#1:07am

[the-fuck-is-this-shit]

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#220518 #1:07am

[likelyslumbering]

.

#follow-up to my previous post do you think buying myself one or perhaps even two little treats will fix me #seems like a compelling theory to look into rn at 1:07am #personal

[williamssgirl]

❀*ੈ˖°.𖥔 ݁ casual (part ii)

you can read part one here!

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: you haven't spoken to ellie in a week, 9 missed calls and 38 texts from her, none of which you've answered, but ellie doesn't give up so easily.

warnings: smut, mdni, intimate sex, the knee thing (e!receiving), shower sex, fingering (r!receiving), switch!ellie and reader, multiple orgasms, nipple play/sucking, fluffy, reader lives in an apartment, ellie is very apologetic, barley proofread & semi-rushed and i think thats it. lmk if not.

wc: 2.9k

a/n: this was meant to be like 1.6k words so idk how we got to 35 words away from 3k but... enjoy! dt: @satellitespinner

don't buy tlou | free palestine

(1:02am) ellie

please let me explain

(1:06am) ellie

cmon please i promise it'll be worth your while

(1:07am) ellie

i have your bra among other things. let me know when you'd like me to drop them off. i'm sorry.

(1:09am) you

guess who texted again

(1:09am) olive

no way

r u gonna reply?

(1:10am) you

absolutely not

i made a fool of myself

(1:11am) olive

maybe and JUST MAYBE

reply to her and get ur closure + super sexy bra back

(1:12am) you

what the fuck olive

do you want me to die? genuine question

(1:12am) olive

LISTEN

it might help

plus she seems genuinely apologetic

why is she even apologising?

(1:14am) you

for being a dick and wanting a quick hookup?

(1:14am) olive

because she has feelings and she knows she fucked up?

(1:15am) you

😐 bye

(1:15am) olive

just reply! say sometime tmrw. it can be easy, a quick in nd out

okay?

(1:16am) you

i'll think about it

(2:03am) you

11:30, you get two minutes

(2:03am) ellie

thank you so much

(2:03am) ellie

i'll be there

nine hours later, and ellie was a mess.

you had given her permission to come over and return your bra – hell you had her jumping for fucking joy when she saw that message.

but now she had to actually talk to you, and what the hell was she supposed to say? that she was sorry? that she 'couldn't sort out her feelings?' all of which felt wrong (maybe they only felt wrong because she was staring at herself in the mirror while repeating them for three hours... who knows).

but ellie had found herself with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand and a plan.

a plan to win you back.

she was going to apologize, let you scream at her, and hopefully let her explain, all in the two minutes you had gratefully gifted her.

so, when she rang the doorbell to your apartment after hiking the six story stairs, she found herself staring at her old, beaten up converse. stars and hearts you had drawn all along the sides of the soles almost mocked her.

then you opened the door, and ellie couldn't look up.

useless apologies started spilling from her mouth, panicked words that meant nothing. a collection of "i'm sorry” s and a series of "please let me explain" came pouring out, that was until she grew the gall to look up at you and take you in.

her heart stopped when she did, so did her words.

you looked tired. clearly old yet comfortable clothes adorned your body, you had your arms over your stomach but they weren't crossed, you weren't mad, you could never be mad at ellie, no matter how badly you wanted to be especially in this moment.

words rushed through her head but never made it out her mouth, you were... exhausted. and she caused it, she caused all this pain you were going through. 

“oh…” she softly whispered, her stance faltering at the sight of you, not because you looked like how you did but because she was so mad at herself.

you sigh, you had made no effort to adjust your appearance or put makeup on. you told yourself it was because you had no energy to, but in reality, you wanted to show ellie how you were hurting, that she had caused this, that something fun and sweet had gone sour and at your own expense. 

“ellie, i know i look….” you remove your arms from your stomach and signal to yourself shamefully, tears almost springing from your sunken eyes at the regret you feel for not even trying to fix yourself up, “ but can i please just have my bra back?” you’ve changed your position once again so that you’re leaning up against the doorframe of your apartment, gray sleeves up by your knuckles. 

“no! no no no not at all you look… pretty. really pretty.” she breathes out hurriedly, your cheeks heat up before you spot the bouquet, and that's what makes the tears spill. because why was she here? she had never described you as pretty before, only hot or sexy, so why is she here apologising and calling you pretty if she doesnt just want a quick fuck by validating you? 

tears now evidently filled your eyes, ellie’s kind smile had now turned into one of worry and concern when she saw the tears threatening to spill from your tired eyes, moving forward to embrace you, but she hesitated. will it only make things worse for you? feeling her again? 

“can- can i touch you?” she asks gently, nerves shaking at the chance of you pushing her away for good, telling her she can keep the bra and slamming the door shut in her face. 

instead, you silently shake your head yes and grant her permission to embrace you, it was a stupid idea, really, because everything you felt, all the times she had touched you that you had so desperately been trying to shut out came flooding back and it took everything in you not to sob, the subtle stream of tears gliding down your cheeks was worse enough. you avoided her sorrowful eyes, you didn't want her to feel sorry for you, you just wanted her. 

ellie lets go of you, she’s still standing at the doorway, converse planted firmly on your ‘welcome!’ doormat, she delicately reaches to hold your cheeks and force your wandering eyes to look into her own, staring for a second, memorizing your face just in case before looping an arm around your shoulders and guiding you inside, closing the door behind the two of you with her foot, not looking back once. 

you can feel the flowers gently brush against your shoulder as she never put them in her other hand, but the feeling of them is oddly comforting. you're not sure why exactly it’s comforting, but you do however manage to notice they're your favorite. 

ellie guides you over to a kitchen counter, sitting you up on it and standing right in between your open spread legs, placing the array of flowers opposite to the two of you. you bury your head in your hands, wanting to disappear from this moment and never return. 

“hey…” she gently prys your hands away from your head, and you immediately look up to contain tears, trying your hardest nor to hit the cabinets. “i'm sorry for just welcoming myself in, i assumed you didn't want the neighbors to see you…” the auburn haired girl uneasily babbles, and the tears slow down. you sniffle, looking down at the girl who can’t seem to slow her fast paced talking, and you're not sure how to quiet her down other than placing a hand over her mouth. 

instantly, the talking stops as she looks up at you confused, you sniffle once more and she grabs your hand again to remove it from her mouth 

“you were talking a lot,” you whisper “its okay that you came in, ellie.” your voice is silky, addicting. 

“i just-” she sighs, anxiously tapping the space outside your thighs and staring at her own hands “i don’t know how i can express just how sorry i am, i fucked up. Bad. and your hurting because of it” she spills, shes not even sure if it made sense as it left her mouth, but it’s honest. 

“ellie… it was always more than just a casual thing to me,” you admit, voice getting shallower by the second “and i mean, i don’t know, i always just assumed if i kept saying i was fine with it you would realize that i was who you wanted, but now i know it isn’t true.” ellie’s face drops upon hearing your words, alarms blare in her head because of course it was never just casual to her as well, she’s not even sure why she suggested it in the first place or kept reinforcing it when she wanted everything but that. 

“i know,” she starts off with, you look down sadly, this was confirmation she didn't want to see you anymore, that you getting attached had ruined everything and there was no saving whatever you two had. “but,” she continues, you look up at her again, confused. “It was never just casual to me as well, you know? i’m not even sure why i suggested it in the first place.” she lets out a brief chuckle at the last part in hopes of clearing some of the tension around you guys. 

“but you-” 

“i know i always reminded you, i think it was because i was scared? i was so… infatuated with you and i guess i didn’t want to hurt you. i thought it was the only way.” she remorsefully confesses, and you smile, roles reversed as you gracefully grab her face and kiss her. a kiss that says everything. 

it's soft, gentle, show’s no urgency or panic. it’s natural, and ellie can feel you smiling into it, as is she. 

gently, she moves away and starts kissing down your neck, you lock your hands into her auburn and let out a sigh of content. 

“ellie…” you needily whisper. 

“yeah, baby?” she removes her mouth from your neck, grabbing your thighs and looking into your eyes. “this okay?”

“more than okay,” you confirm, “do you wanna shower with me?” your request is simple, but it makes ellie’s heart explode with excitement as she lifts you off the counter and begins to carry you over to the very familiar shower, the short walk is full of quick kisses and giggles bouncing off the walls when you finally arrive and she nearly stumbles over her own feet. 

you're quick to discard your own clothes, the anticipation building to feel ellie’s skin on your own, the girls anticipation matching yours as she hastily removes her own clothing. Flowers and bra forgotten in the kitchen when she pulls your body into the shower with her, capturing you into a needy kiss once more. she reaches behind you to turn the water on, not accounting for the fact it'll take a minute to warm up and allowing the freezing stream to harshly hit your back. you yelp, moving away quickly in shock, hearing ellie’s restrained snort from behind you. turning to face her, you slap her bicep playfully when the water begins to feel warmer 

“ellie!” you playfully scold, “that wasn't funny!” you’re trying to be serious, key word: trying, but you cant help to let your own laugh slip past your mouth as you join her in the fun. 

“‘m sorry!” she giggles, the laughter between you two dying down “i didn't think it would be that cold!” 

“yeah, well, obviously!” you attempt to splash her with the little bit of remaining cold water on your hands, but you're not quick enough. she pins your hands above your head against the wall adjacent to the stream of water, the glass becoming foggy with steam from the nearly boiling water. 

silence falls in between the two of you. no words are spoken as you move forwards wanting a kiss from the girl, but she moves back. deja vu spikes within you from that night at the bar, days before everything went down. 

she closes her eyes, leaning closer and pressing her forehead up against yours. You repeat the action, you weren't sure what she was doing, but you trusted her. 

“let’s take this slow, okay?” she utters softly, just loud enough so you could hear her over the sound of water pouring, you nod instantly. slow was good. slow meant effort.

with your agreement, she locks your lips into a kiss once again. it wasn't hasty or rough, it was soothing and steady, releasing your arms in order for her to move her own to rest on your hips, your own reaching towards her neck. 

the kiss continuous for a couple minutes, only letting go for a couple seconds at a time to catch your breaths before falling back into each other peacefully, but you were getting wetter and wetter, desperate for more than just kitten kisses on your neck, and you could tell ellie was getting wet too with her movements becoming more and more desperate and rough. 

discreetly, you slot your knee in between her legs while she's occupied with your neck. Almost immediately you can feel the grip she has on your hips become tighter, fingernails digging into the flesh as you slowly begin to move your knee, she groans, dropping her head into your shoulder, moving her hips to match the rhythm with your knee. 

“faster, please” she whimpers in your neck, busying herself again by leaving wet open mouthed kisses on your neck once more. who were you to deny such a pretty girl's request? you speed up the movement of your knee, nudging it up every now and again, removing a hand from her neck to reach down and slowly rub her clit. 

from the way she sucked harder on that spot just below your ear she knew you loved, you assumed the sensation was taken well, your own wetness starting to drip down your thighs, mixing with the water from the muffled noises she was making alone. eventually, the stimulation caught up to her, legs becoming shaky, speeding up your movements and circling her clit, forcefully removing her mouth from your neck so you could bring your head down and suck on her left nipple, and that was her tipping point. 

ellie came undone on your leg with a strangled shout of your name, legs shaking and thighs hurting as you slowed down the circles on her now sensitive nub before eventually stopping, removing the knee slotted between her legs as well as your mouth from her tit. 

“you okay?” you whisper, giving her a couple seconds to come down from her high, the water providing a warm comfort over the two of you. 

“yeah,” she breathes, coming up to give you a kiss on the lips, again, and again, making a wet noise each time, only further fueling your need for her. “more than okay, thank you.”

you smile at her, happy that she was satisfied with your work. you clench your thighs together in hopes to relieve some of the tension that had built up in your core, a move that did not go unnoticed by the dripping girl in front of you. 

“but now i think i need to take care of you, hm? would you like that?” you quickly nod your head yes, anxious to feel her touch on you once more. 

she doesn't wait to get to work on your body, lips going down to suck one of your boobs while her hand moves to roll the sensitive bud in between her fingers, almost instantly eliciting a moan from you.

quietly, she moves her hand that was previously rolling your nipple down your wet body to your core. you open your legs, she keeps her mouth on your boob, but teasing your folds as she ran her fingers through them and pinching your clit ever so slightly, causing you to squel. 

“ellie.. please…” you almost beg, desperate to feel her skilled fingers inside you already.

she presses her palm flat against your clit, ignoring your begs but making you jerk back into the ceramic wall as a small whimper falls from your mouth, ellie smirks knowing just how much of an effect she had on you. she wasn't leaving you ever again. 

lazily, she slips her middle finger into your hole, removing her mouth from your tit. the shower and your own slick providing enough lube that she didn't even have to prod at it. 

“jesus babe… you're so tight” you clench around her finger at these words, and she mindlessly adds a second one. your hands move from her neck to the steaming glass beside you, indenting your handprint through the fog as you lose control over your own body's movements. 

gradually, she begins pumping her fingers in and out of your sopping cunt, lewd and shameless moans leaving your mouth at an uncontrollable pace. she moves her thumb to your clit, pushing into it and causing as much pressure as possible, and it's not long before you cum with a yell of her name, babbling nonsense as she guides you through it. head in her neck as is hers in yours. 

“‘m so sorry” ellie continuously repeats as her fingers still work at a relentless pace inside you “i'm so so sorry, ill never do that to you again.” she moves up and bites your earlobe, continuing to pilot you through your orgasm before halting her movements completely and removing herself from your body. 

you lean back against the wall, eyes closed in content as you feel the droplets of water hit your skin, your water bill is gonna be so fucking high this month, all ellie does it look at you. admiring you in this post fucked out state. you reach your hand out, a silent request for her to take it and she does, right after turning off the stream for you. 

“that was… amazing.” you breathe out happily, she beams at the peaceful look on your face as you peel your eyes open, ellie's smile making you crack your own. 

“i'm glad,” she kisses you once more, the two of you smiling into it. 

