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syddsatyrn · 2 months

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Omg your requests are open. I've seen some of your work and it's amazing❤️

Can you do a smut with Lucifer. He's become my new obsession.

⛧Idle Time is the Devil's Play⛧ By Sydd Satyrn

⛧Pairing: - Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

⛧Warnings: Shameless smut, fingering, swearing, fluff

⛧Words: 2.5k

⛧Notes: This was actually rather fun to write, thank you for the request! My head canon in this one is that Lucifer wears reading glasses.

The day started out on the wrong foot from the second you woke up. The dishes are piled up, laundry needs to be done, and how is there so much dust in here?! Nifty does her best to keep up but she's only one tiny person. You begin with the dishes, stack and stacks of plates and bowls, cups and flatware cover the counter. You let out a sigh of disappointment. After working for a short while, Angel Dust walks in with a surprised look on his face. “I thought you were dating the King of Hell, why are you wasting your time with chores?” The tall spider asks, holding a stack of dishes from his room. “Angel, I work here. I don't know how many times I have to tell you…” You reply with an eye roll. “Yeah, yeah, Charlie’s dreams, blah, blah, motherly nonsense. I’m just sayin’ you could totally slack off and get away with it.” He says, placing more dishes on the counter. You give him a side eye, and Angel laughs. “Chill out toots, I’m just playin’.” He says and heads back to his room. He’s right, you could slack off if you wanted to, but you felt the need to try for Charlie. You and Lucifer have been dating for a little over 6 months and within that time you’ve become rather fond of his sweet daughter and her dreams to rehabilitate sinners. So you took on a role at the hotel and did what you could to help make it possible. You wanted to impress Lucifer's daughter, maybe one day she might even see you as family, if you’re lucky. You finally finish the dishes and take a step back and admire your handiwork. A clean sink, and counters, all the dirty dishes are now washed, dried and put away. It took a good chunk of the morning but it was worth it. The kitchen looks spotless and you decide to move onto the next chore. You tidied a few empty rooms and then delivered clean towels to each room with an occupant. You’re already running out of energy and it's only noon. “You look like you could use some coffee.” Husk says from behind the bar while wiping down the countertops. “You read my mind, Husker.” You say and take a seat at the bar. He pours you a cup of black coffee and sets it in front of you. “Thank you, you have no idea how much I need this.” “Don’t mention it” He says and returns to his countertops. Husk may seem grumpy all the time but you’ve come to know him as a rather genuine and helpful person.

You drink your coffee slowly and contemplate what you should do next. There are so many chores that need to be done, where should you even start? Nifty should be cleaning the bathrooms or taking out the trash by now. You decide to start dusting next, it shouldn't be too hard.

After dusting the common areas, you begin on the hallways. You start at the top floor and work your way down. You hum quietly to yourself while wiping the window sills. As you turn a corner, you run into Angel Dust, and spill dusting spray all over his jacket. “Shit!” He says while wiping his jacked off with his hand, Angel looks frantic and upset, you’ve never seen him so scared. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?!” You immediately apologize. “Y/N, I can't find Fat Nuggets anywhere! I took my eyes off of him for one second and he disappeared! My poor baby!” Angel says, clearly in a state. He looks like he might even cry. It’s gonna be okay, we just…need to split up! I’ll head downstairs and you stay up here.”You say, trying to remain calm. Angel nods, and you both go your separate ways.

You search all the rooms on the first and second floor, the lobby, the bar, and even the basement. There is no sign of the little pig. You were sure you would find him rooting around somewhere in the kitchen but still, no Fat Nuggets. You notice the back door is slightly ajar, you definitely didn’t use that door when you were down here earlier. You open it, expecting to have solved the mystery, but still nothing. You lean against the wall and let out a defeated sigh. “Dammit, Fat Nuggets, where are you?” You say out loud. Suddenly there is a rustlin noise inside a tipped over trash can. You lift the lid and inside is a very happy looking little pig. You scoop him up and give him a big hug, he must have gottens stuck out there looking for a snack. As you carry Fat Nuggets upstairs you hear a shriek of joy coming from Angel Dust. “My baby!” He cries as you hand him over. “Don't you ever leave my side again!” He says, baby talking to the little pig while giving him a snuggle. “I owe you one, Y/N.” Angel says with a smile. “Dont worry about it, I’m just happy we found the little guy.” You gently boop the little pig’s nose. —------------ As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of pink and orange across the sky, a sense of tranquility settled over the hotel. The warm glow of the fading sunlight painted the walls in soft, golden hues made the place feel somewhat serene. Finding Fat Nuggets took up the rest of your afternoon and you were feeling unusually exhausted.

You head down to the lobby and see Nifty cleaning up the last of the dusting you did earlier.

She greets you as usual. “Good Evening, Miss Y/N! How was your day?” She pauses her cleaning and stares up at you with her single cyclops eye. “I am so worn out, Nifty. How are you?” You return, smiling down at her tiny figure.

“I’m okay. There aren't as many bugs in the hotel to squish anymore so I’m getting pretty bored.” You smile at her, Not entirely sure how to respond to that statement. She always says the wildest stuff, but you’re used to it. Alastor says she's always been pretty quirky. “You should go spend time with your boyfriend.” Nifty teases,”I’ll deal with the rest of the chores.” “Thank you, I could really use a break. Today was a mess.” You say with a sigh of relief. After walking down the long, lavish hallway to Lucifer's room. You open the door slowly, you don't want to wake him if he is asleep. The King is already in bed wearing nothing but a robe and his reading glasses. The lamp next on the bedside table is the only source of light in the room. The blonde haired man is reading a book and glances over at you when he hears you come in. “I was wondering when you’d be here.” He says with a smile on his face. He closes his book and sets it on the nightstand along with his gold rimmed glasses. “Sorry I’m late, I’ve had a really long day.” You admit as you sit on the edge of the bed. “Oh? What did you get up to today?” He asks and crawls toward you. “There was a lot to do around the hotel today, a mountain of dishes and so much cleaning. Like seriously, where does all this dust come from?! Then Angel lost Fat Nuggets and he was outside…” You ramble on and Lucifer listens intently. “Fat Nuggets?” Lucifer chuckles and cocks his head to the side. “His pet pig.” You remind him. “Oh, I see…” Lucifer places his hand on your cheek. His warm touch sends shivers down your spine. He pulls your face closer and kisses your lips gently. Your heart flutters and you kiss him back, blushing slightly.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now.” Lucifer laughs, knowing exactly what he's doing to you. “Sounds like you need some time off. I notice you do a lot around here, you shouldn’t wear yourself out like that.” “I just want to show Charlie that I support her dream and believe in her.” Your words make Lucifer’s heart swell, the fact that you are trying so hard to impress his daughter is quite possibly the cutest thing he’s ever seen. He smiles at you, his expression full of love and admiration. You return his smile, your face bright red. He pulls you in for a tight hug, burying his face into your hair. “You’re doing just fine, my love. You can let up a little.” He whispers in your ear, “You should let me take care of you for a couple days.” Lucifer's voice is sticky sweet, you can see why Eve was so easily swayed. You melt into his arms and he kisses the top of your head. “I know exactly what you need…” Lucifer days, his voice laced with a mischievous tone. “Do you…?” You ask and giggle at his bold statement. He reluctantly lets go of you and takes off to the bathroom connected to his room. You can hear him turn on the faucet to fill up the tub. Lucifer walks out of the bathroom a few minutes later, he grabs your hand and pulls you close, his eyes half lidded. He kisses your cheek and wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Come with me, my dear.” He leads you to the bathroom, the tub is filled about half way with warm water. The room is filling with steam and the lights are low, a few candles are lit. The ambiance is warm and charming just like he is. Your eyes widen and you feel Lucifer hands tug at your clothes, silently telling you to take them off. Your face feels hot as you start to remove your clothing, piece by piece. You leave them in a pile on the floor, trying your best to keep your composure. “I have to admit I wasn’t expecting this…” You say, Lucifer smirks, pleased with himself and your reactions. He removes his robe, revealing his perfect body. He steps into the tub and turns to you.

"Well, are you coming or not?" He teases, you take his hand and slowly get in the tub with him. He sits behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you just a bit closer. Together, you both leaned back against the edge of the tub, letting the warmth of the water soothe your weary muscles. The stress of the day melted away, you could feel your muscles relax, you lean the back of your head on his shoulder, breathing him in.

"See? Isn't this much better?" Lucifer purrs in your ear.

You nod and let your eyes close. You can feel him kiss your temple and you can't help but smile. “I definitely needed this…”You murmured, Lucifer's hands begin to roam your body, his hands trace down your arms.

"You have the most beautiful skin...I can't help but touch it." He whispers and kisses your neck, you sigh softly. "And you always smell like vanilla, I adore that..."

“You flatter me, Lucifer.” You reply. He kisses the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. His hands begin to massage your shoulders, "Are you cold?" He asks, noticing the goosebumps forming on your skin. With gentle hands, his fingertips traced delicate patterns along the contours of your skin. In the hushed ambiance, time seemed to slow, as if caught in the embrace of the moment. “No, I’m fine.” You assure him.” You’re just really good with your hands.” “Is that so?” Lucifer says with a playful tone. He can barely contain himself, the way your body responds to his touch is fascinating to him. Lucifer's hands travel lower down your torso and gently cup your breasts. You hum softly and push your body closer to his.

"My, you're a needy one tonight, aren't you?" He chuckles and runs his thumbs over your nipples. "I think I know exactly how to help you." His hands travel lower and lower until they reach your core. Your breath hitches and your face turns a bright shade of red and Lucifer notices. "Is that okay, my love?" He asks, making sure he's not overstepping his bounds.

"Y-yes, it's more than okay.”

Lucifer's fingers explore your folds, teasing and prodding. His movements are slow and deliberate, as if he's trying to memorize every inch of your body. You gasp as he enters a finger into you. You moan softly and your back slightly arches. "That's it, my love, just let go, let me take care of you." The King’s tone is lustful and alluring. Lucifer adds a second finger and starts thrusting in and out, his thumb rubs your clit. He moves his fingers faster and harder. “Luci…fuck…” You swear followed by another moan, the pleasure is overwhelming. You can feel him smile against your skin, his hand working wonders between your thighs. You bite your lip and whimper, gripping the edge of the tub. Lucifer bites the tip of your ear and quickens his pace. “That’s it my dear, are you gonna cum for me?” Lucifer groans and pushes his fingers deeper inside you. You let out a whimper, a feeling of warmth growing deep within your core. Between the steam from the bathtub and all the stimulation you start to feel a little dizzy. Lucifer groans and buries his face into the crook of your neck. He focuses back on your clit, his middle finger massaging little circles, picking up speed with each second that passes. You can't stop the moans from escaping your mouth, the pleasure is too much. You can't hold back any longer and your body is rocked with wave after wave of pleasure. Lucifer's fingers move slower, helping you ride out the waves of your orgasm. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your face is bright red. Lucifer pulls his fingers out and wraps his arms around you, hugging you tight.

"Are you alright?" He asks, kissing your neck. You nod and completely relax into Lucifer's body. You lay in the bathtub together, his fingers caress your arm, he presses another kiss to your temple.

"I think it's time you got some rest." He says, barely above a whisper. You both get out of the tub and Lucifer wraps a towel around you.

"You're absolutely perfect." He says with a grin and kisses your nose. You smile at him, continue to dry off and wrap your hair in a towel. Lucifer loans you a pair of his silk pajamas, they are just slightly too big for you. But all that does is add to how comfortable they are. You lay in bed next to him, the covers pulled over your shoulders. He pulls you close and runs his fingers through your hair.

"So, tomorrow you will do no chores, no errands, just relax and take it easy.” He says, with a slightly demanding tone. You lay your head down on his bare chest and he picks up his book. “Yes sir…no chores…” You murmured against his skin. “He chuckles, "Good girl. That's what I like to hear.” He praises while putting his glasses back on. You're exhausted from the day and can barely keep your eyes open. Before long, you fall asleep in the arms of your love, ready for a trouble free day tomorrow.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer x y/n #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer smut #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #syddanswersasks

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toorurs · 2 months

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WHAT IT MEANS TO LOVE YOU - AVENTURINE

synopsis: sometimes aventurine feels undeserving of the love you provide him and tries to show his love for you in various ways.

pairing: aventurine x reader | wordcount: 1.1k | content & warnings: written before aventurines release so probably ooc!aventurine, mention of aventurines backstory and his tattoo, mention of one of his leaked lines, fluff, light angst(if you squint??), reader reassures him, reader uses lip products like lipsticks and lip tints, kind of insecure!aventurine, big ass speech that kind of repeats in the end, (kissing lol??), word vomit

a/n: hihi!! sorry that i havent posted in a while but i decided to post this little fic in honour of the new aventurine leaks!!! LIKE HAVE U SEEN THAT FOLLOW UP ATTACK IM SCREAMINGNGNGJ. also this is not proof read like maybe half assed proof read, i finished this at 2 ammmm

"you know, when i told you that i needed a new lipstick i didn't mean an entire collection"! your eyes flicker from his - down to the surface of your vanity as you can see the pink and red lip products that are splayed across the desk before your eyes dart over to back to his figure that's currently leaning against the door frame, to stare at him in disbelief.

you're discombobulated, dumbfounded, befuddled - because who in their right mind just buys a ton of lipsticks and lip tints that's probably worth someone's yearly salary! (someone being you)

windows are eyes to the soul they say. because it seems like he's able to read and understand what you're trying to say without you even having to utter a word.

the blond moves from his previous spot over to you and plops himself down on the stool which is located in front of your desk before giving you playful smile

he sighs and shrugs in simplicity before speaking up "well, you know, i wasn't sure which one you liked the most and those sales assistants weren't of big help either, so I just bought every colour that they had in store".

he softly takes your hand in his and intertwines them as he starts to rub circles along the back of your hand. "and it doesn't matter which colour you're gonna use, it'll look good on you either way" he stops caressing your hand for a moment to give you a tender kiss on the back of your hand.

"aventurine"! you exclaim. "i appreciate each of your gifts a lot, i really do and i adore and appreciate you for your generosity. but don't you think that purchasing an entire lip product collection that will expire sooner or later because I haven't been able to try them all out is a bit selfless"?

the man simply shakes his head before he proceeds to disagree. "no"? he says in a nonchalant manner. "after all", he pauses for a moment. "if you'd told me to spend less time at the IPC and get home earlier or to cancel my trips to other planets because you've missed me", he takes off his glasses and lets out a quiet breathy laugh. "i'd do it in a heartbeat, without having to think twice".

"you know that i'd devote all my love, time and dedication to you. that i'd cross every universe, every ocean and defeat every foe that stands in my way just to see you and have you in my arms". you take notice of his hand that is still intertwined with yours, is slightly trembling. he shakes his head and fiddles with your fingers a bit.

his usual composure and cockiness is long gone. "no - i'd cross every universe, every ocean and defeat every foe that stands in my way just to see and so that you can have me in your arms and lovingly embrace me. i would not only dedicate my love, time and devotion to you but me, my whole self. after all, you're the dawn that i've thought i'd never have the chance to see. the dawn that shone upon me on my darkest days. so treat me how you want, drag me through the mud and use me as you wish, as long as i get to see you".

"there's nothing that i deem as selfless as long as it's for you."

his hand wasn't the only hand which was trembling now. "aventurine, please don't say that. you try to reassure him but your voice fails you as it quivers.

"to me you're much more than a puppet which I can benefit from, you're my lover, aventurine." you say in a stern but sincere tone. you turn to the lip products which are still displayed on your desk and apply a bright pink colour on your lips. (admittedly you were never fond of flashy and gaudy colours when it came to lip sticks but the pink colour matches aventurines eyes which makes you think that they might not be that bad)

"but-", he tries to speak up and continue his sentence, but you don't let him. "no buts", you put your hands on his cheeks and give him a sweet peck on his pouted lips. "ah sorry" you say sheepishly, "i didn't mean to interrupt you, but aventurine you're much more to me than you probably think you are".

you brush one of his golden hair strands behind his ear before speaking up again. "you're smart and witty. when a complicated situation occurs you always defend me and start a commotion which wouldn't stop anytime soon until the people who were being rude to me would pay and apologize to me".

you let out a profound laugh as you think back of the times that this has already happened. "i adore that mouth of yours, it never fails to neither surprise nor amaze me and '', you kiss him on the lips for a second time, though this time the peck lasts for a bit longer. "and, it's really good at kissing too" you let out another heartfelt laugh that sounds like music to aventurines ears.

he can't stop the smile that forms upon hearing your words and laugh, he wonders how he was so lucky to be the one to steal your heart.

"and not to forget", your eyes wander to his beautiful pink hues. "you're observant, very - if I might say so." this time you kiss his eyelids and they flutter upon the sensation of your mouth coming in contact with the layer of skin that separates your lips and his eyes.

"you always notice when i'm feeling down and try to cheer me up in various ways. and not to mention, nothing ever gets past your eyes! it's like they're always on me" you tease him, but you're able to confirm your statement as you see the tips of his ears reddening.

"but most importantly", your hands wander down to his shoulders. "if i'm having a bad day you always let me hug you and i get to bury my face into the crook of your neck. you never question what or why i'm doing it and let me stay in this position until i start speaking up first".

"you're always patient with me and that is the trait that i love about you the most. so patient, that i sometimes feel undeserving of your love" you start peppering tender kisses from his jawline down to his neck and kiss the spot that is covered by the tattoo.

"so aventurine, please don't say that. please don't talk like someone forbade you to love me, like someone shackled and bound you to me because you don't need permission to love me. you're a free person who is allowed to love anyone - including me”.

e/n: reblogs are greatly appreciated! + divder by @/cafekitsune

#toorurs #aventurine #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine angst #honkai star rail fluff #hsr fluff #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #aventurine x reader #aventurine fluff #aventurine x you #aventurine hsr #this man i LOVE him #cant wait for 2.1 #hsr angst #honkai star rail angst

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rafesfavgirl · 12 days

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gurl i neeed a part 2 of stop asking me to stay, that broke me😭😭😭

you ask, i deliver :) hope you like it!!

i don't regret a thing — r. cameron

part 1.

❝ we're not the only ones, i don't regret a thing every word i've said, you know i'll always mean ❞

pairing: ex-bf!rafe x fem!reader

context: you and rafe have been dating for seven months, and while the relationship started it out well, as soon as the honeymoon phase ended (about 3 months in), everything went to shit. you've been trying to put up with it, knowing the situation with ward, but tonight, you realize you've had enough.

words: 2.4k+

warnings: swearing, toxic relationship, mentions of drug use, mainly fluff, a little angst, might still make you cry. rafe being an absolute simp for you, basically.

rafe wakes up the next morning, faced-down on topper's living room couch with almost no recollection of what happened the night before. except one thing—you'd finally walked away from him.

"not enough to choose me. you give in every time." your words echo in his head, as he opens his eyes.

fuck. what did he do?

"good morning sunshine," kelce comes down the stairs and greets rafe, who looked as if he couldn't move from the couch. "you sleep well?"

"i slept like shit," rafe groans, finally sitting himself up. "what the hell happened last night?"

"you mean other than you getting coked out and royally screwing things over with y/n?" kelce sasses him. "not much bro."

rafe shoots him a glare. "i did not royally screw things over with y/n."

"are you sure about that?" kelce raises a brow at him. "cause i had to drive her home last night crying, bro."

rafe's ear perk up at kelce's confession of you crying over him. you wouldn't have. you were the one who broke up with him.

"she was crying?" rafe asks.

"do you seriously even have to ask?" kelce replies. "i can't even count on two hands how many times you've made her cry the last few months."

no, that couldn't be true. surely he hadn't made you cry that often.

"shut the fuck up kelce," rafe gets up from the couch in complete denial of how shitty he's treated you the last few months and makes his way over to the kitchen.

rafe opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of water, while kelce joins him in the kitchen.

"you know it's true," kelce says, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. "you just never see it, because she won't let you."

was he right?

"you know how y/n is, bro," kelce adds, as i take a sip of water. "she'll never let you know you're hurting her, because you fear nothing more than being the cause of her pain and losing her. but she's also not going to beg and cry for you to stay and fight for her."

i did know that. that's what i loved about her. she didn't necessarily play hard to get when i tried asking her out on a date after months of texting, but she didn't give in too easily either. she wanted me to prove i was serious about her before giving me a real chance. she knew her worth.

i recap the bottle i'm drinking from and set it down on the counter beside me, my eyes focused on kelce. "so what should i do?"

kelce holds his hands up. "if you don't know by now, i can't help you."

—

rafe wasn't an idiot. he knew what he had to do.

so, after going home and taking a shower to freshen up and get a change of clothes, he drove to the flower shop in town to get you a bouquet of lavender and baby's breath, then nothing bundt cakes to get your favorite treat—a white chocolate raspberry bundt cake—and finally, your house.

once he parked his truck in front of your house and got out, he went through his usual routine of rounding around to your backyard, where he moved the ladder the gardeners used towards your bedroom window.

he climbed up and knocked, balancing the flowers and bundt cake in one hand.

you were sitting in bed watching after we fell on your laptop with a box of tissues beside you and puffy, red eyes when you hear the knock on your window.

without even thinking about it, you already knew who it was. this was just what he did. and against your better judgment, you got up from your bed, and walked over to pull the curtains open and find rafe outside with a regretful look on his face, a bouquet of flowers and a small box of your favorite treat.

slowly, but surely, you unlock the window and pull it up.

"i'm sorry," he speaks before you can, and you scoff.

"you know, i'm getting real sick of hearing you say that," you reply, turning around to walk away and reposition yourself back on your bed, while he slips in through your window.

"i got you flowers," he offers you a small smile and holds both items out to you. "and your favorite bundt cake. white chocolate raspberry."

your eyes shift from the gifts in his hand to his piercing blue eyes. they were no longer dark like they were last night, but there was a sense of uncertainty in them. like he wasn't sure he could win you back.

"so what? am i suppose to just forgive you? just like that?" you retort.

he lets out a sigh, and takes a seat at the edge of your bed, placing both items down on your bed next to your box of tissues. he finally gets a good look at you—from the messy bun on your head, to the bags under your eyes from barely getting any sleep last night, to your red, puffy eyes—and realizes just how badly he's messed up this time.

"i should've just fucked all those other girls. at least they know how to have fun." he still couldn't believe he said those words to you last night.

"i don't deserve your forgiveness," he admits. "i know that. but i want it, y/n. and i'm willing to work for it."

while those words were music to your ears, you were apprehensive. he apologizes every time. and while things do change for a while, they're never permanent. and a week or two from now, you'd be back in this same situation again. was that really worth it?

"i know i don't deserve any more chances," he continues, his eyes only focused on yours. "but i promise… i promise just give me one more and you won't regret it."

your eyes shift between his. he looked a little… scared? was he really that afraid to lose you?

"i don't know, rafe," you say honestly, shifting a little. "you've hurt me so bad… i don't know if i can take you doing it one more time."

"i'm not going to," he immediately shakes his head and reaches out to take your hands in his, fiddling with your fingers and glancing down at them. "please, baby, please. just let me show you i'm the guy for you. that i can be the guy you need and want me to be."

"how?"

