying his subtle jab.

"Brooks," Georgie snapped.

"What? I'm just making conversation. I mean, Jamie here's gotta be doing pretty well for himself if he's hanging with us, right?"

"I'm doing alright," Jamie shrugged.

As breakfast continued, Joan took a more pleasant, if not extremely pressuring approach.

"So, Jamie," she began sweetly. "Georgina's father and I were talking last night. And we couldn't help but wonder--you said you're taking things step by step. But you've been together... what was it? 7 months? That's an awful long time to not think about marriage or children."

"Mom!"

"What? I'm just curious," Joan said with a light laugh. "I think it's a fair question. I mean, I'd love a grandbaby or two soon."

Brooks took that as his cue to jump in, "Yeah, I bet you guys have been practicing lots."

Georgie turned bright red. "Brooks, shut up!"

"Brooks, enough," Michael boomed, though he didn't seem like he fully understood the joke. "But your mother's right. You've been together a while now. What's next?"

"We're not rushing into anything, Daddy. We're happy."

"Well, as long as you're happy."

By the time that lunch rolled around, the questions had been relentless. Michael and Brooks had been shooting questions at Jamie, left, right, and centre. As they sat down for another formal meal, Michael decided it was time to be straightforward once more.

"So, Jamie, I've been wondering about your work. You mentioned you came to the States for career opportunities. What exactly do you do?"

Jamie hestitated for a moment, knowing there was no ducking out of this one. He met Georgie's eyes, and she gave him a small nod.

"I'm a professional hockey player."

The room went silent. Brooks' fork clattered onto his plate, while Joan's expression was frozen in a mask of surprise.

"A... hockey player?" Michael asked, it was clear from his tone that he didn't find that nearly as respectable as he'd hoped. "As in... professional sports?"

"Yes, sir. I play for the Philadelphia Flyers."

Joan blinked. "Well, that's certainly... unexpected."

Brooks, on the other hand, couldn't hold back his laughter. "Wait, wait--you're telling me you're a jock?" He slapped the table, howling. "And here I was thinking you were some kinda bigshot investor or something! Georgina's dating a fucking jock! That's gold!"

"Brooks, stop it," Georgina glared.

"And how long do you think this career will last, Jamie? Professional sports aren't exactly known for their longevity, are they?" Michael ignored his son's antics.

"I'm aware it's not a forever career. But I'm building a future for myself beyond playing. I have a strong support system and I'm taking steps to ensure my financial stability."

"Hmm. I suppose that's... something."

Joan smiled tightly. "Well, it's certainly... different. Not exactly what we expected, but if Georgina's happy, then I suppose that's all that matters."

Brooks leaned forward, still chuckling to himself. "Well, this weekend just got a hell of a lot more interesting."

Jamie and Georgina excused themselves to the garden to get some fresh air. But mostly to distance themselves from the judgement inside.

"That went about as well as I expected," Jamie said drly.

"I'm so sorry, Jamie. They're just... like that. I knew they wouldn't get it right away."

"It's fine. I just didn't think it would feel this... awkward."

"They'll come around," Georgie insisted, though she wasn't sure she completely believed it herself.

Jamie nodded, pulling her closer as they walked through the garden. "At least we don't have to hide it anymore."

The door to the office clicked shut behind Georgie. Why her dad needed an office at a house that was meant for relaxing was beyond her, but there she was. Michael sat behind his desk, his gaze laser focused on his daughter. She had known this was coming, but it didn't make it any easier.

"Sit down, Georgina."

She obeyed without a word, sinking into the leather chair opposite him. Her hands rested in her lap, picking at her fingernails as she waited for him to speak.

"I wanted to have this conversation with you privately. I didn't think it was appropriate to discuss in front of your mother or Brooks, but I need to make my concerns about Jamie clear."

Georgie didn't react. She's been taught not to talk back--to listen and absorb everything her parents said, even if it made her feel sick to her stomach.