“we’re okay?” she asks 

“we’re okay.” you confirm, and ellie has never been happier 

“how about we continue this in the bedroom?” ellie suggests, and you grab her instantly to lead her out. 

people who asked to be tagged: @a-little-bit-of-everybody ! @lmaoo-spiderman @macaroni676 @p4ison1vy @fatbootymuncher @elliessweetheart

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[skrubu]

Reptilish #stain #pavement #helsinki #finland https://instagr.am/p/Cfqd2mbNt_c/

#July 06 #2022 at 11:07AM #<iframe src="https://scontent-iad3-1.cdninstagram.com/v/t51.29350-15/29186

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Mostly Cloudy

📈最高気温: 26度 📉最低気温: 19度 💦湿度: 71% 💥UV指数: 1 😷花粉: 💨風速: North 6 Kph 🌅日出: June 1, 2022 at 04:28AM 🌇日入: June 1, 2022 at 06:51PM 📅June 1, 2022 at 06:07AM

#天気 #June 1 #2022 at 06:07AM

[asdfghjklmals]

MORNING ROUTINE✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. suggestive joke. WORD COUNT: 0.9k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc. boyfriend!gojo, established couple.

SYNOPSIS: satoru gojo's morning routine is waking up next to oc gojo girlfriend and making her coffee before he leaves for work. AUTHOR'S NOTE: thanks for the love on my last two posts. here's the start to satoru's day with oc gojo girlfriend. 🥹 counting from 1-5 while pouring my coffee creamer is something i actually really do, so i thought it would be cute to add in. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

your boyfriend’s morning alarm started to ring. you furrowed your eyebrows as satoru sighed himself awake. he had his left arm behind his head and his right arm around your shoulders. you removed your hand that rested on his chest to rub the sleepiness from your eyes. satoru stretched his long legs and arms. although you shared a king sized bed, it sure didn’t feel like one with how tall satoru was.

“morning babe,” satoru whispered softly in your hair.

you smelled like your orange hibiscus shampoo from your freshly washed hair last night. he sat up on his side of the bed. he didn’t dare open the blackout curtains in your bedroom, he knew you hated that.

two things that weren’t allowed in the early morning routine: stealing blankets and opening the blackout curtains until you woke up for the day. luckily for you, you didn't have to go to work at jujutsu high until later in the day unlike your boyfriend.

you watched him sleepily make his way to the bathroom. the light from the bathroom crept into your bedroom as he didn't shut the door all the way. you curled up in the duvet covers, his warmth still there between the sheets as you stole the duvet completely to your side. you could see his soft smile as he turned on the bathroom faucet to brush his teeth and wash his face. you had told him many times that lukewarm water was the best way to wash your face so that your skin wouldn’t got into shock. before he met you, he was always washing his face with cold water to “wake up”. there were a lot of little things he learned to do after he met you.

you reached your arm out, feeling around the glass nightstand to grab your phone. 6:07am. you plopped your phone down on his side of the bed and closed your eyes until you heard satoru shuffle over to the closet. he was shirtless, wearing his gray sweatpants. that was his form of “pajamas”. god, you were lucky he was your man because he was beautiful. his arms were toned and his abs were well defined. it was a shame it was always hidden.

“you like what you see?” satoru teased as he grabbed a black t-shirt to shove over his head.

“shut up,” you giggled from the bed and admitted, “i watch you change every morning, babe.”

“creepy,” he teased and chuckled as he changed into his work pants and put on his way too large jacket, “but you’re my little creep.”

you always told him his jujutsu high uniform was too baggy, an opposite from when you were students. he liked to say he was hiding his body so that no one would try to steal him away from you. that always earned a playful, soft slap across his chest. he knew he would never entertain another woman’s attention. he loved you deeply. hell, you were the only one who put up with him besides principal yaga and shoko. they gave you thank you cards every year for dealing with him.

satoru made his way to the kitchen and started up the coffee maker. he had spent a hefty price tag on this coffee maker to replace your single cup coffee maker when you moved into the apartment. satoru’s morning routine looked like this: get up, get dressed, make coffee for the both of you, kiss you goodbye, and teleport to work. he wouldn’t have it any other way.

the warm embrace of coffee scent started to fill the kitchen. you could smell it from the bedroom since satoru left the door open. you knew that you could get an extra hour of sleep if you tried right now, so you closed your eyes.

in the kitchen, satoru poured himself a cup of coffee and added far too many sugar cubes and more than enough creamer in his. he sipped it slowly while he stepped outside onto the apartment balcony to check his surroundings quickly before he left for work. he shrugged after finding nothing and walked back into the kitchen to pour you a cup of coffee.

fortunately, you and satoru were the same when it came to coffee tastes. you both liked extremely sweet coffee. he took out your favorite coffee creamer and counted from 1-5 as he poured your coffee. another little thing he learned while dating you. you had told him counting to 5 would give the best amount of coffee-to-creamer ratio. he stirred your coffee while smiling at that memory and made his way back to the bedroom with your cup and his.

satoru kicked open the door gently, announcing quietly, “good morning, sweetheart. satoru’s special delivery.”

he sat down on your side of the bed, grinning as he handed you your coffee mug, “coffee for mi’lady.”

you glared at the mug he gave you. it was a gag gift from the jujutsu high employee white elephant gift exchange last year. satoru ended up getting a mug that said “best dick ever”.

“thank you, my king,” you joked back. you grabbed the dumb (but funny and correct) mug from him and sat up in bed.

he leaned down to kiss you, but you backed away from him, covering your mouth.

“nope. i have morning breath.”

“baby, we have been dating for years. i'm over that stage.”

“well, i’m not and i don’t think i ever will be.”

“if you loved me, you would let me give you a kiss before i leave for work.” satoru laughed.

you and him went through this every morning. instead of a kiss on the lips, he’ll settle with multiple kisses all over your face. he kissed both your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and lastly, your forehead.

you took a sip of your perfectly made coffee and looked him straight in the eyes, “and if you loved me, you would let me sleep in in the mornings.”

© 2023 ASDFGHJKLMALS — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK.

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[toabh]

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#May 05 #2022 at 10:07AM https://scontent-iad3-1.cdninstagram.com/v/t51.29350-15/279867624_2774027178

[notmuchtofind]

public eye pt2 | d.s

tw: low appetite, possible miscarriage, cheating

pt 1 here

a/n: it’s finally out lol!! tysm for the interaction on the past fic🥹 i hope you enjoy! lmk your thoughts x

"drew if it's not what you want and it's what I eventually want, are we even right for each other? What are we doing? You don't care for me like you usto, you're not the same. you're a dick" you say trying not to shout

"I don't know what I want right now?" Drew states, not looking you in the eyes.

How's he being so calm? Why is he doing this? This is not like drew.

"fuck you." You stand up out of the chair and walk right out of the cafe doors, tears start streaming down your face and you try to hide your face with the palm of your hand...

*snap* followed by a flicker

*snap* *snap*

fuck.

you look around...

"Is that paparazzi?" you mumble to yourself 

you walk faster to your car, quickly opening the door and throwing your bag on the backseat, you fumble to turn the engine on and see slight flickers through the rearview mirror...this is the last thing you need right now.

_________________________

After setting your keys aside on the kitchen table and kicking your shoes off, you immediately undressed out of the clothes you had picked out to see Drew in and chucked on your dressing. spending the rest of that day on the couch. Tears would brim in your eyes, often spilling over through the course of the day as you'd replay what had been said by drew in your mind. And there was no text from him. no apology, no checking up on you, no nothing...maybe this was really over? It seemed to all happen so quickly. How could you go from, what people knew as the 'IT' couple, to being, well...nothing.

Passed out on the couch, you are awoken by the pinging of notifications coming from your phone. In a dazed state your initial thought is that Drews trying to get hold of you. Your hand fumbles around the couch as you follow the sound trying to relocate the phone. You pick it up, eyes half wide, and check the time. 4:07am.

"fuck" you mumble too yourself, you've been on this couch for nearly 12 hours...

As your eyes wander down from the timestamp at the top of your phone screen, you lock your gaze onto the first notification.

Twitter : @drewobxlover03 Tagged you in a post.

'okay, pretty normal?' you think to yourself 

but as your sleepy eyes drift down some more...

6,789 more.

You quickly adjust your position on the couch, now sitting up as your back leans against the arm of it... your gaze widens.

Too caught up in your own trail of thoughts and distress when you entered your home earlier, The flickers from the paparazzi camera didn't even cross your mind. You were used to it to say the least, but you'd forgotten the difference in what they may have captured earlier on...

Your finger glides over the notifications and swipes to open.

You're met with a picture grid.

A "slideshow" full of your swollen teary face. Drews hands flailing around at you through the cafe windows. your figure towering over drew as you got up out of your seat. You abruptly dash out of the cafe doors...

The number on your twitter activity heading just keeps rising... and rising. 

A pit in your stomach starts to grow, but You can't help but click on more, its a bad idea... 

Met by more photos of you from different angles, red streaks from tears that have trailed down your cheeks. Feelings of embarrassment overcome your being.

until the embarrassment turns into dismay.

Your palm meets your mouth, shocked by the images on your phone screen, you're breathed.

They're in a car...pictures of him, and her... touching her face?...They're laughing? they’re way too close for your liking.

your heart begins swelling with hurt, you feel a physical pain ache within your chest, thoughts that it may almost rupture.

You scan the comments, your thumb appears to be scrolling too fast for your eyes to catch up. 

@user0844628495: OMFG HE DIDN'T TT!!???

@Chaseforeverxoxo: I never liked y/n anyways lol.

@obxstufffff: Who is she??? 

@starkeyandy/l/n20: no no no no!!! please, I don't believe in true love fr :((((((

@user984763097: I hate men.

You should've known from the moment Drew was being distant after he started shooting for the new film that there was something off, that he'd possibly found another girl. it just never seemed to cross your mind. Not your drew? Not after nearly 4 years and especially not after you guys were so public with your relationship. 

Maybe it lingered in your subconscious...but your heart was too heavy to allow yourself to slip that possibility to the front of your mind. You feel like a fool.

