#when she retires the place falls apart

[indelen]

In STEM in never fails, Professor Stockbridge-Huntington-West has two PhDs and is leader in the field of biochemistry but it's Elizabeth in the smallest room in the Department office who can actually get his samples shipped over the border without getting like six different governments investigating you and the university ending up on some watchlist because the vials have a biohazard sign on them.

If there's a scientific breakthrough anywhere you know the one person not on any papers that made half of it possible is a Jill or a Pearl or a Margaret or an Ida that actually runs that Department.

i think this is probably true of every office, but there's a middle aged woman working in business who doesn't hold any particular place in the chain of command but is Sovereign. i was running support and she has access to more secure network drives than i do. im pretty sure she has an admin account. i was having trouble with my parking pass and my boss just said to talk to kristen- one day later i had parking in any garage on campus. she's not even in charge of parking in our building

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine logan seeing you again

logan x reader

warning: some deadpool x wolverine spoilers. this takes place after the movie. under 1k words.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The apartment was packed jammed with friends and some foes of Wade Wilson. There might have been music playing in the background, but Logan couldn’t tell when his eyes locked with the figure walking through the front door. His heart dropped, he felt sick to his stomach as his eyes fluttered. It had to be a dream but then he quickly came to his senses.

This wasn’t his universe, his world. He was somewhere entirely new. He caught his breath as Wade shouted out an exclamation of joy. Logan watched as he drew up from his seat to greet you with an overzealous hug, pulling you toward the group at the table.  Wade held you rough by the shoulders and grinned. “Look who decided to come out of retirement, conveniently after we,” he pointed to Logan then himself. “Saved the fucking world. Avengers, who? Bunch of assholes, if you ask me.”

“You sound like a man scorn, Wade,” you teased, offering a wave of a hand to your friends. The idiot next to you was right, the whole superhero thing had been a thing of the past. You have been a regular civilian for a few years now and have been loving a more relaxed existence – not being threatened daily was like, nice. “Don’t worry, you’ll see all the details in the movie. Have you meant my little angry beaver, the Wolverine?”

Your head jerked to where the older gentlemen was sitting, and you grinned. “I haven’t had the pleasure. I never met this world’s Logan – we ran in different circles. It’s nice to meet you.”

His heart relaxed and he confidently held out a hand, ignoring the interested glance from Laura. “Nice to meet you.”

“Take a seat next to Logan,” Wade urged, winking over to his new hesitant partner. “I’m sure he can fill you in on all the fun we’ve had together. Tell her about the sex ramp we had in the car that one time.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Logan cursed, telling you to ignore him.

“I usually do,” you laughed, thanking Vanessa for the beer she slid over from her side of the table. Popping it open, you relaxed and asked Logan how this place was treating him. “Must be weird, coming here. It’s like your world, right? Just slightly different?”

“Something like that.”

“Did we know each other back there?”

Your question seemed so invasive and frank – it almost made Logan smile because some people never changed, no matter what universe. Back where he came from, you were such a firecracker little shit. He had his hands full dealing with your bullshit. You were always running towards danger with little regard for your own safety because you had him. He had always been at your side, or at least, trying to catch up but he had always been there for you.

Logan had loved you and you had loved him.

Two reckless mutants.

Then you died and that sent him straight down a barrel of alcohol and indifference, to everyone and everything in his world. Which led to his greatest shame of all, allowing his family to be murdered because he was too busy drinking his sorrows away. He had long forgotten what it felt like to see you smile or hear you laugh, to feel your fingertips on his skin. The weight of your head on his chest as you slept, he never could replicate that feeling and yet, here you were.

A different version of you but God, the same.

“We were friends, really good friends.”

The hint of sadness in his voice was enough for you to understand and maybe not truly, but something had happened. That much was evident and while it might have been silly, you wanted nothing more than to comfort this man next to you. The room seemed to fall quiet, but no one was paying attention, except the girl next to Logan. Your eyes met hers, but she just smiled and looked away. Logan’s eyes were focused on the beer in his hands, but his eyes jerked up when a gentle hand touched the top of his. Your skin ablaze his and it felt wrong to feel like he had once when he didn’t even know you. Not this version of you, a woman he knew nothing about. It didn’t feel right but he wanted nothing more to allow this to go on. To see who you were in this world.

Did he deserve that? After everything that happened.

“Were? I won’t pry but it seems like life has given you a second chance, Logan.” You smiled softly and removed your hand from his, lifting your beer can to him. “You guys saved this world; a second chance is the least the universe can give you. Why not take it?”

Logan chuckled lowly. “The version of you I knew also had a deficiency in reasoning.”

A hard smack landed on his chest, and he laughed, which made you laugh. “Yeah, well, at least I don’t look like that idiot.”

Looking over to where you pointed to Wade, who had decided to show off his hair piece, Logan smirked. “Yeah, that’s fucking terrible.”

The two of you smiled at each other and something clicked in that moment, leaving the both of you quiet until you broke the tension. “To not looking like Wade Wilson.”

Logan clicked his beer against yours and felt a settling in his heart. Maybe he did deserve a second chance, at least, he could start toward earning that second chance. “Amen to that.”

[aphelionwrotes11]

(MDNI, dubcon) (not edited)

Thinking about stalker!john price who retired early and can’t stand spending his time in his big ol’ house all by himself :(

Wanders across a pretty little dear like you, working retail in one of the little stores in the small town you live in. Can’t help falling in love with those tentative eyes that look up at him through your lashes, all shy and soft.

He just can’t control the way he feels like he has to keep you safe, your his now, doll. Follows you home every night, just to make sure you’re safe. Puts a few cameras around your house, only to make sure no unwanted visitors are hanging around, of course!

But he can’t help himself when he finds himself in your room when you’re sleeping, gazing at your relaxed figure. Oh, so peaceful and gorgeous.

You start getting a bit paranoid when you begin noticing a few things out of place. A door closed that you could’ve swore you left open when you left, a few missing shirts, a few missing panties, and now you come home to an apartment just a bit cleaner than you left it. Your bed made a little neater, no dirty laundry hung from a chair or lying on the edge of your bed.

At first you think you’re losing it. This shitty job must be taking too much out of you. But, on a night when an especially shitty shift happens, everything comes crashing down. Some rando decided to take out their frustration on you which then led to you bursting into tears and running off to the back room, frustrated and humiliated. A few minutes later your manager comes to tell you that you can go home, that bloke was dragged off by some guy into the night, she’s certain he won’t be a bother again.

So, you make your way down your usual path. Sniffling every now and then, pausing only to wipe your puffy eyes. When you get to your front door, you find that it’s already unlocked. Blinding hot fear lodges itself into your throat. Did that guy follow you home? (No lol)

You push the door open to be hit with the smell of your favorite take out. You take a few cautious steps in, scanning the kitchen and living room. It’s empty, but spotless. Dishes are put away, the counters looked like they’ve been scrubbed clean, the floors are swept. On the table rests a bag from your favorite restaurant, a note lies beside it reading, eat up little dear :)

John watches you from the crack in the door of your small hallway closet. Watches you walk through your house, kitchen knife in hand, looking for any potential threats. You look everywhere, besides the closet in the hallway. Oh honey, what would you do without him? What if there had been a real intruder and you had just missed him? Gosh. But, John’s upset is quickly replaced with joy as you settle into a seat and eat your still hot dinner. He can’t help but shiver as a relaxed look comes across your face, more relaxed than you’ve looked in ages. That must mean that you accept him now right?

Well, he takes it that way. Starts getting more bold. Leaves gifts on your counter for you to come home to, your favorite foods, books you like, items from stores you looked at just a bit too long. Keeps your apartment tidy, clothes washed, dishes laid to dry. At first, fear grabs you by the heart each time you come home from work to find another gift and a clean apartment. But after a week or so you decide that whoever it is that’s been watching you has been more of a help than a nuisance, and if they wanted to hurt you they would’ve by now, right? So you stupidly allow yourself to relax into this routine. Had to decide not to call the cops when you came home to find a few pairs of lacy panties laid out on your bed, matching bralettes resting beside them. In your size of course.

So, on one of your worst nights of the year, a shitty shift, shitty day, shitty week. You find yourself sobbing into a pillow in the darkness of your room. Sleep just couldn’t find you. You gasp when you feel the other side of the bed sink. Lying there, frozen. You feel a big, warm hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly. John sucks in a breath just at the feel of you. You start to cry more, “no- no please-“ you sob, terrified.

And John just coos at you.

“Shh, shh, don’t worry honey. M’not gonna do anythin. Just wanna hold’ya, make you feel better.”

He lays down behind you, warm arms encircling your waist, pulling you closer to his broad chest. And despite better logic, you allow him too. Find yourself relaxing in his warm grip, melting from his low coos. This is bad, very bad. Extremely dangerous. But at this point you just don’t care.

John holds you like that for a while, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, pressing his nose into your hair.

“What’s got you all worked up, honey? Hard day? Could make you feel a lot better. Could make that all go away.”

He whispers into the soft skin of your neck, and you whimper. Starts squeezing the fat of your hips, placing little kisses along the length of your throat. Your hands find his hair and tug, he takes that as a sign to keep going.

S’not long before he’s spearing you with his hot, heavy cock. Thrusting into you at a languid pace from behind. His calloused fingers rub your clit. Your whining and moaning, melting from his touch.

“Would do anything for ya honey, promise’ya I would, so perfect..” he groans into your ear, a hand coming up to roll your nipple between his fingers.

He’s moving so perfectly, his thrusts hitting a spot inside of you that sends ripples of pleasure up your spine. When you finally come, shuddering and clenching on his cock, he whimpers.

He doesn’t stop there, flips you onto your back and starts thrusting into you like a battering ram, no more soft love making. That’s when you see his face, that ruggedly handsome regular that you’ve had the biggest crush on, who just so happened to also be your stalker.

Your too fucked out too care, and he’s too pussy drunk to think. Fucking himself into you like an animal.

“Been waiting to touch you like this sweetheart, waitin so long- fuuuck-“ he sounds drunk, his voice thick. His eyes are glassy as he stares down at you.

“Need ya, I love ya..” he mumbles deliriously, getting closer to filling your tight cunt by the second.

“Cum in me..” you whisper. And that’s what throws him over the edge.

He cums, hard. Thrusting his seed into you, milking his cock with your clenching cunt. He’s crying, a few tears dripping down his cheeks. :((

“Love you, love you, love you, love you-“ he repeats like a mantra, fucking himself into you still despite the overstimulation. Looks utterly wrecked.

Takes a few weeks, but eventually he manages to coax his little sweetheart into living with him. It’s a lot easier, isn’t it? I mean he’s always with you regardless, been following you around for a while. Now he gets to see you constantly. Has you quit that shitty job, promises to take care of you. Deposits money into your bank account each week to ease your nervousness, just so you don’t feel too trapped, not that he’d ever let you go.

Follows you around like a lost puppy, always an arms length away. Eventually you mind less and less.

Months pass by in a blur and it’s not long till your stomach is fat and swollen with a little baby, and he’s on one knee in front of you with a ring. Doesn’t matter what you say though :( you’re his girl, forever.

(Gaaahhhhh I love him so much. NEEEEEED HIM.)

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited)³ retired simon has nowhere to go, so you offer. { his pov } [ one, two, three]

she’s like a breath of fresh air. bright and cold. a gust so frigid that it sends goosebumps to shroud his skin. like the first fall of snow. was it december now? how long has it been since he’d left? how long has he wandered? adrift like a buoy at sea. but strangely stuck, straying in place. like some sort of ghost. trapped and terrified.

he thinks she’s naive. strange, even. like a child left outside without supervision. prone to being up to no good. she’s insistent in her little fiat car. her hands are covered in a pair of creme wool gloves. and when he looks close enough he notices that they’re fraying at the seam. worn. loved.

she says her name. it’s pretty, her name. it fits. she’s expectant, waiting for him to speak. give her something, anything he’s sure. she seems like a good girl. too good, too much for him, not enough for her. he hardly even knew her. but she wants to know you. she’s being nice. nothing more. simon. that’s what he tells her and it rolls off her tongue faultlessly. “well, we’re not strangers anymore, simon.” is what she says. he finds her amusing.

it’s her eyes. that’s what makes him slide into the passenger seat. they're wide. warm. nervous— despite her being the one to offer him a ride. it’s endearing, if not a bit entertaining. and the cold has already frozen his body. he can hardly feel his feet. but he deserves this. this life that he’s been subjected to.

she’s an anxious thing. her gloved hands drum lightly against the steering wheel. she’s shit at making small talk. and from the reflection of the car window, he can see the way she works her bottom lip into her mouth. he’s tempted to thumb it from within the wet heat. he doesn't.

“could be a killer.” she smiles. her eyes brighten. it’s small but he finds himself forgetting to breathe. in and out. in and out. she smells temptingly like honey and spices, all tangy and sweet. fuck. he holds his breath. “are you?” he doesn't respond. after all the killing. the blood that stains his hands. his skin. won't come off no matter how hard he scrubs. he’s a murderer. yes, i am. she’s too trusting. he wouldn't hurt her. never.

small. is how he would describe the apartment. small but homey. filled with greenery, color, and a tiny christmas tree. it’s tucked away. surrounded by lights at its base. it smells like chocolate, milk to be specific. but her as well. honeyed spices and dried fruits, tangy and sweet. the radio that he hears plays quietly. silent night in instrumental. his heart tightens in his chest.

he’s not sure how he ended up here. surrounded by her four walls. she suggests sweetly. eyes wide and sad at his destination. he declines. she isn't the type to take no for an answer. her brows are knitted. hands tightening. he’s enamored. he shouldn't stay. he should tuck and roll out the car while he has the chance. run. like he’s used to doing. too late the two pull in. she’s pleased with herself. he grins faintly beneath his mask. cute.

the couch is a bed. it pulls out into one anyway. she busies herself. shuffling to get sheets and a comforter. it’s a faded baby blue, printed with delicate flowers. and she looks proud. smiling at the cozy couch. her lips are coated in a sheen. from the lip balm she’d put on a second ago. and he adverts his eyes when she looks toward him. couldn't meet those wide eyes. sweet and nervous. he stares instead at the makeshift bed. she speaks. grins awkwardly.

“thank you.” he means it. it’s stiff. his voice hoarse from the cold but, he means it— no matter how gruff it comes out. her hands. no longer swathed by wool gloves, slide down denim-clad thighs. lips press. and her head nods. she says his name again, but scurries before he can reply, and maybe it’s for the best. he can barely speak.

click.

he shouldn't. but he finds himself amused. good girl. he was still a stranger after all. a strange man she has willingly invited into her home. he wondered briefly if she was right in the head. right to slow for him. to smile at him. she couldn't be. unsure. he can’t get comfortable. just lays there and listens to her faint voice. walls thin. voice muffled. but words clear. “die tonight.”— “…love you.” he ponders.

he doesn't remember a ring. friend? mom? boyfriend? his heart aches. he doesn't know her. he has no right to feel anything. she was nice, too good. he was the opposite, with nowhere to go. nothing to offer. why was he here? he should leave. but sleep weighs heavy on his eyes. bing crosby lulls him to sleep. he’d be gone before she woke.

i've always thought simon to have very choppy thoughts. and always being very in his head. very observant. so yeah. listened to christmas music making this! hehehe

[puckinghischier]

Falling

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader gets hurt and nico is worried about her

notes: y’all i ain’t gonna lie, i went through a bit of a rollercoaster while writing this. i loved it at first, then halfway through started hating it, then somehow started loving it again towards the end. so if it seems a little all over place i’m sorry. also i know very little about how a dislocated shoulder works, so just pretended i didn’t if i got anything wrong. i hope y’all enjoy it!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “A hears that B got hurt and rushes over in a panic to see if they are okay” where reader maybe gets in an accident or gets hurt in their sport (nothing major). Bonus points if you add “I can braid your hair for you- I mean, only if you want.”

[4.5k]

part 2

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Nothing’s broken, just a nasty dislocation,” you attempt to calm your mother’s nerves, trying to unlock your apartment door with your good arm while balancing your phone between your cheek and shoulder. “They reset it for me and told me to follow up with my primary care on Monday. Gave me some pain meds and sent me on my way.”

“Well, what about until then? What if you need help? What about work? How will you drive?” she rapid fires questions at you.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry. Since it was a work-related injury, I’ll still get paid. And they’re paying all of the medical bills, so that’s all taken care of,” you make your way into your apartment, shutting the door with your foot behind you. “Everything else I’ll handle as it comes.”

She doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer, tsking into her phone, making you picture her trademark displeased headshake.

“What about Nico? Why don’t you stay with him until you’re back to 100%? I’m sure he’d be willing to help out,” she suggests, her tone switching from worried to suggestive.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed.

“Mom, how many times do I have to tell you, Nico and I are just friends. We work together. Just because you think you saw him look at me a certain way when you were visiting doesn’t mean I have to call him every time something goes wrong,” you tell her, placing your bag on your kitchen table.

Ever since your mom came in a few months ago to visit, she’s been on your case about making a move on Nico, it all starting when she witnessed Nico helping you across the ice during a pre-game practice while trying to get some action shots.

You work as a photographer for the Devils, not realizing that being able to ice skate would have been a nice addition to your resume.

Your college advisor arranged the interview for you right before graduation. You had no previous knowledge of hockey, having come from a football family. You told your advisor this, but she insisted you didn’t have to know anything about a sport to be able to take good pictures of it.

During the interview, you made sure to inform your now boss that you didn’t know how to skate, hoping it wouldn’t be a problem. He assured you that you could take pictures from the stands or the players bench, the chance of you having to step onto the ice slim.

For the first few months of your job, it was smooth sailing. You were mostly taking pictures from the camera holes in the glass or being told to cover locker room and arrival pictures. You worked with one other photographer, a seasoned sports photography veteran named Phil. Phil was a New Jersey native, having grown up skating, so he took over the duties of any major action shots the director wanted from on the ice.

Unfortunately for you, Phil’s wife had convinced him to retire early, losing his help right before the league’s short Christmas break.

Seeing as they had just hired you, and it was the middle of the season, the hunt for a replacement for Phil was put on the backburner, more important team matters taking precedence.

You were forced to take over Phil’s duties, meaning you were now responsible for any on the ice shots. You had found a way to slowly scoot across the perimeter of the rink, staying out of the way while also getting the shots you needed.

Your system was working well until the morning of a gameday, having gotten permission from your boss to bring your mother along to this particular practice, wanting to show her all aspects of your job.

For this particular game, the players were especially focused on practicing their skills and running drills during morning skate. You were doing your typical shuffle while clutching the edge of the waist-high wall when someone came zooming past you, causing your feet to start sliding uncontrollably, not being able to find your footing on the slick ice.

You felt the moment you were about to fall, waiting for the impact of your butt on the cold ice, but it never came. You felt yourself fall into a body covered by plastic pads, gloved hands shooting out to grab your upper arms.

You looked up, seeing Nico smiling down at you in amusement.

“It’s a bit slippery out here, huh?” he jokes, making sure you’re standing steady on your feet before letting go of you.

“Well, we are standing on ice, so….” You trail off, grabbing onto the wooden ledge again, preventing another near fall.

Nico laughs, looking down and shuffling his skates back and forth.

