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pucksandpower · 9 months

Note

Grid Kids: y/n pregnency!!

Grid Kids: Bun in the Oven

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: moments with the grid kids during your pregnancy

Series Masterlist

Kicking Up a Storm

“Did the little one just ...” Charles’ eyes widen as he pulls back his hand abruptly from where it had been resting on your stomach.

Lando, lounging on the other side of the room with a video game controller in hand, smirks, “Did what? Tried to escape? Can’t blame it, considering the rest of its siblings."

You swat playfully at Lando as Max and George, engrossed in assembling a nursery chair, look up in anticipation. “Come on, let us feel!” Max pleads, abandoning the chair pieces on the floor.

As everyone gathers around, taking turns to gently place their hands on your baby bump, you feel a flutter, a gentle kick responding to their touch. The room fills with gasps of wonder and joy.

“Feels like a future driver if you ask me,” George grins, looking at Sebastian, who chuckles, already imagining another Vettel on the tracks.

Lance, feeling a tad left out, decides to jump in. “Can it hear us? Hello in there, it’s your brother Lance! Remember to pick me as the fun brother, okay?”

Mick, who has been reading every pregnancy book he could get his hands on, chimes in, “You do realize the baby can’t differentiate voices yet, right?”

Lance waves him off, “Details, details.”

Cravings Are No Joke

“Pickles and chocolate? Seriously?” Max raises an eyebrow, holding up the two seemingly mismatched items as he stands in the middle of a grocery store aisle.

Lance, pushing the cart, shrugs. “Don’t question the cravings, just go with it.”

Charles, scrolling through the list on his phone, adds, “Oh and don’t forget the spicy ramen, blueberry pie, and ... pineapple pizza?”

George groans, “Pineapple pizza? Come on! Anything but that. I’m not even Italian and I’m still offended.”

Lando, with an impish grin, quips, “Remember when she wanted the mango gelato at 3 am? That was a fun drive.”

Mick chuckles, “Or the time we went to five different bakeries just to find that particular lemon cake she couldn’t live without.”

Lance pauses, looking thoughtful, “And wasn’t there a phase where she only wanted foods that were purple?”

George nods, “Yep, aubergines, purple potatoes, grapes ... I still can’t look at a plum without laughing.”

As the grid kids continue shopping, picking out items based on the rather diverse list you gave them, they share more anecdotes of the past months. The store’s other patrons watch in amusement as the young men navigate the aisles, often debating the merits of various brands or flavors, all to ensure they get it just right for you.

Later, back home, your grid kids proudly present their haul. You and Sebastian look on with affection as they lay out the eclectic mix of food.

“Did you guys get everything?” You ask, trying to hide your laughter.

Max feigns offense at being questioned, “Of course, we’re professionals.”

Sebastian leans in to whisper in your ear, “I’m just glad they didn’t try cooking this time. Remember the schnitzel incident?”

You giggle, recalling the disastrous attempt. “Of course I do. I was cleaning flour off the cabinets and ceiling for weeks. But hey, it’s the thought that counts.”

It’s a …

The preparations for your gender reveal are in full swing at the local park and your grid kids are at the heart of it. They’ve split into two factions: Team Girl, led by Charles and Lance, and Team Boy, spearheaded by Max and Lando.

Charles and Lance have laid out a series of pink challenges, including a three-legged race where participants wear pink tutus. “It’s going to be a girl, no doubt about it!” Lance proclaims confidently.

Max and Lando, on the other hand, have a blue-themed obstacle course, complete with a mini kart race. Lando, wearing a blue bandana, shouts over the ruckus, “I have no idea what you’re talking about because it’s definitely a boy.”

George has taken on the role of referee. Dressed in a striped shirt, whistle in hand, he’s ensuring that the competition remains friendly. “Remember, it’s all in good fun!” he reminds everyone, though his “Team Girl” badge suggests where his loyalties lie.

Mick, though undecided, has tie-dye patches of both blue and pink on his shirt. “I just want a healthy sibling for all of us,” he says with a gentle smile, standing back and enjoying the antics.

Sebastian, watching the chaos unfold, leans over and whispers in your ear, “Did we really think letting them plan this was a good idea?”

You laugh, “It’s a bit crazy but look at them. They’re having the time of their lives!”

The moment everyone’s been waiting for finally arrives. At the center of the park, a large, sealed box waits. As you and Sebastian approach, the grid kids form a circle around it, their playful banter coming to a halt.

With a shared look of excitement, you both pull on the ribbon. The box flaps open, releasing a cloud of ... green smoke?

The park erupts in a mixture of laughter and confusion.

Max looks baffled, “Green?”

Charles chuckles, “Guess neither team wins today!”

Lando, trying to waft away the smoke, jokes, “Alien? Oh my god, you’re having an alien!”

Mick wraps an arm around you, “Like I said, as long as it’s healthy.”

You smile, nestling into Sebastian’s side, “We thought we’d keep everyone guessing for a little longer.”

False Alarm

“Sebastian! The baby! I think it’s happening!” You exclaim, feeling a sudden tightening in your abdomen.

Sebastian, who was in the middle of mediating a lively debate with Max and Charles over who will be the baby’s favorite brother, nearly trips over the rug in his rush to get to you. “Okay, okay, okay. Deep breaths, in and out.”

Lance, eyes wide as saucers, frantically begins googling “how to deliver a baby” on his phone while George starts making a list of things needed for the hospital. “Towels! We need towels, right?”

Lando is somewhere on another planet, muttering to himself, “This isn’t happening. I am not ready to see a baby being born. Nope, nope, nope.”

Mick tries to restore some order. “Calm down everyone. Y/N, are you sure it’s really labor?"

Before you can respond, Charles bursts through the door, holding a bucket of ice. “I read somewhere you might need ice. Here!”

You laugh through the discomfort, appreciating the chaos ensuing because of your grid kids’ concern. "Actually guys, I think it’s just Braxton Hicks. False alarm.”

A collective sigh of relief sweeps the room. Sebastian, still slightly pale, pulls you into a hug, “You sure know how to keep things exciting.”

Lance looks up from his phone, “What’s Braxton Hicks?”

“It’s like a rehearsal for the real thing,” George explains, folding up his hastily made list.

Max, trying to regain his cool, smirks, “Well, if that was a rehearsal, the main event is going to be epic.”

You chuckle, patting your belly, “Guess the little one just wanted to see how quickly you all could jump into action.”

Putting the “Student” in “Student Drivers”

As you and Sebastian sit on the couch, going over your prenatal class schedule, a curious George peeks over. “What’s that? Are those the birthing classes?”

You nod, “Yep! We’re starting next week. It’ll help us prepare for the big day.”

Suddenly, Charles pops up beside George, eyes widening in interest. “Can we come?”

“That sounds cool! I’ve always wondered what those classes are like.” Lando chimes in from where he’s keeping an ear out in the kitchen.

Sebastian looks a bit overwhelmed, “I thought it was just going to be the two of us.”

Lance joins the group, scrolling through a magazine article about celebrity dads attending birthing classes. “Look at this! It’s a thing now. We could all go and support you both.”

Max adds, “Besides, we’re family. We’ve been there through everything else. Why not this?”

“Do they even allow so many people to join?” Mick ponders.

You can’t help but laugh at the eager faces in front of you. “I never thought I’d have to bring an entourage to a birthing class.”

Sebastian rubs his temples. “Okay, how about this? We’ll ask the instructor if it’s okay. If they allow it, you guys can join on one condition.”

Lando bounces on his toes, “What’s that?”

“No teasing or making jokes during the class. We’re there to learn and be supportive.”

Charles nudges Max, “That’s mainly directed at you.”

Max fakes innocence. “Me? I would never!”

You shake your head, “Alright, I’ll call tomorrow and see if our little ... or rather large group can attend.”

Your grid kids cheer, excited about the new adventure. As they scatter, already planning and discussing among themselves, Sebastian leans over to whisper in your ear, “This baby is already turning our world upside down and they’re not even here yet.”

You smile and squeeze his hand, “With this family, every moment is an adventure.”

***

The birthing center’s usual tranquil ambiance is slightly offset by the excited chatter of the grid kids as you all enter. The instructor, a calm and composed woman named Clara, raises an eyebrow at the large group but doesn’t comment. After all, it’s not every day that half of the Formula 1 grid walks into her class.

The session starts with everyone introducing themselves. Most couples share sweet stories of their relationship journey. When it's your turn, Sebastian starts, “I’m Sebastian, this is my wife, Y/N,” he pauses, motioning to the group, “and these are ... our sons.”

The room erupts in chuckles. One of the expectant mothers quips, “That’s a lot of kids! You two have been busy!”

Clara moves on with the class, demonstrating breathing techniques. Everyone’s earnest attempt to follow along results in a mix of deep breathing, snorts, and a few stifled laughs. At one point, Max, struggling to get the rhythm right, looks over at Lando and mutters, “I feel like I’m preparing to go underwater.”

When it comes time for practicing labor positions, the grid kids enthusiastically volunteer. George and Charles end up demonstrating a position, with George playing the supporting partner and Charles the laboring mom-to-be. The sight of Charles leaning into George, pretending to be in labor, has the room laughing, especially when Charles exaggerates with dramatic moans.

Lance and Mick take a turn next and when Lance offers words of encouragement to “pregnant” Mick, saying, “You’re doing great, sweetie,” you almost fall off your chair laughing.

Towards the end of the class, Clara demonstrates the use of a birthing ball. Lando decides to take a leap onto one only to bounce off, crashing into Max and sending both of them tumbling to the ground. The room is in stitches.

Despite their hilarious antics, your grid kids genuinely try to grasp the concepts, asking thoughtful questions and engaging in the exercises.

As the class wraps up, Clara approaches you with a smile. “I must say, this has been the most ... lively class I’ve ever taught.”

You grin, “That’s one way to put it.”

She chuckles, “But it’s clear they all care deeply for you and want to support you both in any way they can.”

Sebastian nods, wrapping an arm around you, “We’re very lucky to have them.”

For Real This Time

Lando and Charles are in the middle of a heated argument over the best way to make a sandwich (complete with props and charts) when you suddenly feel a warm sensation. Looking down, your eyes widen. “Uh, guys?”

“What is it?” Sebastian jumps up right away.

You swallow, “I think my water just broke.”

For a moment, there’s stunned silence. Then … mayhem.

Max yells, “To the car! Now!” while Lance scrambles to grab the pre-packed hospital bag.

George accidentally knocks over a vase in his attempt to find your phone. “Sorry! We can clean that up later, right?”

Mick tries to maintain calm, “Everyone, deep breaths, remember the class?”

Lando, eyes wide, mutters, “This is nothing like the class.”

Upon arriving at the hospital, the reception area becomes a scene of organized chaos. As Sebastian wheels you in, the grid kids follow in a flustered procession.

A nurse at the reception desk blinks in surprise. “Is there a convention in town?”

Mick, panting slightly, replies, “No, just family.”

Lando adds, “The biggest family you’ve ever seen.”

Another nurse, recognizing some of the faces, chuckles, “Formula 1 drivers in the maternity ward? Now I’ve seen everything.”

Inside, as the medical team preps you, the grid kids stand outside, pacing and nervously waiting. They take turns peeking through the small window, offering waves and thumbs-up.

Sebastian holds your hand and doesn’t complain once as you grab back hard enough to break every bone in it, “You know, I’ve faced pressure on the track but this ... this is on another level.”

You chuckle, squeezing his hand, “Just remember, I’m doing the hard part.”

Soon enough, after what feels like both a minute and a lifetime, the beautiful cry of your newborn fills the room. Your grid kids, hearing the sound, cheer loudly, causing several nurses to hush them.

Charles, tears in his eyes, says, “We’re big brothers now. Like, for real.”

“Wait,” Lando interjects, “aren’t you already a big brother?”

“Shush mate, let me have this moment.”

Max rolls his eyes but smiles, “Welcome to the family, little one. We’re a bit crazy but we already love you so much.”

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swordsandholly · 30 days

Text

Across The Way

Ch. 2: And So It Begins

Retired!Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader

MDNI

Ao3 | Previous - Next

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

A/N: I got this out a lot faster than I thought I would. Hopefully my work doesn’t get too insane and I can get the next out in a timely manner - it’s going to be a bigger one!

“You were right.” Simon carefully cuts through the loaf with a serrated knife. He’s never lost his skill with them, despite their uses becoming increasingly more domestic over the years. It’s charming, in a way - the juxtaposition of where they started and where they are now.

“Right about whit?” Johnny asks.

“She is a pretty little thing.”

“Donnae tell me I need tae be worried about ye sneakin’ off at work.” He jokes. Simon would never, of course, but it’s fun to see the way his cheeks heat up at the implication. Without his mask he wears every expression with reckless abandon.

Simon settles his large frame into the seat across from Johnny at the dining table. It’s small, they don’t need much. The chairs always creak under Simon’s weight in an almost threatening fashion. He pushes a plate with two pieces of the bread and some eggs over to Johnny. There’s an odd tug in his chest when he picks up the slice - an urge to be gentle as he spreads butter over it. Gentility is not a compulsion he feels often.

“S’good.” Simon mutters around his bite.

Johnny nods along after taking one himself. There’s love in it - he can tell. A piece carefully crafted with only absolute perfection in mind. How strange that food can carry such a feeling.

“Was a wee bit worried we’d be stuck across from the nicest, worst baker in the world.” He mutters.

Simon huffs out a half laugh.

~~~

Your first week goes by in a blur. For a small town they sure do manage to keep you busy. It’s good, you remind yourself. Better than none. If you keep it up at this rate you’ll be able to hire help by the end of the summer quarter.

By Monday, the first day of your “weekend”, you’re overdone. Head dizzy and body exhausted, you spend the day in bed. It’s a gratifying exhaustion, one you hope to build more of a tolerance for. As of now, though, you elect to remain deeply buried under the covers.

When you wake for a second time the sun is already near setting again. The entirety of Monday slunk by with you in bed. You grumble to yourself angrily like an old man. You wanted to unpack today - to at least get your clothes and kitchen items put away.

“Stupid.” You grouse. At least you still have time to shower, you suppose.

As you stand the world blacks out for a moment, your body swaying in place. You allow yourself to fall back on the bed, sitting while your vision slowly comes back into focus. Blinking away black dots and off squiggles that dance across your eyes. On attempt number two you manage it, making your way to the bathroom.

The work is worth it. The pain is worth it.

This is what you always wanted, after all.

You are happy. You can feel it in your bones. They’re lighter than they used to be - your whole body thrums with excited energy even as you have to lower yourself with the upmost care into the shower seat. Even as you have to scrape one of the cheap fold out chairs you managed to get over to the stove while you cook a late night dinner. Thank god for low counters.

When you were arranging your schedule it took a while to get it perfected. To compensate for your body you have to have time to rest and be able to do a lot of baking preparation before the work week starts. Monday and Tuesday are for rest. Wednesdays are for prep. The shop is closed but you’re in the back working your ass off mixing and kneading and shaping doughs. As well as practicing new recipes you want to add to the store’s line up eventually. Your goal is to sell American biscuits, preferably in batches of six, but those take a lot of work and don’t keep as long. They’ll have to wait until you have hired help.

It’s all chance and whatever you can manage to make happen. You learned to be okay with that, though.

You’ve got plenty of spoons, you tell yourself. Just need to use them wisely.

When you finally close the fridge, now fully stocked with dough ready to proof and bake, you check the clock. It’s still the early afternoon. You finished sooner than you assumed you might. The thought makes you giddy - makes you feel accomplished.

It makes you feel normal.

As you exit into the warm spring sun you take a moment. Ever since you arrived you haven’t been able to just stop. To just take everything in - let the foreign air fill your lungs and the aura of the town sink into your bones.

It’s a lovely little main street that you’re located on. The building to your left is a large family owned pharmacy (very convenient for you) and to your right is an empty brick building. It looks like a former post office, but from what you know the current post office is a few blocks down beside the grocers. It’s quaint, the lot of it.

Your eyes settle on the shop across from yours housed in a simple brick building painted white. The upstairs is an apartment much like yours, you think, but from what you know it currently remains empty. The sign above the door reads A Cut Above the Rest. You wonder if that was Simon or Johnny’s doing.

Would it be weird to go in? You suppose not, after all they came to yours. It’s only fair you give them some patronage as well. Plus you need to ask how the bread was. Hopefully they liked it - you realized halfway through the night that you didn’t even ask if they like sourdough before shoving it into their hands.

That thought kept you up later than you’d like to admit.

You look both ways down the street. This particular spot doesn’t have a crosswalk but the road is so dead even when the downtown is busy you figure it’s worth risking. The lack of danger doesn’t stop you from fast-walking across, though.

The shop’s old-fashioned door bell chimes prettily as you push it open. For a butcher it smells extremely clean - almost clinical. It’s small, with an L shaped display counter and a register at the end nearest the door. Packages of sausage links and the like hang on displays across the back wall. Beside the wooden saloon doors that lead behind the counter is a little dog bed with a very well crafted name plate reading Riley hanging right above it.

So cute.

“Afternoon.” Simon appears from the back, wiping his hands on a rag. You jump a little, so lost in taking in your surroundings you forgot what you came here for.

“H-hi!” You smile. You forgot how intimidating Simon is. His gaze levels you - pins you underneath him like a fly under a swatter. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic. “I thought I’d come check your shop out and ask how the bread was?”

“It was good.” He replies bluntly. Totally monotone. The corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. You decide that’s it’s a smile - whether that’s the reality of his expression or not.

“It’s really nice in here.” You look around. There isn’t much for decoration. The walls are too covered in menus and diagrams of cuts to leave room for anything extra. There’s a shelf of odds and ends opposite the main counter full of high end mustards and condiments. Little things to go with whatever you could think to make out of the varieties of meat they offer.

“Thanks.” Simon nods. “One moment.”

You watch with curiosity and a slight frown as he makes his way into the back. He almost has to duck under the doorway. Old buildings with low ceilings and all that. The place definitely wasn’t made with a six foot plus behemoth in mind. You continue to look around, rocking back and forth on your heels. They have a perfect score on their inspectors plaque. You might not know Simon well, but he seems the type to be absolutely precise about everything. The score doesn’t surprise you.

Yours is almost perfect - some rules are different here than in the US. Next time, you swear you’ll get it top notch! You look across the street at your shop. You wonder if you made the wrong choice with The Honey Bun. It’s bit much now that you see it from afar but it still makes you smile. That’s what matters, you guess.

Simon comes back out with a small, nicely wrapped package. “You don’t ‘ave any dietary restrictions d’you?”

You shake your head and he pushes the package toward you. Your eyes widen - it’s a great cut of high end beef. Like, really good beef as far as you know. Something you’d never be able to afford even if your business wasn’t brand new. You stare between Simon and the little pack in your hands. “Th-this is so nice but I-“

“It’s only fair.” He cuts you off. “Neighbors, yeah?”

You can’t help the grin that splits your face, eyes misting up despite yourself. Kindness has not been a constant in your life - more of a rarity. Something you had to claw and fight to earn. Being given it so freely but such a taciturn man has you reeling just a bit.

“Thank you… I’ve got to head back but, uh, thank you. Really.” You press the small package to your chest. “Tell Johnny I said hi?”

“Course.” He nods.

“Thanks again!” You grin, giving a little two finger salute before practically skipping all the way back into your dingy little apartment. Happily, you pack away the meat to use later. It’s too nice to just make any dish out of - best to save it for a special occasion. Your first gift in your new life. Best to savor it.

~~~

“Afternoon, bonnie.” Johnny appears in your doorway while you sweep up from the Saturday rush, bell chiming upon his entrance. “Hope I’m not a bother.”

“Not at all.” You smile, resting the broom on the counter. “Hello to you as well, Miss Riley.”

She huffs out a quiet bark in reply, sitting dutifully at Johnny’s feet. You don’t have much experience with service dogs - other than the well known rule not to pet them while they’re working. They were always too expensive for you to get and your condition wasn’t labeled serious enough to warrant financial aid. (Despite the fact that you can, and have, passed out and hit your head on something hard.)

“Can I get you something?” You ask.

“Och, I’m a’right. Just wanted tae stop by an’ say hello before headin’ home.” He gives you that dashing, bright grin. “Simon always kicks me out of the shop at close.”

“He doesn’t need help?” You ask. Surely cleaning up a butchers shop is a huge task. You have your work cut out for you with all the flower - you can’t imagine cleaning that amount of blood and mess.

Johnny shrugs. “The cleaning chemicals trigger my migraines.”

You hum. “Well, you’re always welcome to stop by. Actually,” you turn on your heel, “I’ve got somethin’ I’d like you to try, if you want.”

“Never one to say no to food. Especially from a pretty girl.” Johnny says as he follows. He tells Riley to stay in front and she listens - the perfect little lady that she is. You nearly trip at his comment, keeping your back turned so that he hopefully doesn’t see the heat spreading from your face and down your neck.

“I-it’s, uh, you ever had American biscuits?” You ask, praying he doesn’t notice the shake in your voice. You have to get on your tip toes to reach the small basket you made the day prior - carefully lowering it and pulling back the gingham cloth you wrapped them in.

An image of home.

“Aye, had them once on a layover at some chain diner.” He nods. “Donnae think they were fresh, though.”

“Well these are proper biscuits.” You carefully cut one in half with ease. “Sometime I’ll have to make you some gravy to go with.”

“Yer gonnae make us fat, hen.” Johnny chuckles.

“There are worse things to be.” The words come out more defensive than you would have liked. An automatic mechanism - a harshness you've honed over the years.

You hate how easily you wield it, sometimes.

Johnny leans forward over the table, a furrow in his brow. “I dinnae mean-“

“Here.” You cut him off and hold out the biscuit on a napkin, smothered with butter in the middle.

Johnny lets your interruption go. Probably happy for an out. He takes the fluffy baked good slowly, cupping it in his large hand with care. You wonder if he always does that, touches things with such gentle love. Is it learned? Is it just natural to him? Does he touch Simon like that? Gentle caresses?

What’s that like?

Johnny takes a massive, enthusiastic bite. Somehow his blue eyes manage to sparkle even more, grinning as he chews. “Sh’gew!”

You laugh at his attempt to talk around the food. “Glad you like it.”

He swallows roughly. A full body gulp. “Why’d ye start bakin’ anyway?”

“My grandparents raised me.” You fold the biscuits back up in their little basket. “My grandma taught me how. She was the best in town - won the pie contest almost every year.”

“Tha’s lovely.” The smile he gives you is so genuine it makes your chest constrict.

“Mean old bat but she could beat anyone in the kitchen.” You laugh. “We swore she had some kinda magic. Like a green thumb but for cooking.”

“My mum’s like tha’. Can make anythin’ out of nothin’.” He nods along.

You fall into an easy back and forth - never breaching anything deeper than the most surface level of content as he eats. It’s manageable. Johnny doesn’t push and neither do you.

Riley barks from the front of the shop.

“Och, tha’s my queue.” Johnny brushes off his hands and checks the front of his shirt for crumbs. “Take care, aye?”