The only person who knew you and drew just as equally was Madelyne. After phoning her up and apologising for how late it was, you explained the situation. she offered to come round and comfort you, and you allowed her to do just that, as you sobbed into her arms she was wiping your tears. She didn't say much, she just held you...the truth is there's not much she could say...at least not to you anyways. But she promised the next time she and Drew would come into contact it would not end well, and she was adamant that it would be the last time she would willingly be in the same room as him. Even though you met Madelyn through drew, you and her hit it off so quickly, it's like you found your platonic soulmate as well as your romantic one...or so you had thought.

~~~~~~~

Madelyn was passed out on the opposite side of the couch when you decided to get up and get some water, your appetite was certainly not present but you figured you should hydrate yourself, your tears had drained your body from water. You glance over to the kitchen as you make your way there. The time reads 8am on the digital clock within the microwave.

As you drag your feet around the kitchen, collecting a glass to fill with water, your ears prick up to the sound of a knock at your door. Confused, you slowly redirect your journey and turn to the front door. You peak through the peephole, to find the boy you've been in hysterics over for the past, well...however many hours.

He knocks again, this time a little louder.

Your mind starts racing, your heart begins to pound and you get that ever so familiar feeling of anxiety that rushes over you.

You shake your head in distress and you battle with your thoughts on what to do next...

"y/n...please, open the door... I know you're not asleep"

He's right, he knows you well enough to know your mind wouldn't allow you to sleep for more than a couple hours at a time when you're feeling upset.

You glance over to the couch where Madelyn still lays, her breaths slow and fall steadily.

You step a little closer to the door frame and lean your weight onto one side. "um, Drew...I-I really don't feel like speaking right now"

"please y/n, just open the door, let me explain myself... I- i've been shit I know and ...i'm sorry, can you just hear me out?" Drew utters through slight cracks in his voice.

Tears brim in your eyes as you listen through the door to the words that trail out of Drews mouth...you tilt your head back and gasp for air as you try and hold back your wave of emotions. You want to see him, you want to talk, but you feel like you're almost stuck, unable to think straight, you're not ready for the emotional baggage that a conversation like this would bring right now. You figure there's no real explanation on why Drew has treated you the way he has for the past couple of months, and no excuse for acting the way he had in the photos you'd seen, it all hurt you, and it was valid. 

Your brain is scattered trying to figure out the right way to go about all of this...but almost before your mind could tell you no, your hand reaches for the hinges to unlock the front door.

your eyes lock together, and you can see Drews been crying, they're bloodshot and his eyebags slightly swollen. You look down at your feet as you quietly step outside the front door and into the apartment block hallway. "i've got to come out here, Madelyn's asleep..." you whisper slightly. Drew nods sheepishly.

as you close the door and shuffle your feet in front of Drew, you look up to him and fold your arms. "so?...you wanted to talk to me what do you want you want to say?" you question

"I just wanted to say i'm sorry, that I never meant to hurt you, you were right, I have been a dick, i've been scared and stressed and i've made some stupid decision I-"

"did you sleep with her?" you interrupt, you couldn’t truly hear drew out until you got off what was on your mind, you just needed to know first.

"huh?" He questions, his eyebrows burrowing slightly 

"Did you sleep with her?" you utter through a passive tone

" I-what do you mean ?"

"Ive seen the fucking photos Joseph! did you. sleep. with her?" you exclaim, hands gesturing to emphasise your emotions.

"What? What photos y/n? I- I don't know what youre talking about?"

your heart skips a beat

The truth is, Drew hadn't looked on twitter, Drew hadn't seen the photos of you, or him, or her. He always kept his phone on do not disturb between the night and early morning. And when the realisation hits...you can't help but snap.

A small chuckle slips through your lips. "are you fucking kidding me drew?"` you spit " you really was going to come here, apologies and not be truthful about what happened last night, do you think im fucking stupid? look at your fucking phone!?" 

But before Drew can get out his phone to check what youre talking about, you get out your own, shoving the image of him and another girl into his face. "this?" you state through gritted teeth.

Drews expression changes, his brows drop. 

"anything to say? maybe the reason youve been such a dick is because youre fucking your co star huh?" 

but before you could ask him once more, you notice his attention isn’t on you, but is drawn towards the floor

As you look down towards your bare legs, you notice drops of blood beginning to fall from in between, first slowly…then all at once.

cramping begins in your lower abdomen, however, it doesn't feel familiar, it feels uneasy…you begin to panic, facing drew with your hand now clamped over your mouth… 

“what the fuck y/n, we- we have to get you to a hospital…”

a/n: pt3??????

@winterrrnight @loves0phelia @f4ll-for-you @leyla-1905 @dilvcv @abarleyexistentbeing @tringeorge @emmsyysstuff @missamericanablog @deadxrx @clearpoetryobservation-blog @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @emotionsmgcbabe @aliciacat20

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #fanfic #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #the other zoey #fluff #obx #rafe cameron fluff #angst drew #drew starkey angst #drew starkey x y/n #rafe obx #obx imagine #drew starkey obx

[ooshu]

his choice

summary: at the end of the day, haechan chooses you despite the distance in time and proximity. but why do you feel so... guilty?

notes: idol!haechan, long distance relationship, no amount of fluff detected in this fic lol 221130 haechan i have real feelings for you

genre: angst | word count: 1.4k

- “baby?”, haechan says on the other line.

“haech… hi.”

you were laying on your bed. it has been a long, tiring week. on the other hand, haechan was sitting in front of his laptop. he was trying to fix his phone, trying to find the right angle for you to see his face clearly via facetime. once he felt everything is settled, he just stared at you. he can’t help but smile at your loving features. you are still beautiful as ever, he thought.

but you can see he was also exhausted. his eyes were kind of droopy, longing for some good night sleep. but he decided to stay up to accompany you while you twist and turn, and find the right sleeping position until you fall asleep.

“not going to bed, haech?”

“i’ll let you sleep first, baby.”

then a faint smile slowly crept on your face.

you thought it was cute. he is still the haechan you knew when he mustered up the courage to say he likes you on that one night in that one september night. you thought it was funny, even. he cannot look you in the eyes when he confessed, shy and all. it was unusual for someone who is loved by plenty to still giggle and blush like a little kid. haechan remains humble, head on the clouds but feet on the ground. and that is why despite the doubts and risks of accepting his love, you took the leap of faith, and haechan never failed to make you feel special every single day.

but with the tremendous amount of work lined up in his unpredictable schedule, you cannot help but feel… sorry.

you would be lying if you say you purposely did not answer some of his calls because he was persistent to see you when he gets the chance to do so.

january 16, 1:07am | haech wrote:

january 16, 1:07am | haech wrote:

where were you?

you weren’t picking up :(

you can almost hear haechan sulking as you read his text.

january 16, 2:15am | you wrote:

just out, haechan.

january 16, 2:16am | haech wrote:

tell me about your day? :)

there were at least six missed calls that you refused to answer before this. as you watched your phone vibrating, you just wished he would… stop. it was also two in the morning from where he is, currently touring and all, while you just came back from work and slept. timezones, the distance; you can’t help but to wonder why he still stays.

january 16, 2:20am | you wrote:

tired, baby.

january 16, 2:20am | haech wrote:

just five minutes, please?

but you just left him on read. the way he waited for you to response as he replied instantly for your texts is already bothering you. you also clearly did not know back then why you would do such a thing to haechan until weeks passed by…

it never occurred to you what exactly it was until you have seen him yawning and falling asleep as the both of you catch up on what has been going on with your lives. you clearly knew it was guilty to have him around while he was struggling to maintain his life and work. the guilt rushed in when he started texting almost apologetic messages saying “i’m sorry, i fell asleep.”, “have a great day, baby! i know you could do it!”, and the recent and out-of-the-blue text message he sent that sent you the urge to hit the block button for his own good:

january 28, 5:55am | haech wrote:

baby. i hope you never get tired of me… of this. i know it has been a rough couple of weeks of us being in different parts of the world. you don’t know how much i want to hold you, kiss you, and hug you at every chance i get. please wait for me to come home. please never be tired. i’m willing to work this out. i’ll make time for you, baby.

don't leave me, please?

and by that time, you knew haechan has been also feeling you were about to back down. it is just that the assumed reasons were different. haechan feels he was losing you because of the lack of time and distance he spends with you, and you, on the other hand, are willing to sacrifice this love that you wanted to keep for a long so he could continue living freely.

so you decided to talk to haechan tonight.

he deserved to at least receive a proper goodbye.

“what time is it there, haech?”

“it’s…” haechan looked at his watch, eyebrows scrunched and all, “two-thirty a.m.”

“aren’t you tired?”

“not when i see you, baby.”

you felt like your heart is about to burst from being squeezed so tightly. you removed your phone from your face and let the camera face in front of the ceiling. you were suppressing your whimpers. it hurts to hear those words; those words that were carefully curated for you to be heard so you would be convinced he is enduring it all when he is not. and giving up the fight is only the answer you have.

“baby…?” haechan asks for you. “still there?”

“yeah, yeah.” you wiped your tears away and faked a forced smile for him to see. you picked up your phone and made sure he could not see any hints of you hurting. “just… picked up something.”

“oh, okay.”

you can hear haechan singing baekhyun’s love again, and you just smiled through the entire mini-show, exclusively for you. he loved singing and sharing his favorite songs with you. you were never a fan of ballads until he came into your life, and suddenly everything felt at ease. but you had to ask before you.

“does it get tiring sometimes, haech?”

“what do you mean?”

“this.”

he looked straight at the camera and stopped the music playing in the background. haechan kind of stood still for seconds, bracing himself on where this conversation is going. but he responded upfront and with no hesitations.

“never.”

“why?” you asked.

“because it’s you.”

“why do you still stay?”

“because it’s you.”

“why do you keep saying it’s me?”

“because i love you.”

haechan can feel the series of questions from you being said so nonchalantly and so monotonously. he already knows your walls are building themselves up as he continuously answers. it was frustrating to see that you were no longer convinced, that the i love yous no longer work.

“stop saying that, haechan.”

“it’s haech.”

“what do i even do for you?”

“you—you make me happy, baby.”

“just go to sleep, haechan.”

“i won’t.”

“why?”

“because i know i won’t be seeing you in the morning after this.”

and you know he was right. you were already consumed by the thought of leaving and convinced he makes himself strong in front of you despite the circumstances.

but haechan is not ready to give it all up, not just yet.

“listen to me, baby. please?”

you turned off your camera, and you can see haechan slightly panicking. but he had to keep his composure still.

“every day, i choose you. my heart chooses you. i come back to you because my heart says so—that you keep me sane. you keep me feeling things; that you keep me afloat; that you keep me human.” haechan insists.

“you are that tiny light that i see whenever i come back to my apartment; and when i see it, it feels like someone’s waiting for me to come home, baby.

you are that someone, baby. you love me because i can fall crumbling and all because you are my home. and you accept my flaws.

it doesn’t matter if i’m tired and all, because you’re… you’re my rest.”

you let out sobs and your cries were no longer able to be contained. haechan waits for you on the other line to open your camera, or at least say something back. he anxiously taps his foot on the floor.

you picked up your phone and there he was, staring intently at a blank screen, biting his lower lip and teary-eyed.

“loving someone is a choice.

and every day, i choose you.”

and before you end the call, you heard him saying:

"i love you so much.

come back to me, baby, please?”

would you?

#nct fic #nct oneshot #nct imagine #nct fluff #nct angst #nct scenario #nct smut #nct x reader #nct x you #nct x y/n #haechan #haechan fic #haechan oneshot #haechan imagine #haechan fluff #haechan angst #haechan scenario #haechan smut #haechan x reader #haechan x you #haechan x y/n #donghyuck fic #donghyuck imagine #donghyuck angst #donghyuck imagines #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck smut #donghyuck x reader #donghyuck x y/n

[itsbeeble]

Lovin’ Me (pt. 1)

Summary: You and Jeonghan have a...difficult relationship. You love him, and though you would like to think he feels the same, you know he will never love you. So why do you keep going to him every time he calls?

Genre: Angst, (mild) smut, college!au (are we surprised? no), hurt no comfort

WC: 2.9k

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x fem!reader

Read the other parts: pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3

WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT || MINORS DNI!!!!

Warnings: mild smut, pet names, angst, name calling (in the not sexy way), mild bullying? Idk that’s it I think. Jeonghan’s kind of a bitch

listen to Lovin’ Me by FIFTY FIFTY for the full effect

It keeps happening

Let's meet again

At this hour

You feelin' me?

You did it again. 

You responded to his call. 

Despite the late hour, despite the exhaustion weighing on your bones, you responded to his call. Responded to Jeonghan, to the way he called you only when he wanted someone. Wanted someone to touch, to kiss, to fuck. Someone willing to be under him.

How could you not? When he treats you like he cares for your, makes you feel like you’re the only person he has his eyes on. Like you’re the only one he holds at night, calling you pretty names while he fucks you into oblivion. 

When he’s pounding into you, you can’t help but wish that you were the only one he would do this to. With his hand on the base of your neck, your legs wrapped around his slim waist. The pleasure is building up, a knot winding up so tightly in the pit of your stomach that you can’t help but whine his name into the open air, can’t help but claw at his back, holding his shoulders for dear life. 

One of your hands finds his hair, tangling in the black strands and pulling a pretty whine from his lips. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” his head falls into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and placing light kisses into your sweaty skin. “Do that again.” You do, your back arching into him and your walls fluttering around his cock when he thrusts into you even faster. 

You let your eyes flutter shut again, taking everything he gives you in this moment, knowing that when it’s over, you’ll have to leave again. Pretend that he never touched you, never fucked you, never convinced you that maybe…maybe you could be something more. 

~

He’s watching you, his eyes tracing your naked body as you lay beside him. Neither of you is saying anything, just letting the silence wash over you. Jeonghan wonders what you’re thinking. You’re quiet. Too quiet, your breaths making hardly any noise in the silence of his bedroom. 

It’s sudden when you get up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and gathering your scattered clothing items. Jeonghan checks the time on his phone. 3:07AM. He gnaws on his lip, his brows furrowing. 

“You should…” Stay. You should stay with me. Stay with me forever, love me the way I love you. “You should get going.” He watches your body stiffen, and a lump begins to form in his throat. “Don’t want anyone finding out, y’know?” 

