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#And with that I'm finally off to write something :')
ellecdc · 1 day
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Bro I found you through your Poly! Moonwater fics. They fucking awoken something in me. You're writing is literally amazing and I need more lol. No pressure, I know you already have one where the reader likes to party but maybe the boys taking care of reader after getting high or being plastered? Like after a girl's night or something?
No pressure if it doesn't strike your fancy. Have a great day!!
hahaha this was so fun - I'm so glad you love moonwater as much as I do!!! Thanks for your request <33
poly!moonwater x fem!reader who comes home from girl's night
CW: mentions of drinking, drinking games
The sound of the door opening didn’t rouse Remus from his slumber on the couch, but the sound of the door closing did.
Remus sat up quickly and immediately regretted it; his back twinging in pain from the crumpled position he had fallen asleep in waiting for your return home.
Remus’ heart swelled pleasantly at the sight of his book having been plucked gently from his hands and his place marked with a Tesco receipt after he had fallen asleep with it in his hands, very clearly Regulus’ doing.
Regulus seemed to have fared better than he, still (appearing as though he was) passively reading from his book even at the sound of you struggling to enter your shared flat.
His heart shrunk right back down to normal size, however, when he went to stand to greet you at the door and his boyfriend stopped him with a gentle but firm hand on his wrist.
“Sh.” Regulus said, looking past Remus to the hallway you had yet to appear from.
“What?” Remus whispered back, still slightly confused with sleep as it slowly left his body.
“Just listen.” Regulus insisted, placing a bookmark in his own novel before shifting to give Remus (and the still empty corridor) his full attention.
Remus listened bemusedly at the sound of your heavy breathing and what sounded like you trying to take your shoes off. His fingers itched to help you with the buckles he knew always gave you trouble, but he acquiesced to Regulus’ narrowed eyes.
He heard what sounded like you leaning against (falling into) the wall with a quiet yet surprised “oh!” slipping from your lips, causing Remus to smile. 
His smile grew when he saw a matching one on Regulus’ face. 
After hearing your shoes be tossed aside, you clumsily headed towards the living room when you tripped (over likely nothing) causing you to teeter into what Remus knew to be a coat rack which gently bumped into the wall. “Oh, fuck shit balls.” You scowled quietly before you broke out into a fit of quiet giggles.
Regulus’ hand came up to his mouth in a failed attempt to smother his own laughter as your giggles turned into a reproachful “sssssshhhhh” at your own expense.
“Is she shushing herself?” Remus asked Regulus which was answered with a nod of his head yes as his shoulders continued shaking. 
Finally you turned the corner of the living room, sloppy gaze surveying the room as if confirming you weren’t about to be scolded for stealing cookies past your bedtime. 
Suddenly, your eyes fell on the forms of your two boyfriends, and though Remus couldn’t see Regulus’ face with his back turned to him in favour of facing you, he could only imagine that his smile was half the wattage of Remus’ own.
“Hi!” You whispered in reverence at them, as if still attempting to tame your enthusiasm for the sake of your other non-existent flatmates. 
“Hi, dovey!” Remus cheered and made for you, pulling you into his chest where you all but melted in your drunken state.
“Hi!” You cheered again; giggles muffled into the fabric of Remus’ jumper.
“How was your night, amour?” Regulus asked as he stood, barely pausing to press a kiss to your head before making his way into the kitchen.
“Good!” You cheered, clearly only willing (or able) to come up with one-word answers for your boyfriends. 
That was fine by Remus, he’d spend the next four weeks slowly coaxing the details of tonight out of you if it meant he got to keep holding you like this.
Remus chuckled fondly and placed his umpteenth kiss into your hair. “Did you have fun?”
You let out a pleased sigh which seemed to cause you to deflate further as Remus struggled to keep you upright. 
“S’much fun.”
“Oh, for heaven’s- come on, amour.” Regulus admonished as he re-entered the living room with a few tablets in one hand and a glass of water in the other. 
He put both down in favour of hoisting you out of Remus’ faulty grip and helped you sit back onto the couch where you sloppily beamed at the two of them.
“Hi.” You repeated, cheeks flushed from bashfulness or from drinking, Remus wasn’t sure. All he knew was that you were fucking adorable.
“Hi, amour.” Regulus said again, obviously just as willing as Remus to speak to you in only greetings for the rest of the night. “Think you can drink some water and take these for me?” He asked as he held out the glass and tablets.
You seemed nearly too eager to obey and nearly soaked the front of your dress as you brought the glass to your mouth and drank greedily. 
“Easy dove, don’t forget to breathe – no, not at the same time.” Remus scolded, cringing as you nearly choked.
You pulled the glass away and heaved in dramatic breaths as if you’d been holding your breath since the moment you walked in.
“Wow.” You said dopily. “I was really thirsty.”
“I can get you more, cheri. Take the medicine first.”
Your eyes opened comically at that as you looked to Regulus bewilderedly. “Why do I have to take medicine? Am I sick!?” You asked, eyes suddenly glassy in a way Remus did not like.
“No, no dove. It’s preventative, so that you don’t get sick.” Remus placated, sharing a startled gaze with Regulus.
You sighed in relief and opted not to ask any more questions as you took the pills, which both boys were thankful for.
“I’ll go get you more water, love. Rem, do you think you can help her upstairs?”
“It’d be my pleasure.” Remus said shooting you a wink. Usually, it was very hard for Remus to fluster you, but right now you looked like you could melt into the furniture from the slightest glace at him.
He loved it.
He loved you. 
The stairs were a bit of an issue but the two of you made it up them eventually with perhaps only one bruise to Remus’ shin for your efforts, which Remus considered a victory.
You were in one of Remus’ t-shirts and sat on the edge of the bathroom counter when Regulus walked in with a full glass as well as a jug of water. You looked like you could cry at the sight of it.
“Thank you.” You cooed around your toothbrush as you used your free hand to make grabby motions to Regulus. 
He was quick to obey your wish as he moved to stand between your legs and brushed some of the hairs away from your forehead. Remus took your moment of distraction to brush his own teeth
“I’m glad you had a fun night, lovie.” Regulus said quietly, pressing a lingering kiss to your head.
“Me too.” You hummed in agreement.
Regulus took a makeup remover wipe and began working at your face as you continued brushing.
“Who all was there?” He asked conversationally. You turned to your side to spit and rinse so that you could tell him.
“First it was just me ‘n Lily ‘n Marlene.” You slurred slightly, closing your eyes like a cat getting scritches on their forehead as Regulus worked your makeup off. 
“Mhmm, but more showed up?” Regulus continued.
“Mhm.” You parroted. “Then Dorcas and Mary came before Pandora and Barty showed- showed up.” You explained, having to pause for a tired sigh at the end of your sentence.
Regulus’ hand froze in its task of removing your makeup to look at you incredulously, causing Remus to choke on his toothpaste as he laughed. 
“I thought you said it was a girl’s night?” Regulus asked plainly.
“It was.” You responded quickly.
“And you said that meant there were no boys allowed.” Regulus continued as Remus spat and rinsed.
“Right.” You agreed.
Regulus sighed in exasperation. “Then why was Barty there?” He deadpanned, cautiously resuming clearing the makeup from your skin.
You scoffed dismissively. “Barty doesn’t count.”
“Why doesn’t Barty count?” Remus asked, though he clearly found this conversation to be much funnier than his boyfriend did.
“Just doesn’t.” You said with a shrug, sleep stretching the vowels out funnily as you swayed slightly with your eyes closed.
“Well...that’s just not fair.” Regulus said simply, discarding the makeup remover wipe. Remus pouted commiseratively at your dejected face at the sudden loss of Regulus.
Remus was quick to correct that as he wet a washcloth and grabbed your facewash.
It was a very awkward way to wash your face in this way, but Remus was more than happy to have another excuse to touch you – he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he missed you while you were out. 
