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tetsumie · 6 months ago

Note

heyy when you have the time to do so, can i request college!suna x reader angst to fluff where reader tries to spend time with suna but they get into an argument where he decides to spend time with his athlete friend group but then feels guilty and make up with reader through heart to heart conversation? 🫶🏻sorry if this is so long i have no idea how to make the prompt shorter but honestly i love all the fics you post so idc if you change it up a bit just thought i’d give an idea

𝐅𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇

pairing: suna rintaro x gen!neutral reader

genre: hurt/comfort

content: you confront him about the growing distance in your relationship, something he's been dismissing for a while, until he finally grasps the seriousness of the situation

cw: suna is a bit harsh; arguments but they make up <3

a/n: hihi anon! ty for requesting and i hope it's to your liking :D i'm still accepting requests for my 1k event so feel free to send more into my inbox!

"it's like i never see you anymore!"

suna and you have been in this back and forth argument for what felt like an eternity and it's draining the life out of you.

suna has been preoccupied with the upcoming inter-collegiate volleyball tournament. as a starter on the prestigious division 1 ejp raijin volleyball team, the arduous practices and pressure have been taking a heavier toll than expected on him.

as a result of this, suna has been incredibly distant in your relationship. he was always gone before you woke up in the morning and didn't return until after you fell asleep. every time you tried to plan a date or suggest something to do together, he somehow always cancels. it's always, "sorry i have to run some extra drills. maybe another day?"

it's exhausting putting this much effort into your relationship when it all seems in vain.

you've tried bringing this up to suna before, mentioning how you would like to spend more time together. but suna, being suna, always brushed it off. but there's only so much dismissal you can take.

you really miss your boyfriend.

but you're not sure he misses you the way you miss him.

"y/n you can't expect me to drop everything for you! like fuck, i have a life outside of you," he exclaims, snapping you back to the current argument at hand.

"i didn't say that, rin."

"that's what you're trying to say," he replies, crossing his arms over his chest.

you shake you head, lowering your voice. "i know volleyball always has and always will be a top priority for you but i just wish... well, it would be nice if you could put a bit of effort into our relationship."

"what if i don't even want to anymore..." he mumbles under his breath as he walks to the closet, grabbing a coat.

the rage in your heart and mind now simmer down to a feeling of dread and heartbreak. what?

as he turns around, he sends an icy glare at you. you've never seen this side of him and you refuse to let him see you crumble apart in front of him. you refuse to break down right now.

"you don't want to what, suna?" you look at him, tone icy cold. "go on. tell me."

the heated environment is making his mind all cloudy and he wants to end this conversation now.

"you know what i mean, y/n. i'm going out. don't call me."

the door opens and slams shut.

the moment the door closes, you're completely still. you're running on autopilot. you find yourself making a cup of tea and sitting at the dining table, looking at the empty, lifeless apartment sprawled in front of you.

subconsciously, the tears started to roll. i guess that's it then. i think i better start packing my things. i should be gone by the time he comes back home.

meanwhile, suna makes his way downtown to the bar where some of his volleyball friends had invited him out for a couple drinks. he opens the door to the bar and he can hear the familiar rowdiness of his friends.

"well, well, well, if it ain't the infamous sunarin from ejp," a familiar blonde comes running to him. "been too long since i've seen ya stupid ass."

"yeah yeah whatever asshole," suna slaps the back of atsumu and nods over at osamu who's sitting on the table. "it's good to see you both."

as suna and atsumu head to the table in the back with the rest of his friends, his mind can't help but linger back to the argument that he had with you. but he decides to shake his mind off it.

he's here to have fun with his friends right now. not be worried about you.

"you didn't bring y/n tonight?" komori, suna's teammate, asks. "i haven't seen them in a hot minute. what've they been up to?"

what have you been up to? he doesn’t know. when was the last time we both had an actual conversation? he doesn’t know. he doesn’t even know what's been going on in your life lately. fuck this is what y/n meant.

he forces a smile, masking the bitter thoughts playing in his mind. "they're good. just doing their classes and stuff."

"ah right, well bring them by sometime! it's been too long since i've seen them. they never fail to light up the room with their presence."

"yeah you're right."

he nods, taking small sips from the beer in front of him.

as the conversation and chaos ensue among his friends, his mind keeps drifting back to the memories of the argument he walked out on. his mind has cooled off and a sense of guilt starts to take over his body.

here he is having fun with his friends while you're at home all alone, waiting for him. you just wanted to spend time with him and here he was, finding comfort in other people other than you.

he tries to remember the last time you both had gone out together but he's drawing a complete blank. he can't even remember the last time he's kissed you or held you in his hands.

no wonder you've been feeling so lonely.

and in response, he just kept brushing you off until you blew up today. and to make matters worse, he walked out of the argument giving you no sense of reassurance or closure on the matter.

at the realization, suna shoots up out of his seat with flushed cheeks. the group turns to him.

"i gotta head out for the night. i gotta see my baby."

"get a fuckin' room sunarin," osamu shouts. the rest of the groups howls in agreement. "see ya."

he waves goodbye and starts trudging his way back to the shared apartment. he expects to find you asleep so he can crawl into bed with you and cuddle, never intending on letting you go.

so you can imagine the surprise when he opens the door and sees the bedroom light on and hears rustling noises. "baby?" he calls out. "y/n?"

he takes off his shoes and coat and walks to the bedroom. he starts to internally panic at the sight in front of him.

you have a couple of suitcases out filled with your clothes and belongings. at a glance, he can see that your side of the closet is almost empty. you've even taken down a couple of the decor pieces in the room that you bought but he was never particularly interested in. with your headphones in, you’re focused on packing, but what breaks him the most is seeing you wipe your eyes as you do so. why are you even packing? where are you going?

and then it hits him.

not only did he make it seem like he didn’t want to make this relationship work, but his actions have been driving you away. fuck, this was bad. he didn't mean any of it. he has to fix it or he's gonna lose the best thing in his life for good.

he goes over to you and taps your shorted and you yelp, startled by the 6'2" man, hovering above you.

"what the hell are you doing?" suna asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.

you wipe your eyes. "i'm leaving."

"don't be ridiculous," he scoffs.

"ridiculous?" you laugh at the absurdity of his comment. "what's ridiculous is how you walk out of an argument not even wanting to work things out. what's ridiculous is how you just continue to put me aside like i’m some side piece."

he knows you’re hurting. and it’s all his fault.

he doesn’t know how to properly express everything he needs to say to you.

so in the heat of it all, he does what he thinks is the next best thing and kisses you.

you'd forgotten this feeling. his soft lips on yours and how they fit together just right. it's the softest kiss he's ever given to you and your heart swells at the gesture.

you pull away and you plop yourself on the floor to process what just happened.

right there and then, he looks at you. he really looks at you. he notices the way you have some baby hairs popping out and your cheeks feel warm from all that crying. he notices the way your eyes look slightly puffed out and the remnants of tears on your cheeks.

i'm the cause of this. this is all my fault.

"i’m sorry," he begins.

you sigh and look away mumbling to yourself. "you’ve said that before. it doesn’t change anything."

"and you’re right."

you look up at him, surprised by his admission. "w-what?"

"you’re absolutely right, y/n."

he crouches down to your level, resting his hand on your knee so he can look you in the eye.

"i shouldn't have made it seem i wasn't willing to put in the effort into making us work," he says, gesturing between you and him. "my actions and what i said to you a couple hours ago obviously made it seem that way and i'm an absolute dumbass for not picking up on it."

you’re silent. he searches your face, looking for any speck of emotion, but he still can’t read you. in the amount of time he's known you, you’ve always been the exception.

"i've been swamped with so much work lately and i know i need to do better. i spread myself so thin that i forgot to prioritize the things and the people that matter the most to me."

you're silent, unsure of what to say to him.

"i thought i was doing the best i could do until i realized i could be doing so much more for us and for you. i'm so sorry for not being here."

"i know rin," you whisper. finally, for the first time you look up from your lap to look at him. "it just felt like you didn't care about us anymore. you're the hardest worker i know but i just wish you were here sometimes."

"and i wouldn't be able to be that hard worker without your love and support, you know," his hand cups your cheek as he runs his thumb across the tear streaks on your face.

"i realize how absent i’ve been in our relationship lately and i can’t imagine how lonely you’ve been feeling. i want to make this relationship work with you. i know i suck at being sappy and shit but you really are my other half. no matter what it takes, i’ll make us work. i’ll fight for this relationship. i'll fight for us."

"oh, rin," you sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him in close for a hug. the tears begin to flow from your eyes.

he feels his eyes glaze over. he breathes in your familiar scent and feels a warmth he’s missed.

even after everything, you still love him.

he starts with a gentle kiss on your cheek, then starts peppering your face with soft kisses.

you let out a watery chuckle, making his heart skip a beat. he hasn't heard your laugh in forever and he swears to himself to never be the reason for your tears again.

"let's go to bed now baby. i've gotta cuddle away all the pain i've caused you."

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certaimromance · 4 months ago

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𝜗𝜚 A Picture of a Cat.

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: After months of emailing back and forth, you finally meet the person you've been chatting with every day. Then you realize that Spencer is not just a girl's name.

Words: 2,7k.

Warnings & Tags: forensic!reader. with spencer of the early seasons very much in love in mind. the reader has a cat and has little faith in men (literally me, sorry). SO MUCH chaos and maybe lack of communication but happy ending. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This is pretty chaotic and not particularly serious😭 It might be best not to try to make sense of it. They're just two idiots in love, really.

To say that Spencer was dying of nervousness was not enough to describe his true feelings.

From the moment he woke up this morning without any mail from you in his inbox, he began to feel that his day was going wrong and that it was becoming an endless nightmare. He had lost count of all the times he had checked his mail at work, hoping to see even a one-line message from you to calm his anxiety.

As someone who had received your good morning every day without fail for the last four months that you had been talking to each other daily, he was completely taken aback and couldn't quite put his finger on why. Perhaps he had said something to offend you, or maybe you were just not feeling the spark anymore. But astonishingly, none of your numerous emails that he had taken the time to reread on the jet indicated any cause for concern.

Everything had been so positive with you recently, and he was grateful to have someone to talk to, even if it was through a computer, every time he finished a challenging case and his mind just wanted to focus on something else. He found great comfort in reading about your day and your thoughts every morning, as if it were his newspaper. Even the pictures you always sent him of your cat sleeping in cute poses, eating, or doing anything else made him smile and gave him the idea of adopting a pet, even when he had never thought about the possibility of it before. You always helped him realize some desires he hadn't previously considered.

But suddenly he didn't have any of it. Nothing at all.

Reid's gaze fell once upon the computer on his desk, and his face was illuminated by its light as he reopened his email page for what might have been the thousandth time that day. His fingers tapped over and over on his knee in an attempt to calm his nerves as the page loaded at a slow pace. He took the opportunity to look at the time on the clock hanging on the wall in front of him. It was ten o'clock at night, and yet, once again, there was no trace of you among his messages.

His heart stopped for a second when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, and he had to close the page he had opened on his computer at full speed before he could even realize who it was.

“Hey, take it easy, kid.” Derek said gently, removing his hand from his shoulder and stepping back a step. His eyes fell on the computer screen, and he was intrigued. “What were you watching?” He asked, with a playful smile.

“N-nothing.” Spencer's voice trembled beyond his control, and he quickly rose from his chair, trying to shield the computer with his body.

You had been his best-kept secret for quite some time, and he was content with that. He enjoyed the idea of maintaining a certain level of privacy in that aspect of his life, as something just between you two. It was more special and romantic that way.

“Nothing? Is that what they call those things now?” Derek inquired, his tone teasing but not unkind. The boy blushed a little, unsure why. “I must admit I'm surprised.”

Reid had to think for a few seconds to figure out what his colleague was talking about, but even before he could understand, Morgan had started speaking again.

“Anyway, turn that off.” He said, pointing to the computer and settling his bag over his shoulder, ready to go. “Someone's waiting for you in the boardroom.”

Almost automatically, Spencer frowned and watched him, waiting for him to provide more information or at least laugh if he was making a joke. However, that didn't occur. Derek didn't laugh at him or anything of that nature.

“Go, Reid. It might be best not to keep the girl waiting.” He gave his friend a gentle pat on the shoulder and a reassuring smile before heading off on the way to the elevator.

A girl? Waiting for him? How?

Spencer took a moment to collect his thoughts, attempting to grasp the meaning behind Derek's words and the circumstances surrounding the supposed visitor. With a measured pace, he stepped away from his desk and proceeded down the hallway, heading for the boardroom with a contemplative demeanor.

As he opened the door and cautiously stepped inside, he was met with the most glorious sight of his life, the one he had waited so long for, the one that now quickened his pulse and seemed to bring him back to life after feeling dead all day.

You.

Standing at the table, looking intently at the various maps and data scattered around the round table in the center of the room. So deep in thought that you were not even aware of his presence. As pretty as in the pictures of you that he had seen.

He couldn't help but let out a little "oh my" at the sight of you. His heart was pounding so hard he thought he could hear it from across the room, or maybe his ears were just ringing from the blood rushing to his head. Reid stood still, looking at you, amazed. He could see how the light touched your hair and how you bit your lip as you concentrated on organizing the papers and a folder in your hand. It was real. It had to be real.

“Hi.” His voice suddenly startled you, making you realize that you were no longer alone and that the door was now open.

You look up from the documents you are examining and see him by chance. It takes you a moment to realize that he works there, and only by the FBI badge in his pants pocket.

“Hi.” You responded after giving him a very obvious visual scan.

Your voice.

It was the first time he'd heard you speak, and it was just as he'd imagined it would be.

“I’m-” You extended your hand in a cordial manner to introduce yourself, but he interrupted.

“I know who you are.” He spoke quickly, smiling at you. “I...I...you are...” Reid cursed himself for stuttering the sentence as his tongue suddenly felt too heavy in his mouth.

“Okay…I'm waiting for someone.” You said it politely, but your tone showed your anxiety.

Oh, you didn't know it was him.

Spencer let out a laugh to relieve the growing tension, but it came out sounding like a cough. He wanted to hit himself. Why was he acting like a child? He was an agent, for God's sake. His job was to talk to complete strangers every day and do entire profiles without getting nervous. He found it hard to understand how that was changing so much now. He took a deep breath and forced himself to speak more clearly.

“Yes, I know.” He replied, sounding a bit nervous. His voice was a little shaky, as if he was straining to get the words out.

“Do you know if this person is coming?” You were standing there with your arms crossed, trying to see if anyone else was coming after him.

At that moment, a look of confusion came over his face. It had not even crossed your mind that it might be him. And although it was to be expected and totally understandable since you had never seen a picture of him, Spencer still felt a twinge of pain and insecurity inside. Perhaps you expected him to look different, or at least not look like a kid playing federal agent.

Maybe it would have been helpful if he had sent you a picture of himself when you sent yours. That way, you might have had a better idea of what to expect. But you were very understanding of his insecurities and lack of comfort with the photos at the time. So he thought everything would be fine anyway…he was so wrong.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath before speaking up. “Actually, it's me.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to hide how nervous he was, with little success.

As soon as he said it, you looked surprised, your mouth slightly open, and then you laughed.

“That's pretty funny.” You said it with a slightly uncomfortable smile. When you realized he wasn't laughing, you added, “Good joke.”

Seeing your reaction, Spencer felt the urge to shrink back and disappear, as if that action could erase the last few seconds of your memory and also erase the feeling he suddenly had of having screwed up in an unfamiliar way. He felt his chest tighten as you asked him again if the person you were waiting for was coming. Was it so hard to believe that he was the person you were talking to? The one who earned your trust and affection?

“I spent several hours on a plane, so please let me know if your colleague is coming.” You spoke again, your tone conveying a hint of disappointment and fatigue. “If I'm a nuisance and Spencer doesn't want to see me, I'd appreciate knowing that.”

Hearing you say his first name gave him an unexpected shiver. It sounded so pleasant and intimate. He took another deep breath and forced herself to speak clearly.

“Wait, he does want to see you.” He paused for a moment, realizing he sounded a bit ridiculous. “I mean, I do. I'm Spencer.”

You're momentarily taken aback, unsure if the guy in front of you is joking. His nervous expression suggests otherwise, and you even entertain the possibility that he might be crazy.

Oh my goodness, you were all alone on a practically empty floor of the FBI offices with an insane agent.

“Just let me know if she's coming or not, please.” You said, taking a few steps back to be at a safe distance from him.

His mouth was so dry he could only manage a soft, hoarse whisper. “She? Did you think I was a girl?”

“You?” You furrowed your brow, feeling more confused and uneasy.

At last, he had a suggestion and reached into his pocket to retrieve his badge, holding it out to you in a gesture that seemed to convey innocence.

“I’m Spencer Reid.” He said, his voice betraying a hint of awkwardness as he was caught off guard by the peculiar turn of events.

You looked at the badge, confused, and slowly looked up, looking into his eyes closely for the first time. You studied his face intently, not really believing it.

“Are you Spencer? My Spencer?” You asked.

When you said “my,” he felt a flutter in his chest. His brain was trying to tell him not to get too invested in the moment, but the vulnerable part of him was moved by the way you said it, like he was all yours. There was a special air of affection there that he liked.

“Yes.” He replied, almost in a whisper. “I am.”

You had to take a moment to process the information, eyes glued to his as you tried to make sense of it. Little by little, you come to understand. This was the person you had been talking to every day for months—the person with whom you had shared your fears, stories, and dreams. Yet you hadn't even asked him for a picture or a call—anything that would have made you realize that he wasn't a woman. It seems almost unreal to you to have fallen into such a confusion.

“I sent pictures of my cat to a man?!” Was the first thing you thought, and it managed to come out of your mouth clearly, in an indignant tone. “I said you were my soulmate!”

Now you were the one who sounded insane.

He stood there for a few moments, looking at you and seeing the different emotions on your face. When he finally spoke, his voice had a hint of insecurity in it.

“Yes…but your cat is cute, and you take good pictures.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking a bit nervous. “Did you know that the evocative power of images is widely studied? They can help us verbalize and even rescue forgotten memories and stories from our collective memory and-” He silences himself. “Sorry.”

When he fell silent, your brain couldn't do the same, and thousands of hard-to-filter words began to appear. You had a strange feeling in your chest, a mixture of familiarity with the way his ramblings sounded to you, just like the emails you loved so much, and confusion about the whole situation.

“This is so strange.” You said to yourself, pacing around the room a couple of times. “I was so stupid-”

He observed you with great interest, trying to discern the thoughts and feelings that were likely swirling in your mind. He could empathize with your confusion, as he was also uncertain about the circumstances. He couldn't blame you for feeling bewildered. You had embarked on your journey with the expectation of meeting a girl named Spencer, but instead, you encountered him. You had envisioned a lovely girl, and you found him—a simple individual, a nerd who had been told on numerous occasions that nerds lacked charm.

“No. You're not.” He said, attempting to manage his desire to bridge the gap and offer solace. “It was a misunderstanding. I should have provided you with more information.”

“How would you even start a conversation by saying you were a man?” You let out a laugh to yourself. “I would have stopped talking to you instantly.”

The sentence hit him right in the heart.

The two of you had the opportunity to communicate by mail when your boss asked you to send reports on several of the autopsies with similarities you had done to the BAU. It was then that a picture of your cat was sent in the middle of the files. Spencer was the one who received it and made an attempt at a joke after your long apology. And then another, and another, until you ended up talking for four months until now.

But if you had known from the beginning that he wasn't a woman, you wouldn't have bothered to get to know him at all.

“I...I don't know what to tell you..” He admitted, sounding a little more vulnerable. “But why did you think I was a woman?”

After a moment's thought, you said. “Your name made me think of a girl I knew in college. And you...you were so nice and sweet in your emails that I found it hard to believe that a man could be like that through a screen.”

When you shared how you perceived him through his emails, it seemed that a certain vulnerability came to light. The situation had turned the tables, and now he was the one standing there trying to process the information.

“I thought I finally had a friend. You know what my job is like...and yours is just as all-consuming.” You spoke again, having to sit for a moment in one of the chairs in the place, trying to calm down. “It would've been great to have someone who understood me as a friend.”

He felt a pang in his heart at your words and was instantly reminded of the times you'd confided in him about how isolated you felt in your lab, surrounded by dead people and computers.

“You can still do that.” He replied without thinking. “I’m still the same person as before, just different packaging.”

For you, it was much more than that. First of all, you trusted him in the beginning because you thought he was a girl; that's why he understood you so much and you had that special connection.

Hell, you'd even told him how bad your period was, and he'd understood so well. He'd given you tips and facts that you didn't know that were beyond your expectations of what the average man knew.

“I mean, I'm still someone you can talk to.” He continued, his hands moving nervously in his pockets. “Unless you...unless you don't feel that way anymore.”

When you finally spoke, your voice sounded almost whispery and gentle. He couldn’t help but lift his gaze from the floor to you, feeling how his body relaxed just a bit with the soft sound of your voice.

“No, no. I still want to talk to you…if you’re my Spencer.”

“I am, all yours.” He replied with a smile.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #moontober <3 #spencer reid x you #matthew gray gubler

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morganaawriterr · 2 months ago

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˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Mornings with Jungwon;

Pairing; fem!reader x boyfriend!yang jungwong Synopsis; On a quiet winter morning, you and Jungwon share tender moments of love and playful teasing, savoring the warmth of each other’s embrace before the day unravels. Theme; Fluff on top of fluff Warnings; A tiny bit suggestive (?) Your teeth will literally fall off and rot because it's so cute (?) My Masterlist;

A/N; This drabble is so cute and adorable it's my favourite!!!! I hope you like it as much as I do! Reblogs and likes are always welcome, thank you! Also, my inbox is always open, let's chat!!