“Well would you look at that? We are on ice ” He flashes a smile, looking back up at you.

You stick your tongue out at him, earning another chuckle from the team’s Captain.

“You know, most people use these great things called ice skates when they try to walk on ice,” he tells you, lifting one skate up for emphasis.

Rolling your eyes, you scoff out a “Oh wow, why didn’t I ever think of that?”

“Just some food for thought,” Nico shrugged as he placed his foot back down on the ice, skating in a little circle, as if to say “See, told you so.”

You let go of the ledge to cross your arms, forgetting that you needed the stability. When you try to shift your weight from one leg to the other, you lose your footing again, this time falling forward into Nico. You let the camera in your hands fall, grabbing onto his biceps to stay upright, thankful for the camera strap around your neck.

His hands shoot out to grab your forearms.

“You know the sad thing is, even with the skates, I’d still be as clumsy, considering I have absolutely no idea how to use them,” you tell him, the two of you still holding on to one another.

Nico shakes his head at you, placing one of your hands on his forearm, moving you from in front of him to beside of him.

He starts slowly skating towards the bench while you shuffle your feet along, putting all of your focus on keeping yourself upright until you reach your destination.

When you finally reach the bench, you step off of the ice and let out a breath of relief.

“Thanks, Cap. Would’ve hated to make a fool of myself out there while my mom’s watching,” you thank him, looking over to where your mom sits, a smile on her face.

Nico follows your gaze and waves to your mom, matching her smile.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we? What if she found out her daughter was a skating fraud?” he teases, leaning in to whisper the last two words.

“It’s her fault for never taking me to the rink my town would throw up once a year at Christmas. Who knows, maybe I would’ve been a skating prodigy if given the chance,” you shrug.

A mischievous smile makes its way onto his face. “I think we should put that theory to the test,” he tells you, causing your eyes to latch onto his.

“Come again?” You raise your eyebrows and tilt your chin down.

“I mean, I can’t have some photographer out on my ice during practices that can’t even stand up,” he keeps his tone light, making sure you know he’s just teasing, “So, I’m going to teach you how to skate, and see if you really would have been a skating prodigy.”

He skates off, winking before resuming his practice.

You don’t have a chance to speak to him again until after the game, when you get at text from an unknown number reading “Rink, tomorrow, 2pm. I’ll bring skates, just bring your prodigy skills.”

After that, you meet with Nico twice a week for skating lessons.

The two of you quickly form a friendship, Nico bringing you coffee on gamedays and you slipping him snacks on the bench during games. You even started inviting him over for dinner after your lessons, insisting the least you can do is feed him to repay him for preventing you from making a fool of yourself on the ice.

Today, however, you did make a fool of yourself on the ice.

You were standing behind the net, telling the players to skate towards you so you could get some shots for the team’s Instagram account by request of the social media manager.

Once you were pleased with the amount of shots you had gotten, you left your spot from behind the net, skating slowly towards the benches, still a little wobbly on your skates.

You were looking down at your camera, thinking of how you’ll have to get Nico out here after the game to get some shots, knowing he’s currently doing pre-game interviews in the locker room.

You weren’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the pucks littering the ice in front of you, skating right into one and losing your balance, holding your camera up with one arm while trying to catch yourself with the other.

You felt the way your shoulder shifted, crying out in pain as players turned and started rushing towards you on the ice.

The team doctor came out and told you he was pretty sure your shoulder was simply dislocated, but sent you to the hospital to make sure nothing’s broken.

The ER doctor confirmed your diagnosis, putting your shoulder back into place before pumping you full of pain meds and placing your arm into a sling.

Which leads you to where you are now, back at your apartment, explaining to your mother why Nico can’t be at your beck and call.

“Honey, when are you going to realize that boy is in love with you? I’m telling you, the way I saw him look at you that day I came to visit, the skating lessons and dinners,” she starts, giving you her typical speech when you tell her Nico is just a friend.

“Mom, it doesn’t matter what you think you saw, we’re seriously just friends. And he’s busy, his schedule is too hectic to spend his time babysitting me,” you interrupt her, not wanting to hear her Nico speech for the thousandth time, regretting ever telling her about the skating lessons.

She sighs into the phone.

“I’m just trying to help you, you know…” you hear your mother start, but you tune the rest of her words out, focusing on the three loud knocks on your front door.

Your head turns to your door, the unexpected noise causing you to jump, the sudden motion tipping your bag over, the contents spilling all of your kitchen floor.

“Honey, are you alright? What was that?” your mom halts her one-sided conversation, worry in her tone.

“Shit!” you exclaim, watching the container of memory cards fly open, the small squares sliding across the linoleum floor.

You forget about the sling on your arm, crouching down and trying to reach for the cards with your bad arm, a searing pain shooting through your shoulder at the movement.

Letting out a loud yelp, you bring your arm back to its resting positing in the sling.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Did you hurt yourself?” you barely hear your mother’s voice through the phone speaker, not being able to think about anything other than the throbbing pain in your shoulder.

You hear three more pounds on your front door, this time a voice following the knocks.

“Y/N! Open up!”

You groan, trying to stand up, too many people trying to get your attention at the moment.

“Honey, talk to me. Is someone in there with you? I heard another voice,” your mother asks you as you stand, making your way over towards your front door.

“Someone’s knocking on the door,” you grit through your teeth, trying to think about anything but the pain in your shoulder. “I dropped my bag and tried to pick something up with my bad arm. I’m fine. Just hurts,” you tell her, opening your door to see a frantic Nico standing there.

His wide eyes scan your body, stopping once they see the sling on your arm.

You notice his wet hair and lack of socks on his tennis shoe covered feet.

“Are you okay? They told me you had to be taken to the hospital before the game started, but no one knew what really happened,” he rushed out, looking up at your face.

“Hey, Mom, gotta go, Nico’s at my door,” you tell her, a little stunned that the object of your conversation just appeared, hanging up the phone before she could make any comments about it.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” you ask him, pointing towards his feet, an amused smile on your face. The shock of seeing him at your door making you completely forget about the pain in your shoulder.

Nico looks down at his own feet, looking back up at you with red cheeks.

“Oh, uh, I couldn’t find my socks after the game and i couldn’t get you to answer your phone, so I rushed over to the hospital to see if you were still there, and they told me you left about an hour ago, so I hopped in my car and came over here to make sure you were okay,” he tells you, not meeting your eye.

You’re shocked at his confession, not expecting him to be so concerned about your impromptu trip to the hospital.

“Well, I’m here and still standing,” you awkwardly stand in your doorway, not knowing what else to say, thinking about how if you weren’t arguing with your mom over Nico on the phone, you might have gotten his calls.

“Yeah, I see that now,” he shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

The two of you stand there, not really knowing what to say to one another.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask him, moving out of the doorway to let him step into your apartment.

Nico shakes his head yes and walks past you, looking towards the mess on the floor in your kitchen.

“What happened here? Is this the crash I heard?” he asks you.

“Yeah, the bag fell and spilled everything. When I went to pick it up, I forgot and used my bad shoulder,” you gesture to your slinged arm.

Nico shakes his head at you, crouching down to pick up the camera disks all over the floor.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-“

“Well you’re sure as hell not trying to pick them up again,” Nico interrupts you, standing and placing the now full box of disks on your table.

You roll your eyes at him, walking over towards your fridge.

“So, what exactly happened? Jack told me you hurt your shoulder?” he follows you over to your fridge, watching you scan its contents, or lack thereof.

“Well, I was looking at my camera and skated right into a bunch of pucks on the floor, then was too focused on saving the equipment instead of remembering how to fall properly,” you told him, remembering his words during your first skate lesson, telling you not to catch yourself if you fall on the ice.

“See, I told you to just let yourself fall. Never try to catch yourself,” he echoes his words in your thoughts.

“Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier said than done,” you deadpan, shutting your fridge door and looking at Nico.

Your stomach growls at that exact moment, making you groan at your lack of food in your fridge, not having eaten since before your accident.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Nico asks you, looking down at your growling stomach.

“Uhhh, breakfast?” you recall.

Nico’s eyes widen. “It’s almost midnight. Did they really not feed you at the hospital?” he asks you.

“Considering they were busy doing x-rays and scans to make sure nothing was broken or torn, no,” you walk over to your cabinets, finding them also bare.

“Alright, go sit down and I’ll order us something to eat,” Nico shoos you out of the kitchen, walking over and opening the drawer where you keep all of your takeout menus.

You wonder how he knows where your menus are, forgetting for a moment that he’s over at your apartment at least twice a week after your skating lessons. Sometimes more, the occasional movie night making its way into your weekly routine.

“What do you want? Sushi? Chinese? Burgers?” he questions, flipping through your menus.

For some reason, your brain chooses this moment to register how much you enjoy the sight of Nico in your kitchen, looking through your takeout menus and offering to order you dinner.

You think back to all the times he’s helped you make dinner, laughter filling every moment of your time together. You think about how he always wear his pjs when he comes over for a movie night, bringing a different chocolate candy to put in the popcorn each time. You think about how he somehow learned your coffee order without you ever telling him, bringing you a coffee every morning, even at away games.

You think about your mother’s words, and how you didn’t even have to ask Nico to come over tonight, or to give you skating lessons. You think about how you never have to ask Nico to do anything he does for you – which is a lot, you’re realizing – he just does it. He does it because he wants to, because he’s kind and caring and wants to spend time with you.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N, what do you want for dinner?” Nico snaps you out of your sudden revelation.

“Sorry, spaced out for a second. Must be the pain meds,” you tell him, knowing that your mind isn’t the least bit impaired right now.

“Okay, go sit down, we need to get some food in you then,” he fishes his phone out of his pocket, mumbling out “Can’t believe they pumped you full of meds on an empty stomach.”

You make your way to your couch, sitting down and taking your shoes off, making yourself as comfortable as you can.

You remove a stray piece of hair that fell onto your face, knowing how awful it must look.

When you fell on the ice, the claw clip that was holding your hair in its up-do broke, causing it to fan out over the cold, wet ice. Once you got to the hospital, you were put in and out of so many different machines, you can only imagine the tangled, matted mess it is.

You get up and go to your bathroom, finding your brush and trying to comb it out. The task proving to be difficult with only one hand. The tangles keep pulling your head back and hurting your tender scalp, but you keep trying, whimpering each time the brush gets stuck on a particularly bad tangle.

You don’t even hear Nico approach your bathroom, just a sigh and “I told you to sit down,” before the brush is taken from your hand and you see Nico’s reflection behind you in the mirror.

Without another word, he proceeds to brush your hair for you, ensuring every tangle is gone before setting the brush on your sink.

The two of you make eye contact in the mirror, neither one wanting to break the silence during the surprisingly intimate moment.

You clear your throat, looking down after the silence got too intense, causing Nico to avert his eyes as well.

“I really wish i could wash my hair, but i know that’s a no go tonight,” you chuckle, wishing your bathroom was a little bit bigger in this moment.

“I can braid your hair for you,” Nico starts, staring at you in the mirror, watching your eyes snap up to meet his. “I mean, only if you want,” he stutters out.

“Really?” you ask him, a little stunned.

“Yeah. I used to help Nina with hers all the time when I was younger,” Nico mentions his older sister, grabbing your hair lightly and starting to section it off. “Anytime she would have a sleep over I would always weasel my way into the party. So one day, she made me sit in a braiding chain and learn how to braid her hair.”

You let out a giggle, picturing a smaller version of Nico sitting at the end of a line of girls, braiding their long hair.

“Then, Nina claimed I got so good at it she always wanted me to braid her hair before her volleyball matches, then her friends all started wanting me to do theirs, too,” he continues talking, nearly lulling you to sleep with the soft movements of his hands as you listen to him speak.

“I think that’s adorable,” you quietly speak, closing your eyes.

“What can I say? When a pretty girl needs her hair braided, who am I to keep my skills to myself?” he jokes, making you wonder if he meant you or his sister’s friends.

“I’m sure it’s any little boy’s dream to have an entire volleyball team at his mercy, all those pretty volleyball players begging him to play with their hair,” you tease him, handing him the hair tie that you always keep on your wrist.

“I don’t know, I think playing with a pretty photographer’s hair is better, if you ask me,” he ties the hair tie around the bottom of the braid, reaching up to pull the braid loose, making sure it’s not too tight.

You keep your eyes closed, knowing he can likely see the redness on your cheeks at his words.

“Alright, eyes open. Need to make sure you like my work,” he places his hands on your biceps, making sure to keep his touch feather light on your bad arm.

He turns you around so you’re facing him, holding a handheld mirror that was laying on your sink in front of your face, allowing you to see the reflection of the braid.

You’re shocked to see the flawless Dutch braid that cascades down your back.

“Nico, you’re like…really good at this,” you reach your good hand to the back of your head, running it down the braid.

“Told you, I had a lot of practice,” he shrugs, setting the mirror down.

You yawn, the relaxing nature of having your hair braided allowing you to realize how tired you are from the day’s events.

“Nuh-uh, gotta keep you awake until we get some food in you,” he tuts, taking his hands and patting your cheeks.

You groan, leaning into his palms that stay resting on your face.

“C’mon, let’s get you changed and on the couch,” he motions for you to leave the bathroom.

You walk to your room, Nico helping you carefully remove your sling before leaving and giving you some privacy.

You change into your pajamas, somehow managing to get your arm into an oversized Devils shirt you found at the bottom of your drawer.

Nico is standing outside of your door when you open it, helping you back into your sling.

He stands in front of you, staring at you with a look that you can’t decipher.

“Is…everything okay?” you question him, noticing his stare after adjusting your sling.

His eyes snap up to you, seemingly unaware that he was even staring at you in the first place.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I just- is that my shirt?” he asks you, pointing to your pj shirt.

You look down at the oversized shirt, trying to think of where you got it.

It had just showed up in your laundry basket one day, assuming it was one they gave you when you got your job, but Nico’s question makes you think harder.

You realize, suddenly, you do remember where you got it.

During one of your post lesson dinners, Nico had spilled his drink all over his shirt. You offered to wash it for him after he changed to a shirt in his duffel.

You meant to take it back to him after you washed it, but forgot about it entirely, packing it away in your pajama drawer.

“Oh, crap, it is. Do you want it back, I can go change?” you ask him, worried he’s upset that you forgot to give it back.

“No…no it’s fine. Keep it. I have plenty,” he shakes his head, glancing down at it once more.

The two of you make your way to your couch, finding something to watch on tv when there’s a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of your food.

You start to stand to go get it, but Nico sternly tells you to stay put.

Rolling your eyes you sit back down, grabbing the remote and continuing to channel surf.

Nico’s gone for longer than you expect, causing you to sit up and turn back towards your kitchen, wondering what’s taking him so long.

You see him walking over to you, a tray full of food in his hands.

He had ordered from your favorite sushi place, figuring it would be the easiest for you to eat one handed.

As he sat down the tray on the coffee table in front of you, you realized what took him so long.

Nico had put a toothpick in each piece of your sushi, knowing using chopsticks with your non dominant hand would have been hard for you. He poured soy sauce into a small container, allowing you to simply pick up each toothpick and dip it in the sauce before popping it in your mouth.

He had also ordered you a bottle of cherry coke, which he knew was your favorite, and placed it on the tray with the lid unscrewed and a straw peeking out of the bottle next to a glass of ice, just incase you wanted it that way instead.

You looked up at him, feeling that funny feeling in your chest like you did earlier in your kitchen, blown away at how he always seems to think of everything he can to help you out, even when you’re not injured.

You must’ve been looking for longer than you realized, because he cocks his head at you, confusion present on his face.

“What?” he asks, not understanding what’s wrong. “Did you not want sushi? I thought you said it was always the one thing that could cheer you up?”

You shake your head at him. “No, sushi is perfect,” you tell him, a small smile on your face as you look up at him.

He smiles back for a few moments, then started scooting the coffee table towards you so you don’t have to reach to grab your food. He moves around the table to sit beside of you, the size of the small table causing him to sit so close to you that you can feel the warmness of his large thigh against yours.

You once again think about all of the things he’s done for you without you even having to ask. Now including coming over after a game—no doubt exhausted and sore—and taking care of you without even thinking twice. Braiding your hair and calling you pretty. Staring at you unintentionally wearing his t-shirt. Modifying your food so it’s easier for you to eat with one hand.

You sit there, staring at the man you fear you’re falling in love with, already planning out the apology text you’re going to have to send your mom.

[pathologicalreid]

the space between us | S.R.

previously

The adjustment between never being home and always being home seems to take a toll on you.

who? spencer reid x fem!retired!reader category: flangst content warnings: the events of stuck between a rock and a hard place apply, briefly mentions a baby, reader trying to cope with a 180-turn in life, anxiety word count: 2.16k a/n: i meant for this to be fluff and it's definitely a tad angsty. good thing i'm obsessed with spencer and retired!reader. they'll be back.

Slowly but surely, you convinced yourself that the dark green walls of the apartment were closing in on you. Sitting up in bed, you looked at the time on your phone before quickly scrolling through the notifications, half expecting a text from Andi Swann asking you to come in.

She wouldn’t do that though, because she’s not your Unit Chief anymore, and you no longer work for the FBI.

The only text message you saw that piqued your interest was from your husband, letting you know that he was flying home.

Tossing your blanket off of your legs, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. Hissing at the feeling of the cold hardwood floors beneath your bare feet, you wrapped your arms around yourself and made way for the kitchen. Creeping slowly on your way, you made sure to keep your footsteps light.

Gingerly, you flipped the light on, wincing as the fluorescence flooded your vision. As your eyes adjusted, you reached up to the cabinet, grabbed a cup, and set it on the counter.

“You’re sneaking around again,” a voice said from behind you.

Jumping, you put a hand over your chest and spun around, “You scared the shit out of me.” You frowned at Spencer, “I thought you were flying home. I just got your text.”

He nodded, walking into the warm light of the kitchen, “I texted you four hours ago that I was flying home from Connecticut.” His hair was messy, and he had already taken his contacts out, telling you that he had been in the bathroom – he had passed by you while you were sleeping.

Your lips tightened to form a small “o”. Leaning back against the counter, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “How was Hartford?”

Intently, you watched Spencer as he pushed his glasses up on his nose. “It was fine, the UnSub’s in custody, we’ll build the rest of the case from Quantico.” His tone was strictly no-nonsense when he repeated himself, “You’re sneaking around again.”

Letting your arms fall to your sides, you shrugged helplessly. “I don’t do it consciously, you know?” You told him, reaching behind your back to hoist yourself up so you’re sat on the kitchen counter, legs dangling in the air.

“I know,” he said gently, stepping forward so that he was standing directly in front of you. You parted your knees so that he could stand flush with the counter, allowing for minimal space between the two of you. “The fact that you’re doing it subconsciously makes me wonder if there’s a part of you that feels like you need to be quiet in the apartment,” he murmured, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You pursed your lips for a moment, thinking about an answer before you responded, “It’s late, I don’t want to bother anyone by walking too loudly.”

Based on the look in his eyes, you can tell that he doesn’t believe you, “It’s an old building, the floors are thick and well insulated. Also, the apartment below us is vacant, and you know that.” His words are borderline accusatory, and rightfully so. “Do you feel safe here?”

Surprised, your eyes flittered up to meet his, “Yes,” you answered almost instantaneously.