You smile. “You too.”

~~~

Johnny’s words keep ringing in your ears. You don’t know why. It’s nothing special. There’s no reason to attach to them. You raise a hand to wipe off the fog and stare in the small mirror hung above your bathroom sink.

Pretty girl.

You scoff. You’re not a pretty girl. You’ve never been a pretty girl. Fat girl. Stupid girl. Sick girl. Tired girl. Sad girl.

That last one you’ve heard more than anything else. Out of all the descriptors of you it stands out as the most used. By everyone from teachers to your own family. Always just a sad, sad girl.

You got it from your mom, they’d say. It’s not like you would ever know.

You rip your eyes away from the mirror and try to let the thoughts melt away as you sink into the comfort of your blankets. Those thoughts live back on the other side of the Atlantic. They don’t get to follow you here.

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egcdeath · 5 months

Text

how the cookie crumbles

summary: when you come back home to austin to help your sister with her bakery, you end up in an arrangement with your high school crush that ends up being far more than you bargained for.

word count: 11.5k

warnings: FAKE DATING, au: no outbreak, pining. so much pining and a touch of yearning, idiots to lovers, high school crushes to lovers, very hallmark-romcom esque, fluff, a touch of angst, more fluff, the reader has a sister but the sister doesn’t have a name, joel’s ex is kinda rude, alcohol consumption, cuddling, miscommunication kinda, unrequited love that’s actually requited love, no use of y/n, not beta read.

author’s note: this is my first fic back after taking my several month long break!! i want to give a big shoutout to my texas consultant and biggest cheerleader @cowgurrrl, who encouraged me to write, gave me helpful ideas, and let me dump my brain and my silly little ideas on her whenever <3

For as long as you could remember, you and your sister had been total opposites. As girls, your sister spent her time playing with dolls, experimenting with whatever new hairstyle on your scalp, and eagerly shadowing your mother in the kitchen, while you preferred to spend your time exploring the city on your bike, reading books in your hammock, and doodling whatever had caught your interest in your hourly. As you entered young adulthood, you were unsurprised as your sister married her high school sweetheart just months after graduating college before setting off to start her own business in Austin, while you moved as far as you could out of Texas and began a prosperous career in New York City.

Regardless of the different paths your lives had taken, the minute your sister had even suggested that she might’ve needed help at her bakery, you were booking a flight back home. The holidays were a notoriously busy time for her business, with people wanting cakes and pies to display as their own labors of love at their family gatherings, or to have their children wake up to a dozen expertly decorated cookies under the guise that that was what their Elf on the Shelf had been up to that night.

Given that you had no holiday plans other than drinking Bailey’s-spiked hot chocolate and watching reruns of your favorite season of The Bachelor, it seemed like a no-brainer to come back to Austin. Part of you was excited for your homecoming, to return to the vibrant personality of the city that was a far cry from the east coast city you’d grown to know and love over the years. The other part of you dreaded your return, not feeling particularly excited to have to run into peers from your adolescence while you were trying to peruse the shelves of your local Costco.

You were welcomed with warm arms the moment that you walked through the door of your sister’s home—metaphorically and literally. She practically hugged you the entire way as you dropped your items off in her guest bedroom, then even more so as she directed you to her car, giving you all sorts of updates about your parents and her husband, but not allowing you to forget the whole reason that you’d come home in the first place.

“You’re not hungry or anything, right?” she asked as she hopped into the driver's seat next to you.

“I think I’m good. I ate at the airport,” you replied, slightly amused by your sister’s eagerness to get you to work immediately. Then again, you couldn’t exactly blame her when you thought about how busy she must’ve been.

“Good! I’m gonna put you right to work then. How does frosting cupcakes sound?”

It sounded fine, and it was fine for the first few hours, until the angle of the piping bag started to make the newfound cramping in your hands unbearable, and your sister had to give you an impromptu tutorial on how not to make your rosettes look so… depressing.

“Look, the Girl Scouts need this order in like, an hour, and my cashier is going home in a bit. Give yourself a little break to shake your hand out, or pee, or do whatever it is you have to do, then you can ring customers up. How does that sound?” she finally huffed, clearly just as frustrated with you for your inability to do a task that was practically second nature to her.

“Anything’s better than frosting these damn cupcakes,” you commented as you tossed your gloves into the trash. “If I never have to frost a cupcake again, it’ll be too soon.”

“I love you, which is why I have to tell you that you will be frosting so many more cupcakes in the next few days,” she laughed aloud, looking down at the army of baked goods in front of her that she was still working on meticulously frosting. “But you’ll get used to it. I’ll have Ben give you better instructions. He’s really good at this, for some reason. I’m convinced it’s because he went to art school.”

You groaned dramatically as you exited the kitchen, only to bother your sister if nothing else. After all, wasn’t it your job as a younger sibling to annoy your older sibling?

As much as you enjoyed doing random tasks that your sister needed done in the back, working in the front was definitely one of the better aspects of working at the bakery. There was far less technique involved in doing anything, and when there was downtime in the storefront, you got to passively scroll on social media, turning your brightness down so you could secretly cyberstalk people from your high school in peace.

Being that you were distracted by the phone in your hand, you paid no mind to the shrill sound of the door’s bell as it opened. As you finished up looking at someone’s engagement pictures, you glanced up once before doing a complete double take.

“Hey, I’m just here to pick up the Girl Scout order-”

There was no way.

You hadn’t seen that face in years. Hell, you hadn’t thought about that face in years, despite your mild obsession with him as a teenager.

Joel had been the definition of so close, yet so far. You seemed to always be in his orbit, butterflies in your stomach every time he leaned over his desk to ask you a question about the material or to poke fun at one of the weirder quirks your teacher had. Yet, just as you’d finally worked up the nerve to confess your feelings to him, word got around the school that he was becoming a father. After many pints of ice cream and late nights of your older sister comforting an inconsolable teenage you, you’d finally gotten over the man, letting his memory become a funny anecdote you shared to friends to display your terrible luck in love.

As much as you hated to admit it, he looked good. Obviously, he was much older now, but much to your dismay, he’d aged more like wine than like milk. Donning a new beard that somehow managed to make him even more handsome and biceps that strained against the sleeves of his shirt, he looked far more attractive than you could ever even remember him, his mature look a good one. You were sure his wife loved looking at that striking face in the morning, before she set off to take care of their adorable young daughter. Their perfect little family, still holding up despite the test of time.

You had gotten so caught up in your thoughts, you’d barely registered the fact that Joel had said your name in a tone that held a mixture of excitement and disbelief.

“I haven’t seen you in years! Since high school?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer. The surprise of seeing him, let alone seeing him looking so good led you to smile dumbly and shrug. “Wow!” he remarked.

“It has been a really long time,” you grinned involuntarily, practically feeling yourself revert back to your younger, immature self simply at the sight of the man standing across from you. “How are you? How’s the family?”

“We’re good. Sarah’s turning 13 soon, which is really exciting,” Joel explained, setting a hand on his hip as he did so. You swore you could see the fondness for his daughter as he spoke. “It feels like just yesterday I was feeding her bottles and carrying her around in a sling.”

“I know, they just grow up so fast,” you agreed, as if you’d had any sort of experience in the field. The fact that Joel still had this effect on you, one that made you want to follow him around like a lost puppy and agree with every word that came out of his mouth was mildly concerning to you—particularly because he clearly had a wife and a child.

“They really do. You have any of your own?” Joel asked, looking deep into your eyes and making you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“Me? No,” you dismissed before following it up with,. “I’ve been pretty focused on my career, so it’s not exactly the best time for a family. To be quite honest, I think my cats do the trick plenty well.”

“You’re still so responsible,” Joel complimented, stirring something up deep inside of you that you promptly wanted to push right back down. “Clearly, I didn’t do any family planning. I’d say it worked out pretty well, if you don’t count having to get divorced just a few years after getting married.”

This piqued your interest. You could almost feel the teenage version of yourself cheering internally at the news that Joel and the mother of his child had split. She’d always been a bit of a bitch to you, so to hear that the two of them had split had sounded like music to your ears.

“Man, that’s too bad. I always thought you two would be the one couple from our school to make it,” you lied through your teeth, hoping that your entertainment wasn’t too obvious.

Joel chuckled and shook his head, smile lines appearing seemingly out of thin air, and unfortunately making you melt on the inside, just the slightest bit.

“That’s really too bad. I mean, what happened with you guys? If you don’t mind me asking,” you were definitely taking a risk with this question, but you were hoping that the reward of the answer would be worth every bit of boldness you put together to ask.

“We just had… different ideas for our futures,” Joel explained what you could only assume was a very condensed version of what had actually occurred. “You know, she’s actually in town right now.”

“I hadn’t realized she’d left town. Should we keep our voices down then?” you asked jokingly, although it would be quite awkward if his ex wife walked in while the two of you were talking about her.

“No, we’re good,” Joel chuckled. “Sarah really wanted to see her for the holidays, and it wasn’t like I could say no to that request. Although, getting Naomi to actually come was a bit like pulling teeth. I’m sorry, this is way too much information. What about you? Any special people in your life?”

“No, Joel, you’re all good. You know how much of a gossip I was,” you offered him a genuine smile. “Unfortunately, no. Funnily enough, the thing I was dreading most about coming home is having my mom constantly on my ass about bringing home a good man.”

“I get it. It’s exhausting seeing all the PDA whenever Naomi and Henry come back. It’s like they’re rubbing in that we’re so happy together and you’re still all alone.”

“Assholes,” you remarked, rolling your eyes to show Joel just how on his side you were. “I’m sure you’ll find someone someday. I mean, both of us will. Then maybe my mom will stop bothering me and your ex will finally stop acting all high and mighty for being in a relationship.”

“I can only hope,” Joel sighed. “Well, I apologize for dumping all of my holiday woes on you when I really should just be picking up some cupcakes.”

“Oh no, I apologize for holding you up. I’ll go grab that order for you,” you said before walking off to the back, where your sister had just finished putting the final touches on the order.

“Perfect timing,” she remarked, stepping back and running her arm against her slightly damp forehead. “Who were you talking to back there?”

“Oh, no one,” you dismissed, not ready to hear her reaction. “Just giving good customer service.”

The look she gave you told you loud and clear that she didn’t believe you, but it would be a conversation for another time. Since she didn’t seem interested in pressing, you took it as your opportunity to grab the large, pink box, and bring it out to Joel.

“Here’s that order for you,” you said politely. “It was good seeing you today.”

“Yeah, you too,” he said, happily taking the slightly heavy box when you offered it to him. “How long will you be in town?”

“Into the New Year, I think? Maybe earlier, maybe later,” you shrugged.

“We should get together sometime. Maybe get a coffee or something and properly catch up? I would love for you to meet Sarah, too.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you grinned, begging yourself not to revert back to your younger, naive self, but not exactly being able to fight it at the same time. “Well, if you ever need me, I’ll probably be here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as he headed to the door. “See ya!”

As soon as the door jingled, announcing Joel’s departure, you let out a deep breath that you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding.

Fuck. You could not be feeling this way about a man you had a crush on in high school.

Your sister always seemed to have a sixth sense for when you were getting antsy, so one evening as the two of you worked on closing the storefront, she pulled you from the monotony of sweeping the floors while listening to the sound of her new favorite pop artist to send you to the grocery store and retrieve a few items that she needed more of.

With her company card safely secured in your wallet, a short list scribbled out on a pink post-it note, and your hands closely grasping the handlebars of the cart, you amaturely navigated the grocery store, unfamiliar with the locations of the items that lined the shelves after years of not visiting Austin.

The evening in the grocery store brought you a sense of serenity, with the rush of urgent people looking to pick up the one ingredient they forgot for dinner mostly gone. After packing your cart full of sticks of butter and bags of sugar, you headed off to the get your final item, relieved to have had a mostly successful trip without running into anyone you knew in your youth.

But just as you had this thought, you caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of your eye. Dark hair and beard imprinted in your mind after your brief interaction with him just one day ago. You did your absolute best to pretend you didn’t see him as you inspected a bag of flour, keeping your head lowered, and gaze averted. Yet, your efforts were futile, as just moments later, you heard your name called aloud as the man approached you.

“Hey!” he said cheerily, blissfully unaware that you were attempting to use the ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’ method on him just moments ago. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, it’s been like forever,” you added on, looking into his eyes and almost immediately regretting your decision as your gut was immediately consumed with a swarm of rabid butterflies. “What’re you doing here?”

“Grabbing some groceries,” he answered sweetly, despite that being the obvious answer to your not-so-great question.

Duh. What else did people come to the grocery store for? What a stupid question. See? Joel just made you so… stupid! Even after all of the years you’d spent apart.

“Sarah wanted to try making some Christmas cookies to bring to her mom, so…” he trailed off, gesturing down at the flour that was now in his hand. “Got any tips on the best flour to get?”

“That’s definitely more of my sister’s wheelhouse. I just do whatever she needs me to do, like go and get,” you glanced down at your list before continuing for comedic effect, “White miso paste.”

Joel smiled fondly at your joke, only making your insides melt further.

“Remind me to stop by and try whatever has that white miso paste in it. Sounds interesting,” Joel grabbed a package of all-purpose flour and tossed it into his cart, before leaning on his cart.

Fuck. Why did he have to be so endearing, with his smile lines and his kind eyes, and his insistence on treating you like you were the only other woman in the world, despite the other woman customer just standing feet away from you two.

“I definitely will. Has your number changed in the past thirteen years?” you asked, not sure what had gotten into you with the slightly flirty move.

He shook his head, his eye briefly catching on something and causing him to pause in his movements before he returned to the conversation, now looking slightly off in a way that he hadn’t looked just a moment ago. You were so stupid. Of course you trying to flirt back would’ve backfired. You needed to excuse yourself before you managed to embarrass yourself any more than you already had.

“It has not,” he confirmed, smiling at you once more, but not looking like his heart was completely into it. “Any chance you’re checking out?”

“I am!” you said a little too enthusiastically, which Joel responded to by somewhat urgently beginning to walk to the check-out lane. Given that he hadn’t told you goodbye, you followed him like the lost puppy that you were around him.

Just as the two of you stopped in line and had mostly finished checking out, Joel finally seemed to unclench from whatever he’d seen (or whatever you’d said) that had bothered him before. Yet, as soon as it was over, you noticed that same tension washed over him once more.

“Oh, Naomi. Henry,” Joel said, his tone taking a complete 180 from what he had just had with you moments ago, and his change in demeanor suddenly made sense to you. “Didn’t realize you two were in town yet.”

You glanced over to the woman who had seemingly appeared out of thin air to ruin your moment with Joel, just like she had done in high school a million times over. Who you hadn’t recognized was the man next to her, looking a little too put together for someone who had likely just gotten off a flight and was headed to the grocery store.

“Joel,” she said artificially sweetly, the one singular word drenched in annoyance. “We just got in. We’re grabbing groceries for the hotel.”

“I didn’t realize chocolate chips were groceries,” Joel muttered to himself as he evaluated their basket. You were slightly surprised by the sass he had seemed to equip out of nowhere, a far cry from the southern charm he had displayed with you in your past interactions. You desperately wanted to leave the situation, which was clearly none of your business.

“Surely, you remember your ex-wife having a sweet tooth,” the man on her side replied defensively, wrapping an arm around her protectively.

“Something like that,” he replied, glancing over at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite read.

With tensions boiling over with just a few words stated, you finally decided to step in, impulse and instinct guiding you.

“Hey honey, I think we need to get going,” you said, internally cringing as the words left your mouth. Joel’s now wide eyes made contact with your unsure ones and your furrowed brows as you attempted to tell him to just go with it without a single word.

The good thing for you was that Joel was a quick learner, and his hand quickly found the small of your back. Something in Naomi’s expression changed, just for a moment, before she went back to her stone cold facade. You hoped that Joel caught it, the same way that you did.

“Yeah, we don’t want to keep you too long, since we’ll be seeing you plenty this holiday season,” Naomi replied, flashing you a fake smile. “I didn’t realize you two were together. I’ve never heard Joel say anything about you.”

You were sure the sentiment was supposed to hurt your feelings, but you were more unsurprised by the sentiment than anything else.

“Some of us like to leave our personal lives personal,” he shot back, glancing at you before bringing his glare back to his ex-wife.

“Well, that’s cute. I remember, you had the biggest crush on Joel back in the day. Glad you two ended up together,” she laughed and your stomach dropped. Were you that obvious in the past? “Anyway, we’re gonna go to a less busy lane. See you at dinner, Joel. And maybe you, too?” She looked you up and down, and for a second you felt like you were in the hallways of your high school once again, trying your best to avoid the passive aggression of a particularly mean girl.

“Right. Bye,” he said simply, watching the pair walk away as if he were scared that they would turn back around at some point and bother Joel some more.

“Fuck,” he muttered aloud as soon as they were out of earshot, his hand falling away from your back and back to his side.

You immediately launched yourself into a rambling apology, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep or anything, they just looked like they wanted to eat you alive and-“

“No, no, don’t apologize. I appreciate what you did back here. I mean, you saw the look on her face when she thought we were together?”

“Oh yeah,” you laughed out, which also acted as a cover for the deep sigh of relief you needed to let out. “Is she always so shocked when she thinks you’re dating someone new?”

“Well, I haven’t dated much since the divorce,” he explained as the two of you began exiting the building. “So I guess I didn’t really know what to expect. But it totally delivered.”

You couldn’t help but smile as the two of you walked out to your cars together and Joel confessed that not only was he single, but that he hadn’t really seen anyone. Not that it really mattered to you, considering that the two of you had absolutely no shot together.

You weren’t exactly sure where Joel had parked, but he’d offered to help unload your groceries into your car, and you weren’t exactly going to decline that offer.

“Thank you, again for helping me out tonight,” Joel said as he helped place bags in the trunk of the car. “Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

“Actually, there is one thing.”

—

Every year, you absolutely dreaded your family’s holiday celebrations. Specifically, the celebrations where you showed up without a date, and had to spend the night downing eggnog to drown out the sound of your family asking you when you were going to settle down and bring a grandchild, or niece, or nephew into the family.

But this year, you didn’t have to worry about that issue. After running into Joel at the grocery store and briefly pretending to be his partner, he’d agreed to do the same for you at a family holiday party, and to be completely honest, you couldn’t be more excited.

“Again, thank you,” you said to Joel as he opened the passenger door to his truck for you, politely standing at the side of it as you got in.

“It was really the least I could do after you saved my ass back there in the store,” he dismissed, closing the door behind you before getting back into the car.

“I mean, I couldn’t just stand there and let you suffer,” you explained, glancing over at the man as he settled into the seat and started the car. He’d certainly dressed up more than usual for the event, a nice red sweater nicely complimenting your green sweater, and his hair styled nicely. For a second, you thought about your younger self, and how she probably would’ve given anything for a night like this—to just play pretend with Joel just for a moment, since he clearly didn’t see you the way you saw him.

“Well, I appreciate it,” he dismissed, sending you a quick, charming smile before beginning to pull out of the driveway. “Anything I need to know about your family?”

“Oh my god,” you laughed. “Where do I start?”

You more or less talked Joel’s ear off on the drive over, filling him in on family members to avoid; overbearing aunts who would attempt to examine him like a lab specimen, uncles who would try to quiz him on his knowledge of local sports teams, and the occasional family friend, who seemed to be just as crazy as your actual kin. Joel listened politely, taking in all of the information, and throwing in some commentary every now and then, but surely making mental notes on who to try to avoid.

Once you finally arrived at the car-lined street, Joel once again opened the door for you like the gentleman he was, before allowing you to lead the way to the christmas-light adorned house that was clearly bustling on the inside. As the two of you walked up to the porch, Joel looked at you rather earnestly.

“Did I scare you in the car? I promise they’re not all that bad,” you began to attempt to explain, nerves bubbling in your stomach as you thought about how Joel surely wanted to go home.

“No, no, you didn’t scare me,” he assured you, reaching over to brush a stray hair out of your face. “I just… I never got the chance to tell you how good you look. I wanted to say something when you first got in my car, but I guess I got scared. You always look good, but you kinda took my breath away.”

Fuck, you internally groaned. Why did he have to tell you that? Was he just trying to get into character or something? You couldn’t even gather the words for how it made you feel before the front door was swinging open with one of your favorite aunts at the door greeting you.

“Hello, my love!” she practically squealed as she pulled you into a hug. “And who is this?”

“This is my boyfriend, Joel,” you introduced, only slightly alarmed at how easily the word rolled off your tongue.

“Hello, ma’am,” Joel said warmly, setting out a hand for her to shake, which was rejected in favor of a hug. He was clearly a bit caught off guard by it, but also clearly a little into it.

“Sorry,” you whispered to him once she let go and the two of you were ushered inside. “We’re a hug family. I probably should’ve warned you about that on the ride over.”

“I don’t mind, I promise,” he assured you, gently grabbing your hand and looking to you for some sort of assurance. You smiled at him then subtly nodded, lacing your fingers in between his in an act that you hoped would be as practical as it was performative.

As the two of you navigated through the house, you made pleasant small talk with all who you encountered, with you proudly introducing Joel as your boyfriend, and him taking the lead in introducing himself from time to time. After an exhausting hello tour, you had finally made it to the kitchen for drinks, something you’d surely need if you were going to keep up at this rate of socialization.

As you grabbed Joel the beer he’d requested and began to spoon out ladles of the bowl that was tape-labeled ‘ADULT Punch’ into your own cup, you were slightly surprised that you’d finally ran into your mother.

“Hi honey,” she squealed, pulling you into a hug. “How long have you been here? You avoiding me?”

While past experiences of being single during the holiday season and having to interact with your mother often ended up with you suffering for the entirety of the night–or an entire week, like the time she tried to set you up with a coworker’s son–you felt a newfound confidence with the knowledge that Joel was just a few feet away from you, diligently playing the perfect boyfriend.

“We just got here,” you giggled at her typical overbearing self. For once, your guard was down, knowing that she would not be attempting to set you up with anyone, or hounding you about coming home and settling down with a nice local.

“We?” she asked dramatically, brows raised in surprise. “Is your sister somewhere around here, or something?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” you feigned offense as she stepped back to look at the two drinks in your hands. “I brought my boyfriend,” you glanced back at Joel, who was right where you left him, making enthusiastic smalltalk with one of your cousins about the Cowboys game. Like a good little fake boyfriend, upon catching your eye he excused himself from his conversation and walked over to you and your mother.

“Mom, this is Joel, my partner,” you explained, as your gentlemanly fake boyfriend grabbed your mother’s hand and gave it a polite kiss. You certainly hadn’t forgotten about his charm back in the day, but to watch it up close and personal after so much time had passed was undoubtedly having a bit of an effect on you.

“I’ve heard all about you. Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he gushed. You had to give credit where credit was due, Joel was a great actor. You’d given him a bit of backstory on your mom on the ride over to the house, and you’d certainly discussed her while the two of you were students, but definitely not to the extent that he was playing up.

“So nice to meet you,” she replied, her cheeks warming at her interactions with the man. Joel was laying it on thick, but it seemed to be working for her. “Miller, right?”

“Indeed,” he confirmed, flashing a pearly white smile at your mother. As you watched the interaction, you were doing your best to keep it together, partially wanting to laugh out loud at Joel’s overdramatic chivalrous act, and partially wanting to melt into a puddle over just how alluring he was.

“Then I’ve also heard a lot about you. My daughter had the biggest crush on you in high school! It’s so funny that you’ve ended up together now. I suppose God’s timing is always right?”

Your eyes grew wide and your mouth gaped open for a second as your mother reinforced your little secret that Joel had heard from someone else just a few days ago. Suddenly, you were feeling a lot less like a liquidy puddle, and more like the bark of a firm tree–if that tree could experience mortification. If you didn’t need it before, now you really needed that drink. He glanced at you and smiled cheekily before looking back at your mother.

“So I’ve heard,” he said with a smirk, clearly biting back a laugh. You were going to kill your mother. And maybe Naomi too, while you were at it. In fact, you might just add yourself into the mix. It certainly couldn’t hurt. Or at least, it would hurt less than the discomfiture of your fake boyfriend hearing from everyone about the huge crush you had on him.

“Mom! I think your other daughter just got here. Why don’t you go say hi to her and Ben?” you suggested, knowing that the best way to prevent her from embarrassing you any further was to distract her with the idea of embarrassing her other child in front of her significant other.

You clearly knew your mother well, because the strategy worked well enough to get her off your tail. You passed Joel his beer as he watched you closely, the same mischievous smirk lingering on his face long after your mother had left.

“Crush, huh?” he teased you, causing you to shake your head as you took a healthy sip from a deceptively strong punch.

“Shut up,” you groaned. “Please.”

As the night went on, you realized that you couldn’t have picked a better candidate to pretend to be your boyfriend at a family gathering. Joel was quite sociable and polite, even more so with a beer in his system. He didn’t even mind entertaining your family members on his own as you went off and caught up with the few members of your family that you could tolerate for more than a few minutes at a time.

Following a rather chaotic series of discussions including when you and Joel were getting engaged (never, I mean, in the next few years. Probably.), the most romantic thing you’d done (backpacking through Europe, according to Joel), and what it was like reconnecting with your high school crush (fucking fantastic), you’d finally lost track of Joel. You did a quick lap around the house before bumping into your sister and cousin, the latter of which desperately described her need for air.

The three of you huddled together outside on the deck, the spot where you seemed to find yourselves at almost every family function regardless of how fun or stressful it ended up being. While you were enjoying the mayhem of the party and enjoying your time with Joel even more, it was nice to have a little break from it all.

“I can’t believe you’ve been home for just a few days and you’ve already gotten your childhood crush wrapped around your finger,” your sister laughed, comfortably leaning against the railing of the deck.

“That’s the power of working for a Fortune 500. All of the men in your hometown just want a sugar mommy for a little bit. Get some presents for the kids and wife for free,” you joked.

“You’re kidding?” your cousin asked, her brows furrowed in a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

“I’m kidding,” you confirmed. “You know, we aren’t even actually dating,” you confessed, lips and tongue loose from your second glass of punch.

“What?” your cousin and sister exclaimed at the same time, the two of them suddenly very alert.

Even in your not-completely-there state of mind, you could tell that you had made a mistake telling your secret. It was now very likely that the entire house would know the truth within the next hour, or that you would not be hearing the end of how terrible an idea the whole ordeal was for months on end.

“I figured you two just hit it off, or had some long distance thing going on?” your sister questioned, peering at you curiously as if your face would reveal some sort of information about your arrangement.

“Nope. It’s kinda a long story, but I guess the short of it all is that we’re pretending to be together for the holidays so certain people get off our asses,” you said casually, finishing off your drink and looking out into the backyard rather than making eye contact with either of your kin.

“Fair enough,” your cousin sighed, finally relaxing once more. “If I wasn’t already seeing Will, I’d probably do the same.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea? He really broke your heart,” your sister asked, grabbing your arm to attempt to force you to look at her, and staring at you with concern.

You were sure you could imagine what was going through her head in the moment, the vision of your heartbroken teenage self and the sound of your prolonged sobs as you questioned what your crush saw in her that he couldn’t see in you. You really couldn’t blame her for being worried. She was your older sister, after all, the task of protecting you instilled in her from the day you left the womb, and clearly not gone now. But things were different now. You were all adults, you had more life experience and perspective, and most importantly, whatever was going on between you and Joel wasn’t real, regardless of how much you might have wanted it to be.

“Yeah, when we were eighteen. I think it’ll be fine,” you dismissed, as if anything was ever that simple.

“And he seems like a sweetie now. I think my own parents were wishing I brought him home for the holidays,” your cousin, ever the peacekeeper, added as she attempted to diffuse the quickly escalating tension between you and your sibling.

“He was also a sweetie thirteen years ago when he led you on, then got someone pregnant,” your sister snapped back with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest and turning her back to you.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you declared, watching your breath float away in a cold puff of air. “Can we go inside now? I think my toes are gonna fall off.”

After a side eye from your sister and a nod of agreement from your cousin, the three of you headed back inside, where you made quick work of grabbing yet another drink and finding the fireplace.

A few couches were arranged by the fireplace, some filled from edge to edge with sleeping, snuggling children who were exhausted by the excitement of a holiday party, others with some of the older members of your family who simply needed a break from it all. Among them all, you were surprised to find Joel, enthusiastically talking to none other than your father.