"Georgina, a professional athlete... it's not the kind of career that provides stability. His schedule alone will keep him away from home most of the time. And if you decide to start a family..." he trailed off. "He won't be there."

Georgie clenched her fists tighter, willing herself to stay composed.

"And then there's the matter of the career itself," he scoffed. "Hockey players... they don't exactly need to be intellectuals. It's a sport, Georgina. It's not a career that requires real intelligence or long-term thinking. What happens when he gets injured? One bad hit, and it's all over. You'll be left with a man who has no real skills to fall back on. Is that really what you want for your future?"

"I want the best for you. I really do. You come from a family that values success, security, and stability. Jamie can't give you that, Georgina. His career could end tomorrow, and then what? You'll be left to pick up the pieces?"

Everything in her life was supposed to fit into a neat, respectable box. And she'd broken that. She knew that her father expected her to agree, to nod and promise to reconsider, to make the "right" choice. But she couldn't. And she wouldn't.

For the first time since sitting down, she met his eyes. "I love him, Daddy."

Michael leaned forward, letting out a slow breath. "Love is important, Georgina, but it's not enough. You're thinking with your heart, not your head. I'm trying to make sure you understand what you're getting yourself into."

Her hands were trembling in her lap. She didn't want to argue with him. She didn't try to defend Jamie or explain why they worked. Because she knew it wouldn't matter to him. Her father had already made up his mind.

Instead, she repeated herself. "I love him."

"You're an adult now, Georgina. I can't stop you from making your own decisions." His tone was cold, distant. "But I hope you understand the risks that you're taking."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, that's all."

Without another word, Georgie exited the office, her heart beating like a drum. Her whole body felt heavy and all she wanted to do was run to her room and scream into a pillow until she felt normal again. But first she had to find Jamie.

At the same time Georgie was talking with her dad, Jamie was talking with Brooks. But rather than an office, they were sat in the living room. Brooks had his feet kicked up on the couch like he owned the place. Jamie was trying to embrace the silence, but Brooks wasn't the type for that.

"So, Jamie," his voice dripped with condescension, "let me get this straight--you play hockey for a living?"

Jamie, who had been scrolling through Instagram, glanced up. "Yeah. I play for the Flyers."

"Right. The Flyers. And how long do you think that's going to last?" He chuckled, clearly amused with his own question. "I mean, sports careers aren't exactly... permanent, are they? A couple bad hits, a bad knee, and boom--you're done."

Jamie set his phone down. He'd expected some grilling from Brooks, but his smug attitude was starting to grate on him. "Yeah, I'm aware it's not forever. But I've been smart about it. I'm planning for a life after hockey."

"Right. Cause I'm sure you have time for that while you're chasing pucks around the ice. Tell me, Jamie, what happens when it's all over? When your fifteen minutes are up? You think you're gonna be some big shot, or are you going to be a washed-up athlete, living off whatever's left in your savings? What's the plan when my sister leaves you because you've got nothing left to give?"

"I'm not worried about that, Brooks."

"Oh, sure you aren't. What's the backup plan? When hockey's done, what're you gonna do? Coach some peewee league? Work at a sports bar? Or just ride Georgina's coattails?"

Jamie's hands balled into fists. Brooks was making it personal now, but Jamie refused to let him get under his skin. "I'm not planning to fail, Brooks. I've worked hard to get where I am, and I'm doing everything I can to make sure I'm set for the future. I don't need a backup plan because I'm building my future now."

"You know, I don't get it. What does my sister see in you? Sure, you've got the whole 'athlete' thing going for you, but... what else? What happens when the fame fades and the money's not rolling in? You think you're going to be able to keep up with Georgina's lifestyle."

"Georgie and I don't live your lifestyle. We have our own."