“Do you not feel at home here?” He asked, further pressing his agenda.

When you and Spencer decided to move in together, you were living in a studio apartment, so his place just felt like the obvious choice. At the time, you weren’t home long enough to make it home, and now it seemed like you were past the point of no return. “Can we go to bed?” You asked softly.

Spencer tenderly placed his hands on either side of your waist, “You’re deflecting. What’s so wrong that you don’t feel like you can talk to me, baby?” You should’ve known better than to answer a question with a question.

Averting your eyes, you looked up at the ceiling in hopes that the action would quell the tears that were filling your waterline. “I just feel so out of place,” you answered, emotion closing your throat.

“In the apartment?” He whispered softly.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you shook your head. Giving up on your dreams of stopping your tears, you bowed your head and let them fall. “In my life,” you clarified. “I thought it would be easy to just go from being an undercover agent to being at home. Maybe that was a lost cause, but I didn’t think it’d be so hard.”

Never wavering, Spencer stayed resilient with you as the dam broke, letting you lean your head on his shoulder and rubbing soothing circles on your back as you cried. “You’re going through one hell of an adjustment period right now.”

Nodding tearfully, you pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes, “I feel like I haven’t been a real person in almost ten years. I don’t know who I am without that fucking job and it’s mauling me.” Briefly, Spencer stepped away from you, filling the cup that you had gotten out with water and handing it to you. “God, I’m a disaster. I’m so sorry,” you muttered, looking down at the glass of water you’d clasped in both hands.

“You are not a disaster,” he insisted. “You’re going through an unfathomable experience and you’re not giving yourself enough leeway,” he stressed, hooking a finger beneath your chin, and lifting your head.

Everything about him seemed soft, and you felt like pieces of broken glass – flying around and damaging everything in sight. You lifted the glass in your shaky hands, bringing the lip of the cup to your own and downing half of its contents.

Spencer studied your facial expression before he spoke again, “I know exactly who you are. You are the single most selfless person I have ever met,” he told you earnestly. “You spent nine years of your life rescuing tens of thousands of people, giving up holidays and birthdays and time with loved ones for the benefit of total strangers.”

Sniffling, you shook your head, “Spence,”

“No, this is true, and I need you to listen to me,” he urged. “One time, you had gotten back from five weeks undercover and, before catching up on sleep, you went to Henry’s birthday party. Solely because you had missed it the year before.” Hesitating for a moment, he resumed singing your praises, “You’re brilliant and funny and beautiful, but I need you to stop being so magnanimous.”

You pulled back, furrowing your brows in innate confusion, “What?”

He nodded, affirming his point. “I need you to be selfish. Operate with your self-interest in mind. Use that to discover yourself. If you keep throwing pieces of yourself away in order to make the people around you happy, then you’ll never really identify your adult self.”

“I don’t know where to start,” you confessed. You were always working; the FBI was your life. “Everyone is telling me to do different things,” you murmured. Spencer wanted you to be selfish, your mother wanted you to have a baby, and every single one of your friends had offered their stress relief methods – most of them unsolicited.

The understanding in his expression made your chest ache, “I think you should talk to someone. Not me, not Garcia, definitely not your mom, but a professional. You should talk your experiences out with someone who can help you work through it, not just like you do with me. I know you hold back details when it’s with me.”

Uncertain, you tried to wrap your arms around yourself again, but Spencer didn’t let you close yourself off. “Okay,” you ventured, “I’ll look into it.”

Putting his hands up, he smiled softly at you, “That’s all I ask.” He stepped back, allowing you to get off of the counter and stand. Spencer gently ushered you into the living room, sitting down next to you on the couch.

Instinctively, you leaned into his warmth as he draped an arm over your shoulders. “I need a hobby. Something to do other than sit at home all day,” you thought aloud.

“We can look for ideas in the morning,” Spencer offered. “Maybe we can go to the store this weekend for supplies.”

Turning your head to face him, you pressed your lips into a thin white line, “Hey, Spence?”

He hummed, “Yes, love?”

“We could get a house,” you proposed. “It could be a good new start for the both of us, and we have the money,” the more you spoke about it, the more you liked the idea. A new start for the new you. Technically, the two of you were still newlyweds, it felt like something you were supposed to do. “We wouldn’t have to keep your books on the floor anymore,” you murmured, absentmindedly drawing shapes on his t-shirt with your index finger.

Your eyes flickered up to see him smiling. “We absolutely can get a house, and you won’t have to tip-toe,” he said pointedly, “it’ll be our space.”

Mirroring his smile, you adjusted slightly on the couch, “Our house.”

As you tucked your feet underneath yourself, you felt his eyes on you, “Are you sleeping alright?”

Groaning, you wiped a hand down your face, “You worry too much. We were doing so well.”

“Did you know that your coping mechanism is avoidance?” He remarked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, “I sleep fine,” you answered simply. It was true, once you were asleep, you slept perfectly fine until the morning. It was falling asleep that you had a hard time with, lying awake and wondering if when you finally fell asleep you would be greeted by nightmares. Nightmares that you had been waiting weeks for but had yet to come. “Let’s uh… let’s call it a problem for the professional,” you faltered.

He nodded understandingly, “You just let me know if there’s anything you need, okay? Anything at all.”

Allowing your body to meld into his, you hummed, “How are you doing with all of this?”

“I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night, just to make sure you’re still breathing,” he confessed. Adjusting his glasses, he pulled you a little closer to him. “I’ve seen you more in the past six weeks than I had the previous year, and, selfishly, I’m glad that we get more time together.”

With one hand, you reached up and cupped his cheek with your palm, “I am too, love. It’s new, even though we’ve been together for years, I think we’re lucky to have something that feels new.”

He turned his head to press a kiss to the center of your palm before taking your hand in his, “I think I’m lucky to have you.”

“Sweet talker,” you teased lightly.

You nudged him gently when he went quiet. “I love having you be at home when I get home,” he whispered as if it was a secret. “I suppose I never really thought much of it because it always seemed like an unattainable fantasy.”

But now you were home when he came home. He took time off to spend with you right after you had gotten out of the hospital, but for the past six weeks, every time he walked in the door, you were around. It was almost like the two of you had entered your honeymoon phase. Although, you supposed you had, “Did anyone ask you about the party?”

Spencer chuckled, “Of course they did.”

Part of you supposed it was your penance for getting married in secret – mostly secret, everyone always seemed to forget that Rossi was there – that the BAU was insistent on giving the two of you a wedding. “I never knew profilers had such great memories,” you pondered. “No one else asks me about it.”

“They just want to make sure you’re alright before turning it into a celebration,” he explained. “For the BAU, taking a step back is a big deal,” he leaned his head to the side so that his chin was resting on the top of your head, “you know that, though.”

Nodding softly, you shut your eyes, “I don’t suppose they’d be willing to do a combo housewarming and wedding celebration.”

“Not a chance,” Spencer answered almost a bit too quickly.

You sighed in mock defeat, “We’ll just have to have a party a weekend until Garcia runs out of ideas.”

Slowly, you felt yourself falling asleep again, “Do you want to go to bed?” Spencer murmured.

There was just a moment before you hummed, “In a minute.” You pulled on the sleeves of your sweatshirt so they would cover your hands, “Hey, Spence?”

“Hm?” He said, drowsiness growing in his voice.

You tipped your head back and looked up at him, “I love being home when you get home, too.”

please remember to like, comment, and/or reblog if you enjoyed!

[01zfan]

rainy day | l. at

ex!anton x reader | 5.8k words

anton brainrot is literally so real you guys im a victim.

contains: breaking up, resolution, oral (fem. receiving), missionary, soft dom anton if you squint, reader is a pillow princess (good for her)

it was one of the few days during summer where everyone stayed inside. the usual cool breeze that came with the season was replaced with harsh winds that could knock anyone over. the clear sky was replaced with clouds and soon a rain that threatened to flood your city would come. 

you loved when it rained. the inclement weather gave you an excuse to stay home and lay in bed all day. you wanted to use this day to recharge—your social battery had been running dangerously low since summer had started. you don’t know if it was because of your recent breakup and everyone taking pity on you but suddenly everyone had plans once it got warmer outside. it didn’t help that your roommate was a dj. giselle spent more time outside than in the apartment, various clubs being her place of work. and being giselle’s roommate came with its perks, you automatically getting to skip the lines to get in because you “know somebody”. you made it your personal mission to exercise this benefit almost every night.

being outside took your mind off the breakup. you couldn’t hear anton’s voice when music blasted in your ears or think about him when you were dancing around. you loved being out, but it started weighing heavy on your bones. between work and seeing your friends, you had been out almost everyday for the past month. you were grateful when you saw that a big storm was coming, like the weather gods wanted you to have a day off. 

you don’t remember the last time you were able to lay in bed past 10AM. you wanted to thank the rain that pelted your window and the wind that made your apartment building creak. because of it you got to be underneath the comfort of your sheets. giselle must’ve felt the same way, because this was the first time you had seen her in pajamas relaxing on the couch. you found her laying on the couch in the living room when you went to the kitchen to get some food.

“any plans for today?” you asked giselle sarcastically.

giselle laughed and looked from the television to you.

“probably gonna work on some mixes for upcoming sets.” giselle says. 

she turns back on her show and the sound of the television fills the room. you hum in acknowledgment as you open the fridge. you grab some leftovers to put in the microwave. after getting your food you head towards the couch and giselle lets her legs rest on the coffee table so you can sit down.

“grateful for a day off.” you sigh contently.

“oh i bet. you’re like a little party animal now.” giselle laughed.

you sat with giselle for a little bit before retiring back to your bed. giselle did the same as you about half an hour later. you could hear the television in the living room shut off followed by the sound of your roommate closing her door. soon after you could hear the low sound of music coming from giselle’s room as she went through several tracks.

you let yourself relax in bed as rain continued to fall. it came down sideways and in sheets, and you knew it would only be getting worse for the rest of the day. 

as you looked outside at the rain, it was hard to not start thinking about anton. when your mind got the chance to slow down, you couldn’t stop it from thinking about him. he loved when it rained too, and loved napping the day away with you too. you had stopped crying about the breakup a long time ago; you knew that first loves were meant to fail. but if you thought about anton for too long or how warm he always felt you could feel a hole start to form in your chest. so you did your best to clear your thoughts and treated the weather outside and giselle’s music as white noise before drifting to sleep.

anton was in your dreams often. you thought it was always unfair how he occupied your mind so heavily he managed to infiltrate your subconscious and dreams. after the breakup it only got worse. sometimes you would dream about him curled up next to you, getting up from the bed just to come right back to you. he would always snuggle into you closely and pull you into his chest. you would dream about him being the little spoon, laughing at how your arms wrapped around his large frame. you would dream about him turning you around to make you the little spoon, bringing a warm hand to trace shapes over your stomach. the mind was an evil thing. there were times when you would wake up in the middle of the night thinking it was real, that anton had come back to you in the middle of the night. but the vacant space on your bed was still empty and cold when you opened your eyes.

although it was painful dreaming about anton when he was no longer in your life, you truthfully wouldn’t have it any other way. you loved dreaming about you two laying on beds of gold or in a meadow running around in the tall grass. the dreams were usually pure and shrouded in a deeper meaning that you couldn’t decipher. but sometimes the dreams were less innocent. this time when you dreamed about anton you dreamed of him above you and panting into your ear while his strong chest was pressed against yours. you could hear the faintest whisper of his voice in your ear and you could see his wet hair sticking to his forehead. you dreamed about anton’s hands holding your hips down and you leaving marks down his back while you took all of him, his dangling chain above your eyes. just as your lips were reaching towards his ear to say something your brain suddenly woke you up, making you shoot up in your bed. 

it felt like you woke up from a nightmare the way your body felt all clammy. your chest heaved and you shot a quick look to the empty side of your bed. moving so suddenly didn’t help either and you could feel a headache coming on as your eyes adjusted to the darkness in your room. 

after gaining some of your bearings you reached to your bedside table to check the time on your phone. it was eight in the evening. giselle hadn’t stopped mixing her songs, music still coming from her room. you sighed and stretched, not sure how you felt about sleeping the whole day away. 

following the aftershocks of your dreams, it was impossible to not think about anton. you regretfully think about him, if he is sleeping right now or if he dreams of you the same way you dream of him. he’s only a phone call or a twenty minute walk in the rain away. you decide against it, the thought of not getting a response scares you away from your phone.

you get out of bed and stretch your limbs again, you can’t deny that the rest was much needed. maybe you would watch something and eat until you got tired again. it would give you time to process your dream, maybe if you thought about it enough you could have another one like that again. 

as you round the corner of you room to go into the kitchen you stop dead in your tracks.

you know it’s anton before he turns around. after spending so much time with him, you could probably identify him from his hair, or his voice. you see one of the most obvious of anton’s traits—his broad back that is covered with one of your towels. even if something covers his back you can tell it’s him by muscle memory, something you’re sure will never leave you. but you also know it’s him because who else would be sitting at your kitchen island this late at night. you still can’t control the shock in your voice as you call out his name.

“anton?” you say.

he turns around quickly to face you and his eyes go wide. anton has always been so expressive, every emotion shows on his face in an instant. he gets up from his chair like a reflex but he says nothing, just looking at you from across the room.

“what are you doing here?” you ask. 

anton still looks at you without saying anything. it’s like your speech is delayed getting to anton, because it takes him almost five seconds before he swallows to answer your question. during the time it takes for him to speak you see a bouquet of the flowers you like laying on the kitchen island.

“i was riding my bike and i was coming to get the rest of my stuff but i got caught in the rain,” anton swallows again. “giselle let me in.”

anton points to your roommates closed door. it would makes sense that giselle would hear him, she must’ve stayed awake the whole day. music still plays in her room as you turn back to anton.

you are both met with more silence. you know that you should probably kick him out, or scold him for showing up at his ex girlfriends house unannounced. it’s hard to be mad at anton because he used to show up like this when you two were just friends, popping in just to hang out. and you do remember that you both promised the other that nothing would change if you two broke up. it was a lie then and you knew it. you wondered if anton knew it too. you could assume he did by the clenching knuckles at his side, or how he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“i tried to get home i really did but—” anton said.

now it was time for you to clear your throat and reach a hand out to him.

“no i prefer you stay here until the storm dies down.” you say.

you have to force yourself to remember that this isn’t a dream, that anton is real and standing in your kitchen. you want to be a good host and offer him food or ask him if he’s okay but all the words are caught in your throat. instead you gesture to the living room, showing anton it’s okay to step into your apartment further.

you’re sure that his ears tucked into his beanie turn red as he walks over you. he’s slow with his steps, like you’ll change your mind at any moment. you can still hear giselle music coming from her room as you go to sit on the couch.

when anton comes to the opposite end, his eyes find yours. he’s looking to you the whole time, waiting for you to give him the permission to be close to you. anton has always been too nice for his own good, letting you make all the moves and initiatives in the relationship. so he waits for you to nod at him before sitting down on the couch too.

you focus on the sound of rain and giselle’s house music as you look to anton. he looks the same except for his hair that has gotten a little longer. the necklace you got him for his birthday is still around his neck, rested on his chest. you tried not to look at the pendant too hard, because then your eyes would wander to the black shirt that clung to his chest. your mind flashes back to the dream you had of and you have to lightly shake your head to get rid of the image.

“how are things?” he ask you.

you hate that this is what your relationship with anton has come to. he used to be the person you were must comfortable around but now he sits on the opposite end of your couch asking you questions you both know the answer to.

“things are good.” you say. 

you think about telling him everything would be better if you guys got back together. you hold it back by picking at the hem of your shorts.

“what about you?” you ask. 

you can barely bring yourself to look at anton. you see that he isn’t looking at you either, his eyes focused on your hand that is holding the bottom of your pants. when you move your hand, his eyes stay there as he says nothing.

“i miss you.” anton says. “so much.”

you can feel the couch give underneath anton’s weight as he comes closer to you. the couch dips from you, almost causing your body to lean into anton’s. he bends down to be in your line of sight. you’re forced to look into his large brown eyes as he looks for something in your eyes.

“you miss me too, right?” anton says.

his hands reach for yours and you let him grab them. he squeezes his hands in your palms and you still have to remind yourself this isn’t a dream. anton continues to look at your face while massaging your hands. it keeps you there with him and you know he knows the answer to the question.

“we aren’t together anymore anton.” you whisper.

you know you should pull your hands away, maybe even tell him to leave your apartment. but you can’t bring yourself to do anything to him while he looks at you like that.

“that doesn’t matter. do you even remember why we broke up?” anton asks.

you shake your head; you truthfully can’t remember. you’re sure it was something stupid, something that easily could be fixed. you both were clumsy throughout the whole relationship, so confused why everything felt so different from when you were friends. maybe you two got tired of stumbling through the motions of everything and called it off. but the way anton looks at you makes you want to take everything back and make you try again.

“i want to try again.” anton says.

he shakes your hands slightly to really give emphasis to his words. maybe you keep dreaming about him because you should try again, maybe that’s what your subconscious has been telling you.

“i’ll have to think about it.” you say while nodding slightly.

anton responds to you by smiling. you can’t help but smile too, and you can feel tears that threaten to fall from all the emotions going through you. you can’t stop yourself from bringing anton in for a hug. he pauses only for a second before hugging you back twice as hard. you are happy you’re able to stop yourself from sobbing onto anton’s shirt, but you almost lose it when he rubs up and down your back gently. you go deeper into the crook of his neck and he holds you a little tighter.

“i came in the rain on my bike to be all romantic with flowers but you were knocked out.” anton says into your shoulder.

you start laughing loudly, the image of anton peddling on his dingy little bike through torrential rain. anton finds it funny too, he starts laughing as he goes into the details of him almost driving into a ditch while trying to get to you.

you know you’re both laughing too hard when you hear the music in giselle’s room shut off. you realize that she is basically at her job right now, and you and your ex ex-boyfriend are disturbing her. so you get up from the couch and motion for anton to follow you. he gets up from the couch and rubs his palms on the front of his pants. suddenly he’s the shy anton again, so different from the bold anton that told you he wants to get back together.

anton follows you into your room and you close the door behind him. you don’t move again until you hear giselle’s music turn back on.

you laid down on the bed first. anton stayed in front of your closed door, looking at the you laying on the bed. you can make out his figure even in the darkness of your room, broad and almost as tall as your doorframe. even in your dreams anton doesn’t look this good. you don’t beat away the image of him above with a stick this time, instead you welcome them with open arms as you tap the empty space on your bed.

you watch anton come over to the bed, stopping so he can take off his beanie and jewelry to set on your dresser. it’s just like old times, hearing the familiar sound of his rings landing on the ceramic dish. you wonder if he’ll take off his shirt too. he keeps it on as he lays on the opposite side of your bed.

he didn’t dare to move any closer to you, staying on the other end. you wish you could fold the covers and bring him closer to you, or have anton pull you into his chest like he always did when he spent the night. he was too nice to do move any further, and you realized that nothing would happen if you didn’t make a move first. so you swallowed whatever was holding you back and let your hand glide across the cold sheets towards anton. he turned towards you almost immediately and his hand grabbed your bicep.

anton first lightly tugged your body towards him twice. it was gentle and inviting like he always was. you scooted your body to anton’s, moving only a little across the sheets that separated you two. anton then exerted some of his strength o pull you the rest of the way, wrapping his other arm around your body to bring you into his chest. you laughed at how fast he pulled you across the covers as he tucked your head underneath his chin. he brought his hand that was on your arm to the back of your head—it had been too long since anton surrounded you like this. you nuzzled into his neck and sighed contently. 

