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egcdeath · 1 year

Text

clean sheet

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: nothing stirs the pot like your ex-husband, gossipy soccer moms, and a weekend-long soccer tournament. (part two of spectator sport)

word count: 7.7k

warnings: canon divergent: no apocalypse, implied past emotional abuse, jealousy/misunderstanding, kinda angsty in the beginning but verrrry fluffy at the end, insecurities, there was only one bed, mutual pining, sarah and chloe being menaces as usual

author’s note: this past week has been extremely rough. like, ao3 author’s note apologizing for being gone rough, so i’m just as surprised as you are that i was able to write 7,000 words of a part two to spectator sport. enjoy!

part 3 / series masterlist

Tournament season was nothing short of an absolute pain in the ass. It was a pain in the ass when you were married and able to evenly split your responsibilities, and it’s even more of a pain in the ass now that your ex-husband has decided to participate minimally in all soccer related ventures.

To be completely honest, it seemed like it wasn’t just soccer ventures your ex wasn’t too enthused to partake in, as Nathan had ditched most of his fatherly duties whenever a new, younger girlfriend was in the picture. But that was neither here nor there.

Despite Nathan taking Chloe to her past few games this season—you were completely swamped with work and you had practically gotten on your knees and begged for him to take her to them—he didn’t seem to have any interest in assisting you with tournaments.

That was fine and good. You knew about the events far enough in advance to move some meetings around, block off some time, and cross your fingers and hope that nothing came up unexpectedly in the days prior to your game. Although, what you couldn’t account for was your car completely breaking down on your way back from a bagel shop the morning before you were meant to be on the road for the next three hours.

But alas, the universe had its way of kicking you when you were already down, leaving you biting back tears in the passenger seat of a tow truck as you attempted to figure out a Plan B.

“Please, Nathaniel,” you pleaded over the phone, pacing back and forth in your bedroom as you tried your absolute best to hold the last bits of your composure together.

“I’ve been at her last three games,” it was impossible to miss the sneer in his voice as if his own daughter was the biggest burden in the world. “And where have you been? It’s practically been a month.”

“Where have I been?” you laughed out of anger and at the absurdity of his words. You knew that he knew for a fact that you’d been drowning in work. “Nathaniel. You know how my work has been. Please just do this one thing for your child. It’s the fucking weekend. It’s not like you’re doing anything else.”

“It’s always work with you. You know, this is why I couldn’t be with you anymore. You were always so selfish with your time and inconsiderate with mine,” he sighed dismissively. “And for the record, Claire and I have a reservation tonight. So I am doing something else.”

It was staggering how minimized and powerless he made you feel after every interaction despite how little he actually was in your life. Every time you interacted with the man you thanked whatever forces out there that you somehow found it in yourself to leave.

You huffed and blinked away tears, hugging yourself to attempt to bring yourself some sort of comfort. After signing the papers, you told yourself you would never waste one single tear on the man again. You wouldn’t let a little argument like this change that promise.

“Can I at least borrow your car?” you sounded so meek and desperate, but you were running out of options, and with every passing minute you had less and less options.

Instead of responding, Nathan simply laughed at you before ending the call. Humiliated didn’t even begin to cover how you felt about the whole situation.

You angrily wiped away the hot tears that had slipped down your face without your permission and sighed as you evaluated what options you had left. You could take an Uber, but it would be ridiculously expensive. You could rent a car, but Chloe was bound to get stains and dirt tracked throughout the vehicle. Anything else was far too short notice.

You flopped down onto your bed and screamed into your pillow. The stress from your overfilled work week combined with an extremely inconvenient situation was taking its toll on you, but you needed to figure something out.

Maybe you could carpool with someone. Although, you weren’t sure who was still in town, as most of the families liked to leave at the ass crack of dawn. If that wasn’t enough, you weren’t exactly sure you wanted to sit in a small contained space with some of those families for a prolonged period of time.

Maybe you could ‘borrow’ Nathan’s car regardless of what he said. You were sure his new girlfriend had a car–if she was even old enough to drive one–and they could certainly take that car to their ever-important reservation tonight. Although, maybe getting a grand theft auto charge in order to make it to a soccer tournament wasn't your greatest idea.

You were deep in the eye of a brainstorm when a soft little knock rapped against your door, seconds before Chloe peeked her head in.

“Hi mom,” she greeted, completely unaware of the extent of your conundrum. “Sarah can’t find her cleats and wanted to know if she could borrow one of mine. Where do you keep my old ones?”

Joel.

Oh shit, Joel.

Joel who you’d accidentally ghosted after the promise of a date. With work and ex-spousal drama, you hadn’t even had a moment to think about the date. A knot tied in your stomach as you thought about how you’d treated him. He probably thought you were icing him out on purpose.

“They should be downstairs in the front closet under the coats,” you informed her. “You almost ready to go?”

“What does it look like?” she retorted sassily, doing a little spin for you to show off her full soccer attire.

“Alright,” you chuckled, trying to keep it together for just a while longer. “Go find those cleats.”

With that, she was off, and you were alone with just one option.

You dialed the number that you’d only texted once, and bit your lip as the phone rang out. The knot in your stomach tied and untied with each ring of the phone, nausea rattling you as you thought about all the ways he could answer. He’d probably be pissed that you were only reaching out to him now, only when you needed something from him. He’d probably tell you off, just like Nathan, and laugh at you over the phone over the mere prospect of hitching a ride with him.

After three rings, Joel finally picked up, saying your name aloud, as if he was genuinely surprised to be hearing from you.

“Joel, I’m so sorry,” you took a deep breath and attempted to hold back the wave of emotions coming over you. This stupid stressful morning. This stupid stressful month. And stupid you for leaving a good man waiting for you. A good man who was probably moments away from becoming a bad man, like every other one that seemed to appear in your life.

“My car broke down this morning and I don’t have any other way to get to the tournament. Is there any way we can carpool? I’ll literally pay you to take us. I’ll drive Sarah to school for the rest of the school year. Hell, I’ll take her to games too. Just… please.” It felt like you were talking a million miles a minute.

“Hey, take a breath,” he said, clearly picking up on the frantic energy you were radiating through the phone. “We’re heading out in about twenty minutes. We’ll swing by your place. And don’t worry about all that other stuff, okay? Just take a big breath. I’ll see you soon.”

You were flooded with relief as you spoke your gratitude and hung up. It almost felt odd to not have someone go off on you for waiting so last minute to reach out for help, or for not reaching out to them after you said that you would. You were puzzled, and not completely sure what you did to deserve someone like Joel in your life, but you were grateful to have him regardless. Especially now that he was coming to save the day.

Sure enough, around twenty minutes later, a pickup truck arrived in front of your house, and Chloe was sprinting to go sit with her friend in the backseat, still overjoyed from the news that she would be traveling with her friend.

Timidly, you entered the car, still anticipating a stern lecture or even a scolding for being a shitty mom, and an even worse potential partner. “I really can’t thank you enough for this, Joel,” you expressed before he had the chance to speak, hoping that if you expressed your gratitude before he had the chance to yell at you, the blow would be lessened. You kept your eyes down as you sat down and set your overnight bag in front of you.

“Of course. You know, I still owe you a favor after that dinner fiasco,” he glanced over at you and smiled, and some of that fear you had been holding onto began to melt away. Although, you blanched at the mention of the date that you were meant to go on, but hadn’t had the chance to do so. Yet, there didn’t seem to be any malice behind Joel’s words.

“I guess we’re even?” you offered, looking over at the man to attempt to read him as he slung his arm around the back of the headrest and looked through the rearview mirror as he pulled out.

“Yeah,” he said shortly, almost… dejectedly? Maybe you were reading into it too much. After all, his attention was split between you and getting out of your driveway safely.

Regardless of what anyone was feeling, your journey began with the girls in the back chatting amongst themselves and a slightly weighted silence between the two of you in the front while the sound of radio filled in for the lack of conversation between you and Joel.

You spent the majority of the ride looking out your window, deep in thought. You tried not to let Nathan get under your skin all that often, but maybe he was right about the way you spent your time. You’d practically thrown away your shot at any relationship with the man next to you, simply because you were too busy and forgot about a promise you’d made.

You tried to focus on the excited chatter in the seat behind you, and less on the venomous words Nathan had given you over the years, but it was a difficult task. Paired with the fact that you were still waiting for the shoe to drop and Joel to go off on you, it wasn’t the most pleasant time.

After about an hour of driving (and in your case, brooding), you had to make a stop at the gas station, as the truck was running low on fuel. You reached for your wallet and grabbed a twenty dollar bill, then passed it back to the girls behind you. “Go get some snacks for us?”

“Of course!” Chloe cheered, hopping out of the car and racing Sarah into the entrance of the gas station.

Joel was definitely going to go off on you now that the kids were gone. You held your breath as you got out of the car, leaning against the hood of the vehicle as Joel stood by the pump, his eyes fixed on his vehicle.

“I can’t tell you just how sorry I am. About not reaching out to you to go out sometime, and for having to ask you so last minute to take us to the tournament. I’ve just been absolutely swamped with work, and Natha-“

“You’re fine,” Joel cut you off as he acknowledged your apology, keeping his gaze trained on the car. Here it comes. “You don’t need to apologize. Sometimes life just throws a bunch of shit at us at once.”

You nodded in agreement, your breathing picking up as you waited for the condescension or lecture to begin. Yet… it never came. You weren’t sure if he was as upset as you suspected, but Joel was certainly feeling more than he was willing to let on. The lack of eye contact and his slightly off responses told you that much.

“Is everything okay?” you finally asked, trailing off. “You’ve barely said a word all trip.”

“Everything is fine. I’m just tired,” he rubbed his forehead with his hand.

“Well, if you’re tired, I can drive us the rest of the way over and you can sleep. That way you’ll be rested for the game,” you offered, taking a daring step towards him, and setting your hand on his bicep—a peace treaty of sorts. And maybe a hint that you were still interested in whatever sparks had been evident before.

Joel immediately stiffened under your touch, and subtly rejected the motion. He glanced over at you for just a moment before looking back down at the gas pump and shut his eyes. “That’d be great. I’m really exhausted.”

While you could believe that maybe Joel was just tired, there had to be more to the story. The way he rejected your subtle touch and the way he just couldn’t seem to meet your eyes told you that much. Perhaps you underestimated just how hurt he was by you not making plans with him, although it wasn’t like he’d reached out to you to set something up. In fact, the last time you heard from him was the night before the girls’ game following their team dinner.

“Of course. Go ahead and get back in the car, I can take everything from here.”

The rest of the ride wasn’t too long, but you were happy to contribute after asking for such a last minute favor. You drove straight to the grounds that the team was playing on that afternoon, as you were already pushing it on time, and certainly did not have time to go check into your hotel yet.

Your kids jogged off to greet their team and warm up with them, leaving you alone with Joel once again as you grabbed fold-out chairs from the back of his truck.

“You feeling any better now after sleeping?” you asked, turning to look at him and inspect his face for any suspicious expressions.

“Yeah, definitely,” he affirmed, but his words didn’t exactly match what it was you had observed. He closed his trunk and began to walk away, and you followed after him, feeling a bit like a lost puppy.

“Joel, really. You can tell me what’s wrong,” you practically pleaded, part of you still waiting for the moment he would tell you off.

“I already told you,” his tone was defensive, and when he turned back to look at you, the agitation was clearly painted on his face. “Nothing is wrong.”

You were taken aback, but understood that you had crossed some sort of boundary in your continuous pressing of what was wrong. You felt more like a kicked puppy than a lost one as you walked out to the fields behind Joel, setting your chair up close to him, but with a little more distance between the two of you than what you would have preferred.

You didn’t talk much during the game, outside of cheering for your daughters and momentarily celebrating when one of them pulled something impressive off.

Although you didn’t interact much, it still felt nice to be back at a game after being gone for the past few weeks. And honestly, it felt even more nice to be back in Joel’s presence after those weeks, even if it was clear that something had shifted between the two of you.

When the second game began, you were surprised to come back from your short leg-stretch walk to find another chair placed next to Joel’s—and a woman happily chatting his ear off.

A pang of jealousy struck your gut as you observed the two of them. It was no secret that most of the moms (and some of the dads) on the team (and other teams) saw the same things in Joel that you did. But you had absolutely no right to feel jealous, considering the way you’d basically led him on, and you had absolutely no reason to believe that there was anything romantic going on between them.

But you felt unwell anyway.

You urged yourself not to look at them for too long, instead focusing on the game in front of you, but the sounds of their voices and the way their conversation easily flowed was far too distracting. Just the rotten cherry on top of an already shitty day.

You felt ridiculous and childish sitting there with jealousy burning deeply in your stomach as you mentally ran through all of the things you could have done differently. Maybe if you’d texted Joel the night of your dinner and found a day where you both weren’t busy to go out together, or if you’d just said no to taking on a few extra hours, you’d be the one giggling and playing with your hair as you chatted up Joel.

It was official: you couldn’t torture yourself with staying one more moment with the two of them. Instead, you shot out of your uncomfortable little chair, and hauled your jealous little ass over to the concession stand. If you couldn’t go back in time and fix all the mistakes you’d made leading up to today, at least you could stuff your face full of peanut M&Ms until you felt better.

As you focused on tearing the yellow plastic with a little more force than what was necessary, you completely missed Alice—one of the more gossipy mothers on the team—approaching you.

“Hey babe,” she greeted cheerily. “We haven’t seen you in a few weeks. Where’ve you been?”

Your mouth was currently filled with candy, so it took you a second to respond. “Work,” you said in between chewing. “I barely had time to breathe, let alone bring Chloe to her games, so I had to basically beg on my knees for a little help from her father. Speaking of which, how was Nathan?”

“Oh,” Alice paused and looked off to the side, a little too guiltily for your liking. “Yeah, he was fine.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, brows furrowed at her strange reaction.

“Yeah! He was great. It’s just…” she trailed off and offered you an awkward smile. “We thought you two were maybe back together. You know, with the whole co-parenting thing.”

Your eye twitched. So the parents of the team were gossiping and theorizing about your love life. Great. That’s probably what was wrong with Joel—word had gotten back to him that you and Nathan were playing house again. No wonder he was putting such distance between you.

“Babe,” you tried not to let the annoyance you were experiencing reflect too much into your tone, “why would you tell people we were back together? Bringing your own child to their sports events is not exactly groundbreaking or relationship material.”

You were now gritting your teeth as the irritation really started to sink in. Joel probably didn’t reach out to you for your date since these fucking real housewives you were surrounded by had decided to spread baseless rumors about you from the moment your ex had stepped onto the sideline.

You were wrong. This was the rotten cherry on top of the absolute dogshit milkshake of a day you’d had.

“I’m sorry,” Alice didn’t sound as remorseful as you wish she did. You knew that deep down, she was enjoying this little game and would be more than happy to spread this information back to her friends. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“It’s fine, the damage is done,” you sighed, shoving a handful of candy in your mouth.

“Have you seen Joel and Cindy, though? They’re so cute together!”

It was now clearer than ever that Alice was only interacting with you to stir the pot, so you simply put on the best fake smile you could muster and nodded. “Adorable. Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go sit back down. I haven’t seen Chloe play in a few weeks, and she was doing so well in the last game, I’m sure she’s doing great now too!”

You didn’t wait for a response before walking off, attempting to suppress all of the feelings you were having with this new information you’d been given. In the three weeks you’d been gone, Alice had convinced the team that you and Nathan were back together, and Joel had already moved on. If you hadn’t cared so much about Chloe’s passions, you would’ve had her quit on the spot. You simply could not handle any more of this soccer parent culture.

Sitting back down in your seat, you offered Joel an M&M, to which he politely declined. You wondered if there was a way for you to casually explain that you and Nathan were not and would not ever be an item again, but then again, it seemed like with Cindy in the picture, the ship of making anything work with you two had sailed.

You attempted to focus on your daughter, who unsurprisingly was doing quite well in the game. You were glad that no matter how shitty your day was turning out, your kin was at least having a better day—and having fun doing it.

You simply went through the motions through the rest of the day, squeezing your daughter tight with a hug when all of the games for the day were finished and telling Sarah about how great of a job she did, then falling back into a somewhat uncomfortable silence on your drive to the hotel.

Checking in had proved to be… a bit of an odd situation. As you pocketed your room keys, Chloe made an odd offer—her and Sarah would share a room while you and Joel would share your own.

It shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did when your daughters proposed that you and Joel share a room so that they could have a sleepover, but it caught you off guard regardless.

You were hesitant for several obvious reasons, but their room was adjoined to yours, and there was a perfectly nice pull-out bed in the sofa, which meant there was absolutely no need to share a bed with Joel. After some consideration and discussion with the man who would be your roommate for the night, you ultimately settled on allowing it. You would take the sofa. Joel would take the bed.

Besides, it’s not like he’d be spending the majority of the night in the room. After a short conversation, he was getting dressed and going off to dinner with Cindy.

You tried not to feel bad for yourself for too long. You’d already spent the majority of the day feeling bad for yourself, whether it was for the shitty situations you found yourself in, or the way the moms on your team treated your love life like their favorite reality show.

Knocking on the door adjacent to your own, you were happy to see Chloe crack open her door.

“Hi girls,” you greeted. “What do you say to a pajama party?”

“Yes!” Chloe squealed, swinging her door wide open. Conveniently, they were already dressed the part, and were seemingly ready to wind down after a long day of physical activity.

After ordering an absurd amount of room service and having nothing short of a feast with your favorite pre-teens, the three of you sat on the floor under a blanket fort you’d constructed as you played Uno with some random network romcom playing in the background.

It felt like after a long day of holding your breath, you could finally let go of it, winding down with your two favorite children.

“Do you feel like you had a good day today?” you asked, placing a green three on top of the pile of cards.

“Yeah! I missed having you and my dad together at our games,” Sarah remarked, drawing a card.

Chloe nodded in agreement, setting down one of her own cards. “You really spice up our games. I think Joel yells a little louder at us when you’re here. He was pretty quiet when dad was bringing me.”

You tried not to let your emotions show on your face too much in front of the children, but it was undeniably sweet that you being around brightened Joel’s light, even now, when things were a little more awkward between the two of you. You simply hummed as you set down your card.

“Yeah, he kept asking me if I knew where you were,” Sarah drew a card then placed the card back down on the pile. “I think he missed you.”

So maybe Joel wasn’t as mad at you as you thought he was. Asking where you were had to be a good sign, right? Maybe it really just boiled down to him thinking you were back together with your ex-husband, and him not wanting to cross any boundaries.

“I think you’re our good luck charm. Did you see how well we played today?” Chloe asked, discarding a card. “Uno.”

“I think you guys are just good,” you set down a card. “Uno.”

“I dunno, when you were gone we kept losing,” Sarah set down a skip, causing Chloe to exclaim in frustration.

“Our friendship is over,” Chloe announced to Sarah for what must’ve been the third time that night.

“Mean it this time?” she teased.

“I swear!” the pair broke out into giggles as you set down your final card.

“We need to team up on you! How is it that you keep winning?” Sarah asked, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

“She’s a dirty cheater,” Chloe tutted. “Just ask her why we don’t play Monopoly anymore. Right, mom?”

“Hey!” you exclaimed. “It was a rough patch. I keep winning Uno because you two keep targeting each other. What happened to team work?”

“No such thing in Uno,” Sarah shrugged.

You laughed aloud, feeling some of your stress melting away with the motion, “you guys are too funny.”

Chloe yawned and reached for the pile in the middle of your little circle. “You can’t compliment your way out of this, cheater.”

“Ugh, whatever. I didn’t realize I raised such a sore loser.”

“Takes one to know one!” Chloe jeered.

“Sure,” you chuckled. “Well, I think it's this cheater’s bedtime. Can I help you guys undo the pillow fort?”

The girls agreed, and you helped take down the mess of blankets, chairs, and pillows as they began to wind down and settle into bed.

“Goodnight, girls,” you bid farewell as you approached the adjoining door. “If you need anything, just come on over, okay? Sweet dreams,” you blew kisses to both of them before going back over to your side of the room.

When you made it back to your room, Joel was already in bed, the soft light of the television illuminating his face in the otherwise dark room. The light from the screen and his pajamas were doing him all sorts of favors, making him look like he walked straight out of your domestic fantasy.

“When did you get back?” you asked as you grabbed your phone charger from your bag and approached the pull-out bed.

“Like, an hour ago,” he shrugged, leaning back against the headboard.

“You should’ve come over and played Uno with us,” you suggested, attempting to get cozy in your makeshift bed as you pulled the threadbare hotel blanket over your legs. “We had a little fort and everything.”

“Didn’t wanna intrude on your girls’ night,” he mumbled sleepily, hugging a pillow as he adjusted himself in bed.

“We would’ve been happy to have you,” you muttered, trying your best to relax in the rather uncomfortable makeshift bed.

Joel simply grunted in response, his eyes now shut. You could only assume that sleep set in quickly, and you’d now lost him to dreamland.

You stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. Part of you wished that this whole day was just an awful dream, and that you’d wake up the morning after the team dinner at Joel’s house, able to do everything all over again.

Rolling onto your side, you hoped that the shitty pull-out bed would become even slightly more comfortable, but your hope was to no avail. You sighed softly and closed your eyes, wondering if you started counting sheep, if it’d be any easier to fall asleep.

About fifteen sheep in, Joel’s soft voice calling your name pulled you out of whatever sleepy daze you’d been in.

“Hey, are you sleeping yet?” he practically whispered.

“No,” you responded, voice far above a whisper. “The floor would probably be more comfortable than this.”

“I told you you shouldn’t have taken the pull-out bed,” he goaded.

“You wanna get down here and sleep on it for me?”

“No. Well… Would it help you sleep better?”

“Joel,” you huffed.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” you listened as the bedsheets began to rustle.

“No, no, don’t do that. Your body needs an actual bed after all that hard manual labor you do. Lay back down.”

“Not if you can’t fall asleep because of that shitty bed. Trust me, I’ve slept in worse conditions.”

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. Now I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.”

Joel paused for a second, and you assumed he’d finally given up. Good.

Until he called your name once again. “Come up here and get a good night’s rest.”

“No,” you argued, though your sleepy brain was practically begging you to move to the comfier location. “You need it more than me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You snickered, “whatever you want it to mean.”

Silence on his end once again. Time to start herding your sheep.

“Why don’t we just share? There’s probably room for three of me on this bed.”

A bold proposition from a man who got back from a date only a few hours ago. A bold proposition that you were probably a bit too enthusiastic to take.

“Fine,” you huffed. “Only to get you off my ass.”

Every part of your body was thanking you as you slipped out of the shitty couch-bed and padded over to the empty side of the real bed. Tentatively, you got in bed and under the sheets, making sure to keep yourself on your side and keeping your back facing his.

“Goodnight, Joel.” you finally whispered.

“Goodnight,” he softly said your name, and you imagined the look on his face. Maybe in a different world, one where you’d gone on a date with him when the offer was on the table, you’d be in bed with him without the argument, with his arm wrapped around your waist as he wrapped you in a warm embrace, or with him hovering above you as you attempted to keep quiet in a hotel filled with guests who were more than willing to speculate about you.

It was nice to have someone in bed with you again. Even if all you had was the heat radiating off of the man next to you, and the sound of his deep breaths as he fell deeper and deeper into sleep. Despite all that had gone wrong in the day, and whatever Joel’s situation was with his date, somehow laying in bed with someone else made you feel at ease.

You didn’t have to count any more sheep to fall asleep that night.

When you woke up, Joel was already out of bed, pulling on a hat and slipping on his shoes. “Oh good, you’re awake,” he commented as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. “Wanna get complimentary breakfast before it goes away?”

You stretched out as you listened to the proposition, wondering if the phantom feeling of an arm around your waist during the night was real or just a dream. “You know me so well.”

Somehow, the tension between the two of you didn’t feel so heavy that morning. Maybe sleeping in bed together had helped to break the ice, or maybe some other variable was at play. Regardless, you were happy to feel like your relationship had gone back to what it had been a month ago, even if Joel really was beginning to form something with Cindy.

The hotel lobby wasn’t too busy when you and Joel went down. You were certainly grateful, as the fact that you had just rolled out of bed and gone to breakfast was more than obvious to anyone who’d looked at you for more than two seconds.

You were stirring endless circles into your coffee when Joel sat down across from you, sighing as he leaned back into his chair.

“Sleep well?” he asked before taking a hearty sip of his own coffee.

You held back a laugh and exchanged it for the slightest hint of a smile. If only he knew just how well you slept. “I guess,” you admitted. “I always sleep well in hotel beds.”

You were completely uncertain of how to address the bed-sized elephant in the room, or if it was even a good idea to do so. But the lack of coffee in your system and the remnants of sleep clouding your brain had lowered your inhibitions significantly, causing the next words to tumble out of your mouth.

“Thank you for letting me join you,” you involuntarily held your breath after saying so, too afraid to openly wait for his reaction.