“Yeah. I know.” You tug your shirt over your head, searching for the slippers you’d worn over. You refuse to look at him. You keep your eyes on the ground, but he can tell by the shaking in your hands that you’re upset. “Can’t have anyone thinking you care about me. What a scandal.” 

“Sweetheart,” Jeonghan sighs and sits up, leaning against the headboard of his bed. “You know that isn’t what I meant.” You look at him, finally, and shrug.

“Sure it isn’t. I was just joking.” He knows that’s not true. Knows that you’re more hurt than you’re letting on. 

“Come here,” he beckons you toward him, but you hesitate. “Sweetheart, come here.” You do, and he leans forward to grab your hand and pull you toward him until you’re sat on his lap, only separated by your thin shorts and his duvet. Jeonghan runs his hands up and down your sides, squeezing lightly at your hips. Your hands are resting on his chest, and you’re refusing to look at him again. 

His hand comes up to your chin, grabbing it between his thumb and pointer finger and forcing you to look at him. There’s a tiredness in your eyes, beyond the late hour and the…activities you’d participated in not thirty minutes prior. It scares him. 

“You know I care about you.” A kiss is pressed to your lips, featherlight but enough to have your eyes fluttering shut and waiting for more. So he gives you what you want. His kiss becomes heavier, but stays slow and patient. His tongue runs across your lip, and he waits for your lips to part before he pulls away, teasing you just a little. “I’m sorry if it seems like I don’t.”

He watches you nod and pulls you into him, your head now resting in the crook of his neck and his arms wrapped around your waist. He stays like that for a few moments, cherishing the time he gets to hold you, to pretend that you’re his and no one else can have you. 

~

The scorn-filled looks you receive from him the second you enter the lecture hall has your throat tightening and your eyes watering. You listen to the way his new fling flirts with him, mocks you, and throws herself all over him. He responds to the comments, though disinterested, with equal amounts of mockery. He makes a fool of you, and his friends just watch and listen with looks of utter confusion, as if they hadn’t seen him kissing you and holding you with absolute infatuation in his eyes. 

“Hey,” you flinch when Seungcheol takes a seat next to you. 

“Hi…?” You can feel a set of eyes burning into the side of your head and know Jeonghan is glaring at the two of you from across the room. 

“Are you and Jeonghan okay?” Your body stiffens, and Seungcheol frowns. Your professor enters the hall at that moment, and you expect the taller, muscular man to get up and head over to his friends.

But he doesn’t. 

He sits with you, waiting for you to respond to him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You stare straight ahead, trying to listen to the older man at the front of the room talk, but it’s hard when Seungcheol is staring down at you. 

“Y/N,” he speaks quietly now. “Aren’t you two a…thing?” He’s even questioning himself, and you can’t help the scoff that leaves your lips, louder than expected. 

“You really think I would willingly be with him?” You’re upset. Seungcheol can tell, and you know it frustrates him just as much as it frustrates you. 

“You don’t have to lie to me.” Seuncheol nudges you with his elbow. “You don’t have to lie to any of us. Everyone already knows. It’s just the two of you that don’t want to admit it.”

“I don’t have anything to admit.” You lie. “We aren’t together. We aren’t dating. We aren’t a thing.” 

Seungcheol frowns, and even you know that you’re trying to convince yourself more than him. 

~

“Seungcheol,” you flinch when you hear Jeonghan’s voice approaching the two of you after class. He’s walking towards the two of you, his new girl draped under his arm. He’s glaring at the two of you, his gaze only hardening when you meet his eye. “What are you doing with this…thing.” He sneers at you, and your gaze drops to the ground. 

Thing. Jeonghan sees you as a thing. An object. He didn’t call you a freak, or a bitch, or a nerd. He called you a thing as if you weren’t even worthy enough to be considered a person. Like you were some second-rate object that’s been used and tossed aside over and over again. 

“Don’t call her that, Jeonghan.” Seungcheol snaps, stepping in front of you. “She isn’t a goddamn object. She’s a person, one you’re being a piece of shit to for no reason.”

“Oh please,” Jeonghan scoffs. “You really think I don’t have a reason?” He takes a step forward, and so does Seungcheol. He looks tiny compared to the other man, smaller in stature and build. But he stands his ground, confidence radiating from his body. The girl behind Jeonghan begins whining, tugging at his arm until the dark-haired man snaps at her and waves her away. She scoffs, glaring at him and then at you before stalking away. 

“I’m getting real sick of your shit, Jeonghan.” Seungcheol hisses. “And so is she.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” Jeonghan’s eyes flick to you, an unknown emotion filling them before he’s looking back at his friend. “What kind of bullshit has she put you on now?”

“Don’t play stupid with me, Han.” Seungcheol leans down to his friend, whispering something that you can’t hear, but you can see a bit of panic in Jeonghan’s eyes before it’s replaced by annoyance. “You understand me?”

“Loud and clear.” 

~

It was hours later when you hear from Jeonghan. Hours later when you get the weak apology text, and him telling you that he’d meet you in front of your dorm to bring you to the party that night. You almost text him back to tell him you wouldn’t be going. That you felt sick and he should just go and have fun with his friends. With the girl he’d been with. But you don’t. You can’t bring yourself to lie to him, even when he does it every day. 

Truthfully, you don’t understand him. Don’t understand why he feels the need to lie to you and to everyone around you. The burning feeling inside of you, the knowledge that you never come first in his life no matter what he tells you when you’re together. No matter how he tries to convince you that you were the one he wanted. That you were the one he cared about, not the girls you see him with every other week. 

“You’re thinking.” Jeonghan glances at you out of the corner of his eye, scanning your face and your body. He watches the way you tug your dress down, sliding the straps just a little further up your shoulder. You look over at him and shrug. 

“I’m not. Look at the road.” He scoffs, but listens to you nonetheless. 

“You make it sound like I don’t know you, sweetheart.” But you don’t. You want to scream. You want to tell him everything that’s been on your mind these past few weeks. But the look in his eye, the genuine concern…it stops you. You know, or you think you know, that he cares about you. That he wants you to be okay. 

“I said I’m fine, Hannie.” You can hear the pounding music down the road and start to unbuckle your seatbelt. “Stop the car.” 

“What?” You look at him, your eyebrows coming together.

“I need to get out, remember? Before anyone can see me?” Another scoff from him. “What are you scoffing at?”

“Why would I drop you off down the road? We can walk together.” 

“But why— you never want us to be seen together.” You can see him sink in on himself. He pulls the car over, and you stare up at the house. Maybe this is what he wants. He wants to lead you on, to show you to people as if he wants to be with you and then dump you on the ground again by the end of the night. 

You flinch when he opens your door, holding a hand out for you to take. You can see people lingering on the front lawn, watching you and talking to each other. You don’t know what they’re saying. Don’t want to know. His hand is warm in your own, and you find yourself easily slipping into the rhythm of being his again, just for a few hours. Just for the night, and then everything will go back to the way it should be. The way he wants it to be. 

“Let’s go, sweetheart.” Jeonghan’s smile is warm, but you don’t return it. You tug your skirt down your legs, your free hand shaking while you’re led up to the front door. 

He knocks, his eyes moving to your figure while he waits for the host to open up. 

The door swings open. You drop Jeonghan’s hand before the host notices, stepping away when the two men greet each other. You slip inside without either of them noticing, and disappear to a corner of the room where none of his friends would notice you. 

You begin to mingle. You begin to talk to people you know, talk to people you’ve never seen before. You begin to grow comfortable, but never fully. Not when you can feel Jeonghan’s eyes on you the whole night. Not when you can see him standing with his friends with a cold glare on his face. Anger, maybe. Never jealousy. Not from him. 

He attempted to approach you a few times, but you were quick to slip away from him. You were quick to avoid his attempts at talking to you, at insulting you or getting too close. You avoided him altogether, if possible. But it was getting harder. He was popping up out of nowhere, trying desperately to get you to stop for just a moment. 

~

“Sweetheart,” he approaches you again, when you’re leaving the bathroom. Your eyes go wide, and you try to squeeze by him again. He takes a deep breath, his jaw clenching before he shoves you back into the tiny room, locking the door behind him. 

“Jeonghan, what are you doing?” You hiss, trying to push past him again but he catches you by the arm and presses his lips harshly against your own. He kisses you hard, nearly knocking you over from the force of it and causing your arms to fly up, using his shoulders to stabilize your body. Everything inside of you, every thought and every beat of your heart, screams at you to shove him away from you. Everything about this sets off alarms in your brain, but you shut them down. You let him kiss you. You let him sweep you off your feet again, let him empty any thoughts you might have had of pushing him away.

When you pull away, your heart pounding and your breathing labored, he doesn’t let you go far. He doesn’t let you pull out of his grip and escape around him. Not yet. Not when he has so much to tell you. 

“Why are you doing this?” His eyes go wide at your question. At the tears that begin to pool in your eyes.

“What?”

“Why do you…Why do you do these things? You— you tell me that you hate me. You can’t even consider me a person in front of your friends or— or anyone at these fucking parties or at school. You pretend I mean nothing to you, treat me like this side piece that comes to you at every beck and call. And then— and then when we’re alone you act like you actually care about me. Why, Jeonghan?” 

The tears are spilling down your cheeks. He watches them fall. Watches them slip under your chin and down your neck and all he wants to do is wipe them away but he feels like he’s frozen in place.

“I don’t— I do care about you, sweetheart. You know I do!” He reaches for you, tries to take your other hand in his, but you pull away. 

“No, I don’t.” You shake your head, flinching when a knock sounds at the door. “I don’t know shit, Jeonghan.”

“What— what do I have to do to get you to believe me?” He begs, his voice trembling just like yours. He can’t lose you. Not like this. Not yet. “You— do you want me to— to yell it out for the world to hear? Do you want me to drop Eun-bi? What. Tell me what you want and I’ll do it for you.” He’s on his knees, and you stand about him with a look nearing heartbreak. 

“No, you won’t, Hannie.” Your voice cracks and you watch as the realization hits him. That you’ve hit your breaking point. “You won’t do any of that. You know why?”

“Why, sweetheart.”

“Because you don’t love me.” His heart shatters. He’s sure you can hear it cracking into millions of pieces. “Not in the way you think you do. Not in the way I want you to.”

“So…so what? This is it?” You take a deep breath, looking away from him. He’s on his feet again, reaching for you and forcing you to look at him. “You’re just gonna leave? Just like that? You’re not even going to give me a chance?”

“I’ve given you chances,” you snap, jerking out of his grip. “I’ve given you far more chances than I should have.”

“You don’t mean this.” He scoffs. 

“I do, Jeonghan.” You look him in the eye, far angrier than you had been moments ago. “I’m done trying. I’m done trying to get you to love me how I love you. I’m just…I’m so tired.” 

This time when you step away from him, he lets you leave. He lets you unlock the door and open it gently. He watches you hesitate, waiting for him to say something, anything. Wait for him to stop you.

He doesn’t. 

He watches you leave.

Oops! I'm losing again

Even if you take it slowly, I want you to reach me

Falling in

~

TAGLIST: @stfuayu

#itsbeeble #itsbeeble masterlist #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop angst #kpop smut #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen angst #seventeen smut #yoon jeonghan #seventeen x reader #yoon jeonghan imagines #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan x reader

[biancadjarin]

ʚ Send Me an Angel ɞ

part 1 part 2

- pairing: perv!dark!em x bratty!henderson sister!fem reader

- content warning: 18+ rough sex, choking, Eddie’s a bit scary/stalker vibes in this one. Proceed with caution!

- words: listen, I don’t know how to do the word count thing but this is a longer one.

- a/n: Eddie became a little darker in this chapter.. hopefully you enjoy! Y’know in S4E1 when Erica says “He’s sharp.” And Eddie shoots the guys that look when they laugh? That’s the energy he has in this. Anyway, feedback, likes and reblogs are appreciated!! Also just btw-a lot of my titles are songs. Send me an Angel is an 80’s banger I highly recommend listening to. Find the rest of my masterlist HERE.

You’ve been waiting in your bedroom for almost 2 hours when you hear your front door start to open and shut. Finally your brothers annoying little friends are all going home and Eddie will be up here soon. You do a giddy little dance thinking about being alone with him.

Omg Eddie is going to be in my room, you think to yourself. Your stomach has been filled with anxious butterflies all night and you’ve gone from casually sitting at your desk *pretending* to read a book, to laying on your bed looking nonchalant and sexy to pacing your floor, to where you are now, sinking into the plush oversized beanbag chair in the corner of your room. Your eyes dart to your clock again for the 100th time. 11:22pm.

What’s taking him so long? Did he change his mind? Was he just teasing you before in the kitchen? Maybe he just wanted you to stop distracting him and his hellfire friends so they could finish their stupid game…

Just as you started to feel your nose tingle with the beginning of tears a knock comes on your door. “Come in!” you call out sweetly.

Much to your disappointment, Dustin walks in. Alone.

“Hey so the guys are all gone. Thanks for giving us some space..” he looks down at his socked feet nervously. “Sorry if I was a little rude before.” he says sincerely. You smile at him. As much as your little brother can be a total pain in the ass, you love him and you’re happy he’s got a group of friends that are as nerdy as him. It’s actually a miracle he was allowed into Hellfire. All the other guys are seniors.

“They’re all gone?” You ask, trying to hide the desperate hopefulness in your voice. “Yep, you can go downstairs and make as much noise as you want. I’m going to bed. Night!” He calls over his shoulder as he heads down the hall to his room.

You walk over to your door and close it again, the disappointment spilling from your heart, into a pit in your stomach and creeping back up into your throat, which is tightening. The tingles in your nose are back as the sting of tears start to prick at your eyes. You slip into your silky pink nightgown and run back to your bed to hide under the covers. Of course Eddie doesn’t really like me. You think to yourself. He probably only likes pretty cheerleaders. You remember how you felt a few days ago at lunch when Eddie checked two of them out when they walked past him. His eyes swept their bodies from head to toe while he grinned and they giggled and pretended Hawkin’s resident freak wasn’t also one of the hottest guys in school. The tears finally spilled from your eyes as you imagined Eddie going to hang out with one of them tonight instead of you…

Your room is dark except for the moonlight spilling in through your double windows when you’re awoken from your sleep with a soft tap tap tap on the glass. Your eyes open slowly and adjust to the low light when you see a silhouette outside of your window. Your heart stops for half a second before realizing who it is. Eddie’s crouched on your balcony, moonlight backlighting his curls and broad shoulders.

He waves at you and points at the latch on your window, beckoning you to come and unlock it. You begin to toss the covers off your body when you stop and look at the clock. 12:07am. Why is he here now? Did he forget about me and then finally remember? I should just let him freeze out there. Your mind is racing with questions that there’s only one way to get answers to so you decide to take a deep breath and huff over to your window, unlocking and pulling it open.

“Shit y/n, I’ve been tapping on your window for ten minutes.” Eddie says as he ducks into the warmth of your room. He looks around, taking in the soft pink of your walls, the desk littered with perfumes and jewelry, your bed’s puffy white duvet looking like a soft, ethereal cloud, your unicorn and bunny stuffed animals mixed in with your pillows. The corners of his mouth start to lift into a smirk until his eyes land on you, standing in front of him pouting with your arms crossed as you stare at him.