“we should probably move slow” he said. you could hear the smile on his face.

you hummed in agreement but then moved closer into him. he wrapped his arms tighter around you before kissing your cheek. it was quick and light before anton tucked your head underneath his chin again. you weren’t shocked by the kiss, you were actually beaming at the feeling of his lips on your skin again.

you weren’t sure when you fell back asleep, but it was hard to not doze off with anton like a weighted blanket on you. you could feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours, and hear his quick heartbeat slow down overtime. it was an inexplicable comfort having him behind you and to feel his arms wrapped around your frame.

you didn’t wake up again until well after midnight. the rain still fell and the wind still blew harshly. you woke up in anton’s amrs, curled into his chest to be the little spoon. you had turned at some point during the night, and anton’s hand rested on your stomach to gently trace shapes on your exposed skin. you don’t know how it was possible to miss someone so much. 

you turned your body to face anton’s. you found that he was already awake, looking into your eyes with the same look you dreamed about. you closed your eyes as he placed a wet kiss on your cheek. his eyes are still bleary, you imagine he must have woken up around the same time you did. you brush some of his hair out of his face and let him leave a wet kiss on your lips.

“what time is it?” you ask.

“not sure. has to be pretty late though.” he says.

anton sounds distracted as he talks to you. his eyes are on your lips as he puts a hand behind your back so your body arches into him. you can feel how broad and solid anton’s chest is underneath the thin material of his shirt. you lean more into him and instinctively wrap your leg over his to bring him closer. you wrap your arms around his back to press your palms flat on his shoulders. 

“i thought you wanted to move slow?” anton says. 

he places another wet kiss to your lips before pulling back. you missed the smirk he got on his face when he knew you wanted it. it made you bashful, heat spawning from the places his body touched yours. it blossomed from the small of your back and spread to your finger tips that pressed against anton’s back. the feeling made you lock your leg in place, bringing anton even closer to you.

“we can move slow tomorrow.” you say hastily.

anton comes back to your lips, and you waste no time pushing your tongue into his mouth. anton must be just as desperate as you are the way he lifts you up like you weigh nothing. he almost crushed you in his arms, you have to tap on his shoulder to remind him of his strength.

“sorry.” anton whispers after pulling away from your lips.

his lips are plump and glossy, you run your tongue over yours to try and taste what’s left of him on your skin. you missed kissing his lips until they were red and a little swollen and the way he’d gather you up in your arms when you two made out. you try to get on top of anton but he uses a hand to keep you in place. you let out a little whine at not being able to move, you wanted to show anton how much you really missed him.

anton sits up on your bed to pull his shirt off. he does it with one hand and while he is busy taking off his pants you start to take off your own. as you lift your hips to take off your pants anton stops suddenly.

“wait. don’t move.” he says shyly.

you listen to his weird request, not moving while anton takes off his pants. 

when his pants hit the floor anton guides your body to sit up. you do as he says, eyeing him to see what his plan is with you.

“put your arms up.” anton tells you.

his sweet and quiet voice betrays the authoritative words. you listen to him regardless, filling to the brim with excitement of anton telling you what to do.

you lift your arms as anton pulls up your shirt. he does all the work even guiding your arms through the opening of your shirt. anton looks up at you from your collarbone, placing a wet kiss on the taut skin as his hands go to your bra strap. you nod and anton brings both of his hands to your back to unclasp your bra. he is gentle releasing your chest from its confines, his big hands covering the area of your breasts. 

no matter how many times anton sees your breasts, his breath is taken away each time. he kneads your doughy skin, lightly gripping a boob to place a kiss directly on the areola. anton missed your content sighs and breathless whimpers when he does things to you. he missed seeing your face crease with pleasure, the way you prop yourself on your arms and lean your head back to feel everything. 

“i missed holding you.” he whispers.

anton can’t stop himself from taking a nipple into your mouth. you instantly arch your chest into his mouth, your free hand petting his head.

“i dreamed about this.” you whimper when anton goes to the other breast. 

anton guides your body back down to lay on the bed. you lay your head on the pillow, looking down at anton as he trails kisses down your body.

“should’ve called me.” anton says, smiling into your stomach.

you can’t bring yourself to tell him why you couldn’t, something stupid as pride keeping you from feeling pure bliss as anton takes your shorts off. he lifts your hips off the bed all on his own, any more you try to make anton puts a gentle hand on your stomach to keep you in place.

“let me show you how sorry i am.” anton says.

he looks at you with sincerity as he continues pressing kisses to your body. he works down one leg and works his way up the other, even kissing your feet earnestly. anton makes eye contact with you as he presses a kiss to your folds. the contact alone has you lifting your hips off of the bed, trying to chase after the kiss. anton puts a hand underneath your ass to lift your bottom off the bed. you bend your knees until your thighs lightly press against the sides of anton’s head. you are still reeling from the dream you had, you know you won’t last long. 

just from the kisses anton gives your pussy you’re lightheaded, gripping the sheets trying not to lose your composure too fast. it’s a lost cause when anton looks up at you again as his thumb starts rubbing your bundle of nerves.

“my little princess,” anton whispers. “you’re sensitive?”

you whimper in response and nod your head. anton sticks his thick middle finger inside of you, bending it once he’s inside all the way. you open your mouth in a silent moan, lifting your hips off the bed even more. anton places a kiss on your thigh.

“just lay there for me,” anton says. “i got you.”

“okay.” you whimper.

anton’s soft voice completely opposes his lewd actions. the way he takes his finger out of you to spread your folds apart. you can barely manage to look down at him as he makes work of your heat, on his hands and knees to get closer inside of you. his nose bumps your clit as he eats you out, alternating between making out with your pussy and sticking his tongue in your slit.

“feels so good anton.” you whimpered. when he hums into your pussy your legs close in on him, locking him in place. “i missed you so much.”

anton starts eating you out with a new vigor. the sound of him slurping and placing sloppy kisses on your cunt fills the room. you can’t stop you hips from bucking into his mouth and anton welcomes it. he guides your legs to rest over his shoulder and sits up slightly on the bed. anton uses his strength to bring your lower half up with him. you can’t stop yourself from grind on anton’s tongue while his arm behind your ass supports your weight. his free hand reaches out to yours and you let go of your hold on the sheets to grip his hand. you are moaning loudly, watching anton watch you. 

he is entranced by your tiny cries and the way your heels dig into his back. you look so beautiful like this, not having to do any of the work to get to your peak. anton loves the way you grip his hand with all of your strength. he wants to take a picture of this moment to remember it forever. he wishes he could take a video to immortalize your whiny voice.

“i’m close.” you say.

you turned your head from the bed to look at anton. he goes back to tongue kissing your slit, purposely using his nose to bump your bundle of nerves. this way he can stimulate you adn you can take up all of his five senses.

he loves the way you smell, the way your whole body tenses when you cum unannounced. anton thinks it must’ve hit you like a freight trin the way. you cried out his name and squeezed his head between your thighs. sound is lightly muffled through your plush skin, but he can hear you loud and clear. you will definitely have to apologize to giselle in the morning.

anton takes all of your slick, slurping and getting so messy to the point. that he can feel the dribble of spit mixed with your slick come down his chin. you body turns to jelly in his grasp, your legs becoming pliable. anton comes back down to the bed and guides your ass down slowly. 

your legs are flimsy and your knees unbend themselves, sliding down the covers of your bed. anton goes back on his haunches slotted between your legs, looking at you laid out for him like a five course meal.

anton is starving when he licks his lips, the glossy sheen of you still evident on his face. the intensity that he looks at you with has you squirming, and you can feel your body getting ready for a second round. you try sitting up, to grab anton’s hard member that bobs in the darkness of your room but a hand stops you.

anton keeps you down, but you can’t stop yourself from looking at him. the hand that pushed your shoulder back down goes to your slit, gathering slick from your orgasm. anton using the wetness to jerk himself off. you are enthralled by the sight, the way anton’s hair covers his eyes but you can still feel his hard gaze. his breath comes out in huffs as he picks up the speed and muscles underneath his taut skin move in tandem with his hand. his body looks so large from this angle, the way looks down at you while beating his dick. you don’t know how much control anton wants tonight, but you can’t stop yourself from using a hand to grip your breast.

anton increasing the pace tells you that he likes it. your massage the supple skin the same way anton does, the same way he does it to you in your dreams. it’s the real deal when he leans his body over, his hand falling beside your head. 

he still beats his dick while he’s above you. his chain jumps from the inertia of the action and you can’t choose between looking at anton or his necklace.

“what do you dream about?” anton murmurs.

“us running around together in a meadow.” you say truthfully.

“what else?” anton asks.

his hand thaat was jerking himself off went back to your clit. he puts two fingers in, making you listen to the low squelching sound of your arousal already coming back. 

“i dream about you fucking me, too.” you say.

that’s all anton needs to hear before guiding his dick to your heat. he goes down to his elbow beside your head and in one swift motion you bring your hands to his back and wrap your legs around his waist.

anton is just as big as you remember. you have never felt this full before, your walls clamping around him before he can bottom out. anton loses some of his strength at the way you’re already milking him. his large sweaty frame presses against your chest and you welcome it. your breasts are squished against him, both of you moaning in ecstasy.

“i missed you so much.” anton says into the skin of your neck. 

you can practically feel his face heating up and you can imagine his flushed face as he gives you another slow thrust. you think you’re close again already. when anton gives you a deep thrust your nails dig into the expanse of his back.

“i missed you too.” you say.

anton focuses on hitting you deep and slow. he hits the spot in the back of you that you both discovered together—the spot that leaves you clenching and anton twitching inside of you.

“just like this?” anton says, hitting the same spot again.

“just like that.” you whine.

anton spends time hitting that spot over and over again. he kisses any part of your body his lips can reach before turning your head to give you a kiss on the lips. 

his other hand hold your hips done. his strength brings you pain, the type you revel in. you let anton forget his own strength as he continues to fuck you into the mattress, his slow and hard thrust making you bed creak rhythmically.

you can feel anton getting close to his peak, feeling him get closer has you hurtling towards the edge as well. you move one hand from his back to grip his arm, your nails digging into the flexed muscle. something about seeing someone so big and strong fall apart above you has you clenching uncontrollably around anton’s dick.

you break apart from anton’s lips to look down between the middle of your squished bodies. anton does the same, lifting his body so you can see where you two meet. you rest your sweaty foreheads against eachother to watch the show.

“i’m close.” anton whimpers.

“me too.” you say back.

“where can i—” anton’s voice is broken up by pleasure, trying to keep it together for as long as possible.

“inside me. please.”

“alright baby.” anton says.

he brings his chest back down to yours, and he brings an arm underneath your body to bring you close. you’re surrounded by him, nails rake down anton’s back as he picks up the speed.

anton whimpers your name into your ear before pulling back to look you in the eyes. he curses from your blown out pupils and the way your walls close in around him. anton grips your shoulder as he spills into you. you milk him dry, the sensation of him throbbing pushes you off the edge again. you pushed off into anton’s arms as your legs around his waist pulls him in. you grind into him when his hips still, loving the sound of anton inside of you. he whines and laughs a little from the overstimulation, his whole body sensitive. 

you still move you hips until anton pulls out of you. you can feel his cum dripping from you and you fight the urge to push it back in. anton’s large body loses its strength above you, pressing your body into the mattress. he catches his breath in the crook of your neck, hot puffs of air fanning your skin. 

you let anton’s large body crush you a little more. you missed him so much you would risk the suffocation. when anton’s breath finally steadies, you tap his back. anton understands immediately, picking his head up from your neck.

“oh my god i’m sorry.” anton says.

he slides off of you to lay beside you on the bed. you waste no time turning to him. now you’re the one tracing shapes on his chest. anton turns to you and smiles. 

the rain outside is almost as comforting as the feeling of anton pulling you back into him. you doze off to sleep again, this time knowing you’ll be waking up to anton next to you.

[veryberryjelly]

hold on

carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary : reader reveals to carmen that she has a hard relationship with food.

a/n ; content warnings for disordered eating, throwing up, talks of disordered eating. i am not romanticising eating disorders !! loooong boy. 1.2k words

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

you never thought this would have been an issue.

you had never been in a relationship long enough for it to be important.

but 3 months.

you had to tell him.

but you had no idea where to start with admitting it.

somehow in the three months of dating carmen you had managed to avoid any conversation relating to your issues.

you had been out to dinner a few times, but every time you managed to find something easy or small.

and if you weren't able to do that, you had gotten good at making a plate look like you had eaten some if not most of it.

the issue only really came to a head when you had arranged to stay over at carmen's place after he cooked for the both of you.

you had been stressing over it for the last two days about something so simple as him cooking for you.

along with his insistence to keep it a secret what he was making, you were getting anxious about it.

your anxiety riddled mind was quietened when carmen opened the door to his apartment and your eyes met his.

the soft, relaxed smile on his lips mirrored onto your own.

" hey sweetheart, come in. dinner shouldn't be too long, just finishing up "

the mention of food brought almost all of your anxiety back.

you shut the door behind you as you walked in, setting your bag down on his couch as you headed towards the kitchen.

" gonna tell me what you're making yet ?" you questioned, keeping your voice level as you leant against the counter.

you could spot a few elements of the meal carmen was making, but none that would tell you what he was making.

you were almost relieved to spot a salad on the counter.

you might be able to get through this meal without feeling the urge to throw up.

" spaghetti bolognese "

two words that had your stomach falling.

carbs were very hard for you, but you couldn't not eat what carmen had cooked for you.

you took a slightly shuddering breath which was thankfully hidden from carmen as he tended to his sauce.

" sounds delicious "

thankfully, both of you talked through most of dinner, and it wasn't out of place for your fork to just rearrange your food instead of pick it up and eat it.

the few bites that you did take were mostly salad, apart from two initial bites of the pasta when you first sat down, which was hard to swallow.

after dinner you offered to do the dishes, practically insisting. you didn't want carmen to see how little of his food you had eaten.

he wouldn't let you do it all on your own and offered to at least dry up after you.

he didn't see the amount of food from your plate that ended up in the trash.

you definitely felt guilty about throwing it away, but you couldn't physically stomach the food or telling him after he made so much effort.

after you finished cleaning up the two of you were quick to retire to the couch for a movie.

carmen's arm wrapped around your shoulders and the steady beating of his heart underneath your ear wasn't enough to erase the burning feeling in your stomach or the gags you could feel climbing up your throat.

it got to the point where you couldn't take it anymore.

you muttered a quick excuse before rushing towards the bathroom.

you should've known that carmen would be hot on your heels the moment he heard you emptying your guts into the toilet.

you heard his voice behind you muttering a short string of curses when he opened the door.

the next thing you knew, his hands were swiftly collecting your hair from the base of your neck to keep it from getting messy.

after you had nothing more to give, you flushed the toilet and leant back to move away from it, only to be met with the solid feeling of carmen's chest against your back.

" 'm sorry. didn't mean to ruin your night " you muttered quietly, your eyes not lifting from your lap.

" baby, you didn't ruin anything. just want you to tell me why you're throwin' up after you barely ate anything "

a shiver of dread raced down your spine.

" thought maybe you just didn't like the food but now i'm thinking that something's wrong "

his voice was warm and comforting even if what he was saying was chilling you to your bones.

you had to tell him.

you began twisting the towel that carmy had handed you in your hands.

" what's going on, baby ?" he questioned, his hand lifting to brush some hair behind your ear as he dropped his head down onto your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss onto the fabric of your sweater.

you were silent for a few minutes, but carmen never pushed you to speak, only waited until you were ready.

" there's something wrong with me carmen... i- i hate feeling full. i can't eat like a normal person. i don't- " a sob wracked through your chest as you spoke.

carmen's arms wrapped tighter around you as tears began falling down your cheeks.

he held you there until the tears stopped, and even a little bit longer.

when he finally stood from the floor and walked out of the bathroom you thought he was done.

that he didn't want to deal with a girlfriend with these kids of issues, especially as a chef.

but when he returned a few moments later with your pyjamas and your toothbrush all of those feelings disappeared.

he delivered them to you with a kiss to your temple before he was back out again.

you didn't question him, or say anything, just brushed your teeth and washed your face before changing into your pyjamas, a pair of long pants and a t-shirt that carmen had given to you with 'the beef' logo on your chest.

after folding up your other clothes you padded out into his living room, keeping your head down as you put your clothes in your bag.

but you couldn't avoid it any longer.

you found carmen in the kitchen pouring hot water into two mugs from his cabinet.

you were only sat down for a moment before he came over with both mugs in his hand and slid one towards you.

chamomile.

your hands wrapped around the warm receptacle.

there were a few moments of silence before you heard the voice you found so much comfort in.

" why didn't you tell me ? " he questioned, his voice the farthest thing from accusational.

" didn't want to scare you off. most people go running when they find out. wanted to hold on a little bit longer " your voice was nothing more than a whisper and your eyes were burning into the mug of tea in your hands.

carmen wasted no time in moving around the counter to stand beside you, his hand moving to tilt your chin up and bring your gaze towards him.

" i'm not goin' anywhere, baby. but you gotta let me help. "

his thumb began moving against your cheekbone, and that simple action was all you needed before you wrapped your arms around his torso and buried your face into his t-shirt. his arms held you close to his chest.

" could you give me a ride to my therapists tomorrow ? "

" anything, baby "

[tthoughtdaughter]

the girl across the street.

pairing: fem!reader x loser!ellie

summary: you’ve decided to move into a little house on ellie’s street, she sees you and almost dies from your natural beauty. being the big ass nerd she is, she decides to help you but continues to stumble on her words. instead of her helping you guys sit in your backyard for a bit and talk for hours only to find out you’re very similar.

warnings: none just fluff and ellie being a big loser.

a/n: ive been writing part 2 for ‘bad habits’ just wanted to take a break from it and write something i wanted to for awhile :)

it was a beautiful sunny day, perfect for you to move actually. not to hot, not to cold, just right! you called the people and waited for them to come so they could pick up the boxes that were stacked in piles among piles in your parents house.

they came and you helped them with very little strength into the moving truck. (you js picked up the light boxes but the people appreciated it.) they offered a lift there but you politely declined and hopped into your car.

it wasn’t so hot, but you still felt the excessive need to put on the aircon. you turned up the volume as one of your favourite songs had just come on, opening the windows and turning off the aircon (since it would be such a waste).

the whole ride there was a vibe, you felt a little sad when you had to hop out but you were beyond excited to see what your new house awaited for you.

you’ve obviously seen the inside before when you were looking around, but you just adored the street, the house itself — everything about this place was just so welcoming and you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your time here.

you looked around as you hopped out, the moving truck had gotten here before you and they were already effortlessly lifting boxes into your house. you admired the little garden that you could build on out the front of your house. there were flowers everywhere, and it just looked beyond beautiful.

you genuinely couldnt believe you scored such a place. i mean apart from the rent being so expensive, you were still super happy.

you were talking to one of the moving people when you saw a glimpse of a very handsome girl staring at you through your window. jesus, you thought. you zoned out, completely out of it like literally not listening to whatever the guy was rambling on about. you were just staring right back at the mysterious, beautiful girl through her window.

she averted her attention from your lower half to your face and got extremely flustered after realising you were staring right back at her.