“And did everyone else have fun, dovey?” Remus asked as Regulus took his turn to brush his teeth.
“Mhm. We went to three different pubs, and we danced, and we even sang karaoke at one of them! And then Barty would scare away the guys who tried to dance with us, which was very nice of him.”
Remus beamed at you even though your eyes were closed as he massaged the cleanser into your face.
“That was very nice of him, remind me to thank him next time I see him.” Remus replied, shooting Regulus a cheeky wink.
Regulus rolled his eyes and finished brushing his teeth, letting out a long-suffering sigh as he “supposed Barty could attend girl’s night if he really wanted to.” 
You named all the songs (that you could remember) that you had danced to or sung tonight as Remus and Regulus helped you finish your skin care routine and climb into bed.
“Oh! And then we played this drinking game called Medusa, where you all look up at the group at the same time, and if you make eye contact with someone you have to shout Medusa and drink!” You mumbled excitedly as you snuggled into Remus who was curled up behind you and you pulled Regulus’ arm into your chest like you were snuggling a teddy bear.
Remus could see Regulus’ lovesick smile as he used his thumb to move some of your hair away from your forehead.
“Yeah? Who lost?”
“Barty.” You answered quickly.
Regulus’ eyebrows furrowed but the corners of his mouth twitched in the ghost of a smile.
“Every time?”
“Yeah.”
“How’d you guys manage that?” Remus interjected from behind you, placing a kiss on your shoulder.
“We all decided to look at Barty every time we looked up, that way he’d always be looking at someone and he’d always have to drink.” 
Remus let out a boisterous laugh as Regulus chuckled and pulled your hands to his lips in order to kiss your knuckles.
“You girls are menaces.”
“Yeah.” You agreed on an exhale, melting into the mattress as sleep pulled at your consciousness. 
“Perhaps it’s better we don’t get invited to girl’s night, yeah Reg?” Remus mused quietly over your head, reaching out to caress Regulus’ face.
“Better Barty than me, I suppose.” Regulus mused, pressing a kiss to Remus’ palm before reaching over to turn off the lamp.
You must’ve already been close to sleep because you whimpered pitifully at the loss of Regulus. 
“No, no, amour. I’m right here, tu vas bien.” He cooed quietly, pulling your arms back into his chest. “I love you.” He whispered, punctuating the sentiment with a kiss to your nose.
But you were already asleep. 
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lowkeyrobin · 3 days
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HII so I was reading your who you write for and saw you write for Charlie Bushnell, so I was wondering if I could get like reader and Charlie at like the an interview???
Thank you -🍄
hell yeah of course 🙏🙏 ; thank you 🍄anon, hope you enjoy 🫶🫶 ; i dunno how but this got a little off topic?? I apologize
CHARLIE BUSHNELL ; the interview
summary ; youre a journalist, he's an actor
warnings ; language, little cringe kissing scene (totally sfw dw)
disclaimers ; I said "scandalous ankles" because back in the olden days ankles and showing any skin was considered scandalous, for anyone who didn't know. reader is described to be not into fitness stuff, also don't mind me not knowing shit about fitness/weightlifting
word count ; 883
masterlist
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"Hi, welc-hum inside." You smile, waving to Charlie as he enters the room. You then cringe at yourself in embarrassment. "Sorry, hi, welcome." You awkwardly chuckle, "I apologize, my words are all tangled today"
"You're good" He waves, a comforting smile on his face. He wears a black t-shirt with a logo in the corner and design on the back, paired with some jorts and sneakers like he just came from the gym. You didn't mind though, you urged your guests to come comfortable over casual.
Video interviews that weren't in front of a live crowd were the best for both of you, thank God. Meeting this Godsend of a man nearly gave you a heart attack. Just looking at his gorgeous eyes and his perfect features, nothing was wrong with him whatsoever. He was genuinely a 10/10.
He sits down in the guest chair across from yours, watching you sift through a desk a few feet away, looking for something. Your dress pants rise at the ankles every time you make a step, revealing more of your scandalous ankles, covered by socks.
You finally sit down, apologizing for taking so long to find your notebook where you held a few questions and conversation starters. The cameras begin rolling, and you introduce yourself and Charlie as per usual.
"So, what's it like being on set, with all the cameras, lights, props, and green screens? What are the action scenes like?"
Charlie lightly smiles as he gives you an answer, using his hands to talk a little bit. He seemed a little tense and nervous, but you didn't point it out or blame him, it took you years to be fully comfortable where you sat.
"What even are you? Cause like, you're an interviewer but also a journalist, what do you prefer being called?" The curly haired boy asks you.
You shrug, "Journalist, I guess. Interviewer could be put like, inside the circle of journalism, I'd say. I'm a journalist before I'm an interviewer"
He nods, giving you a gorgeous smile that you had to quickly look away for. You discreetly hide your flushed face, looking down at your notebook.
You write down some memorable quotes as you sit and chat with him, bringing up some interesting conversation and learning more about being on set and the production behind media.
After the cameras are off, you thank him and invite him to stay for some aftertalk and lunch. You came in with a large bowl of taco salad you needed to finish before it went bad and were offering it to anyone who wanted it. He accepts the offer, staying back in the break room with you to eat some of that salad you'd brought in. In his words, it was very much better than whatever fast food he was going to go get before returning home.
Your conversation quickly turns into one regarding music and working out, although you weren't too into fitness, the occasional jog here and there keeping you healthy, apparently.
You both stand up, setting your bowls and forks in the dishwasher to get them cleaned. You stand against the counter as he leans his hand against it a couple feet away.
He pulls up his t-shirt sleeve, flexing his arm to show off his muscles. He's trying to impress you, mostly, but you had asked how frequently he worked out. Not his fault.
"Usually lift about 145"
You nod, paying more attention to his face than his muscles. Not exactly your question, but you'd take it.
"You okay?" He asks, seeing you zoned out staring at him.
"Yeah, sorry-"
"Am I that handsome to you?" He asks, lightly teasing you.
"Wh- I mean, hey now-"
He lightly giggles, stepping forward a bit.
You stare into his brown eyes, colored like a dark chocolate mocha. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, seeing your eyes almost glimmer as they stare into his.
He's just a guy, you're an interviewer, a journalist. This is weird, isn't it? Is it not?
"May I?..." He whispers, looking down at your lips, then up at your eyes.
Triangle Theory.
You nod, a soft smile painting your face.
He quickly embraces your lips with his, hands resting on your waist. You melt into his kiss, your bodies tied together. He picks you up, hands resting behind your thighs, placing you on the counter.
You quickly pull away, hands on his shoulders as he stands between your legs. "Okay, what the fuck? Do that again"
He smiles, looking up at you. His arms are now loosely wrapped around your hips and waist area, his curls falling into place like dominoes.
"You're an interesting one"
"Says you, actor guy"
"Don't try and play me at my own game"
You open your mouth to speak, but shut yourself up, seeing the smug look on his face.
He holds your left hand in his right, a slight panic running through both of your heads as he rubs your knuckles with his thumb.
You speak up now, finding your stomach filled with butterflies.
"You make me want to grab a dictionary and manually find the words I'm looking for to describe you and how attractive that was."
He lightly laughs, kissing your hand.