You woke up to the sound of thick raindrops softly hitting your large bedroom window. The murky winter light barely illuminated the room, leaving it wrapped in a hazy glow. You yawned and snuggled deeper under the blankets, savoring their comforting warmth. After rubbing your sleepy eyes, you slowly opened them.

As your vision adjusted, you noticed your precious boyfriend sleeping beside you. Jungwon lay shirtless under the heavy covers, his rosy lips forming a cute pout, his blonde eyebrows furrowed slightly, and his nose adorably scrunched. His blonde messy hair framed his face, making him look like a charming, sleepy mess.

“Why are you staring at me?” Jungwon’s deep morning voice broke the silence, his eyes still closed. His arm shifted under the covers, seeking your waist to pull you closer.

“How did you know I was staring?” you asked shyly, a smile tugging at your lips as his warm fingers touched your skin, sending a trail of goosebumps along your body.

“I can feel your eyes on me, princesss,” Jungwon murmured sweetly, his lips curling into a faint grin. He opened his eyes, their caramel warmth glowing faintly in the dim light as he gazed at you.

It was dangerous how much you loved him. Jungwon didn’t need to do much to make your heart flutter—just his charming smile or the scent of his skin was enough to leave you captivated. His thoughtful nature and the way he always cared for you made him irresistible.

Without another word, Jungwon wrapped himself impossibly closer to you, craving the warmth of your body against his. Your bare legs tangled with his clothed ones, and he couldn’t help but notice how cold you were.

“How can you be this cold under so many covers?” he asked, his gaze fixed on yours as his fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face.

“I don’t know,” you replied with a laugh. “I’m always freezing, and you’re always warm. What’s your secret?”

“My secret?” He pretended to think for a moment before smirking. “Ohhh—it’s having a hot girlfriend like you.”

You playfully punched his arm, your cheeks flushing red in embarrassment. Deciding to stretch out, you lay back fully on the mattress. Jungwon took the opportunity to rest his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat.

“You feel so good… smell so good…” he mumbled, almost like a moan. His voice was soft and vulnerable, as if he were completely lost in you.

Your hands instinctively moved to his messy blonde hair, gently caressing it as he breathed steadily against you. For a moment, the room fell silent—a comforting, safe pause. Then, you felt his fingers slide under your shirt, brushing against the warm skin of your stomach.

“What are you doing, Wonie?” you asked with a smirk, opening your eyes. But all you could see was his hair as his fingertips trailed higher.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the first girl I’ve ever slept with?” Jungwon confessed softly, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “I mean, like… actually sleeping, spending the night.” He clarified quickly when you stayed silent.

“Let me confess something too—you’re my first, as well,” you replied with a smile. Jungwon lifted his head to look at you, his expression lighting up with pure joy.

Unable to contain your affection, you leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. He closed his eyes, savoring the tender touch, and you peppered more kisses across his face, focusing on his cheeks. Jungwon smiled shyly, clearly basking in your love.

“I love you,” he murmured, his eyes still closed as he relished the moment.

Soon, your attention shifted to his neck, kissing and nibbling where you know he is sensitive. You watch how he blushes under your touch, his neck and ears turning a soft shade of red. A bit of teasing never killed anyone, right?

“I love you too, Wonie,” you whispered back against his collarbone.

With your sweet confession and your breath agaisnt his skin, Jungwon moans and gently grabs your face, so he could face you. With an adorable blush on his cheeks, Jungwon makes some pressure in your shoulders for you to lay down in your back again so he could rest on top of you.

“We should get up,” he said between kisses. “And eat breakfast.” Another peck. “We also need to return Layla to Jake hyung.”

“I don’t want to leave the bed…” you whined, pulling the covers over both of you.

Jungwon chuckled and brushed your cheek with his thumb, locking eyes with you in quiet intimacy. His gaze was so intense and sweet that it made your heart race. For a full minute, you stayed like that, tangled in each other, feeling his fingers trailing along your thighs.

He didn’t want to leave bed either, but he worried he might lose control if you stayed like this any longer. He would forget everything and take you right there and then, showing how much he loves you. So, with a mischievous grin, he proposed, “The last one to leave the bed has to cook breakfast and clean the kitchen alone.”

Before you could protest, he jumped out of bed. But as he turned, you grabbed his pants, causing him to tumble back onto the mattress.

You burst into laughter and bolted toward the kitchen, wearing nothing but his oversized shirt and a black thong. Jungwon stayed lying on the bed, watching you with adoration. He didn’t mind cooking or cleaning—not when you brought this much love to his life.

Taglist; @grandlightcandy @seokseokjinkim @strxwbloody @enhasunghoonishot @contyynishimura @heewanrik @ranwonbin @leanderexists @lovelyyf @youngheejay @crimson-reaper576 @rikifever If you want to be added or taken off the taglist, just let me know!

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! May I request a steamy # 8 With Carmy? (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

Sweet Dreams.

8. "I had a dream about you."

Synopsis - You can't look Carmy in the eye this morning. He's determined to figure out why.

Pairing - Roommate!Carmen Berzatto x Female Reader

Warnings - smut. cursing. carmen is a menace.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 1k

Author's Note - the people love carmy!! and I totally understand why. another roommate fic, because everyone adores them - me included!! this takes place in the same universe as Finders, Keepers and Pity Party, but you can decide whether this happens before or after those. your choice!! <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Series Masterlist. Masterlist. Inbox.

"The fuck is your problem?"

Carmy has you cornered, backed up against the kitchen counter. You've been avoiding him all morning, and he's finally had enough.

"I... there's... what?" you squeak, taken aback.

He's usually so gentle with you, so careful. You'd be lying if you said you weren't enjoying the sudden dominance he's displaying.

"I said," he begins, leaning down so he's nose to nose with you, "what is your problem? The fuck is going on with you?"

When you exhale shakily, he takes a more gentle approach.

"Honey... Did I do something wrong? Have I upset you? You haven't been able to look at me all morning. You're freaking me out."

"No, no!" you rush out. "You haven't done anything wrong. It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"I'm gonna worry, until you explain yourself."

You know he means well, that his concern is coming from a place of love. The problem is, the truth is mortifying. Ridiculously embarrassing. You and Carmy have a good thing going, as roommates, and you don't want to ruin that.

"It's nothing, Carm."

"Look me in the eyes and tell me that."

You flick your eyes up to meet his piercing blue ones, and you hesitate. You've never been in the habit of lying to each other. In fact, you're not sure you're physically capable of it. Those big ocean eyes can see right through you.

"Fine. But you have to promise not to laugh."

"I promise."

You take a breath, and confess as quickly as you can.

"Ihadadreamaboutyou."

The corners of his lips quirk, tilting his head in confusion.

"Say that again. Didn't quite catch it."

You roll your eyes, and commit. You might aswell, at this point.

"I had a dream about you."

He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, deliberating what to say.

"What kind of dream?"

Fuck. You were hoping he wouldn't want you to elaborate.

"A good one."

"A good one, huh? Must have been, if you can't even look me in the eye this morning."

You roll your eyes and shove him in the chest lightly.

"I knew you'd be a dick if I told you. Hence why I didn't."

"No, you didn't tell me because you're embarrassed."

He steps closer to you, backing you up against the counter again. He leans in so he's forehead to forehead with you, lips brushing yours everytime he speaks.

"Where does your filthy little mind go when you fall asleep, hmm? Was I at least good, in this dream of yours? Live up to your expectations?"

"You were fine," you mumble.

"Fine? Honey, I'm the best chef in this city. I don't do fine."

"You woke me up with all the noise you were making in the kitchen before I could get to the good part."

"Oh, I left you hanging? Shit, baby. Well we can't have that."

In one fluid motion, Carmy picks you up and sits you on the counter, moving to stand between your legs. You wrap them around his hips instinctively, arms flying up around his neck.

"You gonna let me finish what I started?"

You stare into his eyes for a moment, trying to find any semblance of humour or amusement. All you find is adoration, compassion, and lust.

"You think you can?" you whisper teasingly, knowing exactly which buttons to push.

"Honey, when are you going to learn that I am the best at everything I do?"

Carmy closes the gap between you, smashing his lips to yours. It's all teeth and tongue and nipping and biting, no tenderness to be found. He slips his hand under your sleep shirt, running a finger up the middle of your underwear.

"Fuck," he groans. "Real good dream, huh?"

You nod and buck your hips into his touch, desperate to feel him.

"Right now, I'm gonna take the edge off, okay? And then, I'm gonna spread you out, and make you tell me every single little thing that happened in your dream, so you can experience it properly."

You nod frantically in response, hands clawing at his clothed shoulders. Carmy pulls your underwear down your legs and pushes them apart, wasting no time. He runs two fingers up and down, revelling in the wet warmth.

"Please," you whisper. "Please, Carmy."

He connects his lips to yours as he slides his fingers into you, muffling your sounds against his mouth. As much as you hate to admit it, he's right. He knows what he's doing, and he's good at it.

You've been so worked up all morning that it doesn't take Carmy long to figure out what you like. In no time, he's thrusting and curling his fingers, pressing his thumb onto your clit and making you whine. He's got his other arm wrapped around your middle, keeping you pressed close to him.

"You're close, honey. Can feel you. Come on, this is what you wanted, isn't it? I've got you."

You press your lips to his, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth right as you fall over the edge. Carmy trails kisses down your neck, under your ear, onto your temple, holding you tightly as you find your release. Your toes curl, back arching off the counter as you drop your head onto his chest to catch your breath.

After a couple of minutes, you pull away to look at him, smiling when you find him grinning at you.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs. "I don't tell you enough."

"So are you," you whisper, careful not to break the moment. "You're beautiful, Carm."

He ducks down and kisses you again, sweeter this time.

"Now," he mutters against your lips. "Start from the beginning, in this dream of yours."

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javiscigarette · 1 year ago

Text

For You, I Would

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel catches you doing something you definitely shouldn't be doing and teaches you you lesson (or a prequel to Push and Pull aka the first time he sends you to subspace)

Warnings: no use of y/n, let's see, PWP, established relationship, dom Joel (daddy Joel near the end) fingering, crying, subspace, degradation, cum play, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), spitting, spanking, ass play, creampies, wet, messy, filthy smut

w/c: 9k of pwp oops

a/n: Sooo there are multiple requests that have been sitting in my inbox collecting dust for months so this is long overdue. And ummm I think I was possessed or something while writing this bc Whoa!!! it's a lot. Anyway, it was fun revisiting push and pull, hope this lives up to those standards lmao

my masterlist

"Yours" you pant, hands clawing at the blankets beneath you. "Always yours" "Mhm" he hums against your neck, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. "And that's why you like when it's too much. When I'm in charge and you have to do what I tell you, when you have to take what I give you and not complain about it. Because you like being mine"

It happens on a late, rainy Saturday morning.

The bedroom is dark when you wake up, the rain pounding against the windowpane with a soft rumble of thunder in the distance. The spot next to you is empty but the smell of food cooking wafting upstairs and through the slightly cracked bedroom door lets you know where he is.

You roll over to the empty side of the bed, the soft sheets still slightly warm. You bury your face into his pillow, the smell of his cologne and shampoo overriding your senses. And that's when you feel it, wetness seeping out of you down your inner thigh. You glance over to the alarm clock, which read 10:12am, 3 hours after Joel woke up with his raging hardon pressed firmly into the back of your thigh. 3 hours after he fucked you into the bed and how he made you cum around his cock twice before he unloaded inside of you, then slowly fucked his cum in as deep as he could get it.

He got a wet rag to clean you up, but you were too sleepy and tried to actually get up and do something about the liquid slowly seeping out of you. But you kind of liked it, falling back asleep to the feeling of being full of his hot release, drops of it dribbling out of you even though you tried your best to keep it in.

And now, your cunt is already aching at the thought of his cum still deep inside of you so much of it right where it should be. You inhale a deep breath with your face squished against the pillow, the scent of him going straight to your core and adding to the building pressure. You wish he was here; wish he would just fuck another load into you right now. But if he's making breakfast, then you can't complain.

So, you take matters into your own hand. With a deep breath, you slip a hand between your bare thighs and press the heel of your palm to your clit, the friction immediately making you moan quietly into the pillow. You rock your hips slowly, lighting grinding against your hand before dipping your fingers into the mess leaking from your hole. You don't even think, you just do. You smear his cum on your cunt, coating it thickly and slipping two fingers into yourself with ease. It's almost embarrassing how easy you open up for them, how slick and wet you are, both from a couple hours ago and now. Your chest feels warm and tight as you slowly pump your fingers in and out of your swollen hole, letting soft moans tumble past your lips as you do so. You're so consumed in what you're doing that you don't hear the bedroom door creak open.

"What are you doing, baby?"

You gasp and yank your hand away like you've been burnt, rolling over onto your back and staring wide-eyed at him.

He's standing in the doorway, red and plaid pj pants hanging low on his hips. His arms are crossed over his bare chest, his face set in a deep frown.

He caught you red fucking handed.

"N-nothing, I swear. I was just..." You're not sure how to finish that sentence. Your heart was already kicking in your chest from both arousal and the expectancy of Joel's next course of action. You knew you were in for it. You know you broke his rules.

You cower under his icy glare, wishing you could just disappear into the mattress. But you can still feel a gush of slick seeping out of you, adding to the mess in between your legs. Your heart beats even faster as he silently crosses the room to the side of the bed where you're lying. He sits on the edge, one leg tucked under him so he can face you.

"Do you remember our rule?” His tone is sickeningly sweet and gentle.

"I-I'm not allowed to touch myself unless you say."

"Mhm" he nods, his hand falling to your thigh. You can feel his grip through the comforter. "Was comin' up here to tell you breakfast is ready, and this is what I find. A bad little girl breaking the rules"

"I-I'm sorry, sir."

He's rubbing your thigh now, the soft fabric of the blanket separating his hand from your skin. "That's alright. It's okay to make mistakes."

The heaviness in your chest lightens at that, a soft smile curling on your lips. You thought you were really in for it.

"But you know what I have to do now, right?"

Your heart leaps back into your throat, a wave of nerves hitting you again, undercut with the wave of arousal causing more slick to leak out of your sore hole. You whine and squirm under the blankets, giving him the most remorseful look you can.

"I'm sorry, sir" you whisper again, pleading with wide wet eyes. "Just wanted to feel you. Wanted more." Your voice wavers and trails off to a quiet whisper as you cast your eyes down in shame.

Joel hums, his hand traveling further up your leg, pushing the blanket off your thigh in the process. His hand is warm and big, almost completely engulfing the flesh of your upper thigh.

"I know, baby" he murmurs, his eyes glued to where your thighs are pressed together. "Poor little thing is always so desperate to be filled, huh?"

You bite your lip and nod your head but keep your body perfectly still. You know better than to move right now after the stunt you just pulled. He moves his hand between your legs, his thumb swiping against the slick leaking out of you.

"My little slut is still all wet" he mumbles. The words make you shiver.

He wipes the pad of his thumb over your clit, causing you to gasp and jolt. He shushes you, his other hand coming to grip the underside of your thigh, slowly spreading your legs apart. A low groan, almost a growl, comes from deep in his chest at the sight of your swollen, sopping wet cunt on full display for him, his cum mixed with your sticky arousal leaking steady from your fluttering hole, dripping down, and sliding over your asshole onto the sheets below you.

"Such a sloppy little cunt" he murmurs, dragging his fingers through the mess and then pulling them away. Your eyes are glued to his movements, watching with rapt attention as he raises his hand and slips his fingers into his mouth, licking the wetness off them with a pleased hum.

"Gonna teach you a lesson, baby.” He announces after pulling his fingers from his mouth. “Gonna teach you to follow our rules.”

"Please, sir” you plead. “I'll be good, I promise. Just...just wanna feel you."

"Oh, I know you’ll be good. And you're gonna feel me" he purrs, his fingers back on your cunt, spreading the slick around and rubbing against your clit. "Gonna fill you up, sweet girl.”

You whimper at his words, a new wave of arousal hitting you and coating his fingers. He groans and slips his middle finger into you with no resistance.

"But first, m'gonna make you cum"

You're shocked at his promise. He rarely lets you get off the hook this easy. He wastes no time, pumping his thick finger in and out of your cunt. You moan softly, the pleasure rippling through your stomach, your muscles tightening as he works. He wastes no time adding another finger and curls them up, rubbing at the spot that makes you see stars. Your walls flutter around him as electricity crackles down your spine and settles as white heat between your legs. You whimper as he massages your front walls, more slick and cum running down his fingers into his palm.

"Gettin' my hand all messy, baby" he mumbles.

You try to stifle a moan as you watch his fingers slide in and out of your drenched hole, the lewd wet sounds of it all fills the room and causes your cheeks to burn. It doesn't take long for him to bring you to the edge. It never does. He's had too much practice, knows your body and what buttons to press that get you there in no time.

"Close, sir. Please, I'm so close" you breathe, your hands fisted tightly in the sheets beneath you.

"Go on" Joel murmurs, his voice low and gravelly. "Cum all over my fingers, baby"

And then you're coming undone, a cry leaving your lips as your muscles clench and contract, the waves of pleasure hitting you like a ton of bricks. Joel groans, his fingers never slowing, and leans down to kiss and nip at your neck, his tongue running over the damp hallow of your throat while his other hand squeezes the flesh of your thigh.

"That's it, baby. So good for me, so good."

You're a whimpering mess, your hips rocking and chasing the high as he works you through your orgasm. You eventually start to come down, but his fingers are unrelenting. He continues to massage your front wall, his mouth attached to the base of your throat. You feel like jelly, your limbs heavy and boneless, the only thing grounding you being Joel's hot mouth sucking a dark hickey onto the side of your neck and his thick fingers buried in your cunt.

"That's one" he mutters against your skin.

You gasp and whine. You know exactly what he means.

"Joel, fuck I can't-"

"Don't fuckin' lie" he growls, his teeth nipping at your collar bone. "Needed to cum so badly that you had to break the rules and touch yourself and now you're sayin' you can't handle it?"

"Joel, please. I-"

"You'll cum as many times as I tell you to. Greedy girl, should be grateful that I'm lettin' you cum at all"

You bite down hard on your bottom lip, the familiar tension beginning to build back up in the pit of your stomach. You try to squirm out from his grasp, even though you're well aware it's against your best interest to do so, but you can't help it. It's all so overwhelming and you know it's only going to get worse, that this is just the beginning of what he has planned for you. But his free hand quickly finds your hip, pinning you to the bed. You keep squirming, but the only movement you can manage is a slight roll of your hips against his hand.

"Stay still and take what I'm givin' you" he grunts, his hand squeezing the flesh of your hip.

"Can't" you whimper. "Can't, 's too much"

Much to your surprise, Joel immediately retracts his hand and sits up straight again. The pressure of his fingers is gone, which you thought would be a relief, but all you feel is cold and empty. He glares down at you, one eyebrow raised expectantly as the muscles flex in his jaw.

"You want me to stop?"

"No! No, I didn't mean it like that"

"What did you mean, baby? Because I'm not a mind reader. If you need me to stop, then you know what to say, don’t you?"

"I know, I just, I mean-"

"You just what? Just want to be bad still?"

His tone makes you feel small and little, and your cheeks burn. You'd probably cry if it were any other situation, but your cunt just clenches pathetically around absolutely nothing.

"I meant, um, I meant it's too much and I can't handle it and-and"

"And you're being punished," Joel interjects "And you need to fucking deal with it" his gaze icy and dark.

You bite your lip and nod, tears pricking behind your eyes, but you blink them away. "Yes, Sir."

He hums approving, his wet hand sliding further up your thigh, back towards your center.

"What's the safe word?" he asks, his tone slightly gentler. Just slightly.

"Red" you squeak out.

"Do you wanna use it?"

you shake your head vehemently. "No, sir."

He chuckles darkly, his wet fingers tracing over your cunt and teasing your entrance. "Didn't think so. Such a greedy little cockslut."

He's back inside you before you can even respond, pumping his two fingers in and out. You cry out, the sudden fullness and stretch making you writhe under him as his calloused finger pads rubbing against your velvety walls in just the right way. He doesn't bother letting you adjust, just immediately curls his fingertips and pummels against your g-spot. The familiar tension is already building again, but you're so sensitive, and it feels like too much, like a burning ache deep inside of you.

"Oh, god. Oh, fuck" you choke out, voice already watery and wrecked.

"Takin' my fingers so good, baby" Joel groans, his eyes fixed on where he's working in and out of your swollen cunt. "Look so pretty stuffed full of my fingers."

Your thighs shake and your breath gets caught in your throat, and that's how Joel knows.

"That's it. Cum, baby. I wanna feel you squeeze around me again"

You open your mouth, ready to tell him again how it's too much but all that comes out is a loud moan as the tightly wound cord finally snaps. Your walls clamp down around his fingers as your incessantly roll your hips, inadvertently grinding your clit against the heel of his palm. Your hand shoots up to grab his bicep, your fingernails digging into the skin so hard that you're positive you're drawing blood.

"There you go, baby, that’s it. That’s two."

He's not stopping, doesn't even slow down, and the intensity is so great that a few tears slip from your eyes. He finally takes his hand off your hip, allowing you to move your lower body, and instead uses his now free hand to push the thin straps of your camisole off your shoulders, tugging it down and exposing your chest.

"Play with your tits, baby" he growls, his fingers still moving inside of you. His voice is starting to sound a little further away as the blood pumping through your veins roars in your ear. Your hands immediately find your chest, squeezing your soft mounds before tweaking your nipples.

"Oh, god" you choke out, back arching off the mattress and into your own touch. Your legs are shaking uncontrollably, and it feels like your heart is going to beat right out of your chest. The fire in your belly is burning bright again, creeping in before you can even recover from the last one. It's all too much. You feel like you're being lit on fire, the feeling in your core almost too intense. You're so overwhelmed and overstimulated yet so desperate for more all at the same time.