‘fuck, she totally saw you looking! stop being a fucking idiot ellie.’ she repeated over and over, turning around, crashing her palm into her forehead and falling backwards onto her bed.

you stifled a giggle and the man thought you were laughing at him. he full on side eyed you.

‘s—sorry! what was it you were saying?’ you smiled politely at him. you were an angel in disguise is what ellie thought. pretty face, hair, clothes, body..

you were the definition of perfect. now you probably thought ellie was a big loser.

you didnt, actually the complete opposite of a loser. you thought she was beautiful, charming even. though you two have never actually held a conversation before, you enjoyed the thought of talking to her.

ellie really really really wanted to invite you over, maybe bring something over to welcome you to the neighbourhood. but she had no idea how to cook properly or even bake, ellie doesnt know how she lives on her own. but it already looked like her next door neighbour, marjorie, was already bringing freshly baked cookies over.

fuck marjorie and her old woman cooking skills, there goes ellies chance. she watched you embrace marjorie with a warm hug, your enchanting smile plastered on your face. she swears if she ever catches marjorie bringing over anything else shes going to fully box her.

‘cant wait til’ that old bat goes into a retirement home.’ ellie spat. its not like marjorie is so innocent either, she constantly tells ellie to dress like a proper woman, whispering to all the other old women on the street about her being a so called ‘dyke’. yeah screw marjorie.

ellie rolled her eyes and fell back onto her bed, only to go into a deep, well-needed slumber.

the next morning, ellie had spent all day making a drawing of you, adding in all of your perfections, thinking whether or not to give it to you. she was in a deep ass ponder when she got a knock on the door.

‘marjorie, i dont have any more sugar!’ she yelled. then she heard your faint giggle. oh fuck.

she rushed up from her seat, completely forgetting to cover the very obvious drawing of you. she twisted the doorknob a couple times with her clammy hands.

‘h—hey! sorry..’ she stuttered. you just flashed her one of your smiles and came in. was she dreaming? why are you in her house? what the actual fuck is going on.

‘i uh, i got your text! you said you made something for me?’ you smiled again, this time it reaching your eyes. ellie looked so confused, like a lost dog.

‘i texted you?’ holy shit, holy shit. ellie was so baked this morning, she didnt actually mean to send that text to you. (please ignore the fact that reader literally didnt give ellie their number ellies just built different.)

her face dropped, all colour draining from it. ‘im so sorry, ‘i—i didint mean to actually send that text.’ she just babbled on and on and on until you glanced at her table.

‘who’re you drawing?’ you pointed at the table and she shuffled over to it. she shook her head and closed the drawing book. im such a mess, she thought.

‘’s no one.. not important.’ she smiled awkwardly. you just giggled, with your fucking cute mouth, she was internally dying, she felt so hot-headed.

‘oh! ellie, youre burning up! your face— its very red.’ you rushed over, concerned, oblivious to the fact that she was blushing over the thought of you.

ellie shook her head and shooed away your hands. she gave you a polite but very awkward, half-smile. ‘’m fine, its fine! i uh— dont wanna waste your time, you best be going.’

you frowned, was it something you did? why was she excusing you out of her house.

on the other hand ellie was stressing. ‘you best be going.’ who the fuck says something like that. she was staring at her feet, then she glanced up at your face and noticed the slight frown.

‘yeah, sorry. cya els!’ els? holy guacamole. she was even more red faced then before if thats even possible, the tips of her ears were quite literally bright red.

‘no-no wait, can you just maybe come by again tomorrow, i havent actually finished what i was making for yo—‘ shes said to much. you just stood there smirking.

‘so you did make something for me?’ she was completely and utterly dumbfounded. mouth agape and just nodding her pretty little head.

‘ill be here at this time tomorrow, dont fail me ellie.’ you grinned, you enjoyed teasing this “stranger”. not to mention she was completely ogling over you when she opened the door to you.

‘y—yeah!’ she swallowed hard. she waved as you left the house and you flashed her one of your stupid smiles with your pearly teeth that she’ll be thinking about for days.

well, ellie was officially fucked.

[manifesto-of-a-femcel]

Beautiful Movies All Girls Should Watch

A list of movies that touch on coming of age, romance and complex female emotions.

May (2002): A socially awkward veterinary assistant with a lazy eye and obsession with perfection descends into depravity after developing a crush on a boy with perfect hands.

Audition (1999): A widower takes an offer to screen girls at a special audition, arranged for him by a friend to find him a new wife. The one he fancies is not who she appears to be after all.

Helter Skelter (2012): Top star Lilico undergoes multiple cosmetic surgeries to her entire body. As her surgeries show side effect, Lilico makes the lives of those around her miserable as she tries to deal with her career and her personal problems.

Ginger Snaps (2000): Two death-obsessed sisters, outcasts in their suburban neighborhood, must deal with the tragic consequences when one of them is bitten by a deadly werewolf.

The Craft (1996): A newcomer to a Catholic prep high school falls in with a trio of outcast teenage girls who practice witchcraft, and they all soon conjure up various spells and curses against those who anger them.

Malèna (2000): Amidst the war climate, a teenage boy discovering himself becomes love-stricken by Malèna, a sensual woman living in a small, narrow-minded Italian town.

Perfect Blue (1997): A retired pop singer turned actress’ sense of reality is shaken when she is stalked by an obsessed fan and seemingly a ghost of her past.

Rosemary’s Baby (1968): A young couple trying for a baby moves into an aging, ornate apartment building on Central Park West, where they find themselves surrounded by peculiar neighbors.

The Virgin Suicides (1999): A group of male friends become obsessed with five mysterious sisters who are sheltered by their strict, religious parents in suburban Detroit in the mid 1970s.

Sucker Punch (2011): A young girl institutionalized by her abusive stepfather retreats to an alternative reality as a coping strategy and envisions a plan to help her escape.

Piggy (2022): An overweight teen is bullied by a clique of cool girls poolside while holidaying in her village. The long walk home will change the rest of her life.

The Love Witch (2016): A modern-day witch uses spells and magic to get men to fall in love with her, with deadly consequences.

Pearl (2022): In 1918, a young woman on the brink of madness pursues stardom in a desperate attempt to escape the drudgery, isolation and lovelessness of life on her parents' farm.

Girl, Interrupted (1999): Based on writer Susanna Kaysen's account of her 18-month stay at a mental hospital in the late 1960s.

Black Swan (2010): Nina is a talented but unstable ballerina on the verge of stardom. Pushed to the breaking point by her artistic director and a seductive rival, Nina's grip on reality slips, plunging her into a waking nightmare.

Gone Girl (2014): With his wife's disappearance having become the focus of an intense media circus, a man sees the spotlight turned on him when it's suspected that he may not be innocent.

Jennifer’s Body (2009): A newly-possessed high-school cheerleader turns into a succubus who specializes in killing her male classmates. Can her best friend put an end to the horror?

Bones And All (2022): Coming of age romance about two cannibals

In the Mood for Love (2000): Two neighbors form a strong bond after both suspect extramarital activities of their spouses. However, they agree to keep their bond platonic so as not to commit similar wrongs.

Brokeback Mountain (2005): Ennis and Jack are two shepherds who develop a sexual and emotional relationship. Their relationship becomes complicated when both of them get married to their respective girlfriends.

Call Me By Your Name (2017): In 1980s Italy, romance blossoms between a seventeen-year-old student and the older man hired as his father's research assistant.

Maurice (1986): Two English school chums find themselves falling in love at Cambridge. To regain his place in society, Clive gives up Maurice and marries. While staying with Clive and his wife, Maurice discovers romance in the arms of the gamekeeper Alec.

Y Tu Mamá También (2001): In Mexico, two teenage boys and an attractive older woman embark on a road trip and learn a thing or two about life, friendship, sex, and each other.

Caroline (2009): An adventurous 11-year-old girl finds another world that is a strangely idealized version of her frustrating home, but it has sinister secrets.

Corpse Bride (2005): When a shy groom practices his wedding vows in the inadvertent presence of a deceased young woman, she rises from the grave assuming he has married her.

[cherriegyuu]

Willow | 02

pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader genre: angst, marriage of convenience word count: 5.2k summary: seungcheol always knew that he was going to marry you, but things only get harder once he does (or in which seungcheol is just really dumb and doesn't know how to show his feelings)

part one | part two | part three (final) | drabble

Seungcheol functioned like clockwork. 

Every day he woke up at the exact same time, his alarm was obnoxiously loud — especially considering how much of a light sleeper he was —, showered, cocked the same breakfast, and left the apartment precisely at 7:45.

You don’t remember him being that punctual but your best guess was that grown-up Seungcheol took his life and responsibilities much more seriously than teenage him. And he probably had a lot on his plate too. He was set to take over the firm once his dad retired, something that wouldn’t happen any time soon, but it always felt like something he was being prepared for it. 

And being honest, you couldn’t say that you knew this version of Seungcheol, not really. He was hot and cold with you, mostly cold, so it was hard to know where you stood in your relationship with him. 

Truth was, that had a lot to do with you as well. You weren’t trying to make things easier for the two of you, if anything it felt like you were trying your best to make it as hard as possible — even if that wasn’t your intention at all. 

While your husband was always perfectly on time, you were always running around late for every single appointment you could ever make. People from work already knew that if there was a student scheduled for 10:00h, you’d probably get there a little later. It really wasn’t on purpose, you tried your best to be on time, even tried to follow along with Seungcheol’s agenda. But it never worked out. So instead of being on time and having everything ready, all it did was make you nervous and even more late.

You also didn’t follow a schedule for your day. Every day, on your way home, you made a little detour, never failing in finding a new place to go or a different restaurant to try. 

At the end of the day, you and Seungcheol lived separate lives, barely talking to each other, or even acknowledging each other. Most of it was just niceties because both of you felt the need to do so. It would have felt even more awkward to walk past each other in the hallway and don’t even say good morning. Anyone who looked at the two of you would think that you were just roommates, not actually married. Hell, not even friends. 

If anything, the house arrangement contract you wrote made things even worse — if that was even possible.   

After signing it, with a look of complete disbelief on his face, Seungcheol went to his room. His words “my own wife is telling me that she wants to date other men while saying that I should date other women” still rang in your head. You didn’t mean for it to sound like that, you didn’t want to push him to do anything at all. Your only thought was that since the marriage was fake, there was no love between you, there was no reason for you to be stuck to each other and live completely without happiness. 

There wasn’t anything either of you could do in that regard, there was no way of canceling or ending the marriage, so all you wanted to do was give him a way to find something that could bring him a little bit of joy. If said joy came in the shape of another woman, then so be it.

After that, you never talked again. And he barely showed any emotion at all around you, no reaction. He didn’t complain or seemed fazed when you almost let the dirty water you used to clean your brushes fall on his desk and ruin, well, everything. He still followed the rules you created, almost religiously. Whenever he cooked, he made enough for you, if he was the one doing laundry he was careful not to damage any of your clothes. 

Living like that felt oddly lonely. 

You were used to being by yourself, having your own space. The last time you shared an apartment with someone, or more specifically, a room, was when you were still in college with Yeda. But the thought of living with someone else but never actually seeing them… 

You thought that once you were married you would have someone to share your life with, even if that someone turned out to be Seungcheol. Naively, you figured that all of those years of your childhood spent together — even if those were also forced on both of you —, would play a part in making sure that cohabitation was a possibility. 

We could still try to be friends, was what you told yourself.

Because your husband wasn't all that bad, to begin with. You might not see eye to eye on many things but you knew that he was a good person. You had hoped that, maybe, living in the same place, seeing each other every day, would change something about your relationship with him. And in a way, it did. It just wasn't what you expected. Instead of growing closer, you couldn’t be further apart. 

You glanced at your phone again, the bright numbers seemed to be mocking you. 

It was past 3 am and there was still no sign of Seungcheol. When 9 pm rolled around you assumed he had stayed at the office a little bit longer, finishing up whatever it was. Then 9 became midnight and staying in bed wasn’t something you could stand anymore so you moved to the living room, a book and a blanket in hand. But reading too was hard, the words were all floating around in your mind and none of it actually made any sense. Your mind was too focused on the fact that Seungcheol wasn't home yet to focus on the story.

Another hour went by and there was still no sign of him. The world outside the apartment was quiet and no car could be heard on the street.

The truth was that you were worried about him. There were little bells inside your mind telling you that something must have happened to him because that just wasn’t Seungcheol. It wasn’t him when he was young and it also wasn’t him as an adult. He wasn’t the kind of person who would disappear without telling anyone, so you were sure that there was someone who knew where he was. 

The most obvious choice would be to call him and it would have been a great plan if you had his number at all. 

The realization that you knew nothing at all about your husband made a sickening feeling slowly spread through your body.

It was so stupid to not have his number and it made absolutely no sense because he was your husband. Even if you were a fake wife, shouldn’t you at least be able to communicate with him if needed? Sometimes people have emergencies that couldn’t wait for their significant other to get home — or in your case never get home at all.

Option number two was to go through the things in his office. He should have at least a business card or something, anything at all, with a phone number. You thought about calling your parents or even his parents. How would you explain that even though you kept telling them that everything was fine, that things were finally falling into place, you didn’t have your husband's number? And never mind knowing someone who worked with him. Seokmin, what that his name? Seokmin probably knew where Seungcheol was but then again, there was no way to reach him either. 

You stood up to cross the room, your blanket and book both forgotten on the couch when you heard the sound of keys being put in the lock and a second later the door was pushed open. 

Seungcheol stood precariously on his legs, an arm over Seokmin’s shoulders, while the younger one tried his best to stop his friend from falling face-first on the floor. 

“Cheol” you breathed in relief and rushed towards him, your hands reached for his cheeks, forcing him to look at you “Cheol…”

He opened his eyes for a second and a drunken smile, or at least an attempt at a smile.

“Ah, wife! Precisely who I wanted to see” his words were slurred, almost in sync with his body as it swayed from side to side. 

Seungcheol stepped away from Seokmin and dropped all of his weight onto you. Your arms immediately circled his waist as you bent your knees a little, trying to hold him up.

"Sorry," Seokmin said as he tried to pull Seungcheol from you "I've never seen him get this drunk before, I didn't think it possible"

Neither did you, but then again there was a lot about Seungcheol that you didn't know. 

"It's fine" you moved your feet back until you felt the couch behind your knees and with Seokmin's help you were able to get Seungcheol to sit "Thank you for bringing him home"

Seokmin smiled at you, tightly. He wanted to say more but he knew that if he did he would be butting in your relationship with Seungcheol and his friend would probably give him hell for it. Drunk Seungcheol was a problem — in the form of a cute lovesick oversized puppy, as he has recently discovered —, but sober Seungcheol would bite his head off without as much as a warning.

"I should have brought him home earlier, before he drank himself stupid"

You shook your head and pushed the hair out of Seungcheol’s forehead. You couldn't even bring yourself to be mad at him, not really. Before he got home you felt this pain in your stomach, telling you that there was something incredibly wrong, that he was in some kind of trouble. But the only real trouble was the fact he had, as Seokmin said, drank himself stupid.

"Honestly, it's okay. I'm just glad he's home safe. Again, thank you for that"

 "I wish I could say it was no trouble" he laughed lightly "Do you need help with anything?"

You shook your head.

"I got it from here"

Seokmin opened the door and let himself out. He stopped for a second as if remembering something and reached for the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a business card. He didn't say anything as put it by your keyes.

You realized then that he knew. Seokmin knew about your relationship with Seungcheol, or lack of it. He just smiled and closed the door. You stayed frozen in place, looking at the door, as if somehow it would grant you answers.

Though you had told Yeda the true nature of your marriage, you never expected Seungcheol to do the same and to Seokmin, of all people. Not that you really knew him but just based on his interaction with Seungcheol on your wedding day, Seokmin was the last person you would expect to know the truth.

"y/n," Seungcheol said and you turned to him, "I think I want to throw up"

His warning was almost too late, there was no time to get him to the bathroom or for you to get him a bucket, but just enough for him to grab on the flower vase in front of the couch. You turned away from him, knowing that the smell of vomit wouldn't bother you, but seeing him throw up actually would. 

"I'm really sorry"

It had been so long since you last heard him talk like that, almost childlike. The Seungcheol you knew liked to pose as this big, bad guy, but in reality, he was more of a softy that got things done. He could pout for days if he wanted.

Not only did he sound childlike, but he also looked like a child that messed up. His eyes were almost helpless as he looked at the floor, then his shoes, and finally his suit jacket. 

"Don't worry about it" You reached a hand for him. His eyes focused on your hand, almost mesmerized, before his long fingers wrapped around yours "Let's get you cleaned up and ready for bed"

You helped him off his jacket and held both of his hands as he allowed you to pull him up from the couch. He pushed his shoes off once you reached the hall leading up to his room. This time, instead of putting all of his weight on you, Seungcheol used the wall to steady himself, still his arm was around your shoulder and he leaned a little towards you. 

You wanted to ask him what happened, what made him want to drink so much. More than anything you wanted to know why he didn't warn you in advance.

Over the four months that you lived together, though there was no real interaction between the two of you, Seungcheol always found ways to talk to you. At first, there was a yellow post-it stuck to your door. They were simple notes. I made breakfast, or dinner with your parents tonight, I'll pick you up at 7. And sometimes they were more caring, those, you came to realize, were always blue. Do you still hate spinach? just in case, i didn't add any or let me know if there's anything you want to eat and even i canceled dinner tonight with my mom, you looked tired last night, you should rest this weekend. 

He always made sure to tell you if he was going to be late, always. So not knowing where he was… you hated it.

Seungcheol didn't complain when you pushed him down on the mattress and undid his tie, later moving on to his shirt and then using it to clean his mouth

You didn't realize but Seungcheol's eyes were on you the entire time. Despite the alcohol, his mind was hyper-aware of your finger touching his skin, on the way you kept biting your lips as if doing your best to hold back from cussing him out.

"Can you shower on your own?" Seuncheol made a noise that you could only translate as a no "Do you want to brush your teeth?"

You probably already knew the answer to that too but still had to ask. His eyes were almost closed and he stayed sitting by some sort of miracle. 

"I don't think I should stand up again" You nodded at him and turned around, you could at least get him to use some mouthwash before he fell asleep and maybe get him to drink a glass of water, but he held your hand and lightly pulled you back — not in a forcible way, just to get your attention "I don't like it when you make that face"

His voice was so quiet, barely above a whisper.

"It's the same face you did on our wedding day, when you walked down the aisle. You looked so pretty but sad, and angry too. Why were you so angry?"

You looked at his eyes for a second before looking away. They were all too demanding, wanting more than you were willing to give him. Your wedding day, believe it or not, wasn't a day you thought about too often and when you did think about it felt like years had gone by. The night you decided to suggest the contract was the one you thought of more often, with much more sadness. 

"I wasn't angry" 

Your voice was quiet as pulled the duvet for him to get under. In silence, Seungcheol removed his pants and laid down. He let go of your hand for only a second before holding it again.