Your father was probably one of the most difficult people in your life to impress. He’d maybe told you that he was proud of you a total of five times in your life. Yet, he looked content, hell, happy as he spoke to your fake boyfriend.

Part of you felt bad as you found your way to the empty spot on the couch next to Joel, but you were cold, and you weren’t going to pass up on the opportunity to warm up by the fire and the man that you had found was a bit of a human furnace.

When Joel caught sight of you, he smiled and beckoned you over, and you made quick work of maneuvering yourself past the coffee table between the couch. Once you sat down, Joel surprised you by greeting you with a gentle peck on the lips. The action temporarily shocked you, and you desperately hoped that the feeling was not reflected on your face. The naturalness of it all almost felt as if you’d done it a thousand times, and you tried your best to suppress the part of you that wanted to do it a thousand more.

“Hi honey,” Joel greeted you sweetly, his hand almost immediately finding yours. It all felt so right, and if you weren’t so endeared by him in the moment, you certainly would’ve been mildly panicking.

“It was nice meeting you, Joel, but I’m old and I’m tired, so I’m gonna head out,” your father explained, giving you a half nod as he began to stand up.

“Bye, dad. I’ll see you on Christmas?” you asked him, ignoring the panicked look that Joel was certainly sending your way.

“Sounds like a plan. Love you. Get home safe,” he bid the two of you farewell before leaving without much other fanfare.

“Why didn’t you tell me that was your dad?” Joel asked you, looking at you with wide eyes. You laughed a little bit at his panic, finding the dumbfounded look on his face more adorable than you’d like to admit.

“Thought it might’ve come up in conversation, or something,” you shrugged, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the day, mixed with the criminally strong punch set in. “Why do you care so much? Trying to make a good impression, Miller?” you teased.

“You’re the worst,” he groaned, then laughed as you snuggled up to his side. You weren’t exactly sure whether the laugh was coming from discomfort or relief, but with the bone-deep cold you were feeling and alcohol in your system, you couldn’t exactly bring yourself to care. “You’re also really cold. Are you okay?”

“Mmm, you’re really warm,” you replied, settling against his warm body unconsciously.

“Someone’s feeling the punch,” he replied, wrapping an arm around you as you closed your eyes.

“It was way stronger than it needed to be,” you agreed in a murmur against his sweater. “Thank you for being such a good fake boyfriend tonight.”

“It was actually pretty fun. I like your family a lot,” he confessed, trying his best to maintain eye contact with you despite the fact that you were in the express lane to dreamland and your blinks were beginning to turn into miniature naps.

“Everyone liked you too. I owe you,” you yawned, dropping your head from the soft fabric of his sweater to the denim of his jeans.

“Mhm. Wanna head home?” he asked.

“How’d you know?” you responded as Joel chuckled above you.

The ride back home was a mostly quiet one, with Christmas music playing softly on the radio and you dozing off in the passenger seat. Every now and then Joel glanced over at you, and the few times that your eyes were actually open, you wondered what it was that he was thinking. Was he checking up on you to make sure you were still alive? Probably. But you just swore there was something else in his eyes, something you’d seen when Ben looked at your sister, or when your parents looked at each other.

But that was probably just the exhaustion speaking.

Once you arrived at your sister’s place, Joel made quick work of helping you get inside safely, even helping you get to bed at your own insistence. Even in your not sober and exhausted state, you knew that you didn’t want the night to end. Even in your less than ideal state of mind, you knew that the way you were feeling about Joel was unsustainable.

—

The soft, dim lighting of a restaurant that felt fancy even for you seemed to beam down on you, encouraging little beads of sweat to collect at your forehead and the creases of your arms. As much as you were desperately trying to maintain the appearance of being cool and collected, your staccato breaths, wobbly smile, and the rapidly appearing perspiration were quite clearly selling you out. You couldn’t help but to stare down at your menu like it was the most interesting thing in the world, the intimidation of sitting across from your fake partner’s ex-wife’s heated glare far more intense than what you’d expected. Far worse than sharing a brief, yet artificial moment of PDA in a grocery store, and far more than you expected to be able to handle. Yet, Joel had done the same for you, and really, it was only fair that you would do the same.

After the Christmas party, you hadn’t really expected to hear anything else from your date. As far as you knew, Joel had only agreed to play pretend with you for one night, and as fun as that night was, it was all fake.

As much as you hated to admit it, your sister was maybe, just a little bit right about the whole ordeal not being your best idea. You couldn’t help but think about the two of you at the party—how he’d held your hand like your hands were two pieces of a puzzle that were made for each other, how he cuddled with you on the couch and looked at you with such genuine concern when he thought you might not be well, but above all, you were stuck on his confession to you, about how beautiful you looked and how scared he was to tell you.

You couldn’t believe that you were still making these kinds of stupid decisions, the type of decisions that made you want to lay in bed all day with a pint of ice cream and a soap opera playing on the revision, and not do work—the very work that you came back to Austin to do.

But despite your urge to shut down, you tried your absolute best to do what you set out to do. You spent hours tossing ingredients in mixers, whipping egg whites into stiff peaks, and narrowly avoiding burning yourself as you took trays out of the oven. Only at the end of the day, as you wiped your forehead with a flour-covered arm and checked your phone did you realize that you’d missed a call from Joel.

After a quick call-back and an explanation to your sister that you would no longer be third wheeling the night’s tree-lighting ceremony with her, you had somehow managed to renew your little agreement with Joel. Your task being a performance of being the perfect, dream girlfriend to Joel Miller, a task that you hoped you would be up for.

But as you sat at the table next to Joel, nearly sweating your mascara off, you began to question the extent of your capabilities within this particular role.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Naomi began, the sharp wing of her eyeliner and the depths of her eyes feeling like they were poking and prodding into you, searching for any weakness or insecurity to be exploited. “What are you up to these days?”

“Well, apart from making the most of my time with Joel,” you looked over at him with what you hoped appeared to be adoration, but probably came across more accurately as the fear you were experiencing, and grabbed his bicep–what you hoped to appear like a fond move, but was something more like you bracing onto him for dear life. “I’m a consultant in New York City. It definitely takes up a lot of my time, but it also feels like every second of free time I have, I’m spending it on the phone with this one.”

You and Joel chuckled, your choked out laugh feeling far more artificial than his. You hoped to whatever powers above that you would somehow manage to convince the couple across from you to believe a story that you could barely even believe yourself, although, with the way that Naomi was still glaring at you, you doubted that being the case.

“That sounds fun,” she replied, leaning forward slightly as if she was ready to sink her teeth into you two and absolutely tear you apart. “So how’d you two reconnect?”

Joel, clearly sensing your discomfort, came to your rescue with a quick, preplanned answer. “Remember when I took Sarah to Manhattan earlier this year?” Joel began, averting his gaze from you and onto his ex, who now shot Joel a pleasant, yet, rehearsed smile.

“Mhm,” she replied, seemingly already entertained by where the story might end up going.

“Well, we ran into each other at a coffee shop a few blocks away from her workplace and really just hit it off. The rest is history,” he said, turning his attention back towards you.

“You two were hitting it off in front of our daughter?” Naomi asked, the slight tilt to her head and hint of smirk on her face revealing that her question was less out of concern for their child, and more out of taking an opportunity to antagonize the two of you.

“It was more like reconnecting. I swear, Joel is the only person in the world to think that recommending my favorite bagel shop in the city is flirting,” you attempted to save, not wanting to be labeled as a threat to their child just a few minutes into dinner.

“To my credit, you were selling it pretty hard. You were practically saying, ‘come with me to get bagels tomorrow,’” Joel added on, seemingly lighting up as the two of you added more and more to your fake meet-cute.

“Next time you visit we’ll get all the bagels you want, my love. We can even split them Lady and The Tramp style,” you giggled, feeling your cheeks warm as you imagined you and Joel at the opposite ends of one cream cheese filled bagel.

“Okay, yeah, I get it. I was just joking, anyway,” she replied, clearly fed up with the two of you.

“Sorry,” you apologized, actually feeling a little bad about how long your little bit had gone on. “What about you two? How’d you and Henry meet?”

“It’s actually a pretty cute story,” Henry spoke up after being a passive spectator for an uncomfortable period of time. “Noms had just moved out west a little bit after the divorce, and the two of us met in a yoga class. I accidentally took her yoga mat, and it was… what did you say earlier? The rest was history?”

The two of them shared an intimate laugh, one that indicated that they were referencing some sort of inside joke, just as you and Joel had earlier after you’d shared what you’d been doing with your life since high school. You glanced over at Joel, his pressed smile and slightly furrowed brows a clear indicator that he was not impressed by the two of them. Thankfully, before the tension could go any further, a kind waitress interrupted the conversation with the simple question of whether or not your table was ready to order.

Shortly after ordering, the conversation picked up once again. While you occasionally were able to ask a question or two about the couple sitting across from you, it above all felt like you and Joel were being interrogated about the nature of your relationship. Lies easily flowed from both of your tongues, sandwiched between fond looks shared between the two of you as if there was no one else in the room, and stolen moments of physical affection that seemed to warm you from the inside-out.

As the two of you added more and more onto your story, the more you began to yearn for the more intricate details of it all to be true.

You wanted to receive a bouquet of flowers on your doorstep from someone almost two-thousand miles from you, just because he’d been thinking about you. You wanted to have a reason to come back and visit the city you grew up in, and to learn about every new hole-in-the-wall shop that had come to mean a lot to him. You wanted to take on his hobbies, and have him take on some of yours despite you both being terrible at them, solely because you knew that the other cared about it. The longer the night went on, the clearer everything became: you wanted all of this and more with Joel, but you’d clearly never be able to have him.

It was no longer a question to you of if your arrangement should end, and had clearly become a matter of when it was going to end. No matter how much fun you were having holding Joel’s hand under the table and feeding the man next to you bites of scallop, you knew it wasn’t sustainable to be feeling so strongly about a situation that had been doomed from the start.

You were undoubtedly treading a very thin line between getting your hopes up for what wasn’t, but could be, and savoring every last second you had with Joel, pretending to be something that the two of you were very obviously not. With the arrival and passing of dessert, and the final spoonfuls of a split chocolate cake, you’d realized that your time with Joel had ended; a conclusion as bitter as the dark chocolate garnish on your shared plate.

The two of you held hands once more as you walked out to his car, fingers lingering together even after the couple you’d been putting a show on were safely tucked away in their own vehicle. You didn’t talk much on your ride back home, the air thick with a tension that made you wonder if Joel had come to a similar conclusion of his own during dinner. The radio filled in the silence where words lacked, covers of Christmas songs filling in for the conversation that surely should’ve been occurring.

After a ride that felt like it had lasted forever and no time at all, you had finally arrived at your sister’s place, the final resting ground for whatever your relationship had been.

“Thanks,” you said as you unclipped your seatbelt, wanting to rip the bandaid off and leave as quickly as humanly possible, while also lingering in his car forever. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah,” he looked at you for a moment as if he had something more to say, but was holding his tongue. Taking one long look at your face, then offering you a weak half smile, he spoke once more. “You too.”

Though you were mildly disappointed when you didn’t hear back from Joel, you couldn’t say that you were particularly surprised. Everything about your final encounter in his truck indicated that the very brief chapter in both of your lives of pretending to be what you both were not was over. Still, you couldn’t deny the remnant ache in your chest when your father asked where your boyfriend was over Christmas dinner, or the pathetic way that you secretly hoped every ring of the bakery door would deliver you Joel Miller, much like your first day back in Austin did.

Once again, you attempted to drown yourself in your work, working from open to close at your sister’s bakery and ending the day with sore legs, flour in your hair, and an intense desire to never consume anything sweet ever again. You somehow even managed to convince your boss to let you clock a few virtual hours at your actual job, spending all of the time that you were not at the bakery in your temporary bedroom, doing whatever tasks would set you ahead by the time you returned to work.

You realized you weren’t being particularly subtle with the fact that you were trying to distract yourself from something, and while your sister did her best to be whatever it was that you needed during such a bizarre time, she didn’t exactly press, though you were sure she had a bit of an idea of what was making you feel so down.

“Hey, I have a catering job for us,” she informed you one morning as the two of you worked side-by-side.

“When? You remember I’m leaving tomorrow, right?” you sighed, hoping your sister recognized your mild annoyance as less with her, and more with your time in Austin as a whole. You desperately wanted to leave, but you’d promised to stay until the new year began, when orders typically began to slow down. (“Resolutions,” she told you over the phone as you prepared to come back home.)

“Of course I remember,” she shook her head playfully as she spoke to you. “It’s tonight. At the Spoke. They’re doing some New Year’s Eve thing, and I think it’ll be fun.”

“I think maybe we have two different definitions of fun,” you commented, continuing to roll out the piece of dough in front of you.

“Oh, come on. What were you going to be doing anyway?” she pressed you, her attempt to get you to get out of the house clear as day now. “Working in your bedroom during your break? Sulking for reasons you refuse to share with me? Watching episodes of The Bachelor that you’ve seen a hundred times already?”

“Ugh, okay, okay. I’ll do it. We’ll do it,” you finally conceded.

“Good! Now, do you want a coffee? We’re gonna have a lot of trays to finish today.”

You couldn’t deny that it made you feel a little bit better knowing that you had somewhere fun to go that night. Despite living in Texas for the first portion of your life, you’d never had the opportunity to go to any sort of dance hall, and though you’d probably be spending the majority of your time distributing cupcakes to people, you were excited to be doing something fun regardless.

After your longest and final shift at the bakery, your sister hugged you as tight as she could manage and thanked you for everything you’d helped her accomplish this holiday season, before sending you back home to get dressed up for the dance hall. After deciding to go full cowgirl with your attire, you peered in your sibling’s closet for any article of clothing that you could borrow for the night, and ultimately left her closet with a completely different wardrobe.

Even as you and your sister arrived at the dance hall early to set up, patrons were already beginning to flood into the venue. Their excited energy was contagious, and you couldn’t help but feel invigorated, your downtrodden feelings being replaced with much more positive ones.

As the night went on, you found yourself having more and more fun, whether it was from distributing pastries to rosy-cheeked dancers who paused to take a break from the floor, or flirty gentlemen who took the brief moment of your fingers touching over a distributed cupcake to ask to buy you a drink. While you were sure that you would’ve had a decent time doing nothing at home, then popping a bottle of champagne at midnight, the night was certainly shaping up to be a memorable one.

Time seemed to be flying by as you stood by the table, offering cupcakes to whoever passed you by. It wasn’t long before Ben arrived, and your sister was excusing herself from the table to share a dance with her partner. You watched the two of them with adoration, thinking of how you would love to have someone to come sweep you off your feet and offer to dance with you–well, someone other than a sweaty patron. As much as you’d tried to convince yourself over the years that you weren’t cut out for relationships, your trip and weird fake dating arrangement with Joel had made you realize something of the opposite. Maybe you’d be ringing in the New Year with a Hinge download.

After passing out the final cupcake you had, you began to break down boxes and put away some of the other items you’d brought to help the distribution process go more smoothly. With your back turned to the dance floor as you dropped leftover napkins into a plastic bag, you were surprised as you heard a familiar voice greet you from behind.

“Joel?” you said as you looked up at the patiently waiting person, surprised to see his face after such an abrupt ending and a period of radio silence between the two of you.

“Hi,” he said, almost shyly.

“Hi. Sorry, we just ran out of cupcakes” you stated, trying to pretend that things were business as usual between the two of you–whatever business as usual meant now.

“I don’t…” Joel trailed off before ditching the idea altogether, surely figuring that whatever he had to say was more important than an explanation of how he was uninterested in the treats you were serving. “Can we talk?”

“I mean,” you hesitated for a moment, wondering if it would be better to avoid everything altogether and simply move on with your life. You could simply tell him no, hop on a plane the following afternoon, then never think about Joel again. It would all be so simple and easy–the exact opposite of what your relationship had spiraled into during your time back in Austin. “Yeah. Sure. Let’s talk.”

The truth was, as easy as you would’ve liked it to be, you were intrigued by Joel’s nervous body language. As he shifted from foot to foot and subtly picked at his hand, you imagined him walking into the hall with his friends, or whoever it was that he came with, seeing you, and immediately going to leave the venue, only staying from the coercion and peer pressure of his peers. You imagined him spending the night working up the nerve to come say to you what was left unspoken the last time the two of you talked, hoping that the beers in his system and all of the dancing would finally get enough jitters out of him to finally address you.

“I’m all ears,” you shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest in a subconscious protective measure. Even though he could do no physical harm to you, your brain was all too aware of the damage he’d done to your heart in the past.

“I’m sorry. For everything. For not reaching out to you after our dinner, and for being an oblivious idiot in high school. And I guess, for being an oblivious idiot now,” he began to blather, glancing down nervously at his shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

You were surprised by his words and slightly unsure of what to say, or even think in response. Now that you had heard his apology, you were beginning to have an idea of the direction that this confession was likely going to take, and you couldn’t tell if you should be leaping for joy or finding the nearest exit. Maybe you could figure out a way to do both, jumping and skipping as you left through the fire exit.

Joel began to search for his next words and you tried to ignore the racing heartbeat in your chest as you attempted to search for your own. Just when you were thinking that it would be impossible for your situation to get any more uncomfortable, a man slightly shorter than Joel and who oddly resembled him sauntered up to the table where the two of you were attempting to speak.

“It’s gonna be twelve soon! Come dance!” the man shouted at Joel, his accent heavy and his words slurred as he grabbed onto Joel’s flannel sleeve. Joel shot him a dirty look, one that clearly communicated his annoyance, but didn’t exactly scream surprised.

“Not now, Tommy,” Joel reprimanded, his gritted teeth and tense demeanor making you want to laugh–if not for his reaction, then over the surrealistic nature of the scene. Mere moments into some sort of apology or confession, the two of you had been interrupted by his intoxicated acquaintance asking him to dance.

“Yes now, Joel. C’mon, lighten up!” the man practically whined, eliciting an exasperated eye roll from Joel. He looked back at you with tense shoulders and worry in his eyes, and you couldn’t exactly tell if he was looking for backup or sympathy. Instead of responding to him with either, you gave him a shy shrug of approval.

“We can talk while we dance?” you suggested, part of you hoping that maybe the distraction of doing something else while you spoke would make your conversation a little less difficult.

Taking Joel’s hand, you followed the men out to the dance floor, where Tommy had disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared to interrupt Joel’s confession. Part of you wondered if this had been premeditated, or if Joel’s drunk friend was simply not able to read the room.

“Before we start, I have a confession of my own,” you began, hoping that what you were about to say would at least lighten up the mood of your conversation. Clearly, the two of you struggled with communicating your feelings, and you hoped sharing what you were prepared to share would at least be helpful in opening up a line of communication.

“Yeah?” he said hopefully. You tried your best to fight the smile that was threatening to appear on your face at the sound of his tone, but ultimately failed.

“I don’t have a damn clue how to do this,” you confessed, glancing over at the pairings around you moving together as if they had done these steps a million times–and knowing your town, they probably had.

“It’s fine,” he said without an ounce of judgment in his voice. “I’ll teach you how.”

And he did, his mouth pressed closely to your ear as he counted off numbers in time with the live band just a few feet away from you, and directed your body left, right, back, and forward until you finally seemed to get the hang of the dance. Though there was still an elephant remaining in the room, dancing seemed to be successful in alleviating some of the tension that lingered.

“Is it okay if we continue our conversation?” Joel asked as the two of you took a synchronized step back. Your eyes were trained on your nearly matching boots, and the thought of having to face your feelings–or the lack thereof–made your stomach churn. Once again, you began to consider the most efficient exit routes.

“Of course,” you replied, doing your best to mask the nerves that had bubbled right back up as you finally met his eye.

“I was so excited to see you, when I found out you were back in town. I guess there was still part of me that wondered what things might have been like if things were different. Then I saw you in the store, and we started doing… whatever we were doing, and I just kept wanting more. It just felt so real, too real, and I started wanting more than what I could have. I mean, you live so far away, and even if you didn’t, I’m sure you have romantic prospects all over the place. Why would you settle for me?”

You almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Joel still thought about you? He had begun to want more in the same way that you did the more your fake relationship progressed? He thought he wasn’t good enough for you?

“Joel-” you began, his name slipping off your tongue involuntarily. You desperately wanted to dispute his claims, but he didn't let you finish.

“I guess I just wanted to apologize for how I acted. I didn’t want you to assume that things ended how they ended for any other reason other than me making terrible decisions as usual.” Once again, it was Joel’s turn to look uncomfortable, and you couldn’t exactly blame him after what he shared with you.

“I accept your apology, but it wasn’t all your fault. And you’re not an idiot,” you clarified in between a spin, finishing your sentence as Joel pulled you back to him. “I was disappointed, but I understood. Honestly, I was starting to feel the same way with you. Our fake dating was starting to feel a little too much like real dating, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up when you were clearly uninterested.”

“But I’m not uninterested,” Joel looked at you with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, which only seemed to be highlighted by the fact that his arm was draped across your torso, a welcome result of the spinning move. “I want to try, if you want to try. The distance is a hurdle, but we can give it a shot, at the very least. We can visit each other when we get the chance. We can watch the same episodes of The Bachelor, then discuss it afterward.”

“Oh my god, who told you about that?” you remarked, interrupting his big speech.

“Your sister. At the Christmas party,” Joel replied, his cheeks flush with the adrenaline of sharing his feelings with you and the excitement of dreaming of a future with you.

“She’s unbelievable,” you murmured, shaking your head the slightest bit before Joel continued.

“But that’s besides the point. We can send each other delivered gifts, and can talk to each other every day, like what you told Naomi.”

“What I told her when I was lying?” you asked with a laugh, reminiscing on your dinner.

“Well, yeah… But it doesn’t have to be a lie. I can come visit you, and you can come visit me. We can get bagels at your favorite shop when I come to the city. I can teach you how to dance when you come to Austin. Maybe it’s crazy, but I think we can try. Should try.”

“I would like nothing more than that,” you confessed, an honest truth that seemed to light you up from the inside. Hearing Joel’s almost crazed rant about how passionate he was about trying made you a little less afraid of your possible future together, and a whole lot more sure about your feelings for the man.

“Then let’s do it. Let’s do it right this time,” he said as the music finally came to a conclusion, being swapped out for none other than the chant of a countdown.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

As cheers of ‘Happy New Years’ rang out, Joel gently directed your face towards his, your noses and foreheads pleasantly bumping into each other. As your lips finally touched, it felt as if two puzzle pieces designed for each other and meant to be together had finally fallen into place, the rumble of fireworks outside celebrating the long-awaited union between the two of your bodies.

In the past, the affection the two of you had shared had felt real, but deep down you were aware that it was nothing more than a farce. A façade to trick judgmental exes and prying family members. But this time, the affection was different.

The growing warm feeling in your chest, the electric sparks on your skin where Joel was touching you, and the look of admiration in his eyes once you’d finally pulled away told you everything you needed to know.

This was real.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou

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cult-of-husbandos · 5 months

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karasuda ren [soft!yandere] - All I Want For Christmas Is A Cute Yandere!

synopsis: you're spending another Christmas alone. there's only one thing you want and there's only one person who can make it happen. but, shenanigans occur!

genre: a little crackish, fluff, holiday love

word count: 6.29k

warnings: binge drinking, kidnapping, a little claustrophobia

Ahh, Christmas Eve. The most festive and romantic time of year. The city has never looked so bright and beautiful than when it’s decorated with wreaths and tinsel on every pole and building and fairy lights illuminating a soft glow of the pillowy snowy streets of your city. Not to mention the sights and sounds that sing this otherwise boring, claustrophobic place into jolly merriment. The delicious smells of bakeries and restaurants serving cakes and pies and nauseatingly sugary Christmas cookies. Buskers singing Christmas songs to afford a decent meal. Last minute idiots scrounging the shelves in stores and causing scenes to get that one important present or Christmas is ruined. Families walking with their children with excitement on their faces about what Santa will bring them tonight. Happy couples walking hand in hand and sharing hot cocoa and sweet treats before they get home. Retail workers resisting the urge to shoot themselves when Mariah Carey’s winter album plays for 6667th time that day.

Yes, it seems that everyone was in a rush to get home to be with that special somebody tonight.

EXCEPT FOR YOU!

Day after day. Year after year. Holiday after fucking holiday!

Seriously! It should be against the fucking law to have to work on Christmas Eve. Especially, when the workplace is complete ass and your coworkers take turns using the singular brain cell that seems to float aimlessly around the office. When you were just a fresh newbie, you used to blame your singleness on your work. ‘I don’t have the time right now, I should try when I get used to the environment.’ That was your thought process. But, now you know that it was all complete horseshit! The real reason you can’t make time for anything, let alone a relationship, is because your boss and your coworkers are required by the laws of fate and destiny to cockblock you until you’re that old Karen calling the cops on your neighbors for having too bright lights in their yard. When you first got hired, you promised that you wouldn’t become like the old greedy ladies at your work that glared at the smallest hint of happiness and bitched about it on their ‘Moms Against…’ Facebook groups.

Yet, here you are. Hours before Christmas, shuffling home like a morally depleted penguin hating every single happy and smiling face you came across. Even the forced ones.

As you trudged through the dirt clodded snowy and slippery as hell sidewalk, you couldn’t help but unintentionally glare at every single couple you passed by. Happy smiles adorned their faces as they shared intimate kisses and huddled together for warmth. You tried not to gag or roll your eyes because it wasn’t really their fault. They were just enjoying the festivities and snow. You on the other hand are huddled into yourself trying not to bust your ass in the middle of a public street and quickly get home so you can rip off your shoes that were sopping wet and nearing frostbite from the slushy snow penetrating your shoes.

To be honest, the last place you wanted to be at was your apartment. You sigh to yourself in disappointment knowing what’s waiting for you: Nothing. In particular, no one. As stated before, day after day, year after year, holiday after freaking holiday, all that awaits you is a cold, empty apartment with comfort items and furniture that you either bought off of Amazon or got off the streets. No one would be waiting for you except the inescapable loneliness that you felt every day. Your plans are the same as last year’s, and the year before that, and the year before that, and so on and so forth. You’ll get home, take a lukewarm shower because your plumbing is always busted around this time of year, drink a 1/5th of Holly Jolly Krinkles Peppermint Vodka, and pass out watching the Polar Express on Hulu. Then, wake up Christmas afternoon and try not to throw up the rest of the day. Your ancestors must be so proud staring down at you after generations of their own hardship.

Peeking up from your huddled form you spot your apartment complex up ahead. You sigh again feeling the need for a drink. As you hurriedly jogged up the stairs and rushed to your door, you slowed to a halt as you saw a bottle sitting on your doormat. Titling your head in confusion, you looked around for any clues on who could’ve left this on your door. Cautiously, you picked up the suspicious bottle and felt that it was heavy and filled with liquid. A white and red envelope fell onto the mat and you picked it up as well. The envelope had your name addressed to it, but nothing else. You looked back at the bottle and squinted into the dark to read the label on the front. In the dark you could only make out ‘Feeling Pine Mulled Wine.’ You groaned at the pun. On top of the cork you noticed a green ribbon tied along with a small folded note. Inside the card read, “For you, from Santa Claus~♡”.

“Santa Claus…?” you muttered to yourself. You scoff and think of this as nothing more than corporate shilling and shameless advertisement to get people to spend even more money on this capitalist holiday. Everyone in the building must’ve gotten a bottle and since you got home late you’re the only one left. Shivering harshly as a chilling breeze rushed through you, you quickly shot into your apartment. Like a defeated animal, you ripped off every single piece of wet clothing and left it near your front door for ‘hungover you’ to worry about. Placing the mulled wine on the kitchen counter to worry about later you jogged to the bathroom for your shower. Second to drinking yourself to sleep, you looked forward to your shower the most. Flipping your shower nozzle to the highest setting, you jumped in and hopped around as the blizzard water hit your skin. You shivered as you rubbed soap aggressively on your body waiting for the lukewarm water to set in. After a few minutes, the water didn’t change. You waited a few more minutes and the water was still cold?! All of the frustration and anger bottling up inside you finally popped.