“Of course,” he hummed, beginning to stab at some of the food on his plate. “I couldn’t just let you break your back on that couch-bed.”

“Well I appreciate it,” you began to pick at some of your own food, the two of you falling into a far more comfortable silence. Obviously something had shifted between the time of the game and now, but you couldn’t quite place it. Since you were already in the mood to address elephants in the room, you had no issue blurting, “How was your date last night?”

“Date?” Joel looked up from his scrambled eggs with a furrowed brow.

“With Cindy? From the other team?” you took a bite of toast and didn’t back down from the loaded eye contact going on between the two of you.

“Well, it wasn’t a date. Cindy’s married. Happily, I might add. Just catching up with a family friend.”

You were slightly taken aback, but not necessarily in a bad way. Suddenly, you felt silly for all the energy you’d wasted the day prior feeling jealous and bad for yourself, when you didn’t even know the full story.

“Well, what about Nathan? Is he a family friend?” it came out defensive, and you couldn’t particularly blame him for it. Finally some proof that this was what that weird tension had been all about.

Maybe if your mind was slightly more clear, you’d find it cute that you were both a little jealous over each other. Maybe you really hadn’t thrown away your chance at this thing the way you’d thought you did.

“No! I told you, I’ve been swamped with work. Like, getting home so late that I only see Chloe in the mornings and when I tuck her into bed, late. She needed to go to her games, and I knew there was only one person I could possibly guilt trip into bringing her. But I would rather marry the actual incarnation of Satan himself before spending another day with her father.”

“Oh,” Joel said quietly, lifting his disposable cup to his lips and seeming rather deep in thought.

“But you thought I was with him this whole time?”

“I guess?”

“And you still invited me into your bed?” you pressed, a hint of amusement in your voice.

“There was nothing inherently romantic or… sexual about that. I just didn’t want you to wake up in pain,” he set down his cup, but continued staring you down.

You shrugged. Solid answer, although you certainly wouldn’t be opposed to either alternative scenarios.

“But even if there was, it’s only because you deserve better than that man. And from what I’ve seen, pretty much any man is better than him.”

“Including you?” you pressed.

“What do you think?” the little smirk he was obviously trying to fight only egged you on.

“I think I agree with you. Except, I don’t love that you just assumed something about my relationship status because one of those human rumor mills told you it. Next time, you wait until you hear it from me, okay?”

“I normally would’ve, I guess I’m just so used to things not working out with me, my brain was just looking for a reason why this wouldn’t work out either.”

“To be fair, not contacting you after saying I’d go out with you is pretty solid grounds for thinking we wouldn’t work out. But at least let me take you on a date before we try to figure out if we’ll work out or not.”

“You still want to go on that date?” Joel asked, sounding more astonished than you would’ve expected.

“What do you think?” you winked, tossing his words right back at him.

Just as your exchange began to wrap up, you were joined by two sleepy kids, who most certainly heard part of your conversation about going on a date. You couldn’t even bother with feeling mortified, too high on the knowledge that you had yet another shot with Joel.

“How was your sleepover?” you asked the girls without missing a beat.

“Fun. We missed you, though,” Chloe sighed as she buttered up a bagel.

“Yeah, Uno’s not the same without you,” Sarah added as she began to cut up her pancakes.

“I’m flattered, girls. We’ll have to have an Uno tournament sometime and get Joel on it too. Mostly so he can witness me beating everyone’s ass at it.”

“Language, mom. And we all know you’re a cheater.”

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetie.”

“I don’t know, I kinda believe it,” Joel teased.

“Not you too, Joel! You’re supposed to be on my side,” you laughed.

Your table fell into comfortable conversation for the rest of breakfast before you had to send the girls off to go get ready for their games. You almost wanted to pinch yourself to check if you were still dreaming after waking up in this domestic paradise following the terrible day you’d had yesterday, but even if it was a dream, you weren’t sure you wanted to wake up.

The rest of the tournament went smoothly, with the ice sufficiently broken between you and Joel, and you even joining in on his conversations with Cindy as the three of you sat together. The girls’ team ultimately won, leading to some very happy passengers as you drove back home. As you exited Joel’s car, you gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and a whispered promise of going out with him soon. To think, when you’d started your weekend, you never would have believed it would end in this manner.

——

“Mom, hurry!” Chloe yelled up the stairs at you, sounding a little more impatient than what you would’ve liked.

You could understand where she was coming from. Following the end of the soccer season, Joel had been quite busy, and Chloe hadn’t been able to see her closest friend outside of school hours for quite some time. If you were Chloe, you’d probably be anxious to see Sarah too.

Hurrying down the stairs with a newfound sense of urgency, you gave your daughter a little side hug.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” you apologized, understanding her urgency a little too well.

“Don’t be sorry. Just be efficient,” she pulled away from you and checked out your clothing. Sure, it was 6 PM and you were already in your pajamas. Sue you for wanting to come back home after a long day at work and put on your softest cat-printed pajama pants. “That’s a good outfit.”

“Oh, thank you. I was actually invited to Paris Fashion Week, but-“

“You can tell me in the car!” she exclaimed as she scurried off, with you following behind the little slippery bastard.

In the car, Chloe seemed to be acting a little… suspicious. Although, you didn’t pay much mind to it, making small talk on the short drive over to her friend’s house. Her friend whose father you still hadn’t found time to go out with.

“Oh yeah, being here reminded me that Joel had something to tell you,” Chloe announced as you pulled into their driveway. “Come in with me?”

By now, you were slightly suspicious, but the idea of having some sort of confrontation by Joel about you not following through on your word once again overrode your suspicions of your child.

As Chloe rang the doorbell, Sarah swung the door open, smiling at her friend, then up at you.

“Hi, come on in!” she said sweetly, opening the door all the way and leading you inside.

As you walked in, your eyes caught on a makeshift pillow fort—one that oddly resembled the one you’d helped the girls make during their tournament. Cute.

“My dad’s inside. He wants to talk to you. See you later, bye!” Sarah talked quickly, and even quicker than her speech, she disappeared up the stairs with your daughter.

Something was definitely up.

You approached the fort with trepidation, and slowly pulled up a flap, where you found Joel dressed similarly to you in a loose shirt and plaid pajama pants, comfortably splayed out on his back while he seemed to be playing Candy Crush on his phone.

“Oh, hey,” you said awkwardly. “The girls said you wanted to talk to me?”

“Oh, hey,” he parroted back, seeming even more taken aback by your presence as he immediately sat up. “Uh, I actually didn’t know you were coming over?”

Oh.

It was always something with your kids. They knew how to scheme, and they knew how to scheme well.

“That’s fine,” you laughed to yourself about the situation. “I was gonna head out anyway. It was good to see you, and for the record, you clean up pretty well,” you teased, alluding to your similar mid-evening pajamas.

“Wait!” he said quickly, nearly cutting you off. “Sorry, wait. Don’t go yet. Unless you have somewhere else to be…?”

You shook your head and shrugged.

“I mean, obviously our kids set us up again, but we also haven’t followed through on that date yet. So maybe we can do it now?”

“Maybe,” you hummed as you sat down next to him on a mountain of pillows. “What would you want to do?” you asked, gently tapping his leg with your fuzzy-sock clad foot. (Chloe didn’t need to know that what was taking you so long was finding these god-forsaken socks.)

“Well, I’ve been wanting to take you out to some snobby, fancy restaurant,” he began.

“Oh?” you voiced, brows raised.

“But I don’t really think that’s either of our speeds.”

“Agreed. I don’t know where you’re going with this, but I’m liking it so far.”

“We also probably shouldn’t leave the girls home alone at night,” he continued to think out loud, his soft eyes never leaving your own. You almost felt like you were caught in a trance by them.

“So what do you suggest we do, Joel?” you asked.

“Well, we have this wonderful pillow fort already at our disposal. Maybe we can order some food and watch a movie?”

“I think sitting in a pillow fort while eating food and watching a movie is my love language. That sounds lovely.”

You two smiled at each other, and you could hear your heartbeat pound in your ears as a warm feeling filled your chest. It had been far too long since you’d felt any semblance of this feeling.

An abundance of Thai food and an argument over what movie to watch later, you were curled up like a cat beside Joel admiring the look of his face under the lighting of the fairy lights that were hung up throughout the little fort.

“Ugh, why haven’t we done this sooner?” you asked, lifting your head out of the dip of his shoulder.

“We’re both too busy,” he murmured, looking away from the television screen to look over at you.

“I’ll literally take sick time off just to do this again,” you remarked.

“I think that’s just the Thai food talking.”

“It was fucking amazing.”

“Told you.”

“But it’s not just the Thai food. I really like you a lot, Joel. I like spending time with you. I like talking to you and arguing about whether a shitty romcom or shitty action movie is better. I like doing mundane shit with you, like putting up fairy lights in a fort to enhance our ‘fort experience’. I like cuddling with you. Has anyone ever told you that you’re basically a human furnace? Anyway, I hate the fact that our daughters had to make an elaborate scheme just to get us together. I wanna make more time for you, because you deserve it. But like, only if you also wanna spend more time with me,” you confessed.

“Of course I want to spend more time with you. And in the spirit of honesty, I really do have the time, sometimes. I guess I just worry that you wouldn’t want to spend your free time with me.”

“Joel, I would sit and watch paint dry on a wall if you were there with me. From the moment you entered my life, you’ve made everything a little better. If I have the time, I’m never gonna say no to being with you.”

He paused for a moment as he seemed to process that information, only coming back with a quiet, “Can I kiss you?”

You grabbed his cheeks and kissed him like no one you’d ever kissed before. It felt like the Fourth of July in your stomach as a moment you felt you’d been waiting for all your life finally came to fruition.

By the time you pulled away, you were breathless and felt warm all over. You could go out on a limb and say that as far as dates go, this one was pretty successful, and to think, if it wasn’t for your daughters’ intervention, none of this would’ve happened.

Yeah, you definitely needed to treat them to something.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us hbo #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller imagine #soccer parents au

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angelrari · 9 months

Text

emotional bruises · pt. ii

lando norris / carlos sainz x singer!reader faceclaim: emilia mernes

a/n; once again i'm here to remind you english is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. i wrote a small snippet this time and even though i still don't feel fully comfortable with english, but i thought some context was very much needed for this part. also tysm for supporting this story i can't believe i've got so many likes on the first part. here's the second part for you guys to enjoy ❤

prev | next

· · · · ·

the sunlight peaked through the curtains of lando’s apartment lightening the bedroom you shared. the bedsheets felt cold against your skin, so you tried to find lando with your eyes still closed, stretching your arms as far as you could, but he wasn’t there. where the hell is he? you stood up, still feeling somehow drowsy, and headed to the living room. lando was sitting on the sofa, his face was buried on his hands.

“baby, are you still drunk?”. you asked. he jumped at the sound of your voice and quickly stood up, walking towards you.

“y/n..”. he murmured as he came closer. when you realized that his eyes were swollen and red, the anxiety started to increase.

“hey, what’s wrong?”. you said, reaching out to hold him in your arms. he placed his head on the crook of you neck, feeling his breath against your skin as he started to sob. your hands moved down his back, pulling him closer. “what’s wrong?”.

“i am so sorry, baby… i truly am”. he whispered. “i messed up, y/n…”

you froze, feeling the blood on your veins as it turned cold. those three words brought back feelings you thought you would never feel again. there were only a few reasons why lando would apologize to you and none of them were good. as you stepped back, his hands found its way to yours, holding them tight so you couldn’t move further.

“i was drunk and cindy was there— fuck i am so sorry, y/n. i couldn’t think straight and i know it’s not an excuse, but please—“.

“what did you do, lando?”. you said steadily as you starred at his eyes. he looked down as he whispered the words that would end your two-year long relationship.

“i- i slept with her”.

jennierubyjane

liked by roses_are_rosie, jacquemus and 7,436,435 others

jennierubyjane los angeles w/ my angel ❤

view all 102,324 comments

username it's y/n!!!! everbody move!!!!! 🚨🚨🚨

username thank u for your service jennie it's been a month since we had an update on y/n

username a month???? it felt like a year

username i almost forgot her asian tour is starting soon

yourusername

liked by lilymhe, jennierubyjane and 2,045,347 others

yourusername hi! sorry i've been away. my new song (and mv) emotional bruises will be out tonight as a reward for waiting so, so long. once again thank you for the endless love and support, you guys will always be my favourites ❤

view all 47,934 comments

username it's over for lando i fear

username girl fuck him it was about time

jennierubyjane i'm proud of you bestie! let's go ❤❤❤

lilymhe and the greatest is back

heidiberger_ ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

landonorris

liked by danielricciardo, mclaren and 1,424,785 others

landonorris bring it on

view all 10,297 comments

danielricciardo stick to racing

landonorris i think i did an amazing job idk what you're talking about

username not him posting this the same day emotional bruises is released he's getting on my nerves

username im sure he did it on purpose

taglist: @roseseraj

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kleftiko · 1 year

Text

❦ KITTEN

cw: mature, mdni!, reader is a stripper, gentleman!aizawa that’s about to snap (yummy), also there’s a collar lol

PART 2 | MASTERLIST

“eraser head!” you call as you sit at your vanity. the dressing room wasn’t very crowded at the moment, and that’s probably why aizawa chose this time to walk in.

“y/n.” he nods. you pout.

“if i have to call you by your stage name, you have to call me mine.”

“not a stage name—hero name.” he corrects you.

you push your hair back, ready to go now that you’ve changed and taken off your makeup. effectively, you jokingly ignore aizawa, standing up with your bag as you hear him sigh and say, “kitten.”

you smile. close enough.

initially, he called you kitty, that was your stage name for the sole fact that you loved hello kitty. but shota decided on ‘kitten’ along the way, and because you liked him, you accepted it.

“will you be walking me home today, shota?”

he ignores your use of his first name and nods.

you two first met after a stalker incident. the emergence of quirks in society gave certain men the idea that they were above the morals of society. unfortunately, you were the target of one (being a stripper is not a safe job), and eraser head was who you turned to. over time, he came as a customer a couple times, but really, he would walk you home at the end of your shift.

it became obvious that he started walking you home because he wanted to. he told you himself that the stalker was not a threat anymore a few months ago, yet he continued to see you at the ungodly hours of the day despite his tired eyes.

you wanted him. you made that clear. he was apprehensive. the first excuse was that you were too young. you reminded him you were barely four years younger. the second was that he was protecting you. its been nearly half a year since there was any semblance of a threat towards you.

you were chipping away and he was breaking.

upon reaching the front door of your apartment, you say, “chamomile with honey.”

it was how he took his tea, and it was a slight command for him to come inside.

he didn’t argue.

you fix the drinks and bring it to him as he sat on the couch.

“oh! i have something i need your opinion on.”

you quickly left the room to change.

aizawa barely showed emotions. you danced and flirted and wore your skimpy outfits, but nothing. his eyes stayed on yours, arms crossed like always, and calm expression on his face. you wanted to see his face break, blush, you wanted to see his head thrown back.

so you come back to the living room.

he takes a quick study of your outfit. not as long a look as you wanted, and no physical reaction.

“it’s cute.” he says.

you huff and step closer.

“really? that’s it?”

“i like the collar, its good for work.”

you had no intention of wearing this to work. even for your profession, this was out of your comfort zone. it was definitely a kitty—ears, collar, accompanied by your nails—but the skirt was a belt to show your panties and it dug into plush of your thighs with garters that you just wanted to take off.

you sigh in defeat. you wore this for him and only him.

“you don’t look happy.” he comments.

you admit, “i was hoping for more.”

he holds your eye contact for a second before he lifts his finger to spin—asking you for a twirl.

you smile and obey, giving a nice mini fashion show.

he doesn’t say anything, but his finger makes a beckoning motion and you walk towards him.

“give me a lap dance.” his voice sends vibrations up you spine.

“what?”

“i can pay you.” he assumes that’s the problem. “your costume’s cute, but doesn’t look too comfortable. wouldn’t be good if you can’t dance in it.”

“i’m not on the clock.” you mumble.

his hands reach out to your hips, grabbing you and turning you around before pulling you onto his lap; your back to his chest as the breath gets knocked out of you.

“neither am i.”

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #aizawa shota x reader #shoto aizawa #aizawa x y/n #my hero academia aizawa #aizawa shouta #aizawa x you #aizawa headcanons #aizawa imagine #eraserhead x reader

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lollytea · 1 year

Note

Please, your finale Huntlow thoughts, my liege. We poor peasants beg of you, our bowls are empty and your tables full; if we might have but a crumb of your succulent meal to fill our bellies in these cold December nights.

ASGCDHBDJNK JESUS FUCKING CHRIST OKAY

I got a few asks about this but I guess I'll answer this one cuz it's phrased the funniest. I just wasn't too pressed about giving my Thoughts about finale Huntlow because I am fully a part of the Huntlow hivemind. Like I feel the way everyone else feels. I'm ecstatic, I'm delighted, I'm overwhelmed, I'm emotional, I'm so happy for them, I got everything I could have wanted. I won. We won.

(I HAVE TOO MANY PICS. I'LL RB WITH PART 2)

First of all this scene is so special to me, you have no idea.

It isn't inherently romantic but it's still so sweet and shows how much these two care for each other. Here's Willow, who's spent the last special Atlasing and repressing and refusing to rely on anyone else. But then she had her breakdown in front of Hunter and he realized just how stressed and scared she's been this whole time. She's visibly anxious and upset here, likely worrying up a storm because she hasn't found her Dads yet. And Hunter is right here beside her. He's seen her meltdown, he's felt her pain, he's heard her cry. He knows that Willow is in a fragile state at the moment. He knows she's been holding in a lot. He knows she's scared. I love that he's not only standing by her side and helping her search, but holding her too. It could be that she vocally expressed how worried she was to him, or maybe he just saw it on her face, but he probably placed that hand on her back to comfort her, let her knows he's right here, grounding her. And Willow, who's still learning how to depend on others, is letting him.

The way Hunter lights up when he sees Harvey and Gilbert, thrilled by how happy he knows she's going to be and his soft smile when he points them out to her. And then THIS!

Like Hunter is devastated. He feels alone and out of place here. He really thinks he has nobody. But Willow being happy can still bring a smile to his face. He just loves her so much!!!

And I know I already talked about the grom photo but UGHH!!!

I got a pic in better definition. I'm pretty sure this is Hunter's first grom. So likely a few months after the events of WAD. And it's so cute to think about Hunter and Willow very awkwardly but eagerly navigating a romantic relationship. I love how grabby and flirty Willow looks here, messing with his bowtie. She clearly LOVES the floral suit, thinking he's like the hottest man alive. She needs to smooch him and NOW. Or she's just like "Oh my, what a nice collarbone you have!!" Idk the ambiguity of what exactly Willow is doing here but the vibe and general intentions being very obvious is my favourite part of this pic. You can speculate for years on this. Oh and Hunter's face, I love it so much. His dumb little blush is like an old friend. He's fucking THRILLED that he's getting so much attention from her. He's very excited about where this is going. But he's also like. So nervous he's gonna pass out. But overall he's having the time of his life. Bi rights!

Also epilogue Huntlow....guys....guys epilogue Huntlow....are you guys still listening to me at this point?

God I love this scene. Its so natural and smooth, giving the characters a chance to breathe and exist and providing a glimpse of how they go about their daily lives. It's soft and lighthearted but it establishes so much about where Willow and Hunter are currently at in their relationship. They've been dating for like....3 years at the very least. And they're clearly very happy together!!

The way Willow casually slides on to the scene, giving the impression that she's often dropped in on him while he's working. And why wouldn't she? That's her sweetheart. What if she requires emergency smooches? What then? And of course, there's Hunter beaming at the sight of her. Seems he never gets tired of his girlfriend stopping by to visit. Or maybe he's sick to death of Willow the menace showing up to distract him while he's trying to work and he's just excited about the prospect of Luz's party. Either way, it's an adorable expression.

Something else I love about epilogue Huntlow is how equally distributed the affection is between both of them. Back when FTF dropped I gushed about how sweet it was to see Hunter taking initiative with Willow and the significance of something as simple pressing his backhand against hers during the pinky hold. And God, this sequence here says it all. From what I can tell, as Hunter runs towards her, they both reached out at the same time and linked hands immediately, implying that holding hands has become the automatic gesture for them whenever they meet up. They're in love, you're honor.

I love the huge carefree grins as they skate down the hill (still holding hands). They might have grown a lot since we last saw them but they're still young adults, they still love to have fun doing dumb reckless stuff. And even better, they love to have fun doing dumb reckless stuff together. All the handholding and fluffy cuteness is wonderful but I also love knowing that they seem to genuinely enjoy just hanging out and spending their youth with each other. Zeno was right, they ARE besties. Who knows how much shit Hunter and Willow get up to together? Being a pair of thrill seeking athletes, it's probably a lot.

This part is just so silly and ridiculous. After they go stumbling, Willow's first instinct is to grab Hunter and hold on for dear life. Her intense scrunched up expression is just so funny. "I will protect you, my love. No big dumb hill is going to harm a hair on your pretty head. Your girl is here." And Hunter barely acknowledging it (it probably happens a lot) because his life is currently flashing before his eyes. GOD they're just such nerds.

Oh and this frame is just SO adorable. The way Willow's hold on him lingers for a moment before he walks towards the grave, Hunter's heart eyes. They're clearly still so soft and touchy with each other. And this is after three years. I know they were insufferable when they started dating as teens.

#toh spoilers #huntlow

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leah-lover · 1 month

Text

I need you. Jill roord × reader.

Smut 18+

Jill misses reader after she did her ACL.

My life has been hectic ever since Jill did her Acl. Our games have been hard and critical for our shot at the title so losing concentration wasn't an option. O. The other hand, my relationship with Jill was going through its toughest phase yet.

Dealing with the shock of her diagnosis, her surgery, her physical And emotional pain had stretched the both of us too thin. We were tired.

Jill was hurt because of her knee, she was hurt because of the strain in the relationship but she couldn't say anything. She wanted to feel loved and appreciated during her current status. She couldn't say anything though, she was afraid all the responsibility would drive me away. As a result, she started to close up on herself.

I noticed the change in her state after it came home from training.

“ Hello darling, I missed you.” I said as I tossed my keys and bags and went towards the couch where she was sitting.

“ Hey, is your knee okay? What's wrong, talk to me honey?” I added as I massaged over her brace.

“ No I am okay, love. My knee is fine.” She answered with a half smile.

“ Darling I know you just please tell me it's your knee again I can get you something for it” I said before she cut me off.

“ It's not about my fucking knee. This knee has stopped my life. I miss you I just fucking my iss you soo much.” She said,

My hand immediately traveled to cup her face. “Honey you could have just said so I miss you too.” I replied before leaning over to give her a peck which she turned into a messy kiss.

“ If I had known I would have sorted this problem a long time ago.” I joked.

“ Don't be an ass and come back here. My knee doesn't change anything. I am still in charge.” she said.

We continued to kiss before things got more heated. “ It's okay, just get on top of me “ she demanded.

I was worried about her knee. But I needed to be closer to her.

I got on top of her, and unconsciously started grinding on her thigh.

“ That is a good girl. Keep going, my love.” she said with the raspiest voice.

While I was grinding, she was kissing my neck and massaging my sides and my chest.

“ Baby, I.. I think I am gonna come .“ I whispered into her ear.

“This soon baby. Hold it for me.” She replied.

I kept on grinding on her thigh.

“ Jill please I can't anymore.” I pleaded.

“Okay love, come for me.” She replied, while running her hand up and down my sides. After that the lounded sound managed to creep out of my mouth as I released a month's tension and collapsed into Jill’s arms.

“ That's a very good girl.” she said, calming me down by running her hands on my back.

“ Baby you are dripping. Let me return the favor.” I demanded.

Without asking for permission I slowly lowered her on the couch, took off her shorts and positioned myself between her thighs.

Arousal was running through her thighs. It only took my tongue quick contact with her core for the nastiest moan to escape her lips.

While being careful, I continuously rubbed circles on her core, and she kept getting angstier by the second.

“Baby please I need more.” She pleaded.

With that I pushed two fingers inside her.

Which seems to do the job as she lost control rapidly.

“Babe I need to come please don't make me wait” she pleaded, her breath getting quicker.

My pace then grew faster, which helped her come.

After she came I cleaned her up with my mouth and laid on her chest.

“Next time just tell me you need me okay.” I said.

“ I love you so much.” She added before falling asleep.