"I was scared and worried, like today. You were gone for a really long time and I didn't know where you were. I couldn't even call you"

Having those thoughts around your mind was so different from actually saying them out loud, saying them to Seungcheol. If the night taught you one thing was that you didn't know anything at all about your husband. Everything you thought you knew was wrong. But if you could make a guess, judging by the way his eyes seemed to be a little more focused and his words a little less slurred, it was probably okay to say that he was sobering up. Maybe throwing up was all he needed.

"Our marriage is just so weird. My wife told me to sleep with other people" he laughed and pulled his hand away, closing his eyes "It's almost like we're friends with benefits but without the friendship part nor the benefits. We're just a piece of paper. If you think about it, we're nothing really"

Tomorrow, you suddenly promised yourself, tomorrow will be different and we will start this all over again.

The second he said yes to drinking with Seokmin, Seungcheol knew that he would regret it. The first time he went to a bar with the younger one, Seuncheol told him all about his fake marriage. So, of course, the second time couldn't be much different. He regretted it for more reasons than he cared to admit. 

The entire night he behaved like a pubescent thirteen year old complaining about the fact that his crush didn't like him back. He was stupid enough to tell Seokmin all about the contract you came up with, to which his friend laughed hysterically. Because you must be the shitties husband in the history of the world if your wife has already given up on you like this.

And if that was what you thought of him, if you saw him as the worst husband in the history of the world, could he blame you? On your wedding way, that is known to be a day that everyone remembers, he was a complete idiot to you. No excuse he could ever come up with would be good enough. Because, truth be told, his behavior then had been inexcusable. In your shoes, he would have probably done much worse. You had shown him mercy. 

And kept showing him mercy, even after months of him being silent and barely being in the apartment. He used work as an excuse often to get him out of situations in his daily life. He never thought that he would use it as a way to stay clear of you. 

Because Seungcheol did work a lot but he also knew how to take time off. His job was important and his clients too were important, but he learned that he should have time to himself. and now that he was married, he needed to have time for you too. Even if it was just to stay home with you. He should have done that but instead, he found ways to be at the office until later than he usually did, took clients that he normally wouldn’t, and did the most stupid thing of all: went to a bar with Seokmin.

And the worse part of it all was that he remembered every single thing that he did the night before. He wished he was one of those people who get drunk and just forget about all the embarrassing things they did. But he wasn’t. 

Seungcheol remembered being carried home by Seokmin, who again was having too much fun laughing at him, he remembers throwing up, the way you held on to him. But more than anything he remembers the way you said his name, Cheol, ever so quietly, when he walked in, the way your eyes searched his face as if looking for anything that could be wrong with him — other than being drunk.

He hated that he talked about being friends with you while he was drunk. Hated that you didn’t get to hear him while he was sober because he had prepared a whole speech for you, almost as if he was going to court and needed to plead his case.

He had plans to talk to you and maybe that was why he went out with Seokmin, to get his friend to push in the direction he wanted to go. Because truth be told, Seungcheol was scared. 

For over ten years of his life, he knew that he would marry you. So had time to think about it, and ponder on every possibility that could happen. Because he had been in love with you for longer than that, but not once he was allowed to act on his feelings. At first, it was because of your brother, then because of himself, and then finally when you closed a door on his face — metaphorically speaking. 

And when he finally had a chance to do so, he fucked up. There was no other way to say it. The two of you were already married, so what was the worst thing that could happen? For you to reject him? That was already happening. 

He hated that he lost the chance to charm you from the get-go. And then again for months. He couldn’t miss the chance yet again.

Seungcheol pushed himself up on his elbows, tentatively opening his eyes. He expected the room to be filled with light but he was surprised to see that the only source of it came from the half opened door. He never closed his blinds before going to bed, he never felt the need to as he usually got up as soon as the sun was up, and he certainly hadn’t closed them the night before going to bed. 

However, no amount of darkness could make him look past you, sleeping in a weird position in the armchair in front of his bed.

Seungcheol, who was usually a light sleeper, had no idea that you came into his room a couple of times during the night until you finally convinced yourself that it was okay for you to sleep in there because you were too afraid that we would throw up during the night; he had no idea that you got up in the middle of the night to pull the duvet over his body.

He knew nothing about those things, yet he felt overwhelmed at the sight of you.

For a second he wanted nothing more than to stay sitting there and just watch you. As creepy as it might be, it was the first time he felt like the two of you were more than just two people who shared the same apartment. 

He could only hope that the night before had changed something for you too, because now there was no way he would just let things go back to how they were. 

You were worried about Seuncheol. Had been the entire day. You woke up to the sound of the shower running and the sight of his empty bed in front of you. You left as soon as you woke up, deciding that he was probably way too hungover to want to talk to you then. 

So instead of staying at home, wondering when it would be a good time talk to talk to him, you went out. There was nothing for you to do, no place to go and Yeda already had plans with her boyfriend so she couldn’t meet you. 

You indulged yourself, going to the mall and getting a few new brushes and paint — not that you needed anything, but a mind filled with weird thoughts and a credit card with more limit than necessary could be the ruin of someone. But going there was somewhat of a bad idea, considering how many couples there were around. 

All of them looked in love, happy to be around each other. You couldn’t help but wonder if it could be the same for you and Seungcheol. If you had talked to him in the months leading up to the wedding, would things be different now? If he hadn’t been a complete idiot on your wedding day, would things be different?

There were many answers to those questions, but none of them would matter. There was no way to go back to the past, to redo things. So all you had was the present, as it was, and a chance to change everything. 

On your wedding day, your dad told you that he didn’t love your mother when they got married. He said that the love he felt for her was built over the years they stayed together. And you wanted to try that. 

Because you never really believe in love at first sight, the idea of it was just too irrational for you. You believed that curiosity, attraction, lust, and enchantment could all be feelings that are awoken in someone at first sight. But love? That was a complicated feeling, that no three seconds look ever give you. 

Because you wanted a love that was constantly warm. Too hot or too cold would burn you all the same. You didn’t want a relationship that was all over the place, with too many ups and downs. 

And maybe, Seungcheol could that someone for you. 

You had been standing in front of Seungcheol’s room for the past five minutes, building up the courage no knock on his door, had already raised your hand twice but was yet to finally do it. Seungcheol’s drunker words mirrored your thoughts, so you had to talk to him.

You took a deep breath before you forced your fingers to tap lightly against his door. You didn’t wait for his answer and stuck your head inside. 

He was sitting on his bed, a book open over his chest while he scrolled through his phone. That was a scene you had seen many times while you were a teenager. It was easy to remember an 18-year-old Seungcheol lying on the couch, in that exact position. 

“Seungcheol?” he looked at you surprised, he hadn’t heard you knock on his door “Come out, let’s have dinner”.

Without a word, Seungcheol followed you to the kitchen. His surprised eyes were focused on the food on the table. He clearly remembered you telling him that you didn’t cook, your mom said the same thing too.

“You cooked?” he sounded a little nervous, as if unsure that he should be asking.

He looked cute, you decided then. There was this childish look in his eyes, half in wonder, half in expectancy. 

Seungcheol was waiting for something to go wrong again. The last time you had gotten him dinner was the night everything went to shit. What if this time you told him that you wanted a divorce because of the shit he pulled the night before? He was honestly ready to beg you not to do that. 

“No, I got it on the way home” you waved a hand and he laughed and you felt your cheeks get warm “Are you feeling better? I left before we could talk”

He smiled and nodded at you, looking at the food in front of him. There was nothing special about it, it was something that he could have cooked, but still, his heart did a little flip inside his chest. 

“I’m sorry about last night. I swear I don’t drink like that all the time. Or at all” his own cheeks got hot “I’m sorry you had to clean up after me”

“It’s fine, really. Yeda was my roommate in college and I wish she would throw up in a vase. I think I cleaned that dorm more than anyone else that used it before or after us”

Yeda was a good friend, but she took the idea of being the life of the party a little too far sometimes. That alone was the reason you found yourself going back to your parents' house almost every weekend. You had convinced yourself that the two-hour drive was worth it, if it meant that you didn’t have to clean vomit again. 

The two of you eat in silence as you tried to find a good way to start a conversation with him. Why was it so hard? You had no trouble talking with him when you were teenagers. Sure, there was a lot of bickering but that was still better than nothing at all. 

“Is everything okay with you? You’re not eating” he said quietly. the food in front of him was almost gone while yours had barely been touched “You don’t like the food?”

You shook your head and set down your fork. 

“I’m a little nervous, so it’s hard to eat” he didn’t need to ask to know what you were nervous about “Can we talk, please?”

In silence, the two of you put the dishes away and the food leftovers on the fridge. There was no way either of you would keep eating so it was better not to waste any time.

Seungcheol’s mind was running a thousand miles an hour. He was certain, 100%, that would you ask for a divorce. He knew that you couldn’t do it. The rational part of his brain told him that it wasn’t an option at all. But the irrational side? It didn’t care. All the worse possible scenarios were playing in his mind. 

The first one, as he expected, would be for you to ask for a divorce; the second one would be you telling him that there was someone in your life, someone you were in love with. 

That thought alone was enough to make his heart ache. You being in love with someone else was too much for him. 

“Oh my god! Will you stop looking at me like that? I'm not going to bite your head off! I want to talk with my husband. Millions of people do that every day. I'm sure millions of people are probably doing that right now”

He smiled then. That was exactly how remembered you, that was the you he wanted to see the most on your wedding day, when he talked shit and you talked right back at him. Because there was no way that he would get to have the last word in a conversation like that. 

And it was also the first time you addressed him as your husband, at least in front of him. The first time you said it out loud. 

But in that moment you confused his feelings for fear when all that he felt was some sort of joy. How borderline pathetic was it that he felt happy over the simple fact that his wife acknowledged his existence?

“The things you said last night… I agree with them. Our marriage won't last very long, we won't last very long, if we continue this way. We will be broken beyond repair if we don't do something right now. So we have to change, we have to, at the very least, be friends but we will never get there if we keep going this way”

That wasn't exactly what you wanted to say but you hoped that Seungcheol would understand, wished that he would read into your sloppy and messy words. He was a lawyer, after all, it was what he did for a living. Right?

“Let's go out once a week then, sort of like a date? But not really” you shook your hand and covered your face, you felt like a teenager asking the guy you had a crush on a date “Just so we can get used to each other again, be friends and all that”

Seungcheol pressed his lips, trying his best to suppress the smiles that threatened to take over his entire face. With a short nod and shake of hands, you and Seungcheol settled down on another agreement.

taglist: @belladaises @minghaossv @lol6sposts @weebotakuboy @alifethatsonlyonthepage @donquixotesvt @dearlosver @dearxia @yogurttea @royal9 @desibrownie @feat-sun @itsveronicaxxx @soonyoonswoo @matchahyuck

requests are open

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

I’d love if you wrote a wifexAemond fic where she’s not from King’s Landing so has different style and takes a ton of effort to get a new dress made that’s more locally aesthetic and when Aemond doesn’t notice/insults it she gets upset and he’s like “the only time I like your dresses are when they’re on the floor” angst/comfort/smut yknow

In the spirit of the ask game, here is a tidbit for you...

She smooths her hands over the plush, forest green velvet, a sudden rush of self consciousness making her skin grow heated with embarrassment as her fingers move over the brocade of her bodice. The gown feels much too dressy, after two decades spent adorned in the light, flowing fabric of her home.

However, she is now the wife of a Prince Regent, and she looks out of place next to the elaborate garb of both the Queen and Queen Regent. Their dresses are always richly embroidered, colourful and expensive. They make her feel drab when stood next to them in lighter fabrics, far simpler in cut, not as elaborately tailored.

She had requested the gown to be made, hoping to impress her new husband by dressing in a style that is befitting of both royalty and the fashion of the capital.

She paces anxiously outside of the small council chamber, wanting him to see her the moment the meeting draws to its close. After what feels like an eternity, the doors are finally flung open and Masester Orwyle files out alongside Lord Wylde, Lord Strong and Lord Lannister. As always, Aemond is last to leave.

Her eyes light up and she smiles brightly as he finally steps out into the corridor, however, she withers as his eye sweeps quickly over her before striding down the corridor without acknowledging her.

She hurries to keep up with his much longer gait, walking quickly beside him as he stalks ahead.

"Husband, I trust your efforts to advance upon Harrenhal are going as planned?"

"Mmm," comes his cool response, not sparing her a glance. "'Tis not for you to concern yourself with. Are there not more domestic pursuits you could occupy your time with?"

Her face falls and she stops walking, watching as he continues on, before rounding the corner. She wants to cry, her chest tightening painfully at the rejection.

But of course he is right, they are in midst of a war, and it is not her place to attempt to involve herself, and thoughtless of her to attempt to distract his attention when he has more pressing matters to attend to.

She decides she will wait until he retires to their apartments for the evening. He will be less distracted then, and surely take notice of the effort she has gone to.

As they sup within their chambers later that evening, she places her spoon back in her bowl, looking across the candlelit table at him as he stirs his own around, features pinched in annoyance.

"Do you notice anything different, husband?" She ventures hopefully.

"Yes," he replies, allowing his own spoon to drop with a clatter. "The stew has grown yet thinner still, thanks to that fucking blockade."

He is right, of course, but it is not the response she had hoped for. The foolish whims of a silly girl, not appreciative of the burden her husband shoulders, yet his inattention to her stings just the same.

Unable to stomach anymore food, especially with the lump that rapidly forms within her throat, she stands abruptly, her voice small and tight sounding.

"If you will excuse me..."

"You are upset," he says, an observation, not a question.

The matter of fact nature of his tone finally causes the dam to burst and hot tears spill from her lashline, trickling down her cheeks.

"Yes, I am upset!" She cries, her tone angrier than she intends for it to be. "I went to great effort to have this dress made, hoping you would appreciate it, and you have not commented on it once!"

His eye narrows, blazing with anger as his mouth presses into a tight line, pushing his own chair back with a loud scrape across the flagstones.

She shrinks away, suddenly fearful as he stalks towards her. She is not fast enough to evade him, and harshly he grabs her arm, tugging her flush against his chest as he glares down at her.

"I toil day and night to ensure your safety, wife," he spits the word with such venom it makes her flinch, his breath hot against her face. "And you concern yourself with vanity. Mittys iksā!" You are a fool!

She lowers her gaze, bottom lip trembling as more tears slip down her cheeks. "Forgive me, I am sorry. I did not think."

His expression softens momentarily as he gazes down at her, before his eye darkens again. In one swift movement, his hands come to the front of her bodice, grabbing the fabric and tearing it in two, exposing the thin, white cotton of the chemise beneath.

She gasps, her eyes widening in shock, too stunned to speak as she looks upon the predatory smirk that his full lips curl into.

"You will remove the rest yourself and then lay upon the bed. I shall teach you that it is the body beneath that I am interested in, not the fabric that covers it up."

She is quick to obey, eager for her husband's attention to finally be upon her.

[traveler-at-heart]

Better Together

Request by @l0nelyish

Summary: You're going on missions every day for a week, so it's hard to find time to spend with Nat.

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

Life is never boring as an Avenger. But sometimes, you wish it was.

You’re walking down the hallway of the Compound, just as Natasha is rounding up the corner. Your girlfriend smiles at you, making you feel like a teenager.

“Hey, gorgeous” she greets, pulling you closer by the waist.

“Hi…” your answer is muffled by her lips, moving softly against yours. You immediately forget what you were about to say next.

“I got us a dinner reservation at that new place. So wear something nice and nothing underneath” Natasha says, kissing you more passionately this time. You have to hold her arms to stay upright.

“I… uh. I think I have a mission today, Nat”

“You think?” Natasha teases, kissing down your neck.

“I’m… oh, God… 99% sure”

“Too bad”

“Tomorrow?” you offer, leaning your head on her shoulder and she smiles.

“Tomorrow”

—

Tomorrow is not any better, as you’re back from the mission at the break of dawn, dragging your feet to the apartment.

Natasha’s not in your room, but either way you’re too dirty to even consider getting in bed. You leave your suit and gear on the floor and hop on the shower, washing away the dirt and feeling relieved when the cold water helps soothe the soreness in your muscles.

You’re in your early thirties but happy to consider retirement. Not everyone on the team is a super soldier or a god.

Once you’re out of the shower, you get in bed, ready to text Natasha. You fall asleep with your phone in your hand and only wake up hours later, a post it stuck to your forehead.

Had to run on a mission with Clint. Be back tomorrow.

Love you.

You sigh, wishing you had stayed up to at least spend some time with Natasha. As you yawn, another post it falls from your forehead and you read it with a smile.

Left you some pasta in the fridge.

—

Protocol would dictate that you have at least a day of rest between missions, but with Tony’s leave to prepare for his wedding, there’s more ground to cover.

Which is why you get a call right as you finish lunch. Natasha, who was resting in one of the rooms after returning late from her mission, is also woken up by FRIDAY.

“At least we’ll go together this time” you say as you both enter the conference room.

“No, you won’t” Maria reminds you and you roll your eyes.

“It was one time”

“Once was enough” Clint mutters, sitting next to his friend. Natasha elbows him and the man chuckles. “It’s not my fault that your girl can’t be quiet. Not that it would change anything, Cap has super hearing”

Steve practically spits out his coffee, turning red.

It was never a good idea to have sex on the Quinjet after a mission. But what were you supposed to do when Natasha beat the shit out of a man that almost killed you? She looked too hot doing it.

“Anyways…” Maria says, sliding folders to the four of you. “Barton and Romanoff, we need you to get us intel on a bio weapon. Once you have the exact location, Rogers and Y/N will retrieve it”

“Can’t Barnes go with Steve?” Natasha crosses her arms, less than excited at the prospect of you handling a lethal substance.

“Does he have a PhD in Microbiology?” Maria asks and you sigh, reaching for Natasha’s hand.

“It will be fine”

“Ok. But we’re free tomorrow, non-negotiable” the redhead says.

“Of course, no missions tomorrow, especially for Y/N” Maria promises, finishing the meeting. You’re about to stand up when you look at her, confused.

“What do you mean, especially me?”

“You’re going to the graduation at SHIELD’s DC academy” she reminds you. “You didn’t forget about it, right? You’re giving the comencement speech and everything”

“I’ll handle the bio weapon and you give the speech” you turn to Steve and he smiles.

“You’ll do fine”

What a week.

It’s only Wednesday.

—

You’ll kill Maria.

She should have mentioned that the speech was followed by a luncheon and then half of DCs politicians looking to have a word with you about their projects for national and international cooperation.

By the time you’re back to the Compound, the sun is setting and all you want to do is find Natasha and go back home.

“They left for a mission. Won’t be back until Friday” Tony says as soon as you enter the kitchen and you sigh.

“I can’t believe I am about to say this but I can’t wait for you to come back, Tony”

“Yeah, I think Pepper is ready too. Apparently, you can actually have too much of me”

“No shit” you sit on a bar stool as he fixes you a drink. “How’s the wedding planning?”

“Well, we are compromising. She agreed to a very big DJ on a massive stage and I agreed to stepping foot on a church. But she says it’s too much to give Aston Martins for the wedding party”

“For the first time in her life, Pepper is wrong”

“So, you’ll still be my best woman?”