"Whatever you say, journalist"
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disneyprincemuke · 2 days
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a feeling so peculiar * fem!driver
the new season is finally starting and it doesn't start out as great as she'd expected
pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, mick schumacher x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, liam lawson x fem!driver
notes: whatever is on the masterlist for the 2025 season is all i'm going to write for the 2025 season (i think) and it's all angst so sry in advance
(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)
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for starters, she’s never been shy of being on the receiving end of bad news. or devastating news, or ones that feel earth-shattering.
she knows that because growing up in a male-dominated scene has prepared her for that. people used to tell her to give it up because she wouldn’t get anywhere with it, or not to get her hopes up expecting something from a place where she’s clearly not wanted.
but she’s made it this far to formula 1. with her best friends.
her first year in the sport, she climbed to a mere 6th place and ended 4th in her sophomore year. just months ago when the 2024 season had wrapped up, she was on top of the world. a woman in the top 5 of the driver’s championship — it’s definitely something.
to her, she expected that the only way was up.
she could not have been more wrong about that.
the lights have just gone out, the cars on the grid have just skidded off for the evening and she’s… in the garage? in liam’s garage, to be exact.
noise-cancelling headphones on her ears as she stares dreamily into the screen of data of liam’s car. realistically, she should be helping out because she’s always been big on numbers, but not today. something didn’t feel right.
she’d been so excited all winter break to get back into the car, hopping from all the adrenaline and glory she put in her pocket from the year before. only for her car to have an irreversible problem that would force her out of the race before it even began.
she didn’t even have a chance to participate in the first race of the season. no way to shut down all of the unwanted background noise of the critics of her involvement still in the sport.
“hey.” she feels a bump against her hip, flinching at the sudden intrusion of her thoughts. “brought you ice cream.”
her eyes flutter close and a sigh of relief passes her lips. she smiles and takes a small cup into her hands. “i was wondering where you’d run off to.”
matt grins. “you looked pretty upset so i went ahead and got you some ice cream. does it at least make you feel a little better?”
“yeah, a little,” she says softly, pursing her lips. “thank you.”
but there’s still a yearning in her chest to be the one in the car to race tonight. that’s not fair — how come liam gets to race this weekend and she doesn’t?
she thought about politely asking for his car, but she couldn’t get herself to do that to him. he’s now become one of her best friends after all.
“rocky.”
she tilts her head at the call of her name, turning around to meet a familiar pair of eyes. one that she’s honestly been avoiding all day from the turnout of the weekend.
sebastian had been the one to break the news to her: that she wouldn’t be able to participate in the race due to a fault in the car. she had simply nodded while tears formed in her eyes and turned to walk away from him.
if you were to ask sebastian, the lack of a response from her scared him.
“ice cream?” the girl offers with a small smile, extending her hand towards him.
sebastian glances down at the ice cream before lifting his hand to reveal a cup of himself. “matt got me a cup too,” he admits with a small grin. “i just wanted to check if you’re okay. with the car and the pulling out of the race…”
she smiles politely, lips pressed into a thin line. what exactly is she supposed to say to someone who doesn’t really have anything to do with the development of the car? well, he does have involvement in it — being a retired world champion warrants that kind of valuable input — but she hardly believes it’s his fault.
“it’s okay,” she says softly, feeding herself another spoonful of ice cream. she blinks as her answer registers in her head. she shakes her head with a small laugh. “i mean– i’m okay. it’s just one race.” she glances at matt, standing next to her. “right?”
matt blinks at her. caught off-guard by her sudden want of his opinion; he’s an actor, not a race car driver. he only knows more about one of the two and it’s the answer that his girlfriend wants to hear. so he nods, “right.”
she turns back to sebastian. “a little frustrating,” she shrugs, “but things like this happen. that’s what you always say.”
sebastian smiles. “you learn quick, kid,” he pats her head endearingly. “that’s a good grasp of the concept. you’ll be back on the track next week good as new, i promise.”
she nods, forcing herself to swallow down the words that sebastian spoke to her. but there’s a churning in her stomach that she cannot seem to ignore as she feels her appetite come to a halt suddenly.
she huffs softly as she turns back to the screen. things like this happen, she repeats in her head. surely it can’t get any worse than this.
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so it apparently can get worse.
she sits in the car slightly longer than she needs, eyes staring intensely at the steering wheel in her hands.
something’s not right, something’s off. something doesn’t feel okay.
she wants to blame something — rather someone — that isn’t the car. perhaps, she’s suddenly become the problem without her knowledge? it feels like something has shifted in the air recently because nothing seems to go her way anymore.
“is everything okay?”
she flinches at the sudden voice that fills her ears, reminded that she’s still sitting in her car in parc ferme. “yes,” she answers softly at first, “yeah. i’m okay. sorry. it was just a long race. i’m quite exhausted.”
“copy. let me know if you need help, okay? or if you need to talk. it was a tough race.”
a finish out of the points feels so foreign to her. to be two races into the new season and not be in the top 10 of the driver’s championship. this time last year, she was at least in the top 8 in the standings by the second race of the season.
not this time.
but a slow start isn’t so unheard of for her. it feels like the only thing she can do now is hope that everything gets better eventually. it can’t stay like this all year, right?
when she does arrive at her garage, though, it seems that sebastian is not the only one concerned about her first finish out of the points in almost a year. a crowd has formed in her garage, her friends all staring at her cautiously as they await to see the big reaction that they’ve been expecting from her.
“what?” she asks softly, putting her helmet down on one of the vacant tables. “why are you all staring at me like that?”
the silence doesn’t stop. eyes dart all over the garage, some avoiding her gaze and some staring right at her every couple of seconds.
logan is the first to step forward; the boost from mick prompting an annoyed click of his tongue as he throws his arms into the air. “you uh,” logan blinks at her, “didn’t finish in the points today. how are you feeling?”
she blinks back at him. “i’m,” she trails off and catches oscar’s stare, to which he immediately looks away, “okay?” she tilts her head and furrows her eyebrows. “are you guys okay? you’re acting kind of… weird.”
her friends’ consideration for her feelings during this trying time is valid. once upon a time, she couldn’t handle the outcome of her not finishing in the points. she just had — has — so much to prove.
but it’s just one time out of her many races.
liam smiles. “we’re just concerned.”
“well your concern is concerning,” she laughs sheepishly, now tearing the velcro from her neck and unzipping her race suit. “i’m 22 — i can handle my emotions when i finish outside of the points. also, not my first time.”
a lie. she actually wants to start throwing things around. perhaps the steering wheel since it’s the only part of the car that she could actually detach and yank around, unlike others.
but it’s just one race.
“yeah, but we’re just saying,” mick speaks with a smile, “if you need to scream and cry and vent because you were out of the points — you can talk to us.”
“i won’t even take it personally if it was because of the team orders,” liam adds with a grin. “you know what? i’ll even scream with you.”
there’s only one person she wants to scream with right now, and it’s the only person that isn’t directly involved in whatever the hell this is.
“as will i,” logan presses his lips together, “i feel like i need to scream into the void until my lungs give out actually.”
she runs a hand through her hair. “i’m okay,” she holds her hands in the air to stop any more chatter from her friends who decided they know her better than herself. “let’s freshen up and regroup at the mclaren camp. ice cream, right? maybe dinner? oscar made podium — we need to celebrate!”
oscar shakes his head, taking a step forward. “we really don’t have to. it’s okay, it’s not even a big deal.”
“no,” she says firmly, head snapping over to the australian. oscar flinches back at the way she’d turn to him with his hand pressed against his chest. it’s silly that after all these years, he still tries to minimise achievements when she’s not had the share of the glory. “i’ll see you guys in a bit. 40 minutes?” she looks around. “where’s matt?”
“in my garage getting ice cream,” mick smiles. “40 minutes, right?”
“yes,” she mutters, quickly dismissing them as she heads for the exit to the paddocks. “i’ll see you then.”
the air feels thick when she steps into the paddocks. the whispers are louder than they used to be and the stares are boring holes into her again.
a heavy sigh passes her lips as she picks up her feet into a run, heading straight for her racing home. she just needs to be alone; be by herself.
because surely, it can’t get worse than this.
right?
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taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @mclarengf @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool
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daydreaming-nerd · 1 day
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OMG I need pregnant reader x bat boys
That first one was so good thank you for that!! 🩷🩷
Pregnant Reader x Bat Boys (drabble)
This is part 2 to You Want A Baby?