"you'll give me a chance?" he asks, his eyes lighting up at the idea of being given another chance to win you back.

despite your brain screaming at you not to, your heart wins over and you nod. you couldn't help it. every part of you yearned for him. and if he was willing to show you that he really could be the guy you knew he was—the guy you fell in love with—then maybe it would be worth it.

"wear something nice," he says. "i'll come back to pick you up at seven."

—

at exactly seven on the dot, you hear rafe park his car in front of your house, and look out your bedroom window to see him dressed in skinny black slacks and a long sleeve, white button down carrying a bouquet of red roses as he walked towards your driveway and front door.

you can't help the small smile that forms on your face as you hurry to strap your heels on and look at yourself in the mirror one more time, before grabbing your purse off your vanity and heading down the stairs.

"where are you heading off to?" your mom asks when you pass by the living room, all dressed up.

"date with rafe," you reply, walking towards the front door.

your parents had never been rafe's biggest fan—they weren't exactly unaware of how often he's made you cry the last couple of months—but they also knew they couldn't stop you from dating whoever you wanted, so they never fought you on it, and you were grateful for that. it was comforting to know they'd support you no matter what happened.

taking a deep breath, you place your hand on the doorknob, and finally open the door when the bell rings.

rafe's eyes instantly widen at the sight of you, his eyes trailing down your body wrapped in a tight, short, satin red dress. "wow," he gasps. "you- you look…"

your cheeks redden at his loss of words. "you don't clean up too bad yourself, cameron."

he smiles at your use of his last name as a nickname, and holds the red roses in his hand out to you. "these are for you."

"you already got me flowers this morning, you know," you joke, taking the bouquet from him. your mom was gonna be pleased to know rafe was back to filling up all her flower vases.

"i know, but…" he trails off. "you deserve the best."

the blush on your cheeks deepen at his words. "give me a second," you turn to walk back towards the living room, and set the bouquet down on the coffee table in front of your parents. "don't wait up."

they don't even get a word in before you're walking away again to join rafe outside.

"shall we?" you ask, looking up at him through your lashes, as you closed the door behind you.

"just… one more thing," a sly smile comes across his lips, as he reaches into his back pocket to pull out a black blindfold.

you stare at it, your mouth agape. "you're kidding, right?"

he shrugs, "i want it to be a surprise."

you groan, but give in anyway. "fine. but if i trip in these heels because i can't see where i'm going, consider us broken up for good."

he laughs at the threat, even though a part of him was afraid you still wouldn't forgive him after tonight. "you know i won't let that happen. turn around."

you do as he says, and he ties the blindfold around your eyes, before taking your hand in his and leading you down the driveway towards his car parked up on the curb. he opens the door for you, and carefully helps you into the passenger seat, before closing the door and rounding the car to get in the driver's seat.

the second the engine comes on, your romantic taylor swift playlist plays through the car's speakers.

"you didn't," you say. he would always complain when you had aux because she was all you'd ever play.

"i guess she's not too bad," rafe shrugs, chuckling as you began singing along to the lyrics of wildest dreams.

rafe continued driving through the island for another ten or fifteen minutes, before he finally pulled the car to a stop in front of his family's beach house on the edge of figure eight, completely secluded from everything else.

he gets out of the car first, and helps you out, taking your hand in his to lead you through the house and out to the back porch.

"are you ready?" he leans in towards your ear, and goosebumps rise along your skin at his proximity.

you nod, and he reaches his hands up to the back of your head to untie the blindfold.

it takes a little while for your eyes to adjust, but once they do, a feeling of warmness fills your heart at the sight in front of you.

red rose petals were scattered in the sand of the private beach, along with fairy lights, a candlelit table for two set up in the center of it all, as acoustic instrumentals of taylor's best love songs played through the speaker situated on the porch.

"you like it?" he asked.

you turn your head to look at him. "rafe, i… it's perfect."

"that's what i was going for," he shrugs smugly, and nods his head towards the set up. "come on."

you both remove your shoes, before he takes your hand in his again and leads you down the back porch to the table in the middle of the beach.

"i can't believe you did this for me," you say, as he pulls a chair out for you to sit in.

"i'd do anything for you," he smiles, taking the seat across from you once you're seated.

—

after a three course dinner and a bottle of wine, which was all served to the both of you by a waiter that rafe hired from the country club, the night slowly came to an end, an endless amount of stars filling the night sky above you.

but while you were focused on the stars, rafe was focused on you.

"god, you're beautiful," he says, causing you to look at him now.

you chuckle, "shut up."

"no, i'm fucking serious," he replied, standing up from his seat.

you watched him carefully as he walked over to you, and held a hand out.

you glance at his hand and tilt your head up at him, "what are you doing?"

"dance with me," he says.

"you're asking me to dance?" you raise a brow at him.

"mhm," he nods. "you gonna say yes?"

"well how can i say no?" you reply, a small smile forming on your lips as you put your hand in his.

he leads you a few feet away from the table, and rests a firm hand on your waist, as you trail a hand up to his shoulder.

he locks his eyes with yours as you both begin swaying to taylor's timeless, and scans your face.

"what?"

he shakes his head, "i don't deserve you..."

"rafe…"

"but i'm gonna do everything i can to make sure i become the kind of guy who does," he cuts me off. "i want to be better, y/n. not only for you, but for myself too."

you smile, and pull him closer, your hand snaking to the back of his head.

"i'm sorry for being such an ass the last few months," he says, and you close my eyes, taking the moment in as he continues. "i know i haven't deserved all the chances you've given me, but i'm not gonna disappoint you again. i want to be the guy you think i am."

you pull away, just enough to have your eyes lock with his.

"you are that guy, rafe," you tell him, and you mean it. "you just need to let him show more."

he smiles, "you're pretty damn amazing, you know that?"

"so i've been told," you shrug jokingly.

he chuckles. "i love you, y/n."

"i love you too."

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

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deer-knight · 4 months

Text

it's 2024 you know what that means: time to stop shaving massive swaths of your body! listen. cmere. listen to me. if you're someone who regularly shaves your legs/armpits/arms/groin/etc. this is it. this is your sign.

now listen. i know. it feels so nice and smooth! you rub your legs together like cricket! swish swish! listen to me - have you ever fully let yourself have body hair? i mean it. fully let your hair grow until it doesnt grow any longer?

let me tell you something - i am a texture-sensitive being. truly. i was also someone who had to shave my legs daily if i wanted to give the illusion of a creature that doesn't have leg hair. and the fresh shave smoothness was nice! and the scratchy nonsense that started poking through at the end of the day was terrible! it also sucked to torture my skin this way all the time. i have thick, dark hair. and everyone would be on my case about it - my mother, sister, grandmother, kids at school or summer camp. "you missed a spot!" i banish you to the shadow realm.

beyond just knowing that the beauty standards of the world we live in are fucked, consider this an opportunity to just be curious about your body. it's 2024! gender is dead! humans often are covered in hair! its normal! people might give you a hard time about it. the best we can do is ignore them, if they are not the sort to see it as an opportunity to learn.

when i started wearing my unshaved legs bare i was so nervous. and after i made it clear to the people who would have bothered me about it that i wasn't going to bend to their expectations, nobody has really mentioned it. i've had kids ask why i have hair in my armpits or on my legs, because they don't have filters and are curious about their world, and i just say that its normal to have hair or to not have hair, for all people of all genders.

it takes a little bit of time to adjust to the feeling and texture. this much is true. but oh my gosh, i beg of you to try. even if you think you wont get over the sensory nightmare of the initial scratchiness. i haven't shaved in 7, 8 years now, and my hair is still thick and dark but the texture has softened so much, and i love the swish of hair on my legs, in my armpits, all over. i'm not on testosterone or anything, i'm just a hairy creature. y'all, it's so beautiful. it keeps me warm! it's soft in a different way - i can even condition it if i want extra softness! its an incredible texture, and i'm so grateful i let my body be the way it's always wanted to be.

it's 2024. you don't have to shave anymore. if you've been thinking about it, now's the time. free yourself. doesn't matter your gender or sexuality or anything. it doesn't make you less feminine, it doesn't make you less refined, it doesn't make you less sexy or less lovable or anything like that. anyone who says different isn't worth your time.

been wanting to make this post for a while now. your body is yours, and you can let it be as hairy as you like <3

#brought to you by a hairy creature #free your fuzz

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passionpeachy · 1 month

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Sorry if this is weird but I wanted to say it's so comforting to know that there are other lesbians in their mid-to-late 20s who haven't had their first kiss or anything. I know gay people in general tend to reach those milestones later than cishet people but I've always felt like I was way behind even my gay peers, and it has really put a dent in my sense of self-worth. So, you mentioning that you've never kissed anyone made me feel a little less alone. :) Love your art and hope you are doing well.

You should look at the concept of "your first kiss" less as a milestone you have to achieve at a certain age and more of an intimate thing that happens when YOU want to do it, if you even want to do it at all.

I have no idea what your situation is like, but personally I literally just haven't felt a super strong urge to kiss anyone near me here in this very South Texan city. People aren’t really “visibly” queer here with pride flags and stuff, including me. We’ve only had 2 small Pride parades before and that’s it. I'm sure this would eventually change if I lived somewhere more queer-friendly with more sapphics who were my specific type (butch and nonbinary lesbians are pretty much nonexistent here. I once got embarrassingly excited when I saw one(1) online who lived here. It’s like all the real attraction I’ve been deprived of all my life hit me like a truck. No, I’ve never talked to them lol)

......but I'm not saying the girls here aren't ever cute or anything. They’re beautiful actually. Mostly bisexual latinas. I've definitely had some gay moments here and there. It just wasn't enough to spiral into more than light flirting and a cheek kiss, I guess. There’s also the severity of insecurity and mental illness that makes one a homebody, but I don’t want to get into that right now.

So while I want it, I love the idea of it, I'm not really that ashamed about being inexperienced this late in life. Seems more common than people are willing to admit tbh. ANYWAY, I rambled too much. My point is you shouldn't tie this to your self-worth and don't let anyone, even other queer people, make you feel bad about it

#asks #and sorry I replied to this so late. was trying to find words to say….#and I’m glad you like my art and I could help you feel less alone

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sickuma · 10 months

Text

SILLAGE — a Simon Riley fic. 2/2

❱ again this was an au first written on tiktok! this will be the last part of it, please keep in mind that it is all fiction and that if you're going through the same thing and are having the same thoughts, please seek someone you trust. Please fight for yourselves, you're worth it ꜝ？ Warning. . this is a heavy angst fic, mentions of suicide and acts of committing, if that is something that triggers bad emotions, please exit the fic.

paring is Ghost x Reader this is unedited! mistakes such as spelling and grammatical errors are to be expected !

Part 1 (^_^;)

SILLAGE — (n.) The scent that lingers in air, the trail left in water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone; the trace of someone's perfume.

—hey [name]? I know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now, but I just really—

There was a short pause, as the voicemail erupts a slight static sound.

—I love you. That should have been enough reason. No, you were enough. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I was cowardly, I figured that you'll be happier and safer, being with someone who isn't me. Someone who isn't a soldier.

It was the same night he left your apartment. He swore to himself he would not come crawling back. To protect both of you, at the time, it had been the best solution for him. Until the midnight strikes, he remembered just how serious you looked, just how accepting you looked.

Too accepting.

—because who knows when one of these missions would finally take me out. I can't let you suffer through that, I can't be the one to give you that kind of grief. So I thought leaving you was the best option.

There was a dire pause as he thought of the best words possible to express himself. He’s never been one to do such, but for you, he’s willing to be better.

—it wasn't.

He spoke desperately, almost shaking from just how much adrenaline rushed through him. He had just argued with the team, and after a long hour of explaining to them what he needed to do, he was finally permitted to bail out on this mission, it’s not like he wouldn't leave without permission, that's how urgent this is for him, he needed to get to you as soon as possible,

Even he doesn't know why he’s in a rush,

Maybe it's because of your silence, the unanswered calls, and unread messages that brought him on edge.

—I love you, far too much, my love, to even think straight without you. I love you so much it's hard to breathe. I so desperately love you to the point it hurts.

The desperation and sincerity. It was all there. He knew if he couldn't let it out now, he won't let it out ever. This was his only chance of being happy.

You were his only chance for happiness. He almost couldn't believe he thought letting you go because of his fear was the best decision.

He stupidly let you go, succumbing to the fear of dying while you wait for him. He knows better, he will do better,

For you. Because you're worth changing for, you're worth the risk.

—please don't hate me. I know I was an ass for leaving in the first place, baby, I am sorry. You loved me so much that it felt so good, I didn't know I'm capable of feeling that way, so I was scared that worse would come after. I'm not scared anymore. You looked at me like there's something in me worth looking at,

He felt like he was saying so much yet so little at the same time,

He had so much to tell you but very few words to express it. He needs to be with you. He needs to see you and physically explain to you just how much you mean to him.

—I won't waste it, love, not again. Please open the door for me when I get back.

He frowned, realizing once again just how idiotic he was. He knew he should not have done what he did, but it was over with. The only thing left to do is to make things right somehow.

—I've never been taught how to love, I have.. I don't— I'm not the best at it. I'm sorry baby, if I'm not loving you the right way, and for leaving just like that, but I promise I'll be better. you're worth the better of me, you're worth learning love for.

He needed you, and you needed him. That should have been enough reason to risk it.

—when I come back, please let me hold you. Please forgive me for making you feel like an option between my job. It's you. It's always been you. I love you, baby, wait for me. I'll make this right.

As the line cuts, the static sound fills the eerie room of yours. The very same room he had walked out from, the same room where you sat breathing hours ago. There were no other living sounds except for the occasional ticking of the clock.

There were no signs nor sounds of life perceived in the room. The silence was thick. With your lifeless body beside the bed in a fetal position, a bottle of used pills tightly wrapped around your hands. It was light, about three to four pills left inside a newly bought bottle.

It was dead silent as if the universe sympathized with you.

Allowing silence in regards to respect for what has passed, for what has ended.

﹑

“My family’s never been the typical joyous family, I guess that affected me, as a person in general.”

You explain, running your hand through his hair while his head laid on your lap. It’s one of those days where he’d be much affectionate compared to the majority of the time. He requested to hear about your childhood while he rests on you,

For a moment you felt your heart and breath hitch.

“I guess growing up in that kind of household really—really influenced my well-being. It's given me problems and worries I shouldn't have.” You were hesitant to continue, “Fear, I started having fears for a lot of things.”It's as if you caught a glimpse of his mind, taking in the details you've just given him.“Fears like?”

The moment the question reached your ears, he could see your body tense. He understood, and he doesn't plan on pushing it.“You don't have to answer that, my love.” he smiles, “No matter what it is you're scared of, let’s face it together, yeah? You have me. That's enough, I hope.”

Little did he know that fear was yet to come. The fear of leaving soon, the fear of being unable to keep going. How could you ever explain to him that you don't plan to stay long?

﹑

With a ragged breath from exhaustion, he dropped his things once again, the same way he did before he left. Facing your door yet again, panting as a feeling of discomfort plagued him, why exactly? He’s finally here. Why is he so distraught, he wondered.

“[name]?” he knocks,

Swallowing the lump in his throat, his voice strained, and his state dishevelled. “[name] please—it’s me, please answer.”

The lack of response made him think about just how angry he made you,

“I'm sorry,” he whispers,

“I know I was stupid and irrational. I won't do it again, petal, please open the door.”

To say he’s nervous would be an understatement. What would he do if you never find it in you to let him back into the comfort of your arms? Will he return to the familiar cold he had forgotten when he met you?

“[name] I love you.”

He desperately spoke, yearning for an answer; the smallest sign of acceptance.

It was odd. How quiet it was. Are you that mad? He wonders, but then again, he knew you’re not one to ignore, not even when you’re the angriest you've been. You would never shut him out, not ever. “[name], please, answer, or I'll have to go inside.”

“Baby are you okay?” no response.

Each passing second was like a countdown. He was uneasy and distraught. Afraid even.

The silence felt deafening. He was afraid of what? He had no clue what he was so afraid of, surely you're okay...

Right?

“[name], I'm coming in,” he says sternly, fishing the spare key he oh so gratefully forgot to give back. His heart thumps louder with each action.

The moment he entered, the creak of the door interrupted the silence. He felt like he was intruding on an abandoned space. It felt wrong. He knew something was wrong.

“[name]? I'm back, like—like I always am.” his voice broke, stepping inside, head looking around, hoping to find you and engulf you in his longing arms. “As I told you, I’ll always find my way back… right?”

He kept speaking while he walked, checking and opening every door. Starting from the small kitchen to the bathroom, checking everywhere until there was one room left. He dreaded it, for no reason he was scared and yet he rushed,

He spoke, no—he goes on a tangent,

“I'll take the month off. We’ll do anything you want, anything to make up for this. I promise we can even get a pet, I always say no, right? This time, I'll agree, anything for you, my love just—”

The silence rung,

Apart from the sound of the door opening by his force, there were no sounds made, not from him, not from anything. He simply stood, dumbfounded at what the room unveiled; at that moment, nothing mattered, not even the breath he had held unknowingly.

A ragged chuckle escaped his lips, though it was hollow. As if he was desperate to know that maybe this is all some sick prank. Maybe this was one of your silly games he always put up with, “Baby? What’s this? Why are you on the floor?”

“Jokes over [name] get up—”

When it all came to view, he was silenced. The second he stepped closer, he saw how your body lay lifeless, how you held that bottle, and how his eyes drifted onto the lone tear, which evidently dried along the hours.

How long have you been here?

In this state? How long has it been since you left him?

He couldn't feel. He couldn't grasp his head around the sight before him. He’s well familiar with death. He’s seen it before, and he’s lost comrades before, but nothing comes close to what lay in front of him.

How does one react when their lifeline lies lifeless before their very eyes?

He couldn't approach nor speak. He simply stood with weak knees, tempting to give out. It didn't take him long to crouch, eyes wide open with lips parted slightly. There were no tears, no emotions, the moment numbed him. It didn't feel like reality,

There he crouched, just a few steps away from you. It didn't feel like his heart dropped. It felt almost worse, as if you'd taken it with you. How could this have happened? Did he cause this?

If you had told him a day ago that he would witness the person he loved the most laying on the floor devoid of life, he would have laughed at your face, punching you even. This isn't reality. This isn't a reality he wants to face.

It took every courage in his body to bring himself closer to you, afraid of what more he’d discover. With slow steps, he drew closer, grabbing your hand was the first thing he thought of doing. “Oh god…” his voice broke,

Your body isn't as warm as it used to be,

Not as he remembered. The warmth he loved when he would hold you against him, it’s gone. You're gone.

He had felt countless of stiff lifeless bodies and yet yours hurt the most,

The mere thought of it destroyed him. It hasnt sinked in yet, but he could tell. He could tell his demise is near. The realization will hit him in a short while.

“Baby, im home…” this wasn't him. This was not his voice. Stuttering over the easiest words, strained with pent-up sobs. His chest felt heavy, almost making it difficult to breathe.

Yet with hitched breath, he picked up your limp body and placed you in his arms, crushing your icy body against him. He held you tightly, but his hands cradled your body tenderly. It was as if he’s afraid of hurting you more.

Ghost was forever fearless, always facing whatever challenge was given to him, even his mortal enemy would know that he isnt necessarily the easiest solder to crack, let alone destroy and yet he finds himself sat on the floor holding the lifeless frame of his lover,

Cradling whatever is left of you,

Desperately holding onto what he can possibly hold on to.

The lieutenant everyone looked up on, admired and viewed as an admirable man, sat on the floor with a weighing heart. Holding back the tears that had formed without his knowledge as he held your body,

but right now, he wasn't lieutenant simon ‘ghost’ riley.

At this moment, he was just simon, the simon you loved desperately, the simon who loved you just as insanely.

This person right this moment was your simon,

He wasnt anyone else, he was yours.

As he sat on the hard cold floor, thoughts roaming with his heart screaming, he felt like a mess, but that didn't matter. Words can not describe the regret, remorse, and stupidity he felt,

If i didnt leave,

If i didn't walk out that door,would you still have been alive in my arms?Would i still have to hold you soulless?

He held you closer, bringing you closer to him, as close as possible. He felt nothing but regret, nothing but anger for himself. Why is it that the very grief he tried to protect you from, the same reason he left, the same grief he avoided you to feel, why is it that he’s feeling it now?

His ragged sobs filled the room, and the rest remained still as if everything sympathized for him. As if the world understood the hurt he carried. He sobs, holding onto you as if doing so would bring you back. He knew nothing well, and yet he foolishly cried, hoping you’ll hear him and come back to ease the pain.

Like you always did.

At the corner of his eyes, he saw the letters piled not far from them. Without standing, nor letting go of you, he reached for it. Reading the names addressed on each, until he sees the one for him.

Of all the few letters he saw, his was the only one with tear drops which ruined the ink in front, almost unable to read, he brought it closer, dropping the rest.

Simon,

I felt everything.

Thank you, and im sorry,

I love you :)

Swallowing the impossibly heavy lump on his throat, he opened the carefully folded letter. He was met with even more tear drops. The thought of you crying, alone, while you write him a letter to bid him goodbye, crushed his soul.

He cant imagine a greater pain,

It felt surreal.

How could I..

How could I have lost you this easily.

With his blurry vision, he starts to read—well—attempt to. With every sentence, every punctuation, every meaning of your words, all of it felt like a slap to reality.

How could he have not seen?

How did he not notice? Not paying attention to what you were going through? How could he have been so careless as to leave you all alone.

The very fear you spoke of,

He did just exactly what your family had done.

If anybody could have saved me,

it would have been you.

He read the part over and over again, allowing your words to cut through his heart repeatedly. He left you, and yet, at the end of the day, you still see him as someone—the only one who could save you.

Despite the war inside your mind,

Inside your mind and unwavering emotions, which he hadn't bothered to unveil, he remained the most important person.

May it be in your chaotic mind or the furthest crevices of your heart, he remained on both.

He read it all,

Understanding every single thing you failed to say in person,

Everything you failed to say while you still lived.

It hurts even more. He thought nothing could be more painful when he saw you laying lifeless. But having to read what you wanted to say,

How sorry you were, how thankful you are to him, and how he made you feel.

It was surely another cut to an already existing wound. His mind flashed memories while he went over the tear stained letter you left.

He remembered everything as if they were as fresh as yesterday. When you first smiled at him, when you first held hands, when your lips first touched.

Your words were true. The story of you really is short-lived. But he couldn't help but think about the what If's

If he stayed,

If he hadn't walked out,

If he ignored his fear of abandoning you,

If he hadn't been so stupid and cowardly.

He gave up, and the heavy lump on the throat overcame him, letting the sting linger for as long as eternity. He read the last words on the letter, with a loud sob, with repeated pleads.

Repeatedly apologising, repeatedly begging for you to come back so he could fix things so everything could return to normal,

So you could return.

A childish wish. A high-ranking soldier held the lifeless body of his lover all while he begs for them to come back.

"I'm so sorry." He whispers, voice too broken to speak normally. "I'm sorry for not noticing."

"I'm sorry you had to be alone."

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He repeats over and over again, holding you against him.

At the back of the letter, he could barely see the words written with how blurry the tears clouded his eyes.

Thank you for making me feel.