"Gonna cum for me again, baby?" Joel taunts, his lips curved in a devilish smirk.

You can't even respond, you can't do anything but lay there and let him work, a pathetic whining noise leaving your lips. Your hands are still on your breasts, playing with them as best you can, pinching and tugging at your nipples, your back arching off the mattress as pleasure and pain surge through you. You don't register what he's doing with his other hand until it’s pushing down on your stomach, right on top of where he’s stroking your spot with his fingers. And the tension snaps once again.

And that's when the tears fall.

Hot, wet drops stream freely down your cheeks as the dam breaks open. Your entire body tenses as you cum for the third time in less than 10 minutes, the overwhelming pleasure coursing through every cell in your body while you positively writhe underneath him.

Joel notices and his fingers immediately still inside of you. Anxiety and concern replace the hunger in his eyes, his heart now pounding his chest for a completely different reason.

"Color, baby" he says, his voice soft and gentle, doing a good job to mask the worry that's quickly consuming him.

You blink rapidly, trying to clear your vision enough to look at him. You can't make out his features, your eyes bleary with unshed tears, and your body is so wracked with tremors that you're unable to speak, your breath catching in your throat.

You don't answer, and it terrifies him. His hand slips from your core and you whine, feeling empty and cold and sore, more slick dripping down between your cheeks. He moves to lie next you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you tight against his chest.

"M'sorry, baby" Joel whispers, his voice trembling slightly as you continue to sob into his chest. His heart pounds and his hands trembling where he's holding you. It takes another minute or two for you to calm down and finally take a deep breath.

"M'okay" you manage to mumble, your lips brushing against his skin. He pulls back at the sound of your voice so he can look at your face. His stomach twists a little at the sight of your raw, tear-stained cheeks.

"Fuck, baby. Are you sure? I shouldn't have pushed, should've listened to you, should've--"

"It's okay" you breathe, cutting him off. "Wasn't too much just.... just felt really good"

Joel frowns and wipes away some of your tears with the pad of his thumb "But you were cryin' honey."

You let out a faint chuckle. "Yeah. But...but it's good. Like, so fucking good"

His face relaxes a bit, relief washing over him as he sighs. "Had me worried, baby. Thought I went too far."

"No, no, you were perfect" you murmur. "Just...didn't expect it, I guess"

Joel hums and places a sweet kiss on your forehead.

"How do you feel now?" he asks, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

"Shaky, sore. Tired."

He nods his head, his gaze dropping from yours for a moment.

"Think we should talk about this" he says after a few moments.

"We are talkin’" you giggle weakly.

"M'bein' serious" he huffs, his gaze returning to yours.

"I know" you sigh. "Talk about what?”

"What happened. That was a lot, baby. Never seen you come undone like that before"

"I told you it felt good” you remind him, snuggling a bit closer. “Better than good, actually"

"Well, I know that. But I need to know if you're okay, right?"

"Of course. You took care of me. Made sure I was alright"

"I mean, yeah, I did. But...but you’ve never cried like that, sweetheart. Scared me a little"

You stare up at him, his brown eyes full of concern but still so much of that familiar warmth.

"I liked it" you say quietly, suddenly very aware of how close his bare chest is to your face. "Like a lot. Liked how...how in control you were. Like being used by you, liked the way it felt to be..."

"To be what, baby?"

"Overstimulated. I...I like it when it's too much."

"Jesus Christ" Joel groans, the sound vibrating in his chest and tickling your cheek. "Didn't know I had such a filthy girl in my bed."

"It's not filthy, it's...it's fun."

"Hmm, and that's the only reason?"

"Why else would I like it?"

"C'mon baby, don't play dumb. We both know why you like it"

"W-what are you talking about?"

He laughs, his chest bouncing, and rolls on top of you, his hands bracketing your face and his lips finding yours. He kisses you deeply, his tongue sliding into your mouth and tasting you, his beard scraping against the smooth skin of your cheeks.

"I think you like it because it makes you feel small." He whispers when he pulls away. "And you like being taken care of and held down and bossed around and fucked."

"Joel" you whimper, his words sending a pulse straight to your already throbbing core.

"You like being a good girl for me" he continues, ghosting his lips along your jaw and down the side of your neck, sucking and nipping as he goes. "But you love being punished, don't you? Like when I use you and take whatever I want, however I want. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?"

"Yes" you moan, your legs falling open wider as he settles his body in between them. "God, yes. Love it when you fuck me and call me names and-- and hold me down and tell me what to do."

"I know, baby. Know you're a filthy little slut who needs to be taken apart. My dirty little girl. Aren't ya?"

"Yours" you pant, hands clawing at the blankets beneath you. "Always yours"

"Mhm" he hums against your neck, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine.

"And that's why you like when it's too much. When I'm in charge and you have to do what I tell you, when you have to take what I give you and not complain about it. Because you like being mine"

His words bring back that floaty feeling, your heart starting to race in your chest again. He's right, he knows as much as you do.

"I love it, Joel” you admit breathlessly. “Love being yours"

“I know, baby” Joel hums, his teeth nipping at the base of your throat. "And you want to keep going, don't you?"

"Please" you beg almost immediately, rolling your hips against his, your clit brushing up against the bulge in his sweatpants.

"Good girl" he growls, his hot tongue lapping at the sweat glistening on the skin of your neck. He trails wet, open-mouthed kisses from the hollow of your throat to your collarbone and down your sternum until he reaches your chest. He takes a nipple in his mouth, his teeth grazing the sensitive nub and making you gasp. He sucks and licks, the tip of his tongue swirling around stiff peak before switching to the other, the flat of his tongue laving over it.

"Love when I tease you like this too, huh honey?" he says, his hot breath fanning over your chest. "Love when I get you all worked up and touch you everywhere except the one place you want it."

"Yes, sir." you whine, threading your fingers through his hair, fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp. He hums as he rolls his tongue around your nipple one last time before pulling back and sitting up.

"Hands and knees" he says firmly, and your stomach flutters at the command as you scramble to sit up and position yourself just like he wants.

"Such a good girl" he croons, his large hand caressing the small of your back. "So eager and ready to please"

You let out a breathy whimper, his praise making you giddy.

"You gonna do what I tell you? Be my good little girl and let me play with that tight cunt until you can't think anymore?"

"Yes, sir" you nod.

"What's the safe word?"

"Red"

"And what are you going to do if you want me to stop?"

"Say red"

"Good girl."

The hand on your back slides lower, his palm cupping your ass.

"Spread your legs wider for me" he instructs, his other hand sliding up your spine and pushing your shoulder forward, encouraging you to lean down and put your face against the mattress. You do as he says, moving your knees apart and bowing your back, giving him a nice view of your ass.

"There ya go. Now, stay."

You wait in anticipation, wondering what's coming next. A few seconds later, he swats your ass cheek, not enough to necessarily hurt, but enough for it to sting a little. He rubs the reddened flesh, squeezing the cheek in his palm.

"So fuckin' pretty" he rasps. "My pretty girl."

He delivers a sharp slap to your opposite cheek, his palm connecting with the plump skin. Your cunt clenches and you moan at the delicious pain. He growls, delivering a couple more smacks, a bit harder this time, before soothing the tender flesh.

He then leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to the small of your back, his beard tickling your skin before moving lower. You feel his hot breath against your slit as his palms slide down and grab handfuls of your ass, his thumbs spreading your cheeks and exposing your cunt and asshole.

"Jesus Christ" he hisses, his warm breath fanning over your pussy. "You're fucking soaked, baby."

Without warning, he drags his tongue through your folds, lapping at your swollen and dripping core. You let out a wet gasp, the sensation immediately rekindling the fire in your belly.

"So goddamn sweet" Joel groans, He buries his face between your legs, his tongue and beard driving you crazy, the scratch of his stubble burning on your inner thigh. He sucks on your clit, his lips closing around the swollen nub and pulling it into his mouth, his tongue flicking expertly at the little bud. You're so oversensitive and can already feel the coil tightening again.

He flattens his tongue and licks from your clit to your aching hole over and over again. He gets higher and higher with each one until his tongue is lapping at your other hole.

"Oh, fuck" you cry out, the unexpected sensation of his tongue probing at your ass throwing you off guard. Your cunt clenches, and Joel feels it, the vibration making him hum, his beard still scraping the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. He presses his face harder between your cheeks, his tongue swirling around your entrance before pushing in.

The sounds of your strained moan echo through the room as he fucks his tongue in and out of your tight hole. You squirm, desperate for some friction on your aching cunt, but you're unable to move, his large hands holding your hips firmly against his face. He doesn't let up, his tongue pumping in and out, fucking you and driving you absolutely crazy. He groans as you clench around him, the sound vibrating against you and making you shake. The heat is building rapidly, and your vision starts to blur.

"Gonna make you cum again, angel. Wanna see you fall apart with my tongue in this sweet little hole and my fingers in your tight little cunt"

"Please" you whine, not knowing how much more you can take.

He pulls back, but you only have a second of missing the feeling before he spits on your cunt and uses his fingers to spread it around, mixing it with the slick that's still dripping out of you. He slides a finger inside, hissing when he feels the tight heat of your pussy once again. He adds another, and quickly builds up to that devastating pace, thick fingers pumping in and out of your needy cunt.

"So fuckin' tight" he murmurs, curling his fingers and stroking your walls. "Still so fuckin' tight and wet." You squeeze your eyes closed and breathlessly pant as he scissors his fingers, stretching and opening you up. He adds a third this time, the slide slick and easy as your hole graciously takes what he gives you. His thumb presses on your clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive nub while he uses the other t=hand to grab your ass and spread you open again. He spits again this time on your asshole, just adding even more to the mess.

"Joel" you cry, his name falling from your lips in a whisper. He's fucking your pussy with his fingers, his thumb working your clit. He doesn't respond, just leans back in and starts lapping at your asshole again. You feel the tension build again, the heat coiling deep inside your gut, the pleasure so intense and overwhelming. Your legs shake and your hips rock back and forth, your body desperate for relief.

"That's it, honey. Want to feel you cum again. Feel how tight and wet you get when I fuck this ass with my tongue and play with your messy little cunt."

Your toes curl, and your back arches, the pressure becoming unbearable. Your pussy squeezes around his thick fingers, and the coil snaps, the tension releasing and the dam breaking. Your mind goes blank, and you scream and sob, your vision turning white. You cry, convulse, and tremble, your whole body shaking as your 4th orgasm rocks through you. He fucks you through it, his fingers continuing to pump in and out of you and his tongue lapping at the slickness between your cheeks.

"Holy shit, baby" he breathes, pulling away when you finally start to come down. You feel him shift behind you, his fingers sliding out of your pulsing pussy and his body moving away from yours. You're still trembling, and your body is numb. Your head feels heavy, and your eyelids are starting to droop. You feel him moving behind you, but you're too exhausted to turn and look at him.

But that doesn't fly with him.

"Look at me" he commands, and it takes nearly all of your remaining energy to turn your head and look at him over your shoulder. His pupils are blown, his eyes darkening and his jaw clenching. He growls low and deep in his chest, his cock lurching in his pants, and he can't wait any longer. He sits up and fumbles with his drawstring, yanking the knot loose and shoving his plaid pajama pants down his hips. You whimper when his cock springs free, finally relieved of its confines. He hisses as the cold air hits him, but quickly kicks the pants off the rest of the way.

"Can you talk to me, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice strained as he wraps a hand around his stiff length.

"Yes, Sir" you sniffle, blinking tears out of your eyes.

"Tell me how you're feeling, baby"

"Sore, Sir. But I like it. feel...floaty"

"That's alright, baby. Just relax. Daddy's going to take care of you, okay? I'm going to use this sweet little pussy, and you're gonna lay there and take it like a good girl for me, alright?"

The name he uses causes another strong wave arousal to course through your veins before settling between thighs. The two of you rarely use it - it's usually sir for you, and he rarely calls himself that. But it’s perfect for the moment and you can't help the way your heart speeds up at the sound of it.

"Yes, daddy." you moan, loving the way your lips form around the word, the way it effortlessly slides off your tongue. "Whatever you want. Anything."

"God, you're such a sweet girl" he moans. "Such a good girl, baby. Gonna be daddy's good little slut?"

"Yes, please" you nod, desperate for him to touch you. "Wanna be a good girl."

"I know, angel. Daddy knows." He moves, hovering over you as he digs the lube out of the nightstand. "Gotta make sure you're nice and wet first"

There’s absolutely no need for it. You’re drenched with cum and slick and spit, wetter than you’ve probably ever been. But he knows how you like it. How he likes it. Wet, hot, and so, so messy.

He sits back, and you watch him squirt some of the liquid into his palm and rub it up and down his length. It's mesmerizing, watching him stroke his cock, the thick, head disappearing and reappearing through the circle of his fingers, his shaft growing even more flushed and the veins protruding and twitching, precum beading at his slit, some of it dripping over his knuckles. You're not sure how much more teasing you can take.

"Always so fucking wet and ready for me" he murmurs, rubbing his cock up and down your dripping folds, getting himself even wetter with your juices. "Such a sweet little whore for me, hm? Sweet messy little slut, always begging to be fucked and filled up"

You're about to say something, about to beg and tell him yes, you're ready, please, please fuck me, please, sir, when you feel his fingers dip into your pussy again. You moan as he gathers more of your slick and brings his hand to his cock, slathering himself in your juices.

"Messy little thing" he muses. He can't wait any longer. With the tip of his cock against your entrance, he grabs your hip with one hand and your shoulder with the other.

"Tell me you're mine, darlin'" he orders.

"Yours" you immediately whine through tears, arching your back and pushing your hips back. "I'm yours. All yours. Please, Joel, I can't—".

You're cut off by the pressure of his thick cock sliding into your heat. It's a tight fit, a snug squeeze, despite him opening you up on his fingers and tongue. You don’t think you’ll ever be used to his size, his sheer length and girth stretching you out until it burns, no matter how wet and ready you are.

But he goes slow, sinking in inch by inch, allowing your walls to stretch and accommodate his size. His jaw clenches and his teeth grind together, his eyes falling shut. "That's it, sweet girl" he murmurs, slowly pushing further. "Just relax and let daddy in."

"Daddy" you whimper weakly, your cunt clenching and pulsing around him.

"Take my cock, baby. Just like that."

You're shaking and sweating, your is head spinning. The feeling of him pushing inside is like nothing you've ever felt before, even though you’ve taken him countless times. He's hot and hard, filling and stretching you to the point where you can barely breathe.

"So big" you choke out. "So full 'n sore, daddy" you cry, tears starting to stream down your face again.

"I know, honey. I know"

He bottoms out, his hips pressing flush against the cheeks of your ass. You gasp and sob, the feeling of him being fully seated inside of you and the stretch and burn overwhelming you. He gives you a minute to adjust, waiting until your breathing returns to normal and the shaking in your limbs subsides. When he feels you relax a bit, he pulls out, slowly dragging his length out until only the tip is left, before pushing back in.

"You're bein’ so sweet, baby. Lettin’ daddy use your tight little pussy."

You don’t say anything in response, just bury face into the sheets, grabbing handfuls of the fabrics as you sob.

He takes a deep breath and starts to move. Slowly, gently, he pulls out halfway and slides back in, his movements measured and precise. He wants to take his time, doesn't want to hurt you, but the tight squeeze of your cunt, the wetness and the heat and the slick, velvety walls clenching around him are making it difficult.

"More" you gasp. "Please, daddy, more. Need it. Need you."

And how could he deny you that? How could he not give you everything you want, everything you need? So, he sits up and slides his hands back to your hips, gripping them tightly and pulling you back onto him as he rolls his hips forward, the force and the angle making his cock slide over your g-spot. Your vision goes fuzzy, and the air leaves your lungs, and when you finally manage to gasp, his name falls from your lips.

"Fuck" he groans, the sound of his deep, raspy voice sending a rush of fresh wetness around his cock. He can't help but start thrusting into you, snapping his hips against yours, the obscene slapping noise of skin on skin filling the room. “Look at you, poor little baby cryin’ for my cock”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, just reaches up and tangles his hand in your hair, his other hand holding on tight to your waist, gripping the soft skin. He yanks, his fingers threaded through your hair and pulling you up, forcing your back to arch. The new angle makes your head spin, his cock dragging against your sensitive spot and his hips grinding against your ass.

"Daddy!" you gasp. You want to tell him how good it feels, how his cock is filling you up, his size stretching you and hitting places that have never been touched. You want to tell him that you're not sure you're ever going to be able to cum again without his thick cock splitting you open. But your mind is clouded, your body overwhelmed and your tongue heavy. The most you can manage is his name, over and over, a breathless, broken, raspy mantra.

"Yeah, baby" he grunts. "Take it just like that. My good girl takes everything I give her"

And you do.

You take and take and take and when you're not taking, you're begging. Begging for him to keep going, begging for more, begging him not to stop. And the more you beg, the faster his pace becomes, his hips stuttering against yours. And the faster he goes, the lighter you feel.

The fog that has settled in your brain is becoming thicker and heavier, and when you start to feel weightless, like you're floating, you realize you can't move. Your limbs are heavy, and all you can do is lay there, limp, useless, and completely at his mercy. Your ears start ringing faintly, and your body feels warm and tingly and the only thing keeping you tethered to reality is Joel.

"My good girl" he grunts "So fuckin' pretty. So beautiful like this. Just lettin' me use you like a goddamn little fuck toy, huh? Lettin' me fuckin' ruin you? You love it, don't you?"

You can't even respond. Can't form a sentence, can't form a single word. You're not even sure if you could make a noise. Your eyelids are fluttering, and your eyes roll back into your head, and the only thing keeping you from floating away is the pressure of Joel's hand around your waist. But soon that's not even enough to keep you grounded. Your entire body starts tingling and the ringing in your ears grows louder, and when Joel's thrusts become harder, his cock drilling into you with abandon, his balls slapping against you, and the obscene, wet noises of his cock pumping in and out of you filling the air, the tingling gets stronger, and your body begins to feel numb.

You start to slip, and with your face still turned to the side, Joel watches in awe as it happens.

The feeling is so intense, and when Joel's other hand grips your other side, holding you in place as he fucks you, it's enough to make you spiral. Your vision goes dark, and you stop hearing the sounds of skin slapping and the dirty things coming out of his mouth and the creaking of the bed and the squeak of the mattress springs. All you can feel is his thick cock filling you, the tip brushing against your cervix with each thrust, his balls hitting your clit, the heat of his body on top of yours, the heat of his skin searing into your back. You can feel the wetness leaking out of you and the tightening coil of desire low in your belly, pleasure so intense, all consuming. You float out of your body, time and space ceasing to exist. Your mind is completely wiped, your vision black with stars dancing across your field of view. You feel weightless, free.

And then there's nothing left. No more thoughts, no more feelings. Just bliss. Peace.

Just Joel.

There is nothing except the weight of Joel's body on top of yours and the pressure of his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your waist, holding you in place while he fucks you. There's nothing else. Nothing. You can't even think anymore. Your mind is blank, empty, and the only thing that remains is the feeling of his body on top of yours, and the heat. God the heat.

He's hot.

You're hot.

So fucking hot.

Everything is white hot and it's too much. It's too much and not enough, and it's not long before your body starts tensing, and your toes curl and the muscles in your legs clench and spasm and the pressure builds, and builds, and builds. And you don't even know what's happening, can't even process it.

It's not until his fingers find your clit again when the orgasm hits, the first wave of pleasure crashing over you, riptides dragging you underneath. It's the strongest orgasm of your life, the strongest you've ever had, and it doesn't even end. It just keeps building and building, the waves continuing, and every time you think it's over, another wave comes crashing down on top of you, stronger than the last, the pleasure ripping through your body and leaving you trembling and twitching and writhing, tears rolling steadily down your cheeks.

"There you go, baby" Joel rasps. " Just let go. Let it take over. Cum all over daddy’s cock."

It's like his words are an instruction manual, and you have no choice but to follow his command. The second he says it, you feel the tight coil inside your belly snap, the pressure releasing and flooding your veins, a tsunami of euphoria washing over you and dragging you deeper and deeper into the ocean.

"I'm gonna fill this greedy little pussy up again, sweetheart" he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic and his rhythm faltering. "Know how much you love it when it's drippin' out of you. Know how much you love the mess, my filthy, desperate, little cockslut"

You can't hear him, the sound of his voice too fuzzy and distant. You can't speak, your body and mind still floating, the world spinning and the darkness threatening to take over, to consume you, and the only thing that grounds you is the feeling of his skin on yours.

"Gonna cum inside you. Gonna pump that pussy full, gonna fuckin’ breed you, sweetheart”

And just like that, he does. He slams his cock into you one last time, bottoming out and burying himself inside you, the tip of his cock pressed right up against your cervix, his thick cockhead kissing the opening of your womb.

"Please, daddy" It's all you can manage to get out, and even though it's quiet, and barely a whisper, it's enough to send him over the edge.

"Fuck" he rasps, his cock throbbing and pulsing, his hips twitching as his cum floods your cunt. "That's it, take it, baby. Take all of it. Let it fill you up nice and good."

He collapses on top of you, his body flush with yours, his face buried in your hair, his breathing shallow and labored. He's panting, the rise and fall of his chest and the beating of his heart the only things that keep you from falling into the darkness. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, the heat of his skin against yours. He's warm and solid and he smells good, and it's comforting and safe and secure.

"Fuck" he breathes, the warmth of his exhale tickling the skin behind your ear. "Are you okay?"

His voice is quiet, concerned, and you can't even nod, let alone answer him, but when his lips find the pulse point in your neck, the light press of his soft lips sending a wave of relief through your body, the darkness receding and the fog clearing, the only thing that passes your lips is a shaky sigh.