AN: Ahh this was so highly requested I'm sorry it took so long. Also i've never really done a drabble and this is defiantly too long but I wanted to feed y'all as best I could.
Warnings: Pregnancy (duh), child birth, talks of sex?, not proof read (sry after writing Young Love Old Money 5 last night my hands hurt)
Of course your mates got you pregnant on the first try. They were the three most powerful males in the Night Court.
The day you found out was like any other, you were quietly reading while Cassian and Azriel were in Windhaven and Rhys was busy doing paperwork.
The sickness had been building all day and at finally come to it's precipice.
After about an hour of throwing up you went to see Madja who confirmed you were indeed pregnant.
You wanted to run home and tell Rhys right away but it didn't seem fair to your other two mates
So you warded yourself to keep your scent hidden and waited till Azriel and Cassian got home.
You sat on the edge of the bed the waiting for the boys to come to bed, clad in nothing but my black silk nightgown (this one was a present from Rhys)
The boys stalked in and the picture of me sitting innocently on our shared bed had them taking their shirts off.
It wasn't uncommon for you all to release built up tension after a long hard day, especially when the boys had to deal with Devlon.
"Wait there's something I wanna show you first," you smile standing up.
"Something you want to show us?" Rhys laughed knowing that when it came to the bedroom it was often the other way around.
You couldn't keep from smirking as you let the ward around me drop, my scent filling the room.
They inhaled long and slow before their eyes snapped open.
"You're?" Azriel asked.
"Pregnant," you smile watching as a million emotions float across their faces.
A beat of silence passes and then...
"WOOO HOOO!" Cassian roared. "We did it brothers!" he boasted clapping each of them on the back.
All of them came over to me to give me sniff, as if your new scent was addicting. You had to crane your neck up to meet all their happy faces.
"How far along are you?" Rhys asked caressing my face.
"Not very, only 6 weeks," you. smile feeling their warm hands roam my body.
"Well you certainly smell good," Azriel smiles burying his nose in my hair.
"Really?" you ask.
"YES," they all said in unison.
Cassian's hands find the hem of the night gown and start to lift it up peering underneath curiously.
"Cassain if you even think about putting your dick anywhere near her right now I will fucking kill you," Rhys growls.
"I'm not I'm trying to see if she's showing yet," Cassian said, eyes squinting.
"Cass it's too early for her to be showing," Azriel laughed at his brothers antics.
"Well she defiantly is, take a look." Cassian smiled pulling me flush to him and lifting my nightgown more so his brothers could see.
Rhys and Azriel squinted their eyes, clearly trying to see what wasn't there as Cass slid a hand over my belly.
"Cassian darling I think that's just my dinner," you laugh.
"speaking of dinner did you eat enough?" Rhys asked.
and so it began.
Ever since the boys had found out all chaos had erupted.
At first they wanted you to stay in the townhouse at all times. Literally locking you up and throwing away the key
That idea took you a long time to talk them out of but eventually you did.
Then came Rhys arguing that you needed at least 5 wards. Which Cassian and Azriel objected to as they wanted full access to you AND the baby.
Evetually you all settled on one ward. Strong enough to keep threats at bay, but weak enough so Cass and Az could touch you and your bump whenever they liked.
Speaking of bump, Cassian was determined to do a bump update everyday.
The man was DYING to see you with a bump.
"You think the baby will have wings?" you asked innocently while we all laid in bed.
Every night it was a fight for who got to sleep next to you as you unfortunately had an odd number of mates.
"Of course it'll have wings, look at it's fathers," Azriel smirked rubbing a hand over your belly.
"I don't know I wasn't in my Illyrian form when it was conceived," Rhysand states, his words reverberation through me from where my head was perched on his chest.
"Pfft please, I already told you it's mine," Cassian boasted from behind Rhys, clearly being an instigator since he wasn't getting to sleep next to me tonight.
"Cassian," Azriel warns.
"I know , I know. We don't care who got her knocked up just so long as she IS knocked up," Cassian smirks.
"Okay but what if the baby doesn't have wings?" I ask once more.
"Then we'll fuck another one into you until you have one that does," Rhys smiled pressing a kiss to my brow
"Oh we're putting another one in her either way. I want a whole litter of children." Cassian divuldged.
"You want that princess?" Azriel asked rubbing lazy circles over my barley there bump.
"Yeah I think I do." I smile.
The boys were territorial when you were barley showing, but the second the numerous dresses Rhys bought you couldn't cover the bump that's when things got scary.
The shadows. The fucking shadows
They were fucking everywhere.
Azriel had been freaking out ever since your guys walk the other day.
You had been taking in the fresh air of spring when a unknowing passerby slammed into you nearly knocking you over.
"WATCH IT!" Azriel screamed in his face his grip on the mans shirt like a vice.
The poor shopkeeper just about wet himself before running off.
"Now was that really necessary?" you asked, crumbs falling out of your mouth from the 3rd chocolate croissant you had eaten that day.
"He nearly knocked down my pregnant mate, he's lucky I let him off with a warning," Azriel murmured clearly still pissed.
"You Illyrian babies," I roll my eyes finsishing off the croissant.
Azriel just sighed and dug his hand into the paper sack to pull out my 4th pastry.
Ever since then his shadows seemed to follow you everywhere.
If you dropped something? The shadows would pick it up.
If you had troubles walking? there was always a dark mass helping you to the bathroom for the 10th time that day.
Every time the baby kicked? The shadows swirled around you to make sure you were okay.
And boy did that baby kick...
Cassian was the first to feel it.
It was a rainy night at home, Cassian was sleeping next to your belly whispering sweet nothings to it when it happened. He nearly jumped out of his skin, and you nearly did too from the pain.
"Ahh!" you hissed in pain.
"Darling what is it? Are you hurt?" Rhys fussed, leaving his desk to be there in an instant.
"What did you do?" Azriel growled at Cassian who was still staring wide eyed at your bump.
"I'm fine he didn't do anything. The baby is just kicking." I grit out feeling another thump.
I blindly reach out and grab one of my mates hands and press it to my stomach.
I watched as the scarred hand flinched at the kick.
"Oh my god I can feel it," Azriel beamed, his eyes glassing over.
"Move I want to feel," Rhys ordered
Azriel was too hypotized to care.
"I am your High Lord, move" Rhys ordered once more and I swear the room shook.
"I'm getting kinda tired of that phrase too aren't you Cass?" Azriel rolled his eyes.
"Yeah she's our mate too," cassian grumbled.
They spent the night taking turns getting to feel the baby which became a nightly occurrence.
Out of all your mates Rhys was the most doting. He had an entire wing built onto the townhouse for the baby.
He even used his magic to enchant the ceiling of the nursery to look like the night sky so it would be starfall in there every night.
Rhys didn't like to admit it, but he loved baby shopping with you.
"Oh Rhys look at this one can we get it?" you smile holding up a little onesie.
"Yes darling of course," he chuckled in amusement, he had probably heard that phrase a million times.
Your eyes scanned the shop of onesies and cribs, you already nearly everything in the store. But the shop owner always made sure to let you know when there was a new shipment as she knew Rhys would buy his pregnant mate just about anything she asked for.
"Oh my god Rhys please the baby is going to need this," I shout holding up the bat plushy. "Please, please, please, pleaseeeee"
Rhys laughs walking over to me to take my hands in his.
"Darling how many times do I have to tell you? You can have whatever you want." he smiles placing a hand on my bump and pressing a kiss to my forehead.
Fae labor was no joke, there wasn't a single aspect that didn't hurt like hell.
Rhys didn't send Cassian or Azriel away on any missions in the weeks leading up to your due date so they could be there.
Your water broke when you were standing in the kitchen reaching for a glass on the top shelf.