The words only crushed him even more, sobbing and crying harder to no avail.

"[name]..." He whispers, holding you close. "Did it hurt? I'm sorry, it must have been so hard."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm so sorry for not being here you."

He apologized, wishing he could have been with you. To convince you otherwise, wishing he could have been here to avoid this,

To avoid losing you.

Wishing he could have stayed to keep making you feel.

The thoughts of your words before he left suddenly entered his mind,

"Can I hug you?"

"One last time?"

Now it all makes sense why you looked so serene, why you looked so accepting. Why did you have that small smile on your lips,

You were bidding him goodbye.

That really was the final hug.

The final touch he'd ever get, the final living affection he would get from you.

He holds you now, but it wasn't the same, not even close. Back then, you were smiling and breathing, but now you're no different to an inanimate object. Stiff and cold, this is the person he loved so dearly?

It ached.

And it ached painfully.

The type of ache to never go away, the type of ache he'd keep forever.

The type of ache he'll willingly embrace,

As he held you that night, mourning for what could've been, mourning for someone beyond saving.

This was the ache he'd willingly feel forever,

If it means having you in his mind and heart. He would willingly hurt himself by keeping that ache if it means keeping you in his deceased heart forever.

As the remnant of your memories roamed the room, your presence which now passed, the scent of yours he dearly craved. It left a sillage pain to remember,

You left a sillage worth remembering.

"I'll keep you in my heart,

Even if that damage me,

Even if it kills me.

I'll keep you safe forever."

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theragethatisdesire · 9 months

Text

three's a... - jean kirschstein x afab!reader x eren jaeger - 18+!!!

i feel like i have mentioned the possibility of giving y'all an erejean threesome way too many times to keep holding out on you, so now that i've finally nitpicked this fic to death, here we are!! literally living my dreams vicariously through this fic. i'm still not 100% happy with it, but eren and jean are sexy here and are doing half of the work of making this worth the read for me lolol. it's also written mostly through jean's pov which was interesting to play with.

pairing: eren jaeger x reader x jean kirschstein

wc: 6.5k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, threesome, established relationship (eren's ur perfect bf and u guys can't stop having sex with jean lol), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, vaginal fingering, degradation, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, anal (fingering and fucking), swearing, use of names (slut, brat, pretty girl, good girl, angel), mean dom eren vs soft dom jean, multiple orgasm, dacryphilia/crying, creampie, double penetration, bicurious jean and bicurious eren (tasty, they definitely don't keep their hands to themselves), polyamory implied

buckle up, this was a blast to write and i hope it's equally as fun to read. enjoy <33

Jean should definitely not be here.

He should absolutely not be on his living room couch with Eren Jaeger’s girlfriend’s head in his lap, playing idly with her hair. By all traditional conventions and rules of exclusive relationships, Jean’s fairly sure that letting your girlfriend rest her head on the crotch of your roommate while he strokes her hair is on the no-no list. Not for Eren, apparently, who has your feet in his lap on the other end of the couch, playing with your toes absentmindedly and making you giggle and kick him in protest. Jean should not be here, but you and Eren have made a habit of roping him into circumstances that he would never admit to, not even at gunpoint.

If Jean is brutally, painfully honest with himself, he knows he had gotten himself into this. You were just so cute, wisping around their apartment in a big tshirt and tiny shorts in the mornings, always making sure to save him a cup of coffee. Maybe he had let his lingering glances linger just a little too long, smirked over his coffee mug at you one too many times, come up behind you to help you reach something on the top shelf and leaned a little too close, Jean couldn’t pinpoint exactly what caused Eren to notice his clear attraction towards you, but he did. Instead of getting his ass kicked like he had expected when you and Eren sat down to confront him, Jean had learned something.

Eren Jaeger has a greedy, spoiled brat of a girlfriend.

That had been the first time Jean came in you, fucking into your throat while Eren watched from across the room, palming over the bulge in his jeans. The second time, the two of you had invited Jean out for a drink, which, in hindsight, he should have seen the ulterior motive from a mile away. He had ended up cumming in your pussy, bending you over in the bar bathroom with Eren’s cock in your mouth. The third time had been in Eren’s bedroom as you rode him, Eren sitting behind you and working your hips over Jean’s cock as you wailed.

Jean had stopped his ministrations in your hair as he was reflecting on how exactly he got into this situation, trying very hard not to think too far into the filthy details to prevent propping your head up with an erection. You make a little noise of discontent, grabbing at his hands and urging them back to your hair.

“Jean, don’t stop. Feels good.”

Jean’s mouth tightens into a thin line at your choice of words, words he’s heard from you before under very different circumstances, but he obliges. So much for self control. Eren raises a smug eyebrow at him from across the couch.

“You’re giving her what she wants, right, Kirschtein?”

Jesus, you two are insatiable, still managing to grate on Jean’s razor-thin willpower with all of your clothes on. Jean wonders briefly what the appeal is for Eren, if he gets off on watching you take another man’s cock, bring another man near to tears with your warm, silken cunt. Does Eren enjoy dangling you in front of Jean until he’s forced to give in? Eren’s gaze lingers on Jean’s hands, threading through your hair, awaiting an answer.

“Yeah,” Jean says, not trusting any more words to his loose lips. They’ve already betrayed him three times now, saying yes when they should have been saying no.

“Good,” Eren responds simply, offering a small smile that, to anyone else, looks innocent. Jean knows Eren better than that. He watches as Eren’s hand travels up your bare leg, coming to rest on your upper thigh. You’re affected by it, such a simple touch, such a sensitive little body; he can feel you tense over his thighs.

Jean steels his jaw and forces his eyes back over to the movie. He’s got to stop playing these fucked up games of yours, it’s bad for him and he knows it. He hasn’t dated in months, not since you’d first pulled him into your little world, can’t bring himself to look at anyone else, can’t stand the thought of feeling anyone else’s skin under his fingers. His little crush has bloomed into full-blown lovesickness, and it would be best for him if he just stopped.

All of that ironclad willpower melts away in an instant when you let out a little moan.

Eren’s hand has snuck its way up to your shorts, nudging at the apex of your thighs. His focus is still trained on whatever reality show you’ve put on, completely ignoring the way you sigh under his touch. Jean’s cock twitches in his pants; this is his opportunity to hesitate, to say no, but he stays silent, only watching as you squirm in his lap.

“Eren,” your chastisement comes out as a breath. One of your hands comes to meet Eren’s, trying to push him away, but he simply swats your hand, shooting you a stern look.

“Behave,” Eren warns, eyes dark and dangerous. Jean’s learned that Eren’s mean to you, snappy when you put on your little attitude and fight back, but Jean doesn’t have the willpower. He holds you gently while he fucks into you hard, gives you anything you ask for.

You bite your lip and turn your head back to the TV, one hand coming up to pull Jean’s away from your head, wrapping your fingers around his. Jean’s breath hitches in his throat when you squeeze tight, back arching like you’re holding back a moan; Eren’s worked his way into your panties now, rubbing little circles over your clit.

“Look, Jaeger,” Jean makes a half-hearted attempt to remove himself, pulling his hand from yours and making all the movements to suggest he’s going to stand up, “I should–”

“What?” Eren cocks his head, as casual as if they’re discussing the weather. “Look at her, you really gonna just leave her there like that while I’m teasing her?”

Against his better judgment, Jean flicks his eyes down towards you. It’s a pitiful sight, your eyes already glossed over and staring up at him, wide and pleading, your bottom lip tucked in tight between your teeth.

“Jean,” his name comes out of your mouth, broken and already heady with arousal. That’s what snaps his resolve clean in two. You need him.

“What is it?” Jean hates the fondness in his voice, so glaringly obvious in front of your fucking boyfriend. Eren doesn’t seem to mind, though; he picks up speed, making you wriggle impatiently.

“Wanna kiss,” you whimper, reaching up towards his face.

“Don’t,” Eren stops Jean from leaning down, “she’s been bad today.”

“Is that so?” Jean rubs a thumb over your lips, frowning down at you. He can see the guilt in the way your brows knit together; oh, you have been bad, and you know it.

“Wouldn’t stop begging me for you, wanted to snuggle with Jeanie,” Eren raises his voice to mock you, slapping a hand against your clit and making you jump.

Jean’s face burns; is this it? Is this finally Eren telling him that you’re off-limits, finally deciding that Jean’s had his fill? And he’s going to rub it in his face by torturing you on Jean’s lap?

“Tell him,” Eren demands, another sharp smack landing on your cunt.

“Didn’t want to wait t-til you got home,” your face is already blotchy, eyes clouded with shame, “wanted Eren to text you and make you leave work.”

“And what did I say?”

“Be patient,” your voice wavers, Jean’s heart pounds in his ears, “and Jean would come take care of me.”

“So needy,” Eren tuts down at you, cruelly shoving a finger into your wet heat and instantly removing it, drawing a breathy whine from you, “see?”

Eren’s offering his finger to Jean, shining with slick, eyebrows lifted insistently. Jean narrows his eyes, cocks his head. What game is he playing at?

“What, don’t want a taste?” Eren’s eyes glint in the low light, taunting him. Jean leans forward hesitantly, lets the other man slide a thick finger between his lips. You always taste so good, salty and tangy; Jean feels a groan rumble deep in his chest. The corner of Eren’s mouth curls ever so slightly. Whatever game he’s playing, Jean’s losing. “Touch her, but no kisses. She has to behave if she wants that.”

You pout, bottom lip still wobbling where you’ve pushed it out, but you arch your back a little, straining your tits against your tank top. Jean knows you well enough by now, knows you chose that thin little top and didn’t wear a bra just for him, just to tempt him. You have been bad, but Jean doesn’t care, could never care when you’re looking up at him all sweet and needy. But he knows better than to disobey Eren’s rules, for your sake. Eren will edge you for the rest of the night, make himself cum, and leave you out to dry.

“Jean, please–”

“Sh,” Jean shushes you, sits you up just a little so he can pull your tank top over your head, “I’ve gotcha. Just be good for us, alright?”

You nod and smile drunkenly as he cups your breasts, kneading your nipples between his fingers. They’re one of his favorite things about you; he can’t resist leaning down to place sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your hot skin, lick around your nipples just light enough to tease. Maybe Jean can be a little mean too.

“More,” you gasp, fingers coming to clutch at his head, “more, I– oh!”

Jean’s eyes flit down your body to see Eren’s now got two long fingers shoved knuckle-deep in you, curling them fast enough to make you cry out, roll your hips up towards him. If he looks closely, he can see a wet patch forming on the crotch of your shorts; it makes his cock throb. He’s never met a woman that gets as wet as you, filthy at the slightest touch.

“You’re so messy,” Jean voices his mind without exactly meaning to, pulling himself from you so he can prop you up against his chest and let you look at the mess you’ve made. You give him a little whine of protest, tilting your chin up towards him, searching for his mouth.

“Please, I want–”

“I know what you want,” Jean thumbs at your lip, “he’s mean, isn’t he? Making you behave yourself when all you want is a little love, isn’t that right?”

“Mhm,” you manage to shoot a scathing glare at Eren that makes Jean chuckle, makes Eren smack your thigh hard enough to echo throughout the room.

“Stupid little slut,” Eren growls, moving his fingers faster, “you’re just all about Jean because he spoils you, aren't you? Someone has to make sure you behave yourself.”

Jean’s eyes widen; Eren’s clearly in a mood today, and Jean hopes it doesn’t have anything to do with his presence. Eren’s a mixed bag most times. Jean’s overheard him making soft, quiet love to you, little praises slipping out from the crack in his bedroom door, but Jean’s also watched Eren edge you to the point of tears, spit on your cunt, spank you until you bruise. Maybe Eren’s jealousy finally is getting the better of him, Jean thinks, maybe he just can’t say no to your insatiable appetite, and he is actually pissed that you had begged him for Jean.

“Jean,” you’re clutching at his shirt, moaning pathetically as Eren sucks harsh bites into your thighs.

“Did it to yourself,” Jean shakes his head at you sadly, “you know better than to make him mad.”

“Shut her up,” Eren nods his head at your mouth meaningfully, “I’ve heard enough out of her for today.”

It takes some awkward repositioning, but Jean’s able to pull his cock out, tap it against your tongue where you’ve already got your mouth hanging open, drool pooling on his lap under your cheek.You shove yourself up with some effort, and take Jean almost to the hilt on your first go, slurping lewdly around him. Jean nearly chokes.

“Oh, you are needy today,” he hisses, threading his fingers through your hair, making sure his view remains unobstructed. “That what you wanted? My cock in your throat?”

You manage a stiff nod around him in between the muffled moans you’re letting out around his cock; Eren’s added his thumb to the mix now, pulling your panties to the side so he can swipe at your clit.

“She was fuckin’ drooling for it earlier,” Eren says, meeting Jean’s eyes with a smirk, “should have seen her, all pouty and sad because her Jeanie wasn’t here. Pathetic.”

In the small part of Jean’s brain that’s still able to think rationally with his cock nudging at your gag reflex, he’s frowning in confusion. Eren is pissed at you because you were begging for Jean, and here he is spurring Jean on in fucking into your throat. It makes no fucking sense, really, but Jean’s getting his dick sucked, and not for the first time, by the woman he’s been pining after for months, so who is he to question it?

“Mmph!” You squeal, mouth too full to form a real sound, hips canting up violently towards Eren. Eren laughs, low and cruel.

“Aw, I think she’s gonna cum soon,” Eren pulls his fingers from you, a tear slips down your cheek. “Pity.”

Your cry of protest is whimpered by Jean standing up slightly, angling his hips to plunge as deep as he can. He’s only had his cock in your mouth a few times, but Jean’s intuitive. He knows how much you can take, knows exactly how far to push you before it’s too much.

“Don’t whine, baby,” Jean huffs, “just gonna make him more mad. He won’t let me help you if you don’t behave.”

“Look at you,” Eren runs his hands along your thighs, leans down to press a chaste kiss over where you’ve ruined your shorts, “being a good girl for us. S’that what it takes for you to behave? Need both of us?”

If Jean’s not mistaken, the garbled sound you make around him is one of agreement. The thought goes straight between his legs, brings him far closer to the edge than he’d like to be at this point. He pulls your mouth off of him, making you pout.

“But–”

“I know, I know, you want it,” Jean rubs an affectionate thumb over your cheek, “but you want me to fuck you, too, right?”

“Please,” you breathe, reaching down to wiggle your shorts off. Eren’s face lights up.

“Wanna show him your little surprise, baby?” Eren’s tugging at your shorts now, ripping them off and tossing them to the sides. He puts his hands under your arms, yanking you out of Jean’s lap and throwing your chest over his shoulders. When Eren’s hands come to your cheeks, spreading them so Jean can see, Jean’s heart nearly stops. There’s a little pink rhinestone glittering where your asshole should be– a plug, keeping you open and ready. Eren meets Jean’s eyes, daring. “She picked it out just for us. Want us both, don’t you? Nasty little thing.”

Eren punctuates his statement with a grin and a sharp slap to your ass that makes you jump, nod desperately from behind him. Jean reaches a cautious hand over, puts two fingers around the toy and pulls lightly, just enough to watch it move in you. You whine; he can see your empty cunt flutter.

“Can she take it? Both of us?”

“Oh yeah,” Eren brushes off Jean’s concern, “been using all her little toys for weeks, making me practice with her. She can take it.”

With that, Jean’s standing, padding into his room and knowing Eren’s following with you still tossed over his shoulder. His head spins; you, his precious little toy, have been stretching yourself out, getting yourself ready to have two cocks in you? The thought nearly makes Jean moan to himself, imagining how tight you’ll be all stuffed full.

Eren’s thrown you on the bed none too gently, stripping as you look up at him, hearts in your eyes. He stops midway through pulling his clothes off to grab your chin, offer your pleading gaze to Jean.

“Why don’t you ask him, hm?” Eren coos, looking between you and Jean with a filthy grin on his face. “Ask him again, see if you’ve been good.”

“Will you kiss me, Jean? Please?” Your voice has that thin, fucked out tone to it that drives Jean crazy, makes him want to make you cry.

“Yeah princess, I’ll kiss you.” He leans down, takes your soft mouth in his, Eren never releasing his hold on your chin. Jean can taste himself on your tongue, smiling appreciatively at the salty tang. Eren rips you away far too soon, pressing his mouth down on you far rougher than Jean had. They balance each other well, Jean thinks, the gentle caresses and the sharp slaps that make you come undone under them in a way neither of them can manage alone.

“On your knees, brat,” Eren sneers, the shred of tenderness that he’d grabbed your face with long-gone, “convince us to fuck you stupid.”

You nod obediently, sliding off the bed and onto your knees, reaching for Jean. He steps forward, letting you hold his cock in your little hand, rub up and down while you take Eren in your mouth. Even your hands are enough to drive him crazy, so soft and supple around him; Jean’s head falls back.

“Fuck,” Eren sucks a sharp breath in between his teeth, “that’s it, baby, take it.”

Something possesses Jean, what it is he can’t be sure, but he reaches a hand down to the back of your head, pushing you further down Eren’s length. He half-expects Eren to chastise him for it, but Eren groans, long and loud, a sound that simmers in Jean’s stomach.

Jean watches the contractions of Eren’s abs, trails his eyes up to where the other man’s strong chest is heaving, a strange, hot sensation trickling through his center. It’s too late to look away once he realizes he’s been caught, but instead of finding amusement when he meets Eren’s eyes, Jean finds something else entirely.

Eren’s looking at Jean the way he looks at you, all lusty and uninhibited. Jean nearly scowls at him, everything he’s internalized over the years rearing its head in his chest, but Eren stops him with a hand wrapped around the back of Jean’s neck. In the blink of an eye, there’s a set of lips on his, a sharp tongue licking into his mouth.

Jean lets out a wanton, strung out moan that Eren swallows, echoes with one of his own. Jean notices that your head has stilled under his hand, and he shoves you back onto Eren’s cock mindlessly, relishing in the way Eren’s mouth stutters against his own when you retch around him. He trails his hand, tentative and exploratory, up to Eren’s hair, grabs the bun at the back of his head and pulls. Jean’s surprised at the heat beneath his palm; he’s always known Eren runs hot, especially after the last few times he’s fucked you. It’s only natural to brush arms, brush legs during the act, but Eren’s skin is scalding, damp with sweat under his touch.

It’s not Jean’s first kiss with a man, not by any means, but he’d never guessed that Eren, headstrong, manly, unreadable Eren, had this in him. Had it been hiding there for all of these years? Was it a spur of the moment thing, that Eren would look back on and cringe at later?

Doubt getting the better of him, Jean breaks first, pulls away with a quiet smacking sound. Eren’s eyes are just as wide as his feel, searching Jean’s face for any sign of regret, of satisfaction, of something. A loud whine from below distracts them both, and whatever odd moment was forming is broken as they look down at you.

Your chin is covered in drool from where you’ve been choking on Eren, gagging around him, and your eyes are glossy and needy. Jean’s cock gets impossibly harder.

“What?” Eren taunts. “You jealous that I kissed your Jeanie?”

“Yeah,” you pout, brows knitting, but Jean can see the arousal written into your features. You liked it.

“Get up,” Jean says to you, voice hard and unforgiving.

You follow his instruction, standing on shaking legs. Jean can see the snark in your eyes before it comes out of your lips. “What, finally going to pay attention to me now?”

As soon as the words have left your mouth, Eren’s hand is around your jaw, wrenching it open for him to spit into your mouth. “Don’t fucking talk back, not if you want to cum.”

“You were doing so good,” Jean rubs a hand over your hip, guiding you to lay on top of him on the bed, “what, are you that desperate for us that you can’t mind your manners?”

“I just–”

“Want both of your slutty little holes filled?” Eren scoffs, kneeling on the bed behind where you’re straddling Jean’s hips. “Yeah, we know.”

You frown and lean down to Jean, searching for consolation, but he shoves you to sit back up, admiring the way your chest bounces with the movement.

“Can’t be nice to you all the time,” Jean’s voice is low, dangerous, “not when you act like a brat.”

He can see the heartbreak on your face, revels in it, but it’s short lived. Your eyes fly open as Eren works the plug out of you, tossing it to the side and wrapping an arm around you to take your neck in his hand. Eren looks down at Jean, exchanges a conspiratorial smirk with him.

“Why don’t you ask Jean if you can sit on it while I work you open, hm?”

Your eyes glisten pleadingly at Jean, but something’s come over him. He realizes he likes drawing those begging moans out of you, likes holding you over the edge between the tips of his fingers. Jean shrugs.

“Show me how bad you want it.”

While Eren reaches over to scrounge around for the lube in Jean’s bedside table, you start to work your hips over Jean’s cock, slicking it up with how wet you already are. Jean grabs you by the back of the neck, pulls you to him to drink down the little whimpers and moans that escape your lips.

“Jean, please,” you sigh into his mouth, “I need you.”

Jean’s resolve wavers, but he stands firm. “Beg.”

“I–” hot tears of shame are welling in your eyes now, Jean wants to lick them from your cheeks– “please, I need it, need your cock in me, please, Jean.”

“What do you think, Eren?” As Jean asks the question, it strikes him just how often he refers to the other man simply as “Jaeger”, not by his first name. In his mind, ‘Jaeger’ is his friend of many years, and ‘Eren’ is the man that he had just inexplicably, passionately kissed. “Think she’s earned it?”

“Let’s see how she takes my fingers,” Eren replies, slicking his fingers up with lube and forcing two into your already-stretched hole with ease, making you squeak in surprise, “oh fuck, she’s already so stretched out for us. Yeah, give her what she wants, let her warm up to it.”

“Thank you, t-thank you,” you stammer, out of your mind with want as Jean slides the head of his cock into you with a long groan.

“Shit,” Jean growls, holding onto you tight to prevent your hips from pushing down on him too fast, filling you up too quickly with Eren’s fingers hard at work in your other hole. Maybe he is the nice one, after all. “So fucking tight for me, aren’t you?”

“Mhm, for you,” you hum, lip tucked in your teeth.

“Think she likes you more than me,” Eren smirks from over your shoulder, working a third finger into you and making your jaw drop. For his part, Jean bottoms out, hissing as you pulse around him. He can feel Eren’s fingers scissoring through your walls, eyes rolling back into his head at the sensation.

“You okay? Is it too much?” Jean notices one of those tears that had sparkled in your eyes earlier threatening to fall, grabbing your face and forcing you to look at him. You look beautiful, all stretched around him and fucked out, mind blank.

“It’s a lot,” you nod, sniffle, “but I’m okay, I can take him. Want to, want– need you both.”

Eren’s eyes darken, and Jean can feel him remove his fingers, feel the accommodating stretch of your walls able to breathe again. Jean takes your hips in his hands, rolling you along his cock to grant both of you some of the friction you desperately need. You mewl, leaning over to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Eren’s lining up behind you, running a soothing hand over your back.

“Deep breaths, baby,” Jean instructs you, holding you to his chest. You sniffle and nod into his shoulder, muscles tense and twitching.

“Tell me if it’s too much, alright angel?” Eren leans over to press a surprisingly tender kiss between your shoulder blades and gives Jean a signaling nod, which Jean returns.