#alessia russo #mary earps #niamh charles #ona batlle #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #espwnt #magdalena eriksson #mapi leon #woso request #woso smut #woso community #woso couples #woso x reader #jill roord #manchester city

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pin-k-ink · 5 days

Text

labyrinth // illumi zoldyck

tw ⇢ stalking, obsessive behavior, dub-con, toxic relationship, violence(?), emotional manipulation kinda, implied captivity, porn with plot, unprotected sex, fingering, begging, childhood friends to lovers, illumi being delulu just as every character i write

wc ⇢ 6.8k

a/n: god i am weak for this man

The forest was your home, your little sanctuary. You'd practically grown up there, spending countless hours exploring its lush greenery and hidden trails. It was a place where you could escape from the grueling responsibilities and expectations placed upon you as a young assassin-in-training. And throughout all those years, you had always shared this special place with the only person who truly understood you and allowed you to be yourself: Illumi Zoldyck.

You recalled those early days with Illumi fondly, a time when he wasn't the cold-hearted killing machine he is now. Back then, he had been such a sweetheart, always looking out for you and making sure you were safe and happy. Whenever the two of you ventured deep into the forest and lost track of time, it was Illumi who would gently take your hand and lead you back home before the darkness fully settled in. He was the one who would pluck delicate flowers and weave them into your hair, his deft fingers working with surprising tenderness. And whenever you felt insecure or doubted your own beauty, Illumi was quick to reassure you, his genuine praise and adoration leaving you feeling cherished and loved.

Though he never admitted it out loud back then, to Illumi, you were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. His actions spoke louder than any words ever could.

Under Illumi's guidance and unwavering support, you flourished, growing into a more confident and capable version of yourself. He brought out the best in you, both as a person and as an assassin. However, looking back, you realized there were signs and hints of the darkness lurking within him that you hadn't fully grasped at the time.

Everything changed when Illumi went missing for nearly a year. His family, always fiercely protective of their own, refused to let you into their estate or divulge any information about his whereabouts. You were left to worry and wonder, your heart heavy with each passing day without any word from your dearest friend.

When Illumi finally returned to the forest, it was as if a stranger stood in his place. Gone was the warmth and affection that once shone in his eyes whenever he looked at you. Instead, his gaze was distant and cold, devoid of the spark that had made him so special to you. In its place was a cool, assessing gaze that seemed to look through you rather than at you. The innocent, carefree boy who used to fill your days with laughter and adventure had vanished, replaced by a hardened, unreadable man.

Despite the drastic change in Illumi's demeanor, you refused to give up on him. You clung to the hope that somewhere deep inside, the old Illumi still existed, buried beneath the layers of emotional detachment and rigorous training. You treated him with the same love and care as before, even though he no longer seemed to reciprocate in the same way.

Training with Illumi became a rarity, and when you finally convinced him to spar with you after months of pleading, it was evident that he was holding back, his movements restrained and calculated. Determined to prove yourself, you pushed harder, your pride fueling your desire to land a solid hit. In response, Illumi swiftly disarmed you, twisting your arm behind your back in a move that left you vulnerable and slightly pained.

The moment a small yelp escaped your lips, Illumi's demeanor shifted. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and suddenly, he was dropping his weapon and spinning you around to face him, his usually impassive face etched with concern. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice holding a trace of the old Illumi you remembered so fondly.

Without waiting for a response, he gathered you into his lap, his fingers gently skimming over your skin as he searched for any signs of injury. When his hand reached your wrist, the one he had twisted moments ago, you couldn't help but hold your breath as he raised it to his lips. With a tenderness that left you breathless, Illumi began to place soft, reverent kisses along your inner wrist, his mouth brushing over your pulse point before trailing over your palm and fingertips.

He paid special attention to each callus and bruise, his lips mapping out a path of worship across your battle-worn skin. It wasn't until you gently pulled your hand away, your face flushed and your heart racing, that he finally stopped.

"What the hell was that?" you managed to ask, your voice trembling slightly as you cradled your hand against your chest. Illumi, seemingly unfazed by the intimate moment, simply handed your weapons back to you and helped you to your feet, his expression once again unreadable.

After that incident, you no longer asked Illumi to train with you. Instead, he began to invite you along on missions, providing you with an escape from the constraints placed upon you by your own family, who still clung to the outdated belief that women had no place on the battlefield.

Illumi became your ticket to freedom, even if he himself remained emotionally distant. He would sneak into your room under the cover of darkness, whisking you away to far-off locations where you could put your skills to the test without fear of reprisal from your family.

The short missions he selected allowed you to return home by morning, and on the days when he had no assignments, Illumi would seek you out in the forest. Though your time together was no longer filled with training, you found solace in his presence as you poured out your heart to him, sharing the mundane details of your life.

As you talked, Illumi would often lay his head in your lap, his dark hair splayed out like a pool of ink against your thighs. You would card your fingers through the silky strands, marveling at how much he had changed and yet, in some ways, remained the same.

"You should grow it out," you murmured one day, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Illumi's eyes flickered open, their intensity catching you off guard as he stared up at you.

"You want me to grow out my hair?" he asked, his voice low and serious, as if your answer held the weight of the world.

"Y-yes?" you stammered, suddenly unsure of yourself under his unwavering gaze.

Months passed, and your routine with Illumi continued. It wasn't until one day, as he lay with his head nestled against your stomach, that you noticed his hair had grown past his shoulders, the ends brushing against your skin like whispers of silk.

"Your hair," you commented softly, your fingers threading through the lengthened strands. "It's gotten so long."

"You told me to grow it out," Illumi replied simply, as if that explained everything. And in a way, perhaps it did.

Along with the changes in his appearance, Illumi developed another habit. Whenever he went on missions without you, he would bring back small tokens – souvenirs of a sort, though they were far from the typical trinkets one might expect.

These mementos ranged from blood-stained lockets to priceless artifacts, each one a macabre reminder of the lives he had taken. Once, he even presented you with a family photograph, the smiling faces of his latest victims staring up at you from the glossy paper.

You had declined that particular offering, and Illumi had disappeared without a word. You worried that you had offended him, only to be startled awake late that night by a scratching sound at your window.

When you investigated, you found Illumi standing outside, a squirming bundle in his arms. He had gone back and kidnapped the family dog, presenting it to you with an air of solemn determination.

Though his actions were often baffling and his demeanor remained inscrutable, you couldn't help but find a certain charm in Illumi's unconventional displays of affection. It was clear that, in his own way, he still cared for you deeply.

But the true depth of your feelings for each other remained unspoken, buried beneath layers of duty and the weight of your shared history.

Then came the day that changed everything. After months of separation, you finally had the chance to see Illumi again, your heart brimming with news that you knew would alter the course of your lives forever.

With a voice that trembled despite your best efforts to keep it steady, you met Illumi's gaze and spoke the words that would shatter the fragile equilibrium you had built together:

"I'm getting married."

The words hung heavy in the air between you, a leaden weight that seemed to steal the very breath from your lungs. For a long moment, Illumi remained perfectly still, his dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your heart stutter in your chest.

"Married?" he repeated, his voice flat and emotionless, betraying none of the turmoil you were sure must be raging beneath the surface. "To whom?"

You swallowed hard, your fingers twisting nervously in your lap. "It's an arranged marriage," you explained, your words tumbling out in a rush. "My family... they've been planning it for months. I only just found out."

Illumi's gaze never wavered, his face an unreadable mask. "I see."

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. You longed to reach out to him, to bridge the sudden chasm that seemed to have opened up at your feet, but something held you back.

"Illumi," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "I..."

But before you could continue, he was rising to his feet, his movements graceful and fluid despite the tension that radiated from every line of his body.

"Congratulations," he said, his tone clipped and formal. "I'm sure you'll make a lovely bride."

And with that, he was gone, disappearing into the shadows of the forest like a wraith. You sat there for a long time, your heart aching with a pain you couldn't quite name.

In the days that followed, you threw yourself into the preparations for your wedding, determined to push all thoughts of Illumi from your mind. But even as you selected flowers and tried on gowns, you couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right.

It wasn't until the night before your wedding, as you sat alone in your room, staring blankly at your reflection in the mirror, that a familiar figure appeared at your window.

Illumi slipped into your room as silently as a shadow, his dark eyes finding yours in the dim light. For a moment, you simply stared at each other, the weight of all that had been left unsaid hanging heavy in the air between you.

"I have a mission," Illumi said at last, his voice flat and emotionless. "I thought you might want to accompany me, for old times' sake."

You hesitated, your heart torn between the desire to be with him and the knowledge that you had a duty to fulfill. But in the end, the pull of your history together was too strong to resist.

"Alright," you agreed, rising to your feet. "But I need to be back before morning. I can't be late for my own wedding."

Illumi's expression remained impassive, but you thought you caught a flicker of something in his eyes - anger, perhaps, or pain. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and he simply nodded, motioning for you to follow him out into the night.

As you made your way through the darkened streets, a sense of unease began to settle over you. Something about this mission felt different, though you couldn't quite put your finger on what it was.

It wasn't until you arrived at your destination - a small, nondescript apartment building on the outskirts of town - that you realized the truth.

"Illumi," you said slowly, your heart beginning to pound in your chest. "What are we doing here?"

He didn't answer, simply led you up a flight of stairs and down a narrow hallway. When he stopped in front of a door and produced a key from his pocket, you felt a sudden surge of panic.

"Illumi, what is this place?" you demanded, your voice rising in pitch. "What's going on?"

He turned to face you then, his expression as cold and remote as you had ever seen it. "This is your new home," he said simply. "You'll be staying here from now on."

You stared at him in disbelief, your mind reeling as you tried to make sense of his words. "What are you talking about? I can't stay here, I have a wedding to attend. I have a life to get back to."

Illumi's gaze bore into yours, a flicker of something dark and possessive in his eyes. "You don't have to go back," he said, his voice low and intense. "You can stay here, with me. We can be together, like I've always wanted."

A chill ran down your spine as the realization dawned on you. Illumi's feelings for you ran deeper than you had ever imagined, and now, he was trying to keep you here against your will.

"Illumi," you said, your voice trembling. "I care for you so much, but I don't love you. Not in the way you want me to."

For a moment, Illumi's mask slipped, and you caught a glimpse of the pain and desperation that lurked beneath the surface. But just as quickly, his expression hardened, and he took a step towards you.

"You will love me," he said, his voice quiet but filled with a chilling intensity. "In time, you'll see that this is where you belong. With me."

You backed away from him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Illumi, please, don't do this. Let me go."

But he shook his head, a small, humorless smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I can't do that," he said. "I've waited too long, wanted you for too long. I won't let you go now."

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you realized that you were trapped. Illumi had planned this all along, had lured you here under false pretenses so that he could keep you for himself.

As he advanced on you, his dark eyes glittering with a possessive light, you knew that you would have to find a way to escape. Because the man standing before you now was not the Illumi you had known and cared for.

Your mind raced as you tried to think of a way out of this situation. Illumi stood between you and the door, his body language making it clear that he had no intention of letting you leave.

"Illumi, please, think about what you're doing," you pleaded, trying to keep your voice calm and steady. "This isn't right. You can't keep me here against my will."

But Illumi merely shook his head, his expression unwavering. "You'll understand in time," he said, his voice soft but unyielding. "This is for the best. For both of us."

He took a step towards you, and you instinctively backed away, your eyes darting around the room in search of an escape route. But there was nowhere to go, no way out except through the door that Illumi now blocked.

Desperation clawed at your throat as you realized the hopelessness of your situation. You had always thought of Illumi as your friend, someone you could trust and rely on. But now, as he stood before you, his eyes dark with a possessive hunger, you realized just how little you truly knew him.

"If you do this," you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady, "you'll regret it. You'll lose me forever, Illumi. Is that really what you want?"

For a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes, a momentary hesitation that gave you a glimmer of hope. But then his jaw tightened, and he shook his head once more.

"I won't lose you," he said, his voice low and intense. "I can't lose you. You're mine, and I won't let anyone else have you."

He reached for you then, his hand closing around your wrist in an iron grip. You struggled against him, but it was no use - he was too strong, too determined.

As he dragged you deeper into the apartment, your heart sank with the realization that there would be no escape, no rescue. Illumi had planned this too well, had made sure that no one would come looking for you until it was too late.

And so, as Illumi pulled you into a small, dimly lit room and pushed you down onto a narrow bed, you forced yourself to take a deep breath, to clear your mind of the panic and fear that threatened to consume you.

As Illumi stood over you, his gaze intense and unwavering, you could sense the turmoil raging within him. For a brief moment, his eyes flickered to the small box on the nearby dresser, and you knew exactly what he was thinking. The Nen needles. A part of him desperately wanted to use them, to ensure that you would never leave his side.

But just as quickly as the thought had crossed his mind, Illumi dismissed it. He knew that you were too familiar with his technique, having learned it alongside him all those years ago. You would detect the needle's presence easily, and any trust that remained between you would be shattered irreparably.

Instead, Illumi sat down on the edge of the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a gentleness that caught you off guard. "I don't want to force you," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want you to choose to stay with me."

Despite the fear and confusion swirling within you, you couldn't help but lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed for the briefest of moments. When you opened them again, Illumi was watching you intently, his gaze filled with a longing that made your heart ache.

In the days that followed, a strange sort of routine developed between you and Illumi. He would leave early in the mornings, off to attend to his duties as an assassin, but he always made sure to return by nightfall. You spent your days exploring the small apartment, marveling at the care and attention to detail Illumi had put into creating this space for you.

There were bookshelves lined with your favorite novels, a closet filled with clothes tailored to your exact measurements, a room filled with all the souvenirs Illumi brought you, and a kitchen stocked with all of your favorite foods. It was as if Illumi had been studying you for years, memorizing every little detail about you.

At night, he would cook dinner for the two of you, his movements precise and graceful as he navigated the kitchen. You would sit at the counter, watching him work, and for a moment, lost in the domesticity of it all, you could almost forget the circumstances that had brought you here.

As the weeks passed, you found yourself drawn to Illumi in ways you had never expected. He was attentive and gentle, always seeming to know exactly what you needed before you even had to ask. He would hold you close at night, his arms wrapped around you as you drifted off to sleep, and in those moments, you could almost believe that this was where you truly belonged.

But then the morning would come, and reality would come crashing back down around you. You were still a prisoner, still trapped in this apartment with a man who refused to let you go. And no matter how tender his touch or how sweet his words, you knew that you could never truly be happy here.

One night, as you lay in bed beside him, Illumi turned to you, his eyes searching your face in the dim light. "Do you think you could ever love me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, your heart constricting painfully in your chest. "I don't know," you answered honestly, your voice trembling slightly. "I care for you, Illumi. I always have. But this... this isn't love. This is something else entirely."

Illumi was silent for a long moment, his gaze never leaving yours. When he finally spoke again, his voice was soft and tinged with a sadness that made your heart ache. "I know," he said. "But I can't let you go. I won't."

And with those words, you knew that your fate was sealed. You were bound to Illumi, now and forever, trapped in a twisted love story that could only end in heartbreak. But even as despair threatened to overwhelm you, a small part of you clung to the hope that someday, somehow, you would find a way to break free.

Until then, you would endure. You would survive. And you would never stop fighting for the life you had always dreamed of, even if it meant leaving behind the man who had once been your everything.

You seized your chance on a crisp autumn morning, slipping out of the apartment while Illumi was away on a mission. Your heart raced as you navigated the unfamiliar streets, every shadow and sound making you jump with fear. But beneath the terror was a flicker of hope, a small, stubborn flame that refused to be extinguished.

For days, you ran, never staying in one place for too long. You knew Illumi would be searching for you, his skills as an assassin making him a formidable pursuer. But you were determined to outmaneuver him, to find a way to disappear and start anew.

As the weeks turned into months, you began to breathe a little easier. You found work in a small town, renting a tiny apartment under an assumed name. Slowly, you started to build a life for yourself, one free from the suffocating weight of Illumi's obsession.

But even as you tried to move on, thoughts of Illumi never strayed far from your mind. In quiet moments, you would find yourself wondering where he was, what he was doing. A part of you missed him desperately, longing for the comfort of his embrace and the familiar rhythm of your life together.

You tried to push those feelings aside, to remind yourself of the fear and desperation you had felt in those final days at the apartment. But late at night, when the world was still and silent, you would sometimes allow yourself to imagine a different life, one where Illumi's love for you wasn't tainted by darkness and obsession.

Miles away, Illumi was unraveling. The apartment felt empty and cold without you, every room a reminder of your absence. He spent his days searching for you, his nights poring over maps and surveillance footage, desperate for any clue that might lead him to you.

As the years passed, his obsession only grew. He became a ghost, a shadow of his former self, his every waking moment consumed by the need to find you. His family watched with mild interest, whispering amongst themselves about the toll your disappearance had taken on him.

But Illumi barely noticed them, his mind fixed solely on you. He replayed every moment of your time together, analysing every conversation for hidden meanings, every gesture for signs he might have missed. He cursed himself for not using the Nen needles when he had the chance, for not ensuring that you could never leave his side.

In his darkest moments, he would imagine finding you, dragging you back to the apartment and never letting you go. He would make you understand, he told himself. He would make you see that you belonged with him, that your love for each other was something rare and precious, worth fighting for.

But as more time passed with no sign of you, a small, insidious doubt began to creep into Illumi's mind. What if you truly didn't love him? What if all of his efforts, all of his sacrifices, had been for nothing? The thought was too painful to bear, and so he pushed it aside, burying himself even deeper in his search for you.

It was on a moonless night, as you lay in your bed, that you sensed his presence. Your heart raced as you sat up, your eyes straining to see in the darkness. And there he was, standing in the shadows, his gaze fixed upon you with an intensity that stole your breath.

"Illumi," you whispered, your voice trembling. "How did you find me?"

He moved towards you, his footsteps silent on the hardwood floor. "I never stopped searching," he said softly, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek. "I couldn't let you go."

You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed for the briefest of moments. When you opened them again, Illumi's face was mere inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin.

And then, before you could even think to resist, he was kissing you. His lips were soft and insistent, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer. For a moment, you lost yourself in the sensation, your body melting against his as years of pent-up longing and desire came rushing to the surface.

But as Illumi's hands began to roam, sliding beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown, a flicker of unease stirred within you. Something about his touch felt different, almost clinical in its precision.

And then, with a sudden, sickening jolt of realization, you understood. The Nen needle. Illumi was trying to use one of his needles on you, to bend your will to his own and ensure that you would never leave his side again.

Panic surged through you, and you wrenched yourself away from him, your heart pounding in your chest. "No," you gasped, backing away from the bed. "I won't let you do this to me."

Illumi's eyes narrowed, his hand still outstretched. "Y/N, please," he said, his voice low and urgent. "I love you. I just want us to be together."

But you shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. "This isn't love, Illumi," you said, your voice breaking. "This is obsession. And I won't be a prisoner to it any longer."

With those words, you turned and fled, racing out of the apartment and into the night. You ran blindly, your feet carrying you through the darkened streets, your mind reeling with the horror of what had almost happened.

You didn't know how long you ran, or how far. But when you finally came to a stop, your lungs burning and your legs aching, you found yourself in a place you hadn't seen in years.

The forest. The place where you and Illumi had first met, where you had spent countless hours together as children, exploring and dreaming and falling in love.

The forest was a blur of green and brown as you ran, your feet pounding against the damp earth, your lungs burning with each ragged breath. The trees seemed to close in around you, their branches reaching out like grasping fingers, as if trying to hold you back, to keep you from escaping.

You risked a glance over your shoulder, your heart hammering in your chest. You couldn't see him, but you knew he was there, somewhere in the shadows, tracking your every move. You had always known it would come to this, that he would never let you go, not really.

The leaves rustled overhead, a whisper of sound that made your skin prickle with fear. Was it just the wind, or was it something else, something more sinister? You forced yourself to keep moving, to focus on the path ahead, on the faint promise of safety that lay beyond the trees.

But even as you ran, you could feel his presence, like a weight pressing down on you, a shadow that clung to your every step. He was relentless, unstoppable, a force of nature that would never rest until he had you in his grasp.

You had thought you could outsmart him, that you could outrun your past and start anew. But now, as the forest closed in around you and the sound of his footsteps echoed in your ears, you realized the terrible truth.

He would always be there, lurking in the darkness, waiting for you. And no matter how far you ran, no matter how hard you tried to escape, you would never truly be free.

The snap of a twig behind you made your heart lurch in your chest. You whirled around, your eyes wide with terror, searching the shadows for any sign of movement. But there was nothing, only the endless sea of trees and the suffocating silence of the forest.

You took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm the frantic pounding of your heart. You had to keep going, to push yourself harder, faster. You couldn't let him catch you, couldn't let him drag you back to the life you had fought so hard to escape.

But even as you turned to run again, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was already too late. That no matter what you did, no matter how fast you ran, he would always be right behind you, a shadow that would never let you go.

You pushed yourself harder, your muscles screaming in protest as you tore through the underbrush. Branches whipped at your face, leaving stinging cuts on your cheeks, but you barely felt the pain. All that mattered was getting away, putting as much distance between yourself and him as possible.

But then, in a cruel twist of fate, your foot caught on a gnarled root, sending you sprawling to the ground. You hit the earth hard, the breath knocked from your lungs, your ankle twisting painfully beneath you. You tried to scramble to your feet, but your leg wouldn't support your weight, and you fell back to the ground with a cry of pain.

Fear coursed through your veins like ice water as you heard the sound of footsteps approaching, steady and unhurried. You crawled forward, dragging yourself through the dirt and leaves, desperate to put some distance between yourself and your pursuer. But it was no use.

A figure emerged from the shadows, tall and slender, with long black hair that fell like a curtain around his face. Illumi looked down at you, his expression calm and unreadable, as if he were merely out for a leisurely stroll in the woods.

His voice smooth and cold as silk. "You didn't really think you could run from me, did you?"

You stared up at him, your heart pounding in your throat, your body trembling with a mix of fear and exhaustion. "Illumi," you whispered, your voice barely more than a rasp. "Please, just let me go."

He crouched down beside you, his movements graceful and deliberate, like a predator sizing up its prey. "Now why would I do that?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. "You belong to me, Y/N. You always have."

He reached out, his long fingers brushing against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw. You flinched away from his touch, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. He had you trapped, and you both knew it.

"I've been searching for you for so long," Illumi murmured, his eyes boring into yours. "You've led me on quite the chase. But it ends here, Y/N. You're coming back with me, where you belong."

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "No," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I can't go back. I won't."

Illumi's lips curved into a smile, but there was no warmth in it, no mercy. "You don't have a choice," he said softly. "You never did."

He reached for you then, his hands closing around your arms like steel bands, dragging you to your feet. You struggled against him, but it was like fighting against a wall of stone. He was too strong, too fast, too ruthless.

As he pulled you through the forest, his grip unyielding, you felt a sense of dread settle over you. You knew where he was taking you - back to the Zoldyck estate, back to the life you had fought so hard to escape.

The house loomed before you, a dark, foreboding presence amidst the trees. Illumi dragged you inside, ignoring your protests and pleas for mercy. He pulled you up the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the silence, until you reached his room.

He pushed you inside, locking the door behind him with a soft click. You stumbled, your injured ankle throbbing with pain, and collapsed onto the bed, your chest heaving with exertion and fear.

Illumi stood over you, his eyes glittering with a possessive light. "This is where you belong, Y/N," he said, his voice soft and dangerous. "With me, forever. And I'll make sure you never forget it again."

You closed your eyes, a sob catching in your throat as you realized the hopelessness of your situation. Illumi would never let you go, never allow you to escape the twisted love he had mistaken for devotion.

And as he lowered himself onto the bed on top you, his hands reaching for your wrists once more, you knew that your fate was sealed. You belonged to him, body and soul.

Your fate was sealed. Your freedom was gone. And there was no escape.

The weight of Illumi's body pressed down upon you, pinning you to the soft mattress beneath. His scent enveloped you, a heady mix of cologne and something uniquely him - dangerous, alluring, inescapable. In the dim light of the room, his eyes gleamed with a dark intensity, boring into your very soul.

"Please..."

But Illumi's hands were already on your wrists, his long fingers encircling them like shackles, holding you in place. His lips found yours, demanding and possessive, stealing the very breath from your lungs. You could feel the heat of his skin against your own, the racing of his heart as it beat in tandem with yours.

There was no escaping his love, no denying the depth of his feelings for you. It had always been there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to consume you both.

"I love you," Illumi murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

It was a confession, a plea, a desperate attempt to make you understand. He loved you more than anything, more than anyone. His love was a force of nature, all-encompassing and inescapable, and it would never let you go.

And even as you lay there, trapped beneath him, a part of you understood. Deep down, in a place you had tried so hard to deny, you knew that your own feelings for him ran just as deep.

It wasn't just obsession that bound you together.

It was love.

True, twisted, all-consuming love.

The kind that could never be let go of, the kind that would follow you into the afterlife.

Illumi's hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. His touch was gentle now, almost reverent, as if he were handling the most precious thing in the world.

"I love you, too,"

And as Illumi's mouth claimed yours once more, as his hands began to roam over your body with a fevered urgency, you knew that there was no going back. You were his, and he was yours, bound together by a love that defied reason and logic.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the years you had spent running from him, not the life you had tried so hard to build without him. All that existed was the feel of his skin against yours, the heat of his breath mingling with your own, the overwhelming sensation of being loved so completely, so fiercely, that it burned away everything else.