“AAAARRGGHHHH!!!” You screamed with all your might. Your screams bounced around your echo-ey bathroom as your next-door neighbor banged on your wall. You banged the wall back even harder out of frustration. What kind of shitty development is this?! You are a good person! Why is it that whenever something good happens to you someone shits all over you?! Who did you kill in your past life to warrant this sharknado level shitstorm that is your adult life?

“God-fucking-DAMMITT! I hate this shitty building and its shitty pipes and its shitty… shitty shit shit!!” You stomped as you frustratingly shut off the shower. Again, you’re reminded of your paper thin walls as your next door neighbor banged on your wall even harder. Completely fed up with everything, you punched and kicked at your wall with all your might.

“Evan Christopher Daniels, you motherfucker! I swear to God, you bang on this wall one more FUCKING time! I’m calling the landlord and telling him all about your basement cock fighting ring and we BOTH know we aren’t talking about chickens!”

The banging immediately stopped. You huffed and leaned against the cold tile wall. You needed a drink more than ever, but you did feel a little better after yelling. Walking out of the bathroom in your towel, your attention is brought back to the wine bottle and envelope. Staring at the wine bottle and label again in a better light you didn’t see anything wrong with it. Nothing obvious at least. So, with a shrug and popped the cork.

“Better than that shitty minty vodka…” you muttered.

*****

“A-And then… that Chevy-back refrigerator built asshole had the nerve to put his dirty face next to mine and breathe his hot Frito-shit pie breath all over me! Can you believe that?!”

You were venting. You were venting and drunk. You were venting, drunk, and talking to the only thing that brought you solace in this cruel time of joyful merriment: the characters on screen from the movie you were watching.

Wow. How sad.

“‘This is no good, Y/N.’ ‘You should try harder, Y/N.’ ‘How ‘bout spending Christmas stuck to my bed sheets, Y/N.’ How about you get the fuck outta my face, fix your hairline and get veneers you shitty generic ugly bastard-looking McFuck!!”

You sprawled out on the floor, sloppy lamenting over your life and where you could have possibly gone wrong.

“Why is it that whenever I get hit on, it’s either from creeps on the subway or fat geriatrics with greasy foreheads that get off on power harassment?” you ask your screen.

“‘Cause that’s the way things happen on the Polar Express!’”

You clicked your tongue and grumbled, “I wish I was on the Polar Express…” you spared a glance to your empty apartment. “Better than being here alone…” You took another drink from your bottle and set it down beside you. “This is good… I’ll have to drink this shit all-year round.”

As you silently surveyed your surroundings as the movie continued in the background, your eyes were drawn to the unopened letter that came with your wine. With a grunt and a sigh, you reached over to pick up predicting that it’s mostly like a Christmas themed advertisement for the company. However, instead was a Christmas portrait card. You opened the card and read the beautiful cursive that was inside.

“Wish upon the brightest star in the sky and your deepest wish will come true.”

You read the words over and over again. ‘Wish upon a star?’ you thought incredulously. What good would that do? You looked on each side of the card but there wasn’t anything else, not even a signature. The handwriting on the Christmas card didn’t match the note on the cork either. You scoffed after a while and flicked the card back on the floor.

“Deepest wish will come true…” you grumbled softly. “That’s only something a child would believe in.”

“‘Seeing is believing, but, sometimes, the most real things in the world are the things we can't see.’”

Your attention was brought back to your movie and the words that stood out by the conductor. Wait… was the movie playing out of order?

“Seeing is believing, huh?” you muttered to yourself. You looked to your bedroom window. Snow gracefully falling from the night sky down to the bright city lights from under your window. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was just a plane, but there in the cloudy night you spotted a single light that penetrated the clouds. Again the words on the card rang through your mind like church bells, or maybe those were just the bells from the movie.

“Meh, fuck it.” You were already drunk and alone. Might as well do something embarrassing in the comfort of your own home than in a bar full of equally lonely people, right?

You crawled your way towards the window and sat on your knees. You already knew what your deepest wish was. You wished for it every holiday: your birthday, Valentine’s Day, hell, even Arbor Day. But, who should you even be praying to to make the wish come true? Santa Claus? God? Buddha? David Bowie? No, there’s only one person who could make a wish like this come true. Someone who you've never prayed to. Someone who could make your dream a reality.

“Oh, Supreme Lord Master Gege Akutami,” you called out. “I know I’ve never prayed to you before, but you’re a man that can make miracles happen. You’re the only one I know that can make my wish come true. The only thing that I want for Christmas is…” you took a deep breath.

“All I want is a super cute yandere boyfriend!”

You can’t be serious.

“I’ve seen your creations Oh Heavenly One and I know you can make that happen. The gorgeous men and women from your manga are only just as beautiful and holy as the animated versions! But not just an old yandere will do! I want a super cute one! The kind of yandere that feed, spoil, and give their unwavering love and affection to the MC! The kind of yandere that will only keep me to himself so I don’t have to work at my shitty job anymore.”

Oh you are dead serious, aren’t you?

“He has to have a cute smile, gorgeous eyes, and soft kissable lips! And he has to be taller than me, but not too tall! Just the right amount of height where I can give him headpats and forehead kisses and when he lays down on my lap only his feet go over the couch arms, not his legs! Also, I want him to have a nice build, not too skinny and lanky. I’ve seen the kind of men you’ve brought to light so I know you can make it work Oh Great One.”

Oh dear lord…

“And he has to know everything about me! Like super omega obsessed with me, but in a cute way that makes it hard to be mad at him. Oh, and extroverted as hell to counterout my introvertedness! Like the type of person who will go up to the fast food worker and tell them that I wanted no pickles on the burger! Y’know, and also…”

Okay, I’m gonna cut the rest of this drunken otaku rambling for the future therapy you’ll be court mandated to attend.

“Please, Lord Gege… if not you then… I don’t know what else I’m gonna do.” You squeeze your fist tighter and close your eyes shut as a last ditch effort. “Please make my deepest wish come true.”

You slowly opened your eyes to see nothing in the sky anymore. Nothing but dark snowy clouds. You let out a pitiful chuckle as you felt tears brimming your eyes.

“What the hell am I doing…?” you whispered. “I am so fucking pathetic…” Maybe it was just a stupid plane after all. You meekly crawled back to your spot on the floor and layed down a few inches away from your laptop. The movie was still playing and the time read “12:01 A.M.”. It was officially Christmas. And today, just like every Christmas, you were drunk and alone. The sounds of actual church bells rang throughout your room from the outside. You lazily stared at the movie that was nearing its end.

“‘Just remember, the true spirit of Christmas lies in your heart.’”

‘Santa Claus… Christmas… wishing… it’s all a bunch of shit…’

As you felt your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, you soon gave into your tiredness praying that your hangover in the morning wouldn’t be too bad.

*****

Rustle… Rustle… THUD!

You are jolted awake at the sound of a large thudding sound coming from outside your bedroom door. Bleary-eyed, you check the time on your phone. It was 3 A.M.. Thinking it was just your neighbors, you laid back down on the cold hard floor. Until, a few seconds later, you are woken up again this time with a large bang.

Okay, that sounded way too close to be your neighbor. Someone was definitely in your apartment. You carefully snuck over to your bedroom door and pressed your ear against it. You couldn’t hear any voices (which makes sense), all you could hear was the sounds of something rustling.Are you actually getting robbed?! On fucking Christmas?! Oh hell no! Fueled with drunken courage and hazy eyes, you grabbed the empty wine bottle and quietly snuck out of your room. Peeking around the corner, you saw a tall, dark figure looming in your living room. You quickly flipped on the lights and jumped from around the corner raising the bottle above your head, ready to smack a bitch if they tried to run.

“Alright! Who the fuck are–!”

You stopped dead in your tracks and the wine bottle you held tightly in your hands dropped to the floor with a solid thud. The man standing in your living room, staring you dead in your eyes like a deer caught in headlights of a lifted Ford truck, was wearing a vibrant red suit complete with black boots, white gloves, and a red had, had a long, fluffy white beard, a large white bag filled to the brim with wrapped presents, and twinkling blue eyes. You felt your breath catch in your throat. It was unmistakable.

“Santa Claus…?” you groggily called out.

The man’s face turned from caution to jolly in a matter of seconds as he let out his signature laugh.

“Ho ho ho!” he bellowed. “Well, this is odd! Shouldn’t all the little good boys and girls be asleep right now?”

“I… I was asleep… I-I think your bag woke me up when you set it down…”

“Ah! Of course! I was looking for your Christmas tree, but I can’t seem to find one. So, I was wondering where to leave your presents!”

“I don’t have a Christmas tree. I couldn’t afford one this year…” you told him, folding your arms. Wait. Why were you telling him anything?! This has to be a dream. Yes, just a drunk dream. There’s no way you could be talking to some strange man dressed as Santa Claus right now.

“I see… How unfortunate. Life must be so tough for you, Y/N L/N.”

Your eyes widened. “H-How do you know my name?”

Again, “Santa Claus”'s laugh rang throughout your tiny living room.

“Santa knows all the good boys and girls! And you have been extra good this year!” he exclaimed. He bent down and started rummaging through his bag as if he was looking for something.

Your attention snapped to your front door. You were sure that you had locked it. Squinting, you didn’t notice anything strange about it. The deadbolt was still locked. It wasn’t even left open for a clean getaway if this were an actual robbery or even a dream. None of your windows open, they’re more like decoration. It’s brutal in the summer when the building’s AC stops randomly. So how did–

“How did you get in my apartment?”

“Santa Claus” stopped searching through his bag, but didn’t look up at you. He just… stared down into it like he didn’t want to make conversation with you.

“I don’t have a chimney. This low-rated rat hole would never give such a luxury. Plus, none of the windows open. I locked my door with a deadbolt so I would’ve definitely heard you if you had tried breaking in through the front door, not while you were looking around for a Christmas tree so… how did you get in here?”

You could feel the tension rising as silence choked the jolly air around him. After a moment, the man raised his head to look at you. You felt your blood run cold. He was smiling, but his eyes… no longer had that same twinkle in them like before.

“How do you think I got in here?” he asked stiffly. Shivers rolled down your spine and you couldn’t bring yourself to speak a word. The man laughed again, but not his silly jolly laugh. It was more rigid and harsh. “I’m Santa Claus. Even if homes don’t have a chimney… I can still find my way in.”

‘Okay! I’m done with this dream now! I’d like to wake up! Wake up, me! Wake up!’

But, nothing changed. If this were a dream, something anxiety inducing would’ve happened by now. Like Santa Claus melting or turning into an eldritch monster. The air felt like it was suffocating you ever so slowly as your heart started to beat faster and faster.

“You look like you don’t believe me.” You jumped at his voice. He smiled even brighter and pointed the opening of his gift bag towards you. “Why don’t you see for yourself. I have a present here just for you.”

You swallowed hard. “A-A present…? But I–” You could barely stutter out a sentence before he spoke again.

“It’s what you deeply wished for.”

Your eyes widened again. Those choice of words… It couldn’t have been an accident. How would he… unless he…

You found yourself slowly inching towards the gift bag. It felt like an out-of-body experience. Like watching a first-person POV of someone doing something extremely stupid. As you stopped mere inches from the bag, you peered inside to see nothing but an almost seemingly amount of presents that ranged from big to small throughout the bag. Just as you tried to peek down further into the bag, you felt a large gloved hand grab the back of your neck.

“Sorry kid. No witnesses.”

Before you could utter a word or scream in shock, you are unceremoniously shoved into Santa's bulging sack of gifts. As the bag closed tight above you, your panic-filled mind finally kicked in as you screamed and thrashed around the bag. However, the more you screamed and kicked, the more the weight and closeness of the presents started to crush around you. This set in more panic and then more kicking and screaming.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be all over soon.”

‘What?! What does that mean?!’ You continued to scream and clawed at the walls of the bag to try and rip through. With a sudden jerk motion, you were lifted into the air and the bag was thrown over the man’s shoulder causing what seemed like a hurricane of presents to rain down on you. As you tried to kick up towards the opening again, you left out a gasp when your foot hit nothing. The more you kicked the more you stuffed yourself down the ocean of presents currently crushing you from all sides. When you tried to reach out to the side to claw at the bag again, you again found nothing. And again, the more you tried to reach, the more your arms got stuck wedged against the weight and size of the presents. There seemed no end as the presents continued to suffocate you, pressing hard against your stomach, legs, head, and chest.

You felt your vision starting to blacken out and called out once more.

“Please… someone… help me…”

But, your voice was too low and soon, you did not speak again.

*****

Your eyes fluttered open to see nothing but darkness all around you. You let out a grunt as your head pounded harshly only to find out that your mouth had been taped shut.

‘What the fuck?’

You tried to take the tape off your mouth only to find your hands tied together.

‘What the fuck?’

You stretched out from your fetal only for feet to to hit a solid wall. Not only that, your feet were also bound together.

‘What the fuck?!’

You jerked up only for your head to meet a solid wall.

‘Ow! What the FUCK?!’

Your head pounded again and you laid back down trying to remember how you got in this situation. All you can remember is drinking your problems away and watching the Polar Express, and then… wishing on a plane in the sky…? And then Santa Claus showed up?

‘Ugh… fuck me… Did I sleepwalk into an empty plot again?’ You tried with all your might to try and bang on the walls of the box that you were currently in, but with this hangover all you were doing was making yourself tired and nauseous. You sighed with a huff. ‘I swear if I die in here, I’m gonna ghost sue these assholes…’

How long had you even been here? Were you even alive at this point? If you are, how long until the air in here runs out and you suffocate? Ugh… too many thoughts were making your head pound even more. Oh, what a tragic and pitiful end for our tragic and pitiful protagonist–

“Oh, wow! What a huge present!” a voice from outside shouted. You jolted in surprise. Who was that? And did they say present?

“I wonder what Santa got me~?” the voice asked melodically. Santa Claus? Wait, so… that wasn’t a dream?! The sounds of gift wrapping paper answered your question. You didn’t get super drunk and walk into a cemetery and crawl into a coffin like last time. You got super drunk and got stuffed into a giant Christmas present. You want to be disappointed with this development, but honestly you’ve found yourself in much worse situations than this. Like how on three Valentine’s Days ago you unknowingly joined a cannibal love nest cult when buying candy for yourself.

The lid of the box was aggressively thrown creaked open, revealing the most enchanting sight — you were surrounded and bathed in the glow of fairy lights. Blinking away the haze, you found yourself in an unfamiliar room, illuminated by soft, colorful lights and warm furniture. This place was definitely better than your dinky apartment. Your eyes then landed on the strikingly charming individual with the most captivating eyes you’ve ever seen and an endearing yet unsettling aura seeping from him. You felt your heart skip a beat as you locked eyes with the gorgeous hottie staring you down. His cute smile was twice as blinding as the dozen of lights surrounding the two of you.

“Looks like Santa got my letter. Just what I wanted for Christmas~.”

‘Holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshitholyshitsholyshitholyshit–’

“Homy shmpf! Phuu’re hmpf!” You tried to shout.

Blinking a few times, the hottie deliciously chuckled and reached for the tape around your mouth. “Lemme get that for you, sweetheart. Only if you promise not to scream.”

Oh please, like you’d scream in a situation like this.

“There you go–”

“Holy shit! You’re hot!” you shout again. “Whoa… this has to be a dream. There’s no way that I’m sitting in a human sized box in a hottie’s apartment. I gotta buy more of that wine.” you muttered to yourself. You felt a tiny pinch on your cheek and snapped out of your muttering to lock eyes with those gorgeous eyes again.

“Ow… that hurt…”

“Then you’re not dreaming, sweetheart.”

“Woah…” You reeled back into the box. “I’m actually sitting in a hottie’s apartment…”

He chuckled. “House, my love. Not an apartment.”

“House?”

“Yes.”

“Like a house house? Like with a mortgage and shit?”

“The house is fully paid off. My parents paid it off and handed it to me when they retired and moved.”

“For real?!” you gasped and gasped even harder at the sights behind him. “Are those Sanrio plushies?! And a 5-foot Rilakkuma bear?! A PS5, a polaroid camera, an Apple laptop?! What are you, loaded or something?!” you exclaimed in astonishment.

“Well, it’s true that I spared no expense getting this place ready.” he chuckled again. “After all, I spent a lot of time getting all this stuff ready just in time for you.”

“For me?”

“Of course. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t know what my girlfriend liked?”

You paused for a moment, soaking in his words. “Boyfriend…? Girlfriend?”

“That’s right.”

“You and me?”

“Yup.”

“Me and you?”

“Mhm!”

“You’re my boyfriend?”

“Yes, my love. I was getting a little impatient waiting to take you for myself. So, I asked Santa to deliver you to me.”

You couldn’t believe your ears and eyes. You wished upon a stupid star/plane, got kidnapped by Santa Claus, and got unwrapped by a gorgeous man that’s now your boyfriend.

“Where the hell have you been hiding, huh? If I knew a hottie like you was scoping me out all this time I would’ve delivered myself without the gag and restraints.”

The hottie paused for a moment and smiled again. It seems like your reaction to all this wasn’t what he was expecting. “I’ll untie you if you promise you won’t start trying to escape.”

You scoffed and handed him your bound hands. “Oh, please. Yeah, I’m gonna escape and run back to my 250 sq. ft. apartment with no hot water, no heating, and no one waiting for me that even notices I’m gone.”

The hottie laughed softly and began to untie your hands. “And trust me. I wasn’t hiding. I left you gifts every moment I got. However, whenever I saw you, you never had them.” After untying your hands, he gave you a sullen look. “Did you not like them?”

You rubbed your wrists and titled your head in confusion. “Gifts? I never got any gifts.”

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N. I’ve been leaving you gifts and small tokens for two years.”

“I’m not lying! If I had gotten anything from someone like you, I would’ve been here two years ago.” you defended. “Where did you leave them?”

“On your desk at work, on your doormat, in your mailbox! I placed them everywhere you could see.”

If you weren’t so hungover you’d scream your head off. “Ugh…! Oh my fucking God…” you grumbled angrily, lightly banging your head on the corner of the box. You knew it! Your coworkers were cock-blocking you from finding true love. “All my coworkers are conniving, evil, love-hating bitches! And my boss is a misogynistic, sexual power harasser. They probably threw those presents away when I wasn’t at my desk.”

Your new boyfriend’s eyes grew dark. “What about your apartment?”

“Ugh… those animals would steal chewed up gum after you spit it out. They probably stole it while I was out at work. And my mailbox got broken into 6 months after moving in. All my bills are on autopay.”

As your boyfriend’s face grew darker, his smile remained. “Well, it’s a good thing I told them you quit and got you out of that disgusting “apartment”.”

Your mouth dropped at his words.

“R-Really? So, my job?”

“You don’t need one. I make enough money to support 5 of you. Plus, everything you could ever want is here anyways.”

“My apartment?”

“Considering most of the things in your “apartment” came from the side of the road, just tell me and I’ll buy whatever needs replacing.”

You leaned in close. “And my boss?” you whispered.

He leaned in closer, both your noses touching. “Dead, if you want him to be.”

Holy shit. Let’s go over the list.

He is:

✔ Hot as fuck

✔ Obsessive

✔ Tall

✔ Built

✔ Has a cute smile

✔ Puppy face

✔ Not too overbearing

✔ Dommy

✔ Willing to support your lazy piece of shit lifestyle

✔ Owns a home

JACKPOT!!

“This is the BEST CHRISTMAS EVER!” you shouted, but immediately regretted it when a sharp throbbing pain pierced your head. You clutched your head, tenderly rubbing your temples.

“Woah, are you okay?” he gently asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a hangover…” you smiled wearily.

“I’ll get you some water and Ibuprofen. Wait here. Don’t move, okay?”

Again, you shot him a look that told him that you didn’t have anywhere to go.

“Oh, and uh, thanks… um…”

“Karasuda Ren. But you can only call me Ren, okay Y/N?”

“Okay, Ren.” you smiled. He smiled back at you and headed to the kitchen. You sat in the box looking around at the beautiful home filled with Ren’s things combined with the things you love. If you weren’t on cloud 9 right now, you would plan a vindictive revenge plan on your job. But, now you had nothing to worry about anymore. Your wish came true and he was even cuter than you could’ve possibly imagined.

“Oh!” Ren suddenly called out. “Since you might be hungover, you probably won’t be able to eat this cake I made huh?”

“Homemade cake?! I love– Woah?!” You shot up at just the word cake and fell out of the box and face first into the floor.

“My love! Are you okay?” Ren asked, rushing to you with a glass of water in his hand.

“Yep! I’m okay! I forgot that my feet are also tied up sooo… can you help me?”

Ren laughed and helped you back on your butt and began to untie your feet. After that, he handed you the water and the bottle of Ibuprofen. Swallowing the pills dry and drinking a few gulps of water, you began to feel a little better with some water in your system now.

Just as you were about to get up, you were immediately swept off your feet and carried bridal style across the living room. You let out a tiny yelp as your head made contact with Ren’s warm chest.

“W-What’re you doing?”

“Oh. Did you think I wasn’t going to hog you all to myself? You’re my Christmas present and I intend to enjoy this day and many more with you by my side.”

You felt your face burn as you were sure your face was as red as a habanero. Well, this was your Christmas wish too. It’s finally your time to enjoy the lovey-dovey part of this holiday.

Throughout the entire day, you had never felt more love and content. Despite your initial shock, you soon got used to the huge shower of affection your new boyfriend continued to give you. Karasuda Ren, while intense and possessive, showered you with affection and attention unlike anything you had experienced before. He filled you with so much cake and food, you felt like you were gonna pop.

The loneliness that had haunted you dissipated in the wake of this blooming, although unconventional, relationship, was replaced by a new sense of belonging.

As Christmas lights flickered outside, you found yourself entangled in a love both warm and intense. The hours that passed brought a mix of emotions that you could get used to feeling everyday for the rest of your life.

This was it. Your deepest Christmas wish came true. You were finally happy. Only one question was left on your mind.

“Hey, so, how did you start liking me? Have we met before and I just didn’t pay attention or…?”

“No, we’d never even spoken to each other. About 3 years ago on Christmas Eve, I was riding the subway on my way home when I heard a bunch of drunk people get on.” Ren grimaced just remembering the situation. “I wasn’t anywhere near them, but I could smell the alcohol. I was going to change cars when I heard them start to argue with someone, I turned around and I saw you. You looked so tired and angry.”

“Really? I don’t remember that.” you hummed, trying to think back.

“I was going to step in, but you had already clocked one guy in the jaw and dropped the other guy like a sack of flour.”

“Oh yeah! I remember that now!”

“That moment, I fell in love with you at first sight. It took a while to find you again, but after I did I knew in my heart that I could never ever let you go.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet, Ren! Man, I guess first impressions always stick. Kind of embarrassing that your first sighting of me was when I was drunk.”

“...You were drunk?”

“Oh, I was fucking wasted. I always get smashed on Christmas Eve. It’s kind of a tradition. I was drunk off my ass the night Santa took me too.”

“...Y/N.”

“Mhm?”

“You can’t drink in front of other men. If you plan on drinking, let me know and I’ll take care of you. No one can see you drunk and vulnerable except me, okay?”

“Of course, my love! Maybe next year, you can show me where you got that kickass mulled wine from.”

“Mulled wine?”

“Yeah, that one you left on my doorstep. With the note.”

“I didn’t leave anything on your doorstep.”

“...”

“Hmm… maybe I should stop drinking random alcohol that appears next to me…”

“Y/N?!”

Bonus:

As you both were cuddled up on the couch half-asleep, watching a random Christmas movie as the fireplace crackled in the background, you were brought back to a realization. You never thanked the person that made this all possible.

You quickly got up causing Ren to jolted up at your sudden movements and stare at you wide-eyed as you made your way to his window.

“Baby, what’re you doing?” he asked cautiously with a yawn.

“I need to probably thank the person that brought us together today.”

You collapsed your hands together and smiled up at the starry-night sky, immediately catching a glimpse of the brightest twinkling star in the sky.

“Oh, you mean Santa–”

“Oh, thank you Lord Gege, you are truly my savior. If I had known praying to you would’ve gotten me results like this I would’ve prayed sooner. You are truly the ‘God of Handsome Men’.”

“Wait– what?”

“I will continue to support you and buy all of your merchandise…”

“...Y/N?”

“Mhm?”

“Are you praying to another man? While your boyfriend is right here?” You could hear the pout in his voice, but his face screamed baby-faced yandere.

You smiled and made your way back to your spot on the sofa. “Well, Lord Gege is more like a God amongst men to me now. But, of course I had to thank him.” You softly poked Ren’s puffed up cheeks. “I prayed to him the night before and he granted my wish. I am now the girlfriend to the cutest man alive!”

Ren blushed your words and decided to let your little prayer slide this time. Looks like you found the cute yandere’s weakness. Whether you decide to tease him in the future only time will tell.

—

a/n: merry christmas, my trash babies~˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ i know it's been a while since i've updated, but i couldn't leave the year off without a little slight yandere fic. i was planning on uploading two fics this month, but adhd brain and procrastination are praying on my downfall. so enjoy, a cute fic with a cute soft yandere for the holidays.

happy holidays~!❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅

675 notes · View notes

blythings · 4 months

Note

Tom blyth birthday smut if you can?

it's the 2nd of feb in australia so hbd to the loml!! thank you for sending me this req anon, perfect timing with this one 💞 this is super self-indulgent since the reader is a corporate girlie like me. also this is unedited and super rushed but hope you enjoy anyway!!!

CAKE | TOM BLYTH

— pairing: tom blyth x fem!reader — summary: when the birthday cake you had planned to make for your boyfriend doesn't go according to plan, he comes up with an alternative gift to salvage the celeberation. — content: mdni, smut, cunnilingus, fingering, very minimal dirty talk —word count: 958 words

requests are open for tom and his characters!~

As Tom steps into your shared apartment, he’s greeted by the inviting aroma of rich chocolate, tinged with the simultaneous smell of something burning, which only intensifies with each step he takes.

He calls out your name as he leans against the entry into the kitchen. It’s two pm on a Friday afternoon — normally, you would still be at your office during this time, fending off the mid-afternoon fatigue by drinking too many cans of Coke Zero and texting him some of the ridiculous items that would land in your inbox.

That said, it doesn’t take two seconds for him to know why you would be home so early. You had been apologetic all week about not having enough time to plan something more elaborate for his birthday and while he had tried to reassure you, he still sensed the faint trace of guilt behind your expression.

At the sound of his voice, you look up from the mixing bowl, filled with a chocolatey concoction. “You’re home early,” you say — ironically — before you return to mixing, your frustrations from the week seemingly being beaten into the side of the bowl. You had rolled up the sleeves of your blouse though powdered sugar still dusts the fabric. There is a brown lump by the sink that Tom can only assume had been your first attempt at baking a cake, and the reason why his kitchen smells like a hazard site at that moment.

He pads over and wraps his arms around your frame. He asks, “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

You sigh, your shoulders sagging. “I had to at least get you a cake,” you answer, “and I didn’t want to just grab one after work. I’m gonna make you a cake even if it kills me.”

“It looks like it might.” Tom mumbles under his breath, kissing the side of your head.

It isn’t like you didn’t have plans for his birthday during the weekend. But between Tom’s acting career taking off and your own job picking back up after the holiday break, the chaos that had followed is enough to eat away at your time and energy. You had been too caught up in work to plan anything special. You recall Tom’s words, his easy-going reassurance that he didn’t mind if you had a more lowkey celebration that year. Even so, guilt had been gnawing at your insides all week, fueled by the knowledge that you haven’t been as attentive since you had returned to work.

But as the two of you stand in your cluttered kitchen, it is obvious that you might’ve miscalculated your own culinary ineptitude.

“I even got this stupid cake mold for this.” You huff, lifting the heart shaped cake mold that you had picked up on your way home. “But even when I try to read the recipe, I’m not getting it right. It’s stressing me out.”

He kisses your cheek. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but I don’t want you stressing over this. We can just buy a cake from the bakery. I assume you don’t have to go back and finish any work, right?”

You shake your head. “I said there was an emergency.”

“Tell your work that something was burning. That way, you wouldn’t be lying.”

“Clever.”

“I have my moments.” He says, trailing his lips down the side of your neck. A hand trails lower and you drop the spatula into the mixing bowl as he turns you around, his mouth slotting against yours.

You’re prepared for his kiss, the years you’ve been together bringing about a level of ease that you’ve never had with any of your previous partners. He moves the mixing bowl to the side, lifting you up to rest on top of the counter. You scrunch your nose at the thought of having to do a deep clean of the kitchen later in the afternoon.

But your thoughts don’t stray from Tom for too long as he licks into your mouth. His hand moves down to your knee, tugging your legs open as sinks to the floor between your spread thighs.

“Still wanna give me something sweet?” He murmurs, pushing the hem of your skirt up. You can only offer a nod as he loops his fingers around the sides of your underwear, pulling it down your legs.

“I should be the one who — ” You start to say but he shakes his head, running two fingers up your throbbing core.

“Couldn’t even get me a proper cake,” He cuts you off, teasing, “let me taste you instead.”

You’re about to reply before he’s burying his mouth between your thighs, your mouth releasing a string of whimpers and gasps as he mouths over your clit. You cry out in pleasure as he begins nudging your bud around his tongue, his eyes watching your reactions intently. He pulls away with a lewd pop, leaning back. “This cunt is mine, isn’t it?” He asks, placing a kiss on your inner thigh. You want to bask in his touches, but the drag of his fingers and the feel of his lips sets your body ablaze.

His fingers trail down your slit before he slips two digits deep into you. You cry out when he shoves his fingers deeper inside, a warning for you. “Yours,” you manage to choke out.

Your thighs quiver around him as you cry out his name, the tightness in your belly snapping apart as your body spasms from your orgasm.

“That was fast.” He teases you, chuckling as you push him off your thighs. “Want me to help you clean all of this up?” He asks as he gestures around the kitchen, and you shake your head.

“Later. We’ve got a birthday to celebrate.”

#tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x oc #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x oc #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tbosas #smut

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mountainsandmayhem · 21 days

Text

Aisle Amore

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader Summary: You truly never know who you might meet in the grocery store. CW: no smut, all fluff. Flirting, mention of divorce, talks of food, more adorable flirting. Word Count: 3.4k AN: I've gone soft!! I couldn't stop thinking about how the couple in Wonderful Tonight and Netflix & Chill met and even though no one asked, this is exactly how they met. I worked in a grocery store for almost 15 years and I can tell you right now that I would to SPRINTING to the pasta aisle. Special thank you to @mermaidgirl30 for beta reading and both her and @littlevenicebitch69 for helping me come up with a title. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