Jean can feel it the moment Eren pushes in, feel your body stretching itself to accommodate both of them. You squeal into the skin of Jean’s shoulder that you’ve taken between your teeth, and it hurts, but he lets you, rubbing circles on your lower back.

“Doing so good for us, baby,” Jean hums, pressing his lips to your ear, “too much?”

You shake your head, whimpering as Eren pushes in further.

“God, she’s– shit, it’s so fucking tight,” Eren growls, jaw clenched and a little vein protruding in his neck from the effort of holding himself back, reining in the part of himself that just wants to snap his hips forwards into you.

“Yeah, she is,” Jean chokes out, feeling suffocated by the way you’re pulsing around him, by the pressure of Eren’s cock shoving at him. He’s not sure where he ends and where the both of you begin, if there’s even any separation between his skin and Eren’s and yours anymore.

“Feel so– full,” you hiccup, nails digging into Jean’s shoulders. Your watery voice makes Eren pause, rub a hand over your back.

“You doing okay, baby? How you feeling?”

“Feels….” you take in a deep, heaving breath, “good. Feels so good.”

Eren grins, something feral. “That’s our girl. So good for us, yeah?”

“You like being full, hm?” Jean can feel a smile mirroring Eren’s on his face.

He doesn’t miss Eren’s choice of words. Our girl. And you are their girl, you love being full of them. Of course you do. You’re their insatiable little plaything, so good at taking them in each of your holes. You love it, you love them.

“It’s– fuck, I’m in,” Eren’s staring at where you’re all connected. Jean wishes he could see, but the tightness of you around him is enough, the way he can feel Eren through your thin walls, pressing against his cock. Eren pumps his hips experimentally, and all three of you moan in sync.

“Pl-please move, Jean, fuck- no, Eren, just–” you’re babbling nonsensically, music to their ears.

“We’ve got you,” Jean hushes you, fucking his hips up into you and cutting you off, “just sit tight and be our good little girl, alright?”

“Oh g-god.” Your words wrench from you in a sob, jolting with the thrust of Jean’s hips up into yours. It takes some work, but soon enough, they’re pumping in and out of you at the perfect pace, synced up so you’re never empty, not for long. You’re wailing, voice scratchy from all the crying you’ve already done that night, clutching onto Jean like he’s your last lifeline.

“Feels so fucking good,” Eren grits out, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hips, “so good for us.”

“Not gonna last long, not like this,” Jean agrees, sitting you up so he can see you, see your wet cheeks and your open mouth, “so pretty like this, aren’t you? All stuffed full?”

“She loves it,” Eren growls over your pathetic, shaky moan of agreement, landing a smack on your ass, “fucking loves us, don’t you baby? Tell us, tell us how much you love it.”

“I-I love it,” you manage, voice wrecked, “love you— fuck- love you both so much.”

Jean’s eyes widen, roll back in his head a little. You’re so perfect, obedient and willing to take both of them, let them abuse your holes. The thought makes him bite down on the inside of his cheek, not willing to be the first to break and ruin this perfect moment.

“Jean, I– shit, I’m gonna cum soon,” Eren pants, pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open when he meets Jean’s eyes. “Make her cum.”

Jean nods determinedly, somehow finds the presence of mind to slide a hand in between your slick bodies, swiping at your clit insistently. Your body blooms for him, back arching as you throw your head back against Eren’s shoulder. He feels you clench violently around him, knows you’ve already been on the edge since they started with you, knows you won’t take much goading to break for them.

“That good?” Jean forced out through his clenched jaw, trying to keep pace with Eren amidst your vice-like grip on him.

“Yes, so fucking– oh my god, J-Jean, I’m– Eren,” you’re babbling, close to the point of hysteria, eyes blank and teary. Jean’s free hand wraps around your hip, grabbing hard at the flesh there. He’s so gone he barely catches it, just barely, but he notices Eren’s hand. Eren lays his palm over Jean’s, deliberate and steady, grabbing onto the other man’s hand and squeezing down. Jean meets Eren’s eyes, fucked out and hooded.

“Come on,” Jean rubs faster, harder, his eyes flitting back and forth between yours and Eren’s, “show us what a good fucking girl you are for us.”

Whatever was tethering you to your sanity falls away, and you cum harder than Jean’s ever seen, mouth hanging open in a silent scream as your muscles lock up, legs trembling on either side of Jean’s hips. He grips your hip harder, trying to maintain a pace so you can ride your orgasm out on top of them. Eren follows quickly behind you, biting into your shoulder with a loud, long groan. When Jean feels Eren’s cum leaking out of you, feels the mess they’ve made between your legs, he falls over the edge too, slamming your hips down into his and grinding up into you with a moan.

The three of you collapse into a heap of limbs and sweat and stickiness, chests heaving and muscles twitching. Jean can feel the burn of Eren’s skin and the slick, plush give of yours, enveloping him from every angle, and for the first time in months, he lets his eyes flutter shut, letting himself enjoy the simple pleasure of touch.

But nothing is forever, and after a few minutes, he feels you begin to stir between them, mumbling about needing to go to the bathroom. Eren reluctantly rolls off the bed to help you to the bathroom to clean up, leading you out on shaking legs. Alone again, Jean throws his hands over his face and sighs, deep and hefty.

He shouldn’t be here, he should have never let you both goad him into this.

It occurs to Jean that he needs some air; the apartment feels suffocatingly small knowing that both of you are only a few layers of plaster and a door away. He pushes through regret and self-doubt, pulling his sweatpants back on and scrounging around in his laundry basket of unfolded, clean clothes to find a shirt.

“What are you doing?” Eren’s suddenly in the doorway, scowling at him.

“Going out.”

“You worked this morning. What, do you have plans or something?” There’s a clear note of annoyance in Eren’s voice, but Jean’s too exhausted and shaky to look into it.

“Jean?” You, Eren’s shadow as always, peer around his shoulders, a cute little furrow of confusion between your brows. “Where are you going?”

Jean nearly growls in frustration, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Out. I’m going out.”

He hates the way you flinch, grab onto Eren’s hand for stability in the wake of his snapping at you. Eren speaks next, but Jean doesn’t recognize his tone; it’s firm, but somehow, it’s lacking Eren’s perpetually angry intonation.

“Sit.” Eren’s got one finger pointed to the bed, ordering him as if this isn’t Jean’s own room. He drags you over behind him, plopping on the bed as if you all do this every day. Jean glares at Eren, softens his eyes at the way you’re looking up at him invitingly.

“We just want to talk a little,” you pat the comforter, smiling softly. That breaks him, and against Jean’s better judgment, he’s sitting where you’ve indicated, t-shirt still fisted in his hands.

“About?”

“We don’t want you to think– well, this…” Eren gestures his hands between the three of you, frowning deeper, and eventually sighing, “I don’t know how to say it.”

You pick up for Eren, smiling at him. “We don’t want you to feel like you’re out of place here, that’s all.”

Jean cocks an eyebrow. “In my own bedroom?”

“No, asshole,” Eren rolls his eyes, “with…with us.”

“What does that mean?” Jean’s heart nearly stops. A small, soft hand over his makes his breath catch in his throat.

“We’re not, like, experienced with this, so maybe we’re doing this whole thing wrong,” you look to Eren anxiously, who nods at you reassuringly, “but…we have room for you. If you’re open.”

“Like…” Jean barely trusts his voice to carry above a breath, “in what sense?”

“It’s not just sex,” Eren mumbles, flushing pink, “to us, at least.”

“We like you,” you clarify, smiling again, “and however you want us, if you want us, at least, you can have us.”

Jean blinks stupidly, looks to Eren to see if his face betrays anything, anything that could explain the conversation taking place, if it’s a joke, if he’s unsure. To his surprise, Eren looks up at him, green eyes earnest and burning into his, and takes the t-shirt out of Jean’s hands, giving one of Jean’s hands to you and taking the other for himself.

“It works,” Eren says, finding some conviction, “whatever you want to call it, this works.”

“For both of you?” Jean can hardly believe his ears, can hardly fathom the feeling of your soft, delicate little fingers and Eren’s calloused palms wrapped around his hands.

“For both of us. But…does it? For you?” Your voice wavers, your nerves betraying you.

“I mean, I don’t know what it is. I don’t understand it,” Jean admits, positive that his eyes are comically wide in the face of this new information.

“Me neither,” Eren shrugs, “but we don’t have to be so serious about it–”

“Not for now at least,” you smile at Eren encouragingly, nodding and urging him to press on.

“Not for now,” Eren agrees, squeezing Jean’s fingers ever so slightly, the smallest, most tentative reassurance, “we can figure it out later.”

“If you want it,” you bite your lip, looking up at Jean through thick lashes, “want us. We won’t be upset if you say no. No pressure.”

Jean thinks for a moment, thinks about everything you’re offering him. You, who he’s pined after for months, so beautiful and sweet to him. He thinks about sharing coffee with you in the mornings, holding you tight to his body and drifting off to sleep, letting you play with his hair. He doesn’t know if he loves you, but whatever he feels is pretty damn close to it, close enough to drive him crazy and keep him up at night.

And Eren. He’s been friends with Eren for near a decade now, known him for as long as he can remember. What this agreement means in terms of his relationship with Eren, Jean hardly dares to press, knowing how Eren is: flighty, argumentative, brash. None of that is written into Eren’s features now, though; Eren’s watching him intently, earnestly, chest stilled as if he’s holding his breath, waiting for Jean’s answer.

Something old and something new mixed together into something entirely unfamiliar.

“We don’t have to put a label on it now, or even go through the semantics,” Eren’s voice is spent, nearly breathless.

“We’ll give you some space if you need–”

“No,” Jean cuts you off, looking between you both, “no, it’s– it’s just a surprise, that’s all.”

Eren snorts. “How many times do we need to fuck you before you get the hint?”

“Eren!” You slap his arm, looking between him and Jean meaningfully. “Not really the time for jokes, is it?”

“I mean, fucking in the bathroom of Scout’s isn’t exactly wining and dining me,” Jean rolls his eyes. Eren laughs at that, unintentionally tightening his grip around Jean’s fingers and making Jean’s heart thud a little in his chest.

“You two are beyond annoying,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Eren and Jean exchange a wicked smirk.

“Regretting this already?” Eren teases you, digging his fingers into your side and making you giggle.

“Get over here,” Jean pulls you onto his lap, feeling emboldened to press a quick succession of kisses to your jawline, to your cheek. God, maybe he does love you, the weight of you in his arms feeling almost perfect. Eren leans over and tackles you both, tickling you wherever he can reach, Jean pinning you to his chest despite your protests and thrashing.

That’s what’s missing, Jean realizes. It’s not about you and Jean, or you and Eren, or he and Eren. He understands Eren’s bluntness earlier: the three of you just work, regardless of the weirdness of it all or the awkward conversations that lay ahead. It works, and for now, that’s enough.

Eren relents in his torture, scooting up the bed and dragging you with him, pulling Jean’s covers over you both like he’d done it a hundred times. Jean’s last little inkling of self-doubt perseveres, and he hesitates, until Eren tosses the covers on your other side back, patting the sheets meaningfully. Jean swallows his pride, swallows his insecurity, and pulls you into his side, very mindful of Eren’s arm tossed over both of your shoulders, of Eren’s fingers weaving absentmindedly through the hair at the nape of his neck.

And in the morning, when Eren mimics Jean’s loud snoring and you’re playfully throwing little crumbs of toast at them over the counter, the little voice in Jean’s head that had warned him to keep his distance will be completely silenced for the first time in months.

#eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #jean kirschstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x you #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager smut #eren yeager x you #theragethatisdesire

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matrixbearer2024 · 2 months

Text

Blips In My Routine

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: A slight interlude in the "Get Off My Screen!" Series to keep you guys entertained while I write it's continuation. I apologize that it's taking so long! School's kind of been kicking my ass recently and I've had to focus more on work than my fanfics. Don't worry though, I'll still be writing more Vox content(Lord knows we don't have enough /j) as long as you guys want to see it!

A/N: I love 🥭 Anon's idea and tbh I don't put it beyond Vox to do it either, I'm not sure if this is as good as the other installments but I hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. Btw, reader is in college so she's somewhere in her mid to late twenties. Happy reading!

You glanced at the ticking clock above the whiteboard.

It was just five more minutes before the bell would ring and free you from this boring lecture.

You fought to keep your eyes open as your gaze wandered back to the teacher's PowerPoint.

You hated this subject the most, not even because of the topic itself.

Rather, the professor could be kind of an old-timey asshole.

Thankfully though, it wasn't all that bad.

Not when you had to deal with an equally irritating digital companion anyhow.

Somehow you'd rather take Vox's bullshit over your professor's-

Speaking of, you both had fallen into a somewhat odd routine in the following months.

From greeting each other when you woke up or went to sleep-

To checking up on the other every so often within the day.

Not to mention spilling gossip when anything remotely interesting happened.

Either on his end or yours.

Like that time you saw someone's skirt snag in their locker door and just rip.

You could only snicker at their panic and shame.

The bitch highkey deserved it anyway.

Vox couldn't stop laughing when you eagerly told him all about it.

He knew you could be vicious if you wanted to.

Even if he was aware how much more inherently kind you were compared to the likes of him.

Sometimes the fact you found his companionship worth maintaining-

Or at least tolerable enough to keep-

Genuinely surprised the tech overlord.

Especially because you'd both been communicating for a little over a year by now.

It was nice interacting with someone else that weren't Velvette or Valentino.

Not that he'd ever openly admit to it.

It wasn't like Vox hadn't seen or heard you either, despite the fact he couldn't directly mess with the microphone or camera on your devices.

Your photos and files had more than enough stuff.

You often left him imagining your reactions and voice whenever the both of you chatted.

After all, most of your interactions were practically texting.

Sometimes you even wondered if Vox was constantly bored to end up finding companionship with you.

Or maybe he was lonely, who knows.

You genuinely couldn't be fucked.

He was an interesting guy and that was all that kind of mattered to you at the moment.

Your notepad window popping up snapped you out of that train of thought.

Glancing over at your laptop screen, the small desktop pet Vox gave you merely sat in the corner pointing at the notepad.

Oh it could do angry emotes too-

A slurry of words started pouring into the blank open text window, you figured Vox was probably having another shitty day.

Geez, who would've thought that hell would actually be absolutely crappy?

Well, let's see what he's complaining about this time...

This man was really typing way faster than you could read-

You were able to garner pretty quick what he was bitching about though.

Even if you kind of found the source of his irritation quite childish and kinda stupid.

"It's so dumb! The fact I can only talk to you with this goddamn thing is driving me insane!"

"Aaaand? What's wrong with the notepad? You also have the desktop companion."

You definitely started calling it that only because Vox was getting pissy that you were referring to it as a 'pet'-

"It can only do so much dollface, it's just glorified texting at this point. Besides, the tiny version of me is just an animated emoji keyboard."

"Well you already mess with my software regardless of what I tell you, what's stopping the great 'Technology Overlord' from hacking my camera and microphone?"

"Haha, very funny doll. Don't you think I would've done it already if I could?"

At this point you kinda just wanted to laugh at the whole situation.

Vox, a demon, one who could control electronics to his every whim-

Or so he claims.

Was being pissy about not being able to talk to you properly.

You couldn't tell if that was supposed to be endearing or hilarious.

He always got worked up over the smallest inconveniences.

You saw it as him being just very observant-

But it could also highkey be from his captain control freak tendencies.

"Then just make an app or something, you'll figure it out. Mess with the software settings or whatever."

That was the last message you wrote before the school bell suddenly rang out loud and clear.

You didn't even read his reply before shutting your laptop down and arranging your belongings.

Soon enough, you were the first one out of the classroom and more than ready to go home.

Vox knew you'd shut down your laptop after he got hit with his custom Voxtech screensaver.

Similarly to the wallpaper, he'd changed your screensaver to something more on brand.

While he did take your suggestion into account, a part of him wondered why he didn't bother trying in the first place.

But given the issues with him trying to access the built-in camera and microphone-

Vox felt a little concerned that modifying your devices too much could corrupt them.

That alongside all of your files and the data you had stored.

Wait...

Concern?!

He didn't actually care about your shit did he?

Oh fuck it!

He'll do whatever he wants to!

He was still careful not to really change much, he knows how annoying file corruption is and he didn't want to actually damage your data in case it had stuff you needed.

You weren't surprised that he'd taken your words literally-

You noticed a peculiar looking app appeared on all of your devices when you had arrived home.

That's a really fancy looking V design, was this Vox's doing?

Upon opening the app, you were greeted to a slightly odd looking interface.

It looked kind of like a more... sci-fi-esque styled chat room?

You wanted to say it lowkey looked like an Omegle room-

Before you could really nitpick at the design though, a text notification popped up on your phone.

You had just set everything up too, it seems like it came from the new app.

"Testing, testing. Are you getting this (Y/N)?"

To say you were amazed at what Vox had done was an understatement.

He was able to do so much in just so little time-

Just- how???

Oh, right- you should probably reply to that-

"Yeah yeah, I gotchu."

"Fucking finally! Working around your firewalls and antivirus was an absolute nightmare!"

Aaaaaaaand here came the usual ranting and bitching-

You just threw your phone on the bed and left to take a shower and freshen up while he kept at it.

Vox was actually quite proud he got the app to work.

Especially without affecting the existing system on your computer much.

If anything, it wasn't any different from the games or social media applications that already existed on your computer.

Granted, when he first booted the app to try it- the darn thing kept crashing and glitching.

But that was easily and swiftly dealt with.

Well, after much frustration and screaming but yes- taken care of.

By the time you came back, you saw an animated version of your wallpaper appear windowed in the app.

Right... that was supposed to be his face.

"Hello? (Y/N)? Can you hear me?"

What-

What the fucking FUCK-

Apparently, the thing you thought that was just a gif or an emoticon was actually a livestream of Vox's face.

And that was how he sounded like?

Okay that seemed pretty on brand for a telecasting television now that you think about it-

But how the hell did he manage to do this-

"Vox?! What the hell!"

You yelled out in retaliation, only growing more confused when Vox didn't reply or just kept repeating if you could hear him.

So he couldn't hear you, but he found a way to sort of project himself into your device.

What kind of upside-down thing is this?

Picking up the phone, you quickly used the chat-box to reply.

"I can hear you, but I don't think you can hear me?"

Vox just audibly cursed from what you could guess was frustration, staying silent and presumably typing out a reply.

Just how long had he been trying to fix this problem?

"I can't access your cameras or microphone whatever I do dollface, this was my last resort."

Seeing his live reactions allowed you to notice the genuine frustration and exasperation he had with the situation.

It kind of made you feel a little guilty for just brushing him off all the time now.

You always thought it was quite... old-timey for Vox to want to talk to you face to face.

Hold a "proper" conversation as he put it.

But maybe that was just because he grew that fond of your company.

Geez, what a sap.

"It's fine dude, I'm glad you made a specially designated space for our conversations though. My notes were starting to get cluttered with our conversations stuck in there with my school stuff anyway."

You could swear the small smile you saw on his face made saying all that worth it.

There really wasn't any reason for you two to switch mediums, but the new app wasn't unwelcome.

You were really starting to care more about this dumb TV head.

As you and Vox went back into comfortable regular conversation, you found solace as both you and your companion once again fell back into the odd routine you grew used to.

Come morning however, you were seriously reconsidering giving Vox the idea about making that custom application.

It was a stupidly large can of worms that you didn't even realize existed-

Notification after notification, you wondered just how much time the technology demon had on his hands to constantly bother you.

"Vox, I know you're happy about your app but can you stop spam sending me memes for five seconds?"

"Eh, not feeling it."

"Go to hell you dumb picturebox."

"Already here dollface, already here."

You facepalmed.

What an idiot.

Well, he was your idiot.

A/N: I'm leaning towards this being more than a just friends thing, dunno if I'll make it romantic or not in the continuation but I'd reckon that Vox and reader would get pretty close by now sooooo hahaha have fun y'all :D

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox x reader #vox x you #x reader #Get Off My Screen Series

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atlabeth · 1 month

Text

(not so) simple pt 4 - anthony bridgerton

pt1 pt2 pt3

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn’t.

a/n: SO. UM. once again this took fucking forever to come out which is kind of insane when you think about it because i've had 7000 words of this chapter written for like 4 months. truly wild. 2 babies have been born in the time that it's taken me to write this mini series but anyways there’s a lot happening here, shoutout to anthony for finally getting some more pov parts, the fun thing about your mc being out of commission for a while is that you have no choice but to write for the other characters. equality we love to see it. anyways most of it is angst, but it’ll all be wrapped up with a little regency romance bow i promise

wc: 7.6k

warning(s): aftermath of the end of last chapter which is angst. stab wound, talks of death, mentions of edmund's death, quite a bit of crying, anthony bridgerton's inner angst, miss worthing makes poor decisions. not a happy chapter but WHAT CAN YOU DO

“What were you thinking?” Violet demanded.

Anthony could barely hear his mother over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears, the pure terror gripping his heart. He’d no idea how to respond to her. He doubted she would like to hear that he, indeed, was very much not thinking.

And he was certainly not thinking much now, what with you on the brink of death with their doctor and his apprentice the only thing there to stop you. He could be of no help to you, bent half over in his chair, head in his hands, the image of you collapsing burned into his mind.

“Anthony Bridgerton, answer me.” Violet stood over him, her face flushed and eyes filled with anger and fear. “What were you thinking, bringing Miss Worthing out into the city?”

“I cannot deal with your questions right now, Mother!” he snapped, something letting loose inside of him. Anthony would have been ashamed had he any sense. “My future wife is in that room fighting for her life, and it is because I was not able to protect her. I am hardly able to form words at the moment, Mother, so please—” Anthony’s voice broke, and he ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Please just be quiet.”

It took a bit of nerve to be such an ass in front of his very own mother, but Anthony apparently had plenty of nerve at the moment. After you collapsed, he’d done the only thing he could think of in the moment and brought you back to Bridgerton House—it was closer than your residence, and if their physician had been able to keep his mother alive through eight pregnancies, then surely he could bring you back.

Now, though, he was not so sure. Every other option seemed to be plaguing his mind, for your blood still stained his hands and his clothing and Anthony didn’t know if he would ever be able to get it off.

His father died in his arms from something so small as a bee, and yet you had been stabbed. How were you meant to come back from that?

The door suddenly slammed open, and when Anthony glanced up, his insides twisted.

“Where is she?” Eloise demanded. Her windblown hair matched the wild look in her eyes, and the flush of her cheeks and haggard breathing told him everything. She was meant to be promenading with Penelope Featherington—her speed on foot was admirable.

“With our physician,” Violet responded. She seemed more subdued now, and though Anthony knew he would apologize profusely later, he could not find it in himself now. He could hardly find anything in himself apart from panic.

“With our physician—” She turned on Anthony, her gloved hands clenched into fists. “What in God’s name happened, Anthony?”

He allowed himself a moment to breathe before he responded. “She was stabbed.”

“Stabbed?” Eloise cried. “She was with you! How could she have been stabbed?”

“I was not with her when it happened—”

She scoffed. “That is a likely fucking story.”

“Eloise,” Violet said, “language.”

“I do not care about my language,” Eloise spat, gesturing wildly with her hands. “My best friend has been stabbed— I will say whatever I please!”