You surrendered to him then, your body arching against his, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. The world outside ceased to exist, fading away until there was nothing left but the two of you, lost in a passion that consumed you both.

And so, as Illumi's hands slid beneath your clothes, as his lips traced a burning path down your neck, you gave yourself to him completely. You surrendered to the love that had bound you together, the love that had haunted your every waking moment.

Your heart raced, your breath coming in short gasps as he explored your body with a desperation that matched your own. The last vestiges of your sanity were torn away as Illumi's fingers dipped between your legs, stroking your clit with a skill and precision that left you reeling. He dipped his fingers inside you, his lips sucking another mark onto your collarbone, letting out a soft groan as he feels your tight, velvety walls squeeze around his fingers.

You cried out his name, clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh. His touch was overwhelming, but it wasn't enough. You needed more, needed to feel him, needed him to consume you.

As if reading your mind, Illumi's fingers curled inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your head fell back, and you arched against him, desperate for release. He picked up the pace, sinking his teeth onto your jugular just as begins to drill his fingers into your sopping wet pussy, the soft squelches emanating throughout the room.

Illumi pulled away, and you felt a twinge of disappointment. But it was soon replaced by anticipation as you watched him undress. His body was a thing of beauty, lean and powerful, his skin smooth and flawless. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes slowly traveled lower, fixing on the faint trial of black hair growing beneath his navel, disappearing below the waistband of his pants.

"Illumi," you whispered, reaching out to him. "Please."

He was on you in an instant, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss. His hands roamed your body, teasing and tormenting, leaving you aching for more. He moved down, his tongue tracing the curves of your breasts, the hollow of your navel, the juncture of your thighs.

You trembled with desire, your need for him growing with every passing second.

"Illumi, I can't... I can't take it anymore," you gasped, your body on fire.

He rose above you, his dark eyes glittering with passion. He reached down and stroked his cock, and you could see that translucent droplet of precum pearling at the tip.

"Say it again," he growled, his voice husky with desire.

"I can't take it anymore," you repeated, barely able to get the words out.

"You want me," he said, a statement, not a question.

"Yes, yes, I want you."

With a groan, Illumi entered you, filling you completely. You clung to him, your legs wrapping around his hips, your body arching against his.

It was as if you were made for each other, your bodies fitting together perfectly, the friction between you building with every thrust. Your moans mingled, your breath coming in ragged gasps, as you raced toward the peak of pleasure.

Then, as Illumi's hand reached between your bodies to stroke your clit again, the dam finally broke, and you fell over the edge, crying out his name. Your body shook, your muscles tensed, as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

Illumi's climax was just as intense, his hips thrusting against yours as he spilled himself inside you. His hands gripped your hips, his body trembling with the force of his release.

In that moment, there was nothing but the two of you, bound together by love and desire. It was everything you had dreamed of and more.

"I love you."

#hxh x reader #hxh #hxh x reader smut #hxh smut #hxh illumi #illumi x reader #illumi smut #illumi x reader smut #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter x reader smut

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 5 months

Text

Never Say Never

Chapter 1

Pairing: SingleDad!StevexReader

Summary: You are a 32 year old single mother, raising your seven year old son on your own. After being widowed at 30 and going out on awful dates with disgusting men for the past month, you have decided that you're giving up. You already had your great love. One person can't possibly get lucky enough to have two in their lifetime. But then your son starts playing baseball and the coach might just change your mind about that.

No posting schedule. With also writing Everybody Hurts, I don't want to make promises and fall behind. I'm a working mom with a hectic life and don't always have time to write every single day. I've been wanting to write this Steve book forever and once I got the first chapter down, I couldn't wait to share it.

18+ only for eventual smut

Word Count: 4.3K

“No, Janice, it’s absolutely hopeless. I am telling you. I’m done with dating,” you sighed as you wiped the crumbs off the table and into your hand from Eli’s after school snack.

Making your way to the garbage can, you brushed them in. Grabbing the empty cup of chocolate milk, you popped it into the dishwasher, trying to stay on top of things so you didn’t have to do a last minute clean-up when all you wanted to do was go to bed.

“You can’t just give up,” your friend urged. “Come on, girl. You’ve only been on a few dates so far. I know they’ve been duds but the right guy is out there. I know he is.”

“I really don’t think he is. I’ve been on four dates in the last month and they have all been awful. And I only went on those dates because you’ve been pushing me to put myself out there, might I remind you. I was perfectly content with my life the way it was. The only guy I need in my life is my son. I’m telling you. Good guys don’t exist.”

“Except you know that’s not true because you had one.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest at the reminder. That familiar pain that tightened its hold until you felt you couldn’t breathe. It didn’t matter that it had been two years. Any mention of Justin’s name and you were instantly sent straight back there, struggling, fighting for air you couldn’t find, descending into the pitch black of despair that had swallowed you whole for far too long.

But you couldn’t let it consume you, not anymore. You knew what you needed to do. Remembering your therapist’s words, you didn’t fight it back, letting the pain wash over you for a moment. Accept your emotions. It’s okay to feel them. Let them come, acknowledge them, and then move on. Don’t get stuck. Forward motion. Always forward motion. Remember the 3-3-3 rule when it gets overwhelming.

Your eyes roamed through your kitchen, searching for three objects. The box of Scooby snacks that Eli had, the smiling face of his favorite cartoon dog looking up at you. The tulips on the table that you'd picked from your garden two days ago, bringing a little spring into the house. The bright painting to the left of the fridge that Eli had made for Mother’s Day last year, his handprints creating bright yellow and orange flowers, with the words If mothers were flowers, I’d pick you.

You felt yourself returning from the dark, your chest loosening as you closed your eyes, focusing on sounds now. Your son’s feet moving across the floor of his bedroom, a lawnmower running a couple houses down, the low rumble of a motorcycle driving down the street.

It was working. You wiggled your fingers, rotated your ankle, rolled your head around on your shoulders. 3-3-3. Three sights, three sounds, and three movements. And just like that, you were back. Hand on the table, you slowly sat down in one of the wooden chairs you'd so lovingly sanded and refinished the summer after you and Justin bought this house, opening your eyes. You were centered. You were okay. You were moving forward whether you wanted to or not.

He was gone. There was no changing that. And as much as you'd wanted to curl up and die after it happened, you knew you couldn’t. You had Eli, this sweet little soul who depended on you, who was hurting too, and you had to be what he needed. You had to pull yourself out of your grief to be the stability and strength he needed. Fake it until you make it, right? That had worked for a while until it didn’t.

“Hello?” your friend’s voice called through the receiver. “Hey, are you okay? Is it happening again? Do I need to come over? Come on. Just say something, honey.”

“No. No. I’m okay.” Your fingers pressed gently against your forehead, wondering if it would ever get easier. Everyone said it would and sometimes you could even go hours without thinking about him but when you did, it would all come crashing down around you. He’d left you alone, alone to care for your son, alone for eternity based on the dating pool out there. “Sorry. I just…I’m fine.”

“You sure? Because I’ve already got my keys in my hand and I can be there in ten minutes.”

You smiled. Of course Janice already had her keys in her hand. She was your lighthouse in a storm, your safe harbor, your source of encouragement and support. She’d been there to pick you up when you could barely lift your head. She’d been the one to convince you to go to therapy. She’d been the one to come over and cook dinner for Eli, playing games with him, amusing him so he wouldn’t notice that mommy was falling apart in your bedroom on days when you just couldn’t find the strength. Janice was your lifeline and you had no idea where you would be without her. You certainly wouldn’t be the functioning human being you were right now.

“No. Really. I promise you, Janice. I am fine.”

“Okay…but you know I’ve always got you. Just say the word, girl and I’m there. Anytime. Anything you need.”

“I know. And I love you so much for it.”

“I love you,” Janice stated. “You’re my soulmate, you know.”

You laughed, “What about Matt? I don’t think he’d appreciate hearing you say that.”

Your friend snorted, “Oh, he knows. It was part of our vows. Didn’t you know that? He took this woman and her best friend on the day we got married. He’s aware of his place in my life and he’s okay with it because he loves you too. Also, he doesn’t have a choice because he knows I’d get rid of him before I’d ever let go of you if he tried to make me choose. You’re always my first choice.”

Matt would never make her choose. Janice had met Matt a little over a year ago and they had just gotten married in July. It had been a beautiful outdoor wedding on the beach. You'd been the maid of honor. Janice hadn’t even asked you, not really, just rolled her eyes when you asked if she planned on it and said she didn’t have to ask because it should have been assumed. Eli had been so handsome in his little tux as their ring bearer. You had fought back tears throughout the day, memories of your own wedding day ripping you apart. But you'd held it together, reminding yourself that this was your friend’s day. You were supposed to be overjoyed for her, not wallowing as you tripped down memory lane.

You loved Matt and the feeling appeared to be mutual. He was perfect for your best friend. He was the rational to Aly’s crazy, the simple to her complicated, the organization to her chaos. He was absolutely crazy about her and every single one of her little quirks, including her intensely close friendship with you and Eli. He’d been openly accepting of you being their third wheel from day one.

They’d only gone on five dates when he offered to take Eli to the batting cages for a few hours so the girls could enjoy an afternoon. When Eli got back, red-faced and shiny, a huge smile on his face, you had given your friend a look that said everything without you having to speak. It said hold onto this one. And your friend had been smart enough to do just that. They were already talking about trying for a baby and you couldn’t wait to plan a shower and shop for all the cute little baby things. To be Auntie, to cuddle a sweet little one against your chest again, to inhale that delicious newborn smell.

Everyone always said it went by too fast. You'd thought they were crazy when you were in the midst of sleepless nights and a screaming baby, feeling it would never end. But they were not joking. Your sweet little baby, with his head of downy blond hair, just like his father’s, had somehow become a little boy in what felt like a span of seven minutes instead of seven years. You found yourself willing time to slow down, to let you keep him little for just a while longer, but it just kept racing ahead, leaving you frantically trying to catch up.

“So, anyway, what was so awful about this one?” Janice asked, bringing you back to the present moment.

“Ugh…what wasn’t awful? He showed up to the restaurant already drunk. He kept trying to touch me, stroking my arm and placing his hands on my thigh. He kept slurring about how he was going to show me the night of my life. He ordered spaghetti and was eating it with his fingers, just picking up the noodles and dropping them into his mouth. It was disgusting. His hand was in a cast and when I asked what happened, he told me he broke it punching out the car window of his ex because he caught her cheating on him last week.”

“Holy shit!”

“Seriously! I can’t make this stuff up, Janice. It’s so bad out here. I don’t know why women even bother trying. From the guy who seemed okay until I walked into his place and he had the pile of toenail clippings on his coffee table to the guy who asked for the barista’s number while I was standing next to him to the guy who invited his ex so she’d see him with me to this guy, I’m just done. Maybe we only get one shot at real love in our lives and Justin was mine. Maybe that’s all I get. I mean, it was only ten years but a decade of happiness is more than some people get. Shouldn’t I be happy with that?”

“No. I refuse to believe that,” Janice argued. “You are far too amazing to spend the rest of your life alone.”

“I’m not alone. I have you and Eli.”

“Yes, but one day, Eli will be all grown up and move out and start a life of his own. And yes, you will always have me but do you really want to live in that house all by yourself? Don’t you want someone to fall asleep next to, someone to wake up next to, someone to rub your feet after a long day, someone to be your person?”

“You’re my person. Justin was my person.”

“Oh, honey…”

“Janice, I just…this dating site thing isn’t for me.”

God, it was so awful. With the birth of the internet, online dating was a fairly new thing. But when you weren't getting e-mailed dick pics or getting asked if you were looking for a booty call, then you were getting tricked by guys who acted like they were normal until you met them and found out they were anything but.

“Okay. So, ditch the dating site. Honestly, it probably wasn’t the best idea but Lauren was going on and on about these hot guys she’d met on there. She said it was like a pond full of fish and any woman could have her pick of them. I figured it would be worth a shot. At least, it would be a good place to start. I should have known better. It’s Lauren. She’ll hook up with anybody and gets bored way too easily. I am sure a different guy every night is exactly what she’s looking for. Maybe you just need to meet someone more organically?”

You sighed, “And how exactly do you think I’m going to do that between work and Eli? I don’t have a lot of down time.”

“No, I know, but maybe try to pop into the coffee shop more or the bookstore? I mean, you could do the bar but you’re more likely to find a sleaze who’s just looking for a one night stand or the guy with the tan line where his ring should be. Lord knows I’ve made that mistake more than once. But a bookstore, a coffee shop, the library? You might find a nice guy there, an intellectual who reads and writes poetry in his spare time. Oh! Maybe find your own Mr. Coulson.”

“Except I’ve actually been kissed and I am not a reporter and I definitely am not passing for a high school student,” you laughed, remembering how in love you and Janice had been last year in the theater. “And trust me, Michael Vartan is not teaching at the local high school.”

“Okay, fair enough. But don’t give up. You deserve the world, my friend. You deserve a man who looks at you like you’re the moon and stars because you are. I know he’s out there.”

“Janice, I…”

“Mommy! You have to take me to baseball practice, remember?”

Your eyes shot over to your son and then up to the clock. You'd completely forgotten. After Matt had gotten him into baseball, he’d begged you to let him join the little league team this year at school. You'd dreaded having to lug him to practices and games, giving up what little free time you had, but you could never deny your son anything. Their first practice started in fifteen minutes and now you were going to be late. Just one more reason for the mothers in this town to judge you and your inability to do it all as a single mom.

“Shit! Janice, I have to go. Eli has baseball.”

“Okay. Ohh, maybe you’ll find a hot single dad.”

“Oh my god. Good bye,” you huffed, hanging up. Your brain raced, thinking back to the paper that had come home with him about practices. What did he need to bring? “Okay, okay. Eli, go grab your mitt and I’ll fill up a water bottle for you.”

Your son raced off up the stairs and you groaned, knowing he’d probably be yelling down to you in two minutes that he couldn’t find it. You grabbed his bright blue water bottle, quickly filling it with tap water. Was there anything else? You smacked your forehead loudly. Cleats! You were supposed to buy him baseball cleats and you hadn’t.

“Mommy! I can’t find my glove!”

You closed your eyes, inhaling slowly through your nose before making your way to the stairs, “I’ll find it. Just change into your athletic pants and a long sleeve shirt. And grab a sweatshirt, honey. It’s kind of chilly out today.”

Eli sat on the floor, pulling his pants on, when you entered the room. Your eyes did a quick scan, instantly finding the glove, lying on the floor right next to his bed. With a small smile and a shake of your head, you bent down and grabbed it, tossing it to your son just as he stood up, all dressed and ready.

“Ready to go?”

“But my shoes. I don’t have baseball shoes!” he yelled, pointing at his feet as if you weren't aware.

“I know buddy. I’m sorry. Mommy forgot but I will stop tomorrow right after work and grab you a pair, okay?”

“But then I won’t be ready for baseball! All the other kids are going to have the right shoes and I won’t!”

“Eli, we don’t have time to stop at the store right now or you’ll be late.” You walked up to your son, cradling his face, your favorite face in the world. Cobalt blue eyes, so like his father’s gazed up at you, anxious about not fitting in, not having the right things. “Look, I will explain to your coach. I’m sure he will understand.”

“He’s really nice. He’s Jeremiah’s dad. I like Jeremiah. He’s my best friend. We play superheroes at recess all the time. He’s Superman and I’m Batman. And sometimes we swap lunches because his dad always packs peanut butter and jelly and you always pack bologna and sometimes we like to switch. I asked you if he could come over and play and you said maybe but he’s never come over. Remember?”

You winced at your son’s words. It came back to you, months ago, Eli asking if his new best friend could come over to your house. You'd said maybe, the answer you gave when you didn’t have one or you were too busy to stop and really answer him. Being a single parent was hard. It was exhausting, often leaving you feeling like there wasn’t enough of you to go around.

“I’m sorry, buddy. I shouldn’t have said maybe and then forgotten about it. I’ll talk to his parents about it after practice today, okay? Now, come on. Let’s get going so you’re not too late.”

__________________________________________________________

You barely had the car in park before Eli was jumping out, racing across the pavement, eager to join his teammates on the diamond. You made your way over, taking in the gathering of young players, the air full of energy and excitement. Bringing a hand up to cover your eyes against the glaringly bright spring sun, you watched as Eli ran up to a young boy with a full head of caramel brown hair.

That must be Jeremiah. Wow, that kid was going to be all the girls could talk about when he got older with a head of hair like that. Eli pointed at him with a huge grin and you gave your son a thumbs up, letting him know you'd seen. He would never let you forget it if you didn’t follow through on setting up a playdate.

“Aly! Hey! Eli’s playing this year?”

“Oh, hi Tracy,” you replied with a smile as Jackson’s mom walked up with a coffee in hand. “Yeah. Janice’s husband, Matt, has really gotten him into baseball and he was so excited to play.”

“It’s so good that he has someone to stand in as a strong male role model in his life. You know, with his dad gone and everything.”

Your teeth gritted, the smile you were working so hard to keep plastered on your face now painful. Of course. You couldn’t possibly be enough for your son. He had to have a man in his life to be whole. It didn’t matter that you worked your ass off to make sure that your son never went without. It didn’t matter that you'd had to step up and work even harder, take on the job of two people. It would never be enough.

“Yeah, we’re really grateful for Matt. He’s really great. Eli just adores him.”

Tracy leaned in, looking like the cat who got the cream, your faults as a mother forgotten. “Have you seen the baseball coach?”

“No. I…I just got here but I do need to talk to him. Eli’s become best friends with his son this year and he’s never going to let me live it down if I don’t don’t talk to him about Jeremiah coming over to our house to play.”

“Lucky you. I’d do anything for Jackson to come play at our house if it meant his dad would come over to play too.”

“Umm…aren’t you married?”

Tracy laughed, shrugging, “I mean, what Tom doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? Seriously, wait until you see this guy. I am talking about grade A beefcake, honey.” She rolled her eyes, her head following, over to the right where a man was bent forward, pulling baseballs out of a bucket. “I just want to take a bite out of it. Have you ever seen anything so delicious?”

“Ooh! Are we talking about the coach?” asked Lilian as she idled up, her tongue running along her upper lip. “Have you ever seen such a delectable slice of cake in your life?”

You grimaced. No, they weren’t wrong. The ass that was currently up in the air, making it impossible for you not to notice, was quite nice. No. That wasn’t fair. There wasn’t a Georgia peach in existence that could outdo the one in front of you. He filled out a pair of jeans better than most women did. However, the way these women were drooling over him was pathetic. They were married. They were moms. And this guy, no matter how great his ass was, was a person. He wasn’t some piece of meat to be ogled.

“Well, thanks for pointing him out to me. I think I’m going to try to talk to him before he gets busy,” you said, eager to get away from these bored, spoiled housewives who were looking for excitement to fill their monotonous days. Striding over to him, you paused, realizing you had no idea what his name was. “Uh…excuse me? Coach?”

He straightened and turned and you gasped. Oh hell. The front view was even better than the back. Two eyes, the color of honey, peered down at you, coating you in their sticky sweetness, filling your mouth, making it impossible to speak. Jeremiah came by that head of hair honestly, this man's caramel locks falling effortlessly around his face. He smiled and it was even worse, lightning striking you where you stood. His entire face was pure sunshine, warming you from the inside out.

“Yeah?” he encouraged when you hadn’t said anything.

“Uh…oh…I’m so sorry,” you stammered, eyes closing, shaking your head. What the hell was wrong with you right now? “I’m Eli’s mom, Y/N.”

His eyes lit up with recognition, his hand running through those beautiful locks. Another lightning strike, but in an entirely different place, when you realized how large his hands were. Long thick fingers that had you thinking things you really should not be while standing at a child’s little league practice. Shame filled you as you realized you were no better than those moms you'd just judged. You simple weren't saying your thoughts out loud.

“Oh! Of course. Jeremiah talks about Eli non-stop. He’s been bugging me for months to have him come over.”

“Well, that’s actually why I came over to talk to you. Eli’s been bugging me too and I promised him that I wouldn’t leave practice without setting up something with you. So…is there any time over the next week that works for Jeremiah to come play?”

“What works for you?”

“Any afternoon or evening is okay, as long as there’s no practice. But of course then Jeremiah would be unavailable too so that would be silly. And obviously, you’d be coaching so you know when there’s practice. But I, yeah, anyway, I work in a pediatrician’s office and I get off at three every day so that I can get Eli from school. So, I am available for a date. I mean, for the playdate. For the kids. To have a playdate. At my house.”

The corner of his mouth curved into an amused smile and you just wanted a hole to open up in the dirt and swallow you. Why were you tongue twisted like a fifteen year old girl who was trying to talk to the cutest guy at school? You were a thirty-two year old woman. You'd been a wife. You were a mother. You were a nurse. You were educated. You'd gone to college. You should be able to string words together to make a coherent sentence.

“How about tomorrow?” he asked and you noticed how his eyes flitted down to your left hand, your recently bare ring finger. You'd removed it a month ago when Janice had kindly urged you it was well past time. “I actually have a meeting tomorrow night and my best friend is busy so I have no one to watch Jermiah. If you wouldn’t mind him coming your way for a couple hours, it would really help me out.”

“Oh, no. That would be fine. What time?”

You did not focus on the fact that he needed a babysitter. You did not think about how it sounded like Jeremiah’s mom wasn’t in the picture. You definitely did not feel a thrill that made your stomach flip at the thought of what that could mean for you. Nope. No reason for you to care if he had a woman in his life.

“Four thirty? My meeting is at five. It shouldn’t take more than an hour so I should be there by six thirty.”

“Four thirty is great. I’ll make the boys dinner and I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to have a couple hours to play. No need to rush or anything.”

His head tilted, tongue tracing his bottom lip, one eyebrow lifting, “Or I could grab a pizza on my way over. You know, as a thank you for helping me out and everything.”

“Oh…” Your stomach twisted at his words, the drop on the roller coaster, plunging fast, fear and excitement colliding within you at the thought of him hanging out at your house. The two of you sitting at your kitchen table, sharing food, talking. Those warm eyes, like the earth when the sun comes up in the morning, staring into yours. “That would be nice. I mean, Eli will be ecstatic. He would eat pizza every night if I’d let him.”

“Great.” He flashed you that smile again and you swayed on your feet, completely dazzled by that flash of white teeth, the way his eyes crinkled in the corners.

“Daddy! Come on! Stop talking! We’re ready for practice!”

“Duty calls,” he joked, wiggling his eyebrows as he leaned in, his mouth so close to yours that you could smell the peppermint gum on his breath. “We’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah…see you tomorrow.” You stood, frozen as you watched him make his way toward the group of second graders eager to start running around the bases. No, you definitely were not checking out his ass again. Nope. Definitely not. It suddenly hit you that you still didn’t know his name. Cupping your hands around your mouth, you yelled, “I didn’t get your name!”

He turned, grinning, “Steve! Steve Harrington!”

Chapter 2

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 3 months

Text

The Dirt (Your Version)

Summary: Meeting Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee was a coincidence. Being friends was a choice. But falling in love with them both was beyond your control.

A rewrite of The Dirt with all the highs and lows of Mötley Crüe from your perspective.

Pairings: Nikki Sixx x Reader, Tommy Lee x Reader, Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee x Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Trigger warning- past child abuse, homophobic language

Previous Chapter

Chapter 16- Crash and Burn

After months and months of nonstop touring. Perform, fly to the next city, perform and repeat with no breaks, it burnt the guys out.

Mötley Crüe were pushing the limits of their sobriety. They were exhausted, so depleted, so devoid of all thought and emotion and it wasn't even the end of the tour yet.

"Lemon drop?" A waitress offered, walking over to Mötley's table at the local club while holding out a tray of brightly coloured shots.

"No, thank you. Just some more waters." Nikki politely declined from across the table.

"This is great." Vince commented sarcastically raising his glass of plain water.

You kicked his boot from under the table causing him to glare at you, but he didn't say anything before leaning back against his chair with a heavy sigh.

The rest of the guys tried to distract themselves from the alcohol by watching the girls dance on the poles at the far side of the club, but that clearly wasn't working for Vince.

Tommy excused himself to try and phone his wife again. But it had been a week straight of not being able to reach Heather due to a busy work schedule and it was taking its toll on the drummer.

"They're keeping us on the road. Fifteen new days in Canada." Nikki informed taking a sip of his drink.

"I haven't seen anything about any new dates." Vince responded with a frown.

"Check your itinerary, man."

"I would, but somebody doesn't think it's important to let the lead fucking singer know what the fuck is going on here." Your brother snapped before aggressively grabbing his glass of water and drinking the last of it.