"Right. Your own. You do realize the kind of family you're dealing with, right? My parents aren't just rich--they're legacy. This whole life, this world, is built on families like ours. And you? You're just some guy who got lucky with a stick and puck. Got even luckier when a rich girl fell for your whole 'pretty boy' act. You think you're gonna hold up under that kind of pressure?"

"I'm not here for approval, Brooks. I love Georgie and she loves me. That's all that matters."

"Good luck with that, Jamie," he laughed. "Because love doesn't pay the bills."

Georgie sat next to the bath, running her hand under the water to find the perfect temperature to wash away the day. The door clicked and in walked Jamie, his expression tight.

"Hey," she whispered, turning to look up at him. "I was thinking... maybe we could take a bath? Just... relax for a bit."

"A bath?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. "This place is fancy, might as well use it. Plus... we could both use a break from the outside world, don't you think?"

Jamie smiled softly, "Alright, a bath it is."

They undressed in a comfortable silence, the day's stress already fading away with the steam rising from the tub. Jamie slid in first, leaning back against the curved edge of the tub. Once he was settled, Georgie climed in and rested her back against his chest. Jamie closed his eyes, leaning his head against the back of the tub, while Georgie played with his hand, the tension draining from his body.

"Brooks have you a hard time, didn't he?"

"Yeah, you could say that. He pretty much tore into me, picking every piece of me apart." He rested his other hand on his knee, not opening his eyes as he spoke. "He was throwing every insult he could think of. Basically said I'm a jock with no future and that I'm only with you because of your family's money."

"I'm sorry, Jamie. Brooks doesn't know when to stop. He's... he's such an asshole."

Jamie shook his head, "It's not your fault. I knew it wouldn't be easy with him, or dad for that matter."

"Speaking of my dad... we had a conversation too."

"What did he say?"

"He told me that he's worried. That you're not... stable. That your career could end at any moment, and he doesn't think it's a smart choice for me to be with you."

Jamie's jaw tightened. "So he thinks I'm a temporary thing?"

"It's more than that," she replied, tracing patterns on the surface of the water. "He doesn't think being a hockey player requires intelligence. He kept saying you don't have 'real skills' and asked what would happen if you get injured. He was so... dismissive."

"I'm not going to say I'm surprised. Your dad made it pretty fucking clear he doesn't think much of me. He didn't have to say it outright."

"I hated it. I sat there and let him pick you apart like you're some kind of... I don't know, risk? But all I could tell him was that I love you. That was all I could say."

"That's enough, Gee. You don't need to justify anything to them. I know it's hard, but we're on the same page, and we'll get through it."

"I just wish they could see you the way I do."

"Maybe they will," he brought his hand up to rub her shoulders. "Maybe they won't. But I'm not going anywhere, no matter what they think."

"I'm so lucky to have you," she leaned into his touch.

"I think I'm the lucky one."

Gee turned around, sloshing water onto the floor in the process, but she didn't care. She cupped his cheeks and kissed him. For a while they just sat there, enjoying each other's company, stealing the occasional kiss. As long as they had each other, they could survive anything.

Tension radiated from Jamie, his posture rigid. He'd barely touched the soup that had been placed in front of him. Georgie had only looked at her food, her stomach much to upset to eat. She was hyper-aware of the silence that fell whenever Jamie answered someone's question or when Brooks threw in an unnecessary comment.

"You know," Brooks said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I never realized my sister had such low standards. I mean, a hockey player? I guess you've got one hell of a personality, because you sure don't have much else going for you."

Jamie's jaw clenched for the thousandth time that day, his eyes darting to Georgie, waiting for her to speak. But she couldn't. She couldn't form any words. Her parents exchanged uncomfortable looks, but neither made a move to stop him. It was if they were waiting to see how it played out, complicit in his cruel jokes.

Brooks wasn't done. "I mean, come on, Georgina. You could do better. Or are you so easy you'll settle for someone this fucking pathetic?"

Something inside Georgie snapped.