And then, as if to just add fuel to their fire, Benedict rushed in. Anthony held back a slightly unhinged laugh and shook his head. You were dying and they were out here arguing.

“I’ve made sure this hallway is off limits like you said, Mother.” Benedict looked just as shaken as the rest of them, and in a strange way Anthony was grateful. You’d grown closer to his family than he’d known. “Your lady’s maid is outside the door alongside a footman ensuring privacy, and your driver is on route to the Worthing residence to alert her parents. They’ve all been sworn to secrecy—no one will be disturbed, least of all Miss Worthing.”

“Thank you, Benedict.” Violet sighed, and she collapsed into an armchair. “At least one of us is in order.”

Benedict sat down on the sofa, his words coming out in a mumble. “I am hardly in order.”

The fire seemed to have died down in Eloise, for however temporary a time, and she settled down next to Benedict. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her.

“She’ll be okay,” Eloise whispered, “right?”

No one answered for a moment. At last, Anthony looked up, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Yes,” he rasped, hoping with everything in him that his words would be true. “She will be okay.”

He would not have been able to live with any other outcome, not when it was his fault in the first place that you were in this position.

Anthony didn’t know what he should have done, but he should have done something. He should have brought you to your senses and suggested a promenade in the park instead. He should have called on you at your estate, safe and sound in your drawing room. He should have been arm in arm with you, his heart steadily melting as you smiled and laughed and made him aware of all things good in the world.

He could not lose you. Not when he still had so much to tell you, so many words left unsaid.

Not when you didn’t know he loved you.

“I’m sorry, Anthony.” He looked up at the sound of Eloise’s voice—though she did not look at him and her arms were still crossed, the sincerity of it was not lost on him. “I know it was not your fault.”

His chest tightened. It was his fault.

“You clearly care about her,” she said. “It is not fair to pin this on you.”

“Sometimes we hurt the people we care about,” he said, his voice hollow.

“Sometimes,” she agreed. “But not this time.”

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Eloise had been at odds with him for nearly this entire season because of their ruse. Though she knew of its falsity, she still chastised him for taking up time that could have been spent with her, still rolled her eyes when he announced his leave to go see you, still questioned why he had to go after her best friend.

But Eloise was driven by her emotions, no matter how red hot or icy cold they may have been. At this moment, her concern for you outweighed anything, and she recognized the same in him.

So Anthony nodded. Once, twice, hardly moving but a clear acknowledgment. He glanced at his mother and brother, both unfocused with glassy eyes. His mother’s were red-rimmed, and she held a handkerchief tightly in one hand. The guilt hidden from earlier struck.

He silently thanked their governess for keeping Gregory and Hyacinth occupied, thanked that Francesca was on an outing of her own. The last thing he needed was for his littlest siblings to find out that the woman they believed to soon be their sister was one misstep away from death. And thank God for Colin’s decision to spend the day with Mondrich—one of his younger brothers in the heat of the moment was enough.

Anthony let out a shuddering sigh, screwing his eyes shut for a moment before he ran a hand through his hair then planted his palms on his knees. He could hardly sit still but he hadn’t the slightest idea of how to get his nervous energy out.

All he could think of was you. Of how the last word you spoke was his name. Of your dried blood on his hands, staining his clothing where he had held you. Anthony barely kept you from hitting the ground when you collapsed, and he nearly did the same once he reached his residence.

Yelling at any servant in the proximity to call for the physician, unaware of his mother trying to calm him until she shook him by the shoulders, having to literally be forced out of the room by the physician’s assistant once they arrived because he refused to leave your side.

It all felt like a blur, and yet he remembered it perfectly. It all played on repeat in his mind no matter how much he tried to block it out.

The door slammed open this time, and when Anthony looked up, he felt as if he could wither away.

“Where is my daughter?” Cecilia Worthing demanded, her husband trailing after her. She was all out of sorts, with an even wilder look in her eyes and a deathly grip on her skirts. Mr. Worthing’s expression made his heart sink, with his haunted eyes and taut lips.

“I am so sorry, Cecilia,” Violet rasped, and she crossed the room and enveloped her in her arms. It took a moment for your mother to respond, but she returned the hug as a sob escaped her.

“Your footman said she had been injured,” your father said levelly, though his voice shook ever so slightly. “How?”

“She was stabbed,” Anthony spoke up, forcing himself to look at your parents. “Some zealot in the city. I brought her here as quick as I could.”

“The city—” your father started.

“Stabbed?” your mother interrupted, halfway into hysterics. “How?”

“We got caught up in the midst of a riot,” he said quietly. “We were separated, and I assume it happened then.”

Mrs. Worthing let out another sob as she pulled her husband into her arms, and though he kept a semblance of solemnity as he whispered to his wife and held her close, Anthony could see the fear in his eyes.

How could he possibly offer reassurance? It felt different, staring at the desperation of your parents. The horrific realization that they might leave a family of two, might have to bury their only child.

His stomach twisted and Anthony’s head fell into his hands again. He couldn’t.

Eventually, Philip helped his wife onto the couch, and she remained curled into his side. No one said a word—how could they?

Apart from whispered reassurances between your parents and even shorter conversations between Benedict and Eloise, their saddened group continued in silence for the better part of an hour. No one spoke louder than a whisper, no one rose and left—they just sat together in their fear, hoping and praying that the inevitable could be denied.

Until the door creaked open and each of their heads snapped towards the noise. Anthony shot up at the first glimpse of their physician’s assistant.

“What news?” he asked immediately. The tension in the room had grown to be near palpably thick.

“The surgery went well,” the assistant said, and all the air dissipated from Anthony’s chest. “Miss Worthing lives. The doctor is ensuring a final few things, but provided our treatment is followed, we believe she will recover fully.”

Anthony fell back against the couch with a breathless laugh, and Mrs. Worthing sank against her husband, wrecked by thankful sobs. Eloise’s smile was enough to brighten the whole room, Benedict’s relief just as obvious. Violet just let out an exhausted sigh, her hand pressed to her heart.

“Thank you,” your father said. “Can we see her?”

“Miss Worthing is resting,” he said. “You will not be able to speak to—”

“We do not care,” your father asserted. “I need to see that my daughter is still alive.”

The physician’s assistant nodded after a moment, and the tension lessened in his shoulders. He helped your mother up, their hands clasped tightly together, and Mrs. Worthing looked at Anthony. You truly had your mother’s eyes.

“Will you come with us, my lord?” she asked.

“Oh, I—”

“You are family,” she said softly. “You’ve a right to join us.”

Emotion swelled in Anthony’s chest, and it took a moment for words to come to him.

“Of course,” he finally said, inclining his head. “And it is just Anthony between us. Please.”

The slightest smile spread across her lips as she nodded, and they all stood up together. Anthony took her offered arm and they started down the hallway together, your father on her other side.

How strange it was to be arm in arm with your mother. She thought the man beside her would be her future son-in-law, when he was truly nothing but a liar.

No, he thought, not wholly a liar. Not anymore. Because they believed that Anthony was to be your husband. And if there was anything this had proven to him, it was that he wanted nothing more than for it to be true.

Anthony just had to figure out a way to tell you. How strange that it would be the most difficult part of this ruse.

Violet’s maid and the footman stepped aside when they arrived and the assistant opened the door. Anthony followed your parents in, and his heart nearly stopped upon seeing you.

Your mother’s eyes filled with tears as she approached your bedside, and, after a nod from the doctor, brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear and laid the back of her hand against your forehead.

“She’s burning up,” she whispered.

“It is typical after surgery,” the doctor said. “With any luck, she will sweat it out. I will monitor her throughout.”

Your mother nodded, a shaky sigh escaping her, and she took your hand.

“I am so sorry, darling,” she whispered. “I am so sorry I was not there for you.” She brought your intertwined hands up and lightly kissed the back of your hand. “I love you more than anything. Please, come back to us soon.”

Your father joined her, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I do not know if you can hear us,” he said, voice slightly shaky, “but we are here for you. We will be here when you awaken, and every moment onwards.”

Mrs. Worthing looked back at Anthony, inclining her head towards you. Anthony swallowed his doubt as he moved forward, but the breath was stolen from him when he could fully see you.

Your eyes were closed. Your chest rose and fell just so, hardly noticeable, thin linens provided by the doctor rested over you, and sweat beaded on your brow. Alongside the discoloration of your skin, you looked…

You looked as if you were dead.

And Anthony knew that you were not—for God’s sake, you were breathing—but all he could think about, all he could see, was his father, all those years ago, dying in front of him while he could not do a single thing to stop it. And he felt that same helplessness with you; just standing there, watching, unable to do anything but hope.

“We are here for you,” he whispered. “...I am here for you. No matter what, I am here for you. Just know that, if nothing else.”

Your mother’s watery smile made him look to the doctor for fear of the same emotions eliciting even further in him.

“When will she wake?” Anthony asked. His voice sounded almost foreign to him.

“In a few hours, with any luck,” the doctor said. “At the very most, it will be the end of the day.”

“We will gladly host her until she is able enough,” Anthony said, looking at your parents. “And we have plenty of spare rooms for you to choose from if you wish to remain by her side during those days.”

“Thank you, Anthony.” Your mother placed her hands on his shoulders, though she had to look up at him, and she smiled. “You make her so happy. It will be my greatest pleasure to officially welcome you into our family.”

Anthony’s throat bobbed. God above, he hoped that was the truth.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “She… she means a great deal to me.”

“You’re a good man, Bridgerton,” your father said. “I’m thankful my daughter will end up with someone like you.”

“Your approval means the world,” he said, and he found he meant it wholly.

The doctor cleared his throat. “It would be best for her visitors to be limited as of now. The parents can stay, but…”

Anthony nodded, smoothing his lapels. “Of course.”

“We will alert you of anything,” your mother said. Anthony nodded again, and he allowed himself one more moment to look at you before he left.

You were alright. You would be alright. That was all that mattered.

Still, when he found himself alone in the hallway, finally able to breathe again, he still had that weight on his shoulders.

A revelation such as the one he’d had should have been a blessing, a relief. A man in love was meant to be a happy one. But a man in love did not usually find his feelings in the midst of season-long ruse whilst his beloved fought on her deathbed.

Anthony blew out a loose sigh, shaking his head as he continued through the halls. Being on his own, he found, was worse than sitting in silence with his family. He was trying to think of something to say, trying to gather his emotions and push them aside so he could be the man of the house as he was meant to be, but when he reached the room from before he was only met with Eloise.

She looked up from the floor, and he noticed the puffiness of her eyes, her slightly blotchy skin. His heart sank yet again.

“Benedict helped Mother to bed,” she explained, her throat bobbing. “All of this exhausted her. I’ve no idea where he is now.”

Anthony nodded, his mind still wandering. “Ah.”

“How is she?” Eloise asked, her brows knit in concern.

“As well as she can be.” Anthony sighed. “She has a fever, but she’s resting. Her parents are with her and the doctor is watching over her. He said she should awaken before the end of the day.”

The furrow softened as she smiled. It was good to see her smile. “Good. That— that’s good. I’m glad.”

“And how are you, Eloise?” Anthony asked, folding his arms.

“As well as I can be,” she responded wryly. Anthony’s lips twitched in a momentary smile, but she leaned against the couch and let out a sigh of her own. “This all certainly ended in the best way it could have.”

“The best way would have been for it to have never happened,” he said. “I should have prevented it—I was meant to keep her safe.”

“Brother,” she said wearily, “I already told you that you cannot blame yourself.”

“And I’ve never been one for listening to you,” he said dryly, “have I?”

Eloise huffed a laugh and shook her head. “I am not a fool, Anthony. I know what is happening between you two.”

Anthony frowned. “Eloise—”

“You love her,” she said bluntly. “Do you not?”

He tried to say something, but no words would follow. He could only stare at his sister and her nerve, resulting in a small smile from her.

“You are not that talented an actor, brother,” she said. “It is easier for me to believe the two of you are truly in love than that you could actually trick me in such a way.”

He blinked. “You believe she loves me?”

Eloise laughed, turning her head slightly. “I do,” she said. “And seeing as you are not denying it, I believe that means you love her.”

Anthony bit the inside of his cheek. So the two of you could fool the entirety of the ton for over half the season, but apparently not Eloise. How typical.

He walked over and took a seat on the couch next to his sister, leaving a bit of space between them. He took a deep breath before he spoke.

“I do.” He glanced at her. “I love her.”

Saying it aloud—admitting the truth of feelings he’d been fighting for so long—brought him an unexpected lightness. One other person knew both truths: that they had been lying about their love, and that Anthony had been lying about his lies.

It would have been laughable had he not been so unsure of everything else.

It took Eloise a moment to say anything back. For a while, she merely looked at him, unreadable depths in her eyes. He didn’t think he would ever be able to fully decipher his sister.

“I know my blessing means very little in the scheme of things,” she finally said. “But know that if this does come into fruition… I will support you two. Every step of the way.”

The smile that spread across Anthony’s lips was brighter than anything he’d experienced today, and he inclined his head. “Truly?”

“Yes, truly,” Eloise said, a smile of her own growing though she tried to hide it as she glanced away. “It is not a big deal. Do not make it out to be one. There are far worse men that she could end up with.”

“Alright,” he said, unabashed in his joy. For such a solemn day, Eloise had turned his mood around.

“And I will also keep your secret,” she said breezily, “again, so do not worry about that.”

“You say it does not mean much,” Anthony said, “but you are wrong. Your support means more to me than you know.”

She shifted, seemingly bolstered ever so slightly by his praise. “...I’m glad.”

He smiled as he stood back up, smoothing out the wrinkles in his outfit. Anthony grimaced as his hands came into view. He was in dire need of a bath and some new clothes. He could not deal with your blood on him for much longer.

“I must be going,” Anthony said. “I need to clean up. And,” he sighed, “ensure that none of this has spread to the rest of the ton.”

Eloise hummed, and Anthony was nearly at the door when she spoke up again.

“...Thank you. For being here for me.”

His expression softened as he glanced back at her. “I will always be here for you.”

Her lips curved just so. Anthony had never been so thankful to no longer be at odds with one of his siblings.

Your head hurt.

That was the first thing you could truly understand as your eyes slowly cracked open, squinting while you came to. You blinked a multitude of times, trying to regain your bearings and relieve the dryness of your eyes.

It took another moment for them to adjust to the darkness—the curtains were closed, but no light filtered through. How long had you been asleep?

You grimaced as you shifted ever so slightly, a dull but constant ache in your chest leaving you stiff, but there was a weight of a hand in yours. You glanced over and recognized your mother, asleep but still grasping your hand.

You smiled. She came for you after all.

But as you tried to shift further in the bed, you groaned, a sharp column of pain shooting through you. Your mother’s eyes shot open, her body starting from instinct, but it took a moment for her to truly realize it all.

“Nice of you to wake up,” you said wryly.

“You—” tears sprung in her eyes, and her lips spread in a grateful grin— “You must be alright if your first words are to antagonize your mother.”

“I am still here,” you said. You didn’t want to tell her you didn’t think you would make it. That you thought your fate was sealed when you pulled your hand away to nothing but blood.

“That you are,” she said breathily. “Are you alright, though? How do you feel? Does it hurt?”

“I believe I am alright,” you responded, “I feel… tired. And my chest aches.”

“The doctor said that would be expected,” she murmured. “What do you remember?”

“...That depends,” you said. “What do you know?”

Your mother gave you a look as she said your full name. “This is not the time for games.”

Your cheeks heated and you averted your eyes. “I was in the city with Anthony. I was stabbed after a riot broke out. That is all I remember.”

“Lord Bridgerton is the reason you are alive,” your mother said. “He brought you back to Bridgerton House, and their doctor saved your life.”

Somehow it was possible for your face to burn even more. You dragged Anthony out to that meeting, and you repaid him by making him drag your near lifeless body all the way back to his estate.

You were the worst fake fiancee a man could have.

You felt your eyes begin to fill with tears and you rapidly blinked them away.

“Where is he?” you asked quietly. “Where is Anth— Lord Bridgerton?”

Your mother gave you a knowing look. “It is alright to call him by his name, darling. It is quite clear how much he cares for you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You could not do this. “Where is he?”

“He is with his family,” she said. “You caused everyone quite a fright.”

“I can imagine,” you said hollowly.

“Would you like to see him?” she asked. “Because I am sure he—”

“No.” The haste with which you sat up drew out another wince. “No— I…”

You closed your eyes, biting down on the inside of your lip. You could not do this.

Your mother said your name softly. “What is it?”

You opened your eyes, ignoring the wetness around them as you looked at her. “Anthony and I cannot marry.”

She blinked. It looked as if it took a moment for your words to sink in. “What?”

“We cannot marry,” you repeated. “We— we never could marry. Our courtship is a ruse.”

Your mother blinked again, this time wholly taken aback. “What?”

“It is a ruse,” you repeated, more forcefully. “I wanted to escape the baron, and Anthony wanted to escape a thousand desperate debutantes. I proposed a mock courtship between us, and he accepted.”

Her brows furrowed deeper than ever before, as if she still couldn’t fully believe it. “You lied to me.”

“To everyone,” you said. You hadn’t a clue what had gotten into you, tearing apart a story carefully crafted throughout nearly the entire season, but something burned inside of you. You couldn’t keep going with this—you couldn’t keep stringing Anthony along, not when your feelings were far more real than they had any right to be.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“Because I did not want to marry,” you repeated. “The baron is nothing more than a lecher, and the thought of any sort of marriage to him disgusted me, but you and Father refused to listen to me. The only way to get out of it was for you to believe I had caught the affections of someone better. Anthony Bridgerton’s word was certainly better than mine in the eyes of the ton.”

Your mother stared at the floor for much longer than you anticipated, and you could not tear your eyes away from her.

“Mother,” you said quietly, “say something. Please.”

“I do not quite know what to say.” She finally looked at you, and your throat bobbed. “All of our plans have hinged on this marriage for the entirety of the season. What am I to tell your father?”

“Do not tell him,” you begged. “Please. It is enough that you know— I could not handle the shame if he were to as well.”

“I do not keep secrets as well as you,” your mother snapped. “Marrying into the Bridgerton family would have saved us, both in riches and name. Even your dowry would have gone to use for something of your choosing.” She shook her head, clasping her hands together. “And now you have almost died and we will have to control this and I just—”

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you interrupted.

That ceased her arguments quite quickly. “What?”

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you repeated. “He has both riches and name.”

Your mother frowned as she gripped your hands tighter. “You despise him. You got yourself into this entire mess in order to avoid him—you’ve said so yourself.”

“What choice do I have?” you asked desperately. “His name is enough to weather the scandal I’ve created. His money will secure a life for you and Father, and he has a fine pedigree. It is the only way to save the Worthing name.”

“Have you not considered the very man who has been courting you this season?” Your mother gestured with her hand. “Look where you are, darling! Lord Bridgerton has offered up his estate to us so we can be near you as you heal. Your courtship may have started as a ruse, but the man clearly feels something for you!”

“We have become very good friends over the course of the season,” you said, “and I am thankful for it. But I cannot taint the Bridgerton name further.”

“Dearest—”

“It is necessary,” you interrupted, but your quick movement brought on a sharp thread of pain in your chest and you winced.

“Do not push yourself,” your mother whispered, and you nodded.

“It is necessary,” you repeated, though slower. “My rebellion was just… naivete. I will not be the reason for our family’s ruin borne from my own stubbornness. I will secure our legacy, I will secure my future—I will marry Lord Cardew, and… and I will finally stop trying to resist my fate.”

Your mother stared at you, and you stared back. “You said it yourself—our family’s well being hinges on my marrying into wealth. What sane man would consider me after what I’ve done?”

She continued to look at you long and hard, her expression one of unreadable depths. “You are sure?”

No, you wanted to say. You had never been less sure of anything in your life. But you could see no other choice. So you nodded.

Your mother glanced away from you with a sigh, eyes searching the room for a moment before she nodded as well. “...Alright. If that is what you wish, your father and I will contact him once you are recovered.”

“Mother—”

“That is non-negotiable,” she said, and she smiled at you. “You may be blossoming into a true lady, but you are still my daughter. And I will not allow my daughter to do anything until she is fully healed.”

You nodded. “Alright.”

“I am sure that it goes without saying that you are never going to be allowed out of our sight until you are married and settled?” your mother said, and though it caused a sharp pain in your chest, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“I assumed just as much, Mother.”

Dearest Reader,

It is a fact well known throughout Mayfair that the social season requires the full attention of every single person, frantic mamas and bored bachelors alike. It is a game of wits unlike any other, and this season has proven no different. The middle of our merriment marks many of the most eligible debutantes as engaged — this author pays special attention to the season’s diamond, Lady Adelaida Kennington, who has found her happy ending with the young Earl Pembroke.

Though congratulations may be due to another lady of the ton, one of the simple yet highly discussed Worthing family — as it seems, Miss Worthing has tossed aside the much desired Viscount Bridgerton for the hand of the Baron Jonathan Cardew. One can only be left to wonder what Lord Bridgerton must have done to go from an obviously incoming proposal back to his rakish ways in little more than a night, but it most certainly has to do with Miss Worthing’s recent disappearance from society. Word has passed around of her frequent visits to the lesser parts of London, engaging in activity that can only be described as scandalous. Perhaps it was not the fault of the viscount indeed—Miss Worthing may have finally pushed Lord Bridgerton to his limits.

No matter the reason for the ending of the courtship, this author must extend her thanks to the pairing for providing such material for my pen. It is not every day a nobody in the ton manages to bring down two families at once. Perhaps Miss Worthing deserves congratulations for conducting this fantastical feat all on her own. If it was outrage she was searching for, she has certainly earned it.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown

You huffed a sigh and threw the leaflet across the room, letting your head fall back against the wooden headboard. It was one thing for Lady Whistledown to criticize you, it was another thing entirely for her to bring your family and the Bridgertons into it. You deserved everything that came towards you for what you had done, but your parents, the Bridgertons, Anthony— they were not a part of any of it.

Especially when all your father had done was visit the Cardew estate to have a conversation with the man, see if he was open to the possibility of a marriage with you. Nothing was at all set in stone, but the way Whistledown told it, you were already steps from the chapel with a ring on your finger.

So now, as if it weren’t enough that you were bed bound until your physician deemed you recovered for regular activity, as if it weren’t enough that you were likely set to be married by the end of the season, as if it weren’t enough that you were constantly denying Anthony’s requests to visit you, every single one of your idiotic mistakes was revealed to the ton through a woman too cowardly to write without a pseudonym.

If you ever found Lady Whistledown, you thought bitterly, you would strangle her.

The silence in your room was broken by the door opening, and when you looked up you were greeted with Julia’s face. The usual smile she bore when around you was not there, but before you could ask she answered your unspoken question.

“I apologise for the interruption, my lady, but you have a visitor. He insisted on seeing you.”

A small part of you knew who it was even before she stepped aside, but when Anthony Bridgerton walked into your room your breath still hitched the tiniest bit.

“What are you doing here?” you asked immediately, holding back a grimace as you pushed yourself into a sitting position.

“I had to see you,” Anthony said.

“And you chose to do so by invading my privacy.”