You glanced between him and Nikki, relieved that the bassist didn't retaliate at your brother's hostile tone. Everyone was getting worn out, tempers were running thin, and it was only a matter of time before someone broke.

"Guys, I fucked up." Tommy announced, right on cue.

He plonked himself down on his seat at the table looking tired and miserable.

"Heather's been all weird and distant and I drank." He admitted guiltily staring down at his hands. "Well, a little. I had one shot and I'm sorry."

"I'm gonna have a fucking cocktail too, man. What are you gonna do about it, Nikki?" Vince challenged.

"Everybody falls off the wagon once in a while-"

"Fuck you, man." Vince cut him off causing Nikki to shoot him a heated look. "Fuck off! Fuck the rest of this tour. It is the No Fucking Fun tour, and I am sick and tired of not having any fucking fun."

"Vince-" You tried to say but he abruptly stood up from his chair and began marching off.

"I don't wanna fucking hear it!"

You watched him walk off in the direction of the bar before Nikki shot to his feet and went after him.

Oh, here we go.

You jumped to your feet as well, Mick and Tommy remaining seated watching on to see what would happen as you rushed across the club towards them.

"Hey, we're not done!" Nikki shouted grabbing Vince's jacket.

Your brother spun around and shoved Nikki in the chest hard causing the bassist to stumble back a step.

"We fucking are, man."

"Enough. Both of you." You ordered, stepping between the two of them while holding your hand up towards your brother ready to stop him from doing anything else while eyeing Nikki cautiously out the corner of your eye.

You loved them both dearly, but Vince had more of a temper than Nikki. So, it was him you were worried about at the moment, but you also knew how angry Nikki could get if provoked.

Vince glared at Nikki over your shoulder, his mouth thinning with displeasure before he looked down at you and clenched his jaw tightly as if holding back what he wanted to say.

"Let's just sit back down and take a breather, yeah?" You suggested holding your brothers gaze, but he simply shook his head before looking at Nikki behind you.

"Oh, and by the way..." He began to say, his voice hardening ruthlessly as he grabbed a shot from a waitress walking past. "Here's to your sober band."

Vince down the shot before dropping the glass letting it shatter against the ground before he turned and shouted over his shoulder.

"Get me that itinerary, bass player."

Vince marched off towards the bar and you glanced back at Nikki who looked ready to charge right back after him.

"Don't." You warned, shaking your head. "Just let him cool off."

Nikki let out a heavy exhale but nodded allowing you to walk him back to the table where Mick and Tommy were sitting having watched the whole thing. None of them commented on it, they didn't have to.

Eventually, you convinced the manager to send the band home for a while and you had never seen the guys look so relieved.

They all loved the rockstar life and wouldn't trade it for the world. It was all their dreams coming true, but even Mötley Crüe had their limits and they had found theirs.

After the much-needed break, the band got back into the studio and started working on the next album. Everyone was keen to try and top Dr. Feelgood, everyone except for Vince. Your brother hadn't just drunk that single shot at the club. He had gone back to drinking like he used to before rehab, and it was bad.

Sharise had filed for a divorce and when he returned from the tour, the mansion was empty. His ex-wife had taken his daughter and left without a goodbye. So, Vince turned to the only thing he knew how to do to numb the pain, drink alcohol.

They were all slipping off the wagon again, but Vince was the one who was letting it affect his work. He would constantly show up late to the studio and sometimes, he just wouldn't show up at all and everyone was getting sick of it.

There was a bad storm today, but the guys all came to the studio anyway, battling the conditions but Vince wasn't there despite living the closest. The longer they had to wait, the more pissed they became.

Nikki slammed the phone down after another failed call to Vince's house.

"I'm telling you, guys, everything is fucking upside down and flip-flopping. And while we're waiting for our lead singer to get his head out of his ass, we're getting left in the dust, man." Tommy grumbled, but you knew where this conversation was going. He had said it too many times to count and you didn't want to hear it.

"Tommy, zip it." You warned, glaring over at him from your spot on the couch.

"I'm just saying, bands replace their front men, and it still works. Van Halen-"

"I know Van Halen fucking did it 'cause you say that every single time Vince misses a fucking rehearsal." Nikki said cutting him off.

"Well? Mick?" Tommy asked looking over at the older man for backup.

"Shut it." He ordered causing Tommy to sigh. "Where is this asshole? Every second that goes by, I feel another bone rotting from this fucking disease. Call the prick again."

Nikki lowered his bass and walked back over to the phone on the table, but once again, there was no answer.

"Y/N, seriously, where the fuck is your brother?" Nikki asked, slamming the phone down so hard you feared he may have broken it.

"I'm not his fucking keeper." You snapped from where you were lying on the couch before sighing and taking in a deep calming breath. "He's going through shit. Just give him some time."

"We're all going through shit, and he's had enough time. I'm sending him a fax." Nikki muttered before he stormed out the room.

Nearly an hour later, Tommy sat behind his drums while Nikki and Mick stood nearby with their bass and guitar around their shoulders trying to work out a rhythm for a new song.

You stood in front of the microphone taking over from your brother's position like you usually did whenever he missed these rehearsals. You could not sing like Vince in the slightest. You were a backup singer at the very most, but hearing the lyrics being sung helped the guys with their instruments so you agreed to do it.

Suddenly, the door to the studio slammed open and the music died as Vince marched inside, his hair and clothes drenched from the pouring rain still pelting down from outside.

"Someone wanna tell me what the fuck's going on here?"

"Let's save us all some time, especially yours, Vince, as it's clearly more fucking valuable than ours!" Nikki shouted, walking up to your brother until they were practically toe to toe.

You lowered your hand from the microphone pole and took a few cautious steps towards them not liking how hostile this conversation was already.

"You'd better tell me what the fuck's going on, man." Vince growled.

"What's going on is we're down here, and we're working, and we wanna be here, but we are tired of forcing you to be here with us."

"Maybe I'd come in more if I liked the material."

"Maybe you'd like the material if you were in the studio making it with us instead of staring at your fucking watch!" Tommy barked from behind his drums.

"Yeah, I'm staring at my watch because this album is fucking stupid!"

The bullshit flew back and forth between the guys like a game of tennis until Vince finally threw his racket at the ground.

"You know what? Fuck all y'all. I am done. Fuck this. I quit."

"Good, 'cause you're fucking fired!" Nikki snapped.

"I quit already, dick." Your brother said over his shoulder.

"Whoa, wait, wait." You jogged after him. "No. Vin, bro, come on. Let's just talk about-"

"I'm done."

"Vince-" You grabbed his arm, but he shoved you back forcefully causing you to trip over your own feet and fall to the ground, hard.

"Fuck off, Y/N."

"Whoa!" Nikki shouted, stepping forward protectively.

"What the fuck, man? She's your sister!" Tommy exclaimed, rushing around his drums and dropping to his knees beside you to see if you were okay, but you waved him off.

"She's just a fucking slut who spreads her legs for you guys!" Vince spat.

The room fell silent.

The only sound was the old clock on the wall ticking by at each passing second.

You, Tommy and Nikki froze. Your eyes widened in shock and Vince smiled maliciously.

"You thought I wouldn't find out about that?"

Nobody said anything. You didn't know what to say and doubted you'd be able to speak even if you wanted to.

How the hell did he know?

"When I figured it out, and I figured it out pretty fucking quickly. I wanted to kill you both." Vince growled glaring at Tommy and Nikki. "But I didn't. That wasn't weakness. It took everything."

"Let me explain-" you began to say but he cut you off.

"Explain what? That you're a slut who fucks the two nearest guys?!"

You jumped to your feet in an instant and stalked over to him getting in his face.

"You have no fucking right to say that to me!" You hissed. "Not when you fuck every girl that comes close to you. Not when you cheated on your wife all tour and then wondered why she fucking dumped your ass."

The second the words were out your mouth, you regretted them. It was a low blow. It was true but you shouldn't have said it. Vince was struggling enough as it was with Sharise leaving and his daughter going with her. You shouldn't have bought them into this argument.

Vince took a sudden step forward and you flinched back a step, waiting for the backhand that never came.

Vince had never once laid a hand on you. Even when you were kids and fighting, he never got physical. The two of you got enough hits and bruises from your father, you didn't need to do it to each other. But after what you just said, you thought that he would.

Instead, he glared down at you. His hands clenched together tightly by his sides like he wanted to fight but was holding himself back.

"You are treading on some thin fucking ice, Y/N." Vince warned. "Don't push me."

"Then don't call me a slut and we won't have a problem."

Vince laughed, but it wasn't his usual happy laugh. It was forced and it was mean.

"Then you shouldn't have spread your fucking legs for them!"

"Whoa, that's enough!" Nikki shouted from behind you.

Vince's eyes darted over your shoulder towards the bassist and hardened.

"I told you. I told both of you that my sister was off limits. I fucking told you!"

"We know." Tommy sighed.

"That's all you have to say? You fucked my little sister behind my back and that is all you have to say to me?!"

"What do you want us to say, man?" Nikki asked. "We can't undo what we've done. And you know what? I don't want to undo it. I liked it."

A cloud of warning settled over Vince's features. His jaw tensed visibly, nostrils flaring, and you knew what he was about to do.

You had seen your brother in enough fights over the years to know the signs. From schoolyard fist fights to bar brawls. You knew when Vince was about to start swinging and it was now.

His eyes were zeroed in on one thing, and one thing only: Nikki Sixx.

Vince stepped around you, fury making his boots strike the ground in heavy thumps as he marched up to the bassist. Nikki didn't back away. He stood up straighter, chest expanding, and shoulders pulled back making himself look bigger and fierce.

"Guys, don't." Tommy rushed over knowing as well as you did that this would not end well.

Vince was probably more experienced in fights, but Nikki could hold his own if he had to.

Tommy reached for your brother's shoulder trying to defuse the situation, but Vince shoved the drummer away easily. He stumbled back a few steps crashing into his drum set and knocking over a cymbal with a loud crash.

Nikki was quick to shove Vince back in retaliation for pushing Tommy. Your brothers body staggered back a step not expecting the sudden strength from the bassist before he got his footing and marched right back up to Nikki, his hand forming a fist by his side.

"Enough!" You yelled, slotting yourself between them putting your hands against their chests holding them apart. "Back off. Both of you."

"Let's just talk about this." Mick spoke up from across the room.

"There's nothing to talk about. You guys are fucking dead to me." Vince snarled pointing at Nikki and Tommy before his hard eyes narrowed down at you. "And we're fucking done."

Vince didn't wait for anyone to say anything else before he abruptly turned on his heels and marched towards the door.

"Vince, come on. I'm your sister-"

He glanced over his shoulder and shook his head, "not anymore."

Your hand fell from Nikki's chest. Tears burning in the back of your eyes as you watched your brother leave the studio.

He was gone.

Mötley Crüe was over.

And it was all your fault.

The door slammed shut behind Vince causing you to flinch at the loud bang. You didn't move. You didn't say anything. You just stood there staring at the closed door through blurry tear-filled eyes.

Tommy picked up his cymbal from the floor before taking a hesitant step towards you.

"Y/N..." He began to say but got lost for words.

What could he even say? It was over. It was all over. It was your fault and your brother had disowned you.

"I don't even care anymore." You sighed, wiping the tears from your eyes before slowly walking towards the door. "I’m out."

"Y/N, wait. Don't go." Nikki begged, rushing over and grabbing your arm gently. "Please don't go. Not like this."

You turned and smiled sadly at him through teary eyes.

"Guess you were right all along, Sixx." You thought back to the day he caught you and Tommy in bed all those years ago. "I did end up ruining the band."

You pulled your arm free easily from Nikki's grasp and he didn't try and stop you as you turned and walked out the studio.

Vince's bright sports car sped off down the street in a blur of red paint before skidding around the corner and disappearing out of sight leaving you standing on the sidewalk in the rain.

You thought back to when the two of you were teenagers. Back when Vince had his hopes and dreams set on becoming a rockstar.

Your brother had just left with his surfer buddy to catch some waves before dinner leaving you alone in the house doing your homework at the kitchen bench.

Halfway through trying to solve fraction equations the front door of the house slammed open followed by loud heavy footsteps. Your grip tightened around the pencil hating how you could tell your fathers bad mood by the sound of his footsteps alone.

Choosing to ignore him, you continued working on your math homework with your head down while your father marched across the house. He was muttering and swearing to himself as usual, dumping his lunch bag on the dining room table before walking into the kitchen past you and grabbing a bottle of beer from the fridge.

"Where's your fucking brother?"

"I dunno." You shrugged writing down your calculations.

Vince was currently grounded and not allowed to leave the house after school for the next two weeks. There was no way in hell you were about to snitch on him to your father.

"Hey, look at me when I'm talking." Your father ordered.

Your head instantly snapped up at your father's stern tone and silently cursed yourself for showing disrespect like that.

You met your fathers’ dark eyes, his lips pressing together in anger before he shook his head and pointed to Vince's guitar that was laying across the couch. Your fathers leather couch.

Shit.

Vince had forgotten to put it away before he left.

"Where did he get that from?" Your father demanded.

Ah, crap.

Well, technically, Vince stole it.

"I don't know." You lied.

"I'm fucking sick of this music crap and the gay clothes he's starting to wear. No son of mine is wearing that shit in public. I didn't raise a fucking fag!" Your father growled, glaring at the guitar on the couch.

"He's not gay for wearing those clothes." You mumbled softly under your breath but the second the words were out of your mouth, you knew it was a mistake.

Never talk back.

That was his number one rule, never talk back. Your father was huge on respect and responsibility. He had drilled that into you and Vince as kids and you had just broken that rule.

Your father was on you like a rash and before you knew it, you were being hauled from your chair and slammed up against the kitchen cabinet.

His breath smelt like whiskey, having already been down to the local bar after work to drink and spend money the family didn't even have. It was nothing new, but now you understood why his anger was on a shorter leash than usual.

You stood up straight, your back pressed against the wooden door of the cabinet, but despite how strong you were pretending to be, you were scared. Your heart was beating out of your chest, and you could feel your hands starting to tremble by your side.

You were so dead.

"What have we talked about?"

This was a test.

He was giving you a chance to correct yourself. A chance to plead your guilt and apologise, but you were goddamn sick of apologising to him for stuff that didn't warrant it.

You remained silent tilting your head up high maintaining eye contact to show you weren't afraid, but he knew you were. He could always tell. And you were always afraid.

"Speak when spoken to!" He shouted, his face inches from yours causing you to flinch back.

"Vince can wear whatever he wants." You answered, hating the way your voice trembled. "It's not your decision and it doesn't make him gay."

His jaw clenched and you knew exactly what was about to happen.

A split second later, his knuckles collided with your jaw snapping your head to the side, blood filling your mouth.

"You are a slow fucking learner, girl." He hissed, looking down at you before you spat blood at his face.

He was already pissed. Might as well make it worth it.

His fist instantly collided with the side of your face again, the force of the hit slamming the back of your head against the cabinet door behind you. His hand balled into a fist against the collar of your jacket, pressing you harder against the door.

Your stepmother suddenly walked into the house only just getting home from work, but completely froze when she saw the scene in front of her.

You glanced over at her, silently begging her to do something, to say something, to help, but she never did. Your father suddenly grabbed your chin and turned your head back towards him, forcing you to look at him, and only him.

"Go to your room and don't come out until school tomorrow. No dinner either."

Then, he released his hold of you and walked out the kitchen, but you remained leaning against the cabinet for a few minutes breathing heavily and fighting back the tears you could feel rising in your eyes.

Your stepmother stared at you for a moment, sadness washing over her before she walked away without a word.

You peeled yourself off the wooden door and grabbed Vince's guitar from the couch before your father could break it. Dumping the guitar in your brother's bedroom, you made a beeline for his window and slid it open before climbing out and running away from the house and away from your father's wrath.

A few minutes later, you were walking along the soft floury sand of the beach. The sun was shining brightly in the vast never ending blue sky above you and just the scent of salt water and fresh air made you feel better.

Seagulls were squawking above your head as they flew by searching for leftover food while you walked along the shore in the shallows of the sea.

Looking around you noticed that the beach was fairly secluded. There were no normal sights of tourists with day-glow tans, no tacky food stands or chattering children. The beach was completely empty at this time on a weekday. It was beautiful.

The entire stretch of golden beach was bare except for two figures in the distance, surfing along the waves gracefully.

Vince.

You slowly made your way down the beach, sand crunching under your feet with each step until you reached his towel that was laid over the soft sand and you sat down on top of it.

Vince and his surfer buddy were cutting through the waves with ease, soaring along the coast like they had done it a thousand times before, which they had. You and your brother practically lived at the beach. It was your safe haven away from the drama at home.

Closing your eyes, you took in a deep calming breath memorized by the rhythm of the waves breaking on the shore as you savoured the salty air.

When you opened your eyes again, there was only one surfer still out there, but you could hear footsteps in the sand approaching you.

Tilting your head to the side, you spotted Vince walking towards you with his surfboard clamped under his left arm. The second he saw the angry red mark on your cheek his relaxed and happy expression hardened.

He stared at your cheek and gritted his teeth in anger before he dropped his board down onto the sand. He grabbed a can of coke out his friend's cooler nearby and held it out towards you while motioning towards the bruising mark.

"What happened?"

"Nothing." You dismissed grabbing the coke and pressing the cold can to the side of your face with a wince.

"Y/N, what did he do this time?"

You sighed, looking away from your brother hating how you could feel tears beginning to burn in the back of your eyes.

"I'm going to fucking kill him." Vince growled, but you knew he couldn't.

Sure, Vince was getting older and stronger, but your father was an ex-military man turned mechanic. Vince couldn't beat him in a fight, not yet anyway. The still healing blackeye on your brother's face was enough evidence of that.

You weren't going to tell him about the things your father had said. He had made it clear to your brother about his hate towards the music and glam style clothes. Vince didn't need a reminder about that, and you didn't want him to stop wearing that stuff just because of your stupid father.

"One day, I'm getting us out of that fucking house." Vince said, sitting down on the towel beside you. "Away from this shitty neighbourhood. Away from him. Away from all of it. I promise."

"You can't promise that." You whispered, wiping the tears from your eyes.

"I can." He insisted. "Soon, I'll be in a band, and we won't have to see him ever again."

You wanted to believe him. You really did. Vince had the skill to make it as a rockstar, that wasn't up for debate, but the chances of it happening? Pretty slim.

"No matter what happens, we stick together, yeah?" Vince said looking over at you.

You tilted your head towards him and smiled, "you and me against the world, bro."

"You're damn right."

He wrapped his arm around your back and pulled you into his side. The salt water from his long-wet hair mixed in with your tears as you rested your head against his shoulder.

The two of you sat on the beach together with your toes in the cool sand watching the waves crash along the shore while silently dreading the thought of going back home.

Now, you stood alone outside the recording studio in the rain, salty tears falling down your cheeks.

Vince had made it as a rockstar. He kept his promise and had gotten you both out of that abusive home, but now he was gone.

No matter what happens, we stick together.

What a bunch of bullshit.

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auteurdelabre · 2 months

Text

PLEASE, MISTER MILLER? (Sequel part 5) BFDJoel! x f!Reader

Chapter summary: You and Joel navigate long distance, your parents and the realization that college graduation is just around the corner.

series masterlist

rating: 18+

a/n: Y'all this chapter is a fuckin beast. I had to break it up because its lookin' like another marathon chapter and I am a slut for comments so I had to break it up. Please comment, reblog, all that good juju and you'll make your girl real happy.

---------------------------

I miss you.

[HIM💜]Miss you too, baby.

Send me a pic.

[HIM💜]

NOT THAT KIND.

[HIM💜]

Much better. You're cute, Miller.

[HIM💜] You're not so bad yourself, Snowflake.

I wish you were here, Joel. I keep waking up thinking you'll be next to me.

[HIM💜] I feel the same, baby. I keep looking over in bed expecting to see you and that way you smile when you’re all sleepy. Then I get all blue when it's nothing but empty mattress.

[HIM💜] Is it cheesy if I say I can't wait to hold you again?

Not at all. I’m counting down the days until graduation.

[HIM💜] Coming up quick. You excited?

Sorta. What are you doing right now?

[HIM💜] You alone?

Yep.

[HIM💜 CALLING]

Joel's face pops up on your phone, smiling at you from what looks like a hardware store. Warmth floods you as you gaze at him. You see that he’s dressed casually, a grey t-shirt over his broad torso, a baseball cap over his tussled curls.

"Hey, baby." He smiles broadly at you and you swear you can feel your heart skip a beat.

"Where are you?"

"Paint store." He holds up a color swatch if several shades of dark green. "Whadda ya think of this color?"

He holds the simple up closer to the camera. Some of his curls peek out near his neck under his hat. You can still feel their silken texture wrapped around your fingers like some sensual ghost.

Fuck you miss him.

"Nice," you offer. "What's this for?"

"Wanna repaint my bedroom," he says grinning like an excited schoolchild.

“Why are you repainting your bedroom?” You ask amused. Joel’s face contorts from beaming excitement to a somber flinch and you regret asking it.

"Tess moved out last weekend," Joel says almost timidly. “And uh, I wanted to repaint. Fresh start and all that.”

Your stomach jumps at those words. Tess moved out. For the past few months you and Joel have been in regular contact via phone and texting. He mentioned that the divorce papers were drawn up, that Tess had agreed to it with an almost upsetting lack of emotion. But actually knowing that she had moved out? That feels momentous.

"Woah, so it's really over," you croak with a nervous shiver breaking out along your body.

"Was over for a long time, baby," Joel assures you. "This just makes it official."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just feel guilty. Feel like I should be more upset but I'm just so fucking relieved."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You pause, uncertain where you two stand. Yes you said you wanted to continue this together. But what does that mean exactly? Maybe now that Joel is single again he’ll want to play the field. And why not? He’s early forties, gorgeous and has the most wonderful, caring personality of anyone you’ve ever met. Why wouldn’t he want to sleep around and have fun before committing himself to a relationship again?

"You've gone quiet, baby."

You give a smile to yourself. "Just thinking."

"Thinkin' 'bout what?"

"Just that you're getting divorced, and maybe... Maybe you want to sow your wild oats or something." You cringe at your phrasing. "Maybe you don't wanna be tied down in a relationship right away.”

You aren't expecting the sharp laugh from over the line. You love how his eyes crinkle when he smiles at you. You watch him move to a corner of the store that’s a little quieter, a little more private. Then he switches the call to voice only. You raise the phone to your ear, heart thudding.

"Don't you think you're the one that should be sowing wild oats?" Joel chuckles. "You're the one in her twenties."

"Nah, I've done enough of that," you admit shyly.

"So've I," Joel tells you and he sounds earnest.

"Maybe you don't wanna be tied down in a relationship you know?" You offer feebly. "I mean, maybe you wanna date around or... I dunno."

You trail off feeling embarrassed.

"Only interested in datin' one girl and it's the one I’m talkin’ to," Joel says evenly. "Same girl who has me smiling like a fuckin' idiot at my phone so much my brother commented on it at work."

You can't help but blush, even though he's not even there to see it. "Yeah?"

"Yep. Had to tell him it was a dating app just so he'd leave me alone."

You laugh at the thought. You don't know Tommy other than what Joel tells you, but he sounds like trouble. The fun kind.

“I’m lookin’ very forward to seein’ her next month,” Joel offers and you feel your lower belly pool with arousal at the sound. “Thought I’d book us in at the same hotel but only one bed this time.”

“Mmm I’d like that,” you coo, sighing softly at the thought.

“Yeah?” Joel’s voice is so low it’s a purr. “Eager to make up for lost time?”

“Mhmmm.” You can’t help but feel the tug of lust skittering across your body. “I can’t stop thinking about all the things I wanna do to you, Mister Miller. My pussy is dripping just thinking about it. How do you wanna fuck me first?”

“Fuck,” Joel hisses out and you giggle at the sound. He turns the phone back to face time and you see his pupils blown wide.

“Don’t do that to me here, honey. Not while I’m lookin’ at paint samples. Now, be a good girl and tell me, what do you think of this one?"

He holds up the paint sample again. It’s a dark green, too dark for a bedroom in your opinion. But You think back to sitting on the hotel bed with Joel during your time together. Of him telling you that Tess took control of everything down to the color of his bed sheets and you hesitate.

You don’t want to do that to him. You don’t want to control him.

"I like it," you answer, narrowing your eyes slightly. "It's just..."

"What?"

Joel is frowning at the screen now, looking concerned at your thoughtful silence. He raises a brow when you look back at the phone.

"It's a really nice color," you concede. "I love green."

"But?"

"But nothing."

"Baby," Joel says gently, a softness in tone that draws your gaze to his waiting eyes. "C'mon now, no lies here."

"Doesn't matter what I like."

"Matters to me."

You feel anxiety pricking at your body, making you nibble the inside of your cheek. Joel watches you through the phone, you see people wandering the aisle behind him.