“What’re you doing here?” You ask him in your quiet, sleepy voice. Your eyes look tired and puffy, pink rimmed and still a bit wet from your tears. Confusion is written all over Eddie’s face. You two had a plan didn’t you? He was going to come here after Hellfire. He’s here. So what’s the problem?

“I’m here to see you angel.” He says low and gravelly as he steps closer to you, his warm hands settling on either side of your waist. His fingers squeeze and slip over the buttery fabric. “This is cute.” He says as his eyes dip down to take in your body. “Is this what princesses like you sleep in?” He says mockingly, eyes darting back up to yours, grinning like a devil. He pushes closer into you, the front of his denim covered thighs meeting your bare ones. You back up slowly, moving with him as he maneuvers you two towards your bed.

“It’s midnight Eddie.” You say with your bratty attitude as your palms come up to rest on his chest. “I’ve been waiting for you for hours. I-I thought…” your voice gets lost in your throat.

“You thought what baby?” Eddie asks, his hand coming up to rest on your cheek, his thumb pushing up your jaw so your eyes meet his. “Why does it look like you’ve been crying?” He asks, voice softening as he studies your face intently.

“I though maybe you forgot about me. Or you didn’t actually want to see me.” You whine as your lower lip comes out in a pout.

He chuckles, “Forget about you?” He shakes his head as he leans close to your face, “Never. I just had to take your little boyfriend Gareth home first. And I couldn’t just walk up the stairs and into your room now could I? What would Dustin think?”

You shrug and look to the side. You hadn’t thought of that. “Girls as pretty as you really shouldn’t cry over boys, princess. Especially ones as dumb as me.” Eddie’s voice is a whisper as he softly turns your face to look back at him. You want to argue and tell him he’s not dumb but you can’t help but feel a bit intimidated by him at this close proximity. He’s a few inches taller than you, and the scent flowing off of him is making your mind feel dizzy. He smells clean and warm, like cheap bar soap and cigarette smoke. His breath smells faintly like cherry, like he drank a dr. pepper on the way over here. “I don’t actually like Gareth you know, Eddie.” You tell him. He laughs again, hands releasing your cheeks. “Oh no?” He asks, mock surprised. You shake your head as you watch him start to kick off his sneakers and reach over his head to pull off his shirt. “Just tryin’ to make me jealous then?” He winks.

You stare at him with wide eyes. Eddie’s in my room. Shirtless. In the middle of the night. My crush is shirtless in my room at 12am. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, then ask him, “What are you doing?”

“Y/n, c’mon, it’s midnight. I’m horny. Let’s not play pretend ok?” He says as he sits on the edge of your bed, thighs spread wide for you to stand between. “You know why I’m here, don’t you?” His hand reaches out and tickles at the hem of your nightgown, shifting it up your thigh slightly and leaving goosebumps on your skin. “Lemme see that pretty little body baby.” You’re practically shaking with nervous energy when you reach up to pull the thin straps of your nightgown off your body. You know the second you do, you’ll be completely bare in front of Eddie. You can already feel the warm wetness slicking between your legs and you wonder if Eddie is as nervous as you. Probably not.

Your fingers begin to reach up when Eddie suddenly puts a hand up. “Wait.” You stare at him, wondering if you’ve done something wrong. He sighs, “I don’t want you to do this unless you’re sure. I can leave.” He says as he points a thumb back to the window he came in from. Your eyes widen in panic, head shaking back and forth as you whimper a soft “Mm mm! I’m sure, Eddie. I really want you here.” He bites his bottom lip to hold back his smile. “I don’t know.” He teases. “Maybe I should go.. wouldn’t want to start something you can’t handle.” “I can handle it Eddie, promise.” “Good. Now take it off slowly. Give me a little show sweetheart. Like you’re unwrapping a present on Christmas morning.” He leans back, palms resting behind him. A smug smirk plays across his lips. You do as he says, sliding one strap off your shoulder and playfully lifting the hem of your nightgown, turning slowly and letting the underside of your asscheeks peek out at him. He groans and bites his bottom lip as he watches you. He wants a show, you’ll give him one.

“Y’know I’ve thought about this.” Eddie starts, “Ever since the first time I saw you. I knew you couldn’t be a good girl all the time.”

“Sometimes good girls can do bad things.” You say over your shoulder to him. “Especially for bad boys.”

He laughs. “Bad boys, huh? S’that what I am?” You look at him with narrowed eyes and a weak smile, as if he just asked if the sky is blue. When he laughs his dimples deepen and his eyes crinkle at the corners. Their deep caramel color sparkles in the moonlight spilling in from your window. He’s even prettier at night. You didn’t think that was possible.

“I’m not the kind of guy that has crushes y/n. It’s not hard for me to get girls. In fact, it’s a little too easy sometimes.” He palms at the growing erection in his jeans, giving it a few rubs before he pops open the top button of his tight pants. “Me and Harrington even have a little game going. Who can fuck twenty six girls first? A name for every letter in the alphabet.” Your stomach drops at his confession. “But then I met you. And I didn’t wanna play that game anymore. I didn’t wanna think about other girls anymore. Because I felt something I’d forgotten I could feel. A crush. On you.” You spin back around to look at him. You let both straps fall off your shoulders, the cool air of your room instantly hitting your sensitive nipples and making them taut and perked. Eddie lets out a low groan as his hips stir. “It’s pathetic really.. how much I think about you.” He admits. His hand reaches up to cup your breasts, letting the curve of them rest in his palms as his thumbs swipe your nipples roughly. Your heartbeat is pulsing in your ears but you keep listening intently to Eddie, not wanting to miss a word. “I thought the curiosity was going to kill me until I figured out Dustin is your brother. So even though him and Mike are freshman, I let them join Hellfire.” Your eyebrows furrow as you start to piece together what Eddie is saying. None of this was an accident.

“Fuck these are nice. You want me to suck your tits? Treat you like the slut I know you are?” You groaned at his words, pussy throbbing and dripping with desire. “Yes Eddie please. Want you.” “Want me to what?” “Treat me like a slut. Please.” His eyes looked up at yours, one eyebrow raised, mouth hanging open. “Yeah?” He clarified. You nodded as you bit your lip. His hands grab either side of your hips to pull you closer to him. Your thighs lean against his lap, his hard bulge poking into you.

His lips suction over your nipple in an instant. His mouth is warm, no, hot and his tongue is velvety smooth. He licks your nipple sloppily before switching to your other boob. He begins to suck that nipple before letting his mouth wander a bit and attaching to the smooth squishy skin of your breast. His eyes are closed and his breath is coming out in hot bursts through his nostrils as he sucks the skin hard. After a few seconds, he releases with a pop and sits back a bit to admire his work. An oval shaped purple and pink bruise. “I guess I won’t be wearing low cut tops for a few days.” You say breathlessly. His eyebrows pinch in the middle, annoyed at the thought of another guy looking at you, fuck even thinking about you! He pulls your nightgown off the rest of the way roughly, tossing it across your room.

A low strained sound comes from deep in his throat. His hands ghost down your sides and settle on your ass, the tips of his fingers resting at the crease under your cheeks. He pulls you impossibly closer to him and then lifts both hand to bring them down with a loud smack! You jolt forward and the cute little squeal noise you make shoots right to Eddie’s cock. If he doesn’t fuck your soon, he thinks he’ll go insane. He stands up and instructs you to lay down. You do as your told, laying on your soft bed, sheets cool and smoothed down, not a wrinkle in them. Eddie can’t wait to make a mess of you and your perfect little bed. He unbuckles his belt and pulls it out of it’s loops with a thwip. You lay on your side and watch him pull his boxers down, the light trail of hair under his belly button leading to a small patch of matching brown above his dick. And holy shit he’s big. Bigger than you thought. He crawls onto the bed, body laying on top of yours, the full weight of him being partially supported by his forearm by your head.

“You ready to be my good girl? Or do you still want me to treat you like a slut?” He questioned, eyes staring into yours. His eyes are telling you to say you’ll be good but your brain is telling you to let him treat you like a slut. “Uhm..” he senses your hesitation. And honestly? It just makes him harder. “I’ve only had sex once before Eddie. I don’t know if-if I can fit you.” You say nervously, not wanting to disappoint him. “Oh don’t worry, princess.” He reaches down and lets his fingers pet the smooth wet folds of your pussy. He slips a finger into you easily, pumping a couple times before adding a second. “You can do anything you set your mind to.” He says before removing his hand and slowly sliding his entire length into you at once. A loud moan comes from deep within you as he settles on both his forearms, his fingers getting lost in your hair and his hips setting a deep, intense rhythm. Every pump of his cock makes him groan in disbelief, never thinking he’d know what your sweet pussy felt like. But now he’s here and it’s better than he’s ever imagined. Your soft moans and sighs, every inch of you impossibly soft, the smell of bubblegum on your skin and vanilla floating off of your hair. Your pussy is perfect, spongey and warm and fuck, is she clenching around me right now? He wonders. His nickname for you has never been more true. You’re his now. His angel. And he’d do anything to be the only one to corrupt you ever again.

“You’re so tight baby.” He says into the side of your neck. “Been wanting this for so long, fuck.” “Me too.” You moan out weakly. He chuckles before a hand reaches down and pulls up behind your knee, your thigh coming to press into your chest. He pumps faster now, holding you in the position. His dick is even deeper inside you and the pleasure is starting to turn into a pressure that almost feels too like much.

“Ed-Eddie! It’s s’too much! I can’t!” “Shut up.” He growls into your ear, pace not letting up. You feel tears starts to wet the edge of your eyes, one escaping and sliding down your cheek. “You said you wanted this sweetheart.” He pants, a sheen of sweat starting to emerge on his chest from his effort. “I’m just giving you what you begged for.” You whimpered beneath him, the pain fading back into something pleasurable again. His hand came to rest on your throat, fingers curling into the sides and applying a light pressure. You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on the coil tightening in your belly, your floor muscles cramping and putting pressure on your clit from the inside. As if he can read your thoughts, Eddie’s fingers find your swollen bud and begin vibrating against it in tight circles.

“Look how wet you are, angel. Making a total mess on your sheets.” You look down but it’s no use. Too dark to see. You can’t think. Can’t speak. Can only feel how Eddie’s cock is splitting you open and his hand is around your neck. “Open your mouth baby.” He demands breathlessly. You open up, tongue sticking out a bit before Eddie spits toward your mouth. Some landing on your tongue, the rest on your chin and chest. He laughs darkly and you pout up at him. “Wha?” He asks teasing you with a fake pout to mirror yours. “Too rough for you baby?”

“Mm mm.” You say as you shake your head. “That’s what I thought. Now shut up so I can concentrate, gonna cum so hard and deep in this pussy.” “Wait Eddie- you should really pull out I’m not on-”. His hand leaves your throat to come up and cover your mouth. You whine through his hand but it doesn’t matter. He’s back at your clit and your orgasm comes rushing like the crest of a wave in the dead of night. Dark and all consuming, it pulls you under and fills your ears with ringing.

Eddie comes closely behind you, pushing his hips flush against yours, making sure every drop he spills inside you stays there.

“Fuuuuck.” He groans as he rolls onto your rumpled duvet, laying next to you for a minute as his breathing gets back to normal. You roll onto your side and lean your cheek on his tattooed bicep, fingertips angling his face to kiss you. He does, his tongue massaging yours and a ringed hand coming up to cradle your cheek softly. A stark contrast to his demeanor a minute ago. The kiss almost feels sweet. Romantic. Soft. Maybe he’s a little rough when he fucks you but if he’s this sweet the rest of the time, it’s worth it. Worth it to be his, his, just his.

He sighs deeply before shrugging you off his arm, standing up and getting dressed. You get up and slip your nightie back on, not sure if he’s about to leave or ask you to come with him.. you kinda hope it’s the latter.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything. Just pulls his leather jacket on and starts to walk towards your window. You follow after him, hand finding his just as he gets to the window. He turns and smiles at you, a detached look in his eyes that you lie to yourself and say is just him being tired.

“If I stay here and cuddle with you, I won’t ever want to leave y/n.” You nod slowly, knowing you deserve better but accepting his reasoning nonetheless. “But you’ll call me? You’ll talk to me at school?” You ask him sadly. His heart really does ache at your sweet questions. “Of course I will, angel.” He says with a soft kiss and nuzzle of the tip of his nose against yours that makes you giggle. “I’ll see you Monday.” He says as he ducks out your window, disappearing back into the night.

You lay back down, fake scenarios playing in your mind about what Monday will bring lulling you to sleep.

Eddie gets back in his van and pops open the glovebox. Tongue poking out of the side of his mouth he feels around for a crumpled piece of paper and a pen. Next to the first letter of your name, he put a check mark and writes “y/n, best one yet.”

the end

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

#mean!eddie munson #mean!eddie x innocent!reader #mean!eddie #mean!eddie coded #mean!eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson smut #18+ only #stalker!eddie munson #stalker!eddie #eddie x reader #eddie munson fan fiction

[phyrestartr]

Till Death Do Us Part (Miguel x Reader)

Miguel x Husband!Reader W/C: 9.5k

#NSFW, exhibitionist kink, praise kink, hurt/comfort, infidelity, toxic relationships, brief verbal abuse, mending relationships, mentions of medication, mentions of mental illness, difficult/complex feelings and emotions, things work out in the end, nobody dies, the zombies aren't that important, old men just really going through it

Note: I cried a lot writing this lol please also cry and enjoy! (I also tried my best with the Spanish and tried to reference good sources, but I apologize if it sounds whack lol I only know EN and JP o(--( )

-- Till Death Do Us Part --

"(Name), where the fuck are you?" Miguel ran his hand through his hair as he watched the news, as he stared outside at the cascade of chaos. He waited for you to pick up the phone. He'd already called so many times, but you weren't picking up. Why weren't you fucking picking up? 

"Miguel, he's probably fine," Dana cooed as her arms looped around him from behind. "You need to worry about what we're gonna do." 

Miguel shook his head and shoved Dana's arms off of him. "Our daughter–Gabriella–" 

"You mean our daughter?" Her tone was vile. So, so fucking vile.

"Shut up," Miguel barked before ripping the phone from his ear when your voicemail picked up again. He shot you another text, asking where you were before his fidgety fingers scrolled the log up and down, cruelly reminding himself of the messages he'd ignored from you just a few days ago. 

November 18th 7:04am babe come home 7:04am please 12:19pm we can talk about it  12:20pm we'll figure it out 12:46pm gabi misses you 9:34pm call me tomorrow

November 19th 7:35am you still ignoring me? 7:40am gabi wants to call you 7:41am you gonna answer if it's her? 8:05am i'll tell her you're busy with work 9:50pm i miss you

November 21st  9:56pm call me

November 23rd 12:01am i shot someone  12:01am i had to 12:01am but i can't stop thinking about it  12:32am i need you  1:12am please 2:07am miguel

November 30th 7:16am miggs shit's crazy outside 7:17am lock the doors, don't let anyone inside 7:17am maybe stock up on food first idk this might take a while  7:18am but DON'T help anyone who's bit or injured 7:19am they evacuated gabi's school but i don't fucking know where they're going 7:19am i'm gonna find her, i promise 7:20am i love you. stay safe.