“I have not heard a single word directly from you nor your pen since the accident,” he said, his voice not without a slight barb. But underneath it all, an uncommon hurt festered inside of him. You could not see it, exactly, but you could sense it. “Forgive me for wanting to confirm with my own eyes that you were still alive.”

“I will remain here as a chaperone,” Julia said, closing the door behind her. “You may talk as freely as you please — I will not repeat a single word.” Anthony nodded and pulled the stool away from the vanity so he could be closer to you, then sat down.

Despite Julia’s reassurance, neither of you spoke a word. The silence began to weigh heavily, the tension growing so thick it could be cut with a knife. For so long you had been rejecting Anthony’s requested meetings, not wanting to see him after what you had done. You feared for how he would react, both to your complete ignorance of him after your nearly fatal injury and your acceptance of Lord Cardew’s courtship.

You left Bridgerton House without a word mere hours after your ill-fated decision despite the protests of your parents—you could not stay there for another moment under Anthony’s good graces, not when you had doomed any possible future with him. You did not deserve a single millimeter of Bridgerton good will.

You stared down at the covers you laid under, fidgeting with your hands in your lap as you focused on everything except your visitor. You could not bring yourself to meet Anthony’s gaze, though you’d felt his own on you for the past five minutes.

“Is it true?”

You finally looked up at his sudden question, meeting the intensity of those dark brown eyes you’d lost yourself in so many times. “Is what true?”

“Your marriage to Jonathan Cardew,” he said stiffly. “Is it true?”

Just as quickly, you glanced away. It was near impossible to even be in the same room as the viscount since you had made the decision, even more so to think of the reason why it was that way. So instead, you just nodded.

“Yes. If all works out, we are to be wed at the end of the season.”

“Why?” Anthony leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees as his hands clenched into loose fists. “You openly despise the man—you asked me to court you to avoid him. Why in the name of all things rational would you willingly enter a marriage with him?”

“He will provide for me,” you said. “He has money, he has land, and he is a respectable member of society. He has already been content with the possibility of marriage once, and his name is enough to weather the scandal I have created. It is the smartest choice available.”

“And what of us?” He had an almost wild look in his eyes, and the worst desire took root in you to root your fingers in his hair and ease the troubles you’d caused him. “We have spent the near entirety of the season becoming closer, and you are willing to just throw it all away for a man like Cardew?”

“I could not trap you in a marriage you do not want,” you insisted. “You deserve more than a woman you share no love for, Anthony, and to be married to the woman who made a fool of your entire family. Lord Cardew is the only option.”

“Even if all of that is true, that does not mean it is a smart choice!” he exclaimed. “He is not a safe man to be around! If he has been pursuing you so strongly and only backed off because of my influence, what do you think will happen when you are his legal wife with no sort of protection?”

You swallowed thickly at his words. “He is not that sort of man, Anthony. He may be… horrid, and a complete egoist, but it will be a life of comfort. And that is the life that I need.”

Anthony laughed breathlessly, completely devoid of mirth as he frowned. “You cannot be serious. I have been by your side for an entire season of feminist rants and marriage complaints, half of which revolved around Cardew himself, and now you are telling me that you are just— just alright with this sort of compliance?”

“Nearly dying because of my own idiotic choices has forced me to reexamine my life,” you said plainly. “If I had been even the slightest bit unlucky, I would have perished on those streets, and what would I have had to show for myself? A rebellion that I was only able to take part in because of the privilege I so often fought against?”

“You have made a difference,” Anthony insisted. “You provided for women that no one has the gall to look out for. You’ve spoken out for your own rights, you’ve stood up for your own interests rather than sit around and take what you have been given.”

“I have been fighting against a life that so many less fortunate than myself would kill for,” you said. “I believed death to be a better fate than being forced to marry a man I did not love, but when I was on death’s door, I realized how foolish I was— how utterly selfish.”

“You are not selfish,” Anthony said, but you shook your head.

“I am. Unbelievably so.” You huffed a mirthless laugh as you looked at him. “My parents did not love each other when they married, but they were friends. They could tolerate the other’s presence, and neither of them were fortunate enough to be able to care about anything else. They have grown to love each other in their own way, of course, and they are in a better situation now, but they could not have known it would turn out that way. They did what they had to for the sake of their families and themselves, and it is time I do the same.”

“Love matches are rare,” you murmured. “And even if I were granted the opportunity… I would not deserve it.”

Anthony shook his head. “Do not say that.”

“It is the truth,” you said, letting out yet another humorless laugh. “I have been horrible to my mother when all she has ever wanted is a better life for me than she had. I have fought her for every step of the way for no other reason than my hubris and the dim belief that I deserved different than everyone else simply because I wanted it, no matter what the greater good was. How can that not be selfish, Anthony?”

“You do not have to do this,” he insisted. “You said you dreamed of unmarried life! You told me your fantasies of escaping from society, of living on your own and depending on no one but yourself. You are willing to give all of that up, just like that?”

“I was a fool for ever doing so!” you exclaimed. “Anthony, this world is hard enough on its own for married women — what do you think will become of my family if I do not marry? What do you think will become of me?”

“But you are strong.” Anthony leaned forward, his brow knit in determination. “You are strong, and intelligent, and fully capable of managing on your own. Spinster brand be damned, if it is what you wish, you will flourish completely!”

“Will I?” you questioned, and you gestured at yourself. “I am bound to this room of my own doing because I refused to see the truth of the world around me. I was young and naive to believe I could achieve anything of the sort I dreamed of without consequences, and I will be naive no longer.”

“If you insist on marrying, at least find somebody else,” Anthony begged. “You will be miserable for the rest of your life if you marry Jonathan Cardew.”

“I cannot afford to marry for love, my lord,” you said simply, “and even if I could find a man who loved me, I could never love them back. I would not force anyone into a marriage they did not want, not when…” You trailed off, the words catching in your throat.

You shook your head, choking them down. “It is not important.”

“Please do not marry him,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “I beg of you.”

“Then who should I marry?” you asked, almost brazenly. “Who should I marry, if not him? I am certainly not one for options.”

You did not know what you wanted Anthony to say. To marry him? That he felt the same for you as you did for him? That, while you were indeed a fool for falling for him, he was one as well. That he would not leave you, not now, nor ever.

But instead he just stared at you with those dark brown eyes that even now could make you melt, a million emotions brewing inside of them yet none of them being given an outlet.

“I do not know,” he murmured, and your heart sank. “But I beg of you, do not let it be him.”

“It is not your decision to make,” you said quietly. “Soon I will be engaged to Lord Cardew, and I will be out of your life.”

There was an underlying desperation in Anthony’s eyes as he looked at you now, that storm of emotions thundering inside of him begging to be expressed. “I do not want you out of my life.”

The words felt like poison leaving your lips. “You do not have a choice.”

Before Anthony could protest any further, you stood up and looked over at your lady’s maid. “Please escort Lord Bridgerton outside. I wish to be alone.”

“My lady, are you—”

“Julia,” you said, your voice strained, “please.”

She nodded and she gestured for Anthony towards the door, but he did not move a centimeter.

Anthony said your name with such pain that you could not even stand to look at him, the inside of your lip drawn so tightly between your teeth that you could taste blood all in the effort to prevent tears from emerging.

“Do not make this harder than it has to be,” you whispered. “I beg of you, Anthony.”

“Lord Bridgerton,” Julia said quietly, “please obey my lady’s wishes.”

He stared at you with desperation before he finally nodded and walked out the door, Julia closing it behind him.

You screwed your eyes shut as you dug the heels of your palms into your forehead, letting out a frustrated sob as your hands dropped back down. The pinpricks of tears were already starting, and while you were thankful you were alone, you already longed for Anthony’s presence.

You wished, more than ever, that things could be how they used to be. You wished you’d never even made this ridiculous deal with him—then you would not be in such pain, yearning for a man you could never have while the reputation of you and your family was destroyed and your life fell to pieces around you. You could not do a single thing about it, and you could not blame a single soul for it other than yourself.

You’d never felt so useless.

taglist, only bc this series has been going on since i still had a taglist lmao. pls dont ask to be added because i do not do tag lists anymore!! follow me or rb the masterlist or something idk @ifilwtmfc @readers-post @fangirling-galore @funkydinosaurs @baby-i-am-fireproof @mess-is-my-aesthetic @likeballet @mdkfh @brezzybfan @magical-spit @lafy-taffy @miss-celestial-being @mercurysrhapsody @evilsailorsenshi @mainstreambitchlife @aangsupremacy @chloepluto1306 @lostaudfound @panhoeofmanyfandoms @blhemmings @my-acrylic-heart @seninjakitey @vlodi @arianagrandes-things @preciousbabypeter @youraliendaddo @stupidlittlebei @illuminwtesz @eringaitskill @otheliesstuff @users09 @chloepluto1306 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @m-rae23 @the-horror-and-the-wild-simp @diemdurantia @theyoungestchild0w0 @mschievousx @alwaysreading1019 @ibelieveindragons141 @pretzywetzy

#this is so soap opera of me #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fic #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton fanfic #x reader #bridgerton imagine #sadie writes

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pilfappreciator · 4 months

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I just saw your request guidelines! how about a John Dory x gn!reader that babies him? he's all abt being the leader and bossy and such, it would be cute when he turns soft and lets the reader baby him.

Ah yes, love me some middle-aged dumb jock "all about that van life" squating in the woods and interrupting strangers weddings for no reason ex-boyband member fluff 😘

John Dory x Reader: his ass needs pampering

Includes: GN! Reader, touch-starved John Dory, mentions of prolonged isolation, slight angst

🥽 It'll take some time (and lots of persuasion on your end) before John Dory even CONSIDERS the idea of letting someone else take the reigns

🥽 He was forced to grow up pretty quick when he was younger. He was the oldest of five and it didn't seem like any of them had parents to fall back during their childhood. Sure, there was Grandma Rosiepuff but it wasn't quite the same... and after Brozone started to take off in popularity, John Dory felt it was his time to step up as a leader

🥽 Obviously, having that kind of pressure on your shoulders while growing up in the public eye doesn't bode well for someone's self-worth

🥽 I feel like John Dory found comfort in being in charge tho?? Like he likes when things go his way so he definitely appreciated the feeling of control lol

🥽 BUT LIKE I SAID, this man CAN be talked into taking the backseat for once!!

🥽 Start out small. Maybe do little favors for him, like grabbing him a tool or item he needs before he goes for it himself, or holding doors open so he can walk through, or using your thumb to wipe some crumbs or sauce off his face (this guys a messy eater, don't even ATTEMPT to convince me otherwise)

🥽 Tbh he probably won't even notice what you're doing at first. He'll just be like "aw thanks babe :]" and move his ass right along

🥽 He'll only start taking the hint once you start escalating those favors. Next thing he knows you're offering to drive Rhonda so he can relax, or making his meals for him, or offering massages

🥽 I mean... he might not refuse that last one but that's besides the point shahlskdja

🥽 It's only when you start taking on some of his chores and usual manual labor that he starts speaking up

🥽 "Look, babe, I appreciate what you're tryin' to do but it's fine! I've got this!"

"No, it's cool, I'll do it."

"Seriously, you don't have to."

"I know! But I want to."

"Really, your boy's got thi---"

"You sit your ass down and enjoy that sandwich I made you, John Dory."

"Okay o_o"

🥽 Yeahhhh you're definitely gonna have to be firm with this man if you actually want him to relax. Maybe make his ass do a puzzle or something askjdhas

🥽 I mean it's not like you're taking away his whole sense of agency or anything. He still has the freedom to go and do as he pleases, it's just that now he's got you looking over his shoulder, ready to jump in once he so much as STARTS overworking himself. It's gonna take him some time to get used to being doted on. Fully expect some pouty looks being thrown your way and to hear him grumbling under his breath

🥽 BUT THEN YOU START ESCALATING EVEN FURTHER?? Suddenly you're buying/making him things he needs, like new tools or equipment??? Maybe you two are out on the town one day and you spot him eyeing something through the window of one of the shops, and a few days later—

🥽 "WHOA!! WHERE'D YOU GET THAT?!"

"Oh, I just saw it the other day and thought of you! :D"

"...Babe, that's a grappling hook."

"Did I stutter?"

🥽 John Dory starts coming around to the idea of being spoiled after that lol

🥽 I'm like 99% sure everyone in the fandom agrees that this man? This guy who's been living all alone in the wilderness and probably eating insects for nutrients for like 20 years??

🥽 TOUCH-STARVED AS HELL

🥽 I mean he was already pretty touchy-feely BEFORE you started pampering him... but then you start giving him more massages (specifically back/shoulder/foot rubs)... and getting him to lay his head on your stomach/lap after a long day... and running your fingers across his scalp all the while...

🥽 Better have a mop and bucket on standby cuz if this man melts any further, he'll be a puddle ;))

🥽 Definitely starts to seek you out after he's had a bad day/been in his head too long. Lay some kisses on his forehead pretty pls <33

🥽 WORDS OF AFFIRMATION!! DROP SOME PRAISE AND COMPIMENTS ON THIS GUY!!! I mean he probably got plenty of that during his Brozone days but most of them were aimed at his looks/music

🥽 I mean he's definitely not gonna complain if you call him a hunk but I digress

Not even gonna lie to yall... When the first teaser for the movie dropped I was like "Hmm... idk if the movie's gonna as good as the last one but at least Branch's long lost brother is hot"

ALKSHDJLKJAKSD IM SORRY BUT WHY DID THEY MAKE ALL THE CHARACTERS HOT WHAT THE FUCK

#go ahead and guess my fav brozone member #bet you cant #fr tho john dory is just like-->#>;]#for like half the movie and i was like #“damn he sexy tho”#im bi and hes a himbo i shoulda known better 😔#trolls #trolls band together #trolls john dory #brozone #brozone x reader #trolls x reader #x reader #headcanon

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stxrvel · 1 year

Text

the outbreak

summary: your bruised heart and shattered mind have feelings for Bucky and you had planned to tell him very soon, however, the disastrous outcome of the last mission and a heated argument make you think the best option was to keep quiet.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: 8k or so

warnings: implicit reference of suicidal thoughts, some suicidal accusations, maybe like get your shit together kind of stuff, a lot of bad words, angst. there's just no happy endings in this account. mentions to explosions. also, there's a plot in the plot? that kinda got there out of nowhere, but i liked the way it turned out. probably do a second part later.

note: hey! i can't believe I actually managed to get one thing done and ready to be published in one day, i think i got lucky. im still working on the next part of how to break a routine in one year but it's been a rough journey, i don't know how it would end up in the end. still hope you like this and know that feedback is really appreciated! really love reading your comments and opinions 💜

1.5, part 2!

You were static all the way back to the Complex. Your ears were still ringing from the vibrations of the bombs that exploded near you and which, by sheer luck, didn't cause your death. You couldn't look up from your clasped hands and you couldn't shake the chagrin in your chest that hadn't left you since you saw the look on Bucky Barnes' face when you were found in the rubble.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Extraction of information, no more than five hours and you would return to the Complex. But it got complicated when you were ambushed, as if they were already expecting an Avengers team to show up in that building and they were ready for anything. You weren't supposed to face anything that day, otherwise you wouldn't have gone on the mission in the first place.

You knew you were always going to be the team's priority when they went on an extraction mission, whether it was information or people. You weren't the most skilled or the most resourceful, so the team had to keep their eyes on you and the mission objective. That in itself felt like a burden, so you always tried to just do your job and not complicate things for the others.

This time, however, you couldn't keep yourself safe, not even despite the orders given to you by the team and the mission leader: Bucky. You were casually perusing the shelves of a room where you knew the information they were looking for, which was vital to knowing the enemy you were dealing with at the moment, was to be found. You were so close to getting it that electricity surged through your limbs and little shots of adrenaline coursed through your body.

But, at that moment, Bucky's voice reached your hearing.

“Y/N, get out of there right now and meet Wanda on the first floor.”

“Hold on a second. I've almost got it.”

“I told you to get out of there right now. It wasn't a goddamn recommendation.”

“Can't you wait a second, Bucky? This is the key to everything and you know it.”

“I don't give a fuck about those documents, Y/N! Get out of there right now!”

And you should have listened to him. You should have listened to him the first time. But you always had this constant need to prove yourself, to make your time count for others and for them to notice that you were worth something. That you weren't a burden on the team. For a while the line of that goal was blurred, you didn't know if you were trying to convince them or yourself. On that occasion, you decided to make the decision to prove your worth and stay to find out what they had spent weeks focusing their time on.

“Fuck,” you heard Bucky curse. “Wanda, can you come in for-?”

The sound of a large explosion caused horrible interference on the team's communicators.

Sadly, until that moment you understood that maybe you should have listened to the team leader. Still, you held your place for a few more seconds until you found your target. But it was too late by the time the building began to shake.

It had taken the team about twenty-five minutes to find you. They didn't even know how you had survived.

“Bucky, what happened in-?”

“I'll give the mission report to Fury later,” the man cut off Steve Rogers' words, walking past him without giving him a glance, and continued on his way straight to the entrance of the Complex.

Steve turned his gaze until his eyes rested on yours. You felt like you had a lot of words stuck in your throat, a lot of overflowing feelings that you couldn't control. You just looked down again and approached him to hand over the mission objective. For which you risked your life almost without thinking. Then you walked straight back to your little room and didn't leave for the rest of the day.

---

Your friendship with Bucky was great. From the moment you joined the group, he was the person you hit it off with the fastest, surprising almost everyone on the team. Even before you got to know Bucky, even though you didn't consider yourself an outgoing person, you would tell him stories about your day and mundane things you did every day. At first you didn't even know if the man was listening to you, you just knew he was there and never left until you were done talking.

The situation wasn't so bad. You were used to talking to yourself since you started living on your own, a couple of years before you joined the team. Sometimes when Bucky came into the kitchen or appeared in the living room, you were already mumbling to yourself about something.

For a while you never knew why he stayed to listen to you.

And months went by like that. Each time you would show up wherever he was or he would show up wherever you were and you would just tell him something. A story from your childhood, a story from your grandparents' lives, a news item from around the world, an extremely strange and bizarre fun fact.

That little interaction was something you quickly got used to.

That is, until outsiders had to dip their spoon in and stick ideas that didn't belong in your head. Ideas you weren't supposed to have or even consider once. You knew it, but you learned it again the hard way.

“Have you seen Bucky today?” you asked Sam Wilson once when you walked into the kitchen.

“No,” the man quickly replied, finishing his coffee.

You pursed your lips and were already on your way back to look for him elsewhere when Sam's voice reached your ears again.

“You hit it off pretty quick with him, huh? I thought he was a tough nut to crack.”

“Don't talk about him as a thing. And it's really not that complicated to get to know him. You just have to make an effort and not push.”

“Roger that, Captain,” Sam smiled and took a sip of his coffee.

Hearing that lit a light bulb in your head.

“And have you seen Steve?”

Sam shook his head as he lowered his mug to rest it on the kitchen counter. “No. They must be together because I haven't seen them since yesterday. Maybe they went out on a mission?”

You nodded at his words, thoughtfully.

“But he didn't tell me he had to leave today…” you mumbled, but it reached Sam's ears.

“Does he usually tell you what he does in the day, too?”

You turned to look at him, distracted.

“Something like that. He only does that when I ask him to go shopping with me.”

“He goes shopping with you? Really?”

“Sure,” you quickly replied focusing all your attention on his surprised face. “It's a dangerous world for women, you know? I can't take chances.”

“Clint goes shopping once a month. You've never ordered from him?”

“No, I like to walk around the supermarkets and look at every single thing on the shelves. Clint is very fast and boring.”

“Ah, so the only person you feel comfortable with at those times is Bucky.”

You shook your head in a nod, completely unaware of what the man was trying to imply with his words.

“Natasha once accompanied me, but because she flashed the knife hidden on her hip at every man who saw us for more than five seconds, she was banned from more than seven venues and the police were almost called.”

“Mmm,” Sam nodded. “Sounds very much in keeping.”

“So yeah, that's why Bucky is my shopping buddy. Steve is very inquisitive, Tony brags every two minutes about how quick and easy he could do the market from the app on his phone, Wanda gets lost in the movie section and I can hardly ever get her out and you just don't shop because you leave it all to Clint.”

“And Bruce?”

“He leaves a list for Clint or asks FRIDAY to take note of every time he says he needs something so she can forward it to Clint.”

“Wow, who knew the Avengers were such bad shopping buddies.”

“Yeah. Bucky just walks with me, reaches for things that are too high and does his own shopping quietly. Or sometimes we chat. About shopping stuff.”

“That's very domestic of him.”

You let out a short laugh, agreeing with his description. It was something you thought about from time to time.

“Bucky is a very domestic person, actually.”

“You seem to know him well.”

“Maybe so. Only from what I can see of him by his actions.”

“He's not very active with you in talks then.”

“Not very much. But if you can get to know him well, it's easy to tell what he means just by his behaviors.”

Sam gave you a nod, his coffee on the counter long forgotten.

Then, as if his mind hadn't processed what he meant, out of his mouth came the last words you would have wanted to hear in the world.

“You two would make a good couple.”

You snapped out of your head for a moment, almost abruptly. You turned to look at him as if he had a magnet that attracted your gaze and you almost pulled a lung out of your chest from how loudly you snorted at those words. That man had lost his mind.

“What?”

“What?” Sam repeated, his brow furrowing without losing the hint of amusement it caused him to see you so flustered for saying something so mundane. “It's no secret to anyone that you're the person he spends the most time with in the entire Complex. You do a lot of things together, including shopping. Like a couple would. You know what? You already act like a couple even if it's not official.”

“You have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Oh, but I do have an idea. We all have eyes here, Y/N. It's not hard to notice the look in both of our eyes when-”

“All right, that's enough!” you exclaimed, and Sam just shrugged. “I don't want you ever hinting like that again, is that clear?”

And he didn't do it again. But you should have paid more attention when he spoke in the plural. Even though he was the first, he wasn't the only one to express his opinion freely about your friendly relationship with Bucky when you didn't ask for it. It was as if Sam unleashed a horde of unwanted comments about the normal, domestic things you did with Bucky.

It wasn't long before you began to feel uncomfortable when the two of you were in some room in the Complex with some third party who was intruding.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked you once you were in the common room of the Complex.

You remembered turning to look at him in bewilderment as you snapped out of your cloud of thoughts. You saw him sitting next to you, a safe distance away. Like two normal friends. You were telling him a story your mother had told you about your grandmother many years ago when you felt a look on your face. You ignored it at first completely because you were too engrossed in your story and felt you didn't care if anyone else came into the room.

But then you met Clint's eyes. And everything went into a tailspin.

“Yeah. All good,” you shook your head trying to play it down, but you underestimated Bucky's knowledge of you. “Why?”

“You were quiet.”

“For less than ten seconds,” you let out a nervous laugh. In that moment you felt like a pressure cooker, your mind moving anxiously like the lid blowing the air out.

You noticed out of the corner of your eye that Bucky averted his gaze and you turned to look at him to realise that he had focused his attention on the person sitting in one of the far armchairs with a comic book in his hands. He looked so deep in concentration that his presence in the room was barely noticeable.

“Does it bother you that Clint is here?”

“What?” you exclaimed, suddenly a little louder than you should have. “No, of course not, why would it bother me?”

Bucky arched an eyebrow.