Her hands slammed on the table, silverware rattling. "That's enough, Brooks!" Her voice was filled with a fury she'd never let show in front of her family. Her whole body trembled as the words spilled out before she could stop herself.

"How dare you talk about Jamie like that? You have no idea who is, what he's accomplished. He's a thousand times the person you'll ever be, and I'm tired of pretending like I'm okay with your constant insults and fucking disrespect!"

She turned to her parents.

"And you two! You sit there and let him say these horrible things! You act like it's fine because it's Brooks, and that's what he does. But it's not fine! None of this is fine!"

Jamie reached for her hand under the table, but she pulled away, standing up. "Jamie is the love of my life! Do you hear me? I'm going to marry him someday! And I don't care what any of you have to say about it!"

Her mother gasped, raising a hand to her heart. Her father's face grew stony, clearly disapproving of her outburst. But Georgie didn't care what they thought. She was far beyond the the point of caring.

"You don't get to judge him! You don't get to make me feel ashamed for loving him, and you don't decide who I'm 'supposed' to be with. Jamie and I are building a life together! If you can't deal with that, you won't be seeing me ever again. I'm done. With the insults, with the judgement. Fucking all of it!"

"Let's go," she whispered to Jamie, taking his hand in hers as they exited the dining room.

"Georgina--"

"No," she interrupted her father, "I said what I needed to say. If you can't accept Jamie, then you can't have me in your lives."

With that, she and Jamie left the room, the slam of the door sending shockwaves through the whole room.

Georgie and Jamie left the grand house behind them, still walking hand in hand. Neither of them had spoken since they packed their things and walked out--there was too much to process, too much had just happened at once. They didn't speak until they reached the car when Jamie broke the silence.

"You okay?" he asked, turning to face her.

Georgie sighed, leaning against the car. "I don't know," she admitted. "I mean yes... I'm okay. But I just... can't believe I actually just did that. I've never stood up to them like that before."

"You were amazing in there, Georgie. You didn't just stand up to them... you like stood up for us. For me."

Georgie leaned her head on his chest. "I couldn't listen to it anymore. My dad, Brooks... all the judgement. I just snapped. But I meant every word of it, Jamie. I meant it when I said I'm going to marry you one day."

Jamie's eyes widened. He knew how serious they were about each other, but hearing her say it, especially under such emotional circumstances, made him feel a way he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before.

"You know... we don't have to wait."

"What do you mean?" she pulled away from his chest, blinking rapidly.

"I mean, we don't have to wait for 'someday.' I don't have a ring right now, but this isn't some grand proposal... but I love you, Georgie. And after the weekend we've been through... I don't want to wait. Let's do it. Let's get married."

Georgie couldn't believe her ears. It wasn't the proposal she'd dreamed of growing up--not a fancy dinner, not on exotic vacation, and with no ring. It was so unbelievably Jamie. And none of that mattered. What mattered was him. What mattered was them, together.

"Are you serious?" she whispered.

"Completly serious. I know it's not traditional in any sense of the word, but we can figure out the details later. You're it for me, Georgie. You're the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. I love you. Let's start the rest of our lives. No more waiting."

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, and she laughed her way through them. "Oh my God, Jamie. Yes. Yes, I'll marry you."

Jamie pulled her into a kiss, holding her close. It wasn't the picture perfect proposal. It wasn't grand or over-the-top. But it was real. It was them.

When they finally pulled apart, Georgie wiped at her eyes. "I can't believe we're actually doing this."

"We are. Together, no matte what. Your family might come around one day, maybe they won't. But it doesn't matter, Georgie. I promise you that."

"I know. And I don't care what happens with them right now. All I know is that I need to be with you."

"Then it's settled. We're getting married. Me and you."

"You and me."

They stood there for a few more minutes, just wrapped in each other's arms. There were still so many things they had to figure out--but for now, none of that mattered. All that mattered is that they had each other. And they were ready to take on the world.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #jamie drysdale imagine #jamie drysdale

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