"I got you, darlin'" he whispers, nuzzling the side of your face. "I'm here."

"Joel" you mumble, voice weak and watery. It's all you're able to get out, but it's enough.

"I know" he murmurs, his mouth finding the skin just below your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to the sensitive spot. "I know. I'm here, baby. I'm not going anywhere. Not ever. I promise."

He sits up and pulls his softened cock out, watching as his cum leaks from your stretched out pussy. He groans, sliding his hands up and down your thighs, his eyes drinking in the sight.

"Messy girl" he murmurs, swiping his fingers through the pool of wetness dripping from your cunt. "Look at all this. My cum leakin' outta your sloppy little cunt”

You can only whimper softly, your thighs closing around his hand. He takes the hint and removes it, wet fingers smoothing over your hipbone.

He moves to lie next you again, his hand wraps around your waist and pulls you against his body, the feeling of his bare chest pressed to yours and the soft brush of his lips on your hairline is enough to keep you tethered to reality. The two of you stay there for a while and your breathing synchs to the rhythm of his before he talks again.

"You went somewhere, didn't you?" he murmurs. His voice is a little husky, a little raspy, and his accent is a little thicker than usual. "Somewhere far away."

"Yeah" is all you can manage to say. You're not quite sure if it's a question or a statement, and either way, you're not even sure how to explain it.

"Was it a good place?"

"Mhm" you nod, the memories of the feeling coming back to you, the way your body felt like it was floating and the way everything just disappeared and the way everything went black and how you could barely breathe. "So good, Joel"

"Yeah? You liked that?"

Another nod.

"You want that again, honey?"

"Yeah" you say quietly. "Want you to push me. Make me cry, make me feel it."

"Mmm, think I can do that again, sweetheart” Joel assures, squeezing you a bit tighter.

"And tell me I'm yours” you add softly.

"You’re mine, sweet girl. You belong to me, and only me."

"And no one else's."

"No one else's" he repeats.

"Say it."

"You're mine. And no one else's."

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, darlin’. Now let’s get you cleaned up”

You whine in protest, not wanting to move a muscle as he rolls off the bed. But then he scoops you up into his arms, his strong arms under your knees and your back.

"What are you doing?" you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Can't have you walkin'" he replies. "You can barely open your eyes, I ain't about to let you fall on your ass."

He's right, of course. Your legs feel weak and shaky, and the second he lets go of you, you're not sure you'd be able to stay standing. But he doesn't let go, not even when you're both in the shower and he sets you down on the bench under the warm stream. His strong hands rub soap into your skin, lathering and washing away the sweat and the stickiness, and by the time the suds have rinsed away, the water is turning cold.

"We're gonna have to fix that" he mutters.

"Fix what?"

"This shit water heater."

You hum, the vibrations buzzing against his chest. He turns the water off and reaches for a big, fluffy towel, wrapping it around you and rubbing the fabric over your skin, drying you off. You brush your teeth together, smiling at each other in the mirror, Joel wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side.

"Joel?" you start after setting your toothbrush back in the cup.

"Hm?"

"I love you."

The smile on his face is soft and sweet and his eyes crinkle in the corners.

"I love you too, angel. Now, you stay right here, I'm gonna go strip the bed and I'll be right back, okay?"

You sit on the closed toilet seat lid, wrapped in your fluffy towel. Your eyes are heavy and droopy as you watch him out in your shared bedroom, pulling the soaked sheets off the bed and switching them for fresh ones as fast as he can. He picks out the white ones with the little blue flowers. The ones he knows are your favorite. You're exhausted and spent and satisfied, and the sight of him doing the most domestic task is almost enough to bring more tears to your eyes. You're not sure why, but the emotions are overwhelming, and you have to take a deep breath, steadying yourself.

He carries you back to bed, pulling the comforter over you and propping the pillows up behind you so you can lean back comfortably.

"Gonna go get some food, kay?" he finds the TV remote on the nightstand and hands it to you. "Here. Find something for us to watch. I'll be right back, don't you go anywhere, y'hear?"

"Yes, sir" you mumble, taking the remote and giving him a mock salute.

He shakes his head and laughs, then presses a kiss to your forehead before heading downstairs. The room is quiet when he leaves, the only sound left being the rain still steadily pounding against the window. You take it in, the quiet moment all to yourself. The smell of sex and sweat and his cologne and your body wash still lingers in the air, and you can still feel the tingling of your skin where his mouth and his hands had been, where his fingers and his teeth and his tongue had marked and claimed and branded you. You can still feel him everywhere. His breath on your skin, the ghost of his lips and his tongue. His hands gripping your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, the memory of the pain making your cunt ache.

He returns before your thoughts can wander too far, a plate filled with food in his hands, and a grin taking up over half of his face.

"Reheated your breakfast that you should've been eatin' damn near two hours ago" he teases, handing the plate over. "My special omelet. And toast."

He crawls onto the bed next to you, leaning back against the pillows and stretching his long legs out, then takes the plate back from you. He picks up a piece of the toast and holds it to your lips.

"Open" he orders.

You roll your eyes. "I can feed myself, Joel." But the second you see the look on his face, you open your mouth, letting him place the bread on your tongue.

"I know" he smirks. "But I can feed you, too."

"Thank you" you mumble around the bread, the corner of your mouth turned up.

"Anything for you, darlin'"

You eat the omelet in bites off the fork that he holds and the toast from his hand. He makes sure to place the plate carefully to catch all the crumbs too. And when the plate is empty, he sets it down on the nightstand, trading it for the tall glass of ice water with one of your favorite straws.

"Drink" he instructs. You obey and he watches you the whole time, only taking back the cup when he's satisfied with how much you take.

"That's my good girl" he purrs, reaching over to the nightstand for the bottle of your favorite lotion. "My good, good girl."

He squeezes some of the lotion into his palm, the smell of strawberries filling the air, and he starts rubbing it into your skin. He starts with your hands, massaging each finger, gently pressing down on your knuckles until they pop. He knows you hate it but he loves the noises, and the way your nose scrunches up is adorable. Then he moves to your arms, squeezing your bicep before rubbing his hands over your shoulders, down the slope of your back, and then up the front, working the cream into your neck, your collarbone, the tops of your shoulders, and then over the swell of your breasts. He massages them, kneading the tender flesh, rolling your nipples between his fingers, and when the lotion is rubbed in and your skin is soft and dewy, he leans down and wraps his lips around a nipple, sucking gently and pulling a soft gasp from your lips.

"Joel" you whimper, the feeling of his warm mouth on your sensitive skin and his rough beard scratching at your chest making your sore, aching pussy throb.

"Mmhmm, darlin'?"

"Kiss me"

He does as he’s told, his lips soft and gentle when they meet yours. It's nothing like the rough, frantic kisses from earlier, the bruising press of his lips against yours, the desperate clash of teeth. This time, it's a tender kiss, a brush of lips and a gentle caress. His lips are featherlight on yours, his breath sweet on your tongue, the taste of the peach tea he loves so much flooding your mouth, the flavor reminding you of the fading summer.

He pulls away and looks at you with the dopiest grin

"What?" you laugh.

"Nothin'" he replies, the smile still not fading.

"No, not nothing. What is it? Why are you smiling like that?"

"Just happy, darlin. Now pick somethin’ to watch.'"

Your cheeks heat and turn red, and you can't help the small smile that stretches across your lips or the giggle that escapes when he wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer. You're nestled into his side, his arm wrapped around you and his chin resting on top of your head. You grab the remote and click through all options. Joel groans from above you when you settle on your final choice.

"Moana? Again? That's like the third time this week."

You just giggle and snuggle up closer to him, your cheek smushed against his warm, bare chest as the opening scene starts to play.

"I love you" you whisper, your warm breath diffusing across his skin.

"Love you, too, baby."

You close your eyes, the warmth of his body and the steady beating of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the comforting feeling of being cradled against him lulling you to sleep. This is heaven, and you're sure of it.

sometimes I wonder if there's something seriously wrong with me. Then I realize that I'm just ovulating. Thank you for reading, lemme know if you enjoyed it hehehe I love you all soo much!!

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

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thoughtfulfiction · 1 month ago

Text

The Plague

Author’s note: This is another request that was sitting in my inbox for a year. Posting another new Justin fic after this but still working on rewrites so if you’d like me to work on an old fic to repost let me know!

On Friday, you woke up with a headache that felt like it came out of nowhere. Everything was foggy, like you were in a daze, and you couldn’t figure out why. The day before was relatively normal and nothing happened that would warrant this sudden bout of persistent and annoying pain. You hadn’t yelled or gotten too riled up the night before when the Chargers beat the Broncos in primetime. To be fair, Justin had made you sign a contract—yes, literally—with a pen, back when you were 16 weeks pregnant, before the season started. The contract, which was both ridiculous and endearing, essentially vowed you’d take it easy and not stress yourself out on game days. You couldn’t recall the exact wording, but you remembered something about calm, no exertion, and ease. Honestly, remembering things in general hasn't been your strong suit lately, pregnancy brain making it's appearance more frequently than you liked to admit. At 27 weeks pregnant though, you’d kept your end of the bargain—remaining cool and collected throughout the chaos of the game. So, this headache? Was just untimely and inconvenient.

Saturday morning, you woke up with a stuffy nose. Not ideal, especially after yesterday’s headache. You knew something was coming on, so you quickly decided that when the sniffles hit, you’d retreat to the guest room to spare Justin from catching whatever you had. The team was in the midst of defying all odds, on the road to a very successful season and solid playoff hopes in the first year of their rebuild and the last thing they needed was their starting quarterback coming down with a mysterious illness when they needed him most. You packed a bag with your essentials—clothes, toiletries, your phone charger, and laptop—anything to make you more comfortable while you isolated. As you made your way to the basement, you couldn’t help but be grateful for the full kitchen and fridge down there, greatly eliminating the trips upstairs you'd have to make and keeping Justin from constantly breathing your germ filled air.

The house felt so much quieter without him home, and as you cleaned feverishly, scrubbing surfaces and disinfecting everything in sight, you could feel your body protesting. But you couldn’t stop.

You woke up to your phone vibrating on the bed beside you, your hand weakly reaching for it. You didn’t even remember falling asleep.

“Hello?” Your voice was hoarse and rasping, worse than you thought it would be. Whatever bug was taking over your body was moving fast.

“Where are you?” Justin’s voice came through immediately, frantic. “I’ve been home for twenty minutes, calling your name like a crazy person. Thought something happened to you, I was ready to send out a search party.” He let out a breath, but there was no humor in it. Only worry, the kind that gnawed at him until he couldn’t focus on anything else.

You blinked, forcing yourself to stay awake, aware of how much energy it was taking just to stay alert. “I’m downstairs. Didn’t want you to catch whatever I’ve got, so I moved everything down here. Believe me, you don’t want this.”

Justin didn’t hesitate. “Gimme a second. I’m coming down.” His voice was firm, but the urgency behind it was undeniable.

Less than 15 minutes later, the door creaked open, and Justin poked his head in, his eyes immediately scanning the room before landing on you. His face was a mixture of concern and something else—fear, maybe.

“Babe…” His voice softened, and his eyes darted over your flushed face. “…You look—”

The look you gave him could melt diamonds. “Do not finish that sentence.”

Justin held up both hands in surrender, but his gaze lingered on you a moment too long, worry still clear in his eyes. He stepped fully into the room and reached out to touch your forehead, his palm warm against your clammy skin. “You’re burning up,” he murmured, the concern in his tone deepening.

“I changed the sheets on our bed. I tried to clean up a little bit too so you should be good in case I'm contagious,” you sniffle, forcing a weak smile, Justin frowning at you when the smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

He waves you off, standing next to you but maintaining a respectful distance. "You didn’t have to do that. Cleaning up is my job, remember?" His eyes scan your face, his concern obvious. "What hurts? Head? Throat? How’s your stomach?"

You hesitate when he reaches for your belly, having discovered that the baby readily responds to the sound of his voice. And he hasn't felt her kick since the morning and you want nothing more than to allow him to continue to bond with her, but you know it's not a good idea right now. "Justin, I'm sick. You can't touch me."

"I'm not touching you," he says, his tone almost comically serious. "I'm touching our baby."

You raise an eyebrow, your exhaustion making the sarcasm come out sharper than usual. "Our baby, who is currently living inside my body."

Justin sighs, retracting his hand as slowly as you've ever seen him move, although every inch he backs away causes him physical pain. "Fine, I'll try to keep my hands to myself. But you never answered my question."

You blink at him, confused. "What question?"

"What’s hurting?" he asks again, his voice softer now.

You sigh, the weight of the day pressing down on you. "Oh…everything? My head was hurting yesterday, but I didn’t think much of it. Then my nose got so stuffed up I couldn’t breathe, and now… I just hurt all over."

The man’s brow furrows deeply, concern etched into every line of his face. You can almost see the wheels turning in his mind as he processes everything. "Okay, here’s the plan: you rest. I’ll call the doctor and figure out what we need to do to get you feeling better. Deal?"

You nod, a yawn overtaking you before you can respond. Your body sinks deeper into the pillows, already surrendering to sleep.

Justin lingers for a moment, watching you with a mixture of worry and tenderness before quietly turning off the light. His footsteps retreat up the stairs, and you’re barely awake enough to register the soft click of the door closing behind him.

Dr. Shaw's number is dialed by the time he reaches the top step.

"Yeah she's running a fever, started with a headache and it's progressed since. She's clammy and achy everywhere and she's got a stuffy nose."

The doctor takes minute to take everything in, running though your symptoms in her head. "I won't know for sure until she comes in on Monday but it sounds like some kind of viral infection or the flu. Just make sure she's staying hydrated and getting lots of rest and I'll see you all first thing Monday morning."

He thanked the doctor and ended the call, dialing your mom's number as soon as he was done. Justin let her know the situation and that he needed her chicken noodle soup recipe, taking detailed notes along the way, hanging onto every word she said. When that was complete, he looked around the house and in the fridge before making a quick grocery list to figure out what you needed. The "quick" grocery trip ended up taking a couple hours because one stop turned into three. He looked at every pack of cough drops at CVS to check the ingredients list after googling "best cough drops for pregnant women" so that took some time. And then at Target he debated which fuzzy socks to get for about 20 minutes. As soon as he thought he was done he came up with something else that you might need and had to drive over to the next store to find it. After his latest stop he took a look in his trunk to examine the inventory, checking everything off the list before heading home.

The quarterback realized he may have gone overboard when he set all the bags on the counter but it was too late. And hopefully most of the stuff would come in handy until you were back to 100%. Justin could hear the shower running as he began to stock the downstairs kitchen with the new items. He bought fresh lemons, from Whole Foods no less, breaking a personal oath, for you to have in your tea. Whole Foods was usually way too pricey for him but since he found out the two of you were expecting, sparing no expense for you and the baby had become second nature. So he bought a bag of organic lemons for $6. The old Justin would’ve laughed at him—and probably teased him for buying a new electric kettle just so you wouldn’t have to wait for water to boil.

Yeah, he'd definitely gone overboard.

He shook his head at himself with a sigh, placing the cold compresses in the freezer. The cough drops, tissue boxes and the new humidifier were all lined up neatly in your new room for easy access. He even moved one of the side tables out from the living room and placed it by the door so he could have a hand sanitizer station in attempt to keep the germs at bay. Satisfied with his work, he headed back upstairs to gather the soup ingredients and jumped right in. This was his style of cooking. Give him a recipe to follow and he can execute it to perfection. The aroma filled the kitchen, and as he ladled the soup into a bowl and prepped crackers and peanut butter as a backup, pride swelled in his chest.

You knew he was downstairs as soon as you stepped out of the shower. It dawned on you pretty early on that everywhere Justin went he brought this calming, grounding energy with him. Even though you didn't feel the best, it brought you peace. Once you were dressed you stepped out of the bathroom and looked around at your newly elevated sleeping arrangements. You gave your belly a soothing pat, making small circles along your front where you were feeling her move. "Your dad is the best angel, I can't wait for you to meet him." Smiling to yourself, you grabbed the pair of fuzzy socks he laid out for you on the bed and put them on, already starting to feel better.

Justin heard the bedroom door open before he saw you. “Are you hungry, babe?” he called out, carefully arranging the tray. “I made soup.”

You rounded the corner, moving slower than usual, but the sight of in front of you brought a sense of relief. “Thank you for all this,” you said softly. “I don’t deserve you.”

Justin froze mid-step, the emotion in your watery eyes hitting him like a punch to the chest. He wanted nothing more than to scoop you into his arms, but for now, he kept his distance. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said, voice low but steady. “It’s my job to take care of you. Both of you.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you glanced at the room, noting all the little touches he’d added. “Alright, let’s get you eating. How’s your energy? You still look wiped.”

You tried to brush it off, but he wasn’t buying it. “Go lay down,” he said, nudging the tray closer. “I’ll bring this in to you.”

“Fine,” you relented, heading for the closet. You returned moments later with a box of masks and gloves, setting them down on the counter. “But you’re wearing these if you’re gonna be around me. No arguments, Justin. We can’t risk you getting sick too.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, knowing better than to push when you were in this state. “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a small smile.

Satisfied, you made your way back to the bed, the simple task draining what little energy you had left. Justin watched you go, already slipping on the gloves, his heart full despite his worry.

Turning on the main light was too intense for your headache, so you settled for the soft glow of the TV when Justin walked in, balancing a tray with more items than you could have imagined. He gently set it down on the side table, his movements careful but deliberate.

"I brought several options," he pointed at each item as he listed them. "You've got tea, your water bottle and some Gatorades—Dr. Shaw said the electrolytes will help you get some of your energy back so I brought you a couple. There's some lemon and honey for your tea and if you need more I can bring the whole kettle in here and plug it in. Oh, and—” he looked around the room, considering the space, “maybe I should grab another table? So you don’t run out of room. I could also bring some extra water just in case…”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, breaking through your headache. “I think I’m good for now, Justin. You’ve already managed to bring half the kitchen in here.” You rested your hands on your lower belly and added, “If I need anything, I’ll text you.”

He hesitated, his gaze flicking between you and the tray as if he hadn’t done enough. “Promise? If you need anything—anything at all—please don’t hesitate.”

The tension in his voice made you smile. Gesturing to the spot on the bed beside you, you said, “Come here.”

He perched carefully on the edge of the bed, holding out a gloved hand as you guided it to your belly. A strong, steady kick greeted him, and his breath hitched audibly. His eyes, crinkling above the mask, told you everything his covered face couldn’t: he was overwhelmed with joy. Tears glistened in his eyes, and you could practically feel his heart swelling with love.

You placed your hand over his, offering quiet reassurance. “She’s okay. And you’re doing great.”

For a moment, he simply sat there, soaking it in. Then, his shoulders relaxed slightly, his gaze meeting yours with a renewed determination.

“I promise you’ll be the first to know if I need anything,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

He nodded, his gloved hand still resting where the baby had kicked. “Good. Because I’ll be right here.”

While you were in a cycle of falling asleep, waking up to blow your nose, shifting uncomfortably in bed and soothing your throat with cough drops before eventually falling asleep again, Justin was eating dinner, his laptop open watching film on the Patriots. They were playing the Bills the next day which would be a good game to watch but he wanted to get a head start and breakdown how their defense is set up and figure out ways to exploit their weaknesses. Checking his phone periodically, he couldn't hear anything coming from the room so he allowed himself to focus for two hours, going through New England's previous games and jotting down a few notes. His mind began to wander after he was done because the team was leaving for the East Coast on Thursday. If you were still sick by then who was going to stay with you? He wrote himself a reminder in his phone to tackle that problem later in the week. Around 9pm Justin decided to turn in, checking on you one more time, turning his ringer on before heading across the hall in the closest room to yours to get some much needed rest.

The sound was faint, but eerily familiar. He flew out of bed, his body moving way faster than his mind could process, trying to get to you. Justin's steps faltered at the bathroom door, his breath catching as he took in the sight of you hunched over the toilet without a second thought about being too close.

He knelt beside you, one hand gently holding your hair, the other rubbing slow, steady circles on your back. “It’s okay,” he murmured, though his heart was racing. “I’m here.”

By the time you were done, his mask and gloves were a distant memory. He helped you stand, his grip firm but gentle as he guided you to the sink. “Here's this to rinse your mouth if you need to,” he said handing you the cup full of the only mouthwash that didn't make you feel nauseous, his voice low and soothing. He stayed close as you brushed your teeth and gargled, his hand never leaving your back.

Once you were back in bed, he stepped out briefly to wash his hands, grabbing a water bottle on his way back. “Do you think we need to head to the ER?” he asked, his voice tighter than he intended.

His worried voice breaks through the silence but you shake your head, basically becoming one with the comforter. "I actually feel a lot better now believe it or not, probably a mix of the congestion and everything else already going on in my body but now? I'm serious I actually do feel better. Just tired."

Justin sighs, his body finally relaxing as he's looking at you. He can tell that you're less uncomfortable and there's less tension in your features, which brings him a flicker of relief. "Here I thought the morning sickness days were behind us," he teased, his tone much lighter now.

“That was not morning sickness, that was war. I was literally fighting for my life," you quipped, a faint smile playing on your lips. "This? This is much more manageable. And temporary." You yawn, your body finally finding the ideal sleeping position you'd been searching for since you woke up feeling like you were underwater. In the most unexpected way, getting sick in the middle of the night felt like a reset and hopefully you were turning a corner. For the first time since the day began, you melted into the bed, looking so peaceful it almost hurt to watch.

Justin lingered, his hand brushing the doorframe as he debated staying longer. Leaving you alone felt wrong, but he knew you needed rest...and so did he. Still, as he crossed the hall to his room, he couldn’t shake the image of your calm, serene face. It was the only thing that made the distance bearable.