"I think it might be too dark," you finally offer. "But that's only because to me a bedroom should make you feel calm and relaxed. I've always been partial to blues. But honestly, Joel, that's just personal preference. You should get what you're drawn to. With all that green it's like you're sleeping in the forest which I know you like."

Joel nods, lower lip stuck out in thought. All of a sudden you hear a key at your door and you panic.

"Shit, I gotta go."

The call ends just as Sarah walks into the dorm room yawning. She almost trips over the cardboard boxes the two of you had been packing earlier.

"I'm so sick of essay formatting," she says with a groan as she tosses her backpack onto the ground.

"Same." You peek at her over your phone. "There's an iced coffee for you in the fridge."

"Have I told you lately that I love you?" Sarah sings, taking the coffee from the fridge and throwing herself on the bed next to you.

You wouldn't love me if you knew why I bought it.

You give a short smile, giggling as she rubs her shoulder next to yours, urging you to give her more room on your bed. She's often remarked that despite you both having the same college -dorm -issued mattress that yours is far more comfortable.

“It’ll all be worth it when I’m walking around South America with Charlie this summer,” Sarah sighs. “Three whole months of museums and delicious food and-“

“Fucking,” you finish for her. She blushes wildly before pushing you with her arm.

"I feel like you've been buying me a ton of stuff lately," Sarah muses all of a sudden. "You never let me pay for dinner and this is like the tenth time you've had coffee waiting for me. What gives?"

You force a natural looking smile on your face.

"Dunno. Guess since we won't be roommates next year I'm just trying to enjoy you while I can."

And because I've been fucking your dad in secret for months and have no intention of stopping.

Sarah gives a sarcastic laugh before growing somber. "Are you nervous about graduation next month?"

"A little," you say honestly, your eyes drifting from her face to the popcorn ceiling above you. "I still haven't told my parents about grad school."

"What?" Sarah drains the last of her coffee before propping herself up on an elbow and looking at you severely. "Why?"

"Dunno."

That's a lie. You know exactly why. Because you're parents are the least supportive, most caustic people you know. Sarah frowns at you over her drink.

"You're gonna have to tell them eventually."

"Yeah I know."

“Have you seen Conrad lately?”

“Not since the trip,” you answer with a small smirk.

Thankfully you haven’t seen Conrad since that night months ago when he caught you and Joel fucking in your bed. You’ve seen him in passing around campus a few times, but he usually just goes red in the face and strides past you.

"I'm so glad you dumped him," Sarah tells you with a guilty smile. "I was so worried he was gonna propose in Ibiza and be stuck rearing his moron kids. But ever since you got back you've been different."

"Different?"

"Yeah," she nods giving a knowing smile.

She pushes herself off of the bed and goes to the boxes she’d been in the process of packing before classes. She sits herself down on the rug, staring up at you looking into middle distance, still laying on the bed.

You take a moment to covertly look through your photos of Joel. Fuck you miss him. You look at the photo of him at the gallery, of him in glasses, of the two of you in bed, of him carrying your bags to the elevator. You smile.

"Is it the married guy?"

You don't answer. You don't want to answer. You don't want to know what Sarah thinks about you being with a married man, especially when that man is her father.

You sit up and join her on the floor, going through the box you yourself were packing before Joel called. It’s your collection of trinkets collected during your time in school. A ticket stub from your first theatre going here, a cut out from the school paper where you’d submitted an article on the anthropology of monogamy, amongst other clutter that makes you smile.

"Well if it is, it seems like he's making you really happy," she offers tentatively. “Honestly in all the time I’ve known you I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy.”

“Well I did get into my Masters program,” you remind her. “And I am graduating with honors.”

“Right,” Sara concedes as the two of you continue packing up your modest dorm room, wrapping her horse figurines in newspaper. She glances over into your box of trinkets and spots the carving Joel made for you. The one that you’ve rubbed down with your thumb over months of keeping it in your pocket.

“You still have that?” Sarah says with a sweet expression on her face. “Isn’t that the one my dad carved for you?”

“Yeah,” you nod, forcing yourself to sound neutral.

“I love that you kept it,” Sarah says with a hand over her heart. “My Dad loves carving these things. I have so many from over the years. Soccer balls, horses, mermaids. Even a dragon from when I was really obsessed with them.”

You love hearing stories about Joel and so you listen intently while trying to appear casual. But every time you get a new piece of information something in you bubbles in delight. The thought of your Joel in the world maybe carving at this very moment.

Your Joel.

“Well it was really nice of him,” you say. “More thoughtful than anything my parents ever bought me.”

Your eyes trail to the dress hanging over the door of your closet and you sigh. The latest gift from your parents, a dress for graduation. A virginal white dress with ruffles that doesn’t suit you at all.

“Oh my God do you remember this play?” Sarah asks holding up your torn ticket. “The fucking lighting guy kept missing the cue and the actress was in darkness half the show?”

The two of you collapse into giggles at the memory and you realize with a small devastation that Sarah is the closest thing you've ever had to a best friend. She's supportive and encouraging. She helps you study, she was there for you when you broke up with Conrad, she was the first person you told about grad school because she was the one that insisted you apply.

“Who cares what your parents think? This is your life!”

There's a very large part of you that hates how you're keeping everything from her even though you know there's no other option. It runs a thread of fear through you that makes you question how you and Joel can continue.

Would Sarah support it? Or would she be disgusted? You don't really know. You've never been on Sarah's bad side before. When you and Joel have talked about it he's been clear that he wants to be the one to bring it up to Sarah 'if it gets to that point'. But when will you both know you’ve reached that point?

“Tell me more about married guy,” Sarah insists, nudging your knee with her socked foot. “I wanna know everything.”

“He’s…well, he’s great. Handsome and smart and he really listens to me,” you eventually admit with an amused pull of your lips. “He makes me really happy, Sarah. I’ve told him stuff I’ve never told anyone.”

Sarah’s eyes go soft. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Your eyes drop to your hands and you feel tears start at the corners. “I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust him. He makes me feel… Cared for.”

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence as you continue packing up your dorm items. Suddenly Sarah pipes up.

“Is he good in bed?”

You try to swallow the disgusted expression on your face, but she catches it. Her eyes widen with amusement as she tosses a throw pillow at your head. You catch it, trying to will the panic from your expression.

“What?” Sarah gives a small giggle. “You used to tell me everything you and Conrad did, which wasn’t much by the way. But now you’re a vault?”

“It’s uh, just different with him,” you say quickly lowering your eyes to the newspaper you pack your collectibles in. “It feels more… special. I dunno how to describe it. Next question.”

“Are you in love with him?”

You barely pause.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yeah I am.”

///

Sarah leaves for her evening class later that night and you sit staring at your phone. You want to call Joel and tell him how much you miss him. You want him to speak filth into your ears so you can come. You want to be in his arms with his full mouth on yours. You just want him.

The future is so precarious in many ways. When you’d received your acceptance letter into your Masters program you’d been delighted. When you’d called Joel later that day he’d been so fucking supportive it brought tears to your eyes.

And yet you couldn’t bring yourself to tell your parents. Couldn’t stand the knowledge that a man you’d known for less than six months had known exactly how to support your successes better than your own parents did.

But it’s time now. Graduation is next week and they’ll be coming out to ask your plans. They’ll take you to your fancy dinner and they’ll espouse how a future in Anthropology is a hobby. How you should have gone into Business or something more realistic. And you’ll sit there like you always do with your eyes on your plate willing the evening to be over.

Get it over with.

You punch in your parent’s number and raise your phone to your ear. Your stomach twists when you hear the sound of the phone ringing as you hold your cell to your ear. Despite the fact that you're calling them on any other line, it almost feels like the ring home seems more barren, more echo-ey.

The phone clicks and you hear your mom bark out your name. You wince.

"Hey mom."

"Hello. Did you get the dress?”

“Yes Mom,” you say in an obedient tone.

“Well, it’s quite late. Is anything the matter?"

"No," you say feeling your heart in your chest. "I'm calling because I wanted you to-"

"We received the graduation tickets," your mother continues, not even listening to you. "Not even assigned seating. Ridiculous."

There's something about calling home that makes you feel impossibly small and insignificant, but not in a comforting way. More the reminder that you could be squashed under foot at any moment.

"Yes well that's why I'm calling, sort of-"

"Speak up I can barely hear you."

You sigh deeply, trying to steady your voice. "I wanted to let you and Dad know that I got into that Master's program for the fall."

There is a loaded silence and then you hear your mother cover the phone and murmur. She’s probably telling your father. Finally her voice comes back over the line, crisp and abraisive.

"I hope you don't expect us to fund that daydream.”

You knew it was coming and yet it doesn't remove the sting entirely.

"Nope. I've got enough scholarships to cover it so far. Just need a part time job for extra expenses. I just wanted to tell...." You trail off.

You hear the sound of your father calling your mother's name in the background.

"Your father is tired, darling. He has to be awake early and the light from the phone is keeping him up. We'll see you at graduation."

The line goes dead and you throw your cell onto the bed angrily. You can't wait until fucking graduation is over and done with. You can't wait until you're parents are out of your life for another semester.

///

Sarah’s in class. Wanna chat a bit?

[HIM💜] Can’t baby. Tommy fucked up one of the orders and I gotta get it fixed quick.

The tone is sharp and you can hear his irritation flowing through the screen. You go to type out your response when another one of his comes through to the screen.

[HIM💜] I’ll give you a ring later tonight.

It’s final, resolute. He doesn’t have time for you right now and that’s totally fine… Except his words from earlier are echoing around in your brain. Eager to make up for lost time? Fuck yes you are. You can already feel arousal pooling between your lips.

In the months between spring break and now you’ve done your fair share of phone sex. Joel is remarkably adept at getting you off with only his voice, his words and the distant sound of his belt rasping against his zipper as he strokes himself.

You sent back racy photos every now and again, nothing too obscene for fear that Tess might see. Your face is never included for the same reason.

But right now you’re so fucking horny for him and you need to make him come for you. Probably because you know you shouldn’t bother him. It’s that bratty urge that pops its head out every once and again, urging you to push him, to test him, to make him want you, hard for you even when he shouldn’t.

You look at one of your packed boxes and are suddenly inspired. You pull the tabs open before reaching in and pulling out one of your packed winter items. The snowflake skirt. The skirt that tipped the scales in your relationship. You smile.

You shimmy out of your jeans, shirt and panties before pulling the skirt on and standing in front of the mirror. After a moments deliberation you remove your bra as well, giving yourself a once over and smiling in satisfaction.

You get onto the bed and begin to do a selection of seductive poses, aiming your camera, setting it on a timer and trying your best angles before deciding on a few that turn you on. Your first selection is the snowflake skirt hooked up over the globe of your ass. You’re leaned forward, presenting to the camera. The result is a peek of your glistening folds framed by your skirt on your pale pink sheets. Filthy.

You giggle just at the thought of sending these to Joel while he’s in the middle of work. Your fingers dance over the screen of your phone.

I miss you.

[HIM💜] I told you I was busy, baby.

You feel another bubble of laughter begin as your finger hovers over the selected thumbnail of your naked form. You toss over the idea in your head a moment before pressing send and waiting. His response is almost immediate.

[HIM💜] Are you insane? I’m at work.

I didn’t know you were gonna check your phone!

I was just sending it for later.

[HIM💜] Little liar.

Just missing you. You missing me?

[HIM💜] You know I am. Now stop it.

You can almost hear it in his growled timber.

You giggle before sorting through your remaining photos. You send him the one of you lying on your back, tits out and pussy wet and spread wantonly with your fingers. Your skirt is bunched up around your waist. Your eyes are half lidded looking up into the camera and you bite your lower lip. It's fucking debauched and you send it with a little thrill in your stomach.

He doesn’t reply right away and a part of you is worried that he’s not checked his phone. You wait a few moments before typing out your message to him, a small smirk on your face.

I'm so wet just Thinking about your cock. How good it felt. Wish you were fucking me right now.

[HIM💜] Quit it.

You shouldn’t be as turned on as you are, but you can’t help it. Your fingers begin to rub your clit in earnest, knowing that he’s looking at these photos at work. Knowing that he can’t just stroke his cock in his office. With your free hand you type shakily.

Wish I was sucking your cock under your desk, Mister Miller. Want you to fuck my mouth in the middle of work with people around. Wanna make you come down my throat.

[HIM💜] You like acting like a filthy little slut?

There’s the inherent menace of that statement combined with your arousal that sets the next action into motion. You press voice record and place the phone next to your head. Your breathing is heavy and labored. You imagine Joel in bed next to you, the smell of him, the way his beard rasped between your inner thighs. It’s not long before your groaning and coming hard on your fingers, whimpering his name.

With shaky breath you send the voice memo off and slip into a drowsy warmth. His response is delayed a few minutes, likely because he’s listening to it. The thought amuses and thrills you. Finally a beep sounds through.

[HIM💜] Two can play this game, baby.

///

He doesn’t call you that evening but you’re so busy with studying for finals you don’t really notice. It’s not until your morning lecture the next day that you get a text from him. Distracted you glance at the number and see his name. With a smile you assume it's a cute message and click it, shocked when you see the very obvious erection barely hidden in his boxers.

Your heart jumps and you glance behind you to ensure that the other classmates in your lecture hall haven’t seen. None of them glance your way; all are focused on the professor talking at the podium about your final exam next week.

WTF JOEL. I’m in class!

[HIM💜] Sorry baby. Just missing you.

He’s not sorry at all and you both know it.

You go red in the face before dashing out of your class and into the nearest bathroom. It's mercifully empty and you take the nearest stall. You open your messages and feel a giddy thrill go through you when you see he’s sent through a video.

There's a mixture of embarrassment, terror and thrilling excitement that goes through you at the sight. Joel sent you a dirty video. He's never done that. You can only assume it's payback from your texts yesterday and you couldn't be more delighted.

You lean back against the stall, not even feeling the cool metal because you’re so focused on your cell phone. With trembling fingers you pop your ear buds in and press play. Joel's husky baritone immediately floods your ears and you close your eyes.

"Those were some filthy fucking photos you sent me yesterday," his voice murmurs off screen, sleepy and rumbled. "And sending ‘em to me at work. Naughty girl. I was hard all fuckin’ day."

You smile gently to yourself at the thought of it. Joel stuck behind his desk, jeans tight as his erection pulses desperately. Your eyes open now and you see that he’s lifted his phone to point at his waist. He’s lying in bed, you recognize the sheets. He’s naked now, but he’s not pointing it at his cock yet.

"Don't know that you deserve this video at all," Joel teases and you watch his lower belly twitch. "You're lucky I like you so much."

That little comment thrills you. The camera points down, showing you the glistening head of his cock. Beads of pre-cum already dot it.

"Betcha wish you were licking this thick cock right now, aren't you my sweet little slut?"

His wide hand lazily strokes, making you whimper to yourself in the empty stall.

"This is your come baby," Joel mutters behind the camera. "Been saving it up all day. Thinking about you and t-that... Video we made. Watched it this mornin'."

He breaks off and you watch his wide hand start to jerk his cock more hurriedly, moving more towards the head you desperately wish you were licking.

"You looked so fucking good. T-that innocent way you looked up at me with my cock stuffed in your pretty mouth."

Your pussy is throbbing at this point, watching your sexy boyfriend jerk off for you while he babbles filth in that sexy twang of his.

"You like being my little slut, baby?" Joel croons. "Like knowing I'm carrying around that video? Watching you suck my cock anytime I want?"

Fuck yes you do.

"And you look so fucking eager for it," Joel breathes and you hear that familiar urgency in his voice as he nears his climax. "So desperate to swallow my cock... Tits painted.... Painted with my come."

You’re absolutely soaked, your nipples stiff peaks under your t-shirt. You want nothing more than to be on your knees in front of him, his cock in your mouth. This is pure torture.

“And then those f-fuckin’ photos,” Joel groans and it’s a debauched sound that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “That perfect fuckin’ pussy so wet for me. The way you’re.. touchin-“

Whatever he was about to say is lost in the garbled grunt of his orgasm. His hands stutter and then he comes in thick ropes spurting from between his knuckles, his moans ragged and broken from behind the screen

"All for you, baby, this come is all for you," he's rambling as he erupts. "All yours my good, good little slut."

And then the video ends. Another message has come through.

[HIM💜] Just a preview for next week. Have a great class, baby.

You stand in the stall panting and wet. You're so turned on its insane.

How the fuck are you supposed to last until graduation?

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sugaimhome · 1 year

Text

you and me, always, forever - myg

pairing: boyfriend yoongi x female reader (established relationship)

genre: smut, so much fluff

word count: 1.5k (single part)

mdni!

summary: sometimes sadness consumes you, the grief is always there, always waiting to pounce, but you also always have yoongi to fuck it away.

warnings: mentions of grief + loss, yoongi is soft, slight dom yoongi, reader is grieving, missionary, he ignores her boobs, mentions of hand on neck and spanking but its only mentions, kisses, a tiny bit of oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, cockwarming.

authors note: everyone deals with grief and loss differently, if this is triggering for anyone, my dms are open, i know what it's like to lose someone close and i am always here to listen.

Sobs consume your body, every muscle, every fiber, every feeling brings you immense pain. It consumed you, this pain, this loss, and you were alone in feeling it. Yoongi had gone out shopping, and nearly three months after it had happened you were sure you would be perfectly fine being alone for a while. Grief was easier with people around you, they distracted you from the larger scheme of pain, forced you to think of other things, but when you were alone, you had time to think, and that didn’t seem to be good for anyone. You’re curled up on the sofa, scrolling through old pictures on your phone, still sobbing, when Yoongi comes in the door. You instantly sit up, throwing your phone behind you and quickly wiping the tears from your face, as if you could hide this from him.

The thing was, you were so fed up with being a burden on him, you’d been with him for nearly two years, but this was by far the hardest thing you had ever been though, you were scared of depressing him too, and losing him as well.

“Y/N” he says, dropping the shopping and coming over to you, running a hand over your cheek, wiping away the tears you didn’t manage to. “It’s okay, i’m back.”

You pushed your face into his hand harder, you craved his touch, his comforting silence that kept you at bay from your thoughts. “I’m sorry Yoongi” you tell him, eyes wide and bloodshot looking up at him sadly.

“You don’t need to apologise, my love” he frowns, he holds your hand, pulling you from the couch and into his arms, he sways the two of you back and forth for a moment, running one hand through your hair, the other gripped tight around your waist. He steadies your breathing. He grounds you to him. Yoongi wasn’t good with words, this you knew, it was something you had learnt about him more recently. Why he was like this, you weren’t sure, he could write the most breathtaking raps full of emotion and vulnerability, yet he couldn’t find the words to comfort you. It had upset him to begin with, he had wanted to speak all these wise words to you, but nothing he said seemed good enough. You’d told him months ago,

“Yoongi, I don’t need you to be a philosopher, I need you to hold me.”

And that was what he had done since then. A few words “it's okay”, “i love you” and “i’m here.” That's all you needed, all you wanted. The feeling of his hands on you, his lips, his cock. That was all you needed. Then, once you had calmed down again and the world returned to its normal axis, the two of you would talk about your normal things, music, friends, work. No one would struggle, everything would be okay.

Your connection to Yoongi scared you, your reliance upon him when you were like this, you were scared of him leaving you. But he stayed, he will stay, the promise ring on your finger swore that, and you trusted him, more than anyone in this world. “Yoongi” you sigh, the tears now back behind their little mental wall, though the sadness still has you in a grip.

“Mmmh” he hums.

“Make it go away” you say softly, “please.”

He doesn’t reply, just walks the two of you across your flat toward your bedroom. You’re surprised he hasn’t picked you up, thrown you over his shoulder like he normally did when you asked him to do this for you. Normally it was fast and hard, with his hand around your neck or a hand spanking your ass, and it normally started with him man-handling you. Why? Because the fear and pain of sex made the fear and pain of grief go away, but today, he gently placed you onto the bed, kissing your neck and your bare arms as he did. Yoongi pulls your little silk pajama top over your head, leaving your boobs on display to him, but he doesn’t touch them, hardly looks at them as he hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties and pulls them down over your knees, chucking them behind him without a care as to where they landed. He presses soft kisses to the inside of your thighs, painfully far away from your center. “So beautiful,” he says, looking at you, and you blush, because any compliment he ever gave had this effect on you, sometimes it was like the two of you were in your first weeks of dating again. He watches you blush, knowing that his words had that effect on you. Then, without much of a warning, he licks one stripe up your core, pretty much from your asshole to your clit. Whining, you urge him to do it again, but he seems to still be doing things in his own time, he’s still the one in control here.

“Wait, Y/N.” he frowns, still between his legs. “It will feel better if you wait.”

Before you can complain, he does the same action again, licking up your entrance and over your clit. Trying to urge him on, you thread your hands through his hair and try to push him onto you. He pulls away quickly, still stronger than you, and huffs, probably annoyed.

“Y/N, let me make love to you please” he complains, threading one of his hands through yours.

“But-” you begin, though he cuts you off.

“Don’t be afraid to feel emotions Y/N.” he tells you, rubbing his thumb over your hand. “I just wanna be close to you. Want you to feel me everywhere.”

He’s kissing on your neck again, he feels so close, so much closer than he normally does. It's enough for you to agree. “Please, Yoongi, make love to me”

To the outside world, this may have sounded a little cringy, but to you and Yoongi, in this moment, you were each other's worlds, and what happened outside didn’t matter. You let him kiss you slowly, kiss you everywhere whilst you let out little moans and whines for more, though you know you wont get it. There may be tears in your eyes, but he kisses them away. And as he strips down to his shirt, and pulls off his jeans, all you can do is tell him how much you love him. How much you need him. How thankful you are that you have him.

He quickly silences you when he enters you, slow and sweet and you can feel every gorgeous inch and vein of his glorious cock. He groans and so do you. It was wonderful, you hadn't felt Yoongi like this in so long. Gripping onto his biceps, so hard you were bound to leave marks with your nails, you anchor yourself to him as hips press against your stomach. “I love you” you say, your voice soft, raw from the pleasure.

“I love you” he tells you back, his cock still pressed into the deepest area of your core. He's so close to your cervix in this position, he fits you so well. You want to tell him this, but he’s slowly pulling out, his cock dragging your walls, you feel him in every part of your body, and it leaves you speechless. Gosh, you loved him. You loved this.

You thread a hand through his hair, he’d been growing it out long recently and it suited him so well. You play with his hair as he pushes into you, still slow and deep, his lips brushing yours on every thrust of his smooth hips. His name falls from your mouth like a constant prayer. “Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi” at every thrust, because he's your everything. Consumed by him, filled by his cock and his soft touches, you’re nearing your orgasm, and it's obvious in the way your pussy flutters around him.

“I love you” he tells you, and you don’t know if this is permission to cum, because that's what he normally gives you, but with your heart full of his love, and your brain void of all thoughts but him, you orgasm. Spasming around his cock, which is what makes him cum, ropes of white warming you from the inside, mixing with your wetness as Yoongi continues softly moving though your orgasms.

Instead of collapsing on top of you, and suffocating you with his body, he flips the two of you around, still inside of you, going soft. You’re against his chest, tracing the outline of a heart over his heart, so glad that it keeps him alive, so grateful he's alive. That he’s here with you. With him, you’ll never be alone. As he goes soft, his cock plugs in all the cum he's spent inside of you, and you look up at him wide eyed, one day, the two of you would put that cum to use, you’d get married, have kids, grow old, hold hands. He offered you all of that, he offered you hope.

You fall asleep thinking of him as he runs a hand through your hair, his cock still inside of you. Distantly, you think you hear him say "you and me, always, forever" but you're not sure, and you're asleep before you can think any more of it.

tag list:

@shadybarbariancherryblossom @crazyforbangtan @chimmisbae @kykyxstandler @screamertannie @borahoe @jeonpurr

ty for reading <3

pls use the link via my navigation to be added to a tag list !!

#yoongi #min yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #min #min yoongi #min yoongi smut #min yoongi x y/n #bts x reader #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts #bts fluff #bts suga #yoongi imagine #bts imagines

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oxittocin · 2 months

Note

I was wondering if you could write

How robin would react to aftercare from a gn reader after first time like a hot bath or a massage just to help her sore body parts if it's not too much to ask of course....

soft (nico robin x reader)

nico robin masterlist

thank you for the request, my friend. here's my take on this - i hope you find it satisfactory. i am just a nico robin simp and i am not a writer by any means so please accept my humble offerings :]

cw: suggestive (mdni!), gn!reader

Love is a funny word that evokes a spectrum of emotions, depending on its adjective. Love can be sweet, secure, overbearing, suffocating, dark, temporal, lasting, kind, chaste, lustful, conflicted, permanent - anything, everything, or nothing at all.