December 2nd  3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Miguel rubbed his eyes. He sped past his own wall of text starting from that day, December 3rd, and sent another plea, another wish that you'd respond back sooner than a week from now.

"Oh my God, just give it up–" 

"Dana, shut the fuck up, just shut up." 

He called you again. 

And this time, you answered. 

Miguel's heart jumped. "(Name)?" 

"Babe?" You sounded like you were panting, like you were straining against something. "Are–are you okay? Where are you?" A string of coughs punched out of your lungs in rough staccato, pinching Miguel's nerves with every ghastly beat. He was scared. He was so fucking scared. 

"I--I'm," Miguel stammered, still unable to have that conversation, still too much of a coward in the end. "Does it matter?" 

"Just keep the doors locked," you continued. "Keep 'em locked, and…and I dunno if you're in a tower or a house or fucking whatever, but don't leave until things get quiet." You picked yourself up from the ground, Miguel could tell by the scratch of gravel echoing wherever you were. "Don't get bit. Don't help anyone who is bit. Put yourselves first." 

"But, I–you–do you have Gabi?" Panic gripped his throat as jets flew overhead, high above the city. The engines roared a gruesome apology, a sound Ouranos himself must have made when his own children slew him, so filled with godly enmity. 

Then, molten death rained on the city. Miguel stared at roaring explosions dotting the cityscape, watching pillars of flame feed into the world's chaos. His hands trembled when the same carnage screeched through your phone. 

"I'll find her. I-I promise, Miguel, I'll find her and--and I'll–shit."  

There was gunfire. Gunfire encased in wild snarling. It devoured the crack of plastic hitting concrete, the noises you gasped out, the–

Silence.

Miguel hated his mind. He hated how it remembered that one moment so clearly, like it'd happened just a minute before the present. Sometimes, when he felt like torturing himself more, he wondered what your face looked like in those last moments. He wondered where your life flickered out. He wondered when he'd see you stumbling through the streets and have to put a bullet in your head. 

But he'd force good memories to the surface when he found the light growing too dim; that confession and first kiss, starry nights spent lazing on the hood of your jeep, the look on your face when you finally held little Gabriella for the first time–it all chased away the darkness. It all made him feel whole again, it let him see clearly again. But with clarity came the difficulty of accepting what he'd lost.

He found a way to do it. He found a way to talk about you, too. It was hard not to–your old colleagues, other officers of the lost world, were an integral part of the Alchemax colony. Jeff Morales and George Stacy, amongst a few others, had known you, and by proxy they knew Miguel.

"He was a good guy," Jeff had mentioned when the moment felt right. "Bragged about having the best-looking and smartest partner around. Now, I ain't gonna say he was right, but he wasn't wrong." That brought warmth to Miguel's chest, but guilt smothered it too quickly. 

"Never stopped talking about your daughter either." George smiled when he recalled it, but it was something small and morose. "Gabriella, right? Yeah, he said she was a smart cookie. Kind of a brat, apparently, but hey, with that guy as her father? Hah! I'm not surprised." 

Miguel liked having them around. He liked the happy memories they brought to your name.

But on bad days, vulnerable days, Miguel wanted to break their necks and watch them turn so he could kill them again in their undeath; they still had their children, their families. How could they bring up what he'd lost while they still had everything? 

Today was one of those days, too, one where your memory hurt just a little more than usual. Maybe it came with the snow whirling in the blue-drenched outdoors, or the sudden darkness the world lost itself in. But he knew the frostbite decaying his heart came from the eternal proof of your lost existence:

December 2nd  3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Why did you apologize? Miguel sighed, and carded a hand through his hair as he paced Alchemax's halls. Enough of that, Miguel. You need to focus. Focus. 

And once he stepped foot in the control room, the routine morning check commenced: doors remained sealed with no record of tampering, security cameras still functioned, the solar panels still collected more than enough light to keep things rolling. Good. Perfect. 

"Hey, hey, how's it lookin'?" Peter asked, a cup of coffee in one hand and his little girl tucked in the other arm. It would've been a wholesome sight, if Peter hadn't ruined it with a too-loud slurp from his mug. Ugh. 

"Fine," Miguel grumbled. "Everything's in the green. Nothing to worry about." He ran a hand over his face with a sigh. "Just have to clear the snow off the solar panels later today." 

"Oooh, snow! It is that time of the year, huh? December already! Who woulda thought. Time goes by pretty quick when you're not worried about getting eaten all the time." Peter looked at his little May and cooed. "Isn't that right, Mayday?" 

Miguel rolled his eyes fondly and shook his head. "If you're that excited about snow, I'll put you on shovelling duty, Parker." 

"Oh, wow, I'm suddenly deaf and can't hear you." Peter shuffled away in his stupid slippers and stupid bathrobe. "Oh, right, right, MJ made bread! Can you believe it? I feel like I haven't had a bread-carb in forever! We really gotta do another supply run or we're eating canned beans all winter long. Y'know what? I'll put it on the 'to-do' list!" 

Miguel threw a glare at Peter over his shoulder. He was annoying, but he wasn't wrong. They did need more food, more supplies, more ways to sustain themselves. Scavenging the dregs of supermarkets and convenience stores wasn't cutting it anymore; there were too many mouths to feed, and shitty, packaged foods wouldn't suffice much longer.

Miguel braced his hands on the centre console after pulling up a satellite map of the surrounding area. The lab they called home laid nestled away from prying eyes of citizens, making it a safer place to start to rebuild the semblance of a normal life. Though, at the same time, it made it more difficult to get in and out of the city in good time. They had to pick their destination on the map, calculate the time it'd take to get there, and then execute the plan with little to no hiccups. It was hard. It was a pain in the ass. But it had to be done.

Miguel took his time scanning through the map, trying to spot any buildings they hadn't already marked off as empty and not worth the trip. These days, they had to get creative, they had to think of places that'd have food where people wouldn't expect, where the average scavenger wouldn't think to look and–

"Shit," Miguel breathed before rushing to move the map. "How could I forget?"

He spotted a small building on the map, one they'd never ventured to, one they never thought to go to. A chain link fence surrounded the perimeter, giving about five metres worth of breathing room around the building. Clusters of huge garden pots dotted the area randomly, along with whatever outdoor trees and shrubs that'd survived all these years on their own.

Miguel covered his mouth as he smiled.

"You might've just saved us, viejo." 

Because you were a country boy. A farmer's son. 

You convinced (begged) him to pull over, to go to the new garden store that'd appeared not too long ago. Miguel, far too smitten with you, couldn't find the heart to say 'no' to the excitement buzzing in your voice. 

The store was filled with beautiful plants, ranging from common houseplants, to tropical rarities that Miguel never knew existed. All sorts of bushy plants, tall single-leafers, and vining beauties lined the displays and bathed in the gentle, constant mist raining down on them. It really felt like a tropical jungle landed in New York. 

You'd sauntered over to the seed section while Miguel wandered through all the store had to offer before finding you again. You had several sachets in your hands and scanned the shelves for anything else that piqued your interest; they were all vegetable seeds, stuff like corn and green beans, tomatoes and onions, but the occasional herb showed itself as well. 

To Miguel, raising vegetables seemed like a cute hobby. But to you, raising crops meant revisiting your childhood. 

"You wanna get some?" Miguel asked. He looped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder as he read all the different seed names on display. 

"Yeah. I mean…maybe. Dunno if a vegetable garden'll go with the house." You laughed softly, a little self-deprecatingly, before you reached to put the packets back. "I just–I don't know." 

"I think it'll work." A smile warmed Miguel's face as pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. "We can make a greenhouse. A big one. In the backyard." He kissed your neck next. "You can show me the farmboy fantasy." 

You laughed, turned in his arms, and kissed him. "Done."

Miguel crept up to the garden centre with Hobie and Gwen in tow. Travelling anywhere from the safe confines of Alchemax was something of a nightmare, but Miguel was used to it–despite being the man who knew how to run the building, he too often volunteered to head out on supply runs himself. He needed the space to think, to feel the darkness they’d found themselves in, and to feel the light of the sun on his skin to remind himself it wasn’t over. Because it was far from over. 

The garden centre was surrounded by chain link fences encircling the entirety of the building, the very same ones Miguel had seen from the satellite’s view. Honestly, he found himself surprised to see just how good the place looked–the windows were mostly intact, the fences hadn’t been torn through, the doors were still sealed, and a row of crippled undead and frozen re-deads dotted the perimeter, but none were inside. It didn’t seem like any had ever been inside, actually.

“That’s…kinda weird, right?” Gwen murmured as she adjusted her toque. “This place feels like…like it never went under, or something.” 

“Damn near stuck in the past, I’d say,” Hobie agreed. He looked to Miguel. “Fishy’s an understatement, yeah? Might be some not-so-dead-yets in there.” 

Miguel took a deep breath as he thought. “It’s a plant store. Not the highest priority for scavengers like us.” He headed forward, grip tight on his hunting knife. “Try not to shoot. Not unless there’s a runner.” 

“Better not be any runners,” Gwen grumbled. “It’s December. Hopefully they’re all freezing to double-death right now.” 

Hobie scoffed a smile. “If not, we just give ‘em an early Christmas present, hey?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure they’d love their brains blown out.” 

“Eh. I would.” 

Miguel rolled his eyes as the youngins bickered softly behind him. There was no point stopping them–trying to dad them out in the wilds of New York just gave Miguel a bigger headache, and too often ended in a louder match of bickering and scolding, which then often resulted in the undead stumbling their way. It was always a mess. Maybe he should stop bringing the dynamic duo with him. 

But you’d known them. You were fond of them, too, always letting them off the hook with a slap on the wrist when they were caught vandalizing buildings or stealing from stores when they were teenagers. You laughed when you told Miguel stories about them, about how Hobie’d call you “officer tall, sunny and handsome” to get on your good side (which worked), and how Gwen would try to bribe you with car-washings and babysitting to get you to not tell her dad what happened. You knew they were good kids, just bored and too smart for their own good. Miguel knew that, too; the two of you were thick as thieves back in the day, total petty-crime masterminds. Maybe Hobie and Gwen were your dark apprentices, in a way. 

Miguel smiled faintly. He missed the days where you both broke into abandoned buildings, haunted houses and everything else inbetween to fool around and fuck. It’d always be filmed, much to Miguel’s embarrassment, but watching the videos back always made him feel…wanted. Appreciated. Like a rare piece of art. 

You’d always cheese it up and make it sound like some sort of bad porno or found-footage film, like you didn't just break into Chuck E. Cheese to fuck in front of the creepy animatronics. Breaking the law got you excited, as ironic as that was for a future cop. Miguel thought you were a freak. Miguel was kind of a freak too, though. 

“Fucking God,” Miguel moaned, somehow louder than the squeak of the table hosting your feverish coupling. His hips bucked and rolled against yours in a desperate attempt to keep up with your brutal, delicious pace, and his thighs dug into your sides with his hands clutching to your shoulders for dear life. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you mumbled into his ear. Miguel’s body gave a sharp, involuntary jolt, kickstarting the sudden crescendo of his well-earned euphoria. He let his voice be heard as he arched off that shitty table and up against your solid frame, his hips still rutting and moving in sync with your own. You groaned too, letting yourself be just as loud in the midst of him tightening around your heavy, thick cock pummeling into him. 

“God, lookit that pretty face,” you growled when you pulled back to see how fucked out he was. “You feel good, huh? ‘M I makin’ you cum hard?” Your hand slapped the side of his ass, and Miguel whimpered sharply. “You’re so good, baby, so fucking good. I’ll make you cum again, yeah? Make you cum while you–while you take everything I got.” 

You were terrible. Horrible. A monster in the sack, and apparently in front of powered-down robots. You did what you promised, and ripped another orgasm from his exhausted, over-stimulated body before reaching your own blissful undoing with a rude grin on your stupid, annoying face. 

It made for good content, though.

They reached the front gate without problem, only to find it locked with hefty chains and thick padlocks. If there were people in there, then breaking through the first line of defence wasn’t their favoured option–they didn’t like other survivors, no, and they didn’t work with them without good reason, but they weren’t in the business of sabotaging them, either. 

“Hobie,” Miguel beckoned, muffling the chains’ clanking while holding up one of the locks. 

The young man smirked and flicked his old lock picking set from his pocket. “Don’t mind if I do, coz.” 

He unlocked everything in record time. Miguel thought of you for a moment, and wondered if you’d taught the young man a few nefarious tricks since you, too, were an expert sneak. But Miguel pushed the thought aside as they all carefully, slowly, painstakingly unwrapped the linked metal from the fence, and pushed it open with just as much care to keep the noise to a minimum. It’d be a shame to ring the dinner bell in such an untouched place. 

They relocked one of the padlocks for peace of mind before wandering towards the front entrance. The doors’ windows were boarded neatly and meticulously, Miguel noticed first. He crouched down and noted something blocking the small gap between the ground and the door, but the faintest reach of light still reached through the few cracks that remained. 

“Lights’re on. Front’s boarded,” he sighed before backing up. “Might be a different way inside. Looks like there might be people in–” 

“Miguel!” Gwen whispered. He looked her way, and saw her point to a decrepit shed nestled up against the side of the building, right underneath a large window. Shoved against it laid a single, heavy pot flipped on its end, serving as a sort of stool to get up on. But the lack of snow on the newfound path gave Miguel pause.

“I’ll check it out,” Gwen said before nimbly scampering up the side of the shed. 

Miguel frowned. “Gwen–”

“Relax, I’m just gonna look.” But Miguel did not relax, especially not when she rose on her tiptoes on that shitty, rickety shed roof and peered through the window before her eyes grew wide with a soft woah. 

“Whatcha got, Gwendy?” Hobie asked, approaching the shed himself. 

“You two–” Miguel warned. He looked around cautiously, his body aching with primal instinct–they weren’t alone. There had to be someone else here. Gwen and Hobie had to realize that. They were smarter than this. They wouldn’t do anything stupid. They wouldn’t be hypnotized by whatever was in there and throw caution to the wind to get it. Right? Right. 

…Right?

Excited, Gwen smiled and glanced at the two before looking back at whatever she saw. “There’re–there’s…trees? And bushes with veggies and–and wow, you were right, Miguel.” 

“Well, I say we hop in there and snag a few to bring back, yeah?” Hobie suggested. “Reckon they grew on their own?”

“No,” Miguel scolded. “They didn’t. Come down, right now. We need more people for this.” 

“I’m juuust gonna...” Gwen reached for the window, and Miguel’s anxiety peaked.

“Gwen.” 

“Just a little–” The window groaned as it popped open. 

They froze. They died as statues for a single, long moment, rejecting the need to breathe, letting their eyes freeze solid in winter’s mercy while their ears pricked, searching like the alert deer suspecting death stalking nearby after a misstep on a brittle branch. 

One minute passed. 

Then two minutes. 

Three minutes.

But the birds kept chirping, the world kept spinning, and Ares didn’t come to collect their battle-worn souls.