The scream you let out is enough to have Cassian running in from the other room.
"What is it princess? Are you okay?" He asked kneeling down to where I sat on the floor.
"The baby is coming," I winced through the pain, taking Cassian's hand in mine and squeezing with all my might.
That was the good thing about having big, strong Illyrian's as mates. They were fucking durable.
"oh shit," Cassain murmered his eyes searching for some kind of answer of what to do. "RHYS! AZRIEL! THE BABY IS COMING!"
My other two mates winnowed there are lighting speed from where ever they were in the house.
It wasn't long until Rhys had me in his arms winnowing us all to Madja.
"Help her please," he pleaded, my cries of pain clearly affecting him.
Madja had Rhys bring me into the birthing suite and lay me down. I could see the worry on all my mates eyes as they watched me write in pain, sweat grazing my brow.
"How can we help?" Azriel pleaded.
"You can't, you must leave us to work," she said referring to the other healers already pressing cold towels to my face.
"Over my dead body do I leave her side right now," Cassian grumbled.
"Do you want her to die? You'll only be in the way general. Use your head." she argued ushering them out and locking the doors.
The hours in between the closing of the doors and finally giving birth were brutal, not only for yo but for your mates.
They sat outside the door and listened to your screams the entire time.
Azriel nearly ripped his hair out from the sounds of them.
They nearly jumped to their feet at the sound of a baby crying from inside.
But then they heard you a screaming again.
Any happiness died out.
After a few minutes they heard the baby crying again and your screams stopped.
15 minutes later Madja came out holding not one but two small bundles in her arms.
"congratulations, you are the proud fathers of two healthy baby boys," she beamed.
Twins
Rhys and Cassian took the twin boys in their arms, as Azriel was too scared to touch them at first.
"They have wings," Cassian beamed running his hand over the tiny wings.
"Is she?" Rhys asked Madja.
"The mother is perfectly healthy. She needs to nurse the babies, but she insisted that I bring them to you first." Madja smiled.
"can we see her?" Azriel asked.
"Of course you can," Madja said.
The boys carried the twin babies in to see you once more.
You reached out your hands for the one in Rhys arms, the oldest, by a few minutes. He gave him to you and thankfully he latched right away.
"You did so well mate," Azriel said placing a kiss on your forehead.
"How did you boys manage to put twins in me on the first try?" You rasped out, voice still horse.
"If you recall it was no small feat," Cassain smiled.
After feeding them both you slept soundly.
While Cassain and Rhys might've been the first to hold your sons, Azriel was the first one to fall asleep with them. One in each arm.
Taglist: @crystalferret202, @nickishadow139, @eerievixen, @why4anne, @loglady00, @heartless-tate, @callsigns-haze, @fxckmiup, @highladyivy, @highladyivy
Permanent taglist: @fides25
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lizzie-boo · 1 day
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Baby, You're My Type
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Eddie Munson x GN!Reader
Words: 804
Summary: When someone unexpected asks you on a date it brings some new information to light. And long-overdue conversations are had.
A/N: Slowly getting back into writing, I'm very rusty so please bear with me. Hope you enjoy it. I should have a few more small fics coming out in the next few days while I still have some time off.
The Hellfire club was just finishing up a section of their campaign when you burst through the door, eager to share your news. You throw yourself into an open seat, leg bouncing as you wait for Eddie to stop talking. You lean over the table, fingers tapping as you stare at your best friend. 
As soon as he closes his mouth the words were spilling out, “The funniest thing ever just happened.” 
Everyone begins packing their things and Eddie quirks a brow in your direction. When all you do is stare at him with a wide grin he gestures for you to continue. 
“Jason just asked me on a date,” you laugh as the rest of the room goes quiet. The older members of the group are quick to rush out the door not wanting to see where this conversation goes. Dustin on the other hand stops shoving papers into his backpack and settles in, ready to watch the drama. 
Lucas and Mike tug at his arms, not wanting to stick around longer than necessary. “Let’s go,” Mike hisses. His eyes darting between you and Eddie.  
"Now," Lucas urges.
“I want to see how this plays out,” Dustin whines, catching your attention. Your laughing dies as you take in the worried look of the younger group members and realize that maybe your news wasn’t as funny as you thought. 
“You should go out with him.” You whip around, eyes wide. The click of the door behind you is all you need to let you know that only you and Eddie are left to finish this conversation. 
You open and close your mouth, trying to figure out the right combination of words. Something that will get through to Eddie and let him know just how ridiculous he is being. Before you can find the words Eddie continues, “I mean you do seem excited about it.” 
Finally you stand up and make your way toward him, leaning on the table just in front of his chair.  Your fingers wrap around the edge of the table, gripping it tight. 
“I was only excited to share the news because it’s crazy and I found it funny.” 
“I don’t see what would be that funny about it.” He leans forward in his seat. The small gap between you grows smaller but neither of you back down. The smell of his cheap cologne floods your senses and for a moment you forget what you are talking about. 
“He’s not my type, not even close to my type. Everyone knows that, so it’s funny that he thought he would ever have a chance.” The way you lips quirk up at the end of your sentence is not missed by Eddie. His eyes practically glued to your lips as you speak. 
“Are you sure, he seems like he would be your type.” There’s an edge to his voice that has you gripping the table harder. How can he still think that you would be into someone like Jason when you have always made it clear that you would never be caught dead with someone that arrogant. 
You chew on your lip, contemplating if you really want to say what you’re about to. Taking a deep breath you tell Eddie, “My type is metalheads, with crazy hair, tattoos, and a love for nerdy things like dungeons and dragons.” 
He taps his fingers against the arm of his chair, pretending to think about your revelation. You scan the room, trying to find anything to hold your attention so you can avoid looking at Eddie. 
“I thought you said everyone knew your type, but I never knew that’s what you’re into.” He stands from his chair inching ever closer. His warm breath hits your face and finally you turn your gaze back to him. 
Your heart flutters as you take him in up close. Mustering all the courage in you, you tell him, “I made it painfully obvious for so long, but in case you still can’t see it this should help.” 
He quirks a brow at your cryptic words and you bunch your hands in his shirt pulling him closer. Pressing your lips into his you let out all the pent up emotion you have been holding in. His arm slips around your waist pulling you closer as his other slides up to cup your cheek. 
When you pull back, you can’t help but to smile. “In case it still wasn’t clear, you’re my type Eddie, just you.” 
“Hmm, I never would’ve guessed,” he jokes. “That’s good though, ‘cause baby, you're my type too.” 
Lifting you slightly he sets you fully on the table intent on making up for lost time. As your lips find his you wrap your legs around his waist and get lost in the happiness of finally being with Eddie.
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carmyboobear · 3 days
Text
Blood Orange (Ch 1: The Walk-In)
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Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)
Rating: E (7.3k words)
links: fic playlist, pinterest board, ao3 link
Summary: Losing your job is the worst thing to ever happen to you. Getting hired by Carmen Berzatto is a close second. You tell yourself that The Beef is only temporary, that it's just a replacement until you find something better. It doesn't work. You've stopped listening. You've had a taste of Carmy, and now you don't think you're ever gonna be able to let go. No matter how bad it gets. 
Content Tags: secret workplace relationship/sex, friends/coworkers with benefits, they/them afab reader, miscommunication, mental illness (carmy and reader), dom/sub dynamics, dom carmy (for now), enemies to friends to lovers (eventually), unhealthy coping mechanisms, dysfunctional relationship
A/N: It's finally here! New series! We even get sex in the first chapter! In my other fic, I'm taking care of Carmy. In this one, I'm making him worse. Of course, here's a disclaimer that I DON’T condone or intend to glorify any of this behavior. It's just compelling to write. Enjoy!
You return to The Beef for the first time in years when you're at your lowest.