“Only if I get that Aston Martin” you raise your glass and Tony smiles.

“I’ll do my best”

—

Friday is impossibly slow, until it isn’t.

“Suit up” Maria says as soon as you pick up the phone.

“Oh, come on. Natasha’s coming back today, Hill”

“Well, the faster you get here the sooner we’ll finish the mission”

“Fine. Tell Fury I’m expecting to get paid extra hours”

“Take it up with payroll” Fury says and you almost drop your phone.

“Shit. I mean, on my way, sir, director Fury, sir”

You’re in such a hurry that you forget to leave a note for your girlfriend. All you can do is hope you two will finally see each other at the end of the day.

—

“We should do the briefing” Bucky says as soon as you land.

“Oh, hell no. It’s Saturday, we’re not clocking extra hours on a weekend, Buck” you say, carrying the stroopwaffles you bought for Nat. “We should have gotten here like three hours ago”

“We did take a detour on Amsterdam to get you those cookies. And you should really get to the medbay” he says, knowing that if you don’t get properly looked at by a doctor, Natasha will make his life hell.

“Fine” you agree, if only because your shoulder is killing you.

In the end, it was dislocated and you have to use an arm sling and rest for the next week and a half. The team is already overworked, and you feel slightly guilty at the idea of not helping for a few days.

Bucky drives you to your apartment, and you’re happy to see Nat’s home.

“Heeey, sorry. I was supposed to be back yesterday but things got crazy” you greet at the door and Natasha rushes to your side.

“What happened? Are you ok? Why didn’t you call me to pick you up at the Compound?”

“Wow, ok. It’s ok” Natasha’s hands go over every inch of your body, looking for more injuries. You stop them with your own, squeezing the hand that is on your cheek. Green eyes finally connect with yours and you smile. “Hi”

“Stop” Natasha says, rolling her eyes.

“I’m ok. Just a small injury. I’m fine, really”

“I can’t believe I want Tony to be back” she sighs and you laugh.

“That’s what I said”

“What do you have here?” Natasha takes the box from your hand and her eyes light up.

“I know they are your favorite. And all I had to do was promise Bucky no one would make him dance at the wedding”

“I love you”

“I love you too” you say, feeling Natasha’s lips meeting yours in a short and sweet kiss.

“I got you pizza and wine” she says when you break apart.

“Ok, I love you even more now”

Natasha smiles, always happy to hear you say those words.

Insisting on taking care of you, she brings a bunch of pillows to the couch, and once you finish eating, you take the arm sling off, resting against her chest.

“Raining” you mutter, listening to the drops hit against the window. The sound lulls you both, and pretty soon the credits of the movie you’re watching are rolling.

“Bed?” Natasha offers and you nod. Even if you already slept, the jet lag and exhaustion of the week are enough to have you both snoring in record time.

You don’t wake up until the sun is filtering through the blinds, and you rub your eyes. Natasha is still hugging you, her lips tickling your shoulder as she speaks.

“Breakfast?”

“Sure. In a minute” you squeeze her arms, sinking further in her embrace.

In that moment, you realise it’s not a boring life you want.

You want Natasha by your side, no matter if it’s a week full of work or a lazy Sunday morning.

“I love you, Tasha” you say, thinking she’s back to sleep.

You can tell she’s smiling by the way her lips move against your neck.

“Love you too, detka”

[miwsolovely]

—FROZEN LEAVES.

john soap mactavish. gnreader. fluff. 2k. in which, the little monster in your chest won’t stop.

retired soap my beloved

( not really edited )

You loved the stars at night.

It was the only reason you took the long way home.

Not the serene sight of snowflakes reflecting the light as they descended upon your face.

Forget the tranquility the cold breeze settled in your bones.

And never mind the man with the broad shoulders that could pass as a mountain, his long, wide nose with eyes a color you’ve never seen outside the sea and sky.

He’s not the reason, of course.

When his head turns towards you, you find yourself out of breath, looking away and in front of your apartment with your hand clutching your hummingbird heart.

He’s not the reason.

The next day though, he’s here.

He’s here and standing in front of you to the shortest line to the cashiers, standing in line with that muscular back you see in your dreams at times, standing with a grocery bag tucked in the nook of his elbow, the veins protruding from his sculpted biceps, his—

He casts a glance to the sweets displayed just before the conveyor belt. “What do ye think ah should get? Eh Dolly?”

His voice, not even directed at you but you can still feel the slight tremble in your knees. To think that his voice has such an effect on you that you find yourself discretely pawing at your chest trying to calm the nuisance nestled deep inside, trying to calm the daydreams that beg you to be placed with him by your side, his head resting on yours, you playing with his overgrown, midnight hair, him laying on your chest. Daydreams.

You wish it to be a reality. You and him. Him and you.

“Sweet tooth?”

You didn’t even realize your own voice as you spoke to him.

When he turns around at the sound of your voice, hair falls over his eyes in the most perfect way and you’d fix it if he didn’t look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like you—a mix of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But that’s a hard thing to explain.

He smiles and you have to resist the urge to stare at the way tiny crescents form in the apples of his cheeks.

“Aye, Mum tells me I should stop, my four devils of sisters do as well, it’ll be the death of me, they say.” He scans you from the soles of your feet to the top of your head and it seems his grin grew wider. “Isnae unlikely for me to disobey.” He winks at you and you see stars.

You feel your own smile grow, as well as a warmth to your cheeks that goes against your brains’ wishes.

You find yourself moving closer; to the display of sweets or to him, you don’t know. “Well, which is your favorite?”

“Anythin’ sweet with caramel has my heart.”

You find yourself thinking that any outcome with him has yours.

Since the elderly woman in front of you two had a bit too much in her cart, you two had plenty of time to talk about random things. Him talking and you letting out stuttered responses while trying not to lose yourself in his eyes; like an ocean untamed, when a dance of light reaches it, it turns into a glacial hue that you adore.

You question him with a quirked brow. “Military?”

He turns to you and his blue eyes dull a little. He must’ve loved what he did.

“Aye.” He responds. Then his grin slowly comes back to life. “Dolly give you tha’ impression?”

You blink at him.

“Dolly?”

He nods to something right in front of his feet, under the conveyor belt.

Before you could reply, the cashier called out sharply, “Next!” snapping you out of your daze.

Johnny stepped forward, and a dog, a service dog—you notice, red vest for everyone to see, golden retriever you assume is named Dolly, trotting faithfully by his side. She walked calmly beside him, her harness strap snug in Johnny’s hand. She occasionally glanced up at him, her deep brown eyes full of attentiveness, as if checking in.

The two of them were a sight to behold. Johnny, with his broad shoulders and that perpetual air of confidence, and Dolly, exuding calmness and loyalty. They were a team you wished to be apart of.

As Johnny unloaded his items onto the conveyor belt, you noticed the assortment—dog treats, a bag of coffee, and a packet of biscuits that looked suspiciously like shortbread.

You followed behind, your own basket much less interesting—just a carton of eggs, some vegetables, and a box of tea.

“Four sisters?” you repeated, trying to hide the grin tugging at the corners of your lips. The way Johnny spoke about his family, his words tinged with a warm nostalgia, made it impossible not to feel charmed.

He smiled, that boyish grin that you noticed managed to light up his entire face. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, and you couldn’t help but wish, just for a moment, that you could reach over and press a kiss there. It didn’t help that his accent made every word sound like music to your ears.

“Aye,” he said, his voice thick with amusement. “An’ they’re all older than me as well. Wouldnae let me forget it when I was a lad—still remindin’ me.”

He chuckled, a deep, rich sound that you felt more than heard, and your eyes traced the way his lips moved as he spoke. You couldn’t help it; you were helpless.

When it was your turn to pay, Johnny waited off to the side, Dolly sitting obediently at his feet, her posture upright and alert. You caught him watching you out of the corner of his eye, that mischievous smile still playing on his lips.

“So,” you said as you joined him outside, the crisp autumn air nipping at your cheeks, “do your sisters still boss you around, or have you managed to hold your own now that you’re all grown up?”

He laughed, the sound warm enough to chase away the chill in the air. “Oh, they still boss me around, make no mistake. Doesnae matter how many years I spent in the SAS; to them, I’m still their wee brother who couldnae even tie his shoelaces properly.”

You shook your head, unable to stop smiling. “I can’t imagine you being bad at anything, to be honest.

Johnny stopped walking and tilted his head, pretending to consider your words. “Ah, well, there’s plenty I’m rubbish at. Like bakin’. Tried makin’ a cake once—turned out harder than a brick.”

You laughed, the image of Johnny wrestling with a lopsided cake popping into your head. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Dolly gently nudged Johnny’s leg with her nose, drawing your attention. The dog glanced toward the street, then back up at Johnny, as if reminding him to keep moving.

Johnny crouched down, mirroring Dolly’s seated position on the cold earth and scratching behind her ears. “Alright, lass. I know. You’re in charge now, eh?”

The dog’s tail swished gently, her calm demeanor impossible not to admire.

“How long have you had her?” You asked, curiosity nipping at you.

“Picked her up a couple of years ago,” Johnny said, standing again. “Retired life wasn’t sittin’ well with me at first—too much time to think, you know? Dolly came along, and suddenly everything felt a bit easier. She keeps me grounded.”

You nodded, understanding more than you let on. Johnny didn’t seem to want to talk much about his past—his years in the military—but you could see the weight he carried in the quiet moments when he thought no one was watching, like in the line at the cashiers, when your nerves stopped you from opening your mouth. Dolly wasn’t just a service dog; she was Johnny’s anchor.

“Sounds like she’s good for you,” You said softly.

Johnny smiled, and for a moment, you swore you saw a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes.

“Aye,” he said. “She’s the best partner I’ve ever had—present company excluded, of course.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, but before you could respond, Dolly stood, her gaze fixed on Johnny as if waiting for his next move.

Johnny looked down at her, his expression softening. “Alright, lass. Let’s go.”

He turned to you, his grin returning in full force. “Care to join us? There’s a park just down the road—Dolly loves it there.”

Your heart did a little flip at the invitation. “I’d love to.”

The three of you made your way to the park, the conversation flowing easily between you and Johnny. He told you stories about growing up in Scotland, about the mischief he’d gotten into as a boy, and you found yourself laughing more than you had in weeks.

When you reached the park, Johnny unclipped Dolly’s leash, signaling her it was safe to roam. The retriever didn’t bolt like an ordinary dog might; instead, she stayed close, looking back at Johnny as if seeking approval before sniffing around the grass.

“She’s such a good girl,” you remarked, watching Dolly trot ahead, tail wagging gently as she explored.

“She is,” Johnny agreed, his voice filled with pride.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sounds the distant chatter of other park-goers and the rustling leaves underfoot.

Then Johnny turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “You know,” he said, his voice low, “I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in a long time.”

Your breath caught in your throat, but before you could respond, Dolly returned, sitting neatly at Johnny’s side and looking up at him expectantly.

Johnny reached down, giving her a quick scratch behind the ears. “Alright, lass. Ready to head back?”

Dolly wagged her tail in response, twirling in a circle and waiting for Johnny to clip her leash back on.

You watched them, your heart feeling light and full all at once. Being around Johnny was like standing in the sun—warm and comforting, with just enough light to make you feel like everything was going to be okay.

As the night stretched on, you found yourself wishing the moment could last forever. But for now, you were content to be here, standing beside Johnny and his loyal dog, feeling like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And if Johnny happened to notice the way your eyes lingered on him, well, he didn’t say anything. But the smile he gave you felt like it held a secret, one that you hoped, one day, he might share with you.

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms !

- likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3 !!

©miwsolovely

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 92)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (69) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson (24)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((3k))

JORDAN POV

“What are you smiling at?” Leah asked from beside her, placing her hand on her thigh as she drove.

“Can I not just be happy?”

“Of course, but I know your looks. There’s something else there. Don’t you go hidin’ it from me now.”

Jordan smirked, her head resting against the headrest of her seat as she stared at Leah. She was wearing grey joggers, white sneakers, a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a cap, her face still lit up and happy from their morning of golfing. The corners of her eyes were crinkled. She never liked it, the signs of her ageing, however it was one of the things Jordan loved most in the world.

Leah looked at her. “Jord?”

“I was thinking that not long ago I was on a beach, alone and feeling hopeless.” She saw Leah’s expression fall and held her arm with both of her own, leaning in slightly to kiss her shoulder. “And now I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Everything I was upset about is a thing of the past. I have a new friend who I wouldn’t trade for the world. I’m getting game time and making friends within the group. And I have you…” Leah’s face softened. Although they’d spent the morning doing something Leah had loved – it was the perfect day for Jordan also as she got to spend it with her. She murmured her next words softly. “I want to grow old with you, Lea.”

She waited for a reaction for what seemed like an eternity.

Leah pulled up somewhere and stopped the car, putting it in park and turning off the engine. When she turned to her, Jordan could see her tears forming and threatening to spill over.

“Oh Christ, you’ve done it to me.” She accused, wiping at her eyes. Jordan chuckled and gave her the time she needed.

“You want to grow old with me?” Leah asked, holding eye contact. It was ironic as she was the younger of the pair.

“I do.” Jordan brought Leah’s hand to her cheek and nodded against it. “Do you?”

Leah rolled her eyes. “Of course I do, silly girl. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Jordan leant over and tasted the salty tears on Leah’s lips as she kissed her. It felt like home. Leah’s hand pressed against her chest; over her heart which calmed the nerves. Just like she knew it would. No one knew Jordan like Leah did.

She savoured the taste of her until Leah pulled back gently, her thumb stroking over her chest.

“We need to talk about what’s going to happen though, Jord.” She murmured lowly against her lips.

Jordan nodded against her and whispered a response that was almost a croak. “I know.”

She pulled back and any nerves she had for the conversation were immediately calmed by looking at Leah alone. She was calm, collected, and looking like she was in it, regardless of what obstacles they had to overcome.

“Arsen-” she started.

“No.” Jordan cut off, shaking her head. “No. My Arsenal days are over. I’ve made my peace with it. I’m getting game time with Villa, and I don’t have long enough left to be on the bench half the time, which we both know Jonas will do with me. You all have too many quality players.”

Leah pondered her words for a minute, looking like she was going to argue, and then eventually coming to terms with it and nodding. “Okay, Jord. Are you happy with Villa?”

“I am now..”

“And you’re enjoying Birmingham?”

She knew where this was going. “I know it’s not ideal, being so far from London, but hey, it’s only a few hours. We can do that… right?”

Leah didn’t hesitate. “A few years apart is nothing. I’m not losing you again. But… I was thinking I could join Villa…”

Jordan felt her eyes widen as she thought about it for a split second before shaking her head. “No. Absolutely not. Arsenal is your home. I’ve never met a bigger Gooner in my life. I want to see you retire there.”

Leah opened her mouth to speak again, though Jordan beat her there. “There’re no arguments here, Lea. If you can do the distance while I finish my career out at Villa, then we stay where we are. And anytime there are international camps, I’ll come to you. We’ll spend out weekends together. Any spare chances we get.”

“You may be at the camps too..”

Jordan gave her a look. “I’m p…past my time.” She stuttered out with emotion and caught herself with a deep breath. “Sarina won’t call me up again. I’ve made my peace with that too. I’ve had a few conversations with Luce and YFN about it… but I will be there for you. I’ll be at all of your games in England kit.”

Leah’s face softened at first at that comment, and then slowly, Jordan could see that crease forming between her eyebrows. She reached out and smoothed it over. “It’s okay, Lea. It really is. I promise.”

Her hand found her cheek and Leah leant into it. “Are you sure?” She muttered.

“I just want you.”

“You have me.” She admitted with an exaggerated sigh. “God, you’ve always had me, Jordan.”

Jordan’s heart skipped a beat.

“I just want you to be happy.”

“This will make me happy. Me at Villa, you at Arsenal. Us together. We’ll make it work.”

“You won’t get lonely out there?”

“I have Blu, and YFN will be moving back in while she gets better. And I’ll have you whenever you’re free.”

“I’ll be with you every chance I get, but I do have a lot of commitments.” She admitted. “I have events. Charity work. Interviews. A lot of expectations… and I know you don’t like coming to events-”

“-I’ll come.”

Leah almost startled. “What? You’ve never come to an event with me before…”

“We weren’t ever public. We are now.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s part of your life, and I want to be there for it. Plus it means more time together and excuses to dress up..”

Leah grinned. Actually grinned. “So you’ll leave clothes in London?”

“At your house?”

“At our house.” She corrected.

Jordan’s lips twitched as she hid a smile. “Yes. And you’ll keep some at our Birmingham place?”

“Well, it makes sense to, of course.”

Jordan beamed lightly, trying to calm her excited heart. “It’s agreed. Now let’s get home so I can listen to you singing your horrendous country music from the shower while I make us some ham sandwiches for lunch.”

Leah chuckled and it was such a carefree sound. As if all the worries she had, were just expelled with their conversation. She reached out to stroke Jordan’s cheek before gesturing outside to the garage. “We’re already home.”

Jordan’s mouth dropped open slightly before she caught it.

“What about… other parts of our future?”

“What do you mean?” Jordan asked. “You mean our careers afterwards?”

“Well yeah, along with the other important things we never talked about before. Like marriage and kids.”

“It’s best to talk about it all now…” Jordan acknowledged. “What are your thoughts on kids?”

Jordan knew Leah wanted kids, but with her endometriosis, it made it difficult. It would always be Jordan who would need to carry them.

“You know what I want,” Leah sighed. “I want them. Even if we adopt.”

“I’ll carry them…” Jordan offered. They’d never spoken about it like this before, and she’d never offered, but now was the right time. They were all in. Honesty and compromise was necessary for their future together. “Just give me another two years of football. I want to see if I can make the Euros in 2025. If not, then I’ll retire.”

Leah was shocked. She turned in her seat. “Jordan, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking,” she reassured. “I’m offering. I want this, Leah. I want us. A future with you. I have to be realistic. And the reality is that I will be lucky to be starting in two years. My best football is behind me. Time is not on my side.”

“There are other options… surrogacy, adoption, freezing eggs…”

Jordan reached over and touched that worried crease again between her eyebrows and felt it deepen under her finger as Leah’s thoughts and worry ran more rampant. “This is what I want. I promise.”

Leah took some time to accept that. She reached out and laid her hand on Jordan’s lower tummy, eventually allowing herself a little smile.

“A little Nobbs.”

“A little Williamson.”

“You’d take my name? And carry our kids?”

“There’s nothing I want more than two little Williamson’s running around, causing and then solving chaos. Telling everyone what’s right and wrong.”

Leah chuckled. “Fair.” She tilted her head. “Three.”

Jordan shook her head. “Two. Better for travelling.”

“Hm. Okay. Two. But the first jersey we’re buying them is a Nobbs England kit.”

Jordan didn’t think she’d ever felt so happy in her life. These were the conversations they’d avoided previously. Only now did she realise it was because they weren’t ready for them then. They were now. They were all in it, now. And she knew that Leah would drop everything if Jordan wanted that. But she didn’t.

Jordan had reached the point in her life where she wanted to finish her career and go out on her own terms. She was already thinking about the future. She hoped she’d be lucky enough to bring their kids to Leah’s games if she were still playing. To be fair, Leah was the type of person who would play well into her mid to late 30s. She was the leader the team needed. She thrived on the pitch, and off it.