Gwen looked at her group with a nervous smile, a guilty thing that said, “oops?” 

Miguel was furious. But now was not the time to argue or yell. He could let her father handle that back at Alchemax.

But someone grabbed her, and yanked her inside.

Hobie didn’t hesitate. He jumped up to where Gwen once stood and took the plunge after her, scrambling up into the window, but that same someone shoved him, sending him plummeting down to the frigid concrete. Miguel rushed to his side when he hit the pavement with a choked-back groan. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Miguel rolled him on his back. “Hobie, you fucking idiot.” Miguel’s panic ebbed just the slightest bit when he saw the punk blinking away stars instead of losing consciousness. 

Click. 

Electricity burst through him. Miguel ripped his revolver free of its holster and returned aim up at the shadow in the window. The tired winter sun illuminated a barrel of black metal, and the small, tawny hand holding it steady. A child. A kid. He was pointing a gun at a kid.

“We don’t want any problems, kid,” Miguel called up. He tried to relax, but he couldn’t; children who grew up in this world were ruthless. They were cruel, unrelenting, and unapologetic towards  their targets. He couldn’t blame them. It was all they’d known, all they’d been taught. But they were only as cruel as their teachers made them. Some of them still held on to shreds of humanity. 

And judging by that unwavering hand, Miguel feared their adversary was at least a confident shot if not a full-blooded monster.

“Yeah, c’mon,” Hobie groaned. “We just–we just want some seeds ‘n shit, ‘at’s all.” 

The small hand faltered a bit. Seems she still possessed sympathy. But a voice, deep and thread-bare, called to her. She looked over her shoulder for a second, before pulling the window closed and locking the latch behind her. 

Panic lanced through Miguel as anger possessed Hobie. “I’m gonna snap that kid in half–” but the creaky hinges of the front door opening cut him off. Miguel aimed toward it, and Hobie did the same once he got himself together, but then–then Gwen peeked out. 

“Guys!” Her hand fluttered and ushered them to come. “You’re not gonna believe this! It’s–” 

“Daddy?” A young, gentle voice asked, and Miguel’s gaze snapped to her. To her. To the little girl peeking out from around Gwen. To his baby, to his tiny world, long lost but never forgotten. To–

“Gabriella,” Miguel breathed. 

“Ho-ly shit,” Hobie commented.

Gabi’s eyes flooded with emotion. She sprinted to him, nearly slipping and tripping in the snow before jumping into his arms and holding on tight. She was so much older now, so much bigger; her tiny face used to bury into his stomach, but now she had her head tucked up against his chest, staining his jacket with heavy tears. 

“It’s okay, mija, it’s okay. I’m here, Daddy’s got you.” Miguel kissed the top of her head. He fought back tears of his own, but did so so pitifully with broken, bewildered laughs and shaking breaths. He pulled back and looked down at her face, her beautiful, beautiful face, and carefully wiped away the wet trails freezing on her cheeks. “I–you–L-Look at you. How’d you get so big?” 

Gabi smiled and sniffled as she wiped her eyes. “I-I, um, finally ate my veggies.” She took a breath to try and still the quiver in her lungs between thoughts. “Y-You have so much grey in your hair now!”

A few beats of warm laughter left Miguel. “Yeah, no thanks to you. Spent all this time worrying about you, kid.” His hand, so used to killing and defending, trembled as he brushed flyaways out of her face. "Listen, I–I'm gonna take you somewhere safe, okay? You won't be alone anymore." 

Gabriella blinked. Her small hands clutched his jacket. "What? But–"

"She's not alone." 

Miguel almost didn’t look. He didn’t really believe what he just heard. But when he risked it, when he managed to wrench his gaze away from his daughter and back to the heavenly light of the front entrance, he saw you. The man who'd been haunting him for years. The man who'd been keeping him warm at night. You, his lover. You, his husband. 

(You, the man he betrayed.)

"She hasn't been alone," you said, the words punctuated by hazy clouds of warmth–proof you were alive, that you weren't an illusion, not this time. "I promise." 

You looked so, so tired.

But Gwen was grinning, and even Hobie smiled with a lack of irony as he walked to you and gave you a hug. 

"My man! Officer tall, sunny and handsome in the flesh!" He clapped his hand hard against your back but you hardly wavered. You offered a smile, and hugged him back, short and sweet. 

"Hey, Hobie. Behaving?" 

"Eh. Sometimes." 

"Good enough for me." You let him go and scanned over all the survivors, your eyes not lingering on anyone for too long. "Head inside. It's warm, there's food. We'll talk. Gabs?" 

"Okay!" She hurried to corral everyone inside. "In, in, in, we gotta lock up for the night." Her gaze turned to Miguel as he hesitated, still watching you with glazed eyes. "Daddy, are you–?" 

"I'll be there in a second, mija." And, thankfully, his baby girl read the room better than he could have at that age, and let you two be. 

You looked over your shoulder, so like a predator making sure his cubs were inside and safe before prowling through the night. A man enchanted, Miguel followed you, watching you re-lock the gates they'd slipped through, and lagging behind while you checked the perimeter with thorough hands. Miguel would give anything to have those hands on him right now. 

He didn’t know where to start. "(Name), I–" 

"You said you could take her somewhere safe, right?" You asked before you turned that timid, unsure gaze back to him. "You meant that?" 

The words took too long to register. "I–yeah, I meant it. I mean it." Miguel forged courage out of trepidation and used it to fuel his journey to you. "We have a colony. The old Alchemax building, you remember?" 

"The one that was supposed to get torn down?" You wondered. 

Miguel nodded. "Yeah, that one." 

You kept walking. "Didn't we fuck in your office there?" 

A smile threatened Miguel as he followed like a lost puppy. "We did." 

"Ah. Always liked that building. Liked that desk, too." You shrugged. "Comfy, all things considered." 

Miguel hooked his finger into your belt loop and pulled you closer to him. "Then you'll be happy to hear it hasn't changed." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

You almost laughed, Miguel heard it. But you pulled away from him, and wordlessly finished up the perimeter sweep. 

"You should stay the night," you mumbled on the way back. "Pretty sure it's gonna snow." 

"Might make it harder to get back tomorrow," Miguel said, following you inside and watching you bar the door again. "We came here by foot." 

"No truck?" 

"None." 

"I'll take you back, then. I got a truck." 

"You make it sound like you're not coming." Anxiety gripped Miguel. "I'm not losing you again." He held onto your arm tightly.

You looked troubled, glancing between the hand on your arm and Miguel's eyes. "Did Dana die?" You asked. 

Sickness coiled in Miguel's stomach. "What?" But his tone was too deep, too dark. 

You shook your head. "No, I–I'm sorry I don't know why I said that, I'm just–" 

"We both know why you said that," Miguel said through clenched teeth. 

The way you looked at him, eyes full of bristling hatred for the woman who'd stolen away everything from you, set alight an ancient sort of fear in Miguel’s core. It was so like that night, the one where you'd found out. 

Gabi was still at daycare. You were at work. Miguel was supposed to be at work, too. It could have been the perfect crime, one full of sinful lust and infinite rapture. 

But you came home early. 

You didn't even say a word when you walked into the bedroom and found him tangled in the sheets with Dana, with the woman he'd convinced you to think was a surrogate, not someone he was fooling around with and just so happened to knock up. You had that same stare, rotting with hatred, infested with betrayal, all for the woman underneath your husband. Miguel loathed that look, but he found some sick joy in hurting you, too. Because he hated you, for some reason. 

 Dana laughed when you walked out, some smart comment about how pathetic you were dancing off her plush, scarlet-stained lips. Miguel scoffed a laugh, too. You really were a coward, weren't you? 

(But you weren't.)

Miguel finished with Dana, and she left. He heard her say something to you, something light and playful and damn hurtful, but Miguel didn't say anything. Nor did you. 

He found you in the living room after he'd pulled some clothes on like it mattered. He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms, staring hard at your profile while you graced the ground with an empty gaze. Your hands clasped and unclasped slowly. Your head nodded shallowly. 

"You're really not gonna say anything?" Miguel goaded. 

"What am I supposed to say?" You offered. 

Something. Anything. 

Miguel laughed, mocking, and sat down across from you, on a mirrored couch, across the glass coffee table you'd picked out together. 

"How long?" You managed. 

Miguel hummed in thought. "How old's Gabi?" 

That got a reaction out of you, something Miguel craved so deeply; your eyelids fluttered in disbelief, and your lips parted to suck in a sharp breath. You looked hurt. You looked like you were feeling something.

"The prenup says you keep what's yours, I keep what's mine, yeah?" 

Miguel's smile faded. "What?"

"Gifts fall into that category. I’m keeping the Jeep." 

"Wait–" 

"I'll find a lawyer in the morning." You got up, and Miguel snapped. 

"You're not even going to fucking ask why?" He yelled, pursuing you into the bedroom. "You don't wanna know why I'm fucking someone else? What the fuck is wrong with you?" 

You ignored him. Miguel's temper flared. 

"Fine! Fine, fuck it, I'll tell you. You don't excite me anymore. You don't try, you don't wanna fuck me, you don't wanna do anything anymore–" 

"Miguel–" 

"You're not the same man I married. What happened to you? When'd you get so–so pathetic and weak?" He took a pause to breathe. Or maybe gasp, more like, as the stabs of panic started to overtake him. "I hate you. You can't leave me." 

He braced on the door, trying to get his bearings on his own, but you were quick to his side. With a strength Miguel loved and adored, you eased him down and fell in slow-motion with his shaky frame secured in your arms. 

“It’s okay, Miggs. You’re okay.” Your fingers combed through his hair slowly. You held him tight,  and convinced him to breathe with you. In and out. In and out. In and out. He breathed to the rhythm of your heart, as it turned out. Slow and steady. Hurt and bleeding. 

“We’ll figure this out, I promise.” 

And he believed you. 

That’s why he took off the ring, and left first thing in the morning. 

Hobie and Gwen passed out after eating their fill of stew. Miguel was beyond annoyed, but couldn't find it in himself to wake them up and leave, not when you were undecided about going with them, but very much wanting him to take Gabi. 

Honestly, he didn't think you'd still be hurting after all this time. Dana was something of the past, a succubus that followed the steps of opportunity and wealth wherever it may go. That's why she wasn't with the group anymore. That's why she left him when he needed her most, and jumped in a truck with strangers while he bled out, alone, in the solitude of an abandoned pet store. 

Chills raked his spine, breaking off chunks of bone when he thought about it. He'd never been so fucking scared in his life. He wished he could have called you to come save him. He wanted you to be the one to walk in there and find him, crying and dying, because you would have stuck by his side through all of those moments; if he hadn't let his emotions get the best of him, if he hadn't made so many stupid decisions, he would've been with you. If he died that day, it would have been in your arms. 

"Hey," you murmured with a gentle touch to his shoulder. Miguel jumped, and your eyes softened. "You okay?" 

Miguel swallowed thickly as he nodded. He looked around, grounding his mind through the touch of your hand, the duo snoring and slumped against bags of soil, and the gentle flickering of the propane campfire keeping the space warm. You taking a seat beside him helped, too. 

Copper eyes took a moment to pace around the old garden centre; true to the outside, it was more or less untouched on the inside, just more cluttered with haphazard barricades and half-done projects. Miguel watched his ghost walk through the isles, once filled with tropical plants, but now replaced with beautiful, healthy trees raised by your hand. It was no wonder Gabi grew up so strong. 

Speaking of--"Where's Gabi?" 

"She's in the next room. Watering some seedlings." You smiled for a fraction of a second. "Putting her green thumb to the test. Tryna show her old man up, I guess." 

Miguel smiled though his eyes stung. "Sounds like an O'hara." 

"Yeah, I thought so, too." 

You shared a few broken beats of laughter before silence fell, just like the snow beyond the door. Then, shyly, like you'd never done it before, your arm reached around his waist. Miguel didn't hesitate to lean his weight into you, though, and that arm didn't wait to pull him in closer right after. 

"So. You still hate me?" Miguel dared to ask before the dancing cinders.

Your hand smoothed up and down his side thoughtfully, soothingly. Miguel melted against you more with a sweet, content sigh. 

"I never hated you," you whispered in return. "Never." 

Miguel made a little sound, something caught between surprise and relief, while your words sunk deep into his thoughts. You didn’t hate him. You didn’t hate him. 

“Then come back with us.” 

“Miguel–”

“There’s no reason to stay here,” Miguel bit out, frustration egging him on. “We have shelter, we have water, showers, rooms, beds–we have everything.” 

“What about food?” You asked quietly.

But Miguel didn’t have an answer; food was the reason they were coming out here, to find more ways to create sustainable living, to try and make life work again. He couldn’t help but look at the trees and bushes bursting with colourful fruits and vegetables, showing off years of dedication and hard work through the literal fruits of your labour. Miguel didn’t know how hard it was to get there. He didn’t think he wanted to know. 

“...It’s a work in progress,” he grumbled instead of admitting the truth. “But we could use your help.”

Your warm fingers dipped under layers of clothes to find the searing skin of your past lover. To Miguel, it almost ached. He hadn't been touched in so long. He hadn't felt your hands on his bare skin for even longer. It intoxicated him, filled his mind and blood with wants and needs–things only you could fulfil for him. 

"I won't leave you hangin', promise that. I just–I need to figure out how this is all gonna work." You looked around the room, taking stock. "Lots of gear we'll need, lots of shit to move. I'll send you back with whatever's already picked. Not worried about the cold with those. The trees are another story, don't want 'em to go dormant while–" 

Miguel kissed you. Sloppily, and wantonly, but with genuinity. Your hands scrambled to hold onto his massive frame when he leaned into you and almost knocked you off the discounted garden bench. This time, you were the one who made a cute, surprised noise. 

And you were the one who kissed him the second time, but it was smaller and shier coming from you, not so eager to consume like Miguel. Your calloused hand held the side of his neck, and your thumb ran along his jawline thoughtfully when you parted, noses bumping and nudging together in a weak nuzzle. 

"I guess you don't hate me anymore?" Your whisper ached Miguel's heart. 

"I never did," he confessed. 

"Then why did you say it?" 

"I don't know." He traced the curve of your lips with tired, weighted eyes. Your cupid's bow had a nice shape to it, so soft and pillowy, meant just for him. "But I didn't mean it." 

"I need a better answer than that." You swallowed down what Miguel could only guess to be a tincture of fear and sorrow, or maybe rage and betrayal. "I've lived with–with that for a long, long time." Your eyes glistened with unspent grief, suddenly. "I need more than 'I don't know.'" 

Miguel's heart lurched. He hadn't bore witness to the consequences of his selfishness before, not with you, not during his affair with Dana. He'd only seen you grow distant across that coffee table far before that god-awful night. And back then, he wanted a reaction. He wanted something like this out of you, but now, he couldn't fathom why.

"Mi amor, I–it's hard to put into words, and I was a stupid kid, and–hey, hey, don't--don't cry." He wiped away the bravest tear to fall first before you turned away, back to the flickering blaze, and rubbed your face roughly. 

"Here's my guess," you muttered. "You wanted to fuck, and I couldn’t–I just–it was hard for me. Or maybe it wasn’t hard, maybe that’s a better way to put it.” You rubbed your face, and held your head in your hands. "The, ah, the medication, the anti-depressants or whatever, they were fucking me up. I didn’t wanna fuck you. I didn’t wanna do anything. Then I was in training to join the force. Wasn't home, and when I was, I was too tired to take care of you and Gabi, so I focused on her. And that made you go back to Dana. Again." 

Bile scorched the back of Miguel’s throat. "You knew." A realisation, not a question. "You knew we–that she and I–" 