To you, there’s nothing worse than asking for help. You’ve been fiercely independent your entire life, and these snapped ligaments have been testing you. Your friends say they don’t mind helping, but YOU mind them helping. The pain in your ankle has finally subsided enough that you can put a little weight on it and only use one crutch.

Freedom!

You shut your laptop at 6 pm, change into something that isn’t pyjama pants and begrudgingly put on a bra. The first stop on your newly found freedom tour is the grocery store. Thirteen year old you would be appalled at how excited you are over this. You jot down all the ingredients you’ll need to make homemade pasta, marinara sauce and meatballs.

Living in downtown DC has lots of perks, one of them being you can walk to the grocery store that’s just around the block. After gingerly testing your ankles a few times you decide you can walk there. Your dad’s voice echoes through your head, “This family doesn’t cry, take care of yourself, don’t depend on anyone but you”.

The walk there is easy, it feels good to be out in the summer evening sun, soaking in the vitamin D that you’ve been missing out on the last few weeks. You grab one of those small baskets with wheels and head into the store. It might be dramatic, but it’s been almost three weeks since you’ve been out on your own and you feel that same hyped elation you had at 16 when you got your license and your parents allowed you to go out on your own the first time. Except at 16 you picked up your friends and went to the record store, you were much cooler in your youth.

“Stick to the list,” you say to yourself, realizing you’re slowly becoming just like your mother. That’s fucking depressing.

The first items are olive oil and flour, you crutch along, the sounds of metal clicking and the rubber bottom squeaking following you as you move along the shiny white tile floor. A song you vaguely remember hearing during your childhood plays overhead, Eric Clapton singing about a woman looking lovely. The bakery must have fresh bread, and the delicious scent of it makes your mouth water.

Focus!

As you turn down the pasta aisle, you brush past a man in a suit who’s looking at the canned pasta sauces, poor sap, and stop about ten feet away from him. The small bag of flour you need is on an easily accessible shelf but of course, there’s only one left and it’s all the way at the back.

Marcus holds up a jar of canned marinara, silently humming along to Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton. He swears he hears his grandmother on his mother’s side rolling in her grave. She wasn’t Italian, but owned a restaurant and was definitely looking down at him ashamed that he was BUYING something she taught him to make.

Sorry grams, he thinks, just as someone hobbles past him, vanilla wafting behind her, temporarily replacing the scent of the fresh bread he’s also going to pick up. His grandmother might come back just to slap him for this dinner tonight. Granted, he did just return from seeing his ex and her new boyfriend so maybe she’d take pity on him. Bake him those gooey chocolate chip cookies he loved so much.

As he turns to head toward the pasta he sees a woman who quite frankly takes his breath away. She’s so beautiful that he almost can’t take her all in at once. Her bare legs are toned and tanned, wrapped in long black biker shorts, paired with a plain grey t-shirt and unzipped black hoodie. One high top converse laced up on one foot, the other in an uncomfortable looking boot. Her hair is in a low messy bun with almost too perfectly placed pieces along her neck and face. She seems to invade every ounce of him, until all he can see is her and all he can smell is warm vanilla. His mouth goes dry, and his heartbeat fills his ears.

This next bit happens so quickly that he doesn’t have time to even think about it. But you would later describe it as not one of your finest moments, and he would describe it as the moment that changed his life.

He watches as you reach above your head, raising up on the tippy toe of your good foot. As you lean forward, your hollow aluminum crutch slips out from underneath you and falls to the ground. An echoing tinny bang startles you and you stumble, putting too much pressure on your broken foot. The sweetest sounding “Ouch! Motherfucker,” leaves your pouty pink lips as Marcus rushes to catch you.

“Whoa,” he says as he reaches out to steady you, one hand wrapping around your hip, the other cupping your elbow, helping you off your injured leg. “Are you ok?”

Your cheeks flush as you look up at him. “Sorry, thank you.”

Your bright blue eyes wash over him, and something tugs behind his heart. Eric Clapton singing "Oh my darling, you are wonderful tonight" as he stands there temporarily stunned, unsure of where he is or what is name is. It's just you.

It doesn’t make any sense, you could be married for all he knows, but something about you draws him in. He didn’t think he’d feel this way again for a very long time, but he needs to find a way to keep talking to you.

“Let me get that for you,” he says, his hand moving from your elbow, reaching up and easily plucking the flour off the shelf.

“Thanks, I could have gotten it.” You say and he fights to stop from laughing. He can tell that you’re not someone who asks for help. No, you’re independent and strong willed. And fuck if that doesn’t just make that tug behind his heart pull that much harder.

“I know you can, you just scared me.” He looks down at you softly as you stare up at him.

He’s suddenly very aware that he still has one hand on your hip. Your shirt had ridden up as you wobbled, and the skin of your hip is soft and warm against his palm. He finds himself wondering if the rest of you is just as comforting. Just as an inviting. The light scent of your vanilla perfume fills the small space between the two of you.

“Look,” he says, finding it inside himself to peel his hand off you now that you’re steady, placing your flour in your basket and bending to grab your crutch. “My grandma is already cursing me from heaven for buying canned sauce and boxed pasta. Can you please let me help you?”

You open your mouth and then close it, almost like you’re trying to come up with a reason to not let him, so he quickly adds, “For my sake.”

You laugh through your nose, shaking your head and taking your crutch from this incredibly handsome stranger.

Please don’t be married. Or a total creep.

“Smooth,” you say teasingly.

He tugs at his white button up shirt collar. “Is it hot in here?" He fakes a dramatic cough, "I swear - she’s watching me.”

You look up at the white painted ceiling of the grocery store. “OK, grandma. Chill. I’ll let him help me.”

When you look back at him he’s smiling from ear to ear, and if you thought he was handsome before; well, fuck, there’s not even a word to describe how unbelievably charming he looks right now.

He looks down at your basket before saying, “Do you have a big list?”

“Umm,” you say holding out the special lined paper you have to make grocery lists. “I have a few things, ya.”

His thick fingers brush lightly against yours as he takes the list. You can’t help but notice that he’s not wearing a wedding ring, score, his nails are trimmed short and his cuticles are nicely manicured. You assume he must have some sort of fancy office job, like a lawyer or an accountant. He seems to radiate stability and you didn't realize you could be so aroused by fingers.

“Are you making pasta? And sauce?” He asks as his brown doe eyes scan your list.

“I am,” you say proudly. You might not be a world famous chef, but you take pride in your cooking abilities.

He smiles back at you again. “Stay here,” he says softly, “I’m gonna grab a cart.”

As he turns to walk away, taking your basket and his sauce with him, you notice the way his grey suit jacket clings to his broad shoulders. Accountant by day, muscle model by night? Muscle model? Great, he’s broken your brain.

It doesn’t take long before you hear the distinct rumbling of the plastic wheels of a shopping cart heading your way. Just as your handsome stranger comes back into the aisle “At Last” by Etta James starts to play.

“I’m Marcus, by the way,” he says, grabbing a box of pasta on the shelf and sitting it next to his sauce in the top part of the cart.

You say your name and notice the tiniest glint in his eye as the sound of it wraps around him. “Well then, we’d better get going on this list.”

He moves slowly, allowing you to set the walking pace. He’s taken your list and the entire thing feels almost too domestic, like you can envision yourself doing this every weekend with him for the rest of your lives. Maybe there would even be a kid in that little part where he puts his boxed pasta and canned sauce.

“Alright, so we covered names and who grew up where. So, what do you do for a living?” You ask, snatching a bottle of olive oil off the shelf.

“I - uh - I work in law enforcement,�� he says.

You look at him, then his tie, then back at him. With a hint of amusement in your voice you say, “Pretty fancy dress code. What are you? Like FBI or something.”

“Yes, actually. And now that you know that, I miiiight have to kill you.”

You laugh, “Sure know how to put a girl at ease, Agent Pike.”

The way you say agent, all teasing and flirty, goes straight to his cock. He’s been called Agent Pike thousands of times over his career but it’s never sent a shiver down his body like that before.

He runs a hand over his patchy scruff. “I’m kidding. About the killing part, not the FBI part.”

“Thanks for clarifying,” you laugh.

Whitney Houston’s voice floats across the store, singing about dancing with someone who loves her.

Neither of you is particularly paying attention to your list or what aisle you’re in. You snake up and down each aisle, both of you occasionally grabbing something you need.

“What about you?” He asks. Something about the way he asks a question seems different. It’s like when Marcus asks something he’s genuinely asking, not just trying to force conversation. With every answer you give his eyes focus on yours, he nods and seems curious and excited to hear what you have to say.

The bar is truly in hell if I’m turned on by a man who’s just treating me like a human.

“I run a small online store for my, umm, for my designs.” This part is always awkward, men change how they treat you once they find out what you do for a living. You avoid his eyes, he’s so goddamn handsome and you’re already disappointed that he’ll soon give you an ick with how he’ll respond to your career, how all men respond.

“Your designs? Are you an artist?” His eyes light up and he stands a little taller when he asks, he must love art. He’s going to be thrilled to find out your best friend owns a gallery, and probably even more thrilled when he learns you hurt your ankle falling off a step ladder she had you posing on as she painted you, and yes, you were completely nude.

“No,” you laugh. “I design clothing. Sort of.” You continue avoiding his eyes and chew on the inside of your cheek as you grab some dried oregano and place it in the basket.

“Hey,” he says softly, stopping by the spices, “You don’t have to tell me something you don’t want me to know.”

“It’s not that. It’s just,” you stop, glancing up at his warm chocolate brown eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows, and you have the sudden urge to sink your teeth into his neck. “Men just usually treat me differently once they know.”

He narrows his eyes at you and his lips curl into a tight lipped and curious smile. “That’s clickbait. Now you have to tell me.”

“Or you’ll kill me?” You laugh.

“Yes, FBI remember,” he says sarcastically.

You take a deep breath through your nose before you begin. “Ok, I design and sell lingerie.” You try to sound as casual as possible, smiling sweetly at him before you start walking again.

Marcus doesn’t follow along so you look over your shoulder at him. Is he blushing?

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat and avoiding your eyes. “I don’t see how that would make someone treat you differently.”

“Then why are you blushing, Pike?” You flutter your lashes at him as he catches up to you in the aisle.

The pink of his cheeks deepened, “I’m not blushing. Pretty sure I got a sunburn when I grabbed the cart.”

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard that being indoors during sunset is a very dangerous UV time.” You joke.

He laughs, “You’d be shocked how many people don’t believe it.”

You both laugh as you head towards the produce department for your tomatoes and onions. Elvis’s ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ comes over the speakers, and even though other people are shopping, it feels like it’s being targeted at just the two of you. You pluck a few tomatoes from the shelf and he opens the little plastic bag for you to place them in.

He takes a breath to start speaking and you brace yourself for the inevitable. All men do it. They all either ask what your company is called so they can look up your Instagram later or they’re bold and flat out ask you to model some of your designs for them.

“Where’d you learn to make pasta?” He asks, his voice quivering at the closeness of your body to his.

“Umm, I sort of did an Eat, Pray, Love thing recently.” You say quietly, smiling up at him. It’s the tiniest movement, but you swear his eyes flick to your lips as your hand brushes against his while you reach into the bag. Your heart is pounding behind your ribs, it’s almost unfair how handsome he looks under these fluorescent lights.

“Oh? Like you went to Italy?” His voice is low and nervous as he watches you picking up tomatoes, squeezing them gently and smelling them. Carefully choosing the best ones.

“Yes. Without spilling my whole life story, I got married young and then divorced a few years ago. I just kind of needed a hard reset on myself.” You drop two more tomatoes in the bag and then side step, or more more like side hobble, to the onions.

“Huh,” he says, “I can honestly say that I know exactly what you mean by that.”

You both smile at each other, you swear you can see his pulse flutter in his neck before he says, “Unfortunately, I think we have everything on your list,” he finishes off his sentence by saying your name and it sends an explosion of butterflies in your lower belly. You don’t know if you’ve ever met someone who makes you feel like you have somehow known them for your whole life but is also brand new.

“Sorry. You probably have places to be and I’m -“ Your voice trails off when he slowly steps even further into your space.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says softly, his fingertips brushing against yours causing a buzzing up your arm. Just then ‘I knew I loved you’ by Savage Garden rains down from the speakers. Marcus laughs gently and continues, “Is it just me or has the music been interesting in here tonight?”

You move your pointer finger just a hair so it brushes against his, “ya, sounds like the crab from The Little Mermaid is in charge.”

A laugh from his stomach passes his lips, it’s joyous and melodic and even though you’ve just met him, you want to make him laugh like that for the rest of your life. He’s smiling so big that you can see all his straight white teeth. His head tips forward slightly and the skin around his eyes crinkles. You’re both so close, he smells like mint and a new book and everything around you seems to fall away, blurring around the edges. It’s overwhelming. Dizzying even. He’s the one. You can’t explain it, but you were meant to be in this grocery, with this annoying boot and crutch.

“That’s not quite the comparison I would have used, but yes.” His eyes dance around yours, still laced with amusement and happiness. “Is he a crab or lobster?”

“I think he’s a crab,” you say, pulling your hand back from his to stop yourself from leaping off that cliff and into his arms.

“I think he’s a lobster,” he counters, stepping back but never breaking the connection of his eyes with yours.

As you head towards the checkout you glance towards the shopping cart nervously, remembering that you walked here.

Both of you pay for your groceries in a comfortable silence and he scolds you teasingly for trying to grab your bags. “Grandma is still watching.”

The two of you head for the exit. “Did you park somewhere?”

“No. I can take them from here,” you’re not going to let this man drive you somewhere or walk you home. That’s ridiculous. You are strong and you’ve already impeded his life enough.

He lifts his eyebrow suspiciously and turns just a touch so you can’t reach your bags. “You walked here, didn’t you?”

“It’s really fine, Marcus. It’s not far. Thank you for your help. You didn’t need to do that.”

“I have an apartment that way,” he says, nodding his head in the same direction you need to go.

“Oh that’s very forward of you, but I know better than to go to a secondary location with a stranger.” And he does it again, that beautiful, happy laugh. “I’m in the same direction.”

You walk down the quiet street. People always say they wouldn’t want to live downtown because it’s too noisy, but truthfully, after the work crowd disperses for the evening and the dinner rush parts, it’s quite peaceful.

“How sure are you that he’s a lobster? Willing to make a bet?”

He looks over at you cautiously. “Alright. I’ll play along. I’m 100% sure he’s a lobster. What’s the bet?”

“Wow. Marcus Pike, does the FBI know you’re such a risk taker?”

He says your last name and follows it with, “Quit stalling, what’s the bet.”

“Ok ok. Once I’m off all the painkillers. If he’s a crab, I make you REAL pasta. If he’s a lobster, you take me out for real pasta.”

You both stop at the same time in front of the same building, “This is me. So is it a bet?”

Marcus pulls a key fob out of his pocket, “This is also me. And yes, we have a bet.”

You cross the lobby together, you select your floors and exchange phone numbers on the way up and then he finally gives you your bags.

“Thank you,” you say, smiling at him sweetly as the elevator approaches your floor. “I appreciate you using your grandma to help me.”

He covers his heart with his hand. “I would never!”

As the elevator comes to a halt he glances up at you sheepishly and your heart almost breaks open right then and there at how devastatingly handsome and heart meltingly adorable he is all at the same time.

You smile like a damn fool the moment you’re out of that elevator. Of all the ways you thought your night was going to go, it did not involve a very charming stranger making you all nervous and delusional.

The second you get inside your apartment you fight the urge to prove yourself right and cash in on our dinner, but you already miss him, so you text him.

Tag list:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44

@keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot

@lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog

@pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya

@javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey

@iluvurfather @ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30 @untamedheart81 @littlevenicebitch69

#pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus pike x you #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike #the mentalist #pedropascal #pedro pascal #pedrohub

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yok00k · 27 days

Text

seasons: pink

seasons_m.list

pairing: p.sunghoon x acubi!oc

genre: fluff, drabble

summary: shopping w/ sunghoon

warning: too sweet!

word count: 919

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

“Earth to sunghoon??” you say, waving your hand in front of your boyfriend’s face, who’s been zooming out for a while. he’s all dressed up and ready to go since ages ago. meanwhile, you take at least two hours to get ready and have more than five steps of skincare routine plus some makeup. he did everything that he could possibly do to not get bored while waiting for you.

walk back and forth from the living room to your bedroom more than 50 times? check. water the plant sitting on the most random spots of your apartment? check. pet and play with coco, your tiny shih tzu dog? check. yet he’s still ended up sitting up at the edge of your bed, staring at the air.

you further try to get his attention by planting a few kisses on his left cheek, which leaves an easily noticeable lip tint stain on his smooth skin. resulting in your sudden action, he moves from his frozen state.

sunghoon blinks twice, bringing himself out from detaching himself to reality. “you ready?” he asks, clearing his voice while examining your cute all-white outfit, which matches his all-black casual attire. he also notices the makeup you put on today, a simple ‘igari’ style makeup that highlights lots of rose pink blush on your soft cheeks.

cute, totally his type

“yes! thanks for waiting for me” you respond with full energy. of course he’ll wait for you. no matter how long he has to wait for. it’s not like he could just leave you and execute today's plan all by himself. he wouldn’t leave you alone. even if he has an option to. in addition to that, he loves spending a solid quality time with you.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

since warm weather is slowly approaching , the today’s plan is to shop around for summer clothes. you two have been planning on going to one of the few nicest outdoor outlets around. the only downside is it’s a couple of hours drive. but they have everything you could possibly look for: cute stores, high quality clothing stores, nice bakeries and bubble tea shops, and many more. for that reason, you are willing to be in the car for two hours. this is your idea after all.

the first thing you knock out of your to-do list as you arrive you destination is to grab a refreshing bubble tea. after that, you and sunghoon began roaming around. your wrist acts to its second nature as it automatically entangled with his. sunghoon isn’t really a fan of pda, but he wouldn’t mind having his hand intertwined with yours. he actually enjoys it a lot, but he would never ever admit it or say it out loud.

today is such a bright day.

in the midst of walking in the open air mall, sunghoon confusedly turns his head when you abruptly come to a halt, followed by hearing a loud gasp from you. he’s about to ask what’s wrong but as soon as he looks at what you’re staring at, he understands right away. you lead the way quickly towards the front of the store.

“i’ll just see what they have inside real quick, I won’t take that long” you reassure him, grabbing a mini basket, just in case you end up buying something tiny. he just follows and stays right behind you like a lost puppy.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

there’s no such thing as “real quick” especially when shopping with you. and sunghoon knows that for a fact. he’s even surprised that it only took you 40 minutes to roam around that small store given the fact that you love examining every cute thing the store sells. you would ask for his opinion here and there, only for you to return the items back because you don’t really need those things. still, you’re pleased by how pretty they look. after looking at every product, you ended up only buying two things: a couple of decent size miffy night lamps. one for you and one for him.

“look, I got one for you!” you mutter, swinging the paper bag in front of him.

“for me?” he asks dumbfoundedly, he didn’t even realized that you bought two of the same item. you reply with a nod. “yup, they’re the same thing so we can match” you explain, wrapping your hands to his arm as you proceed to your next stop. before he could even react, he’s being dragged by you elsewhere.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

“this one, this one, this one..” you mumble to yourself, fully concentrating on picking oversized t-shirt that would look good on sunghoon. so far you have three different color of shirts in your hand. a sky blue, white, and light pink. he typically dislikes pink but it would look great on him.

“try these on, I will look for more” you softly instruct him as you handle the clothes.

“pink?” he utterly baffles, not liking the idea of trying on the particular shirt.

“trust me, it’ll look good on you”

sunghoon is about to disagree, but he chooses not to. he’s in love you to the point where he’s going to do whatever you ask him to do, even if it’s against his liking as such color of a damn shirt. he won’t listen to anyone. but he’s willing to listen to you.

he ended up trying it. it wasn’t as bad he thought it would be. maybe wearing pink isn’t that bad, solely because the girl he loves says so.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

a/n: i’m making a series of this couple<33

#sunghoon fic #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon #enhypen imagines #sunghoon ff #enhypen sunghoon #kpop imagines #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon fanfic #sunghoon x you

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minimallyminnie · 11 months

Text

Brothers with reader who’s really good at baking!

Gn reader, fluff, fluffy, some hurt, happy!

Lucifer

He loves it when you bake

But that being said he also hates it

For the sheer reason that everyone keeps fighting over again and again

Hell, even Barbatos and Luke threw hands the other day for a macaron from you!

That was saying something if Diavolo’s right hand man and an incredibly short angel wanted to fight for a macaron

So, to see what all the fuss was about he tried one

He never went back at all.

If Simeon or Satan or anyone were to throw hands

He would throw them to the ground

No. Hesitation.

He would probably like desserts that surprise him

Throw in a punch of cayenne pepper or something sour or crunchy and you’ll have a pleasantly surprised Lucifer

He doesn’t mind things that are simple and sweet either

Kinda like you. A simple human who’s kind to them despite how awful they can be to you at times

He stands next to you as you stir the batter and holds your face with one of his hands

As he presses a kiss to your lips, you lean in his hand

“I want you to remain with me like this…won’t you?

Mammon

You bet your arse that he’s going to freaking splurge on baking supplies

Anything for his s/o right?

He loves things with sour flavors a lot

He will pay you if he asks for you to make something for him

You don’t really mind not getting paid as long as you see your boyfriend happy but he seems to be insistent

But it’s not like anything special! He’s just paying for labor after all!

Of course he would deny it completely

He found out when he saw Beel in his demon form holding about ten muffins in his hands while Belphie was trying to get one from him

He only wants you to bake for him!

When he got the last one on the table, it was like the celestial realm went back for him or something

It was better than any of the Devildom bakeries and that was saying something

While he loves your baking, he also loves you as he proved that one day while you were baking

He wrapped his arms around your waist and when you looked back, he kissed you

“Hey, don’t mind if ya always bake by my side will ya..?”

Leviathan

Poor boy is so nervous to tell you that he wants something so he just opts for grabbing 3 of whatever you made before decking it out of the kitchen

You should tell him you can see him…

He loves it when you make themed desserts

Even more when it’s of anime he knows!

That one time you made Ruri-Chan cookies and his heart went like one of those shoujou girls

He really likes anything that’s creative!

So bored by simple flavors! He wants crazy things!

He’ll try anything you need him to, flavors, textures, scents

He’ll try to be honest about it if they look like a mess but he’ll end up stuttering more than usual

Like Mammon, he’ll deny it completely but unlike him, he’ll say it later on

He feels bad that you do basically everything so he goes out to help you wash dishes

He doesn’t mind but his brothers sure were surprised when he went out

When you kiss him as a thanks, he startles you when he pulls you back

“Y-you’re really amazing…D-don’t leave me…ok?

Satan

He doesn’t like desserts very much

You offered him a piece of angel cake (which he was incredibly annoyed at, adding on to the list of bad things that happened to him today…) and he just pushed the plate away and continued to work

You were hurt, of course but this was normal so you set the plate down next to him and went back to the kitchen to make more after the entire plate went missing

He regretted letting his sin slip out for no reason when you were just trying to do something nice so he decided to take just one bite

One bite couldn’t hurt.

Right?

Good grief he blinked and the whole piece was gone

He fell for your baking pretty fast

For you? Pretty much dropped.

He takes it out to clean later on but that night, he goes out and buys a special something for you

The next morning while everyone is out and about, you decided to stay in and bake some more

You feel a flat item nudge you in your back before turning around and seeing Satan with a rectangle gift in his hands

He gives it to you and when you open the intricately wrapped paper, there’s a baking book!

He apologizes, saying it wasn’t his intention to hurt you but you shush him with a kiss

Leaving the book on the counter you hold your arms around him

In return, he comes back from his surprise and holds you as he kisses your head

“For all the times I’ve been quiet I want to tell you to stay with me forever.”

Asmodeus

The first time he sees your baking he’s like

Astonished

He has to post this on Devilgram!!!!

Asmodeus takes about a hundred pictures of the cupcake before he looks around and takes one back to his room

Like a lot of the bakeries he’s tried, it’ll probably only be good in the appearance part

The taste? Probably shit.

But doesn’t mean he won’t try!

…

Well, look who’s going to be asking you for baked goods every week now.

He doesn’t care if it’ll go to his thighs or not, it tastes heavenly!

He’ll squeal in delight after the last bite, craving for more.

When you decide to make them in front of everyone, flour on your apron and buttercream on the side of your cheek, everyone is watching carefully at the cakes.

You swirl the cream over the cakes, sprinkling some tiny lemon flavored sprinkles before carefully placing bigger lemon looking candies on top of each one intricately

You wipe your head with your sleeve and grin at your hard work, taking just one photo which he thinks is blasphemy! Just one photo of beautiful cupcakes?! Are you crazy?!

You then tell them to enjoy while walking off to wash the dishes and everyone makes a go at it

The 24 cupcakes are gone in seconds, he took only two though intentionally

While the brothers go to the living room to fight, he goes to you when you’re done drying the dishes and handing you one. He presses a kiss to your cheek, smiling at your happiness

“My my! These cupcakes are adorable but you still are way better than them! Would you make these for me until the very end dear~?”

Beelzebub

WNDKDKDKDKWKE

Oh this man would be so down bad

He’s the avatar of gluttony and either way, he liked to eat in the Celestial Realm too

So first thing of his day, normal average (as you can get) day at home

He sees a plate on the table, he eats

Simple as that.

He sees his brothers actually fighting him for the plate to which he just gives it to them

He has one after all, what’s the harm in giving the rest to his brothers?

Well, they all had cleaning duty from you for the whole week after he ate the eclair

He wanted more.

That was the most heavenly devilishly amazing dessert he’s tasted in devildom and the Celestial Realm

Beelzebub now sneaks inside the kitchen when you’re there and watches you bake from step 1 to the end

You don’t mind, he’s quiet, washes his hands, offers to help hold or mix something

Who doesn’t get tired when they’re hand mixing something?

You also like the company, talking to a bowl of flour is…kinda boring when it doesn’t talk back. Beel will tell you what he thinks if you ask him, taste testing (which he loves even more now) or appearances

Even just listening to you talk while he stands or sit next to you, it’s nice and peaceful

The brothers eventually do come down and fight for the desserts before rushing back into their rooms like wasps and you just wash the dishes with him

When you’re done, you hand a tray of hidden tarts to Beel expecting him to devour all of them

But he just takes one, break it in half and gives it to you

You don’t expect it since he’s usually not so forward but he presses a kiss to your lips and blushes after

“I like it when you bake. Could you…bake and stay by my side forever…?”

Belphegor

Now. Considering how iffy you and Belphie were after…ahem…that incident, it’s a bit safe to assume that he had to work really hard to gain back his brothers and yours trust again

And he did, regretting deeply what he did considering you two were now together

He’s sleeping most of the time but when he hears fighting noises from the kitchen he sits up from the couch and looks inside to see Solomon, Asmodeus, and Lucifer fighting fist and fist????

(He definitely took photos of that)

When he looks at you who’s just ignoring the three, you offer him a slice of tiramisu cake

He takes it, confused and then he goes back to the attic

When he slices a piece off with his fork and puts it in his mouth

His mind almost explodes

It tasted…soft and amazing. The coffee delicately blending in with the bitter cocoa on top and the soft cream between the layers.

He eats it slowly but when the fork scrapes the plate, he keeps on wanting for more.

The next time you bake, he’s watching from the kitchen table.

You move with grace and love while you make it and he doesn’t understand how you can after everything his brothers and especially him did to you

His thoughts move around until a clink in front of him snaps him out

Belphie looks at the flan, and then you.

He eats it with you, smart move to put the tray of it outside on the dinner table so they wouldn’t bother you

You both finish and you happily ask for his opinion

He realizes that he won’t be able to understand you. You’re a puzzle piece that wasn’t apart of his family’s set but you fit in regardless.

So he does give you his opinion

He pulls you in and presses his head against yours

“I don’t understand how you can love me and smile at me after what I’ve done. But…I’d like to see it for the rest of my life.”

Fun fact, I hate how they just brushed off Belphie’s actions in lesson 16 and how we acted too 🤠 Handsomeness doesn’t excuse the shit he did.

Hope you enjoyed nonetheless!

#mindlessclow #x reader #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me belphegor x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me x y/n #obey me fanfic #obmswd #obey me nightbringer #fluff #some hurt/comfort

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anonymous-dentist · 7 months

Text

Or: a pirate au

Before having the nerve to turn Roier in to the Navy, Spreen had this to say:

“I have no compassion for anybody.”

And then he had leaned forward and driven both the metaphorical and literal-actual-goddamn sword in between Roier’s ribs, and he had whispered right into Roier’s ringing ear:

“You’re lucky I’m not drowning you.”

And then he had kicked Roier off of his ship and onto the Navy’s, and he had sailed away, free to live and fight another day while leaving his best friend and first mate behind.

But, well. Joke’s on him! It’s been a year since that fateful day, but Roier is alive, and he’s free, and he’s got a gun and a sword and a ship of his own, and he’s gonna make Spreen pay.

But first? Breakfast, and fast. The Navy is after him, and he doesn’t want to get captured this early in the morning. (Foolish would never let it go!)

The Barcoier docks just after sunrise, and Roier is off the ship and speeding down the pier before Jaiden even has the anchor weighed.

The island is small, so small that it’s just a town and some farms and a couple of trees and a single lake smack in the center of it all. It’s so small it doesn’t even have a name, but that just makes it all the better for hiding from the Navy on; if it’s too small to be on a map, it’s too small for those idiots with the Navy to pick up on.