When he woke up the next morning without any signs of illness he was both surprised and relieved to still be healthy. And he kind of wanted to use this as an excuse to reduce some of the physical distance. Not wanting to push it, he texted you and asked if you wanted breakfast and you let him know you were in the mood for something light. He brought you a banana and a few pieces of buttered toast. “Promise me you’ll drink more water today,” he said, setting the tray down.

Throughout the day he went back and forth between morning games, continuing his New England film and periodically walking by to check in...every hour like clockwork. During your third bathroom break of the day you heard him walk by and asked him to come in.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s fine, I wasn't sleeping," you laugh a little, feeling more like yourself, "I knew you were coming by soon. The Bills-Patriots game is starting soon isn't it?"

"Yeah..." a smile forms on his face as he inches closer to the bed. "What if I watched it in here? You’re feeling better, right? I’ll keep my distance, I swear. We can, I don’t know… make a pillow wall or something?"

"Oh please, as if a pillow wall could stop you. Get over here." You haven't even finished your sentence and he's already making himself comfortable under the blankets.

His large hand found it's way to your bump, feeling her kick like she realized her dad is back where he belongs. “Hi, sweet girl,” he murmured, leaning down. “I missed you too. Soon as we get your mom feeling better, we’ll get back to normal, okay?”

"I think she's a fan of that plan," you laugh at her kicking and moving around like she agrees.

"Hey," he mock-scolded, "we're having a private conversation here. Do you mind?"

You laugh even harder as he peppers soft kisses to your rounded stomach. "I didn't realize how much this yesterday."

“Me too,” Justin admitted softly. “You scared me yesterday, you know? You looked so…”

“Like death?”

“Not funny.” He deadpanned, but his playful smirk gave him away. “I’m just glad you’re better.”

Before you could respond, Justin’s phone rang. Coach Day. He stared at it for a beat too long, visibly torn.

"It's okay, you should go. I'm not going anywhere."

Justin steps out of the room, the weight of real life staring at hitting him in the chest. This was just the beginning of having to balance being a dad and having a job that was not only demanding but a job that was his dream. He loved playing football and lived for it. The competition, the camaraderie with his teammates and the chance to win a Super Bowl is what every football player dreams of. And here he was struggling to pick up his phone because of what he was leaving behind. It had taken so long to commit to someone, to find that person to compromise for, and with you there was no debate. He was without a doubt a devoted husband who could compartmentalize like the best of them, at home he balanced work and your relationship. It had taken a lot of practice and some difficult conversations but now with a baby in the picture he wasn't sure about how to navigate this new territory. This unbelievable hold that his child already had on him was hard for him to put into words and the two of you hadn't even named her yet. He wasn't sure he wanted to compromise this much when she was born, not wanting to miss a moment of her growth and the thought of that made him feel like a failure already. Coach Day's words barely registered throughout the call as Justin went over all these scenarios in his mind. They'd just have to rehash this discussion during their meeting in the morning.

When he returned after the call, Justin’s face was a storm of emotions. "How are we gonna do this?"

"Babe? What do you mean? How are we gonna do what?" You sat up, extremely confused as to what could've happened on that call.

"How... how am I supposed to do this?" Justin ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room. "I mean, I’m gone half the time—meetings, film, travel—and then what? You’re here sick, or she’s sick, and I’m thousands of miles away—"

“Justin.” You grabbed his hand, pulling him to sit beside you. “Breathe. It’s okay. Look, I know what I signed up for. And you're going to be the most amazing dad in the world. She's already in love with you and doesn't even know what you look like, she's gonna love you even more. Honey don't worry about any of that okay? You literally dropped everything yesterday to nurse me back to health I think you can handle a few diaper changes. You might as well have a PhD in caring for people, it's like you're meant to be a dad. And everything else with work we will figure it out, we always do."

"You're right." His lips quirk up. "We make a pretty good team don't we?"

"The best. That's why we're adding another player soon."

Justin smiles, feeling less overwhelmed. "We should probably find a name for our new player at some point."

"I know...do you have any that you're feeling?"

He pulls out his phone with the baby name list that you've compiled the last few months. "What about Georgia?"

"Cute but I'm not really feeling it," you scroll, "Willow?"

Justin shakes his head, "Willow Herbert sounds kind of weird. And if we want to give her a nickname what are we supposed to call her? Will? That just doesn't sound right."

"Okay fair. Wait...I like this one," you point at the name in the middle of the screen.

Justin nods, finding the name interesting. "Remington. Remi. That's not bad. I kind of like it too. What does she think?" You grab his hand to place it along your rib cage, the baby had been relatively quiet the last few minutes but had decided to make herself known as soon as her parents started to go through names. "Remi, huh?" Justin’s grin widened as he felt the kick. His eyes softened, and he gently pressed his hand against your rib cage. "She approves. I mean, that was practically a yes, right?"

#justin herbert #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert x reader #justin herbert fanfic

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elliespassagerprincess · 1 year ago

Note

house wife reader x mean ellie 👀 ellie works long hours on the weekdays and takes out all of her anger on her docile wife who cooks all her meals, does all of her laundry, cleans the entire house, and make sure ellie’s satisfied 24/7.

Satisfied - (ellie williams x housewife reader)

hi anon! mean ellie? hell yeah. I hope you don't mind, but I added my own twist. I hope you enjoy <3

Pairing: mean ellie x housewife fem!reader

requests are open, feel free to leave one!

HUGE warnings: toxic relationships, murder, gore, violence

Summary: in which you were the perfect housewife

authors note: I'm literally trying to empty out my request inbox, so be ready because there's a bunch of fics coming your way!

"so when last have you seen her?" The police officer asked as he sat across you.

"well she went out yesterday and she never came back"

you saw him look at you and Ellie's house as he was taking notes.

"Any arguments?"

"No"

once again you saw the pen write something on some paper. You wanted to know what exactly he was writing about.

What was talking him so long? You wanted him to fucking leave.

"Thank you for answering these questions, we'll call if we need anything else" the officer said as he stood up.

"Thank you for your hard work! Do I need to walk you out?" You asked with smile

"no, I'll show myself out" was all he said as he walked towards the front door.

As soon as he was out of sight you got up and ran to window to check if he was gone. You watched his car pull out the driveway, and you let out a sigh of relief.

fucking finally.

You ran to you and Ellie's shared room, and between heavy breathes you said "she almost caught us baby".

You walked towards the bed, where Ellie's decomposing body lay. Flies circled her body, her skin was pale and cold to the touch.

You put some of her hair behind her ear "it's ok now, they'll never catch us" you whispered

You loved Ellie. And you would anything for you. Anything including quitting your job and becoming her housewife.

In the beginning you hated it, staying home, cooking, cleaning. But when Ellie praised you, you fucking loved it.

And soon after you became the stereotypical housewife. Cute outfits, aprons that matched whatever you wore. You always woke up before her, to prepare her favorite breakfast. You cooked her dinner.

You fucking did everything.

The two of you were happy. Until Ellie got a promotion. She got more work, the pressure was getting worse for the poor girl.

Ellie came home late and most nights she barley even slept. You tried supporting your wife as best you could. You tried cleaning the house before she came come. You did all her laundry, you even chose her outfits most days.

But it was never enough for her.

One night you cooked Ellie's favorite meal. A prideful smile was on your lips as you put the plate in front of her.

This would cheer her up. You knew it would.

Ellie glanced down at the plate, and she looked back at you. The dark circles under her eyes looked even darker than they did yesterday.

"You are so fucking pathetic" she started.

"I work all fucking day to come to this shit? And look, this table is dusty" she added.

Ellie got up from where she was sitting and she threw the plate filled with food onto the floor. "You have cleaning to do, and don't fucking serve this shit again" she walked out of the dining room and you sat there mouth agape.

This was the first time she's ever said anything like that to you. You sobbed in the kitchen that night. You felt sick to your stomach.

Everything you did was for Ellie and for the first time she wasn't satisfied with you.

Your main mission in life became to serve. To serve her. But what do you do when the one you did everything for, wasn't satisfied?

The next morning you woke up bright and early, and you cooked Ellie a widespread of breakfast. Fruit salad, bacon, eggs pancakes and so much more decorated the table.

You heard the bedroom door open and you saw her walk out, she glanced at the table

"I'm not hungry" was all she said and she walked out the front door.

You were shattered.

Since that day everything you did was wrong.

You couldn't clean right.

Her fingers ran along the cupboard, and she looked at you with a frown.

"Can you not clean right? Should i get a maid? Because you cant do shit"

you couldn't do the laundry right.

you stood in the doorway watching Ellie fit on her suit. She looked herself in the mirror before she made eye contact with you.

"It's still wrinkled and there's a stain" she pointed out.

"fix it" was all she said before she threw the clothes on the floor.

You couldn't even cook right.

Ellie only had one spoon of her food before she pushed her plate to the side

"what's wrong?" you asked

"this is disgusting"

it hurts. Every insult Ellie hurled at you hurt.

You knew she was stressed but it didn't give her the right to take her stress out on you.

One night you tried talking to Ellie. But she didn't want to. She didn't have energy for this.

"Don't you have a house to clean? Oh wait you can't even do that right" she said through a chuckle.

You snapped.

You let out a scream as you grabbed the lamp on your side of the bed. You jumped onto the bed, and you shit her over and over again.

"I"

*hit

"am"

*hit

"the perfect"

*hit

"housewife" you yelled.

Blood littered the walls, and your hands. Heavy breathes left your mouth as you looked at the scene.

"Oh Ellie I'm sorry! This room is filthy! I'll clean it"

you scrubbed the walls, you changed the bedding and you gave her a bath.

Everything was back to normal. It was all clean.

You looked at her decomposing body. She looked peaceful and she wasn't being mean anymore.

This was the girl you fell in love with.

You gave her a kiss on the forehead before you muttered "its time for breakfast" and you left the room to start making your girl breakfast.

You weren't sure how long you were going to get away with this, but for the time being you were happy.

She was better dead anyway.

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basicallyjeankirschtein · 1 month ago

Text

jjk men x streamer!reader smau

╰┈➤ Collab?

chapter 5

ೃ⁀➷ HATSUNE MIKU IS JN FORTNITE

* mentions of drug use, this chapter contains writing and pics, not proofread

masterlist. prev. next.

the next morning, you woke up with the worst headache known to man. the only symptom to benadryl you ever had was the hat man, since when was having a headache a symptom?

not only was someone fucking your brain doggy style, but you were trending on twitter. oh no. streaming with gojo was a mistake.

oh! you also have a text from choso, what a sweetheart.

oh god. that is not the text you thought you would be receiving. you thought he wanted to play roblox with you again… maybe you falling for ‘skibidi light’ in shrimp games turned him off. not that you could blame him, that was really stupid.

either way, what the hell was he talking about? is this why you were trending? oh my god, did you accidentally post your nudes????

you were too worried to realize his text was already left on read.

the moment you opened twitter and saw your inbox, you wanted to cry. no fucking way you were posting about THE HAT MAN. your friends were right, why couldn’t you be addicted to something normal like crack instead.

no wonder choso was texting you, that was really sweet of him, you thought. you’d have to send him a text telling him you’re fine once you’ve realize what’s been going on.

the hat man predicted miku would be in fortnite.. your friends made fun of you.. gojo said he would come over? well, clearly he didn’t, since you don’t see him anywhere. choso’s friends were making fun of you, choso was worried for you, hatsune miku is in fortnite…

wait.

HATSUNE MIKU IS IN FORTNITE????

AND HOW DID THE HAT MAN TELL YOU THIS BEFORE SHE WAS RELEASED?????????

was ‘wanna play fortnite’ a valid response to this? probably not, but people (especially hot people) calling you out for your stupid behavior always made you uncomfortable, so it’s time to switch up the topic.

choso didn’t seem to mind, as you received a video call from him not even a minute later.

and now, here you were on stream, ignoring whatever happened last night as you played fortnite with your new friend, choso!

he was a sweetheart, really. his voice alone could show that he was shy, and that made you feel better about your own shyness.

being on gojos stream really did help your confidence levels, though. you were terrified of everyone hating you, but you were met with quite the opposite! your self esteem has definitely been doing better, and it’s helped with your shyness a lot.

you hope you can help choso feel comfortable around you, too.

next chapter will be choso centric!! i love that boy. i think it’s so silly my favs are choso and nanami but it’s probably hard to tell that 💔everyone probably thinks i’m gojo or toji centric like NOOOO!! NOT THE FRAT BOYS NO

taglist

@estella-novella @ourfinalisation @definetlythinkimanalien @fuckisthatahotghost @m-0ona @sillybillylamb

@ayla-1605 @l-ilysm @randoperson22 @mentallyunpresent @poopooindamouf @1ennj4

@ex1acy @lunavelha @trsh-kitty @b3bybunny @onna-musha-mari @onlypickless

@moncher-ire @ieathairs @minzxec @marvellousdaisy @etsuniiru @kissprincess

@galactacium @ayumigotabitlonely @emlient @imoutofpot @des-todoroki

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the-witty-pen-name · 1 month ago

Text

The Love Triangle from Hell (5)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: Following the events of PART FOUR, you all begin to pick up the pieces and start to heal.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: kissing, messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing/name calling; arguments; crying; hurt/comfort; angst; miscommunication; jealousy; happy ending; fluff

A/N: We have made it to the final part of our story. I'm honestly sad to see it end- but it's not *really* over, is it? Again, everyone who has commented and reblogged- you are my muse. It was your kind words who kept me motivated. Thank you so much. You all are so amazing. Please, please, please don't hesitate to send me questions or requests- do you want to see more post-story drabbles, more angsty flashbacks, headcannons? Let me know and I will do my best to deliver. My inbox is open for requests.

Alternative ending coming soon!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Because Steve crashed at his parent’s house, he hadn’t been home to see that Eddie never came back last night. Instead, he woke up in his childhood bedroom after a night of tossing and turning. He wanted to call you- he picked up the phone and hung it up so many times last night. He knew you probably wouldn’t appreciate it, so he resolved to wait until morning. He hardly slept.

With tear stained cheeks, Steve knew he needed to get up and shower. After he was dressed for the day, he sat at the edge of his bed, staring at the wall. He didn’t know what to do, and he didn’t want to go home yet. He couldn’t face Eddie. He was so embarrassed and ashamed.

He needed to take a walk to clear his head. He ended up deciding to get coffee. There was a coffee place he walked to and after that, with 2 coffees and a bag of bagels in hand. He decided to stop by your apartment. You’d have coffee and bagels and talk this out. If you would let him, it would be his do over to make up for last night.

He walked up to your apartment two steps at a time balancing the coffee tray carefully with both hands to not spill. He lets himself take a moment. He smooths out the front of his jacket. And tousled his hair to look a little more presentable. He hopes you don’t slam the door in his face when he knocks. He stands up straighter when he hears the door unlock.

You open the door, but not all the way. You poke your head out from behind the partially open door. You’re still in your pajamas. A very old t-shirt that Steve has seen you in a million times before and flannel pajama pants- you look your best like this, Steve thinks. His brows furrowed in confusion when you step out onto the porch with a sweatshirt and don’t invite him in.

“I got you a coffee,” he offers, “a peace offering for last night.”

. I was being an asshole.”

“Listen, Steve..,” you begin. You cross your arms over your chest and look down at your feet. “I don’t know how to say this… Now isn’t the right time…”

“I’m sorry, I just thought we could talk in person,” he explains, “I just wanted to- you know, apologize in person.”

“I get it.”

“I- I just, look,” he says gathering his thoughts, “I didn’t handle any of this right- at all. I’m never going to be able to forgive myself for taking this long to realize my feelings, but…”

“Steve. Stop- listen,” you say anxiously, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “Before you go on, I need to tell you…”

“What is it?”

“Eddie stayed over last night.”

Oh.

“Oh…”

“Steve-”

“He’s still here, isn’t he?” Steve finally catches on. You hang your head, unable to look him in the eye. He blinks back the threat of tears. “Okay, um,” he clears his throat. “I’ll, uh, get out of here.”

“Steve- wait…”

“No, no it’s okay, really,” he tries to insist, trying his best to not break his cool. “Uh, anyways- take the coffee and stuff, anyways… I gotta go anyway.”

He’s down the stairs and down the block before you can stop him. You slip back inside. You leave the coffee and the paper bag on the table. You couldn’t touch them. You take a seat at the kitchen table, staring at them. Eddie was still asleep, easily slept through Steve’s knocking. It’s a few minutes of solitude, just lost in thought, before the front door opens with a whoosh.

“I’m surprised you’re up,” Robin marvels, kicking off her shoes. She hangs up her jacket, she’s wearing her same clothes as yesterday. You offer her a knowing smile.

“Yeah,” you agree. “You just missed Steve.”

“What does that mean?” she asked hesitantly. “Did you and Steve-”

“Nope,” you say, realizing now what that sounded like. You shake your head- you have so much to fill her in on. “Eddie’s here- and Steve showed up with coffee and bagel for me.”

“Wait. Wait. Wait,” she hurries over and takes the seat across from you- taking one of the coffees. “You slept with Eddie?”

“Eddie and I went to Lover’s Lake after the game-”

“Ew! Did you do it in the van?” Robin gasps.

“No!” You say embarrassed, “We were just there, and Steve followed us. He started banging on the side of the van and scared the shit out of me.”

“What did he say?”

“Get your fucking hands off my girl.” You watch Robin’s jaw drop.

“No, he didn’t!”

“He did! And he called me ‘baby.’”

“What happened after that?”

“Well, Eddie drove me home and I invited him to stay. It wasn’t like that at first. I just- you weren’t home and I didn’t want to be alone so I asked him to stay with me.”

“Sounds like it was that from the beginning,” Robin teases. “And Steve came here this morning to apologize and win you over and you had to tell him you slept with Eddie.”

“Pretty much,” you nod. “He’s still here.”

“Eddie’s still here?”

“Yeah, he’s asleep.”

“Holy shit, dude.”

“I know!”

“Explains that huge hickey,” she jokes and you swat her arm. “Was he.. Was he good?”

Your eyes widen, “Robin!”

“I don’t know what to ask!” She holds her arms up in surrender. “So are you and Eddie, like together?”

“We didn’t really talk about that yet.”

“He’s been in love with you since he was like 17,” Robin points out. “You think he’s going to not want to be with you?”

“No- it’s just, it’s all happened so fast. I just don’t want to ruin anything.”

“I’m gonna call Steve,” Robin says, “I want to check on him.” You nod in agreement.

“Yeah, that would be good,” you agree.

The door creaks open when you slip back into your bedroom. In your absence, Eddie has starfished out on his stomach and has taken up the whole mattress. In just his boxers, he snores very softly as the light from the window is starting to beam in through the panels of your blinds. You walk over to the side of the bed, crouching down to be eye level. You gently stir him awake.

Eddie can’t put into words how incredible a feeling it is that you are the first thing he sees when he wakes up. He smiles lazily with his face squished against the pillows. He reaches out and beckons for you to join him back in bed. He scoots over so you can have space to slide in next to him. The messy bed and the cozy blankets are so inviting, it would be just enough to help you forget about what’s waiting for you outside this little sanctuary.

“Come on,” he pouts, and you can’t help but concede. He pulls you into him, spooning you. He pulls the blankets over the two of you. You turn to face him, but he keeps his arm slung over your waist.

“Steve was just here,” you whisper.

“Are you okay?” he asks, concerned. The news of Steve’s visit wakes him up. You nod.

“Yes, it was just a hard conversation,” you volunteer. “He knows you stayed here last night.”

“How’d he take that?” Eddie asks.

“Um, I could tell he felt hurt,” you admit, “he brought me breakfast; wanted to apologize and try it over with me… I told him you were here, and he accepted it. He was clearly upset, but he didn’t take it out on me. He, um, looked devastated. But he just left after I told him.”

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie asks, sounding shy and suddenly unsure of himself.

“Of course,” you say encouragingly.

“What did last night mean? You know, like- where do we stand?” Eddie isn’t sure if he even wants to know the answer. He’s so worried you’re going to reject him- tell him last night was a mistake. He’s bracing himself for the heartache of losing you.

You trace your hand gently over the side of his face, helping move his hair away from his eyes. Is it even still a question? You can’t help but smile. It all makes sense.

“I love you, Eds,” you confess and it feels like the weight of the world lifts off his shoulders. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see that,” you apologize, but he’s too wrapped up, he doesn’t even care. He pulls you in for a kiss, slow and passionate. Everything feels right- finally.

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” he murmured against your lips.

Your senior year (Eddie’s second), Eddie finally convinced you to sneak out on a Tuesday night and come see Corroded Coffin play at The Hideout. Your parents would kill you if they knew you were at a bar forty-five minutes away past eleven on a school night to see some boy with long hair and tattoos play in his metal band. They wouldn’t care if you insisted he was just a friend. Thankfully, this is something they will never find out.

Eddie felt on top of the world that night. He played better than he ever has, because you were there to impress. He could watch you, as you sat comfortable at a table all to yourself, singing along to songs you had no idea where even about you. You cheered and clapped at the end of every song- not caring if you were the only one in the room to acknowledge them.

“Are you gonna ask her out tonight?” Jeff asks, covering his microphone between songs.

“I don’t know- maybe. Shut up,” Eddie flushes, petrified you would hear. You hadn’t- you were completely oblivious to the way you made him feel.

“If you don’t, I will!” Gareth whisper-shouts over his drum set. He laughs when Eddie turns around and flips him off. When he turns back around, you lamely throw him two thumbs up and grin widely. He mouths “Dweeb” to you across the bar and you stick your tongue out at him.