The only upside to this abysmal situation is that the job was shitty. The job you just got laid off from, to be exact. Retail was never your passion, and there's a certain relief in knowing you don't have to go back to that windowless place. You didn't play an important role in the ecosystem, but it played a pretty crucial role in yours. It kept a roof over your head.
You're sure you could’ve sued them in some fashion for letting you go without any warning, any parachute, but you didn't have the luxury of time. You needed to figure out how you were going to pay rent, and fast.
After the rage boiled over (not to say that it's resolved, the residual anger's leveled into an even simmer), you pulled your hair back, found your cleanest, nicest outfit, and started your job search. With your updated resume in hand and scuffed sneakers on your feet, you've trekked all over Chicago looking for a new job. You weren't optimistic, nor were you hopeful. 
You suppose the only word you could use to describe yourself was desperate, and it was a matter of finding someone that was just as desperate, if not more desperate than you. To put it politely, the odds of that were low. Very low. 
You got laid off that very morning. The rest of your afternoon has been spent walking from door to door to every establishment you could spot. By some cruel twist of fate, none of them were hiring. The ones that were hiring looked unenthusiastic, even adverse to taking your resume. 
“When would you be able to start?” Some of the workers asked. 
“Tomorrow,” was your desperately honest answer. 
“If all goes well, you'll hear from us in a week,” was their response. The unspoken was, of course, the fact that radio silence was more likely than an email or phone call. Places didn't even send rejection letters anymore. 
“Thanks for your time,” you'd say, bringing out a bright smile from a complete lack of reserves, and as soon as you turned around, your face would drop. 
Your hopes were low, nearly non-existent, but damn. Damn. It wasn't looking good for you.
That's why you enter The Beef. You vaguely remember visiting this place a couple years ago, back when you first moved to Chicago. The owner was…pretty nice, actually. You don't remember his name, but you remember having a pleasant conversation with him. Of course, there's nothing you can do if he doesn't have a job opening, but it wouldn't be bad to see a friendly face. Even if that face is from someone who's basically a stranger. 
The doorbell rings when you enter. It catches the attention of the man standing behind the counter, and with how his head jolts up, you'd think the bell functioned as an alarm instead. 
“Welcome,” he says. Your first impression, other than the fact that he seems very, very, tired, is that he's irritatingly attractive. If anything, the eyebags and the greased back waves only add to whatever the hell he's got going on. 
“Hi. Um…” You're briefly caught off guard by his biceps, but you catch yourself. “I was actually wondering if you guys were hiring.”
“We are,” he replies, and it's the best thing you've heard all day. He lights up like the spark of a lighter, bright and instantaneous. It doesn't shake the pervasive exhaustion that radiates off him, though. 
“Thank god,” you mutter, and you want to take it back (it's far too casual), but he cracks an amused smile that makes you want to dissolve like a pinch of salt in a sea of sauce. “Sorry. Do you mind if I talk to the owner? We met a while ago, and—”
“I'm the owner,” he interrupts, and any other words you had planned fall away.
“Sorry?” You repeat. “I swear it was this guy—he had short dark hair, I think—”
“Yeah, he left the place to me. Didn't want it anymore, so.” He shrugs. The light you just saw from him has fizzled away like the end of a sparkler, short-lived and ultimately disappointing. 
“Oh. Got it. Uh…” To your credit, you don't fumble for too long. You have a lot of questions, but you've got more pressing issues. You pluck out a resume from a file folder. “Here's my resume, then.”
He takes it from you, flips it to face him. He's quiet as his eyes lower down the page, and you wonder if it's going to be a guillotine or a pot of gold at the end of this. The only sounds in the entrance are the passing cars outside, the rickety air conditioning, and muffled chatter from the back. 
“You worked as a prep cook.” He says it like a fact, but you know it's a question. 
“Yeah, nothing fancy. Just at some chain restaurants.”
“Right. I see you worked as a line cook at another location. Which one did you prefer?”
“Uh…” They both came with their separate pains. Your honest answer is that being a line cook was one of the most stressful experiences of your life, but if he has a position open as a line cook, you don't want to fuck it up. “They were both fine. I think I was a little better as a prep cook, but I didn't mind either.”
He hums, satisfied by your answer. At least it’s only half of a lie.                                                                                                                    
“How do you work under pressure?”
“Good,” you answer quickly. “Well enough.”
“Willing to learn?”
“Obviously. I mean…” You think you see a flash of a smile, but you're unsure. “Yeah.”
“When'd you be able to start?” You're surprised he's already asking this.
“Tomorrow,” you say, just like you’ve been, and his reaction is different from the others. He nods. He doesn't smile, not like he did earlier, but you can tell this is a good sign. 
Before he can get a word out, there's a sharp, metallic explosion of noises that resounds from the direction of the kitchen. 
“Uh,” he starts, eyebrows pinched in irritation, the voices come in. 
“I told you, you have to say behind!” A woman's voice. She sounds young, but there's no real way to be sure of that.
“How the hell did you not hear me coming?” A Chicago accent, male. Older, maybe. “I was in the middle of having a conversation with Tina—”
“Great, I'm so happy for you, I don't give a shit, now this has all went to waste—”
“Well, who's fault is that?”
“Who's fault is that? You did not just—”
“Guys!” The man you've been talking to gives you an apologetic glance before walking to the back, pushing through the folding doors. You catch a glimpse of the two people arguing on the other side before it shuts. “I'm tryin’ to talk to a new hire here. We can't be like this right now. Not ever, but especially right now.”
Finally, the first sane person I've met all day, you think. 
“Carmy, talk some sense into her,” the older guy shouts, and it gives you a name to the face. “All of this on the floor—”
“You didn't say behind,” the woman repeats, except with more fury in it this time.
“You didn't say behind,” he imitates back. “Carmy—”
“She’s right. Richie, step out,” Carmy says. “Syd, you clean this up.”
“But—” You hear her start to protest. 
“You spilled it, you clean it,” he cuts through, decisive and firm.
“I know, but Richie—”
“Clean it,” he repeats, firmer, darker this time, and there's a beat of silence. 
“...Yes, chef.”
“I told you to step out,” Carmy tells who you assume is Richie. 
“You're just gonna let her—”
“Step the fuck outside right fucking now!” Carmy screams, his patience shooting away like a gunshot. You feel something shrivel inside you, and not in a good way. “Do the one fucking thing you're good at and get out of the fucking way!”
Yeah…definitely not in a good way.
From what you hear, it sounds like Richie has to get wrestled outside by someone, whom you're not sure. After another minute, Carmy returns to the front. 
“I'm sorry about that. Fucking—” He drags a hand across his face. You swear his eyebags have grown heavier in the 5 minutes he was in the kitchen. “What was I saying?”
“Um, I was saying that I could start tomorrow,” you remind him, although the vigor you had just stated it with is a bit fizzled out. 
“Right. Okay. Uh—” He pats his hands on his apron, searching for something. A pen and paper appear in his hands, and he scribbles something on it. This is when you notice his tattoos. A flower on the back of his hand. Surprising. “You're hired. Here's the paperwork you need to fill out, along with the number and email you'll be hearing from me at.”
“What?” You take the sheets, but the smooth paper doesn't feel real in your hands. His handwriting is hasty and dark, like he was running out of time on a test. “I mean, I'm just surprised.”
“Do you not want it?”
“I want it,” you promise, and you feel your cheeks flush. This is a bad time to yet again notice how attractive he is. His pretty eyes, his nose. The little moles under his left eye. “Y-Yeah, I want the job.”
“Good.” He motions towards the sticky note again. “Come in at 8 am tomorrow. You'll be starting as a prep cook, which you've done before.”