Maybe Roier is a bad pirate captain for leaving his crew to tie up the ship and run errands while he gets everyone breakfast and tries not to get arrested. But also:

(“We need a chef,” Jaiden complains. “No offense, dude, but your cooking sucks.”

Roier sniffs, hurt, but he doesn’t argue. He’s a better chef on land than he is on the water.

“I’ll get us a chef,” he promises. “But only if you-” He pokes Jaiden between the eyes with a corner of his hardtack biscuit. “-get us better food! Nobody can cook with this!”

He smacks his biscuit hard enough against the table to crack it [the table.] Jaiden rolls her eyes, but she shrugs.)

Where there’s a good breakfast, there’s a good chef. And, on an island as tiny as this one is, said chef might just be desperate enough for a change of pace that they’d agree to become a pirate. (It’s how Spreen got Roier, after all.)

How hard can it be?

…Really hard, actually, especially now that the Federation and its Navy are starting to crack down extra hard on pirates. They’ve moved on from life imprisonment to public executions, and all because most of the pirates left on the seas have started to unionize under the guidance of the feared Captain Bad Halo.

But, who knows? Maybe today will be the day!

Maybe…

The town’s only restaurant is closed for renovations, but the town’s bakery is open, thank God.

The bakery, much like the town it’s based in, doesn’t have a name. It does, however, have a wooden sign hanging above the door with a donut painted on it. The donut’s center, rather than being a hole, is a bright yellow-irised eyeball. Freaky.

The door jingles like rusted keys as Roier enters. Someone swears from the back room; otherwise, the bakery is entirely empty.

“Coming!” Roier hears.

“No worries!” he responds. “Take your time!”

He doesn’t exactly have time for the baker to take, but he isn’t exactly going to get himself a chef by being rude, is he?

So Roier waits, and he takes the opportunity to look at the display cases by the front counter. Donuts, of course, some muffins. An… abnormal amount of meat pies. Sure? Why not! Every place has its specialties.

A few moments pass, during which Roier starts mentally counting how many of each item he’s gonna need, and then footsteps from the back and an apologetic, “Sorry, I’m just-”

The baker cuts himself off as Roier stands up and looks him over. He’s… handsome, okay. Okay. More importantly, he already looks more piratey than half of Roier’s crew: pierced ear, scar across the bridge of his nose, solid build. Hot.

“You’re a pirate,” the baker says, much calmer than most regular people would be. Good, he’s brave, pirates need to be brave.

Roier leans forward against the counter, propping himself up on his elbows. He smiles, head tilted juuuust so.

“Who, me?” he asks. He shakes his head. “Naaaah. I’m just a regular guy looking for breakfast, you know?”

The baker’s eyes trail over Roier’s head and shoulders like he’s memorizing him. Creepy, kinda. Hot, kinda.

Roier continues, “But I’ve never been here before, so… any recommendations?”

He winks. The baker’s eyes widen slightly, and then he smiles himself and leans himself against the counter, his arms just inches away from Roier’s.

“Well,” he says, “the donuts will last longer on a long trip, if that’s what you’re asking. Everything else has fresh ingredients in it.”

“Who says I’m going on a long trip?”

The baker rolls his eyes and pushes himself off the counter to start unloading donuts into a bag. “Please, nobody actually wants to stay in this shithole. I’m used to tourists.”

He has nice arms. Maybe he even knows how to use a sword already.

“Sooo… you want to leave, too?” Roier asks.

The baker shrugs. “Maybe someday.”

That isn’t a no…

So it’s basically a yes!

Roier beams. “What if today was your someday?”

The baker gives him a flat look. “I’m not a pirate.”

“Maybe I’m not, either. But I do need someone on my ship who knows how to cook, and you wanna get out of here.”

The last donut is dumped into the bag, and the baker ties the bag shut and plops it onto the counter. He leans over it with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m not a chef, either,” he says. “Shouldn’t you be hiring someone that can actually cook, Captain Roier?”

At Roier’s gasp, the baker nods his head towards the wall behind Roier. On it is a bulletin board with wanted posters for nearly every pirate on the seas, Roier included.

Whoops.

Whatever! The baker hasn’t called the authorities yet, so he’s fine.

Roier opens his mouth, ready to try his pitch again, but he’s rudely interrupted by a cannon ball sailing through the bakery’s front window and slamming into a cabinet full of flour.

The room explodes into white, sending both Roier and the baker reeling.

“Fuck!” Roier coughs. He fans the air in front of his face, blinking rapidly to get the flour off of his eyes.

The bakery’s door is slammed open by a heavy boot. Its owner, a Navy officer, follows it in with his sword drawn and pointed at… the baker.

“Hands in the air,” the officer sneers.

Roier looks at the officer. He looks at the baker.

The baker looks at him. The baker looks at the officer.

He raises his hands slowly, holding the donut bag with it for whatever reason.

He looks at Roier again, a small smile on his handsome, yet flour-dusted, face.

“Thank you for having me aboard, captain,” he says.

The officer just then seems to notice Roier, but the poor bastard is just a bit too late because, just as he’s turning around to slash at the very obvious pirate captain in the room, Cellbit chucks the donuts at the idiot’s head. The bag makes contact, and then it makes the officer stumble right into the pointy end of Roier’s sword.

What a shame.

Roier pulls his sword out of the guy’s stomach with a grimace, wiping the blood on the bakery’s shredded window curtains.

He turns to smile at the baker, then.

“Glad to have you aboard…”

“Cellbit,” the baker supplies.

Now, where has Roier heard that name before…?

Whatever! There’s time for that later.

For now, Roier has a ship to get to, and he has a chef to deliver to it.

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#spiderbit pirate au #that’s right I revamped it #based loosely off of 1 piece iykyk

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traveler-at-heart · 10 months

Text

What we were - Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

CW: Character death, cheating.

Not sure if ya’ll gonna like where this is going but... this is my design.

Over the course of three weeks, you received yellow tulips, chocolate and danish scones from your favorite bakery.

Each item always included a hand-written note from Natasha wishing you a good day or with a poem you loved. You gave your thanks via text, but that was about it from your side.

Natasha also made it a point to drive and pick up Anya at least three times a week. On Fridays, they had dinner together and brought extra for you and Bucky.

A peace offering that he didn’t give a damn about. Still, it was fun for you to watch them interact with phony smiles, wondering who would break first.

As August ended, Anya’s school sent out their usual PTA meeting invite. You RSVPd, not really expecting Natasha to be there.

“Let me drive you” Bucky says as you look at yourself in the mirror. For the first time in months, you’re about to leave the house to interact with grown ups that won’t look at you with pity or sadness.

“And leave Anya alone? I don’t think so”

“It looks like it will rain, and you absolutely can’t drive at night with rain”

“Are you calling me old? You, the centennial man?” you pinch him, reaching for the wrong arm. “Ouch”

“Clearly, this interaction has shown that I’m more mature than both of you,” Anya proclaims, doing her homework in the living room. “It’s a short drive and you know uncle Bucky is right, Mom”

“Ugh, fine. But call us if you need anything, please?” you kiss her forehead and in spite of yourself, wear your reading glasses.

“Yeah, yeah”

“Be back in a second, kid” Bucky says, ruffling her red hair.

“With Chinese”

“Fine”

“She’s so bossy” you comment, buckling up. He chuckles.

“Wonder where she got that from”

“Hey!” you slap his arm, thankful that it wasn’t the metal one this time. “I know you’re just driving me because you want to see Miss Day”

“Anya’s teacher? Nah” his blush gives it away.

“Busted”

You have to hold back a laugh when, out of all people, Miss Day is the one greeting everyone at the door.

“Sergeant Barnes” she greets a little too eagerly. “Will you be joining Mrs. Romanoff tonight?”

“Just dropping her off” he stumbles with his words.

“He’s such a gentleman, don’t you think?” you say, nudging him. “Any girl would be lucky to have him”

“Well, Anya speaks wonders of you. And you’re welcome to stay, we will just be a little crowded in the classroom, considering the other Mrs. Romanoff is already here”

“Oh. Right”

“That’s my cue. Call me later” he mumbles, annoyed at the idea of Natasha arriving earlier than you two.

“Of course!” Miss Day is quick to answer, but blushes a second later. “Oh, right, you meant… her. Ha-ha, silly me”

You’ll never, ever, let him forget this.

As you walk into the classroom, still smiling, your eyes meet Natasha’s. She waves at you awkwardly.

“Saved you a seat” she points at the chair next to hers and you nod.

“Thank you”

Miss Day goes over the upcoming fairs, projects and field trips. The curriculum goes next and by the time she finishes with the Q&A session, it’s been an hour.

The last part consists of parents meeting privately with Miss Day to review grades and conduct. It’s in alphabetical order so you’re one of the last.

“I forgot how long these things are” you sit next to Natasha in one of the hallway benches. You lean back, sighing.

“Want some chocolate?”

“Mmm, yes. I’m starving” you take the snack and practically moan at the first bite. “Sorry” you mumble when Natasha blushes.

“I like it when you wear glasses,” she says, looking at her feet.

It’s your turn to blush.

“Thank you”

“Mrs. and Mrs. Romanoff?” Miss Day calls for you.

“Us? So soon?” you look at Natasha and she shrugs her shoulders.

“Oh, yeah, we’re not doing the alphabetical thing anymore. We go over top performers first. Please sit. Anya is doing great. As you know, she’s already fluent in four languages…”

“Five” Natasha corrects and you go over the list in your head. Oh yeah, German.

“Right, five. Sorry” Miss Day looks flustered, and you remember that most of Anya’s teachers have always been particularly afraid of your wife.

“I forgot as well. It’s hard to keep up with Anya sometimes” you intervene, kicking Nat’s leg softly.

Be nice.

The Russian smiles, trying to look friendly.

“She’s leaning towards Humanities a little bit more than last year. As you remember, she won first place at the Interstate Science Fair. And her grades are still great in all subjects, but she has been reading a lot more. And taken some interest in learning to play the piano”

“My dad made me take lessons when I was her age. I may have mentioned it once or twice. Though none of us really know how to play any instruments, right, darling?” you say, distractedly.

“R-right” Natasha’s eyes widen at the pet name. “Yelena, her aunt, she plays the guitar”

“Oh, yeah” you nod, still unaware of your slip up. “Well, I’ll ask her if she wants to take some private lessons. I’m too rusty to teach her anything”

“Other than that, she’s doing great. She’s a great kid, sweet and very kind to her peers… as for faculty members…”

“What?” you're shocked to think that anyone would complain about your daughter.

“Well, kids like Anya…”

“Like what?” Natasha practically barks at the teacher and she jumps in her seat.

“I mean super smart. They tend to have an issue with authority and question everything. There’s also that thing where she’s very good at sneaking around”

“We’ll talk to her” you promise, but you’re uncertain about how the conversation will go.

After all, you married her other mother while you two were running away from the American government. And the Avengers were famous for breaking rules regularly.

The team had a whole Wikipedia page on broken laws, including sections by country and international organizations.

“In that case, class dismissed” the woman seems relieved when you say goodbye.

You walk next to Natasha, caught up in your thoughts. She keeps you from walking into the rain by pulling you next to her.

“Huh?” you look back, your face inches away from hers.

“It’s raining” she explains.

“Oh”

“Do you want my jacket? Where did you park?”

“Buck drove me here. I’ll get a cab”

“Let me” she offers, her green eyes pleading.

“Could we… get something to eat first? I’m very hungry and not in the mood for chinese”

“Yes, anything you want”

There’s an awkward moment as she walks you to the passenger door and you both reach for the handle.

“Sorry, yeah…” you let her pull and then you slip inside, trying to control your breathing.

“What are you in the mood for?” she says, driving out of the school’s parking lot.

“Grilled cheese” you say and she chuckles.

“From Al’s?”

“Where else, Nat?”

“Coming right up”

“You really were hungry” Natasha smiles as you steal another one of her fries.

“Maria had me on back to back meetings. And then I went to swim for a whole hour. So this is just me rewarding myself for being such a responsible adult”

“How’s the leg?”

“The same”

“My offer still stands,” she reminds you. Her phone rings and you’re saved the trouble of refusing said offer for the second time. “Will you excuse me?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll finish your fries for you”

Natasha rolls her eyes, but pushes the plate towards you.

The evening has been surprisingly pleasant. But a minute later, she hurriedly hangs up and walks back to you.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah” she lies.

In the past, maybe because you loved her, you let those small lies fly. But not pushing enough was part of what brought you here.

“Tasha? I’d like to know”

You lock eyes and you hold your breath as Natasha studies your expression.

“Ok” she nods. You give her a moment to gather her thoughts. “I’ve been researching… that mission. Trying to find whoever is responsible for Clint’s…”

She bites her lip, looking down. On instinct, you reach out across the table to squeeze her hand. Natasha holds on tight, running her thumb across your skin.

“I think I’ve found them. Kate was tracking her mother after she escaped prison. Seems like Eleanor Bishop is now working with international terrorists”

“They weren’t prepared for that, then? Kate and Clint thought it would be something…”

“Easier”

You nod.

“So, what’s wrong?”

“It’s not gonna be easy to get to them. It’s a matter of international security and every government wants in on the mission. I was hoping I could call a few favors…”

“So, you’re not gonna go rogue and beat them on your own?” you arch an eyebrow, impressed with her self control.

Honestly, you expected Natasha to fly and kill them as soon as she got the intel.

“I wouldn’t be a very good mother if I was stuck at the Raft. Or running away like we used to”

“I’ll travel to D.C.” you offer and her eyes widen. “I can pull some strings. As much as I hate it, my father’s name still holds some weight there”

“Would you do that? I know how much you hate going back there”

All the politics and the lies, the power these people craved and hoarded… yes, it made you sick. But if you could help Natasha, you’d take it.

“It will be fine”

“This means the world to me, Y/N”

“I know, Nat. Which is why you’ll get me ice cream for dessert”

“Deal” she lets go of your hand to call the waitress and you smile.

You also wish she hadn't let go.

Packing for one was easier than you remembered. It was only a two day trip, anyway.

Natasha insisted on driving you to the airport and Anya wanted to tag along. It was as good a time as any to remind them of the rules of the house.

“Pop quiz, everyone” you announce.

Anya and Natasha groan at the same time.

“Do we really have to?” your daughter complains.

“How many times a day do you have to water my plants, Natasha?”

“Uh… five?”

“Once! Just once, tomorrow” Anya laughs at her mother and you turn to point at her. “Ok, plants are your responsibility now, missy”

“Aw, Ma!”

“No Nerf guns inside the house” you keep listing the rules with your fingers.

“Hey, that’s no fun!” Natasha complains and you ignore her.

“No horror movies, if you order pizza it should have at least two different vegetables and last but not least, I do not want to come back home and see that you acquired any sort of animal as a pet”

“So if a puppy shows up at our door and it’s raining, we’re supposed to leave them outside?” Anya peaks from the backseat.

“No, you drive them to uncle Buck’s and force him to take care of them”

“Alright, we get it. We’ll behave, right, kiddo?” Natasha promises, winking at Anya.

Saying goodbye it’s harder than you imagined. Anya doesn’t know why you’re going to D.C., but she understands you wouldn’t leave if it wasn’t important.

“Y/N, it’s a two day trip” Natasha complains, carrying your heavy suitcase. “Bucky had no issue getting it down the stairs”

“That’s low, even for you, Ma” Anya says, but still laughs.

“I know, I’m sorry” you take the suitcase from Nat.

“You are not,” she chuckles.

“Tiny, tiny bit” you put your thumb and pointer finger close together. Anya hugs your side and you turn to her. “Take care of Mom, please. I’ll be back the day after tomorrow”

“We’ll be ok, I promise”

“I love you” you say against her hair. She hugs you tight.

“We love you too” Anya says and you smile.

“Have a nice trip” Natasha approaches nervously, her hands on the pockets of her jeans.

“Thank you”

Before you have time to process what’s happening, she leans forward and places a kiss on your forehead.

It’s all you can think about on the flight to D.C.

Secretary of State Leah Renfield sends a driver to pick you up from the airport. She accepted your request to meet immediately, which can only mean one thing: whatever you’re gonna ask of her, she already knows how you’ll pay it back.

“Agent Romanoff” she greets you, walking away from her huge mahogany desk. She’s tall and her blonde hair has some white on the front.

“Madame Secretary, it’s good to see you again” you take the hand she offers and follow her to a small futon next to a giant window.

“I must say, I love that you took your wife’s last name. Natasha Romanoff is a KGB double agent and you’d rather be associated with her than with Thaddeuss Ross”

“Well, it’s hard to be on good terms with a parent that turns you into an outlaw”

“In the end, the Avengers did more for the world than he did” she concedes. It’s no secret that she never liked your father, but you share the sentiment wholeheartedly. “So, I am very happy to welcome you whenever you want. I know that you’re still working in intelligence and SHIELD ops”

“Right” you sit straight and look her in the eye. “The thing is… as you know, Agent Barton was killed seven months ago”

“A tragedy”

“We’ve gathered evidence and it all points to an international terrorist organization called Helios. They’ve been collaborating with some lower rank Hydra officials. It’s all here” you hand over the information that Natasha has collected, about members, attacks and possible targets.

“This is an issue of international security, then” she declares, after browsing through the files. “But what’s the point of bringing it to me?”

“We want to be the ones on a mission to tear it down and arrest those responsible for killing Agent Barton”

“We, as in, the Avengers”

“Yes”

Renfield sighs, and stands up to walk around the room. She pauses near the alcohol cabinet. It’s too early for a glass of bourbon.

“The world isn’t what it used to be when you were a team, Agent. Frankly, I don’t know how you all got away with so much contempt for the law”

“Well, we saved the universe once or twice. Remember Thanos?”

The woman sighs and nods. Yes, she does. Her daughter and husband were blipped, after all. She has her family back because of you.

“I’m here because we want to do things right. Without causing you too much trouble, as I understand you might run for president next year…”

Renfield laughs and looks at you.

“I always thought you’d do great in politics”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment, Madam Secretary”

“Me neither”

There’s a knock at the door; her Chief of Staff reminds her she has to run to another meeting.

“Walk with me” she asks, taking the file and handing it over to her assistant. “When are you going back to New York?”

“Friday morning”

“I’ll try to have an answer by then”

“Thank you”

“Let’s meet before you go back. And give my best to your wife”

“Will do”

“I don’t want her greetings, I want her to okay the mission. In fact, I want her to authorize a nuclear warhead straight to these terrorists’ asses” Natasha rants.

You finally made it to the hotel and have a few hours before you meet with a friend from Law School.

“Jeez, Nat. Let’s just wait for her answer”

Natasha insisted on a video call the minute you checked in.

“Fine. You’re good at reading people. What do you think she’ll say?”

“My guess?” you sigh. “They’ve known about Helios for a while. Their operation is very similar to Hydra. We were the only ones who could deal with Hydra. And now, we’re offering to do the work for the CIA, MI6 and Interpol”

“So they’ll say yes”

“But since we came asking for the favor first… I don’t know. Maybe Renfield will want some type of endorsement for her campaign. I can do that”

“I didn’t mean to put you in this position. I’m sorry”

“I offered. And it will be worth it if we can put Clint’s killers behind bars”

“Yeah…”

“Natasha, you can’t kill them”

“It could be an accident, detka”

“Stop, I’d like to know as little as possible in case this goes to trial”

“Fair enough” she chuckles. “By the way, can I use your computer? I need to check my email and my phone is being stupid”

“Sure, the password is our anniversary”

“Oh, ok”

“Right… It’s almost time for you to pick up Anya. And I want to take a bath and sleep a little. Tell her I love her and that I’ll call her later, please?”

“Yeah, for sure”

“Thanks, Tasha”

Walking away from your phone, you begin to get rid of your shirt and the black skirt falls to the ground. The bathtub is almost full so you go back to the bedroom in nothing but your underwear.

“Shit”

Natasha is still on the call, mouth wide open.

“I’m sorry, I thought you hung up”

“I thought you did” you mutter from the floor, hiding from the camera. “Byeee”

Damn it.

Natasha can almost remember what life was like before she lost her best friend.

The domesticity of picking up Anya, making sure she does her homework while dinner is ready. You’re the only piece of the puzzle that’s missing.

She desperately wants to make it all better. Fix all the mistakes she made, take back the hurtful words she threw at you when she was so angry at the world.

“Dinner’s gonna be ready in five” the redhead tells her daughter.

“Can we eat in the living room while watching Project Runway?”

“Yes, but don’t tell your mother”

“Mmkay”

Just then, she remembers the email that Maria sent and she was supposed to review. She goes to your study. Nothing’s really changed in the room. Every wall is covered with books and your desk is full of pictures of your family.

Even the ones from your wedding.

Natasha runs her hand through one of the pictures. She’s looking at the camera and you’re looking at her, with complete love and adoration.

How could she be so blind to throw it all away?

As she logs in, there’s a notification from your calendar.

Dinner with Cynthia Florrick - Finestra

She tries really hard to not think about it, but that name rings a bell.

Oh, right. The divorce lawyer that Pepper threatened to hire if Tony didn’t retire.

You’re meeting with a divorce lawyer in D.C.

Natasha lost you.

“Hi, I have a reservation under Florrick” you greet the hostess. It’s an expensive Italian restaurant full of big suits and elegant women.

Another thing you don’t miss about D.C.; their fixation on fancy clothes.

“Oh my God, it’s been ages!” your friend shouts. Her loud voice and manners are a little out of place among the clientele.

“Hi, Cyn” you hug her and take a seat. “Well, you won’t visit me in New York so I had to come to you”

“Oh, that’s soon about to change” she smirks. You don’t have a chance to ask why, as an older man walks behind you and she waves. “Cliff, so good to see you”

He gives her the side eye and walks away.

“He doesn’t look happy to see you”

“Oh, he’s just mad because I got his wife the lake house in the settlement. And anyway, as I was saying, I’m opening an office in New York and another one in San Diego”

“Congrats!”

“Yeah, baby. Call me the Tony Stark of family law”

“Well, I’ll be happy to introduce you to some people. You wouldn’t believe the divorce rate among spies”

“Not you and Natasha, right?”

“Oh, no! We’re doing great” you lie.

“Well, good to hear” Cynthia raises her glass of wine. “Let’s chat, gossip about everyone from college and celebrate that we’re both great”

It’s impossible to nap as you wait for the plane to land.

On Thursday, Secretary Renfield invited you to a luncheon with some of the biggest names in national security.

The attendees were drawn to you. After all, the Avengers had been successful where most intelligence agencies failed.

Before you left, she stood aside to brief you on her decision.

“The answer is yes. But with one condition. You lead the mission. Do you agree?”

“Yes”

“And you were right, I am aiming for the White House next year. If you feel inclined to show your support when that happens, I’ll be very grateful”

“Madam Secretary, you have my vote and my endorsement”

You can’t wait to tell Natasha the news.

Maybe, just maybe, your lives can go back to normal.

Bucky and Anya are the ones waiting for you at the terminal.

“Is… everything ok?”

“Yeah, I was just stealing this one for a baseball game” Bucky points at your daughter. “So you have a chance to catch up and get some rest”

“Well, it’s good to see you both” you smile, uncertain. Anya hugs you and she doesn’t seem too concerned, so you figure Bucky is telling the truth.

On the drive back home, you catch your daughter yawning a couple of times.

“You so went past your bedtime”

“Nuh-uh” she denies it.

“Yuh-uh”

“Real mature” Bucky mutters and you hit him.

“I leave for a day and everyone goes rogue”

“Good thing you’re back, then”

When you finally get home, Bucky helps you with the suitcase while Anya waits in the car.

“Ok, as your friend, I’m warning you that Natasha asked me to take Anya so she could talk to you”

“James!” you say, punching him again. “Why didn’t you say something? Did she look happy? Worried? What were her exact words?”

“I don’t know, just go talk to her. The game is about to start. Good luck”

He sprints down the stairs and you are left to drag your heavy suitcase across the hallway.

“Nat? Natasha?”

You walk to your office, where she’s sitting, looking at your wedding pictures.

“Hi there”

“Hello” she greets, her voice low. She looks defeated.

Your heart pounds in your ears.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t need you to do me any favors out of pity or whatever it is you feel for me. I thought I had a chance, and all this time you were thinking about a divorce. I’m an idiot” she chuckles, but it comes out as a sob.

“Am I in an alternate universe where I mentioned the word divorce? Because I’ve never brought it up”

“You met with a lawyer”

“Cynthia? You were spying on me?”

“The notification popped up on your computer when I was checking my emails”

“And instead of asking me, you go around making up scenarios. Just like you did last time, assuming I’d jump to bed with James. I get it, Natasha. You want to think the worst of me, that’s fucking fine. Let me know what other evil shit I’ll do next. Turn our daughter against you, maybe? Which would be really funny, considering I’ve made it a point to not tell her why you moved out of the house”

You look out the window, turning your back to her.

“You’re the only person that made me feel safe and happy and loved. All I ever wanted was to do the same for you. Even after everything, if you asked me to, I’d take you back in a heartbeat. I was so hurt because you kept pushing me away while you were sharing yourself with someone else. I thought you finally realized I couldn’t make you happy. And I love you and want to set you free, but I’m also too scared to let you go. So, sorry to disappoint you but if you want to move on, you’re gonna have to ask me for the divorce”

She’s silent as you pause to wipe your tears.

“So, are you gonna leave or what?” you bark out, impatient.

Natasha doesn’t move.

“Fine, I’ll go” you turn around, walking to the door. You’ll find a place to mourn, because this feels like the end, and you can’t take it. Natasha’s touch brings you back to earth. “What are you doing?”

“I-”

“Let me go” you plead, not turning around. She pulls you closer, spinning you until you face her.

“I’d be an idiot to let you go”

A sob escapes and she silences it with her mouth, pressing her lips against yours in a searing kiss.

It’s everything you need, to feel complete again. Natasha’s touch is your sanctuary and you welcome its warmth. Her arms slide down your waist and you keep her close as she begins to undo the buttons of your pants. You break apart for a moment to take your shirt off, asking her to do the same with a tug.

“Let me take care of you” she pleads, going down and leaving a trail of kisses across your exposed skin. Your knees buckle when she reaches your underwear. “It’s ok, I got you”

Trusting, you allow her to lap at your folds, but the pressure is too much so you begin to lower yourself to the floor. Natasha makes sure that you’re comfortable and then resumes her ministrations, soft and deep.

It’s not possessive, but very intense. She’s soft and considerate, taking her time to build up the pleasure, until you’re on the brink of orgasm, holding her face close to your center until you ride every wave.

“Was that ok?” she hovers over you and you taste yourself in her lips.

“Yes. But I need more”

“How much more?”

“A lot more”

Three hours later and you’re in bed, clothes scattered across the floor.

Well, Natasha’s clothes. Yours are still at your office.

“Was it good?” Natasha whispers and you make a face. “What?”

“You’ve never asked me that before. And now, this is the second time you do it”

“I just want to make sure you liked it”

“I did. Very much liked it. In fact, like might be a bit of an understatement”

“Ok, good” she turns to her side and you do the same, your faces an inch away from each other. “So, what do we do now?”

“Well… we have a mission to complete. Then we can worry about the rest”

“Renfield said yes?” she asks, shocked. You nod.

“On the condition that I lead the mission. And I think we should tell the team, Nat. They deserve to know”

Natasha sighs, sitting up.

“Maybe we should just let someone else handle this”

“It’s not like us to let the bad guys get away with it” you kiss her shoulder, resting your chin against her arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I just got you back. What if something happens?”

“Everything will be alright. We do this together”

“Together” she promises, her forehead resting against yours.

Taglist: @wandabear, @thatonebrazilian, @canvascoloredin, @ctrlamira, @dvrkhcld, @username23345, @unexpected-character, @how-to-disappearrr, @casquinhaa, @cd-4848

#Natasha Romanoff x Reader #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff x you

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waves-against-a-cliff · 1 month

Text

Bittersweet Goodbye - Gaz x Reader Bakery AU

Content Warnings - None.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Truthfully, Gaz thinks that the two of you are past the stage of being shy around each other. Clearly, you don’t feel that way. You’ve been avoiding his gaze the entire time he’s been sitting here while waiting for his order. The order that you didn’t take like you normally would, instead another co-worker did, who looked like this was the last thing they wanted to do. Probably works in the back, Gaz thinks as he watches you try and bargain with the same co-worker to give him his items. He watches your face fall and you bring him his bag of goodies and the coffee he ordered. “Thanks love.” He says and grins a little when you avert your eyes before briskly walking back behind the counter with a mumbled ‘have a good day’.

When he gets home, he checks his emails and sees one from Price which means only one thing. He has to report to duty soon. Gaz opens the email and scrolls through its contents, he feels his hands go clammy when he sees he’s expected to be on base for a briefing in three days. Fuck and right when you’ve become all shy for no reason. Or, Gaz thinks back to the previous night and groans to himself.

He must’ve come on too strong. But you had been leaning in for the kiss too until the oven went off. “Fuck!” What did he do to make you clam up so tight? Gaz paces around his flat, probably driving the people in the flat below him insane, as he tries to figure out what could have happened. But he comes up empty.

So, he waits until you come home and tries not to think about how this feels like stalker behavior on his part. When he hears the familiar click-clack of your kitten heels on the tile hallway floor, he grabs his gym bag (he figured he has to have a valid excuse), and walks out of his apartment. “O-oh! Kyle. Um, didn’t realize you left around this time.” You squawk when you see him, darting your eyes away from his. He thinks he hates that most of whatever has caused you to go shy, the fact he can’t see your eyes because you’re looking anywhere but him.

“I was just heading to the gym for a night session.” He explains and gestures to his duffel bag. You nod and unlock your door despite your clearly trembling hands.

“Well, have fun.” You chirp and you’re about to go, hand on the doorknob, before he places his hand on yours. You snap your wide eyes to him and his heartbeat quickens.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks and you shake your head, eyes still wide. “Are you sure? If it's something I said I want to apologize, love.”

“You didn’t do or say anything.” You squeak, “I’m sorry.”

Gaz furrows his brows, “Okay.” but he’s unconvinced.

“Okay, would you like to come over on Sunday for some more taste testing?” You ask and he winces. “Is that a bad time?”

Gaz takes a deep breath before he explains that, “I’m being deployed again, three days to be specific.”

“But its only been a week!” You protest, “Thats not nearly long enough.”

“I know love but-”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, find out.” You demand. “I’m gonna send you stuff so you can still taste test even if you’re on the opposite side of the world from me.”

Gaz chuckles at your determination before he says, “Alright, I’ll let you know which base to send your cookies to.”

#gaz x reader #gaz call of duty #gaz mw2 #gaz x female reader #gaz x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick #mw2 gaz #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz x you #cod mw2

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minimomoe · 3 months

Text

Lipstick Fist

Pairing: Nanami x Black Reader (Mafia AU!)

Rating: 19+ MDNI

Word ct: 7k

tags: violence (not towards reader), nanami just wants to be with his wife, pet names (darling, sweetheart, etc), blood kink, fingering, blow job, vaginal sex, mating press... hmm I think that's it

Preview: You looked up at his face once again and Nanami also noticed the stain, bringing his hand up to wipe the bloody rivulet off from under his nose but you stopped him from doing that by leaning down for a kiss. You quickly moved your lips against his, taking his top lip in between yours and the metallic taste of iron filled your mouth....

Song inspo: you've seen the butcher- deftones