Eddie did attempt to ask you out that night. Unfortunately, he was so nervous when he did it, you didn’t realize he had meant for it to be a date. He still cringes at how he ended up paying for Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Max to play mini golf and how shocked he was when they ended up tagging along. When he thought it couldn’t have gotten worse, the rest of Hellfire showed up as well. Since when did he have this many friends? He remembered thinking.

Robin calls Steve a few times before she’s able to get through. She must have caught him right as he was getting home.

“Yeah?” He sounds irritated.

“Wow,” she says with a tisk. “Rude much?” She hears him take a breath.

“I’m sorry, long day,” he mumbles.

“It’s like 9:30,” Robin muses and he scoffs.

“So you know?” He asks.

“I know.”

“I’m a fucking douchebag!” Steve exclaims, upset with himself still- clearly. “I can’t blame her for wanting nothing to do with me.”

“You’re her oldest friend, Steve,” Robin points out, “She didn’t say she wanted nothing to do with you. She and everyone else I’m sure just everything to go back to normal.”

“Normal except she’s with Eddie and I have to be around that everyday.”

“Like how she was with you, for I don’t know- years! You’re being hypocritical. Don’t you think?”

“Did she say that she and Eddie are together?”

“Not explicitly,” she says hesitantly, “Come on, Steve. You gotta let it go.”

Steve flops down onto the couch and groans. He knows he’s being hypocritical- he knows he isn’t being fair. It doesn’t make the pain hurt any less. Something he couldn’t shake tugs at the back of his mind. You didn’t tell him you and Eddie were together, just that he stayed over. That doesn’t mean that you’re necessarily together. He knows he’s fooling himself. It’s so hard to just let it go.

“The whole thing is way too close to home,” Robin muses, “maybe expand your dating pool to outside your immediate friend group?”

“I just need to actually hear her say it,” Steve says, but in agreement with Robin. “I just won’t be able to let it go until I actually hear it from her that she has no feelings for me.”

“You’re a glutton for punishment,” Robin points out and he knows she’s right. “You need to figure out yourself. Do you actually love her? Or was it the idea of living her that you got so wrapped up in?”

“What are you talking about?”

“There’s a difference. Were you actually in love with your best friend, or were you just in love with the idea of having someone you love who knows you like a best friend? Like you’ve known her for so long, and you’ve never thought of her as more than a friend until very recently? It might make sense you were wrapped up in the idea of it all- than actually falling in love with her. Does that make sense?” She takes a long pause. “The romanticism of it all, being wrapped up in that- you know?”

“Maybe,” he concedes. “It would’ve been really great.”

“It would’ve,” Robin agrees. “But it wasn’t meant to be.”

“No?”

“No.”

When Eddie gets back to the apartment later, he doesn’t know what to expect. He doesn’t know if Steve will take a swing at him, if he’ll yell, or if he will even be there. He doesn’t know what to anticipate Steve’s reaction to be.

Surprised, Steve is sitting in their living room… calm. He looks solemn. He’s sitting on the same chair he sat the day of the huge fight. He’s staring at the spot where Nancy sat, and then his eyes move over to where you were. Eddie clears his throat to make himself known. Steve looks up like he’s been snapped out of a trance.

“I’m sorry, man,” Steve says, immediately. “I really fucked that up.”

“I don’t know- I get it,” Eddie sympathizes. “The whole situation is fucked.”

“Yeah, totally.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Steve drags his hands across his face. Eddie can tell he hardly slept. He looks exhausted. “I will get over it, I’m sure. I just need a little time to get my shit together. Get over myself, you know?” He jokes in a self-deprecating manner. Eddie offers a sympathetic smile, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. They both know they’ll be fine in time.

The next morning, you’re at their apartment door first thing with coffee in hand.

“Do-over?” You ask with a tilt of your head when Steve opens the door.

“Do-over,” he offers a half smile, taking one of the to-go cups from your hand.

“Eddie’s left for work already?” You guess and he nods. You stand in the door frame, face to face in a few long moments of silence.

“I really miss my best friend,” you say finally.

“Do you still even want to be friends after all of this?” Steve asks, stepping aside so you can come in.

“Steve,” you say with a deep breath. “I always want you to be in my life. You are my oldest friend and I hate that everything has blown up the way it has. I know we can’t go back to the way everything was before. We can move past this, together, can’t we?”

“I really missed you too,” he admits. “I talked to Robin- I think she was right about a lot of things. You and Eddie- you guys are my best friends. I can’t stand in the way of you too. I think like how I was so hung up on Nancy- I was idealizing her; remembering just the good parts. I know I would’ve been so happy to end up with you. But I think I was more in love with an idea.”

“I get that. I think I’m guilty of that myself,” you chuckle, thinking back to the many years you held Steve up on a pedestal. He smiles back at you- a wide, all encompassing Steve Harrington smile. You had him back. “So, we’re going to be okay?” you ask, a smile creeping onto your lips.

“We’re okay,” he reaffirms.

A few months later, following the truce with Steve, everyone is piled into Steve and Eddie’s living room. A movie is playing you’ve all long since forgotten about. Nancy and Jonathan sit in the love seat, his arm around her as they watch amused as Steve and Robin argue- both of them standing on opposite ends of the coffee table as they debate the logistics of whether or not it’s pronounced “Duh-MEE” or “Dem-EE” Moore. Neither one of them plans to back down anytime soon.

Vicky watches from her seat in the recliner like a tennis match, her eyes bouncing between her girlfriend and Steve- enough to give herself whiplash. This was not how she expected her first movie night with Robin’s friends to go- but what else would she expect besides utter chaos.

“I thought something was gonna be catching on fire,” Eddie whispers in your ear. “This is boring,” he says in reference to the movie.

His arms sit loosely around your waist as you sit on his lap. Your legs lay across his lap, resting your head on his shoulder as you sit together in the chair opposite Vicky. You can’t help but laugh at his commentary.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen, hun,” you say with a smile, offering condolences for his disappointment in the movie.

“You’re a moron if you think it’s Dem-EE,” Robin shouts, losing her patience with each passing second. “Everyone knows it’s Duh-MEE!”

“Robin- I swear to god! It’s Dem-EE- it would be spelled differently if it was Duh-MEE,” Steve argues.

“It’s French!” Robin yells, exasperated, ready to pull out her hair. She couldn’t believe that he’s still pushing this issue.

Eddie runs his hand up and down your leg as he tries to act remotely interested in the movie. He knows you like it, so he’s trying his hardest to pay attention despite the distractions- Robin & Steve’s antics sure, but more so, sitting so close to you. He can smell your shampoo and your skin is so smooth when he touches it. It’s hard to not be consumed but the sensation. He squeezes your hip, and kisses your temple.

Eddie loves the simple touches. It’s the things he thought about for so long. It’s so easy. The things he always wanted to say to you, everything he wanted to do are just habitual now. He can grab your hand and kiss the back whenever he gets the urge. He can tell you he loves you randomly whenever he pleases. He can kiss you- kiss you everywhere. He wishes he could go back and tell himself that he got the girl- that she loves him just as much. Tell him it’s better than he ever imagined it.

The dust has settled. The worst of it all seems to be behind you all. Steve has a date lined up for tomorrow night and it seems he’s finally been able to let the idea of you go. Maybe, you’ll always be the one that got away, but he knows he’ll find the person he was always meant to be with. He has a really good feeling about the girl he’s seeing tomorrow.

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! Please let me know if you liked it. I decided on doing a follow-up story (maybe 3 parts?) focusing on this Steve and an another reader insert! Hopefully that's not too confusing lol It's going to focus on Steve meeting someone new, and falling for her. It can be read as a standalone or as a follow-up to this story. I'm going to do my best to have it out as soon as I can. Let me know if you like the idea or if it's too confusing.

TAGLIST: @sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt @moonlightsolo @kyga01 @sheisjoeschateau @melaninjhs @v3lv3tf0x @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @sunshine-mrk @danymunsonharrington @mrsjellymunson @fanficfantik

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bucketbueckers · 1 month ago

Text

I'D RATHER PRETEND

extra 1: proposal ‘a few years had gone and come around...you looked at me, got down on one knee’

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur @thelightknight21 wc: 4.7k notes: based on this request 🫡 sorry this took forever, i took a break from writing for a bit (writing 80k+ words over the course of a month alters your brain chemistry tbh). i was gonna link the proposal and the wedding together but decided to split them just so i could get something out for y'all! soooo trust that the wedding oneshot will be in the works soon and other slice of life snippets. if there's anything you wanna see, feel free to request! i'll get around to it when i have the time & my inbox is always open for yaps 🙂‍↕️as always i hope y'all enjoy!! 🫶

NOVEMBER 13, 2028

The first week of their postseason vacation couldn’t have gone any better. After a successful last year with the Sparks and the Wings respectively, Tess and Paige needed the time out of the country, away from basketball and other people. For four years, they’d spend up to six months away from each other training, playing, or travelling – it wasn’t much different from what they were used to in college, but they were nearing their five year anniversary and if Tess was being honest, she loathed only having Paige for half of the year. They planned to spend the first two full weeks of the offseason in Naples, Italy, where Tess had grown up – completely alone with plenty of time to relax after a grueling championship contending season.

So the first week was amazing. They flew in on a Monday, ordered room service and promptly fell asleep after dinner, far too jet lagged and exhausted after hours of travelling. On Tuesday, Paige treated her to breakfast in bed: delicate pastries and fruits and savory meats, then they toured an art museum – the Sansevero Chapel Museum. Tess was pretty sure Paige spent more time staring at her than the actual art they’d paid to look at, but she wasn’t going to complain. She enjoyed Paige’s attention more than she liked to admit. On Wednesday, Tess showed her around the inner workings of the city and the street she grew up on. Paige even met some of her extended family, such as her paternal grandparents and some other cousins. Tess’s family welcomed Paige in with open arms and made sure they stayed for lunch. They spent the rest of the day walking around the city hand-in-hand with Tess sharing childhood stories as Paige listened intently. On Thursday, they visited the San Carlo Theatre – coincidentally enough, they were performing an opera of Romeo and Juliet, which endlessly amused the both of them. On Friday, Paige decided she wanted to try every pizza place that Naples had to offer, and Tess didn’t really have the heart to say no to her. The weekend was spent lounging around, walking around the city some more, and visiting the beach, although they quickly gave up on that endeavor because it was entirely too cold.

Then the second week rolled around and Paige’s entire demeanor changed. When Tess woke up on Monday morning, shirt and underwear haphazardly thrown on after a long night, Paige was lying silently next to her, hands folded over her stomach. She was staring at the ceiling fan like it held the answers for whatever existential question she’d been pondering. Paige and silent were two things that never ended well when they were mixed together. The last time Paige had been eerily quiet had been after New Year’s in 2024 – that was a month of dread and panic that Tess never wanted to go back to, so she rolls onto her side, gazing at Paige.

“Do you ever think the trees are trying to communicate with us but we’re too dumb to understand them?” she asks seriously, watching five different expressions cross Paige’s face before she settles on amusement, laughing quietly.

Paige finally cranes her head over, her face softening when she locks eyes with Tess. Her hair is unruly, a mess from the night before, mascara flaking and her skin littered with marks. Tess is certain she’s never seen anyone more beautiful than Paige and she’s certain she never will. Even after almost five years together, Paige still makes her heart beat like she’s a teenager with a crush. “What happened to ‘good morning?’” she jokes.

“Not a good morning when I wake up and you’re social distancing,” Tess grumbles indignantly, pointing at the space in between them. “What happened to, I don’t know, ‘loving your girlfriend?’”

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Paige croons, her tone teasing. She rolls Tess onto her other side, curling an arm around her abdomen, her fingers lacing together with Tess’s over her navel. She rests her chin just above the crown of Tess’s head, sinking into the pillow. “Better?”

Tess hums, content, her hair raising at the feel of Paige’s skin against hers. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” she asks.

Paige huffs out something akin to shocked laughter. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“Paige, we’ve been together for almost five years,” Tess states. “You think I don’t know when something’s on your mind?” She twists the ring on Paige’s thumb as the blonde falls silent, thinking. “I don’t want you to ice me out,” she admits. “We said we wouldn’t do that. If there’s something wrong –”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Paige says quickly. She squeezes Tess’s hand, craning her head to press a gentle kiss on her temple. “Nothing’s wrong. Believe me. Everything’s perfect. Just…a big moment for us right now.”

“Free agency?” Tess asks, turning around in Paige’s embrace to face her fully after adjusting her arms. Paige’s face looks torn, uncertain – free agency has to be what’s weighing on her now, right? They’ve had this conversation numerous times, especially late at night after rough games when they’re missing each other and the distance feels like a burden. They’ve done this before, which is what Tess clings onto – they’ve been hundreds of miles apart in college but it’s so different now that they’re in the league and that they know their future is with one another.

“Free agency is up there,” Paige confesses after a while, frowning. “We don’t gotta talk about it right now. This is our vacation.”

“We say that every time,” Tess says softly, trying to start a conversation, not an argument. That’s been one of the biggest points of growth with Paige over the past few years. Tess is often too quick to jump to a conclusion, to get into her head about a situation or however Paige must feel about something. They’ve had these growing pains discussions numerous times, learning to be patient and trust each other more and more. Tess searches Paige’s features. “You and I both want to play ball. You know I don’t mind competing against you, but…I don’t like the distance, either. So, what do you want from whatever team you’re interested in?”

Paige hesitates, but Tess stares at her imploringly. “A younger team,” she says. “Lots of people are retiring. Stewie, BG, Sloot, Natasha. I wanna go to a team that’s gonna be together for a while, be a championship contender. I wanna be closer to you, too.”

“Okay,” Tess says, feeling slightly relieved – she and Paige are in agreement on that much. She wants longevity, a team that’s reliable, where she can settle down. She’s been stubborn on keeping up her apartment lease in LA just because she didn’t want to purchase anything permanent that wouldn’t have both hers and Paige’s name on it. “Do you have a team in mind?”

“I’ve talked to some people, yeah,” Paige says. “Have you?”

Tess nods. Paige’s thumb finds her jaw, tracing the skin there absentmindedly. “Say it on three?”

“On three,” Paige confirms. “One.”

Tess swallows. “Two.”

Together, they both say “Three,” and then –

“Valkyries,” they say at the exact same time.

The tension melts from Paige’s shoulders immediately as Tess breaks into peals of laughter. Paige shakes her head fondly, tucking her chin into the crook of Tess’s neck to hide the blush on her cheeks. “Okay. So we’ll sign with the Valkyries if they reach out to us during free agency.”

“Don’t think there’s gonna be an ‘if,’” Paige says quietly. “I talked to Azzi and she said Natalie was very interested in us. They recently got some crazy salary cap increase so I think their plan was to splurge on us, make it hard to say no. Pretty sure they also got Kiki and Ayoka to resign, so me, you, Azzi, Kiki, and Ayoka? Playoffs, easily.”

“Oh, so you think we’re starters?” Tess asks teasingly.

“You think they’re gonna drop a couple million on bench players?”

Tess shakes her head fondly, but presses her lips to Paige’s hairline, unable to keep the smile off her face. “I can’t believe we’ll be playing together next season,” she murmurs, feeling Paige tighten her arms around her waist. “After kicking your ass for nine straight years –”

“That is not what happened,” Paige interrupts, smushing her finger into Tess’s cheek. “2025? Ring a bell? UConn natty?”

“I recall a lot of things from that night but a natty was not one,” Tess states. “I remember you coming to my hotel room, and –”

Paige slides her hand across Tess’s mouth, shutting her up, but her eyes are slightly wide. “Don’t,” she says softly. The corner of her mouth twitches like she’s trying to hold back laughter. Tess rolls her eyes and she pushes Paige’s hand off of her. “Does this mean we gotta start apartment hunting now?”

Tess hums. “Maybe a house?” she suggests, watching Paige’s reaction carefully. As her words sink in, a smile grows unabashed on Paige’s face.

“You wanna buy a house with me?”

“Paige,” Tess says, a little indignant. “Duh?” Paige’s expression turns unbelievably tender, her smile softening. Tess quirks a grin of her own. “I’m thinking of something permanent, you know? Settle down, finally? Stay with the Valkyries until we’re, what – 40 something, Diana Taurasi style. Retire in the Bay. We’ll have our house, maybe four bed, couple baths. Us, maybe a kid or two, guest room for our friends. We’ll probably be coaching somewhere, collecting our rings when we’re old and washed up.” Tess swallows, realizing the gravity of what she’s just said. “I mean, if that’s something you’d be interested in.”

“Tess.”

“Hm?”

“Shut up.”

Before she can respond, Paige’s fingers are curling around her neck, pulling her in closer until their lips meet, and kissing her with a softness and a gentleness that hasn’t disappeared after so many years together. Tess can’t help but smile, feeling the promise, the agreement, that Paige presses against her. When she draws back, Paige’s smile is wide, her teeth showing and the corners of her eyes crinkling. “I want that with you,” Paige murmurs, just so that there’s absolutely no confusion. “Lemme put a ring on it before we start talking about kids, yeah?”

Tess narrows her eyes dramatically. “You need to hurry it up, then,” she says. “I won’t wait around forever.”

Paige lifts one of her hands, kissing her knuckles with a coy smile. “Trust me. Gonna make it worth your while, baby.”

Tess honestly should have known that she had another trick up her sleeve, but she was too lost in the moment to overthink her words. So she acquiesced, giving into the deep, lingering kiss that Paige pressed into her lips, letting herself sink further into their bed and reveling in the way Paige’s lips danced across her skin.

The rest of the week passed with little interruption or further weirdness. Paige did seem a little nervous at times, though the moment never lasted too long, so Tess didn’t think much of it. She and Paige continued to make the most of their time in Italy. They had a private couple’s painting event, where Paige, for whatever reason, painted the two of them as stick figures driving around in a basketball shaped car (she’s lucky that Tess is in love because otherwise…God help her). Paige booked them in with a renowned Italian chef who taught them how to make homemade pasta and various sauces, which went as well as one could expect – that is to say Tess was just endlessly distracted by the way the veins in Paige’s hands protruded as she kneaded the dough.

Then, on Friday the 17th – Tess’s birthday – Tess woke up to Paige’s lips on her face and an assortment of brunch food. They indulged for the better part of the morning, not leaving the bed until the afternoon until their spa appointment. Paige had declared that she “deserved to be pampered” and who was Tess to argue against that? The resort masseuse and the nail techs were incredible at their jobs and Tess left the appointment feeling incredibly refreshed. Her birthday dinner was at an upscale restaurant in the heart of the city and Paige gifted her another charm for her bracelet – this time in the shape of the Italian peninsula to remind her of their time here.

Saturday the 18th was different – there was a palpable shift in the air. She woke up a little past eleven in the morning, alone, which was concerning in and of itself because Paige is rarely awake before she is. Paige is a chore to get out of bed in the mornings and always has been. She’s the CEO of “five more minutes” or “come cuddle” which, Tess will admit, has only become more endearing over the years, but right now, all it does is worry Tess after the conversation they had earlier in the week about free agency.

She hardly has the time to overthink it too much because Paige is shuffling back into their room, sporting an insane case of bedhead and a slight smudge of toothpaste lingering on her bottom lip. The blonde grins at her, easing her nerves instantly, and she presses one knee into the bed as she leans over Tess’s body, planting a kiss onto her lips. “Good morning!” she chirps, which is the next indicator that something is up.

“Good morning,” Tess says, honestly a little confused. She wipes the foam off of Paige’s lip. “What’s gotten into you?” she asks suspiciously.

“What, I can’t be happy?” Paige raises a brow, leaning in to kiss her again. Tess stops her with a hand to her chest.

“Okay, now I know you’re being weird,” Tess states. “You woke up before me. You got out of bed and attempted to make yourself…somewhat presentable, when the first thing you do in the morning is beg to be the little spoon for a little while.” As she speaks, Tess smooths out the mess on Paige’s head, frowning slightly. “You’re too happy right now. And you keep trying to distract me. So, you’re plotting something. What’s going on?”

Paige huffs dramatically, leaning away from Tess. “Nothing’s wrong, ma, swear,” she vows. Tess narrows her eyes at her, studying her features closely, but all she can make out is an anxious earnestness and unequivocal love. Paige cups her cheek as she kisses her temple gently, moving her mouth to her ear to whisper, “Everything’s perfect right now. Trust me, okay? Just wanna make you happy.”

“You do,” Tess affirms. Paige’s words soften the tension in her shoulders. Maybe she is overthinking again, which isn’t unlike her. Paige has never given her any reason to doubt her words, not in the near five years they’ve been together. She owes it to Paige to have more faith in her, in them.

A smug look crosses across Paige’s features as she pokes Tess in the cheek obnoxiously. “I know.” Tess rolls her eyes fondly as Paige leaves the bed fully. “Now get dressed. This is our last day in Italy and we got shit to do. Can you do my hair?” Tess meets her eyes through the mirror, raising a brow slightly. “Please?” Paige adds.

“I’ll house train you one day,” Tess mumbles, though she knows Paige is basically a lost cause at this point. Her girlfriend smiles at her and all of her faux annoyance washes away in an instant as Tess presses a kiss to her cheek, beginning to work on her hair. Paige gives her free reign to work and Tess elects to leave Paige’s down in natural, loose waves. Then, they get dressed – Paige dons a baggy pair of black cargos with an oversized white sweater and matching white sneakers. She doesn’t forget her chain or the various rings on her fingers, which makes Tess contemplate telling her to cancel their reservations for wherever they’re going so they can spend the day in bed (again – but that’s no one’s business but their own). Tess herself dresses in white sneakers, a pair of light-wash blue jeans, and a patterned sweater that she’d stolen directly from Paige’s luggage – the very sweater that Tess claimed made Paige look like an art teacher.