You’ve experienced plenty in this lifetime. Whirlwind romances that make your heart run wild and free, taking risks with a kind of reckless abandon that only youths can afford. Or perhaps even sweet dates under cherry blossom trees and spring, like splitting a banana milkshake and sharing a cone of ice-cream. Maybe you’ve even had a few one-night stands, drunk on the taste of liquor and sin on a faceless stranger’s tongue. One or two committed partnerships, even, months spent mapping out a future, only to see it go down the drain.

You thought you’d seen everything love and life had to offer, until you met her.

How could you even begin to describe her? Words fail you before you could even form a coherent thought. Nothing you say, write or think could ever do her justice.

She, who carries the weight of the world on her shoulders. She, who continues to live on resolutely, in spite of the injustice that life had done unto her. She, whose will to survive seems to only grow stronger, in response to the tragedies life inflicts on her. A woman, whose life is shaped by the roughness of destiny and fate. Still, her softness is what shines through.

Soft smile when she says the spookiest thing. Soft gaze that she reserves mostly for Chopper, but you catch her sneaking a couple at you secretly too. Soft skin that you can’t help noticing, whenever she leans against you, head on your shoulder while she’s buried in yet another book. Soft touches that leave a burning and yearning on your skin whenever she brushes past you, or touches your hand.

It makes you want to love her softly. Tenderly, gently, kindly, lovingly, purely, compassionately.

——————————————

Loving her softly.

Bringing her a warm cup of tea before bed every night without fail. Lazy kisses by the deck as the breeze carries with it an air of serenity. Holding her hand under the dining table, rubbing comforting circles around her knuckles absentmindedly, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Loving her softly was the only way you knew how to.

She had asked you once if you were afraid of her, and what being with her entailed.

“The World Government, the organisations I betrayed and the mistakes I’d made. The whole weight of my existence. Are you certain you are fine with me?” She asked, slight desperation in her voice begging you to reconsider your choices. Her typically calm demeanor started to crack as she pushed you for an answer. This must mean a lot to her, you thought.

“It’s never been a problem for me.” You responded simply.

“Why?” She asked, unconvinced that you fully understood the gravity of the situation you were getting yourself into.

“You’re so easy to love.” You say with a shrug, “That alone makes everything else easy, too.”

She tilted her head away from you before you could catch a glimpse of her expression. You waited for a response, but her silence tells you that it was a moot point. You contemplated whether it would be a reassuring gesture to slip your hand into hers, but you decided against it. If she needs time, then you’ll gladly wait. An hour, a week, a month or a year, it doesn’t really matter. Wait you shall.

——————————————

Making love, softly, too.

Brushing your thumb against her cheek as your body coaxes pleased moans out of her lips. Delicate kisses, running your mouth along her curves as you paid attention to every inch of her beautiful skin. Fingers that trace up and down her back, tenderly tingling her senses, reminding her of your presence that has since taken over her life. Slow, steady rocking against her hips as her palm grips tightly around your wrists, as if begging you not to leave her after this was over. You take her hand, gently interlocking your fingers with hers - a silent promise that you wouldn’t leave in the morning.

The pinnacle of love is vulnerability. To bare your soul for another to see, shedding layers of clothes, shame, ego to present yourself in total unadulterated being. It’s scary because it transcends lust, into the dangerous realm of intimacy. It’s the same way she always insists on pulling you into a hot bath after the night’s activities. Burying her face in the crook of your neck, small splashes in the water as she attaches herself closer towards you. With her eyes closed, breathing steadily against your chest, she looked so at peace. It must mean a lot for a Devil’s Fruit user to be in a bath, completely unguarded around you. Reaching out gently to knead the knots in her shoulder, you feel a warm glow on your cheeks and you’re not sure if it’s from the skin-to-skin contact or the steam from the bath. She sighed, breath tickling your neck as she lets out a pleased groan.

“You always insist on taking a bath together after.” You remarked.

“I do.” She responded simply, slightest hint of a grin gracing her features.

“It’s intimate.” You pointed out.

She nodded, planting a tender kiss on your forehead.

The intimacy made you feel alive. Human, even - scared, confused, loved, anxious, grateful - all at the same time. You wonder if it’s the same way for her, but you never dared to speak your thoughts into existence. In case, just in case, she doesn’t feel it like you do.

There is nothing inherently remarkable about being naked or sleeping with someone else. After all, sex can happen between two strangers without even a thread of attachment.

This, though, is nothing ordinary.

You feel it in your gut. The butterflies in your stomach tell you so.

——————————————

With love, comes expectations. Love is ultimately a commitment and there are duties that one cannot run away from. In this case, blow drying her hair after a hot bath.

To be fair, she could probably have it managed herself with a simple flick of her wrists - summoning one arm to get the hairdryer, another to comb through her hair, another to get the towel - you get the gist. She insists you do it for her, and you pretend to complain, scoffing and telling her she’s lucky she’s cute enough to make demands from you. Secretly, it’s one of your favorite parts of the night.

Fingers running through her hair as you meticulously held the hairdryer a safe distance away from her scalp, careful not to accidentally burn her. She sits still and upright, patiently letting you work your magic on her. You lightly drag your fingernails against her scalp and the back of her neck. You feel her body jerk slightly, shiver running down her spine. You bit your tongue to stifle a chuckle, thinking about how cute it was that she’s so sensitive. The scent of her floral shampoo overwhelms the room. Lavender, you think.

It is the small moments like these that make you so painfully aware of how insignificant everything was.

The storms that rage beyond the Thousand Sunny, the seas teeming with unthinkable lifeforms, the skies that hold islands so vast. So tiny and unimportant are our lives in the grand scheme of things.

Still, in the limited time that you have to exist, there is no where else you’d rather be than here with her, hairdryer in your hand.

#nico robin #nico robin x reader #one piece x reader #nico robin x y/n #nico robin x you #one piece robin #one piece #x reader #talking shit

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stevesjockstrap · 2 months

Text

Crash & Burn

Rated M • modern era, no UD • read on ao3

Friends with benefits, pining, idiots to lovers feels

Eddie’s phone buzzed, and buzzed again. He looked down at it. 1:39am. Two messages from Steve.

Groaning, he flipped his phone over and peeled himself off his couch to pace back and forth across the room, hands raking through his hair. Why couldn’t he just block his number? It’d been weeks (maybe months?) since he’d heard from him.

He only reached out after some girl broke his heart. Again.

Eddie couldn’t keep-

His phone started buzzing more urgently, repeatedly. Picking it up, he saw Steve’s name and had to answer it.

When you feel all alone and the world has turned its back on you

Give me a moment please to tame your wild, wild heart

“Hey.”

“Hi Eds…”

Just two words made everything come flying back front and center into Eddie’s mind. The amazing sex, sure, but mostly the soft touches, staying up all night talking, the way Steve looked at him like-

He shook his head, clearing whatever that was from his thoughts.

“What’s up neighbor? Need a cup of sugar?” He winced as the words left his mouth. For once his double entendre not being intentional. Oh. That was the other thing. They lived in the same row of townhouses, Eddie getting to see whichever current conquest Steve was wooing come and go, or Steve himself walking hand in hand with the supermodel of the week.

Thankfully Steve snickered back at his dumb joke. “I don’t need any sugar, actually. But I wanted to see if you were as bored as I am. Wanna come have a beer?”

This was his play, usually. Get Eddie over for a casual hang out, watch a movie, drink a beer, maybe smoke a joint. Once they were both a lot looser, things ended up happening.

Eddie would have to hear about whichever girl it was who Steve was sure was ‘The One,’ who was clearly using him for his name and money and when they’d find out Steve Harrington actually had no contact with his rich parents and only a upper middle class salary, they usually didn’t last long.

But Eddie was also a sucker. “Sure, man. Give me a few.”

I know you feel like the walls are closing in on you

It’s hard to find relief and people can be so cold

When darkness is upon your door and you feel like you can’t take anymore

Let me be the one you call

After a few beers each and politely listening to the play by play of the breakup (Dana this time), Eddie eyed Steve as he crept slowly closer to him on the couch.

Maybe it would be fine this time. They could just blow off some steam. It’s not like he had any better offers.

He pretended to be very interested suddenly in whatever dumb sitcom Steve had thrown on for background noise, and a hand slid up his thigh. He bit into the side of his cheek and stayed still. The butterflies he got every time he was in this position came back full force.

“Steve, I-“ he shook his head, but then caught the look on his face, like a rejection right now would send him crumbling.

If you need to crash then crash and burn

You’re not alone

“C’mere,” he breathed instead.

They met in a slow kiss, less heated and desperate than usual. Eddie cupped his jaw tenderly, trying in equal measures to hold back and show him some of the emotion he’d bottled up for so long.

Steve gasped an “Ed-“ into his mouth and shoved closer to him. They wrapped their arms around each other and he forgot he wasn’t supposed to be doing this.

When hopes and dreams are far away

And you feel like you can’t face the day

Let me be the one you call

The first slow thrust into Steve’s body was heart stopping. He didn’t think it had ever been like this, slow and gentle, instead of the frenzy he usually felt.

But that wasn’t altogether the truth, as he sucked in a breath, he realized while they usually came together in a rush, he’d usually find himself slowing it down. Making it more tender and caring.

Steve pulled him down for a soft kiss and he sunk into it with a small sound. Oh no. He pulled back. They could do slow passionate sex or they could have soft tender kisses but he couldn’t do both. He couldn’t take it. Especially not the eventual ghosting once Steve found a new girl to fall for.

But Steve was looking up at him now. Panting, cheeks flushed. Staring wide eyed up at him almost reverently. Eddie got stuck in his deep brown eyes for a long moment, transfixed until they both gasped on a particularly good thrust and Eddie realized what was happening.

He loved him. Was soul crushingly in love with a guy who only used him after he was broken up with.

Unable to meet his gaze, he mouthed along his neck and shoulder instead, allowing himself to hide his face, committing the little sighs and punched out sounds to memory.

This would have to be the last time.

When you feel all alone and a loyal friend is hard to find

You’re caught in a one-way street with the monsters in your head

When hope and dreams are far away

And you feel like you can’t face the day

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he jumped. Peering at it, he ignored the new text and looked back at Gareth.

“Why are you so jumpy, bro?”

Shaking his head, he tried to return the conversation back to the gigs they had lined up, but Gareth could always see right through him.

“Uh uh, whose texts are you avoiding? That’s not like you. Spill.”

“Gare, I promise, it’s nothing,” he raked his hands through his hair and Gareth raised an eyebrow at him. Well fuck, now he’d done his tell, hadn’t he? Sighing, he decided on, “It’s just something that needs to fizzle out on its own. A mistake that I keep making. I should block him.”

“Ahh,” Gareth nodded. “Hot neighbor guy.”

His jaw dropped. “Wha- how? I mean, shit.” He leaned down and thunked his forehead on the table. “How do you know he’s hot?”

Giggling, Gareth patted his shoulder. “The mistakes that we can’t block- they’re always hot. So what happened? Usually you’re off to the races when he texts.”

Sitting back up, he sighed. “I can’t keep doing this. I lo- I care too much about him and he only wants to hook up after some girl fucks him over. It’s killing me.”

Gareth hummed at him, nodding. “Caught feelings for the booty call. That’s a lot, dude. Did you tell him?”

“Are you kidding? No way! Zero chance that he’d actually stop his womanizing ways to have something real with me. He just likes getting fu-“

Gareth held up a hand. “I don’t need the details, man.”

Laughing, Eddie shook his head again. “Maybe if I just don’t answer, he’ll find some girl who wants to peg him and go run off with her.”

“There’s always a chance.”

‘Cause there has always been heartache and pain

And when it’s over you’ll breathe again

You’ll breathe again

Groaning, Eddie read through the last text Steve had sent again.

Hi. I know you’re avoiding me and I just wanted to know why. Did I do something wrong? I’m home all night if you want to talk.

He knew he was being an asshole by ignoring him. He knew exactly how shitty it felt to be ghosted after their encounters and now he was doing the same thing.

Knocking on his door felt like approaching the executioner. Would he get punched in the face? Kicked in the balls? Would he need to move? He really liked his place.

“Oh hey, he is alive after all,” Steve said sardonically as he pulled the door open.

“It appears so. Can I come in?”

Steve seemed weary, but nodded and turned to walk into the kitchen, propping himself at a stool at the bar. Eddie stood on the other side of the counter from him.

“I’m sorry,” he huffed. It didn’t seem like enough, but he made himself relax his shoulders and continue. He looked down at the swirls in the countertop as he talked. “I can’t do this anymore. I- um, I really like you, Steve. And this only calling me when you get your heart broken is … it’s too much for me.”

After a beat, he chanced a look up at Steve’s face and winced. He looked like he’d gotten ice water thrown in his lap.

“I know I should’ve told you sooner, but I just worked it out myself very recently. I thought I could do the casual hookups but my heart can’t take it anymore. Because I know you don’t feel the same and-“

“Of course I don’t feel the same,” Steve growled out, his face now completely closed off and hard.

Eddie clenched his jaw and gave a stiff nod.

“I’m not- I don’t swing that way, man.”

Instead of arguing, he just nodded again and walked towards the door. Somehow that’d been worse than he’d expected. He almost wished he would’ve received an actual punch instead.

When you feel all alone and the world has turned its back on you

Give me a moment please to tame your wild wild heart

A few days later he pointedly turned away when he saw Steve walking hand in hand with another blonde woman. Good for him. Maybe he’d settle down and find a different neighbor to fuck him through his denial.

He finally blocked his number and his Instagram. Gareth took him out for depressed drinks and darts. He started parking around the side of his townhouse and coming in the back door when he couldn’t stop himself from checking for strange cars on the other end of the lot.

Maybe he would need to move.

If you need to fall apart (you’re not alone) I can mend a broken heart

And if you need to crash then crash and burn (you’re never alone)

You’re not alone

A pounding woke him and he pushed away from the warm body next to him to look at the time. 2:11am. What the fuck?

Throwing pants on, he went downstairs and flicked a light on.

Someone was standing on his porch.

Throwing the door open, he immediately realized it was pouring down rain, Steve was at his door, and he should’ve put a shirt on.

“Hi.” Steve started. His eyes widened as he took in Eddie’s appearance, rumpled hair and hickeys going down his neck and chest.

He’d taken home the pretty boy in the bomber jacket from the bar. Sue him. And-

“Who is it, babe?”

Steve’s eyes widened further and his face paled. Mouth opening and closing before his face closed off again and he turned away. “Never mind.”

Without thinking, he followed him, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Steve! Wait!”

Stupidly, he reached out for him and grabbed his arm to pull him around.

Steve yanked his arm back with a huff. “Save it. I see you’ve moved on quickly.”

“Me?” He sputtered, throwing his hands up. “I’ve moved on quickly? How many girls have you fucked this month? This week?”

Starting to turn away again, he grumbled, “Just go back to your-“

Eddie was suddenly so deeply tired and he couldn’t fight anymore. “You came over here in the rain to knock on my door at two AM, man. Talk to me. Please.”

That knocked the fight out of Steve, and he looked like himself again. He sighed, pushing his wet floppy hair out of his face. It made him look even more pitiful, like a little wet puppy.

“I know. I’ve been a dick.” Steve swiped across his face and Eddie’s heart clenched. “It dawned on me. Tonight. That our… arrangement before…”

Thunder boomed and they both jumped. Eddie tried to hide his satisfaction as Steve edged closer to him.

“Just, I realized I looked forward to seeing you, sometimes a lot more than the girl I was telling you about. I was stupid. I’m so sorry, Eds. These last few weeks I’ve been a mess. I think I fell in love with you a long time ago, too. And-“

Eddie cupped his face and stepped in closer, staring into his eyes. “Say it again?”

Giving him the tiniest smile, he repeated, “I’m in love with you, Eddie. I’m so sorry I said those things that day.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering, Steve closed the small distance between them. Eddie kept him there with a handful of soaking wet tshirt.

This kiss was nothing like their kisses before. Eddie could pour all of his love and affection into it now, not having to hold anything back. Even from himself.

“Wow,” Steve breathed, lips still moving against his.

Eddie pressed a few more kisses against his lip before pulling back.

“Do you wanna hear a secret?” Eddie asked, suddenly serious.

Steve nodded, confused.

“I didn’t move on. I picked that guy up at the bar last night because he reminded me of you.”

A wide grin spread across Steve’s face. “Oh really?”

Let me be the one you call

If you jump, I’ll break your fall

Lift you up and fly away with you into the night

Ali @eddiethehunted made me have a Savage Garden nostalgic moment (months ago, sorry) and ofc I had steddie feels 🖤

#steddie #Steve x Eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #mine #angst #angst with a happy ending

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mrtwizz · 1 year

Text

memories - bella ramsey

Pairing: Bella Ramsey x fem reader

Summary- Bella breaks up with you and you stay friends, what happens when they come crawling back to you after realizing they still love you?

Warnings: angst, drinking to ignore problems, not learning from mistakes, possibly accidentally toxic!Bella? Sorry yall

Word Count: 1.3k

they/them pronouns used for Bella :)

Note- i wrote this instead of my research paper teehee

bella ramsey masterlist

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Your blood ran cold, and it felt as though they had grabbed your heart from its rightful place in your chest, squeezed it until it was empty, and then handed it back to you.

The two of you were standing in your shared apartment when they told you they wanted to break up. Tears filled Bella’s eyes as they explained that they needed to work on their mental health. You stared past them and at the wall behind them as they spoke, knowing if you looked at them you would fall to the ground hysterically sobbing, “Okay.”

The tears finally escaped, and you were quick to wipe them away with your sleeve, “I’m going to grab a few things, and go to Jamie’s. I’ll be back sometime to get the rest of my stuff.”

You gave them a sad smile before heading to the bedroom that the two of you had shared for over a year now. You locked the door behind you before sitting against it, hysterically sobbing. Bella swears their heart breaks at the sounds of your sobs, wanting nothing more than to rush to your side and comfort you. But they know they can’t, and that they’re the reason for your tears.

Bella was sitting on the couch when you walked out of the bedroom twenty minutes later, eyes and face puffy from crying. You would laugh to Jamie later about how dramatic the mascara running down your cheeks was, but it only broke Bella’s heart more. This was their fault.

“I’ll text you before I come to grab my things.” You said, looking at the ground.

At first it was hard for you to talk to Bella, and you had to distance yourself. It didn’t make you stop loving them, but it made it easier for you to push the feelings down. You came to the conclusion that you would probably love them until you died, but at some point the two of you began talking like normal again.

It had been a few weeks before you saw them in person again, they came to the apartment that you shared with Jamie. They looked slightly disheveled and like they hadn’t slept in days.

“Hey Bells, what’s up?”

“I just want to talk.” They start, moving further inside.

“Okay, then let's talk.” You move to the kitchen to grab a cup of water, offering them one as well.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a few weeks now, and I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for what I did, that was really shitty of me. I should have just talked to you, and worked things out with you instead of shutting you out and hurting you the way I did. And I understand completely if you can never forgive me, but I just wanted to get it off my chest.” Tears form in Bella’s eyes and they wipe them away before they can fall.

“Bella, it’s okay. I understand, we all make stupid decisions. But it’s okay, really. No hard feelings.” You lie through your teeth, it was not all okay. You weren’t mad at them, truly you weren’t. But you were trying to heal and now all of those wounds have burst back open.

“Are you sure?” They weren’t fully sure that they believed you, but they wanted to so bad that they let the words feel like the whole truth.

You give them your best fake smile, “Of course Bells, I could never stay mad at you.”

But that had been nearly two months ago, and the wounds wouldn’t heal, they were always around you. Hugging you, holding your hands, putting an arm around you on the couch and pulling you closer.

You let yourself bask in those moments, and then you would cry yourself to sleep that night. You wanted to tell Bella to fuck off, and to stop playing with your emotions like that.

You had been sitting on the couch in the apartment you used to share with Bella, they were having a small gathering with friends. And to no surprise, Bella was sitting right next to you, their arm around your shoulders as they laughed with the group of friends.

You blamed your next actions on the fact that you had been drinking, maybe more than you should have, but you were trying to ignore the ache in your chest. It still felt as though Bella held your heart in their beautiful hands and crushed it whenever they felt like it.

The emotions were suffocating, and you were drowning in your own thoughts. And the alcohol was enough to break the dam, so you lashed out.

“Why do you do this?” You suddenly ask, turning to Bella who had pulled you even closer.

“Do what?” They asked, confused by your question.

You shoved yourself off of them, “This! You’re so touchy feely, you text me at three in the morning about all of your thoughts. You invite me out to dinner only for it to just be the two of us, you remember everything I’ve ever told you.”

You can feel your face heat up and tears fill your eyes, but choose to ignore them, “You look at me with those beautiful brown eyes and say stupid shit you don’t mean like ‘I love you’. No Bella, you don’t fucking love me. You broke up with me, remember? You told me that you couldn’t handle a relationship right now, but what the fuck is going on here? Because everyone, including me, is confused about what is going on between the two of us. Do you just want all of the conveniences of a relationship without the label? The commitment? Well fuck that Bella, and fuck you too.”

“I’m sick of the way you have ruined my life, and I’m even more sick of the way I want you more than anything in this whole world. I hate you, and I hate the way I love you.” You finish your rant, unaware if any of it was coherent.

All you know is that Bella was too shocked at your outburst to respond.

“Jamie, can we leave please?” You ask, getting up from the couch.

You hadn’t spoken to Bella in almost a week, not since your outburst. They had texted you, and left a few voice mails. At first they were confused, then they were angry at you for acting that way. But finally they were heartbroken, it had taken you yelling at them for it to get into their thick skull that they had been awful to you, but they still wanted you.

You on the other hand were thinking about how fucking embarassed you were, you still coulndt’ believe the way you acted. You had screamed at them, and definitely ruined the little relationship you had left.

You were broken from your thoughts when you heard someone knocking on your door, for a moment you wondered if it was Jamie but she said she wasn’t going to be back until the morning. Cautiously you made your way to the front door, looking out the peephole, only to see Bella standing there, soaked in water from the rain. You quickly unlocked and opened the door.

“I’m so sorry for the way I screamed at you-” You had started before they cut you off by holding your face with their hands cold from the rain.

“No, Y/n I’m sorry. I have fucked you over more than once now, I apologised and I just expected you to just forgive everything. I just assumed that it was okay, and it could go back to the way it was. But I was wrong, but you were wrong too.” Their words took you by surprise.

“Huh?”

“I do love you, Y/n. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone else. And I want you, I want you in every sense of the word. Please, give me another chance. I’ll right all of my wrongs. I promise you. I love you, and can’t lose you again.” Bella says, resting their forehead against yours.

“Okay, but I’m serious Bella. I will kick you to the curb, maybe literally.” You joke and they laugh before placing a soft kiss on your lips.

Maybe everything will be okay after all, and they won’t have to just be a memory.

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thank you for reading lovelies, feedback is greatly appreciated <3

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cloveroctobers · 9 months

Text

LUCA — summer prompts 🍋

A/N: taking a shot writing for Mr. Luca! Love when the bear gives us crumbs and I’m able to create/build more off what was given. Let’s give it up for Mr. Eyebrow king being in lurve 💛 also I promise this is the last time I’ll be using a song from this album but the entire album fits for the bear in my humble opinion, I’m not going to hold you!

WARNINGS: still trying to get a feel for Luca’s character so I hope I wasn’t too far off for him! Feels! A supportive partner! Mentions of mental health & dark thoughts that lead to dark actions—but not overly described but definitely hinted!

Added summer prompts from here & I’m using these two: “hey, you said to keep hydrated! i’m pretty sure there’s some water in this cocktail.” + “i’m not happy you’re sunburnt, but i am enjoying getting to be the one helping you put aloe vera on.”

*GIF BELONGS TO: @goodsirs

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Being back in Copenhagen was a whirlwind of emotions but Peyton picked the very best one.

To tell you the truth, Peyton’s been away for about three months, and decided to take the trip back but not alone.

She’s the one leading the way, natural sway in her hips even beneath her cream shacket as she’s all smiles to the familiar workers who seem to be moving at ease. It’s a Sunday, a little after twelve and the restaurant isn’t as busy yet. In her mind, it’s the perfect time to show up, unannounced, although Sydney and Marcus were definitely questioning it.

Carmy doesn’t say much, deciding to take in the architecture of the dark painted walls and the industrial decor instead. He still follows behind as Peyton pushes the back doors open, holding it in place as she waves the three to where the real show is located.

The kitchen is louder and lively compared to the main floor: which is quiet with small chatter, cedar wood infused air, and the gentle splashing from the large stone water fountain, that’s tucked in the back of the main dining floor.

There’s at least six chefs moving around in the kitchen, handling different tasks and talking to each other in calm tones that aren’t as similar back in Chicago. It’s a whole different atmosphere, Carmy thinks and he knows his thoughts are matched as his round eyes peek over at Sydney’s while Marcus sends all split-tooth grins.

It doesn’t take long for Peyton’s eyes to find Luca’s frame, who has his back turned to the four, large hands tending to the dough on the counter that he’s kneading.