~~~

There’s only a few things that Kento Nanami truly hated. Traffic, soggy bread, and idiots to name some. Traffic and soggy bread are usually the products of stupidity and carelessness, so idiots are actually on the top of his shitlist. So many things could’ve been avoided if somebody, anybody, would’ve just taken the time to think. But that would be asking for too much. He never wanted to be the voice of reason in most situations. He’d rather not talk at all.

Except when it came to you. The light of his life, the apple of his eye, his slice of heaven with soft serve ice cream on top. He could be completely honest to you, almost childishly complaining about the idiots in the world and you are the one true person on his side, even if he’s being a little dramatic. If only he could hole away with you forever and leave all of his troubles behind. Just the thought of doing that made his shoulders lighter, but there was always more work to be done.

And today there seems to be a never ending flow of work for him. He checked his watch and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He was supposed to already be on his way home to you by now.

And you knew that. You had spent the day running errands, but when you called Nanami earlier he still told you that he was still caught up and that you might have to eat dinner without him. You could hear the fatigue in his voice and frowned at the thought. You had finished your own errands for the day and opted to try out a new bakery along with some last minute grocery items. It didn’t feel right heading straight home while you knew that Nanami was only twenty minutes away from your location, and Gojo, the closest person your husband has to a best friend, was texting you like he wasn’t busy at all.

Against your better judgment you rerouted the driver to the bar where you were going to patiently wait for your husband to finish his duties and come to meet you until you saw a familiar head of white hair sauntering into a building.

“Stop the car, please. I’ll be good from here,” you told the driver and their face paled.

“Ma’am we should really—“

“I’ll be just fine. You know Gojo, right? Don’t let me tell him that you’re doubting his abilities,” you said, already out of the car and deciding to take the box from the bakery with you. “Just stand on by. If anything happens, scoop me up.” You gave one last smile to the driver and shut the far, the dark tinted windows blocking out their face. You whipped around in search of Gojo and were surprised to see him so close behind you already. You could’ve sworn he was already inside the building.

“What are you doing on this side of town?”

“I wanted to see Kento. Surprise him with some food,” you said fondly and held up the box.

“He’s not here,” Gojo said coolly. His rounded sunglasses did little to block out the intensity of his eyes that peeled through. They glowed almost neon in the sunlight.

“Gojo, don’t play with me.” Your smile dropped immediately and you walked past him to enter the building.

“No need to get all spikey. I was obviously joking. Are any of those for me?” He was referring to the takeout box in your hand and you gave him a dry “no.”

“You’re just like Nanamin. No wonder you’re married to him.”

The sentence made you warm inside, a smirk growing on your face. Your footsteps echoed in the warehouse, walking through the garage entrance still in search of your lover. You stuck to the walls and shadows, not wanting to disturb anybody.

“Where is he?” You called out behind you to Gojo.

“Why should I tell you? It’s not like you’re ever nice to me.” Gojo crossed his arms over his chest and you rolled your eyes. The fact that he wore black jeans and t-shirt made him illuminate even more outside of the sun. His glasses pushed his hair up and out of his face now, a faux pout decorating it while you scanned the area.

From outside you could hear a car engine rumble and pull-up to the garage opening and Gojo was by your side immediately, like he teleported next to you.

“Who’s that?” You whispered when he pulled you away deeper into the shadows. You knew it was for your sake rather than his own, as Gojo wouldn’t hide from anyone.

“Probably somebody I pissed off. Maybe. I can’t keep track anymore.”

Three men clambered out of the car. The two younger ones in the back statues behind the taller, more imposing man in the front. His frame filled his clothing, his blue jeans and leather jacket nearly bursting at the seams. From the far corner of the room you saw your husband emerge from a door, his eyebrows pinched together in annoyance when he saw the visitor.

“Gojo aren’t you going to help him?”

It’s not that you didn’t think Nanami couldn’t handle whatever this was about to be. You never doubted your husband’s abilities, but the other man had death flaming behind his eyes and it was hard to watch Nanami on the other side of that gaze. He took heavy steps towards Nanami, each footfall flooding your heart with dread. You wanted to call out to him but decided against it when you felt Gojo’s touch.

“He doesn’t need help. I think he’d beat my ass if I stepped in,” Gojo chuckled, holding your shoulders and gently pulling you back. You clutched the desert that you had brought with you and sighed. Gojo was right, there was nothing you could do to help him. You would only get in his way and that is not something that you wanted to do. It was already enough that you arrived unannounced.

“I was told that there’s a blond with four eyes working here. You’re the one who sent my men away?”

Nanami sighs and takes a glance to the left of him, then the right of him and then looks back at the burly man. He’s not that much different in height, just a few inches taller the closer he walked up to Nanami and had his hair slicked back in a greasy curtain.

“Do you see any other blond four eyes?”

Nanami could see the anger building up in the other man, his jaw getting tighter and his fingers twitching at his sides. “You can’t just fuck me over like that. We had a deal ,” he seethed through clenched teeth.

“Yes. We had a deal, and now we don’t. Last time I checked, you brought the shipment an hour late. Do you know how long an hour is? What I could've done with that time?” Nanami was especially pissed because it had kept him from getting back home to you sooner. He absolutely despised when his time with you got cut short. It took everything in him to not say “fuck it” and be as reckless and uncaring as everybody else is but he has standards he holds himself to.

“You still got it. I’m sure you found them useful.”

Nanami gave a dull stare to the other side of the warehouse clearing where whatever shipment of something you were in the dark about sat. The other man sputtered up, his face growing redder by the second and he began to shout. Nanami took off his glasses and produced a lens wipe from his back pocket. Gojo was giggling beside you, shaking his head at the encounter but you could only watch them intently. The only time you drew your eyes away from them was when you felt movement in your hands, only to find out that Gojo was trying to open the box from the bakery you had brought for your husband. You swatted his hand away from poking at it.

“Oh come on! You always bring him something and never me!”

“We’re not married, Satoru.”

“So what, you have to be married to be nice now? I’ve always made sure that Kento is safe and sound when you’re not around,” he pouted.

“Oh really? And what's going on over there?”

“That,” he pointed, snagging a muffin out of the box you finally opened for him. He read the cover of it, mentally filing away the name “Love Bites” for later. “Is a person making the biggest mistake of their life. I’m surprised Nanami’s even entertaining them,” he said with a full mouth. You jumped and closed the box when you saw the other man start to get rowdy and suddenly had a pointed gun at Nanami.

You gasped, your heart paralyzed but Nanami stayed as calm and collected as ever. The henchmen that the other man brought with him started to laugh amongst themselves, and Gojo, who still remained by your side, took another bite of his muffin.

“What to do Nanamin, what to do,” he muttered.

Nanami looked past the barrel and straight ahead. “If you kill me now what happens? We still won’t need you, and you start a war. How does that help you at all?”

“I’ll start with your ass, then the bitch standing over there like a lost puppy and the white haired freak next to her. I can worry about the rest later.”

Nanami paused for only a second. He didn’t know that you were here, but knowing that Gojo was with you made him a little less worried. Nanami still had no idea why you decided to come, and the fact that this man had the audacity to bring you into it made him snap, whether he actually knew who you were or not.