“Okay. Okay, yeah, I'll be there.” The reality is setting in now, and an odd cocktail of relief, apprehension, and excitement is settling in your stomach. “Thank you so much.” I just got laid off from my job this morning, so this means a lot, you want to say, but it's too soon. You don't want to say anything that'll make him change his mind about whatever he sees in you. 
“Thank you,” he echoes back. “We need the help. I'll see you tomorrow.”
“See you,” you reply, and with that, the door rings behind you. A customer comes up to the counter, peering up at the menu. You figure this is your cue to leave. He's not looking at you anymore anyway. 
So, I got a job now, you update your friends, texting them on your way home on the metro. As the relieved congratulations come flying in, another remark seems to resound amongst all of them. 
I can't believe you got the job just like that. That place must be desperate, too, is roughly what they've all said. The thing is, they're not wrong. 
You managed to find someone more desperate than you in the job economy. Just one, but that was enough. It makes you think, though. You think about Carmy's weary blue eyes, his brief smile, and his hand tattoos. You wonder if it's just the restaurant that gives him that bone-deep exhaustion, or if it's a smaller part of a bigger picture. 
You think about it for the rest of your commute, you think about it as you smoke on the porch, you think about it as you lay in bed. You think about it as you fill out the paperwork, fingers tracing where Carmy's written his name, number, and email.
Carmen Berzatto
773-555-0901
So Carmy's a nickname, you think. Not about what type of boss he's going to be, not about what it's going to be like working under someone you are obviously attracted to. 
Maybe you should be more worried about this.
If it's bad, I'll just find another job, you tell yourself, and you foolishly believe it.
. . . . .
Your first day on the job starts with introductions. 
At least, that's about as much as you've figured out so far. When he sees you upon arrival, he pauses and stares at you like he's forgotten. Not a great start. Granted, he does snap out of it. That's when he tells you to follow him, which is where you currently find yourself. You're not sure where he's leading to, only that he's introducing you to others as you pass them by.
“They’re working with us starting today,” Carmy tells everyone. “They’re gonna be on prep.”
Right. So that's what you'll be doing. At least he told you that much yesterday.
The catalog of coworkers expands exponentially. You remember Sydney from yesterday, and to her credit, she apologizes about having you witness her fight with Richie, who conveniently isn't here yet. She seems the nicest out of all the bunch, so you decide to let it slide. 
Marcus is pretty nice, too. So are Ebra, Sweeps, Manny, Angel—everyone seems to be pretty alright. It’s obvious they’re standoffish by you being in their space. You find it hard to hold it against them. You’re not really sure how your relationships with them are going to pan out. There are only three that you’re particularly unsure on.
The first and obvious one is Richie. He came in eventually and didn’t give you the best impression, immediately talking over everyone and oozing arrogance. The only salvageable thing is that he’s not even a chef. At least you won’t have to be in the kitchen with him much. You want to avoid the honor of talking to him as much as possible.
Tina is next. She clearly doesn’t enjoy having someone new in the ecosystem, and she’s spent more time ignoring you than talking with you. As you understand it, she’s close to the rest of the staff since they’ve all been together for a while. Minus you and Syd, as you learn she’s only been there for a week. You think Tina will warm up to you…eventually.
Carmy is the last one, and he’s…he’s…
He’s something else.
He has you doing prep for most of the day. After introducing you to everyone and giving you a brief tour, he brings you to your station, scratched up stainless steel.
“You’re going to be cutting onions and carrots today for the stock. The vegetables are in the walk-in I showed you earlier, and when it’s done, it goes on the first shelf.” Carmy’s to your right, set up at his own station. You swear you keep your eyes focused on the vegetables, not his biceps in that shirt, but… “You should already know this, but label everything. I don’t want to see anything without a date. Got it?”
“Yes, chef,” you confirm, snapping out of it. He’s been flinging new information at you like it’s a war and he’s gunning to survive. But so are you. “I’ll do my best.”
“I expect as such.” He slides over a peeler for the carrots and some plastic bins for trash. “It’s just a stock, so don’t worry about an even cut. Just salvage whatever you can, cut off anything that doesn’t look good.” You nod. “Been a year or so since you did this, right?”
“Yeah. I cook regularly, but I’ll need to get back into the groove of things. And I will,” you add hastily. “I’ll combine them into this one when I'm done, right?” You ask, nudging a large plastic container. 
“Correct.” A brief smile flashes across his face. “You're already following quicker than I thought you would.” You’re not sure if he means it as an insult or a compliment, so you decide to take it as the latter. 
“I haven't even chopped anything yet.”
“I know.” His expression is flat again. You resist a laugh.  He plucks an onion from the bin, puts it in front of you. “Show me a rough dice.”
The knife is sharp. You notice this as you place careful cuts into the onion. It's not quite as sharp as his unnerving gaze, which layers pressure upon pressure. It builds up like a pastry puff, thin multitudes of layers expanding upward. You need to be good. You need to be perfect. You don't want to disappoint him, not this early, even though you've barely been here for an hour. 
It's just a shitty old sandwich shop, you tell yourself, but your dicing is uneven and you briefly think about accidentally chopping your fingers off. 
“Not my best work,” you admit, vaguely breathless. Carmy hasn't said anything yet.
“It'll do.” You're waiting for him to say something else, give you some tips, but he doesn't. Irritation prickles to the tips of your fingers. “I'll be back to check in on you later.”
You stand there, motionless and shocked in the aftermath. You're not sure what you expected from today, but being abandoned an hour in was not at the top of your bucket list. 
Man, what the fuck, you think, the thought clear in the silence around you, and that's the last time you can hear yourself think for the rest of the shift. 
There's a prepared stock from yesterday simmering on the stove behind you. It's flanked by boiling potatoes and reducing tomato sauce. The heat from it’s searing your back like a steak, slowly drawing lines of moisture all over the surface of your shirt. Your coworkers constantly invade your space to check on them. You suppose it's not their fault that the kitchen, but it's still irritating. They're also all shouting over each other like it's a competition.
“Who the fuck touched my stock—”
“No one touched your stupid shitty stock—”
“I am trying to find this cutting board, will someone please—”
You move on from the onions with only a thin layer of sweat collected at your hairline. 
Your hands are shaky as they peel the carrots. You know you're not getting as efficient of a shave as you could be, but the caffeine crash from your morning coffee is getting to you. You don't remember the last time you drank water. A cigarette sounds nice. 
“Clean your station, chef.” Carmy materializes next to you. You hear him before you see his hands scooping carrot shavings into a plastic container. It shocks you so much that you almost cut yourself. 
“Sorry, chef,” you reply reflexively. You look down at your station, straightening your tools. You want to ask if you can take your break, but you don't want to look any weaker than you do already. “So, uh, do we get 30's here?”
When you don't get a response, your head snaps up, irritation on the tip of your tongue, but he's not even there. 
Fucking hell, you think, annoyance simmering into something akin to anger, and you go back to finishing your prep. 
You don't see him for another hour after that. It's not even him that tells you to take your 15, it's Syd, who noticed you were half-way through your shift and on the verge of…something. 
“You finished the prep he gave you, right?” Syd had asked. You told her you finished and put it back in the walk-in. “Yeah, then go take your break. Did he not tell you we get 15's here?”
“He didn't,” you say, too annoyed to bother hiding the disdain in your face. Sydney just sighs, rolling her eyes, and you think you love her. 
“Asshole.” She makes a shooing motion at you then. “Go, get a break from this madness. It'll get better, I promise.”
You're not sure if you believe her, but you do step outside to take your break. 
As you stand outside in the back, you take note of tightness in your body that you weren't even aware of. The cigarette smoke calms you, loosens you. Or maybe you owe that to getting out of that hot kitchen. 
This time, you see Carmy before you hear him. You turn to the door to see him stepping out, a pack of smokes in his hand. 
“Hey,” he says. 
“Hey,” you reply.
“Everythin’ goin’ okay so far?”