"Yeah, that she wasn't a surrogate.” You picked your head up from your hands and stared at the fire, unseeing. “Because she was dating Gabe at the time, and you were with me." You sighed and let a deep, venomous grief finally escape from the space between your lungs, from the spot where that thing had festered like a disease for too many years. 

"I could let it go the first time, turn a blind eye because she gave me–gave us–our daughter, but–the second time? With all the shit you two said?" You shook your head. "I just--I couldn't–I wish you'd just told me what was wrong. I wish I'd told you what was going on with me, too, 'cause I know all the shit that happened is my fault, too.”

"Dad?” Gabi's small, hollow voice rang. The both of you turned to her, but you were the one who got up. 

“Baby,” You said with a hushed tone, somehow so comforting but so afraid. “Hey, you done with the watering?” 

“Uh, yeah, but…um, is everything okay?” Her gaze flicked between you and Miguel. He could almost hear her little mind firing on all cylinders as she tried to parse what they were talking about. “You look sad.”

You crouched before her and took her hands in yours. “We’re talking through some things, honey, it’s alright. We’re figuring things out.”

A light of worried realization illuminated Gabriella’s gaze. Miguel fidgeted and futzed with his clothes as he looked away, unsure of how to deal with her accusatory revelation. How much did she know? Did you tell her anything? No, no, you wouldn’t do that, you wouldn’t dirty her memory of her father like that. You were a good man. You were a better man than Miguel. 

“Oh,” she whispered. 

You nodded and brushed some hair free from her freckled face. "We’ll be alright, baby. You just get some sleep, alright? Tomorrow's gonna be a busy day. Lots of loading up to do." 

Gabi whispered the softest okay before giving you a hug. She paused for a moment, before running to Miguel and throwing her arms around him for a few precious seconds before running off to the loft to sleep. 

You sighed, then, and Miguel did too.

You turned to him. “Look, you–I don’t know why I’m starting shit right after you…you wander back into my life,” you murmured, going back to Miguel and straddling the bench before taking his hand and squeezing. “I’m sorry. And I love you. You know that, right?”

That pang came back in Miguel’s chest, but this time, it was warmer.

December 2nd  3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Miguel squeezed your hand back and this time, he was the one tearing up. “Mi amor, you don’t need to–you’ve done enough apologizing already.” 

"Miggs, don't say that. I–" 

"Stop. Stop it." Your husband straddled the bench, too, and scooted closer to you until he was more or less in your lap, his heavy thighs draped over your own. 

"But–" you started, and stopped as Miguel cupped your face with both hands and squished your cheeks. You sighed and leaned into his touch when it eased up. "Baby–" 

"Me arrepiento de lo que hice," he whispered to you, "espero algún día puedas perdonarme." He let go of your face, and found your hand to kiss its back. "Te amo." 

You smiled. Something real, something happy. Something that stayed around for more than a few seconds, and made the corners of your eyes crinkle with the beautiful way you'd aged. Then, you kissed him. 

"Te amo," you murmured back, your lips still touching his. "We'll figure this out. Work it out. We have the time." Your lips pressed against his again. "I'm not giving up on us." 

This time, Miguel cried.

It took some time to transport everything to Alchemax. It took a little bit longer to get you there, too. 

But you got there eventually, ready to stay for good, and ready to put Miguel's mind at ease. 

Your old friends and coworkers greeted you, clasping their hands on your back and hugging you tight until you couldn't breathe anymore. You smiled, too, and asked them how they were holding up, if your husband was keeping things in line. You couldn't help but remind them that you in fact hand the handsomest and smartest partner in the world, too. 

They let you get acquainted with the building pretty quickly, probably seeing the haggard, exhausted state you'd lived in for five years and wanting to let you unwind for the first time in a long time. And that called for a hot shower, food, and some sleep. 

"I'll take you to your room," Miguel told you as you both left the common area. 

"My room?" You retorted, sounding mighty confused and damn near insulted. 

Miguel blinked and looked at you. "Yeah. There's enough for–" Oh. 

"What's yours is mine, yeah?" You said, stern and a little bit spicy. "Then your room is mine. And your ass is–"

"Câllate," Miguel cut you off with a smile. "I'll take you to our room." 

He led you there with a bit of a spring to his step, and you kept up with as much enthusiasm. The room was nothing special, featuring nothing more beyond a mediocre bed, uninspired furnishings, and random knick knacks Miguel had left here over the years. But it was home. Your shared home. 

"Huh." You looked around the room. "I think that coffee table woulda looked nice here." 

Miguel scoffed a laugh and rested his hand on the small of your back. "You think so? I think it'd clash." 

"Yeah, well, you have bad taste, hun." 

"Oh, wow, you're really gonna say that when I'm married to you?" 

"I'm the one who confessed first. I'm the one who proposed. Pretty sure it's safe to say I picked you." You leaned toward him and kissed his cheek. “And I have good taste.”

Miguel felt his face get hot. "Shut up and take a shower." 

"Your wish is my command." You set your pack down by the bed before sliding open the door to the ensuite. Miguel watched you like a hawk, his prey drive skyrocketing when he caught swaths of your bare skin peeking out from the washroom. He wanted to watch more, but you deserved a little privacy. 

"Oh," you said, peeking out from the doorway. "I, uh, kept my phone through everything. There're some photos of Gabi, if you wanna check it out." You vanished back into the bathroom and Miguel heard the water turn on. "It's in my pack! In the shitty little phone pocket thing." 

"Yeah, I–okay, I'll take a look, thanks." Miguel smiled, and rummaged through what you'd brought with you before pulling out that beat up phone with the charger still plugged into it and kept together with bandages of tape. Colour him impressed. 

He sat on the edge of the bed and went straight for the camera roll. There were loads of new pictures ranging from Gabriella when she was littler, to pictures of animals that Miguel guessed Gabi had a hand in.

There were old pictures, too. Mostly of Miguel, as embarrassing as that was, but the baby photos took over his reign once that perfect little girl entered your life. It made Miguel wish he’d taken more photos, that he hadn’t thought it was too cliche and embarrassing to capture every moment. He used to say shit like, “Do you have to take a photo? Can’t you just live in the moment?” but you’d stick your tongue out, give him a pinch or a bite on his cheek or something else in retribution. Because you didn’t care, you wanted to look back on little memories. 

He scanned through photos until he caught one that sent a rush of red to his features; it was of him, on his back, eyes teary and face alight with a fierce blush as you, well, obviously fucked him stupid. It was the only one of its kind. Maybe you forgot to delete it? Maybe–

The videos. Oooh, now that had Miguel excited. Miguel scanned through the other folders, but found nothing, much to his dismay and relief, seeing as Gabi probably had free access to your phone. 

But then, he spied a locked folder. 

The first password he tried worked (your anniversary because duh. You were such a sap), and a whole catalogue of videos and pictures were unleashed. 

Miguel glanced up at the washroom door before he skimmed through. He remembered all of these places (but the geo tags helped, too. Christ, you were so organised with your exhibitionist porn), ranging from IKEA after closing, to an abandoned amusement park. He still didn’t know how you picked out these places, or how you knew how to get into them without getting in heaps of trouble with the authorities. 

He tapped on a video and bumped the volume up a couple notches, just so he could barely hear; it was him on his knees, on a rusty old ferris wheel, staring up at you like you were God himself as he gripped your thighs and did his damndest to give you the blowie of a lifetime. Your sighs and soft moans rippled through the speakers like waves lapping at the shoreline. Present Miguel rubbed his mouth, worrying at his bottom lip before licking the dryness away. 

“Good boy,” You whispered on the other side of the camera. Your hand came into view and carded through dark locks before cupping his cheek. Miguel of the past turned into your touch and took your thumb into his mouth while his hand took over stroking your length from base to tip over, and over again. 

Miguel swiped to the next video. He was on his back this time, in your shared bedroom, if that duvet cover was to be trusted, while your fingers plunged deep inside of his heat and tore loud moans and gasps from him. He remembered this; you called it an experiment before you bullied his prostate with three, thick digits.  

"How's that feel, gorgeous?" You purred. Miguel swallowed thickly, both in the video and in the now. His hesitant hand crept down his thigh slowly, like he was trying to hide it from himself and call it an accident as he reached to palm himself through his jeans while he watched. He almost felt guilty. But that's what made it better. 

"Good. Really fucking good." His past self rocked down against your fingers, choking on a needy whine as his eyes slid open, and found you. "I need you, mi amor. Please–" 

"I know, babe, I know. I'm almost done here," you promised. You tilted the camera down to his stretched hole to catch what you did next. "Then you can have whatever you want from me." 

You pressed your pinky in, then, and Miguel of the present bit his lip as his shocked gasp and shaky cry pierced through the speakers. Miguel still couldn't describe the deranged pleasure he got from having half your hand in his ass, nearly to the point of fisting him. 

Miguel switched to a different video quickly. The next one was in the Jeep you loved so much. You were both out camping for the weekend, something you loved and Miguel had learned to love; that stupid red truck became home for so many long weekends, it became host to long hours of napping and intimacy, it turned into one of Miguel's favourite places. 

The video started with you adjusting the camera and squinting at it while Miguel’s younger self bitched and moaned in the background. 

"I'm just making sure the tripod's working 'n shit, babe, just gimme a sec!" You whined back. 

"My dick's getting soft," Miguel threatened, so blasé but annoyed at the same time. "Come on, viejo." 

You pulled away from the camera, grinning smug as a fox, and scooted back to your lover. His past self was lounging, hair and clothes already a mess from the prologue to this movie, as he watched you.  

"I'm here, I'm here." You kissed him, and Miguel could almost taste the s’mores on your tongue, the coffee on your lips. "Sorry, just wanna make sure it's perfect." 

"Oh, yeah, 'course. Gotta make sure your indie porno looks good." 

"Hey, one day we're gonna look back on this! It's worth it, baby, trust me." 

"Whatever. Just kiss me," Miguel demanded with a laugh. And you did as you were told, kissing his lips, then down his chest, then–

"Knew you'd like watching 'em back." 

Miguel jumped, nearly dropping the phone as he jerked his hand away from his clothed bulge. "I, uh–what?" he asked dumbly as he stared at your built frame leaning against the doorframe. God, you were still an impressive specimen. He wished that loose towel would just drop from your hips already.

"Our, ah, home videos." You grinned, so much like that fox from the past, and paced to Miguel. "Nice looking back, ain't it?" You cupped the underside of his jaw and tilted his face up. "Got you a lil' excited, yeah?" 

You weren't wrong. With a hammering heart, burning skin, and tingling nerves, he couldn't deny he was stuck deep in a pool of desire and need. And now with you handling him like this–fuck. He was in trouble. 

Miguel nodded weakly. "Yeah." He took a deep breath. "Just a little." 

“I’ll help.” You eased onto the bed and took great care in settling behind him. "Let the video play," you whispered against his neck before leaving a possessive kiss. 

Miguel leaned back into you. He watched you pop open his jeans and slip a hand down, down, down, until your warm palm met his aching length. A shuddered breath escaped him when you felt him up, pulled him free, squeezing and stroking in all the right spots; it'd been so long since anyone touched him. It'd been so long since he touched himself. 

"I, ah, don’t think we–did we lock the door?" Miguel heard himself moan in the video, and he dared another look; your head bobbed between his thighs while fingers pistoned into him. He wondered if you would do that to him again. Maybe tonight. 

"Nope.”

“Shit.”

"Mmmh. You want me to stop jerking you off so you can lock it?" 

"No." 

You chuckled. "Okay." 

Your hand still worked him slowly and thoughtfully while lovers of the past filled in the rest of the silence. Miguel's hips bucked, and you hummed, so pleased with yourself. Pleased with yourself for pleasing him. Something Miguel found self-value in.

"I think I, uh, I think you mighta been right," he murmured to the air, trying to control his voice. Your gentle hum of intrigue spurred him on. "I think I need you to fuck me more than I realized. Need you to want me, ‘n…take me." 

“Yeah?” You asked before sinking a bite into his neck. “Figured you had somethin’ of a praise kink. Makes sense, in hindsight.”

Miguel gasped when you picked up the pace. “Fuck–I’d call it…mmmmn, I’d call it a-a love language–”

“Huh, didn’t know there were six love languages–”

“Sh-shut up, shut up, you know what I–what I mean–!” Miguel bit down hard on the inside of his mouth as his hips rocked up into your cruel, talented hand. He was close. How embarrassing. “I, uh…physical touch. Words of affirmation.”

“‘Needing my husband to fuck me and tell me I’m sexy.’” Miguel moaned and dug his head back into your shoulder as you chuckled. “That sound about right?”

“Viejo,” he whined, setting the phone aside to be forgotten. “I–”

“I know, baby; show me how hard this love language makes you cum.” 

It only took a few more strokes for Miguel to come undone. His teeth clattered together as he strained to keep his voice on lock as a forgotten rapture ripped the air from his lungs and electrocuted every vessel in his body. He clung to the other arm that’d come to wrap around his chest and hold him against you while you worked him through the motions, slowing down, accommodating the way his body reacted to the blinding pleasure. There were words said, probably encouraging ones muttered into his shoulder, but Miguel didn’t have the mind to parse the meaning of what you’d said. 

“Y’know,” you tried again when Miguel’s mind levelled out, “I think I have a praise kink, too. But a complimentary one. One where I like praising you.” You rested your chin on his shoulder and hummed. “Hm. Who woulda thought.”

“Hah. Good to know you’re still annoying,” Miguel said with a chuckle. He scrunched his nose up when you licked the side of his face. “(Name)--” 

“No.” You bit his cheek this time, and he sighed. You did, however, feel his softening cock start to come back to life again. “Want me to lock the door now, old man?” 

“Yeah,” he breathed. You got off the bed, letting the towel fall where it may, and Miguel finally gazed upon his lost treasure. “And set up your phone. We need to update the archives.”

You grinned when you turned back to him, and Miguel felt so at ease. 

There were still things to work out: the mental illness you hid from him, the cheating Miguel tried to hide from you, the little secrets you both kept wedged in the darkest cracks of your minds. But with you with him, the man who refused to give up on their bond and their love, Miguel felt safe indulging in mindless pleasure you so generously gave to him. Neither of you were about to seal away the past again, but if you could share in the good of your relationship while acknowledging the bad, then hope wasn’t lost; it was found in the moment you’d pulled his old wedding band from your pack, and slipped it back on Miguel’s finger that night, murmuring the words you said in a church so long ago:

“Till death do us part.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv imagine #atsv reader insert #male reader insert #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x male reader #miguel x male reader #male!reader #atsv male!reader insert #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #phyrestartr #smut

[batoftop]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYnzygpYZYg July, 1, 2022, at, 07:07AM July 1, 2022 at 07:07AMFound on YouTube: #agustinlaje #política #filosofia #identidaddegenero #lgbt #leyes #ciencia https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYnzygpYZYg

#https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYnzygpYZYg #IFTTT #Diigo #July #1 #2022 #at #07:07AM

[weather-log]

Rain

📈最高気温: 18度 📉最低気温: 11度 💦湿度: 70% 💥UV指数: 0 😷花粉: 💨風速: Northeast 5 Kph 🌅日出: May 1, 2022 at 04:50AM 🌇日入: May 1, 2022 at 06:27PM 📅May 1, 2022 at 06:07AM

#天気 #May 1 #2022 at 06:07AM