Once they’re ready to go, Paige leads her hand-in-hand down the busy streets towards a restaurant. They indulge in a late lunch, cracking jokes, sharing stories and optimism for the future – Paige wants an outdoor court built at whatever house they’re buying (possibly the least surprising thing Tess has ever heard), and Tess’s only real complaint is that she doesn’t want to live in an obnoxiously huge mansion. As long as the house has what they need and they have their family, then there’s not much else that Tess wants.

After lunch, they arrive at a private pottery making class, which takes a good few hours out of their day. Paige looked absolutely silly with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and covered in clay, and Tess is sure that the only thing that stopped them from initiating an all-out clay war was the elderly woman who was carefully instructing them. Eventually, their creations start taking shape – a vase for Tess and a lopsided mug for Paige, and while they get fired in the kiln, the instructor talks them through the history of Italian pottery and ceramics.

Tess had thought the pottery class was their last stop on the day, but Paige had something else planned. “It’s a secret,” she claimed, but she seemed a little more nervous than she was earlier that day, which did little to quell Tess’s sudden anxiety until Paige pressed her lips to her knuckles. “Trust me.”

And so she did, allowing Paige to lead her down the streets once more in the fading daylight. The sky was lined with streaks of pinks, oranges, and a dimming yellow. Tess knows she says it a lot, but in this light, Paige looks absolutely radiant – the sharp lines of her face softened by the gentleness of the sky, the blush on her cheeks heightened by the chill in the air. Her palm was warm against Tess’s, rough in some places and smooth in others, but Tess loves every inch of Paige just the same.

Finally, the two of them stop in front of an unassuming door, one that Tess had never seen growing up here. Paige’s nerves seem to return tenfold as she pauses. Tess watches her face contort as if she’s battling some internal decision. She squeezes their linked hands, feeling the relief that exudes from Paige’s body, and the blonde smiles tentatively. “You first,” she states, resting her free hand over the door knob. Tess gives a confused, yet trusting nod, as Paige opens the door and ushers her inside.

The breath is all but sucked from her lungs as soon as she’s indoors. The lighting in the room is dim, but Tess can see nearly everything. The rose petals creating a path for them, the flickering of candles strewn about, but the part that truly captures her attention are the polaroids that hang from the ceiling on thin twine strings. The one closest to the entrance are incredibly new, selfies of the two of them from the week before, a picture of Tess and Paige swept up with Tess’s extended family. There’s a solo shot of Tess grinning at the camera for Paige, dolled up in her birthday dress and holding a glass of wine.

Paige doesn’t say anything – she doesn’t have to. She rests her palms over Tess’s hips as she guides the both of them forward, allowing Tess the time to properly look at all of the pictures. As they walk through the room, which Tess figures was an art gallery given the abstract paintings on the wall, the pictures get older and older. There’s a photo of the two of them from the WNBA finals, confetti sticking to their sweat-slick bodies as they embraced in the middle of the court. There’s a photo of them at the Olympics holding up their matching gold medals. There’s countless shots of them sharing the basketball court, as rivals, and part of Tess can’t help but get choked up because they’re not going to be rivals on the court after this vacation is said and done. After nine years, she finally gets to play with Paige, as teammates, and she’s not sure if there’s anything in the world that could possibly top that feeling.

Their WNBA memories filter out, leading to their college ones. There’s one of the two of them from the national championship, displaying the two of them staring at each other – Tess on one side of an half-empty court, Paige on the other swarmed by her teammates. The pride reflected on Tess’s face is evident in the photo. There’s a bunch of other memories, their February game, holidays celebrated with each other, their summer of 2024 world tour, and photographs of them from when they were “pretending.” Tess spots herself perched on Paige’s lap during the first Thanksgiving she spent with the extended Bueckers family, arguing over Fortnite with Paige as Paige’s siblings watched on in amusement. There’s countless FaceTime screenshots, back when the two of them were truly getting to know each other, selfies from their Bose trip that changed everything, and finally, as they’re nearing the end, the photographs melt into their initial soft launch photos, that damned coffee shop and Paige’s less than subtle appearance. But the last photo isn’t like the others. The rose petal path has led them to the back end of the art gallery, still illuminated by the soft lighting. The last photo is framed. It’s of the two of them shaking hands after the first game they played against each other on February 8, 2021. That date has stuck with Tess for a while now. If you’d told her younger self in 2021 that she’d be here, now, with Paige Bueckers, she wouldn’t believe you. But now? She can’t think of anything more fitting, more obvious than her and Paige.

With tears brimming her eyes and wrought with nostalgia and gratefulness, Tess turns to meet Paige’s gaze, but she’s already looking at her. She always is. Paige looks extremely nervous, but there’s a spark of determination that Tess knows all too well.

“We met almost eight years ago,” Paige states, her voice soft as her shaky hands reach out for Tess’s. “In Gampel. We played against each other and I learned so much from you – I just didn’t have the courage to talk to you, and I regretted that for months. Then, two years after that, in May of 2023, God sent you to me again. It was awkward, and unconventional, and I thought you didn’t like me –” the two of them share a watery laugh, “–but I knew I had to make the most of it. Of us. I wasn’t gonna let you get away from me, not again. So we fake dated. I just wanted you in any way you’d have me. I was happy to just be your friend. But as time went by, I fell for you, and…” Paige smiles at her. “I was scared at first, but part of me knew it was gonna happen. You’re a competitor, you’re stubborn, and the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known. You get me, always have, and me falling in love with you was real. We’re real. I’m so thankful for what we have, for you, and knowing that we’ll be playing together next season is everything I’ve wanted for nearly eight years. I can’t wait to do this with you. I can’t wait to build a life with you. On New Year’s Eve in 2023, I told you my resolution was building something permanent. I’ve kept that promise, but I’m gonna amend that to say my resolution is to build something permanent with you.”

Paige releases her hands, exhaling, and Tess almost chokes on a sob when Paige carefully drops down to one knee, her hands reaching into her pocket to produce a small ring box. Her hands shake as she opens the top, revealing the gold engagement band and a stunning, sparkling diamond, minimalist yet beautiful in the way Tess prefers her jewelry. But the ring doesn’t hold her attention for too long. She gazes down at Paige, at the tears beading at her waterline, the clear anticipation and nervousness and unfiltered love in her eyes. Tess watches a soft smile spread across Paige’s face as she finally asks the question she’s been waiting to hear for years. “Tess Kennedy, will you make me the happiest woman in the world and marry me?”

Tess doesn’t even have to think about it. She sinks down across from Paige, throwing her arms around her neck and pulling her in for a bone-crushing hug. “Oh my fucking God,” she murmurs, not even feelingly slightly ashamed as she soaks Paige’s sweater with her tears. Paige wraps her arms around her middle, pulling her close tightly as she laughs.

“So is that a yes?”

“Yes, Paige,” she stresses, barely resisting an eye roll when Paige’s face lights up, simultaneously melting with relief. “I told you I wanted to marry you almost four years ago. You really thought my answer was gonna change?”

Paige huffs, amused, as she slides the ring onto Tess’s finger. The candlelight reflects beautifully off it. The ring is gorgeous but Tess can’t keep her eyes off of Paige, whose eyes shine with tears and gratitude. “Just wanted to hear you say it.” Her tone is gentle but also a little smug. “Tess Kennedy wants to marry me,” she sing-songs.

Tess rolls her eyes fully as she and Paige stand up. “You literally got down on one knee and asked, you jerk,” she retorts, reaching up to cup Paige’s cheek and brushing away one of her tears. Her voice is soft despite her words, which makes Paige laugh as she grabs Tess by her wrist and presses a kiss to her open palm, her smile bright and fully enamored. Then, a realization dawns on Tess and she groans, pressing her forehead into Paige’s shoulder. “Oh my God. Is this what you were so nervous about last week? Not free agency?”

Paige laughs, a sound straight from the belly as she wraps her arms around Tess’s shoulders. “I didn’t lie. I was a little nervous about free agency, but I was a lot more nervous for this. Knew you’d say yes – you’re in love with me and shit –”

“And shit?” Tess asks, shaking her head.

Paige nudges her. “Just wanted to make it perfect for you,” she admits, all teasing gone from her tone. “Told you I had to make it worth your while.”

“It was perfect,” Tess says honestly. “You could have asked me anywhere, anytime, and I would say yes. I love you. But I did really like the pictures.”

Paige pulls back to grin at her. “Thought you would,” she murmurs, leaning down to kiss her gently. “I love you, too. Is it too early to call you Mrs. Bueckers?”

Tess pushes her away with a hand to her chest, affronted. “For the record, we’re hyphenating,” she declares. “Mrs. and Mrs. Bueckers-Kennedy.”

“Might not fit on the jerseys,” Paige goads.

“We’re gonna win the Valkyries a couple of championships,” Tess says. “They’re going to have so much money they’ll figure out how to get our names together on the jerseys.”

Paige smiles again. “That works for me,” she says, softer this time. She presses her lips to Tess’s again, pulling her flush against her body, enveloping her in a warmth she’s content to feel for the rest of her life. Tess grins against her, but Paige responds with a smile of her own, not minding, only holding her tighter.

She doesn’t know how to explain it – this overwhelming happiness. She’s engaged – oh my God, she’s fucking engaged; her parents are going to lose their mind – and she has everything she’s ever wanted. That much was true years ago when she had her natty wins and her girlfriend, but now? She has her fiance and the promise of a future together, on the same team, in the same house in the Bay, and all she really knows is that she can’t wait to walk down that aisle whenever the time comes.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x oc #uconn wbb #uconn

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grapejuicebrat · 22 days ago

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between us - d.s. p.2

The internal conflict Drew faces as his feelings for Y/N intensify, but the fear of their age difference holds him back.

warnings: age gap, emotional conflict, unspoken tension, angst, fluff, themes of loneliness and isolation.

word count: 1,680

notes: let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! also put some requests in my inbox cause i’m so so so bored.

series masterlist

my masterlist

———

The following morning, Drew woke up with the weight of you still lingering on his chest. The air in his apartment felt heavy, his usual routine feeling out of sync. It wasn’t just the coffee he’d missed; it was the quiet familiarity of you sitting by the window, your smile soft, your voice lingering in his mind. He didn’t want to admit how much power you had over him already, how effortlessly you’d slipped into his thoughts and made yourself at home there.

He paced his living room, running his hands through his hair as he tried to reason with himself.

“She’s 18,” he muttered, the words slicing through the silence. “You’re 30. You should know better.”

But knowing better didn’t stop the way his heart beat faster every time he thought about you. It didn’t stop him from wondering what it would feel like to sit across from you, not just as two strangers sharing the same café space, but as two people who might mean something to each other.

And that terrified him.

The day dragged on, and by the time Drew returned to the café, he was almost hoping you wouldn’t be there. Almost.

But you were.

Sitting in your usual spot by the window, your head bent over your notebook, completely absorbed. The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow around you, making you look like a painting come to life. Drew hesitated at the door, his hand hovering over the handle. He could turn around now, leave before you noticed him.

But then you looked up.

Your eyes lit up when you saw him, a small smile tugging at your lips. You raised a hand in a casual wave, and Drew felt his resolve crumble.

He stepped inside, his heart pounding, and ordered his usual black coffee. As he stood at the counter, he felt your gaze on him, warm and inviting, and he knew he wouldn’t make it out of here without talking to you.

“Hey, stranger,” you said when he approached your table, your voice light and teasing.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice lower, more hesitant.

You gestured to the seat across from you. “Want to join me? Unless you’re busy being a brooding movie star somewhere else.”

Drew chuckled despite himself. “Brooding movie star? That’s a new one.”

“Well, you kind of give off the vibe,” you teased, leaning back in your chair. “Mysterious, quiet, always lost in thought.”

Drew sank into the seat, his coffee warming his hands as he tried to think of a response. You made him feel off-balance in the best way, like he didn’t have to wear the carefully crafted mask he showed the rest of the world. But that only made this harder.

“What are you writing?” he asked, nodding toward your notebook, desperate to steer the conversation away from himself.

You shrugged, closing it and resting your hand on top. “Nothing interesting. Just… thoughts.”

“Thoughts about what?” he pressed, leaning forward slightly.

You hesitated, your cheeks flushing. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I doubt that.”

You bit your lip, glancing at him before sighing. “Fine. It’s about people. How they interact, why they do the things they do. I guess I’m trying to make sense of the world.”

Drew smiled, his chest tightening at the earnestness in your voice. “That’s not embarrassing. That’s… insightful.”

“Thanks,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his. “What about you? What do you think about when you’re not being broody?”

Drew laughed, the sound a little bitter. “I think about how to keep the world at arm’s length.”

Your brows furrowed. “That sounds lonely.”

“Maybe it is,” he admitted, the honesty surprising even himself. “But it’s easier that way.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, just studied him with a quiet intensity that made him squirm. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Keep the world at arm’s length.” Your voice was soft but firm, as if you were daring him to believe you. “You don’t have to go through life alone.”

Drew swallowed hard, your words hitting closer to home than he wanted to admit. He wanted to believe you, wanted to let himself imagine a world where he could be honest about how he felt, where he didn’t have to keep everything locked away. But then reality came crashing back in.

You were 18. Just starting your life. You deserved someone who could give you the world, not someone who was still figuring out his own place in it.

He stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. “I should go.”

Your face fell, confusion flickering across your features. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” he said quickly, forcing a smile. “It’s not you. I just—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

Before you could respond, he turned and left, the weight of his decision pressing down on him with every step.

———

That night, Drew lay awake, staring at the ceiling as your words replayed in his mind.

“You don’t have to go through life alone.”

He wanted to believe that. God, he wanted to. But the fear of what could happen if he let himself care about you—really care—was too much. What would people say? What would you think if you realized how flawed he truly was?

But the worst part was knowing that he couldn’t stay away from you. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he told himself it was for the best, he knew he’d end up back at that café. Because you weren’t just someone to him anymore. You were becoming something more, and that scared him more than anything.

———

The next time Drew saw you, it was raining. You were sitting by the window again, but this time, your notebook was closed, and you were staring out at the storm, your expression distant.

Drew hesitated at the door, his hand gripping the handle tightly. He could turn around now, walk away before you saw him. But then your eyes met his, and the small smile you gave him sent a warmth through his chest that he couldn’t ignore.

He walked in, his steps slow and measured, and before he knew it, he was standing at your table.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, his voice quiet.

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his. And then you nodded. “Go ahead.”

As he sat down, the tension between you was palpable. Neither of you spoke at first, the silence stretching out as the rain pattered against the window. But then you broke it.

“I thought I scared you off,” you said, your voice soft but laced with vulnerability.

Drew shook his head, his heart clenching at the thought. “You didn’t scare me off.”

“Then why did you leave?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “Because I’m an idiot.”

You smiled at that, the tension easing slightly. “You’re not an idiot.”

“I am,” he insisted, his voice firm. “Because I keep trying to convince myself that this… that us… isn’t a good idea.”

“And why isn’t it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Drew stared at you, his chest tightening as he searched for an answer. But the truth was, he didn’t have one. All he knew was that being around you felt like the most natural thing in the world, and he was tired of fighting it.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I don’t know anymore.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the rain filling the silence. And then you reached across the table, your fingers brushing against his. The touch was light, tentative, but it was enough to send a jolt through him.

“You don’t have to know everything right now,” you said, your voice steady. “But maybe… maybe we could figure it out together.”

Drew stared at your hand, his heart pounding. And for the first time in a long time, he let himself hope.

taglist: @mauveliz

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe outer banks #drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew x reader

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gottaluvharry · 1 year ago

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family

carlos sainz jr x pregnant!reader

summary: your son has a few questions about why his little sister is in your belly, and carlos is happy to explain

———————————

Lazy mornings with your little family were your favorite. You smiled to yourself as you woke to the hushed whispers of your husband and your son. As you turn to face the other side of the bed, you’re met with 2 pairs of brown puppy dog eyes and 2 identical smiles.

“Buenos dias, mama!” good morning mom your son screeched, proud of himself for using Spanish. “Buenos dias baby” you say through a smile. He latches on to your neck and you feel Carlos’ hand rubbing patterns on your stomach. “Morning hermosa” beautiful he says going in for a kiss. “How is little girl?” he asks. “Sleeping I think. She must be tired after all the kicking she did last night” you groan, recalling the many hours you were woken due to the relentless kicking in your stomach. “lo lamento, se amable con mami” i’m sorry, be nice to mommy he says leaning to talk to his unborn daughter. You just laugh and shake your head at the pout he has on his face, guiding him up by his chin to give him another kiss.

“Papa,” your little boy starts, breaking you and Carlos apart. “How did baby get in mommy’s belly?” he asks as he puts his hand over Carlos’ on your stomach. “Well hijo” son Carlos starts. “Me and mommy love each other, and we made your sister together because we love each other” he says, hoping it’s enough to settle your sons curiosity. “Like when you and mommy make pancakes together?” he asks, now moving to sit in his fathers lap. “No, not like when we make pancakes” he laughs. “He is just made out of love, baby. When 2 people love each other so much and want a little baby like you, they will make one. That’s all I can tell you” he says, avoiding a heavier subject. “But mommy, did it hurt when baby went in your tummy?” he now turns to you with fear in his eyes over the thought of you hurting. “No buddy it didn’t hurt” you assure him, ruffling his hair; but you don’t miss the smirk Carlos sends your way remembering the night in question. “So why does baby stay in mommy’s belly for so long?” he asks, now turning to look at Carlos for the answer. “That’s just where they grow buddy. Babies need lots of space to grow and the only place there is enough room is in a mommy’s tummy” he responds. “Oh” he hums, taking in all the information he’s learning. “But how does baby come out?” he goes on, his eyes lighting up when he gets another question. “When he is ready to come out me and Mommy will go to the hospital and the doctors will help her come out” Carlos answers. “But does it hurt?” your son asks, once again scared of you being hurt. “Only a little bit” you say, “but it is worth it because then we get to hold your little sister”.

As your son continues asking questions and Carlos continues tracing patterns across your stomach, you can’t help but smile at the little life you’ve created. Who knew one bed could hold so much love on a random morning.

—————————————

hope you guys enjoyed this short little blurb:) sorry it’s been so long since i’ve posted, there was a lot going on and then i started school but in honor of Carlos’ birthday AND pole today i figured i’d post something!! might clear my drafts out and post some more in the next week or so<3

also my inbox is open, so request anything if you have any ideas! or if you just want to talk to someone, feel free!

okay last thing, thank you all for the support, it’s so special to me to have people with the same interests reading and liking my work, i want to give you all hugs<333

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sugrhigh · 11 months ago

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BOY NEXT DOOR 6 - ( c.s )

part five

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- cursing, angst (i think that’s it??)

a/n: sorry for the long wait you guys i truly hope you enjoy!! if you have recs or anything you want to see fulfilled my inbox is open, it usually takes me a second but i promise ill get to them!

@fawnchives @teapartyprincess4two @l9vesick @55sturn @mattinside @sturnioloco @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @breeloveschris @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @beijhe @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @braindead4l @hearts4matty @orangeypepsi @angelworldspost @ponyosturniolo @cupidsword @rainydayenthusiast @sturnvvz @wurlibydominicfike @poopydroopt @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner @rubyjanexxx @reallykaz @sturnlvrs @neatcarrot767 @stonermattsgf @kirby0strombolli @bunnysturns @junnniiieee07 @hrt-attack @sturnssmuts @stunza @beccaluvschris @asturniolos @slutz4sturniolos @mattslolita @neatcarrot767

you wake up to the sun shining in your eyes, the glare from the window hitting you dead on. you sigh and roll over to your other side to avoid the annoying light. the beginning of a headache is already creeping on even though you just woke up, which frustrates you even further.

you rub your face and blink a few times to clear your sleepy vision, and then it hits you; you’re still in chris’s bed.

the sinful events of the night come flashing back all at once, and you can feel the nausea settling down in your stomach. chris himself is nowhere to be found, and his side of the mattress is cold.

the sudden urge to throw up is overwhelming. you didn’t plan on spending the night, but you were both exhausted, and the rising and falling of his chest against your back had lulled you to sleep.

you’re still naked, covered only by his soft sheets, and a wave of embarrassment and guilt washes over your body. for a split second you had believed it was just a dream, but it’s all too real.

you throw the covers off carelessly, scrambling to grab your discarded clothes from the night before. you throw them on, not even worried about the fact that they’re all crumpled. you just need to get out.

the door to his room whines as you open it, which makes you cringe. so much for moving around undetected. to make matters even worse, the stairs creak as you descend them, which gives away your exact location.

“morning sleepyhead.”

you hear his voice before you see him, and the sound of it makes you freeze in the hallway. you turn from the front door to face him, forcing yourself to look up from your feet.

chris is standing only a few paces away near the entrance to the kitchen, dressed in dangerously low-hanging sweats, hair messy from sleep. he’s got two plates of breakfast balanced in either hand, like some sort of dreamy nightmare.

for once, you’re certain that he doesn’t know what else to say. he’s just looking at you like he’s waiting for you to speak, waiting for you to be the one to break the tension.

“i have to go home.” you respond meekly, unable to say it with any sort of conviction.

“why are you in such a rush?” he frowns.

“because i have class soon, not to mention i didn’t come back last night and i have nothing to say to my very worried roommates.” your voice is strained, mainly because you’re trying so hard not to scream.

chris raises an accusatory eyebrow. “i really don’t think they would mind if you stayed for breakfast.”

“i need to leave, chris.” you argue, though you don’t make any kind of movement for the door.

he stares back at you defiantly. god, he’s too fucking pretty. it always distracts you when he looks at you this way, with those steely eyes.

“you regret it.”

the sudden claim makes you lose your breath, and you have no idea what to say in return. do you regret it? you don’t even know, but he seems to take your silence as confirmation either way.