“That's what I'm trying to understand.”

His unwavering expression couldn't give you any answer as to what was going through his head. You mentally berated yourself for trying to find out something you didn't want to know, that you shouldn't even be considering.

“Even if it bothered me that Clint was here, why would that be relevant?”

The man next to you raised his eyebrows as if you'd asked the question with the most obvious answer in the world.

“Because you're uncomfortable.”

You frowned.

“Do you care that much that I'm uncomfortable?”

“Yes, because you haven't finished the story. I still don't know what happened to the chicken.”

His words left your mind blank for a few seconds. You didn't know whether to be flattered, because he seemed genuinely interested in what you were telling him, or offended because he seemed to take it only as a method of entertainment. Either way, the important thing was that you had his attention, right?

Oh, no. No, no, no.

You were suddenly annoyed to realise that your thoughts were taking the wrong turn, being fully influenced by the words Sam and the others had let out about your relationship with Bucky. You couldn't allow yourself to drift slowly into a place you didn't want to return to, because you knew well the consequences and side effects. Even though sometimes you felt you were already in that place.

You were fine with the way you were, nothing else mattered. You were fine with the way you were, nothing else mattered. You were fine just with the way you were, nothing else mattered….

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

“You know this is the longest conversation we've ever had?”

Impulsively you changed the topic of conversation. And you knew Bucky had noticed by the way his eyes narrowed and he didn't say anything for a few seconds. You stood in silence, a small staring battle, Bucky trying to make you give in, until he let out an exhausted sigh and averted his gaze.

“It's not the longest conversation.”

“Yes, it is. You talked to me more than five times.”

Bucky let out a short disbelieving laugh, his head jerking in rhythm with the sound coming out of his mouth. You watched him carefully for the duration of the gesture, because it wasn't something that happened very often.

“I'm sure we've had longer conversations.”

“The monosyllables you answer me with at the mall don't count.”

Bucky let out a breath and his lips pressed into a thin line. It was your turn to laugh, genuinely amused. His eyes flickered up to meet yours.

“You give yourself a lot more credit than you should,” you told him after a while, when your laughter had subsided and his expression was more serene.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled. “What happened to the chicken?”

Over time, you learned to manage your awkwardness so that Bucky wouldn't suspect your uncomfortable behaviour and avoid questions you didn't want to answer. Sometimes, you thought you were excellent at hiding what your body wanted to show with its language, and other times you felt that Bucky just didn't bring up the subject to avoid making you even more uncomfortable. But surely he wanted to ask.

So that was the routine you usually had. It wasn't strange for anyone to see you walking around the Complex together or going out together, and it wasn't strange for you to see everyone with knowing smiles as you passed each other.

Even though it was difficult, you felt you coped well. Always ignoring that voice in the back of your head that tried to alert you that something had happened in the feeling system. If you just ignored it, then it was nothing.

Everything was still relatively normal.

Until that damned mission where you decided not to listen to him.

It had been a week since the incident and if Bucky had looked at you at least once when you were in the same place, that was a lot to say.

Sam had tried to ask you several times what had happened on the mission and why Bucky didn't even acknowledge your presence when sometimes you were right next to him, but you were never able to answer him. You didn't want to talk about it when every time you remembered the cold look he'd given you the moment Wanda removed the chunk of concrete that had almost fallen on top of you, only being cushioned by the wall you'd stuck to before it all came crashing down. His light eyes had always felt warm, made you feel welcome to him the moment you wanted to enter, but in that instant his eyes were watching you as if he wanted you to disappear from the face of the earth.

You couldn't bear the memory. Not when you were already used to his presence and his silences; to his short laughs and mumbled answers. Not when you were already starting to feel comfortable with the ideas you were getting in your head despite trying to convince yourself otherwise; that maybe Sam and the others weren't so wrong. That maybe… they might be right.

But they were just that. Ideas. Stupid thoughts that were going around in your head to salve your poor heart.

Ever since you came back from the mission, you knew how unlikely it was that everyone else was right. The only thing they saw between the two of you, that they talked about so much, was your own feelings bouncing off all the walls that Bucky had and that he hadn't dropped at any point like you thought he had. It was only the reflection of your adoration for him in his eyes. There was never really anything about him that gave them to understand that he felt the same way you did about him, it was only the extent of your love that covered him too.

But nothing was ever really reciprocated.

And coming to that conclusion wasn't as difficult as you thought it would be.

Being hopeful wasn't your style. Although you were always cheerful and tried to put your best face to the world, you weren't one to fall easily for the words and actions of others. That's why you kept your relationship with Bucky at bay for so long, because you knew it wasn't possible for him to see you with the love you longed to give him. You were always sure. But then, and you didn't really know how you got to that point, you began to think that, if other people could see it so clearly, then suddenly it might be true. Maybe Bucky could return your feelings and then the world wasn't just black and white.

Wrong.

For a moment you allowed yourself to forget and let your defences down for that little flame of hope, even though you knew you shouldn't have, that you hadn't done it in years for something and it didn't have to be any different this time. You did, and it was a mistake.

“So, what do you say?”

You raised your head to look at Wanda's expectant face. Her raised eyebrows and the way she moved her hands in her lap gave you a hint that she was feeling nervous. She was trying to hide it, but you could also see that she was a little afraid. Her light, barely perceptible voice gave you the feeling that she was afraid of unleashing a storm with her conjectures.

“That it's crazy.”

“It's definitely crazy,” the woman in front of you sighed, her eyes drifting from your figure to her surroundings trying to deal with the weight of the revelations she'd had these past few days.

Your body leaned against the armchair behind you, and you lowered your head until you could look at the book lying on your crossed legs. You looked at the letters and frowned as you tried to understand again what it was all about.

“That could also be just a story.”

“I don't think so,” Wanda mused, then raised her head to look at you. “There's a reason these books are here.”

“Yeah, just like there's a reason for us not to be in here.”

“Then why did you follow me?”

Wanda crossed her arms under her chest, an annoyed expression taking over her face.

“I didn't think you were going to show me something like this,” you admitted, taking the book in your hands and running your eyes over the text and figures once more. “I didn't even think it was possible.”

“I told you my dreams were starting to become more accurate.”

You shook your head in a nod, your mind trying to figure out what that could mean for your friend's future. You knew it was possible that Wanda was doing her best not to see the whole horizon of negative possibilities emerging from that situation, but you were also aware of the weight she must be feeling with all those thoughts running through her head coupled with the likelihood of not having an answer. Your head schemed for a possible solution that might not be welcome.

“Why don't you go talk to Strange?”

Wanda twisted her lips, the reaction you expected.

“I get the impression that the first thing he'd do would be to lock me in his magical dungeon.”

You wanted to contradict her, but it was partly true. You knew Strange to be a man who didn't see nuance in black and white. It was only about good and bad, with no in-between. But you suggested it because he was the only person besides Wanda who knew as much about magic and sorcery as she did, even more thanks to the position he held. His methods were questionable, probably, but the range of his knowledge was something greater than either of you could question.

You closed the book and ran your fingers over the material of its cover, so stiff and dirty that you could barely even try to guess what century it was from.

“Even if what this book says is true, we don't have the original book to confirm it. We don't even know if it exists.”

“The Darkhold is real,” Wanda contradicted you almost immediately, and the certainty in her voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“What, you've seen it in dreams too?”

When Wanda averted her eyes from yours, you had to restrain the urge to hit her over the head with the book you were holding.

“Wanda!”

“I'm sorry!”

You saw her quickly get up from the floor and start walking around the place you had taken over in the library you were in. From the outside, it looked like a small room with a few shelves full of books, but the further you went in, the less it seemed like it would have any end to it. It was one of the largest rooms in the Complex. And, courtesy of Wanda, you now knew that it was the only room with another hidden room that almost ninety-five percent of the Complex staff were barred from entering. You were convinced that only the Director, Maria Hill, Tony Stark and Stephen Strange were allowed in there.

Now, how could Wanda concentrate enough energy to find and open the hidden entrance to that place? A complete mystery to you.

“The Darkhold was the first thing I saw before my dreams started getting weird. It was only a couple of weeks ago.”

“After you dreamt about it, you started having the lucid dreams?”

“Yes, it was very strange,” Wanda shook her head and stopped her feet in front of you, her expression thoughtful as if her mind was conjuring up all her dreams at once. “Sometimes I dream things where I'm sure it's me, that if I looked in a mirror I'd be sure it was me. But other times, I feel like my dream is focused on showing me someone else's memories. Like I'm inside someone else's mind… but that person is me.”

The woman looked at you, her face contracted in confusion and exhaustion.

“Why didn't you tell me this before?”

Wanda sat back down on the floor in front of you, her legs crossed and her elbows resting on her knees. You watched her run her hands over her face repeatedly before answering.

“I didn't want to worry you. I didn't want to worry anyone. At first I had thought this was too crazy for anyone to believe me, but when I came here and found that book I started to fear for myself. I didn't want to get locked up if anyone found out.”

“Don't say that. No one's going to lock you up.”

You threw the book with the stiff cover somewhere on the floor and moved from your spot to approach your friend. You didn't hesitate for a second to wrap her in your arms and squeeze her against your body.

You didn't know how you had gone so many days without noticing the tiredness in her eyes and the dark bags under her eyes. You'd been so wrapped up in your own head that you hadn't even been able to notice when something was eating away at your friend's sanity. Being one of those things… mhm, you know….

“Don't worry. You're not going to go crazy and want to rule the universe. That sounds too surreal.”

“I'd like to know if my dreams are fabrications or visions.”

You turned away from the woman, your brows furrowing at the implication of her words.

“You're not going to become what that book says.”

“But what if…?”

“No, Wanda.”

“What if it's tipping me off?”

“And who's doing it?” you inquired as you sat back on your heels, your gaze focused on your friend's obfuscated expression. “The Darkhold? Some silly alternate version of yourself from another universe? Now that's crazy!”

Wanda turned her head away and her shoulders slumped.

“That would mean my dreams are unexplained. They're just dreams.”

“Maybe that's for the best. Even the multiverse theory hasn't been proven enough for us to conjecture beyond our own reality.”

“Still, isn't it strange?”

“Of course it is. It's just too weird. I just meant that it doesn't mean you're destined to become that bizarre alter ego.”

You saw her press her lips into a line, then nod her head slightly. She didn't really look convinced, and neither were you, to be honest. Of everything she had told you, you couldn't understand half of it, and the other half you could barely believe was true. The magic was a few levels above your understanding of reality and altering it all in a few minutes was proving to be a really complicated job.

Still, seeing her anguished face at the possibility of what her dreams and that book implied, you knew you had to say something to try to calm the thoughts in her head. Even if it was something tiny that couldn't even come close to being true. You couldn't let those evil ideas fill her head and make her think she was some kind of villain when it couldn't be further from the truth.

If that was the future, it wasn't the future of the Wanda in front of you, her gaze lost and her eyes full of fear. Someone who worried like that about what might happen, even if she wasn't completely convinced of it, only thinking of the slightest possibility, couldn't have an ounce of evil in her.

“Maybe you're right-”

“What the fuck are you two doing here?”

You cringed as you heard a new voice join in the room when you hadn't even heard the footsteps of anyone approaching. Least of all from the two people who had just appeared down the same path you and Wanda had come down.

“Uhm…”

Your voice came out shaky, not at the prospect of receiving yet another punishment for being in a forbidden place for the level you were at as an agent, you'd already seen that coming, but because standing next to a very angry Tony Stark was Bucky. And he was staring at you so hard you feared he might punch a hole in your soul.

You felt Wanda's gaze on you. You turned to see her slowly, as if making any sudden movements would upset the bundle of fury in front of you. You could almost see the veins in her forehead pop.

With one glance, you knew that Wanda had no idea that the room had any kind of sensor. Even though it would make sense for it to have one, it would be illogical because it's a door hidden with magic. Normal people wouldn't notice it by looking through matter or something.

Nevertheless, it was magic that was what it was all about. Surely Strange would have some magical failsafe, kind of.

“None of you are going to respond?”

“I believe the situation responds on its own,” Wanda answered him, and Tony's dark eyes settled on her in a matter of seconds.

For a moment you thought his face had faltered, that his expression had slumped, but just as quickly you noticed, just as quickly it was gone.

Then, his gaze wandered across the floor where you stood with a number of books around you, until it settled on the book you had been reading moments before his arrival. You hadn't realised where it had fallen when you threw it when you got up to hug Wanda, but that must have been your lucky day because it was far enough away to make him think that it had only been taken out, but not opened.

Tony moved quickly to take the book in his hands and then gave you a wary look.

“Did you open this?”

As if we were going to say yes.

“No,” you replied quickly, averting your gaze from the frozen man behind Tony.

“Good.”

You watched him tuck the small, stiff book into his jacket before glancing back at the mess of books on the floor.

“Move along. Strange isn't going to be happy.”

The two men moved sideways, clearing the way for you and Wanda to exit the way you came.

Without a second's hesitation, you both got up and started walking in the direction of the exit.

“How the hell did you know where the entrance was?” Tony questioned Wanda once you were all out of the hidden room, and the aforementioned turned around to watch the door slam shut before disappearing.

"I guess I got lucky."

Tony clicked his tongue, but said nothing more. He turned on his heels to begin his walk towards the library exit followed by Bucky who clearly didn't give you a single word other than judging looks.

Wanda nudged you lightly with her body, the previous topic almost completely forgotten, with a half smile on her face. You didn't know if it was good to drop the subject so spontaneously, but you did know that you didn't want her to continue to have those thoughts running through her head.

“You haven't spoken to Bucky?”

“I'm puzzled that the subject is funny to you.”

“I'm not amused,” Wanda tried to rectify, lowering her voice as she saw that the two men in front of her had stopped at the library exit. “But I don't think he's mad at you.”

“Today is your day of the wildest theories I've ever heard, how can he possibly not be mad at me?”

Wanda sighed and watched the back of the aforementioned, who was apparently talking to Steve Rogers.

“You scared us all that day. But Bucky was… terrified. I knew you were alive, and I told him, but he wouldn't believe me until he could see it with his own eyes. He was too scared at the time. And, to be honest, I think that scare made him realise something he doesn't want to accept now. That's probably why he's staying away from you.”

You watched your friend with narrowed eyes, your body turned in her direction.

“Did you get inside his head?”

“Of course not!”

“Because that's wildly accurate, Wanda. How can you conclude something like that just by looking at someone?”

“I've had a week to do it,” the woman waved her hand in the air, downplaying the matter before resuming her walk when the men up ahead finally moved. “And I happen to be very good at reading people's body language.”

“Yeah, right.”

Wanda grunted at your tone of voice.

“I really didn't get inside his head, Y/N. I swore I wouldn't do it again and I'm keeping my word.”

“Alright, let's say I believe you,” you agreed and turned to look at her just as she rolled her eyes at your words. “That's not reason enough to talk to him.”

“And why not?” Wanda raised her voice, quizzical. “I practically gave you the answer.”

“Knowing doesn't make things any easier, woman.”

Wanda let out a whine so loud and exaggerated that several of the people walking past her frowned at her.

“The real answer is to just talk to him. Do you know how many problems are solved a year just by talking?”

You shook your head in denial. “He's avoiding me-”

“And you seem to be okay with that.”

“I'm not.”

“Then why haven't you done anything to change it yet?”

You knew she was right, but to be honest and to no one's surprise, you didn't want to deal with the confrontation and find out that what you always thought and the reason you kept yourself on edge was true. Even though it clearly was. But to have the chance to hear it come from his mouth directly? You were definitely past having that experience. You no longer doubted that his feelings for you were as non-existent as you first thought and that you should never have listened to people's words, giving yourself false hope. You didn't want to face your own mind and the fact that you got into this heart trouble on your own when you had always been so cautious. Weighing the risk of Bucky pushing so far inside your head that you knew the real darkness was reason enough to be a little content with silence.

Talking to him would solve a percentage of the situation, the professional. You would apologise another thousand times for not listening to him during the mission, you would tell him that you would do everything in your power not to react that way again, and that was it. But the other percentage of the situation would not be resolved; the percentage that involves you more than him. Even if you apologise and he accepts your apology, nothing could assure you that things would go back to the way they were before, that you would go back to being attached to each other as you have been since you met.

And that should be good, because you could finally get away from him and get all those feelings off your chest and out of your mind like you should have done in the first place to avoid the eventuality of him suddenly knowing too much about you, but at the same time you didn't want to end something that could have been so good. Even without getting romantic, your friendship with Bucky was one of the things you cherished the most, and you didn't want to make yourself forget it as if it had never happened.

“What is it that scares you?”

“That I was right all along.”

Wanda gave you her reprimanding look and paused to stare at you with that scowl on her face. You inhaled sharply and stopped in front of her, watching her expectantly.

“I'll take Tony,” she blurted out suddenly, not wiping that expression off her face.

“What?”

“I'm taking him and you better hope that when we meet again you have good news.”

“What are you talking about?”

Without answering, Wanda turned her body and walked in the direction of the three men who had stopped once again to talk. Bucky and Tony had their backs to you, but you could see the typical serious expression disappear from Steve's face to give way to surprise the moment Wanda landed in the middle of him and Tony with a big smile.

The woman shared a few words with the stunned blond, before turning to Tony and sending you a fleeting glance over the man's shoulder.

“Don't you think you're keeping Strange waiting too long?”

“How did you know that he-?”

“I didn't. But you already gave me the answer. We'd better go now.”

Following her order, Wanda curled her arm around the arm of a paralyzed Tony and started walking, waving goodbye to the others.

“Bye, Y/N! Don't stand in the middle of the hallway!”

You cringed as the gaze of the people walking past you landed on you, and gritted your teeth as you saw Steve's gaze on you. Without a bit of disguise, Steve ran his gaze over you and then over Bucky and back again as if he was having a short circuit inside his head.

You weren't too far away to notice Bucky's stiff shoulders, and you guessed he was saying goodbye to Steve when the blond turned his gaze to watch him. Seconds later, the black-haired man started to walk the way Wanda had gone with Tony, but Steve stopped him before he took any more steps away from the tense atmosphere.

“Wait,” you heard Steve's voice and flinched as you watched Bucky look down to see the Captain's hand clutch his left arm, then look up and give him a look that you knew would have chilled you from head to toe, but Steve seemed to ignore it as if it was an everyday occurrence. “Actually, since I've got you two in one place, I need to talk to you.”

You watched the blond shake his head pointing to the door next to him then walk in his direction.

You followed them from a distance and closed the door behind you. It was one of the small common rooms around the Complex. You still remembered how surprised you had been when you first arrived to see how many clear work areas they had in that place. Of course, to house and protect the peace of mind of hundreds of workers.

Bucky slumped into one of the green armchairs carelessly and Steve stood on his feet in the middle of the room.

“I spoke to Fury this morning,” the blond began, alternating his gaze between the two of you. “You'll be back on a mission next week.”

You raised your head expecting to see that Steve was referring to Bucky, but no. He was staring at you from his position.

“So soon?”

“What do I have to do with this?”

You and Bucky spoke at the same time, and you couldn't hide the pain that settled in your chest hard as you heard those were the first words you'd heard from him in seven days.

Steve pursed his lips and alternated his gaze again before speaking again.

“Fury agreed to let you go on the mission after a recon team inspects the site in case of possible attacks.”

You nodded slightly. That was a little ugly to hear, too. Just a little.

“You'll go with Clint and Bucky on the mission.”

You were expecting those words to come out of his mouth because there was no other reason to have locked them both in here. What you didn't expect (though you should have) was to see Bucky roll his eyes and drop his head on the back of the couch in the most horrible gesture of disgust and ennui you'd ever seen from him since you'd known him. During this week of being a zero to the left for the aforementioned, you'd noticed that Bucky was very expressive when he wanted someone to realise that they were strongly hated by him.

It wasn't something you wanted to know, really.

“Clint will be the backup so he'll stay inside the Quinjet flying over the structure in case of a possible attack. You and Y/N are going to enter the building and perform the extraction of one person.”

One person? That was new. You could hardly remember the last time you'd had such a mission.

“Why did he pick me?”

“I have no idea, Buck. He just gave me the order to tell you.”

“Who's the person we're supposed to extract?”

“That I don't know,” Steve replied. “Fury was very cautious with the information. Any minute now the report should reach you.”

“And you're busy?” Bucky asked again, his gaze focused solely on the blond standing in front of him.

At the time, you hated what he was doing. You understood that he didn't want to go on that mission with you because he didn't feel comfortable or just didn't want to see you, but it cost him nothing to have a little, just a little compassion enough to not try to get rid of you and that mission right in front of you as if you weren't listening to him.

“Bucky…”

Steve sighed, but the man in front of him didn't soften his expression or make any pretense of taking back his words.

“If you've got a problem with this, you should go talk it over with Fury,” the blond recommended, not answering his question directly, sending him a hard glare before turning to look at you again. “See you later.”

You nodded in his direction and the man quickly left the room.

The silence that followed was deadly.

You watched the man continue to sit in that armchair, his jaw tense, his hands clenched and his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him. He was so still he looked like a statue. It was scary.

You tried to take a tentative step in his direction, but noticing your movement roused him from his trance and he stood up quickly. He let out a sigh and walked out of the room without looking at you.

You felt a kind of courage catch in your throat when you called out to him.

“Bucky.”

“No,” the man replied almost instantly, his body near the door turning violently to stare at you and point his index finger at you. The angry look he gave you made you regret all the decisions in your life that had brought you to that moment. “I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to hear your apology. I don't want anything from you.”

With each word he moved closer to you until you had to start backing away. You were too surprised at how he had exploded just hearing you call out to him. He must have had too much pent up. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to do this at the time.

“If you want to blow off steam, talk to a fucking wall. But don't come near me or try to fix something you broke with your bare hands.”

You felt the air that entered your body freeze your lungs. His piercing eyes and angry expression shattered any willpower you had collected since Steve left the room, but it was the way his voice broke as he was finishing speaking that took the words right out of your mouth.

“You could have simply listened to me and you didn't. That's all. There is nothing you can apologise for because you yourself decided, within your will, that your life mattered nothing compared to the goal of that fucking mission.”

His eyes wouldn't leave yours and you hated the way you felt the prior sting of tears make your vision blurrier each time because you didn't want to miss a single detail of his face. He was so angry, furious, disappointed and... desperate to let you know how you had made him feel.

“And I don't know if you do, but I don't see what excuse is good enough to justify that.”

The thread of tension you felt in the air was choking you and you didn't know what to do to stop the tears from escaping your eyes. You would have expected anything but such an explosion of rage against you. It wasn't normal for Bucky to have such outbursts, and it also seemed that he knew exactly what points to make because you suddenly felt helpless in the way he was exposing his thoughts about you. Which perhaps weren't far from the truth.

“I didn't want to give you an excuse,” you were barely able to reply, at the tense look he was giving you. Your mind was working hard to avoid touching on the subject he was apparently trying to bring up.

“I don't see how that's any better.”

“I just wanted to apologise. I know I was wrong, okay? I think about it every day since we got back and I know I made a mistake. But I didn't throw my life away by just thinking about accomplishing the mission.”

Bucky let out a raw, lazy laugh without a hint of humor. You felt a shiver run through your body and it was unwelcome.