“It looks like I touched a nerve,” he smirked when Nanami was still unmoving, shifting his gun and body from Nanami to where you were standing with Gojo but was no longer there. Gojo had hurried you up the stairs to the upper level of the warehouse as soon as he had finished his muffin because he had the suspicion that you would become an interest to the newcomer. The man’s smile faltered when he no longer saw you, and now that you were out of harm's way, Nanami removed his tie. You had an overhead view of Nanami from the balcony. You watched him wrap his yellow and brown spotted tie around his knuckles, slowly and deliberately, and walked surely towards the other man.

“Where the fuck did she–”

But he never got to finish the question because Nanami’s fist collided with his jaw. It was a sickening sound, like a wrecking ball smacking a brick wall. It was a hard enough impact that you winced and touched your own face. Satoru let out a huff of laughter, his eyes bright like he was watching a movie. The man staggered back, stunned by the hit so powerful the gun he held fell out of his hand and skidded on the floor. Before he could find his footing Nanami striked again, aiming for the center in his stomach and the other man was wheezing, walking away to stretch the space between him and Nanami, but there was no going back now. Nanami had one goal in mind that could not be stopped until it was achieved, and that was to have this man regret ever questioning him in the first place.

“Five minutes,” Gojo said, leaning close to your ear but his eyes were still glued to the fight.

“What?”

“I bet Nanami’s gonna lay slickback’s ass out in five minutes. Probably even less.”

Your gaze trailed back to Nanami and he had the other man's shirt crumpled in his hand and his voice was gravely deep.

“Tell me the real reason why you’re here. There has to be a better reason than this.”

“You all think you’re such hot shit but you guys need me. Nobody else will even—“

“I don’t need you,” Nanami growled.

The dark haired man sneered, spitting in Nanami’s face and his mouth was full of blood as he spoke. “She means something to you, doesn’t she? I should’ve used her to make something shake a long time ago.”

He took Nanami by surprise and smashed his head into his face. You took a step closer but Gojo held you back, his hand heavy on your shoulder. You didn’t even notice that you were so close to the balcony already. Nanami’s teeth bared themselves when his knee came up to crush the man’s stomach, then when he was hunched over Nanami delivered a sharp hook to the side of his face. The other man dropped to his knees and waved his arms around, his senses lagging behind and he couldn’t tell when or where Nanami was going to hit him next.

You watched Nanami’s powerful arms strike the man with dangerous precision, aiming for weak spots and the sound of awful thumping echoing in the warehouse. The henchmen that had accompanied him stood in horror as they watched their boss turn into a human punching bag. The man on the floor was still fighting, trying to get a grip on Nanami and failing miserably because his arms were never quick nor strong enough to stop the next blow coming down on his body. Blood splattered on Nanami’s face and clothes yet he didn’t stop until the man below him was motionless.

Gojo finally clapped his hands together, walked towards the edge of the balcony, then cupped his hands around his mouth to call Nanami.

“Look at the mess you're making, Nanamin. I’m the one who usually overdoes it,” he teased. Nanami slowly looked up to Gojo, his breathing finally slowing down. The anger that allowed him to beat someone to a pulp was still etched in his face, wrinkles pronounced and with his lips set in a hard line, and it shot electricity down your spine. He caught a glance of you, looking down at him like an angel of sorts and his gaze softened. You wore a shale pink wrap dress, your hair piled high on top of your head and eyes as wide as an owl’s. He really wished you hadn’t been there but it was comforting to know that you didn’t run for the hills at his outburst. You were still there, shock evident in your face and an undercurrent of something else he couldn’t quite place, but concern was clearly the heavier emotion. Above all you were worried about him .

Nanami felt something brush his ankle and peered down at his feet. A weak hand clawed at him, making Nanami raise a brow. “You can still move? Let’s fix that.”

“Boss?” One of the henchmen called out, terrified for their leader yet hope was laced in their voice, like he could possibly turn this around. Nanami didn’t like the sound of that at all. He shoved the other man in his side with his feet until he flipped over on his stomach facing the two guests.

More blood sputtered out of his lips when he tried to crawl away as Nanami watched him impassively. When he failed for the third time Nanami pressed one foot in the middle of his shoulder blades, forcing him back down and he protested against it.

“Since neither of you tried to intervene, I’m assuming he told you not to. Or maybe he was going to use this as a learning lesson,” he said, reaching down to pull at his arms. “And I do hope that you learn something from this.” Nanami eased his foot off of his body so that his chest was suspended off the floor by his arms only. The warehouse was deathly quiet before Gojo spoke.

“He’s really taking a page out of my book,” Gojo gasped. His hands pressed over your ears and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the scene. His hands did nothing to muffle the howling that ensued, the acoustic building amplifying the pleas for mercy and screams, making your teeth ache. Your husband was pushing his foot back down, pulling the arms in and up until his shoulders no longer held them in place and they were rendered useless.

“You can always be replaced in this business,” he said to them when the wails subsided.

“Except for you, Nanamin! I love you too much to let you go,” Gojo shouted, then dropped his hands from your ears.

Nanami rolled his eyes then watched the two younger men retreat back to their car, the tires screeching as they ran away.

“I know you’re rolling your eyes but I mean it!”

The man beneath Nanami made a gurgling noise and Nanami squatted down next to him and grabbed the strands of hair on his head into a ponytail, lifting up his face. It’s swollen, bloodied and unrecognizable from the hothead who came in early. More blood and drool dripped down onto the floor and Nanami gave his head a harsh tug for him to listen.

“I want you to remember this. In your very last moments, the men who you thought swore their loyalties to you, the ones who you’ve been working with for decades upon decades, all ran away like rats and left you here to rot. You will die forgotten, and I think that’s quite fitting since I just can’t bother to remember your name.”

He released his hair and his face fell back into the concrete once again.

“Aren’t you afraid they might come back?” You asked Gojo as you rushed down the stairs to meet Nanami.

“Pfft, no,” Gojo snorted. “We’re at the top. Like Ken said, let this be a lesson to all of them.”

It’s a very different sentiment from the Nanami you knew intimately. He never ran out of patience with you; he had endless pools of it. When you reached ground level you practically threw yourself in his arms. He caught you with ease, cupping the back of your head into his chest. Under the heavy smell of blood his familiar scent filled your nose and you took deep breaths of it to calm down. You didn’t realize how fast your heart was thumping until you felt it against Nanami’s ribs.

“Me next!” Gojo opened his arms and hugged the both of you, making you giggle. “You really do pay attention to everything I do, Ken. Is that why I dreamed of you last night?”

“What are you dreaming about with my husband?”

“Absolutely nothi–”

“I don’t want to make you jealous,” Gojo interrupted, nuzzling his chin into the top of your head and Nanami swatted him away. “I’ll have somebody clean up the mess.”

“Good,” Nanami muttered. When Gojo released the two of you, you fretted over Nanami’s hands. His knuckles that were covered with the tie were less raw than the one without, but they were both an angry shade of red.

“God, Ken, I just came so that we can enjoy this new bakery I found on the way back home and then this happens,” you frowned.

Nanami gave a small smile and kissed the top of your head. “I’m fine.”

“That’s what you always say! That’s why I have to worry for the both of us.”

Gojo tutted in agreement. “Go to the bar and check to see if Shoko’s there. It’s technically after hours but she might be lingering around. And you look like you need a drink anyways.”

Nanami nodded and his hand wrapped around your waist before you could move, walking with you to the car that was prepared for the short drive. You winked at the driver once you sat down inside, then tucked yourself right next to Nanami.

When you arrived at the bar, Choso notified you that you had just missed Shoko and you sighed. He saw the weariness in your eyes led you to a room down a hallway in the back.

“I’ll come back with a drink for Nanami. I’m assuming you’d want something strong, right?”

“Yes, thank you,” Nanami sighed, putting his jacket down on the chair near the bed. It was a sparse room with a queen sized bed, two nightstands, and a small clothed chair. A closed door in the corner that you assumed was the closet next to an open door that led to a bathroom and no windows could be found. When Choso started speaking again you turned to face him.

“Anything for you?” Choso asked you and you shook your head.

“No, no drinks for me.”

“I’ll be back soon,” he nodded and you rubbed his shoulder appreciatively. He closed the door behind him and you locked it when he let go of the handle.

You rested your back against the door and looked at Nanami who was sitting at the edge of the bed.

“Come here,” he mumbled , and you pushed yourself off to walk into his open arms. They wrapped around you tightly and you combed his hair back. You didn’t say anything to him. You didn’t need to. Nanami did this all the time, silently recharging himself through physical touch and you were happy to help. You gently massaged his scalp with your fingernails until you heard soft rapping on the door again. Nanami grumbled something that you didn’t catch fully but you couldn’t help laughing.

“You did ask for a drink,” you reminded, and sure enough when you opened the door Choso had an amber drink in a crystal glass ready for you on a platter. He also brought a whole bottle for Nanami.

“Thanks Choso,” you smiled, and he gave you a small nod.

“Stay as long as you need,” he told you, then waved at Nanami who returned the gesture after he removed his dress shirt.

You locked the door for the last time, putting the drinks on the side table and going to the bathroom to get a washcloth for cleaning. When you stood in front of him again, his legs bracketing around yours, you started to wipe away the hand that he wasn’t using to down his drink. His knuckles weren’t as bad as you had initially thought as you cleaned them. The dried blood proved to be the other man's, the clearer Nanami’s skin became. There was only slight redness from irritation. You kissed the knuckles you cleaned individually.

The fight from earlier replayed in your head, making you slow down. His show of precision, his power, his steadiness were all insanely attractive and you felt yourself suddenly getting shy. Nanami felt the change too and asked what was wrong.

“I think there’s something wrong with me,” you let out a breathy chuckle heavy with arousal and patted his shoulders. His hand rested on your waist, gently trying to calm you down and he looked up at you adoringly.

“What makes you say that?”

You stared at his open collarbone, the pale skin underneath rising and falling with each breath he took, trying to keep your breath steady but failed when you looked into his eyes. If you had to choose a favorite feature of Nanami’s face, you would always choose his eyes. They were the warmest shade of brown that you have ever known, just deep pools of unyielding love for you and everything you have ever done. Right now they were slightly pained, not because of the fight that happened but because he wanted to know what’s on your mind and you were stalling. He was afraid that he might’ve scared you earlier. He hated to lose his temper in front of the only person he swore to never raise his voice at. Even though his anger wasn’t directed towards you at all it still bothered him.

You, on the other hand, had a completely different concern, one that was caused from the heat pooling lower in your nether regions. You trailed your gaze down further, inspecting his nose that you remembered got bashed. Nanami was complacent, moving like putty in your hands and craned his neck in any position you needed. There was no swelling or bruising forming, which you were grateful for. You got to admire him quietly in the process and a ghost of a smile danced on your lips. Your husband was so damn beautiful.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” he muttered.

“No,” you agreed. “It probably isn’t. We’ll have Shoko look at it later though. Just in case.”

“He truly took me by surprise.”

“I know, baby, I know. I’m just glad he can no longer hurt you” you crooned. You must have had his head leaning down for too long, or pressed him too hard, as a drop of blood dripped from his nose to the undershirt. The scarlet stain looked neon against the white fabric and it was the only blood mark on his clothes that was his. The rest of the splatter was from the bastard who found the wrong person to annoy on the right day. You looked up at his face once again and Nanami also noticed the stain, bringing his hand up to wipe the rivulet off from under his nose but you stopped him from doing that by leaning down for a kiss. You quickly moved your lips against his, taking his top lip in between yours and the metallic taste of iron filled your mouth. Nanami moaned quietly, taken by surprise by your action but tightened his hold on your hip to steady you, his other hand propping himself up behind him as you leaned in further, getting more of your fill and pushing him into the bed.

You straddle your legs around his waist, clutching his collar and running your tongue in his mouth. Your head was getting lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. When you finally came up to breathe you pulled back, groaning at the sight of Nanami even more disheveled and his blood smeared over his top lip. You finally remembered yourself, then grabbed the towel that had fallen into the sheet and finally wiped it off of his face.

“I’m sorry. I just… like I said, I think there’s something wrong with me. I was worried about you the whole time, of course I was, but more than anything else I wanted to drag you into bed. You should be resting,” you rushed out, shame creeping up your neck. You began to crawl off of Nanami, one leg already on the floor but he stopped your departure and your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“You got me right where you wanted me and now you’re leaving? You’re always such a tease,” he muttered inside your wrist and you were sure that he could taste your heartbeat pounding beneath the skin.

Your voice stuck to your throat when you tried to speak out. “Ken…”

“Mmm, don’t “Ken” me,” he smiled. His fingertips danced up your thigh, slipping underneath your dress and hiking it farther up. He brushed your dampening crotch and your breath hitched.

“You’re the one who likes to see me bloody and breathing heavy, right?”

“It’s not a bad look,” you squeaked. His hand pushed past your waistband and circled your clit until you grasped the back of his hair. Nanami’s hands were going to drive you out of your own mind and he knew it.

“And what else did you like?” He gathered the wetness from your entrance, rubbing your clit more intently. You were soaking and only getting wetter. He didn’t tease you so much that you could not answer but it would not be without stuttering. You looked down at him, his face smushed to your chest with those pretty brown eyes of his blinking at you, waiting for your response.

“You know I’ve always been a fan of your ha -hands.”

Such strong yet gentle hands. Big enough to cover large portions of your body but always delicate towards you. His hands were perfect.

He smirked at you, now using two fingers to fuck you. They stroked and curled in the spongey spot deep inside and you started to grind your hips into his hand, unable to help yourself. “Yes, I think I’m aware.”

“And your voice, baby. You only yelled at him once but I heard you the entire time,” you panted.

“But you know that I would never do that to you? I would never act like that to you.” His eyebrows were scrunched up at you, begging for you to understand and his face was your undoing. His fingers never stopped moving, curling inside to stroke you just right.

“I know, Kento. It’s just the fact that you can do that. N-not to me but– fuck, faster please. Just a little more.” You raised his chin up to mesh your lips on his, whimpering into the kiss as he gave you exactly what you wanted. His fingers quickly drew out an orgasm from you, one that released only some of the tension that had been building up in you for the past hour. Your pussy drenched his fingers with your release and you hid your face in Nanami’s shoulder. Kento eased more tremors out of your body and your teeth sunk into his shoulder. He wished you didn’t always try to hide your face when you came. He knew that now it was because you two weren’t in the comfort of your own home and wanted to be quiet, but Nanami loved to see your mouth pop open and a watch a silent scream fall out, or his personal favorite, when you murmured his name over and over again like it was the only word in the world, pleading and thanking him all at once, but that meant that he would have to keep going until he got the reaction that he wanted.

Nanami removed his hand and sucked them clean while you caught your breath. You watched him from the corner of your eyes as you rested on his shoulder and gave a breathless giggle.

“You made me come and I didn’t even take off my clothes.”

You lifted your head off and peered at your husband.

“I can still make you come without your clothes. I actually plan on doing that multiple times.”

You stood up and walked slowly away from him, pulling at the knot on your dress and hummed. “Kento, I want to do you first. I've wanted to jump your bones since we got in the car.” Your dress unraveled and Nanami’s cock strained in his pants. A sheer balconette bra welcomed him, along with matching sheer panties that matched the color of your dress. The swell of your breasts and nipples were apparent through the bra, poking through the fabric and his jaw twitched. He didn’t know if he wanted to tear clothes off of your body or fuck you in the set. You obviously took the time to get dressed for him, your eyes searching for response as you did a slow turn. You let the dress hang off your arms when your back was faced to him, then reveal the curves of your body when you dropped it on the floor.

Nanami took a dry swallow.

A sly smile formed on your lips when you walked back to him. While placing your hands on his thighs, you locked eyes with your husband and slowly sank to your knees, your gaze unwavering when you started to undo his belt.

You could see how hard he was through his pants and it made your sex pulse. Once you finally freed him from his constraints, you palmed him slowly and placed a sultry kiss on the head of his cock. Nanami widened his legs for you to nestle in between, then placed his hand on your face, stroking the apple of your cheek softly.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned. “Are you sure your knees aren’t hurting?” He asked but he already fixed a pillow for you to stand on. Once you repositioned yourself, you decorated his cock with more kisses on the way to the base, then flattened your tongue heavy with saliva, taking a slow, long stripe up to the head and swallowed as much as you could. It was no easy feat. If you were to ask Nanami he would tell you that he is an average size, nothing special, but your jaw ached from taking him in.

Nanami thrusted his hips shallowly into your mouth, the warmth of your tongue making it hard for him to restrain himself, and you matched his rhythm. The rest of him that couldn’t fit in your mouth was covered by your fingers, wrapping around the shaft and twisting it with your spit. When he reached the back of your throat you moaned around him, the vibrations making him throw his head back. His chest heaved rapidly when he looked back down at you, his eyes full of lust and desire.

“You let me do anything to this pretty mouth of yours,” he rasped. Your mouth made a crisp pop when you took your lips off of him, and his thumb immediately went to outline your lips, glossy with his precum and your saliva. You teased the slit of his cock with your own thumb, clenching your legs together at the sharp hissing sounds he made.

“You never do anything I’d say no to,” you said, putting him back in your mouth and he cursed under his breath. Even with the orgasm you had a few minutes ago the heat was building up inside of you again. Your panties were soaked, you could feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. Like everything else on your body, your mouth was sensitive, and the noises Nanami was making only spurred you on.

“I’m going to come,” Nanami said as a warning. His jaw was tight, rolling over when you batted your lashes up at him and continued to take him further down your throat. The heat of your mouth and your tongue moving against him brought him closer to the peak. It was clear that you had no intentions of letting him go early, so when he felt like he was finally nearing the end he begged you to look at him.

“Gorgeous,” he murmured. “You take me so well.”

To avoid letting him see the blood rushing to your face, you attempted to brush your nose to his happy trail, taking him as far as you could. He came with soft moans escaping his mouth and his thighs jerked up slightly. You rubbed them down, looking back up at him to see his eyes washed with pleasure. With a stare dunk in lust, he dragged you up and on top of him again, slowly maneuvering into the center of the bed while his lips overtook yours. It was a sloppy kiss, and he could taste himself on your tongue but there was still the taste of you so he wanted more. You reached down below, rubbing his cock head on your clit after moving your panties to the side. Neither of you could be bothered to take them off properly and he bit your bottom lip in response.

“I think I want to hear you beg,” you murmured along his jaw. “You’ve been awfully calm this whole time and it’s not fair.”

Nanami let out a strained noise. “We have very different understandings of what ‘calm’ is.”

He thought that he was barely holding it together. His hands feverishly ran over your body, starting with your breasts, then the back of your thighs before gripping your ass. You continued to tease him, only allowing the tip to enter before taking it out repeatedly. Labored breaths made his chest heave and he looked up at you with those beautiful eyes again.

“Please, honey. You said you wanted to have me since getting in the car right?”

Your hand cupped the base of his neck, squeezing slightly and you nodded.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“There’s no need to wait anymore.”

He planted a kiss right in the middle of your chest. His hands were now on your waist, warming up your sides.

“I want to feel you. I’m all yours now so fuck me.”

The end of his sentence had curled into a growl. It was more of a demand than a plea. His hands were back on your hips, not so subtly trying to get you to sit down. The edge of his teeth wrapped around your nipple and you settled down on the base of his shaft. You both moaned when he bottomed out.

Nanami tugged on your nipple before lapping it with his tongue. He was deep seated in your warmth but trying to be mindful before taking over. You were adjusting to him, grinding softly on him to stretch yourself out.

“You were made for me, Kento,” you groaned. You opened your eyes that were previously squeezed shut and rolled your hips into his. Nanami unlatched his mouth from his nipple and looked up at you in awe. Yes he was made for you. He was yours to use and wasn’t afraid to let you know that. Your eyes screwed shut again when you slowly lifted up to come back down on him, his length scraping your insides.

“All for you. I need you to look at me,” he begged. You came down on him harder, the sounds of your coupling filling the room, and the bed began to groan wearily underneath. You picked up the speed and opened your eyes per his request. His were wide and unwavering, watching you closely to match your rhythm, and his skin was warm with blush. His fingernails dug into and bit the plush of your hips. You leaned in to touch your forehead on his, gazing deep at your husband, sharing his breaths. With the hand that wasn’t on his neck you combed it up the back of his nape and tugged his hair down, tipping his face up and ghosted your lips over his mouth.

“Fuck me harder,” you dragged out. “Make me cum.”

The burn in your thighs were proof of your hard work but you needed more of him. Pressing chest to chest and lips to lips was not enough. Nanami’s thumb reached the slippery mess where you were joined to him to circle your clit and he swallowed the moans that ensued. He pistoned up into your pussy, responding to your order. His teeth grazed on any open skin to him. Nanami felt the sex drunkenness seep into his veins. It filled his head with only you, the best way to get you to curl and stretch with pleasure. You only urged him along, nipping the lobes of his ear to mutter more obscenities that made his body crave you.

“Just like that Kento. I’m almost right there, can you feel it? I want you to fuck me good, Kenny. I want you dripping out of me. Can you do that for me, baby? Harder , Kento, I need— fuck. ”

You knew the reaction you were looking for with your words. It did not surprise you when your back was on the bedding and you were pressed into the mattress. Everything was white hot. You clawed him closer, but being ever the gentleman, Nanami slipped out of you and with a desperate whimper you felt the cool air slip between your bodies. Grabbing another pillow he adjusted some below you in a quick manner and his hands returned to your waist.

His gaze on you kept your body sizzling, his cock head parting the seam of your sex and a shudder ran through you. Your pussy clenched around nothing, aching.

“ Please ,” you whined. You raised your hips up to usher him inside and he did, welcoming your warmth and sighing into it. Tilting your head up for a kiss, your tongue ran in his mouth and you tried to clasp your legs around him. You were unable to as he started to pick up speed, fucking you deep until he reached the end of you, his pelvis brushing your clit and causing moans to tumble into his mouth.

“So soft,” he murmured, lacing his fingers through your hands and bringing it to the top of your head on the pillow. “You remind me how to be soft.”

“Kento,” you moaned. With your hands pinned above your head you felt more exposed, even though his body covered yours entirely. You could feel every muscle of his ripple above you. He never sacrificed speed over power, driving you out of your mind.

The noises you were making in his ear, your tongue tasting his skin, the way that you dragged him in deeper, begging for him to stay inside and fill you up made his need for you from a scorching flames threatening to engulf you both.

In a strangled moan he fucked you harder. The bed creaked dangerously, the headboard banging on the wall and all previous cautions of keeping quiet were forgotten. Nanami released your hands, instead cupping his palms to the back of your knees and flattened you into the bed. With every thrust he lost a little bit of himself in you, giving himself to you just like you asked, kissing you so hard your lips bruised and your head spun. It was like he was trying to apologize for his nature and you couldn’t get it through to him that you didn’t care. There was nothing that Nanami could do that would ever push you away from him, so you tried to show him the depths of your love in any way you could.

“I want us to come together,” he said, his own voice betraying him by cracking at the end. You opened your tear stained eyes, holding your husband’s gaze.

Your eyebrows pinched together and you tried to follow his request but it was hard when he was so deep inside of you, causing all your muscles to pull taut like a wire.

“Kento,” you murmured, your vision getting wavy around your peripheral but his eyes remained as clear as ever. You didn’t need to say anything more than that. He understood that you were reaching your limit and he could barely hold on himself.

“Kento,” you said again, and a faint smile danced on his lips. It was happening, the favorite part of sex with you. Your eyes gazed down to where you two were joined, watching him disappear inside of you and another strangled approximation of his name left your mouth again. The spring in your stomach coiled tighter and tighter, getting ready to burst as Kento changed to languid strokes that unraveled you perfectly. Time slowed down and every touch and sound the both of you were making was magnified tenfold.

You didn’t even realize when you had shattered once again. It happened so quickly, like lightning striking down on you but the aftershocks lingered. Your face was wet with tears and his lips were quick to catch them as he came down his own high.

You heard a voice, a tired and hoarse one you quickly realized that was your own, still repeating the syllables that made up his name. Kento held himself over you, trying to catch his breath. He gently unfolded your body, taking note of any sounds you made that might indicate pain.

“Don’t go,” you grumbled. You could feel the mess you both made in the sheets. The slight movements Kento made still inside of you only pushed out his come.

“I need to clean you up. We need to do something about the bed too.”

“God, don’t remind me.”

Nanami stamped a kiss on your forehead, then two, then three.

“I’m positive that we made enough noise for Choso to hear.”

“You’re the worst. Just horrid.”

You could hear him grinning while you covered your face in your hands. Nanami carefully pried your hands apart. Another kiss between your eyebrows was placed.

“I was made just for you so that makes two of us,” he laughed. The embarrassment still burned your face yet you couldn’t help but to laugh with him.

“I love that sound,” he said fondly. Nanami’s nose rubbed against yours and your laughter fizzled into nervous giggles. “I love you.”

You cupped his face, his ears slotting between your fingers and traced his bottom lip with your top lip.

“I love you,” you breathed.

Nanami never left between your legs, partly because you told him not to, partly because he didn’t want to just yet. Whatever the reason was, you could feel him hardening again inside, immediately reciprocating your mounting arousal.

You took his mouth, deepening it as soon as he welcomed your tongue. With the strength you had left in your body you pulled him down on top of your, welcoming the heavy pressure. You drifted further into the bed, showing your love to each other over and over again.

#minimoe #momowritings #black fem reader #x black reader #heavy smut #nanami is a wife guy #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #nanami smut #jjk fanfic #mafia au #minimomoe

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