“Is that the guy?” Sydney asks, only hearing a few stories from Carmy and occasionally Marcus.

Carmy nods, “yeah, yeah. That’s Luca.”

Peyton continues holding the door for the chefs who start to leave the area, greeting Peyton on their way before she lets the door gently flap behind them after they take their exit. The woman with the hair full of volume takes a stand in between Marcus and Sydney.

“Welcome and welcome back to Brimstone’s Gate.” Peyton introduced the trio who further took in the environment of the kitchen.

Marcus took a deep inhale, “it’s nice to be back…after everything you know?”

A solemn mood is felt after his words.

“I absolutely get that,” Peyton comments as she rests a hand on his shoulder, “just consider this your second home. A place of comfort and to relax your mind.”

Marcus gives a small smile, “thanks, Peyton.”

“Of course.” Peyton moves to face the three again, smile on her glossed lips as she clasps her hands together while she begins walking backwards, “so brimstone’s gate is one of the popular restaurants here in Copenhagen just like the lovely owner and manager of this place that you just met, Ragmus previously said. It’s mainly known for its intricate desserts and quaint and savory cuisine.”

“You’re really selling it, Peyton.” Sydney tells with two thumbs up.

Peyton winks as she points out at the twenty-something year old, “thanks girl, it’s what I do.”

Peyton’s a successful Editorial Food Photographer and it became the best decision she’s made for her career.

“Should we be calling you presenter chef instead?” Carmy teases, “we could have used some of those skills at the bear.”

Peyton laughs as she rolls her thumb over her fingers, “where the money resides, honey.”

“Ah, and here I thought we were friends.” Carmy’s got a crooked smile playing on his lips while Peyton playfully scoffs.

They both know if Peyton was in Chicago on better terms, Peyton would definitely shoot some photos if that’s what Carmy really needed for The Bear. She met Carmy years ago, attending the same restaurant alongside Luca, until she decided creating food wasn’t her passion like her well-known food critic mother wanted it to be. Instead she liked seeing the visuals and telling hundreds of those stories through film.

“That’s a likely story,” she responds as she purposely bumps into Luca who hadn’t noticed they were here, “oh my apologies! Didn’t see you there, Chef.”

Both Marcus and Sydney both squinted and furrowed their brows at each other while Carmy folded his arms, waiting to see how this would play out.

Luca exhales, assuming it to be one of the new clumsy younger chef’s that just started here two weeks ago. He pulls some of the wet dough that sticks to his finger tips and barely glances upwards, a routine of words spewing from his lips, “t’alright chef, let’s just remind ourselves the notices we give out to one another when we cross around, yeah?”

“Sure thing,” Peyton says, “Mind telling us what you’re preparing?”

His arched brows immediately furrow before he focuses in on who exactly is speaking to him. There’s surprise written right on his face, brows raising while Peyton is still full of soft smiles that she sends his way. He’s grabbing a rag then, struggling to break his eyes away to see the other three faces.

“Hey man,” Marcus starts which makes a slow grin appear on Luca’s own face.

“Good to see you again, Chef.”

Luca’s eyes trail over the small group, his eyes then settling on Carmy’s who still looks the same as he leans from one foot to the other but he’s full of more tattoos. Which almost makes Luca want to glance down at his own filled arms but he decides against it. He still liked his own artwork better.

“Carmen Berzatto.”

“Luca Hodgson.”

The three are watching the pair as if this is a pickle ball match. Sydney’s holding a breath as Luca makes his way over to Carmy, towering over him and face not revealing any emotion while Marcus is sending glances to Peyton who is behind analyzing Luca’s dish.

Luca says, “Are you still a know it all prick?”

Marcus was not expecting this since it was Carmy who reached out to Luca in the first place for his experience here months ago. He figured they were on good terms if Carmy wanted Marcus to learn from Luca. What changed?

“Well that uh depends, you still a show off, jackass?” Carmy met Luca’s eyes, not backing down in the slightest.

They hold each other’s stares before Luca breaks off into a laugh, followed by Carmy as they briefly embrace, hands clapping each other on the back in greeting.

“Oh, okay then.” Sydney mutters as she gazed over at Marcus who is also confused with a shrug of his shoulders.

Carmy then does the honors of introducing Sydney and Luca, who immediately shakes his hand, despite the sticky and warm residue from the dough.

“Pleasure to meet you, Chef Sydney. You probably can’t say the same now with dough on your hand, I suppose. I’ll grab you a wet nap.” Luca tells as he moves around to grab the said item.

He leans against the opposite counter where he was previously working, now fully wiping his own hands, glancing over at Peyton who’s all up in his dish as he voices, “I wasn’t aware any of you were coming. A heads up would have been cool.”

“So you’re not a fan of surprises, noted.” Marcus says while Luca dips his head about in a sorta motion.

Carmy scratched at his brow then, “We were under the impression that Peyton had it all sorted.”

Luca’s eyes are back on Peyton who’s listening but doesn’t provide anything to the conversation, it’s not like Luca could do anything about it now since they were all here.

“Don’t touch the remonce.”

“It’s not remonce yet,” Peyton looks over her shoulder at Luca who rolls his eyes.

Luca then says, “nice of you to let me know you were bringing guests.”

“They’re not guests, they’re practically family.” Peyton fans her hand about while Luca just lets out a sigh.

Carmy cuts in, “we’re not trying to disrupt the flow you have goin’ on here by any means.”

Luca snorts, “uh huh. It’s slow right now, so you lot are lucky I don’t mind.”

Sydney awkwardly claps her hands together, “great! We’re also really curious to what you’re working on…here at work.”

“Smooth, Syd. Real smooth.” Marcus teases while Sydney tightens her eyes sarcastically.

Luca looks back at his dish where Peyton is ready to show it off, posing in front of it like they were on jeopardy. The man cant help but to shake his head at her antics but announces, “I’m making frøsnapper.”

“It’s a traditional dish here,” Peyton mentions, “frø is a danish word for seed and frog.”

Sydney jokes, “Is it also going to leap off the tray after you take it out of the oven?”

Luca blinks but says with a straight face, “maybe if I throw in a few drops of green food coloring.”

It took a few seconds for Sydney to get the joke back, breathing out some slow laughter, while Marcus shook his head at her and Carmy watched as Luca briefly touched Peyton’s hips to make more space for him to talk about the pastry.

“Yes so, frøsnapper. Also known as for the English, seed snapper or frog snapper. It’s got remonce filling and once it’s done baking, it’s sweet and savory while the texture falls between flaky and delicate.”

“Like a croissant.” Marcus pointed out.

Luca shook his head, “Not quite, Marcus. This is Denmark.”

Marcus paused as he picked up on Luca’s mannerisms, “…fucker.”

Which makes Luca grin again.

“How long is Prep time?” Carmy asks as he makes the first move to get closer, peering at all the ingredients.

“About 12 hours or so.”

Carmy let’s out a low-whistle, “Shit.”

“Shit’s right mate and I started yesterday. It’s a excellent breakfast or pick me up for the afternoon, which is why I planned for it to be done today.” Luca explained.

Peyton speaks up, “and it will be…how long for the oven?”

“Fifteen minutes.” Luca automatically answers as he looks at the clock on the wall behind them all.

“See…Patience.”

“Every second.” Luca moves his winter deep ocean eyes to her ink colored ones, the two holding each other’s stare before he turns back to the rest.

“Any of you have allergic reactions to sesame or poppy seeds?” He asks, watching their facial expressions.

Carmy shrugs while both Marcus and Sydney shake their heads, ‘no.’

“Great, grab some aprons by the door there while I roll out the dough.”

“Oh, we’re doing work too on this vacation. Okay, yeah! I’m down.” Sydney rubs her hands together in excitement as she elbows Carmy lightly, who twists a smile onto his own lips.

Marcus is the first to move while Sydney follows. Carmy stays behind with Luca and Peyton as he picks up on the end of their hushed conversation:

“…I’ll be much better when we have dinner?”

“Cant. Not sure how long I’ll be here tonight, we have a few summer birthday gatherings here later. What about breakfast? It’ll be my day off.”

“Early meeting for me, I’ll be at the office.

“Lunch then?”

“…That works.”

“Finally.” Luca mutters as he takes his time but adds just enough pressure to roll out the dough, which makes Peyton let out a small laugh.

Sydney comes back, handing Carmen a apron who was mostly in a trance watching the dough get flattened that he didn’t bother to interrupt the conversation between old friends. He silently thanks Sydney before securing it around his waist.

Peyton leaves room for Marcus and Sydney to take her spot on the left of Luca, “and this is where I leave you three in good hands.”

“Wait…you’re not gonna get in on this?” Sydney is surprised while a smile is still planted on Peyton’s lips.

She motions to her outfit, “Looking this good? Not today, girl.”

Sydney eyes Peyton’s outfit which consisted of her brown voluminous hair pulled back into a claw clip, a cream opened corduroy shacket and a orange and white floral mini dress, “…fair point. I’m sure if you really wanted to, you could button that thing up and throw a apron on. Doesn’t seem like something you’d want to miss.”

“Your concern is touching, sis. But I actually can’t wait to get home and I’m sure Luca will save me one to try.” Peyton says as Luca is back in his zone now, trimming the edges of the dough and slides off the ingredients of the remonce to Marcus to mix together by hand.

Luca is listening as he replies, “yeah I will, see you at home.”

“See you at home.” Peyton repeats before winking at Sydney who is gapping, Marcus widens his eyes a bit, and Carmy is covering his snickers with a balled up fist.

Sydney turns back to the dish after Peyton leaves and mumbles, “so yeah, next time I’ll shut the fuck up.”

Which earns a laugh from both Luca and Carmy.

“You could have told us, Carmy!” Sydney whisper yells at Carmy who shrugs his shoulders.

Marcus chuckles, “Hey don’t feel bad, Luca didn’t tell me shit either the last time I was here and I’m kinda feeling a way about it now.”

Luca instructs Marcus to spread half of the remonce on one side of the dough then says, “I didn’t think we needed to share love stories just yet, Chef. The love was already there in the pastries.”

“Booo, how corny of you. Where’s the tomatoes?” Marcus snorts which Luca can’t help but to chuckle back.

Luca jokes after he nods his head in approval at the amount of remonce, “Looks like all of us were left out of something, huh?”

“If you don’t mind me asking…how long…?” Sydney starts as Luca takes over after Marcus folded the dough again, slicing it into twelve rectangles before he shows Sydney what to do next.

“What? How long have we been in love and decided to get engaged?”

“This fucking guy, how did you deal with him?” Marcus laughs, asking Carmy.

Carmy says, “we handled our beef outside.”

“What?!” Sydney squawks, “there’s no way you two fought.”

Luca explains, “it happened only once not far from the restaurant we worked at. And I don’t really classify that as much of a fight.”

“A punch to the eye wasn’t good enough for you?” Carmy’s eyes are in slits at this.

Marcus comments, “Damn.”

Luca defends, “A sucker punch isn’t fair. But I got you back, we scrambled a bit and then moved passed it the next day, bruises, cuts and all.”

Marcus concludes, “Sometimes that’s just how it works.”

“It smells like too much testosterone in here for me.” Sydney cuts in.

“Not sugar?” Luca lightly questions as he starts with the egg wash before handing another brush over to Sydney to help finish the rest.

Sydney scowls, “Yeah dude, I don’t know if I like you.”

“Join the club,” Luca winks over at Carmy who rolls his eyes with a small smile.

“Are you serious?” Luca wants to know just what his soon to be wife thought she was doing.

He met up with her, right on time, finding her sitting on the stone wall with what looked like a bright Orange cocktail in a plastic cup decorated with a little umbrella and fruit jammed along the straw.

They’re at the beach, it’s mid seventies, and there’s not many people on the walkway that rests along the sand. Mostly everyone else is taking advantage of the comfortable warmth on the sand. Luca and Peyton weren’t really beach people, preferring a lake and cabin any day but it was Peyton who suggested they meet out here since it was closer to her job.

It was far from their detached home but Luca didn’t mind the drive. He loved sight seeing when he made the time for it and usually when he had the time off, which was rare, he tried to get out there and see the world since there was so much to offer. He also couldn’t wait to be in Peyton’s face again; he wouldn’t count spooning her last night either, considering his face was covered with her bonnet.

Which he missed.

Conversations were meant to be had so that they could continue on with their journey together. She had to step away from their relationship for a few months and Luca was nothing more than understanding…although it stung a bit. He even offered to pick up and go to Chicago with her but Peyton told him life couldn’t be put on pause for her low moments, yet she was appreciative.

She dressed in jeans today as she hops off the wall, a smile in her brown eyes as she holds out her arms innocently, “hey, you said to keep hydrated! i’m pretty sure there’s some water in this cocktail.”

She’s mentioning the text message Luca sent to her a few hours ago, after she announced a headache was coming on after her meeting with her pushy manager. He was just checking in as he did a bit of laundry around the house but that didn’t stop his concern at all.

“Give me that,” Luca plucks the drink from her fingertips, fast as he sniffs at it before placing his own lips right on the straw, “hmm and here I was expecting vodka.”

“It’s not that kind of party, baby.” Peyton peers up at him as she locks her arms around his waist.

One hand comes up to palm her cheek, leaving Luca to take his time trailing his eyes all over her beautiful features, “So good to have you back.”

“Kiss me then.”

Luca snorts, “is this you asking for my consent?”

“Sure, uh huh.” She’s almost swooning in his eyes and Luca smirks as he leans closer to her lips.

“Eh, maybe later.”

“You asshole!” Peyton pushes at Luca’s back after he circled around her.

He’s laughing as he tosses a tatted arm over her shoulders, liking the feel of her being tucked right underneath his arm. She doesn’t miss how he’s holding onto her drink now, but she doesn’t mind it as long as she gets to keep him close.

They’re enjoying each other’s company again, almost as if the last three months didn’t happen but they both know it did.

“So…tell it to me straight. You’re back here with me now and I was left in the dark as soon as you were checked in.”

“I wanted to call rather than write you but I never had the words.” Peyton quietly says, “And I know you wouldn’t have minded if I just said a simple hello and we breathed on the phone for twenty minutes or whatever. I just didn’t want to make it worse for you.”

Luca hums, “Guess I can appreciate you taking my feelings into account but I can’t say I wouldn’t have rather talk to you than your mum, no disrespect.”

“Yes I know, she’s a lot.”

“Most families are.”

Peyton lays her head against Luca’s shoulder as they continue walking along the path, “Well you’re my family too and I’m sorry for handing over nothing but white noise to you while I was trying to get a better hold on this.”

It was extremely hard not knowing where exactly Peyton was and dealing with a mother like her’s.

“I don’t want you to apologize for doing what you thought was best for your mental health.”

“And I don’t want you to feel like I was shutting you out…you’re the last person I’d want to ever to do that to. I love you too much, to the point where I realized that I’d always want tomorrow’s with you.”

Luca felt his heart swell at that. It was always a good feeling to know that someone loves you just as much as you loved them. Luca was always known for his banter especially back when he worked at Noma years ago with both Carmy and Peyton but it seemed like Peyton’s energy meshed well with his.

He instantly thought Peyton was attractive and didn’t enjoy how she got on with Carmy equally at the start. Her approach to cooking wasn’t as serious as it was for him and Carmy but she was curious to learning. That’s something that was brought into their soon romantic relationship, they were open to go with the flow and it led them right to Luca putting a ring on it.

Peyton never had regrets about saying yes. She knew what she wanted with Luca and although the black parts of her brain gave her heavy blues, her heart still told her all that she needed to know.

Luca was patient, tender and he was still her man. They wanted forever and had to find balance even when it became shaky at times. They wanted to stick it out, be together and they lost touch once before when Peyton was the first to leave Denmark but somehow they always found their way back.

“I think that counts for a kiss, don’t you?” Luca whispers, stopping right in their path as he stares down at the dark umber skinned beauty.

Peyton almost pounces on her toes, “thank you! As if we haven’t deprived each other enough.”

“Gosh, so needy.” Luca teases, curling a finger underneath her chin to tilt her ready lips to meet his.

They both exhale as their lips touch after being away for quite some time. Her hand is resting against his clothed ribcage and their lips move together in sync as if there isn’t any limit to time. It’s when his tongue traces the outline of her full bottom lip that she pulls away, fanning herself.

“This man is trying to get me to buss it open in public on the beach, Chile. Relax yourself Hodgson, before we catch a charge.”

Luca’s nose crinkles at this as he chuckles, “fine…save it for the indoors, yeah?”

“Maybe even in the backyard?”

Luca raises his arched brows, actually considering it, “Nah, I don’t want to hear you yelling at me for messing up your edges in the grass. Mind you, that you’re probably allergic to.”

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s messed up Peyton’s edges.

However Peyton always appreciated the concern.

“What about the garden room on the side of the flat?” Luca soon suggested, leaving Peyton to also think about this before she eyed Luca up and down.

It must have still been empty since she left, that area of the home completely slipped her mind when she settled back in, even after leaving Brimstone’s gate yesterday afternoon.

“I think you forget how big you are sometimes.”

A smirk appeared on Luca’s lips then and before he could even open his mouth, Peyton was slapping her hand right over his lips.

“Don’t finish that sentence, there’s kids around.” Peyton warned.

Luca frowned as he muffled, “you started it!”

Peyton smiles at a father who is holding the bars of a tricycle of his toddler, leading them down the path, excusing them as they make their way by. Once they’re out of ear shot, Peyton lowers her hand from Luca’s lips until he pulls the sun glasses from her combed out pin-curled hair to place over his own eyes.

“You’re very handsy today.”

Luca’s arm drapes back over Peyton’s shoulder, pulling her into his side, then he presses a kiss to her temple, “I don’t see you complaining.”

“You’re right.” She pulls her cocktail back to take a sip, “why would I ever?”

“Exactly,” Luca speaks, “…going forward, whatever you need from me, don’t be afraid to let me know please, Mrs. Hodgson.”

Peyton places a kiss to Luca’s pink neck, “thank you baby.”

“Don’t start singing that pasta and lobster song please,” Luca groans after picking up on her tone.

Peyton sends him a look of innocence, “what do you mean? Are we not having that back at the house when the three bears come over?”

“What’d do you mean?”

“There’s no way we’re not inviting Carmy, Marcus, and Sydney over for dinner.”

Luca shrugs, “I didn’t know they were comin’ ‘round anyways.”

“Luca!”

“What? What if I wanted you all to myself first?”

“And you will, they’ll only be here for a week.”

“…A week too long.” Luca mutters making Peyton laugh as she shakes her head, shoving his shoulder.

“Stop it, Luca Lamar Hodgson.”

“No.” Luca chuckles as he points at the beaming woman, “Now you know that is not my middle name, at all.”

What do you have against Lamar’s Luca?

“I’ve talked to Lulu on my way here.”

Luca feels his eye twitch at the mention of his gossiping little sister, Luella. He of course loved her dearly but she could be a brat sometimes and when he misses her call, Peyton was next in line for her dramatics.

“The elevator doesn’t always go upstairs with that one. Especially with whatever she’s gone and said to you.”

“You are on a roll today,” Peyton laughed with her head thrown back, “and you’re not about to do my good sis like that either.”

“She’s my sister first and I know she didn’t say my middle name was that.”

“You don’t know our conversations.”

“Thank heavens for that.”

Peyton paused as she untangled herself from Luca who lifted up her shades to peer at her in question. She held her arms out as she says, “there’s space and opportunity if you wanna fight.”

Luca scans Peyton up and down, taking his time as he did and scoffs, “You don’t scare me, babe. I’ll have you over my shoulder like flour in seconds.”

Peyton cracks her neck and motions her hand, “come on then. Remind me, which one of us was the athlete here?”

Yeah Peyton was deeply invested in tennis once upon a time and originally that’s what Luca thought she wanted to make a profession. She still participated down at the court during the weekends and man was she fast along with those long arms that provided powerful swings. Luca couldn’t see her on the court when it came to tennis, he almost pulled a damn hamstring but he wouldn’t tell any of his mates that.

As for football and cycling…that was a different story.

“That was then and what year are we in now?” He tapped his apple-watch.

Peyton cupped her ear, “Do I hear shade?”

Luca looks around at the sky, “doesn’t appear to be partly cloudy at all. It’s actually very sunny.”

Peyton let out a whole karate sound and tried to strike one, which was humorous but Luca was swift as he easily gripped her thighs and lugged her right up onto his shoulder, holding her in place.

“I told you.” Luca said after awhile, causally walking down the path while Peyton attempted to wiggle around, “let me know when you’re done. I’m just enjoying the view.”

Peyton huffed, “now what if you made me drop my cocktail?”

“I’ve got actual water back in the car, love.”

Peyton mocked Luca who laughed and patted her backside, carrying on in Copenhagen’s sun.

Up in their bedroom, Peyton is lounging on the bed, phone raised up in the air browsing food TikTok’s until she hears Luca letting out a string of curses that sound heavy in his accent from their en suite bathroom.

“Luca, you good?” Peyton calls out to the man, breaking her eyes away from her screen.

“Y-Yup!”

That didn’t sound convincing at all.

So Peyton’s on her feet now, phone tossed to the side of her as she enters the bathroom. She gets a nice view of reddened skin that’s leading from Luca’s neck and down the upper part of his back.

“Ouch.” Peyton remarks, “I did not notice this earlier. I would have sprayed your ass down with my own sunscreen.”

Luca pinched at his skin and flinches a bit, “summer’s aren’t nearly as hot here. I don’t understand why I look like bloody salmon.”

Peyton covers her giggle, knowing why as she stands beside him, after eyeing the change in his skin tone. “I got you, don’t worry.”

There was no doubt in his mind.

Mintues later, Peyton’s retrieved the goo that she had mashed in the container, stored in the back of the fridge, knowing Luca wouldn’t have went searching through there since he tended to eat out at restaurants or order out majority of the time. He had a sweet tooth so she had to be the one to remind him to actually eat full meals instead of desserts from time to time. Which means they’ll have to go grocery shopping at some point, something Luca truly loathes. unbeknownst to him, his mother all the way out in London had grocery deliveries sent to his home, realizing that he didn’t keep his fridge stocked much after Peyton went back to the states.

Peyton first went off to California to visit her father and grandmother in search of different scenery, taking a break from the growing stress but that stress turned into something else. Luca looked back and saw the signs as they laid on the floor together in the dark, with her talking about the end but figured it was just conversation back then. It wasn’t until she went to Chicago to spend time with her controlling mother that she actually tried and it wasn’t just thoughts. Unperceived to Luca and that’s when Luca’s own mother came to be with her son during this difficult time, then he finally got the call that Peyton was being admitted, just to later learn Peyton’s mother called Luca’s first.

He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t a little irked that people were going behind his back when it came to Peyton. He should have been there…but he knew he couldn’t blame himself. He thought he was just sending his wife to be off for a simple get away…overall he was happy that she was still here fighting day by day.

He knows it’ll be tough but not everyday will be full of clouds.

“i’m not happy you’re sunburnt, but i am enjoying getting to be the one helping you put aloe vera on.” Peyton says as she’s on Luca’s back, knee’s on either side of him, lathering his back in the cold gel.

Her eyes observe the doodles of ink that decorated his arms and smiles at the sunflower on his shoulder, which he dedicated to her.

Luca exhales at the temperature as he continues resting his cheek against his arm, ready to doze off, “Why’s that?”

“I enjoy taking care of you too, duh.”

“I think you like to touch my body, Mariah Carey.”

“That tooooo-ooh,” she tries to belt out a whistle tone that sounds like a rooster being strangled—“but I also love you.”

“I love you lots too, even when you’re trying to make my eardrums bleed…but don’t ever forget that, yeah?” Luca says over his shoulder as he tries to ignore the sting in his skin but knowing that the comfort is coming from Peyton’s hands, he’ll survive.

Peyton leans forward again to place a kiss to the back of Luca’s head, “I won’t.”

Once enough of Luca’s back in covered in aloe, Peyton leaves to wash her hands and place the gel back into the fridge downstairs. When she comes back into the bedroom, Luca is still in the same position she left him in. Usually her side of the bed is closest to the door, which is something they deeply debated over, she climbs over him to tuck herself underneath his folded arm.

His lips press into her clothed shoulder, his t-shirt, before resting his nose against it later, breathing in her homey scent with his eyes closed. One hand goes to run through his sun lightened hair, further soothing him to sleep as she’s back on her phone now, letting him rest.

No more cold sides of the bed because Peyton was home with her warmth and Luca couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

And the next day after that.

And so on and so forth.

❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚

Go back and read my current flop summer prompt here.

Continue along with my anthology summer prompts here.

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear season two #the bear season 2 #the bear s2 #the bear luca #Luca the bear #will poulter #luca the bear x reader #Luca the bear x black! reader #carmy berzatto #sydney amadu #marcus the bear #summer prompts #queued

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