“go ahead and leave, then. see if i care.” chris replies sharply, shifting to toss one of the plates of food into the trash.

you hear it thunk against the bottom of the can, and even though you can’t see it happening around the corner, it still kind of breaks your heart. he looks back up at you, his face grim, and you know that any bond you had before has been broken.

“chris—”

“just get the fuck out.” he interrupts, and despite the harsh words, he sounds defeated in tone.

his expression is dark, but it’s not the same kind of darkness you had seen last night. that was lust. this is something entirely different.

you can’t stand to look at him any longer, so you don’t. you just shake your head slightly, turning on your heel and heading out the door. it slams closed behind you, and your vision blurs as you walk down his steps toward your own place.

the fact that tears are stinging your eyes is fucking pathetic, and you hate it. you did the one thing you swore you’d never do; sleep with the enemy.

and the sad part is that you really aren’t remorseful. chris made you feel things last night that you had never felt before, physically and emotionally, and you’ll never be able to look at him the same knowing that.

it worries you. before this you were friends, or maybe the right word would be rivals. either way, you enjoyed it.

but now you’ve entered the gray area; you already know he doesn’t want a relationship, and you’re scared of the possibility of catching real feelings if you keep sleeping together.

you don’t want to mess anything up, even though it feels like you already have.

you yank at a strand of your hair anxiously, and your head is in a million different places as you burst through your own front door. your legs don’t even feel as though they’re actually attached to your body. you’re like a ghost, floating up to your room in search of a safe space.

you close the door behind you gently, pressing your back and palms against the wood. your curtains are closed, which at first you’re very thankful for.

millions of times you’ve used these slips of fabric to hide from chris, and you’re doing it again now. it makes you feel like a coward, so you spring forward and rip them open.

to your surprise, his blinds are closed now. there’s a pang in your chest, because you know it means a lot more than the average person would think. he almost never closes them, ever. it makes you feel even worse. you want to scream, to truly cry, to do anything at all.

but nothing happens.

instead you fall back onto your bed, curling into yourself fetal style, arms wrapped around your knees. you close your eyes, willing yourself to fall asleep, and eventually you drift off into weightlessness.

your ill feeling doesn’t subside for days. you find it hard to eat, hard to do anything really besides sleep and go to class.

chris doesn’t send you his usual daily texts. you know he’s not going to, but every time your phone buzzes you still hope it’s him.

his blinds stay closed too, which is almost worse. you keep your window exposed though, on the off chance that he’ll open his again.

ramona and cassidy have been trying to help as much as they can, and you’re good at faking it. for the most part, at least. it’s been five days, but they’ve all been unusual. you didn’t even go out and drink during the weekend, though you heard the music blaring next door like usual.

it doesn’t help that it’s been a rather dreary sunday, and the last thing you want to do is get out of bed. the rain patters against your window, and you watch the drops roll down the glass.

it makes your own eyes water, which you suppose is overdue. your sour thoughts have been swirling around your head for far too long, and you haven’t had any kind of release.

no yelling, no crying. just dull lifeless eyes staring at the passing clouds. but you can feel it coming now, and as much as you want to stop it, you can’t.

at first the tears fall silently, that is until you start to sniffle. and then your nose won’t stop running, and your pillow is completely damp, and you feel like a total idiot.

it’s worse that the only person you can chastise is yourself. you’re the one who ran out on him, the one who said you regretted sleeping together.

but you know for sure now that you don’t. you like the way chris makes you feel, the chase. it’s irrational to get this close to him, to risk letting him use and dispose of you. you’re aware that it’s very likely.

chris has a reputation that he wears with pride, and it’s silly to think that you’re going to be the one to change his ways. but you can choose to work with them instead of against them.

you shoot up in bed, almost like a switch has been flipped in your body. you’re still crying, and you know you’re not looking your best with puffy bloodshot eyes. but none of it matters, because you’ve already dealt with radio silence for nearly a week and you need to talk to him. it can’t wait any longer.

you’re not exactly sure what you’re going to say, but you figure it’ll come to you in the moment like it always does with chris. so you race downstairs and jam your sneakers on before flying out the front door.

the rain is freezing on your skin, pattering hard and fast against your body as it mixes with your tears. you can feel yourself getting soaked as your shoes squish into the ground.

you’ve walked this path very frequently in the past few weeks, far more than you ever expected to.

you silently hope this won’t be the last.

you take the steps up to the front door two at a time, not hesitating to pound on the wood as soon as you’re close enough. you’re actually mid-knock when it opens, and your knuckle collides with chris’s chest.

he raises his eyebrows, looking at you incredulously like he’s not sure what you’re doing here or why you just hit him.

you practically jump back, yanking your hand away quickly. “shit—sorry. i didn’t mean to do that.”

your words hang there, waiting to be replied to, but it doesn’t come. chris remains silent, studying you carefully, trying to decide if he should close the door in your face.

but he can’t bring himself to do it, because you look so upset, and he can tell you’ve been crying which breaks his heart more.

“i, uh, came over to say i’m sorry. for what i said the other day.” you continue, taking a single step closer to try and find some shelter from the storm.

“it’s whatever.” he shrugs you off easily.

you bite down on the inside of your cheek, trying to work up the courage to tell the truth. you can tell he’s growing impatient, still angry with the way you left things.

you don’t blame him.

“and i also wanted to say that i…i don’t regret it. and i shouldn’t have left like that.” you finally admit, voice quiet as you gaze at him.

his pretty blue eyes go wide, completely shocked by this confession. that was the last thing he expected you to say, and it makes his cheeks grow warm.

he’s annoyed by the fact that his red face is clearly a dead giveaway, because you smile softly at his reaction.

“really?” he asks.

“don’t make me say it twice, christopher.” you point a finger at him.

he takes a step closer, leaning down just a little bit to look you at you directly. he’s smirking now too, and you know that his ego has made a full recovery.

“i want to hear you say it over and over, baby.” chris breathes against your mouth.

he hovers, and you know you need to prove yourself to him. so you wrap a damp hand around the back of his neck and pull him the rest of the way, smashing your lips against his.

all of your pent up aggression and intensity go into the kiss, and it’s making you weak in the knees as one of his hands finds your hip and the other finds your ass. he clearly doesn’t care about the fact that you’re dripping wet, and you suddenly feel like you’re wet in a completely different way.

you can also tell he’s trying to be dominant, but you’re the one who ends up clamping down on his bottom lip lightly. he gives your ass a firm smack in response, and you gasp just enough for him to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

after the time apart, you can’t seem to get close enough to him, and you’re clawing at his back like you want to crawl into his skin. chris is actually the one to push himself from you first, though he still rests his forehead against yours.

“come inside?”

you laugh under your breath. “i’m literally soaked.”

“you’re also shivering, and you should probably get into a shower.” he attempts to persuade you, leaning in to steal one more peck.

you smile against his lips, shaking your head once he pulls away. “i think i’m too terrified of your bathroom.”

“well yours is free too.” chris points out before slipping by you into the rain, his fingers closing around your own as he pulls you along.

and you let him, following the boy back out into the downpour because you truly want to.

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #hockey!chris #hockey!au #neighbor au #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo fanfic #fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader

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churipu · 10 months ago

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hii i hope ur midterms r going well !! ive binge read so many of ur work n js wanted to say theyre so amazing (´꒳`) i wanted a request for toji + any other character of ur choice x reader who stays up late n has difficulty sleeping (fluff),, thank u !! 🤍

𝗜𝗧'𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘 𝗔𝗠 !

────── 𝕴 . featuring. toji fushiguro x reader

────── 𝕴 . warnings. cursing, and mentions of toji being soft, i love him.

note. hi nonnie! thank you so much, you're too nice to me, and yes, my midterms went well! it's been so long since i've done the requests in my inbox, which is the sole reason to why i have closed my ask box so i could finish them all! although, the next time i open them, i won't accept requests for a bit. sorry for those who have visited my inbox and have waited for a long time for your piece to be done. // anyways, new theme = new layout!

"why aren't you in bed?"

toji's voice came out hoarse — he cleared his throat and approached you, sitting himself on the couch despite his heart caressing his ears, pleading for him to go back inside the bedroom and just lay back down on the bed.

the cotton surface of the couch dipped just as he practically threw himself down on it, holding back a loud yawn. you raised a brow, shoving the spoonful of cereal you mixed with milk five minutes ago, just before toji emerged from your shared room.

small yellow chips of cereal that had grown soggy, seeping in the white tasteless liquid dispersed into a mush inside your mouth. they weren't even solid as they're supposed to be, "can't sleep, you?"

"you weren't there."

old habits die hard. that's how the saying goes, and you undeniably agreed to that. the night is an old friend to you, never did your eyelids felt heavy when you were supposed to be in bed, asleep. it's not healthy, you're killing yourself doing this.

"you're such a baby," you mutter out, staring into space, feeling your eyes slowly dissociate — jaw moving in a slow motion, biting into wet and mush before you swallow them.

"y/n, it's three am, y' can't keep doing this stuff," toji scratches his nape, leaning his head back onto the couch rest.

despite your eyes staring into nothing, you could hear his words pretty well. in fact, toji had repeated the same words countless of times that you found yourself engraving it into your mind, "i know, i can't sleep. i know it's not healthy, if i could stop it, i would."

"you're scooping nothing, y/n."

this time, his statement pulled you back into reality. looking down to see that you were indeed scooping no soggy cereal chip, nor a drop of milk onto your spoon. chuckling out lightly, you stood up and sauntered over to the kitchen, dumping what was left of your cereal pieces into the sink.

"you should go to bed," you tell him, wiping your wet hands onto your shirt — crumpling up the fabric to soak them in the access waterdrops lacing your fingers, "'ts late."

toji scoffs lightly, "shouldn't i be saying that shit to you?"

no mistakes there. you emitted out a soft sigh, "i'm fine, i'll be back in bed in a few . . ." toji raises a brow skeptically. he never forgot the last time you said that, he woke up alone on the bed — and you were wide awake on the couch, watching the morning news.

"hell no. it's two of us or nobody goes back to bed, 'm not kidding." he mutters out, not realizing how harsh his voice came out as.

brows furrowed deeply, he looks at you. your disheveled (h/c) hair going all point in a compass points, the visible dark shade of exhaustion coloring under your eyes — and the light creases on the corner of your beautiful, tired eyes.

"can you not?" you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose; honestly, you can't blame him at all, he's just a worried boyfriend and you were being stubborn.

"can i not what? worry about my own—" he stops mid sentence and shakes his head. toji was never a man of words, he doesn't express his affection to you through words. he's had moments, not a lot, but he's had them.

toji's a man of actions. he thinks that words mean nothing, which you knew, "'m tired, but i can't sleep, okay? i'll just hang out here a few more minutes and i'll come back to bed. you don't have to stay awake just because 'm awake."

"just shut up."

you stare at him, surprised. parting your lips, you try to speak again but toji beats you to it.

"can't i worry about you or something? you're my partner," he said, his then exhausted eyes now fully refreshed. a tinge of frustration coloring his greenish iris.

your eyes darted around for a bit, searching for words to spout out as a reply, "you don't have to worry about me, 'm fine. i promise. so, can you please just go to bed and stop worrying about me?"

"fuck that," he stands up, with heavy footsteps he darted towards you.

his figure grew in your view as he closes the distance between you and him. with a quick motion, he threw you over his shoulder, letting you dangle over his shoulder. at this point, you were too exhausted to even move a limb so you just laid there, not having the cell to even open your mouth.

toji walks over to the bedroom and he sat you down gently on the bed. on most occasions, he would throw you onto the bed playfully — but this was serious. he's pissed, and you're pissed.

"sleep."

you crane your neck upwards, face scrunching into one of annoyance, "i just told you that i can't—"

"try."

shaking your head, you said, "i can't, i've tried."

his finger brushed over your hair, smoothing them back down. he didn't reply to you. frankly, he finds it hard to be in the current position — as a kid, he was taught to never show his weakness. he grew up in a household full of so much hate that he forgot what love is.

here you were. vulnerable, in a weak state that toji has seen a lot before throughout your relationship. if this was anyone else, toji swore he'd tell them to suck it up because life isn't always what they think it ought to be.

but this isn't anyone else, it's you. y/n. the only person toji has showed his own vulnerable sides to — it's like a punch to his gut when he saw a bit of his younger self in you. he had nobody, and nobody had him.

it's different this time, it's not about him anymore. it's about you. you had him, and he had you.

toji inhaled sharply, his large hands slipping underneath your pits as he gently pushes you up. your feet dangled as he then pulled you into him, his right hand traveled onto the hollow of your back — and his left hand prepped your legs around his torso.

you felt like a child, "what're you doing?"

"shut up," he mutters out into the crook of your neck, "just try to get some sleep."

he pressed his lips onto your skin tenderly, making you shudder at the sudden contact — but you liked it. toji didn't stop, with an arm around your waist, and another under your thighs, he held you close to him.

warm and shallow breaths blew onto your skin like warm lights, it didn't tickle, you bury your head into the crook of his neck. copying his actions, "'m sorry."

toji grunted, "for?"

"just . . . everything," you murmur out.

his grip around your waist tightened, "'ts not somethin' to be sorry of, you can't control it. so just try and get some sleep," he muttered out, rocking side to side gently.

a faint smile appeared on your lips as you pulled your head back slightly, "you're too nice to me."

"don't get used to it," toji rolled his eyes.

"i love you too," you planted a kiss onto his lips briefly before returning your head into the crook of his neck, letting him lull you to sleep for the night.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #fluff #toji fluff #toji oneshot #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro fluff

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missswritesalot · 5 months ago

Text

Yall tumblr was being a bitch and would literally not let me make a new post for whatever reason. It also deleted this ask from my inbox, thank heavens i had a screenshot. Enjoy, will edit it later to make it more medieval :)

Your marriage to Robb Stark didn’t come with a husband’s love, but nonetheless brought with it all the duties of the Lady of Winterfell. You felt robbed, neither your father not husband ever spared you a second thought. Yet you dutifully married Robb, and now were running his household.

You sighed as you helped one of the servants count sacks of grain in the great yard of Winterfell. The southern houses were yet to send the grain you bought. There was meat to be salted and firewood collected. Winter was coming, you thought worriedly, and there was still so much to do.

A frown fell on your face as you realized you were thinking like one of them.

Two months passed since your wedding. You thought you would get used to Robb openly loving Talisa. Yet these last few weeks you found yourself more quick to tears than you ever were. You didn’t care about Robb per se, but that he was your husband and shared his bed with a wench from the free cities.

You couldn’t even plead for an annulment, as you had consummated your marriage the night of the wedding. You remember feeling his caring touch, murmured apologies as he tenderly made love to you. He was determined but acted out of duty, not passion. You felt a spark of hope then, in the throes of pleasure. Perhaps now that he had you, Robb would be true and send Talisa away.

That hope was fleeting. He slept in her tent every night after that, for the rest of the war. Your broken heart hardened towards him, your humiliation turned to resentment.

When he won the war and you were seated next to him at the feast, you had foolishly hoped Robb would honor you on returning to Winterfell, and shun Talisa, but she remained by his side in your place. You felt despair, there was no light at the end of this tunnel.

You felt increasingly miserable this morning, and felt very light headed too. You had not been eating these last couple of weeks, and woke each morning retching. A wave of nausea rolled over you now.

“My lady, are you alright?” You heard a serf question as you faltered. You felt him guide you to a pile of hay but you were dizzy and sweaty, and fell into the inviting void.

When you awoke you were in bed propped up by pillows.

Catelyn was sitting next to you, and gave you a tentative smile when you looked at her.

“How do you feel?” She asked you gently. She patted you on the head. You felt too ill to reply.

The maester walked in and asked you a few questions. You answered curtly, you didn’t care for any of the northerners, not even him.

“My lady, I have examined you while asleep. I am happy to say you are with child,” he reported softly.

Your mouth fell open and your head whipped to look at him. “What?” You whispered. Catelyn squeezed your hand reassuringly.

You had given up on all hopes of motherhood when Robb went back to Talisa from the second night. You felt tears well in your eyes.

“Are you certain?” You whispered.

“We will know more as the months progress. The child will come before winter starts, if what we know is true.” He said, gently smiling.

You started to laugh. The hopeless despair ebbed away out of you. You were filled with joy so pure you started to cry.

“I thought it could never happen to me,” you muttered, unable to control yourself. Catelyn cringed but gave you a sympathetic glance.

You knew she felt bad for you and sympathized with you. She thought her husband’s bastard was the end of the world, but her son proved to be far worse.

You spent the rest of the day in bed, the maester’s instructions, and slightly rubbed your belly.

“Just you and me now, love,” you said, smiling to yourself.

It was Catelyn who told Robb that you were carrying his child. When the maester revealed the news, she had hoped it was because Robb finally took you to bed. But he seemed surprised, and told her not since the wedding night had he touched you.

Robb drowned in regret that night. Talisa tried to touch him, to hug him, but he shrugged her away and went to peer out the window, feeling the crisp northern air. He wanted to go to the only other person who felt the same happiness as him, but you had chosen to give up your right of informing him about your baby.

The months that followed made Robb crumble with guilt whenever your paths crossed.

You were glowing at dinner one night, smiling and answering all sorts of questions.

Your face looked surprised all of a sudden, and Robb looked at you worriedly. You grabbed Catelyn’s hand and let her feel your babe move. She laughed, blue eyes lighting up, and assured you it was alright, your baby was strong.

Talisa saw the longing and pining in Robb’s eyes. He wished to feel his son kick too. Instead, he looked dejected and regretted the bed he made for himself by hurting you. He apologized to Talisa that night. He paid her handsomely for the inconvenience and sent her away back to the south where she could reunite with the Sept.

As the months passed you grew in size and walked funnily. You read to your child often, and you and Catelyn became the best of friends. You looked forward to the birth, sure you were anxious, but it would be worth it to hold your child.

When the maesters suggested you lie in bed till the arrival of the little lord, Robb noticed your continual absence at dinner.

“Can I go meet her, mother?” He asked Catelyn one night as she walked out of your chamber.

“Why do you hurry? Perhaps you must wait until the child is grown and you are on your deathbed?” Catelyn said sharply, and turned on her heels. It took a beat for Robb to register that she was being sarcastic.

“It is my child too. My first. My hier.” Robb protested, following her.

“And yet while she struggles, you have not acknowledged it, nor have you uttered a kind word to her.” She said sharply.

“I- I-“ Robb was at a loss. He didn’t imagine you could want his company in your delicate situation. He felt a sharp spasm in his stomach as his guilt grew, he knew he took the easy way out by assigning responsibility to you, when he was to blame.

“I am ashamed you are my son,” Catelyn said finally. Robb watched her go, his heart sinking in his chest.

He didn’t sleep at all that night, and the next, and the nights after that. One day, he couldn’t take any more of the anguish and decided to pay you a visit. It was the middle of the night and the whole castle slept.

Your door creaked as he pushed it open, and to his surprise he saw you still awake. You were resting against the furs, half sitting, and had a book propped up on your swollen belly.

“Lady Y/N,” Robb said softly. He had always called you Lady Y/N or Lady Fray.

“My lord,” you said, confused. You no longer felt any anger when you saw him, but he was the last person you expected to see at this hour. Let alone in his breeches with a half open robe thrown on top.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” he questioned gently. He carefully approached your bed till he sat on the edge, over the furs. You unwillingly noticed the strength in his shoulders, the hard lines of his abdomen. Maybe childbirth would lessen your desire, you hoped.

“I cannot breathe when I lay down. It’s like he rests on my lungs,” you said, affection infusing your voice as you spoke of your child.

“I’m sorry to hear,” Robb said softly. “I know I have not acted the ideal husband-“ He let out a self depreciating laugh.

“An understatement.” You said. He looked sad at that. Sad and pathetic.

He leaned forward and kissed your brow. “I cannot express how deeply sorry I am,” he whispered.

“I will try to atone for my sins. For you and for our child.”

“Robb,” you said quietly, eyes wide. “you can start by calling the maesters. I think he wants to come out.”

Robb sprung back and you noticed he looked younger than ever. His hair fell into his face.

“Now?” He asked, “Are you alright?”

You felt another sharp cramp hit. “The maesters, Robb. Now!”

Robb didn’t attend to his duties the next day. He sat outside your chambers, propped up against the wall with his legs spread out in front of him.

The maesters and even his mother warned that first babies were slow to come, he had better go about his duties. But his head was clouded with thoughts of you. He felt ice shards pierce his heart whenever he heard you moan or cry, but the silence in between was far worse to endure.

He prayed to the old gods and to the new that if you lived, he would spend the rest of his life making it up to you.

Robb didn’t wish to see anyone, and no one could convince him to go wait elsewhere. At last after sun down he heard the sounds of your baby. He waited to be let in, to see his child and heir.

It felt like ages before the door opened. Catelyn’s smiling face beckoned him inside. He found you seated on the bed again, looking drained but shining with pride and joy.

“Your daughter,” you said shyly to him, still looking at her. You rocked her as she let out a small cry. She did a tiny yawn and you cooed in response, your heart exploding with love.

“I’m sorry about how cruelly I treated you.” Robb apologized.

“Robb-“ you said, trying to stop him, but he cut you off.

“Neither you nor I entered this marriage willingly, but I have been most unfair. I do not wish to dishonor you. Love is something we build brick by brick, not momentary passion.”

“Why now?” You asked, confused. “Why now after all this time?”

“Because I’ve fallen in love with you.” You gasped.

“I know you do not share my feelings but we have a lifetime to correct it.” He continued, smiling cheekily.

You grinned and rolled your eyes. You were stuck with him, for better or worse.

#robb stark #game of thrones #robb stark request #game of thrones fanfic #robb stark imagine #robb stark fanfic #robb stark smut #robb stark prompt #robb stark x reader #robb stark x oc #robb stark x y/n #robb stark imagines #robb stark x you

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