The only thing that had made her feel uneasy was the thought of finding a job after it, when the entirety of her life had been as a football player. It was a career with such a short life-span, though her first thought was YFN and the conversations they’d had about what she’d do after she retired. Jordan wasn’t the interviewing type, though knowing YFN, she’d find the perfect job for her.

Jordan’s thoughts were interrupted by Leah reaching out to cup her cheek and stroke it with her thumb.

“I have two more conditions.”

Jordan raised her eyebrow. It was cheeky given all that she’d offered from her side already.

“Go on, then.”

“I know we had the kiss at the game on Friday… but I want us to make it official on social media.” She requested. “Only if you’re comfortable with it, of course. I don’t want us to be dancing around the media. Let’s tell everyone on our own terms.”

This was a slight surprise as previously; it had been Leah to ask that they didn’t make it official. To be fair, they’d grown a lot in a year, and she completely understood Leah’s want to keep her private life private given just how famous she was.

“Okay, Lea. But… only after tonight. When the situation with Mark is sorted out.”

Leah nodded. “Agreed.”

“And the second condition?”

Leah paused, her eyes flicking between Jordan’s as if searching for something. Whatever it was, she seemed to find it.

“Marry me, Jordan.”

YFN POV

YFN was looking down at the colourful keychain in her hand, fiddling with it to stop her hands from trembling. The yellow key was for Lucy’s Spanish apartment. The blue for her place in Manchester. The red for her… for their place in London. The black fob for Miles. She bit her lip.

“Hey, love,” Lucy eased, reaching out to touch one of her dimples as they pulled up to a red light. “Your dimples are working overtime. What’s wrong..?”

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to lean into Lucy’s hand. “I’m just a little nervous, Luce.”

“About Mark?”

She nodded, kissing her palm and lowering it to tangle their fingers as Lucy began to drive again.

“It’ll all be sorted tonight.”

“I’m not so sure. He’s not one to back down so easily. It’s his child…”

Lucy was silent, though YFN could see her jaw twitch slightly, betraying the feeling inside her. It made them all uncomfortable.

“I did some research on them…” she murmured, her grip tightening on Lucy’s hand. She stroked patterns into the back of it absentmindedly with her sling hand as it hung there. Lucy loved being touched by her and she knew it would ease her. Especially with the topic of conversation. “They were beautiful. Young. Talented. They loved reading fantasy and fiction. They adored female footballers. They used to write in their school newspaper, and loved JK more than anything…” She paused and took a deep breath. “Callie wrote this article about when they came out to Mark on the roof of their house. They were always the tomboy in the family. The one their dad wanted to be a boy. One day they were up fixing the tiles on the roof together when Callie told him…”

Although she didn’t say anything, she knew Lucy was listening intently. “…they were worried he’d react badly or perhaps even push them from the roof. He didn’t. He sat with them on the roof and offered them a beer. They watched the sunset in silence until he said, ‘You’ll always be the best part of me.’ He offered to pay for all of their surgery. Callie said in the article that it was the best day of their life.”

Lucy cleared her throat but didn’t say anything. YFN continued. “They titled it: ‘The sunset that changed my life.’ It was a beautifully written article. I wish I had a talent like them at that age. After that, Callie’s story spread throughout high school like you would expect, though worse. They were bullied. Dragged into classrooms and beaten. Mark tried to stop it when he realised. They survived by burying their head into football… and books. Fantasy. Anything creative and world-building. Just wanting an escape…”

“And then the comments…” Lucy muttered.

“And then the comments,” she whispered, wondering if Joanne knew the harm she’d done. “That was the final straw.”

Lucy pulled into a carpark and stopped. “Little one?”

“Luce?”

She turned to her with a serious, caring look on her face. “I’m going to be a good parent, aren’t I?”

Her heart melted. How could she even think that she wouldn’t? “You asking that question proves that you will be, Luce.” She raised her hand to kiss it. “You’re going to be such a good mum, that I find myself daydreaming about it whenever I see you with Alzira and Freddie. And your fans, Luce. You’re going to make such a good parent, I promise. And regardless, we’re in this together.”

“I want them to have more opportunities than I did.” She admitted with that strong, Northumberland accent of hers.

“We’ll give them the world, and make sure they know how lucky they are. Let’s start by giving Mark the closure he needs for Callie.”

Lucy smiled and nodded, satisfied.

She put the car into drive and drove into the closest drive-thru. “Hungry already?”

She gave an offended look. “I was getting you a hot chocolate to calm your nerves…”

When YFN heard her order a hot chocolate, a coffee and some snacks, she rolled her eyes at the lie and received a cheeky Lucy grin in return.

They arrived at the airport around 6pm, boarding slightly earlier than the Lionesses, though they were on separate flights. They parked up Miles in a designated bay, and once their luggage was collected, they were driven to the aircraft. It was a small, private plane, something she’d been in before with Ridley. Though Riddles had nothing to do with this one.

This was all Catherine.

Lucy carried her up the stairs and placed her down gently at the top. They greeted the pilots and crew, before seeing that Leah and Jordan were already onboard and ready to go.

They greeted them and sat down near each other, strapping in. Lucy laid out her snacks on the table, and YFN her laptop. Every second closer to their meeting, she became more nervous.

She felt Lucy’s hand take hold of her thigh formly and realised she was bouncing her leg. It automatically stopped at the feeling of Lucy there. She took a deep breath and calmed herself, taking a sip of her hot chocolate.

It was then that she remembered exactly what he’d done to Leah and Dory. They had much more reason to be nervous than she did.

With a gentle smile, she looked over to her friends opposite them who both seemed more excited than nervous. They kept staring at each other and catching themselves, smiling like idiots. YFN tilted her head, pondering over it. It was too obvious to miss… or so she thought. She looked over at Lucy who was very unaware, instead fully focussed on the food she was munching away on, seemably happy with her choices.

She turned back to Dory as she looked at Leah, blushed, and looked away, directly at YFN who caught her. She felt her mouth drop open. Dory’s eyes widened as she realised she knew.

“Something you care to share with the group?”

Lucy stopped mid-chew and looked at the pair. She was terrible at social cues, and YFN had always wondered whether it was the ADHD or if she simply wasn’t interested.

Suddenly, she was choking.

“Luce, are you okay? What is it?”

She kept choking, her face going slightly red as she pointed to Dory’s hand. And the giant fucking rock on it.

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x f! Painter Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author's Note: I write these at work and I work nightshift all alone in a little gatehouse, right? I kid you not 3 coyotes were staring at me through the door and I didn't even notice. I saw them running by on the cameras but I honestly thought it was just a group of feral cats cause they were so small.

Anyways, thank you for 300 followers!! I'm geekin' out over that! And Friday morning the last chapter will be out 😈🙏

Cross-posted on AO3

Session 5: Finishing Touches

The word excited was a vast understatement when it came to seeing you again.

Leon's heart was thrumming against his chest as he stood silently in front of your apartment door. His hand was raised up halfway, ready to knock, but a sudden wave of anxiety was holding him back. He was at your apartment. Your apartment.

The drive over was relatively short, it was closer than your workspace, yet he felt confident the entire way here. Now here he was, frozen in place, worried his knock would be too loud or make him seem desperate, even. A ridiculous thought, obviously the man knew that, but it gripped his mind nonetheless.

You must've had a sixth sense, having opened the door before he'd built up the courage to actually knock, when all reality you just recognized the sound of his motorcycle at this point. The sweet smile you gave Leon was enough to draw him into your apartment. He was quick to take his jacket off since he was sweating bullets, hanging it up on the coat rack next to your front door.

You could tell he was nervous just by how jittery he was, it was endearing yet worrisome at the same time. Seeing how worked up you made him was adorable, but at the same time you didn't want him to feel uncomfortable around you.

"Sit wherever, Mr. Kennedy. My house is yours." You placed a hand on his bicep to try and ease him, smile still remaining as you watched him survey the living room. A quiet laugh fell from his lips as he trained his eyes on you. "It's Leon, please. Making me feel real old over here..." You rolled your eyes with a playful groan. It was just a formality you'd trained yourself to respond with when it came to clients. A hard habit to break since you'd never really dated any of them before now.

With a gentle pat, you slowly turned and walked off into your admittedly small kitchen where the faint sound of boiling water could be heard. It took a few seconds before Leon decided to follow you, not totally convinced to take a seat just yet. You glanced over your shoulder at him before turning back to reach up into one of your cabinets, pulling out a couple mismatched mugs. "You like chai?" He nodded, licking his lips at the idea of something to drink.

The man could only stand awkwardly a few feet behind you and watch as you grabbed a couple tea bags from another cabinet, setting reach bag in their respective mug. An electric kettle sitting atop your counter beeped once it reached the selected temperature, prompting you to grab the handle and pour the water into the mugs.

You covered the mugs to let them steep, turning around to lean back against the edge of your counter so you could look at Leon. He looked like a lost puppy, hands in the pockets of his jeans as he took in your kitchen. With a sympathetic sigh, you pushed yourself from the counter and looped your right arm through his, leading him out of the kitchen back towards your living room. "Get comfortable, I'll bring the tea over here, okay?"

He just let you lead him over to the couch, sitting down at your request with a meek nod. He really should be more confident than this, but he was far out of practice when it came to women. The idea of messing this up for himself was terrifying.

Leon's head followed you as you walked around to the front of the couch, watching as you set the mugs on the coffee table before sitting down next to him. He rested his hands on top of his thighs, eyes now stuck to the tea placed in front of him.

"Are you feeling alright? You look like you're gonna throw up." You meant this in a joking manner, even giggling a bit as you spoke, but Leon's head jerked away from the tea to look at you, eyebrows furrowed with worry as he shook his head. "No-.. No, I'm okay, just... Can I be honest?"

That kind of question never failed to make you nervous, and he was quick to pick up on that, clearing his throat after stumbling over his words. "It's... It's been a long time since I've done anything like this. Seeing someone."

Your mouth formed a small 'o' shape at his confession before falling back to that same sweet smile that you welcomed him in with. "You're right to be nervous, Leon. But hey," you paused to scoot closer to him, ".. I've had the privilege to learn a bit of backstory from you already, and after working with a few other agents before you, I have a general idea on just how taxing that kind of job can be."

Leon tightened his lips as he listened to you, worry still plain on his face. You were right and maybe that's why he grew to like you so easily. He didn't have to explain anything since you already knew the basic gist of it all, holding a level of understanding that most other potential partners wouldn't have.

You reached in front of him to grab the mug, carefully placing it in one of his hands before reaching further to grab the other, now having him hold the mug with both hands. He kept fidgeting with his jeans, clearly needing something to hold onto.

"I won't pry, the details of your job seem pretty intense, but I want you to know that I'll never turn you away, relationship or not." You'd grabbed your own mug now, looking down as you pinched your index and thumb on the paper end to the tea bag to jostle it a bit. "You've more than earned the time you have now to just be yourself."

Leon swallowed dryly, turning his attention down to where he was holding the mug in his lap. He didn't even know he needed to hear those words, but dammit were they definitely hitting home.

"Thank you." He managed to say, voice meek and slightly scratchy from just how dry his mouth had become. "You... have a way with words?" He breathed out a chuckle to which you followed up with a laugh of your own. Despite feeling so vulnerable and awkward, he still managed to make a joke.

You closed your eyes as you brought the mug up to your lips, taking a sip of the now perfectly warm tea before opening them again to give the man next to you a smirk. "What a charmer you are, huh?"

And just like every other time the two of you had been around each other, Leon started to relax by the hour; talking more, joking more, getting closer to you, and once you both finished up the tea, he held onto your hand with his own.

He followed you around your apartment when you excitedly asked to give him a tour. It was small, a very humble one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, but to Leon it was probably the most comfortable place he'd ever been. So similar to your workplace in terms of decor, but now it was full of your more personal items.

The smell of the tea from earlier was beginning to fade, making way for the smell of just you, such a pleasant and intoxicating smell to the man.

Your bedroom was the biggest culprit so far, the two of you winding up sitting on the edge of your bed. Shamefully, he'd zoned out as you rambled on about whatever, just soaking in the feel of your comforter beneath his hands. It was soft, but definitely not as soft as your lips were.

While Leon was zoned out, his eyes had gotten stuck again, this time on your lips as they moved. You were focused somewhere else, looking forwards, not really paying attention to where he was staring. He so badly wanted to kiss you again, the last kiss didn't last nearly as long as he would've liked it to.

Leon knew his words would fail him and he wanted to act before his nerves got the better of him, leading him to moving his eyes up to yours, his hand reaching to gently hold under chin so he could turn your head to face him.

The feel of his hand caused you to pause your ramble, letting him turn your head to face him. He looked so handsome with that wanting look, his eyes flittering from your own and back down to your lips.

He seemed to know what he wanted, so you opted to just let him slowly pull you closer into a kiss, eyes closing as your lips touched his. It was a little longer than the kiss you shared the night before, but after pulling away and seeing the shy smile you had, he couldn't help but pull you right back in.

His eyebrows furrowed, hands finding their way to your back to pull you closer, one between your shoulder blades while the other on the small of your back. You arched against his touch, letting him angle you the way he wanted. Leon's hands moved to make way for his arms, biceps flexing as he tightly wrapped them around you. He had to hold on tight, fearing he would lose his little slice of heaven if he didn't.

Your lips felt amazing against his, so soft and pillowy. And god, the way your skin felt when he shifted one of his rough hands up under your shirt. He needed more, all of you.

He let out a low groan, almost a growl as he nibbled on your bottom lip before moving down to your neck. He leaned back a bit so his shoulders were resting against the head of the bed frame, managing to pull you even closer so your chest was pressed up a little higher than his, his head buried into the crook of your neck.

You breathed out a shaky breath as his hands began to wander again, still underneath your shirt. They went up and down your back, moving down to occasionally squeeze your waist. You made the prettiest sounds when he did.

Leon felt so needy, holding onto you like this, for dear life. He couldn't help it. You were his lifeline right now.

His lips trailed along the underside of your jaw and down the front of your throat, making sure to leave a trail of hickeys in their wake. He could feel you swallow and the vibrations from your moans, loving how alive you felt in his grasp.

You ran your fingers through his hair before gently tugging him away from your neck, tilting his head back ever so slightly so he was looking up at you. He was panting, breath cold against your spit-covered neck. You gave him the most endearing look, one hand trailing down to cup the side of his face. You didn't want him to worry even for a second.

"I'm not going anywhere." You whispered, running your thumb along his bottom lip before bringing him into another kiss. His grip on you loosened enough for you to carefully slide down and settle your upper half into his lap.

Leon's lip quivered as he watched you, hands trembling once you'd slid out of his grasp. Your words were comforting, but he couldn't hold onto you the way he wanted when you were down there. Though, with the way you rested your cheek against the bulge straining in his jeans, he wasn't all that worried anymore.

You watched your hand with a lazy smile as you stroked him over his jeans, both arms resting on his thighs to keep them spread apart. Leon needed love and care and you were more than willing to help him make up for the lost time.

After unbuckling his belt and pulling it off, you unzipped his jeans, sitting up to pull them down in the front. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, silently asking for permission to which he eagerly nodded his head. He even reached his hands down to help, but you swatted them away.

"Let me take care of you..." Carefully, you pulled the front end of his boxers down far enough for his cock to spring out and then up against his stomach, already leaking precum. Leon groaned as the cool air hit it, causing his hips to jerk up a bit.

You didn't want to tease the poor man, so you reached your hand up and gripped the base, pulling it upright and to the side slightly. You stroked him languidly before placing a gentle kiss against the shaft. He whined, his legs now starting to shiver from the adrenaline.

Leon never could've imagined he'd get this far with you tonight, let alone get to watch you stroke his dick while giving it kisses and little kitten licks. A pitiful moan was pulled from him when you wrapped your lips around the tip to suck, your hand now stroking him faster.

You were so careful with him, focusing on his pleasure, having even stopped a couple times to make sure he was feeling good and also just to tell him how good he was doing.

With his cock now deep in your throat, tears were streaming down his face, small sobs falling from his lips as you bobbed your head up and down. It was all so much; the smell of your bedding, the feeling your mouth wrapped around him, the sound of his own weak little cries hitting his ears.

"I'm-.. God I'm sorry- I-" He spoke breathlessly through the moans and sobs, hands fisted into your comforter as he began to worry he'd chase you away. You pulled your mouth off of him, hand moving from holding the base to stroking him again. "You're doing such a good job, Leon. Just let go for me.." With your hushed words, you quickly put your mouth back around him, going right back to deepthroating him.

His orgasm surfaced fast, throwing his head back with a high pitched whine as he all so suddenly came down your throat. After pulling away, you gave the tip of his cock a gentle kiss before tucking it back into his boxers for him, staring up at him while running your hand along his thigh.

It was hard for him to look down at you, his head feeling heavy. A few small tears fell here and there, but now he was able to give you a tired smile. "Was that alright?" You asked him again, voice raspy from deepthroating the man.

Leon huffed out through his nose, smile widening as he quickly sat up, reached down, and pulled you up so your chest was pressed against his again. He wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly once more before burying his face into your neck.

It would've taken years for him to open up like that with anyone else, but it was different with you. You already knew, you understood, you were patient with him.

You made him feel weak in the best way possible. For once in his life he didn't need to be that strong, stone-cold agent who didn't bat an eye at death. With you, he could be soft.

It only took a few more sessions for Leon's portrait to be finished. All that needed to get done was some finishing touches since little things tend to get smudged along the way. All a part of the process.

Unfortunately for Leon, you didn't let him see the final product, blocking his every attempt to see it while saying something about "You don't get to see the bride before the wedding!" Whatever that meant.

When you told him it would take about two months to dry, he turned into the biggest man-child you've ever seen. Leon was just as bad as Chris in that sense, only difference being Claire was there to help contain Chris when he tried to see their portrait. Now you were left to deal with Leon's shenanigans all on your own.

No matter how much he begged and pleaded, you didn't relent. Hell, you even chased him out of the building with a dirty paintbrush. Two months was too long to wait for something like that. You were basically torturing him.

Luckily for you and him, it was easy to distract the man with the promise of a comfortable night at your apartment with some takeout. Afterwards, he really only ever asked about the portrait when he saw you working on something else. By now you'd hidden the painting away from his prying mind to give it time to dry. Out of sight, out of mind.

In the meantime, you would sketch him at random; while he was sitting on your couch, with his glasses on, naked on the bed posing for you "like one of your french girls", which was pretty funny yet surprisingly helpful. It had been a long time since you had the chance to draw a nude model, and what better than the ex-agent you'd grown so fond of?

Now it was just a matter of playing the waiting game. Leon's portrait was made to be extra special, secretly working on it while he was sleeping or off at the gym. Sure it prolonged the drying process, but you can't rush perfection in the end.

tags!: @greywardensaywhat @xkittiecatx @httpsuguru @k-fallingstar @lysa1201 @bobastayhigh @pocketstoriesstore @agent-dessis-posts @klee-iii @missjoenowhere @bbjposay @lazuliglace @bigtiddiesimp @finsternisle @sweets3rial @sodacolablast (there's a few of you that tumblr wouldn't let me tag for some reason 😭)