“I bet you didn't even think about the possibility of getting out alive after you heard the first explosion and that didn't matter to you.”

“It wasn't like that!” you replied instantly, raising your voice to match his, your head suddenly panicking.

“You didn't care because you were only thinking about the mission!”

“But how could we come back empty-handed, Bucky!? All that effort and time to be left with nothing!? Wasn't that worse?”

“Of course not! What the fuck makes you think we'd prefer an inconclusive fucking lead on a team member's life?”

“For God's sake, Bucky Barnes!” you roared and turned away from the man, a wave of anger coursing through your body burning away any trace of sadness you might have felt just moments ago. You knew that feeling and it wasn't welcome. You knew this argument wasn't going to end well, but seeing the look on Bucky's face you knew he wasn't just going to walk away if you asked him to.

Even though your mind was focused on avoidance, you tried to prepare yourself for the possibility that you might end up saying things you shouldn't, too.

“And don't give me any fucking shit about how you knew everything was going to be okay because I don't believe you.”

“Well don't believe me,” you exclaimed turning to look at him. “Don't believe anything that comes out of my mouth if that's what you want. That's not going to erase the fact that I do regret not listening to you and risking my life like that.”

“Lies.”

You half-opened your lips, your face contorted in disbelief. It couldn't have been that easy for him…

“I just told you-”

“And less than twenty seconds ago you said how dare I even think about coming back empty-handed, instead of thinking about how I'd come back to tell the rest of the team that you were dead.”

“But I'm not dead.”

Bucky shook his head.

“Now, you're just telling me what I want to hear.”

“No, I'm telling you the truth.”

“You're not telling me anything, Y/N! Are you sorry for what you did? Good for you. But tell me something, would you do it differently if you had another chance?”

“What?”

“If you woke up tomorrow and we were on that mission again, me yelling at you to get out of the building, would you?”

You didn't even have to think twice to know the answer, but saying it out loud was much scarier than just being silent. Silence.

“I thought so.”

Still, even knowing you didn't have the upper hand in that fight, you tried to convince yourself otherwise.

“That doesn't explain anything, Bucky, I don't-”

“Stop lying already. If you really wanted to apologise to me you could have at least had the decency to tell the truth.”

“Fuck,” you muttered, the anger and irritability of your cowardice coming out to take it out on anyone but you. “You're a fucking genius then, aren't you? You know everything.”

“Well, it looks like you're the only one who doesn't.”

“You can't know what was going through my head at the time. You don't know everything!”

“Then fucking tell me: what were you thinking?”

Your mind went blank. And then words. Thoughts. Images. Nothing encouraging, nothing that would help your case. Again, fear came over you and you couldn't respond. You knew you were playing with fire, especially with him. Especially with the man who had learned to see beyond the cheerful, untroubled woman you were always trying to be.

“I was listening to you and I wanted to get out-”

“Then why didn't you?”

You didn't want him to keep pushing because you felt you wouldn't be able to keep running in the opposite direction. The weight of his words was more than the weight of your silence could bear. Silence.

“Now, with what face are you going to tell me you weren't lying?”

I'm sorry.

“This isn't fair.”

“Oh, so you're the one going through an injustice now. Funny.”

Your body felt his words hurt you, and too much, and instinctively your mind and your defence mechanisms leapt to take control of your words, even though you didn't mean to. Even though you knew you shouldn't because someone in that room was right and it wasn't you. Because you couldn't control the way your mind sought to get out and hide from the confrontations that questioned the way you lived. That was why you kept your distance. It was why you had boundaries with Bucky.

Damn the moment when you decided to believe what others said.

“Why does it matter now what happened back then? I'm here now, giving you an apology you don't want to accept just because I wanted to try to save what we had.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows and stood in a state of stupefaction for a few seconds. His eyes twitched and blinked rapidly as if his head didn't believe what he had heard and he mentally replayed it several times.

“What we had? What exactly did we have?”

“A friendship, Bucky! A mutual appreciation. A mutual respect.”

How you dare to talk about respect?

“Having a friendship implies that you worry and care about what the other person feels.”

Bucky watched you expectantly. His furious face gave no room for contradiction and you soon found yourself between a rock and a hard place. This man wasn't going to give up until he got what he wanted, and you didn't know how things would turn out when he did. You didn't speak, waiting for him to continue.

“When you were in that building, did you think about me, besides cursing me a thousand times for not letting you accomplish the mission while I was trying to save your life?”

Silence.

“Did you care, at any point, what would have become of me if you hadn't gotten out of that building?”

“Bucky, but that's not what-”

“Can you just answer…! Answer the fucking question.”

Silence.

“I… there was too much going on in my head at the same time.”

“But you weren't thinking about getting out of there!” he screamed.

“I thought I was a burden!" you screamed back, his hard stare breaking your self-control and you lowered your head. “I thought you always have to take care of me when I go on missions. I thought I don't really contribute anything important to the team. I thought I'd be a failure if I came back empty-handed when I was so close to making it. I thought… I thought nothing else mattered but accomplishing the mission.”

The last you admitted almost with shame. And though you struggled to think otherwise, your own mind accused you of not being strong enough to endure. You had to feel that shame because someone wasn't really supposed to know, not even for the fact that you had just admitted to him that you had crudely lied to him by excusing yourself behind a false apology, but because that was something that wasn't supposed to leave your head. Because they would always leave, they would abandon you, they wouldn't look back twice. And you were expectantly torn to see the moment when that would happen.

Bucky was just watching you. When you looked up to see him, you noticed that his angry expression had softened just a little. His gaze hovered over your figure for a few seconds until he let out a sigh.

“You've got a lot to work on, Y/N.”

And he left the room. You didn't try or think to stop him for a second. The stark truth of what you had said echoed off the walls and came back at you with such force that you feared it would tear you to pieces. But you did nothing about it. You let it come back because you didn't have the strength to move, you didn't have the strength to do more.

When you let your knees give way under the weight of your body, you curled up next to the couch and cried. You cried as if having said that to Bucky, finally getting those thoughts you tried every day to suppress out, had activated a little reason in your mind. As if, suddenly, you could no longer pretend that everything was all right and try to hide things behind a smile and a story.

You couldn't live your whole life believing that you could live behind a charade, after all.

#bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #james barnes #winter soldier #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky x female reader #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x you #avengers #marvel #the outbreak

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yeollie-plz · 5 months

Text

Fix Me

Preoutbreak! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Synopsis: Joel fixes stuff around your house, until Joel fixes you.

Genre: fluff, angst, smut

Warnings: Age gap (reader is mid twenties, Joel is mid thirties), kissing, crying, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of trauma, oral f! receiving, 18+ smut, porn with plot, slow burn? (ok not really but), reader is a hot mess!, insecurities, unprotected sex (don't be like them!), spanking, masturbation

Gif credits to owners!

The first time you met Joel was about a week after you moved in. Your house was directly across from his and for that week you would see him here and there. You had to admit you found him a bit attractive. You eventually wanted to go around the neighborhood and introduce yourself, instead he surprised you by coming knocking at your door.

Having just finished showering you weren't really prepared for visitors, wearing only a robe and your hair wet and stringy draped on your shoulders. So when the heavy knock rang on your door, you sighed, glancing down at your appearance. You debated if you could just ignore the knock, until another sounded.

Rolling your eyes, you decided there was no other choice but to answer. You swung the door open a bit too aggressively, finally looking at who was standing there. It was the neighbor that you had all but stalked this past week. Okay, you found him very attractive!

You blushed at your actions, seeing that his eyes widened at them as well. It seemed as though your neighbor also noticed your disheveled state, his eyes scanning over your figure. His held at your chest for a second longer before he met your eyes.

"Sorry, I'm Joel, I live across the way there." He motioned towards his place. "I just noticed that there was a hole in your porch and well I'm a contractor so..." He trailed off.

"Okay?" You said trying to urge him to get to his point so you could get back into your house. No matter how cute your neighbor was, he was not worth standing basically naked in your doorway for.

"I...um...thought maybe I could fix it for ya. I can just get it done quickly now. No charge, if I'm honest I've wanted to fix it for a while now."

"So, you came all the way over here to fix my porch?" You tilted your head in confusion. He nodded.

"I guess I have. So, darlin', do ya mind?" You tried to ignore the term of endearment and shook your head.

"I mean sure, that's fine...I guess." You whispered the last part, trying not to come off too taken aback. "I'm going to go look more presentable, you can go ahead and start." You motioned at your robe and Joel's eyes lingered once more.

You ignored it and stepped inside, closing the door behind you. You quickly sorted out your appearance. Before returning outside you stopped in your kitchen grabbing a cup and filling it with ice and water for Joel.

You silently opened your front door so you watch Joel work for a minute. You had found Joel attractive the moment you laid eyes on him, but something about watching the man work. The bead of sweat that rolled down the side of his face as he concentrated on fitting a board into the hole. The bit of skin that showed at the hem of his shirt as he reached further to grab a tool. You shook your head ignoring the growing heat between your thighs and cleared your throat. Joel's head snapped up to you, whipping his brow as he stood.

"I brought you some water, its a bit hot today." You handed him the cup. He took it was a nod of appreciation.

"I'm Y/N by the way. I never introduced myself earlier."

"Nice to meet you darlin'. I've been waiting to finally learn your name." You tried to hide your shock at his statement. He chuckled and sat the cup on the little table you had there.

"I'm 'bout done here. You can go ahead and cool off inside. I'll clean this up. Let me know if you need anything else fixed, you know where I live." He said. You could've sworn you saw his eyes drop to your lips at the mention of fixing something else. No, that can't be, you decided. You had just met the man!

"Uh, sure. Thanks Joel." He winked at you and went back to his project, leaving you not only confused but also a bit hot and bothered.

The weeks that followed, part of you wanted something to break so that you could talk to Joel again. You would see him go to work and come back, but you had no reason to really approach him. Some days you would sit out on your porch and watch him leave. His eyes would lock onto yours. This would earn you a smirk and small wave. To which you blushed and waved back.

One evening you got as bold as to check your mail around the time that he would be home. Lingering by your mailbox until you saw the familiar truck pull down the street into his driveway. That day he called out your name with a hello and you didn't stop thinking about it all night long.

You couldn't believe the way you were behaving. You barely knew Joel and yet you were entranced by him. He was almost your every waking thought. There was something in that manifesting though, as one morning you were making breakfast and a cabinet door came off one of its hinges.

You almost shrieked in excitement as you left the door hanging there. Later that night, you saw Joel's car pull up once more. You grabbed the plate of cookies you had made earlier and made your way across the street. This time you knocked on Joel's door. He answered with a surprised look on his face.

"Y/N?"

"Joel, hi! Um I wasn't sure how serious your offer to fix things was but my cabinet came off its hinges earlier and I don't have the correct screw so...I brought cookies." You held out the plate to him after your rant.

He laughed, "It was serious. Uh, I can come over Sunday to do it? It's been a long day." He rubbed the back of neck awkwardly.

"Oh! Of course! No problem at all!" Calm down, Y/N, calm down.

Another chuckle, as he finally took the plate of cookies from your hands.

"Thank you for these. Sarah will love 'em."

"Sarah? Your..." Your stomach twisted, did he have a wife? You had never seen a woman around.

"My daughter, chocolate chip is her favorite." Relief washed over you.

"Well, I hope you both enjoy them! My grandma's recipe, they are amazing, totally not biased!" He laughed and leaned against his door frame to take you in. A look of content on his face. Almost like he was weighing his options.

Fire sparked through your body and met between your legs at the look. Clearing your throat you spoke quickly, "So, I'll see you Sunday then! Have a good week, Joel!" You rushed back across the street just barely hearing his "You too!" being called out behind you.

Sunday couldn't come soon enough. In the days between then and now you had been very very frustrated. Yes, sexually frustrated. Something about the way Joel looked at you went straight to your panties. He was very easy to fantasize about.

You fantasized about him coming over, the full intention of fixing the cabinet, but nailing you instead. Digging his fingers into your hips as he lifted you onto the counter, teeth nipping at your neck. He would drop to his knees, dragging your panties down with him.

You fantasized about pulling him by his collar into your bedroom, lips connected the entire time. Passion radiating off the two of you as you pushed him onto your bed. You swung your legs over his hips, straddling him. As you continued to crash your lips into his, grinding onto his hardening member. The feeling of his jeans through your thin panties, driving you insane.

You fantasized about taking a shower together. You fantasized about him taking you on the dining table. You fantasized about him taking you on that very porch you met, for all of the neighborhood to see. God, you fantasized about him fucking you anywhere and everywhere.

It was becoming a problem.

How were you supposed to face him when your toys had gotten the most use they ever had at the expense of him? You were fucked. Royally, officially, in every way.

So, when Joel finally did come over on Sunday the only thing that ran through your mind was an image of him inside of you. Which was causing a few attention issues on your part.

"Y/N?" He called through your daydream. He was leaning on your kitchen counter staring at you with his head cocked in amusement. You dragged your eyes down him muscular arm, following the veins to his hand. Your breath caught as you pictured him eating you out there, those fingers pumping in and out of you.

"You feelin' alright, sugar?" His amusement was now changed to light concern as you still weren't responding. Goosebumps rose on your skin.

You blinked and shook your head, attempting to wash the images out of your head. Shifting your weight, you pulled at your collar, suddenly feeling too hot.

"I-yeah, I'm fine. It was just a long week." The first excuse you could think of, yet it was sort of true. A long week of touching yourself to the man that was now standing in front of you.

"I hear that! Well I'm done here so I'll just head out and let ya relax." He smiles and pushes himself off the counter, collecting the last few of his things.

He had almost made it to the door when you called out his name, stopping him in his tracks. You weren't sure what had possessed you in the moment to give you this confidence.

"Can I, uh, ask you a question?"

"Sure, sugar." He smiled at you once again.

"Are you dating anyone?" His smile stayed but something different flashed behind his eyes.

"No, I'm not. What made you curious?" He was trying to read you now. He had that look on his face again like he was debating closing the distance between the two of you.

"Darlin'?" The question came when you didn't answer, he took a step towards you.

"No reason, really! I just..." You searched his eyes like he would give you an out.

A laugh, "Well if you do find a reason, let me know." And with that he left, leaving you cursing yourself in your living room.

Spring came with the next month. And with spring came the thunderstorms. You had never been a huge fan of them, something about the booming sounds and sharp sparks of light always made your skin crawl. Your therapist was convinced there was a deeper reason behind the trauma but you hadn't been able to uncover it yet. All you knew was with thunderstorms came panic attacks and sleepless nights.

You would get up later in the morning, missing the opportunity to watch Joel get to work. And you were too busy bundled into a cocoon hiding from the storms at night to watch him return. Although you didn't know it, Joel was missing seeing you. So like a few nights before this he was watching your house, trying to catch a glimpse of you.

He had been jolted awake by a particularly loud crash of thunder, and after tossing and turning for a bit, he sighed and got out of bed. Originally going downstairs to grab a glass of water his eyes caught on your house when he noticed your bedroom light still on. Joel glanced at the clock on the wall. 2:45? What were you still doing up?

Watching your window for a minute, to see if you would switch the light out. That's when a big strike of lightening struck, knocking out all the power of the neighborhood. Joel rushed to his front door, not even bothering to put on some shoes and ran across the street to your house. He wasn't even sure why he was doing it but his body moved as if being controlled by someone else.

He got to your door, out of breath and soaked. That's when another bolt struck, the thunder following closely after it. But over all that he heard your scream. Without a second thought he turned the handle of your front door, finding it not locked.

Joel rushed through your house to your bedroom, following the sounds of your sobs. Opening the door without a second thought. You glanced up quickly, letting out another scream.

Joel held his hands up, "Sorry! I heard a scream and instinct kicked in. Your door was unlocked. I just...wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Joel." You whispered his name. Tears slid down your cheeks.

"Doll." He whispered back, testing the waters.

"I'm fine, just thunderstorms aren't my favorite thing in the world."

His eyes searched your own. "I can stay and talk with you if you need. That usually helps me."

You smiled, "Sure, that would be nice."

He walked towards the bed, about to sit on the edge of it when you stopped him.

"Wait! You're soaking wet, let me run you a bath!" You pushed yourself out of your cocoon and moved towards the bathroom. A hand around your wrist stopped you. It sent a spark through your body.

"Hate to break it to you, Sugar, but no power means no hot water. I should be the one drawing a bath for you anyways." His grip was light, like he was scared to hurt you. He noticed you looking at it and let go. "Sorry."

You shook your head, "You'll get sick all wet. Let me at least get you a change of clothes." Returning soon after with a stack of clothes.

"Here these are my dad's, should fit. There's towels in the closet if you need it." Handing them to him, you shrugged.

"Your dad's?" He took them with a bit of reluctance, insecurity washing over him.

"Mhm." You nodded, not noticing his change in demeanor and sat back on the bed. Eyes watching as he went into the bathroom and closed the door.

You looked up when he came back out, "How did it go?"

"It was a bit difficult in the dark but I managed." He stop there nervously, something still brewing in his mind.

You patted the bed next to you, silently telling him what you wanted. He took the hint and settled in close to you, but not touching. Sitting there in silence for a few minutes.

"I thought was were supposed to talk." You finally spoke up, intending for it to come off as a joke.

"You're right, sorry I just got in my head for a minute there."

You shifted your body closer to his, finally feeling his body heat radiating onto your own. It sent a shiver down your spine.

"Cold?" He asked. You shook your head no.

"Nope-" you cleared your throat, "-what were you in your head about?" An awkward silence washed over you as if he was debating telling you the truth.

Finally he sighed, "It was you giving me your dad's clothes."

"My dad's clothes?"

"Yeah, it just made me remember how much older I am than you."

It took you a second but you laughed. He gave you a sideways look. The look made you stop and blush at your inappropriate reaction.

"Sorry, but its a little funny. Its only like an eight year difference!"

"Nine." He corrected.

"Fine, nine. One year doesn't change that it isn't a big gap. The heart wants what it wants, isn't that the saying?" You hadn't realized what you said until it had slipped past your lips. "Uh-I mean..."

That's when Joel's lips crashed into yours, his hands fumbling around the sheets trying to find purchase of your hips. Your own finding their way around the back of his neck. His cold fingers made contact with your warm skin, causing a gasp to escape your lips. He took this opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth, taking control. Your fingers played with the hairs on the back of his neck.

Your lips moved in synch for a while, just feeling each other. The sexual tension that had been building for the past months finally coming to the surface.

"Do you want this?" He asked as he pulled away to trail his kisses down your neck. You nodded aggressively.

"Words, darlin'."

"I want this. I want all of you Joel." It came out breathlessly, you were barely able to find your voice.

He smirks into your neck, "Dirty girl."

At the name, you let out a whimper. His lips return to your own as he grinds his hips down. You feel his hard member graze your clit and you jerk up to meet his hips. You need him.

"'m not gonna last long, darlin'. I've been wanting to fuck you for weeks."

"Me too." You confirmed, blushing at his confession.

"Yeah? You been touching yourself to the thought of me?"

You nod.

"Show me." Normally this request would make you nervous, but something about the way Joel looks at you gives you confidence. And if this gets him to touch you then you'll do anything.

He backs off the bed to give you room. He towers over you now, watching you with hungry eyes. You pull your shirt over you head slowly. You want to give him a show. You stand now, pushing your pants and underwear down with a sway of your hips.

Turning around, you bend down to get your feet out of your pants, shoving your ass into Joel's crotch. He growls, actually growls at the action and lands a hand on your ass. Not enough to leave a mark or cause any real pain, but enough for you to lose your balance and fall onto your stomach onto the bed. His body now covers your own as he pulls your earlobe with his teeth.

"You gonna be a good girl for me or am I gonna have to punish you?" The whisper is so gruff that it almost doesn't sound like him but goddamn does it turn you on.

"Mm, I'll be a good girl."

"Good, now show me how you touch yourself." He lifts his body off of yours and you flip over. Running your hands down the swell of your breasts, letting them linger slightly at your nipples, toying with them. Joel watches intently. You move them down your stomach and finally to your soaked lips.

Your index finger slides easily with the amount of slick you produced during your make out session. If you're being honest most of it is probably from when he whispered in your ear just now but!

You toy with your clit for a second, letting a moan push past your lips at finally receiving what you really need. You let your fingers tease your lips before pushing one inside yourself. The stretch being exactly what you need. Actually, exactly what you need is standing there palming his erection.

"Joel, need you." You moan out as you add another finger inside yourself. This is all he needs to pounce onto you once again and replace your fingers with his own. Now fucking you with his two digits, the stretch being so much more delicious than your own. He reconnects your lips.

"Baby, I need to be inside you now." He admits.

"Please." You are almost begging now. He pulls his shirt over his head quickly. Rising to his feet he undoes his pants and pulls them down. Leaning over you again, he kisses you, rubbing himself onto your wet core.

"Do you have a condom, sugar?" You shake your head no. "Fuck."

"It's okay, I'm clean and on birth control."

"I'm clean too. Are you sure?" His previous dominant attitude is now replaced with concern.

"Yes, I'm sure, I just need you now." He takes your word for it and pushes into you in one swift motion. Usually your wetness as to easily push in. He stretches you out completely, causing you to grab his bicep in a search for support.

"You okay?" He askes.

"Yeah, just need a moment. You're bigger than my toys." You give yourself a minute to adjust to his size. You feel your walls contract onto his member, your body wanting him to move. "Okay, I'm ready. Ruin me."

"With pleasure." And he does just that. He fucks you at a speed that almost feels inhuman. His hips meet yours roughly, sliding his cock almost fully to the tip and then bottoming out inside of you. Part of you thinks you'll have bruises tomorrow from how roughly he is thrusting into you, but honestly it will be worth it. Especially with how good you are feeling right now.

His pace falters a bit when you clench around him, "Fuck." He mutters. Regaining his pace quickly. "Told ya I'm not gonna last. Need to make you cum, baby."

You moan at his words and clench onto him once again, earning a slap to you thigh. His hand reaching up and fondling your breast, quirking the nipple with two fingers, causing your hips to jerk up meeting his trusts.

"Come on, baby, I know you're close." Those fingers now make their way down to your clit, working it in circles. You moan at the feeling, feeling yourself getting closer and closer.

With one particularly hard thrust, he hits that spot inside of you. The mixture of that with him toying with your clit causes the coil to snap inside of you and your body warms in your orgasm. Shuddering your hips move involuntarily as he fucks you through your orgasm. Only letting go of your clit with he decides you have had enough.

"There it is." He kisses you and begins to chase his own orgasm. "Where do you want me?"

Inside of responding you open your mouth and stick you tongue out. His eyes go even darker as he speeds his hips up. Joel gets himself to the edge before pulling out of you. You quickly sit up and wait for his cum. He grunts and shoots all of himself down your throat. You swallow dutifully.

He smirks, "Pretty girl. Don't let any go to waste." He runs his thumb across a bead of his spend on the corner of your mouth pushing it inside. You lick all around his thumb, sucking lightly.

"Fuck, darlin', you're gonna get me started again."

"Maybe I want you to." You look at him with hooded eyes, smirking.

"You're in for it now." He grabs your hips and pushes you down onto the bed, attacking your mouth with his own.

You didn't sleep that night either.

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