“Yeah. It's fine.” Other than everything.
“Really?” His surprise just pisses you off further. “Well, that's good.”
“...Yeah.” You decide if your mouth stays unoccupied, you'll start cussing him out, so you put your cigarette back in your mouth. 
“You're bleeding.”
“What?”
“I said, you're bleeding. Your hand.” 
You look down at your hand holding the cigarette, and sure enough, there's a thin, shallow cut oozing blood near one of your knuckles. 
“Shit,” you mutter, quickly sucking the skin into your mouth. When you pull it back, the red refills. “I didn't even notice.”
“Let's get a bandaid on that.” He puts his unlit cigarette back into his pack. “I have some in my office.”
That's how you end up in the enclosed, dark space of his office, seated on the only chair as he leans back against his cluttered desk. The dingy first-aid kit is propped on top of a shaky stack of papers. Carmy takes out a bandaid from it and peels it open.
“Thought I gave you a sharp knife, it shouldn't have cut you like that,” Carmy comments. 
“It was sharp,” you correct. “Guess I just fucked up.”
“It happens,” he says, which surprises you. He keeps surprising you. You just can't seem to figure him out. “Let me see the cut.”
You only realize that he's putting the bandaid on you when he cradles your hand in his. His hands are warm. 
He has so many hand tattoos. You notice the letters on his fingers first, the SOU curled around your palm. You notice the other tattoo on the back of his hand next, since that's the one carefully placing the bandaid on you. 
He wraps it around your finger just right. Not too tight, not too loose. 
“Is that too tight?” He asks, almost in a whisper. He's so close, and he smells like kitchen oil, cigarette smoke, and a faded cologne you can't place. 
“No, it's okay.” You don't mean to talk so quietly back, but you do. You can't stop staring at his fingers. They're long and marked up with silver scars and burns. If you look carefully, you can place the locations of his callouses. 
“Good.” You don’t know why he does it, but he runs his thumb across the seams of where your bandaid overlaps. Surely it’s just to secure it further…surely.
“Thank you.” He’s still holding your hand. You’re unsure if you’re imagining the tension in the air or not. Everything feels more intimate behind closed doors, especially in low light. “I could’ve done it myself.”
“It’s easier if another person does it.” He lets go, finally, and you try not to mourn the loss. “Did you finish prepping for the stock?”
“What you gave me, yeah.”
“Alright. Let’s go take a look at it, then,” he says, like that isn’t the most anxiety inducing thing you’ve ever heard. 
“R-Right now?”
“As opposed to?” He opens the door to his office, and the muffled noises in the kitchen become sharp and clear again, like emerging from underwater. “Come on.”
You don’t know how it happens, but Carmy gets into five separate arguments on the way to the walk-in. FIVE. To be fair, two of them are from Richie.
“I’ve been telling you guys to sharpen your knives, don’t fucking treat them like this,” Carmy shouts, trudging over to someone’s station. “You see this? This is exactly what we should not be doing! How many times have I said this today?! Don’t—“
“Stop going into my office when I’m not there,” Carmy hisses at Richie next. “You keep fucking up where the papers are put, and I can’t find anything! It’s enough of a mess as it is! No—I said—cousin, listen to me—“
“Everyone shut the hell up, clean your stations, and get the fuck back to work!” Is the last thing he shouts before slamming the door to the walk-in behind you. He slams it so hard the wire racks rattle. You decide not to comment. 
The difference in sound is eerie. You’re always surprised by how sound proof these walk-in fridges are.
“Is this the prep you did today?” Carmy asks, touching one of the clear plastic bins. Sure enough, it’s the one you placed there a moment ago.
“Yeah, it is.” You chew the inside of your cheek. You were hoping he would be in an okay mood when he checked your work. It seemed like he was at first, but now?
“It's on the wrong shelf.”
“What?” You stare at it sitting on the first shelf, just like he told you to. “You told me to put it on the first shelf.”
“It goes on the second shelf.” He's pissed, and there's ice in your veins. He huffs as he takes the container and moves it one shelf up, slamming it down unnecessarily. “I told you—second shelf.”
“You literally said it went on the first shelf.” The ice has melted, and it's boiling. 
“No, I didn't.” You wanna punch him. Badly. You know what you heard. “And you forgot to label it.”
“Shit.” That, you did forget. You’re not above owning up to your mistakes, unlike him. “I'm sorry, I was—”
“We always need stuff like this to be labeled,” he interrupts, rude and abrupt. You can hear the thinly veiled anger in his voice. “I told you.”
“I know, I just—“
“Don’t make excuses. Just do better.”
“It’s my first fucking day!” You snap, finally, and it’s like a firecracker in the dead of night. “I don’t expect to be coddled, but I’ve only been here for a couple hours, and you’re just—“
“I told you to put a label on it, to put it on the second shelf, and you didn’t do either of those things.” This is a different type of anger. It’s quiet, contained. Dangerous. And with your outburst, it’s trembling at the edges. 
“You literally hired me yesterday!” You’re exasperated. “You looked at my resume for like two seconds before hiring me, and you’re mad that I’m messing up?”
“You had enough credentials on your resume. You told me you could work well under pressure and learn quickly. Is that true or not?”
“It is true! You just have to give me a chance first!”
“I just gave you a chance,” Carmy snaps back, “and you fucked it up.”
“Oh my god. I just—“ You take a step back. “I don’t have to take this shit.”
“Are you quitting already?”
“I wasn’t going to.” You move towards the door. “But maybe I should, before you fire me. Doesn't seem like you want me, anyway.”
You were planning on exiting the walk-in after that, to leave on cue, but the door doesn’t budge. You and Carmy notice it at the same time. 
Suddenly, there is a new problem.
“Fuck,” Carmy curses under his breath. The two of you are pushing against the door, but it won’t budge. He slams his fist on it and calls out. “Guys, the walk-in door is stuck! Can any of you open it from out there?”
“Carmen?” Richie's voice is muffled from the other end. There's the sound of frustrated efforts on the other end. “It's not fuckin’ budging!”
“Fuck,” Carmy repeats, seething, and you agree. “Call Fak!”
“I already did! He’s gonna be here in 20!”
“20 minutes?!” Carmy shouts. You close your eyes and sigh, audibly. “Don't we have a screwdriver in here or something?! Just take the hinges off!”
“Why do you think I called Fak?! Shut the hell up and be patient!”
“Tell him to hurry the fuck up,” Carmy barks, and that's where their conversation ends. 
“Just what I needed right now,” you mutter under your breath. Carmy's not looking at you, eyes boring into the door that's trapping the both of you in here with each other. “To be locked in a room with you.”
It's quiet for a minute before he speaks, cutting the silence open.
“...I do want you, y'know.”
“You—huh?” He said it so quietly you're not sure if it was a hallucination. 
“We need you here.” He's still not looking at you. “This place—it's fucked.  We don't have enough hands.”
“I can tell,” you say, and you mean for it to come out bitter, but it's soft. Naively so. 
“I want you here. I do.” He doesn't need to say it like that. You don't want to believe it, neither his words or the way hearing it makes you feel. “I need you.”
“Can you at least look at me when you say it?” 
You’re not sure why you say it. You instantly recognize it for how needy it sounds, but you don't get the luxury of embarrassment. Carmy's already turning to face you. 
“I want you,” he repeats, voice low. You think about the paint you'd need to mix to match the color of his eyes. Blue, white, and the slightest bit of orange to desaturate it. You're not sure what type of orange, though. “I need you.”
“Fuck,” you mutter, despite yourself, and it's too late.
“Are you gonna do better?” You didn't even register him moving closer to you. When did your back end up against the shelves?
“I’m gonna do better,” you whisper, “if you stop being such an asshole.”
“It won't happen again,” he whispers back, and you recognize it for the lie that it is. 
You don't really care, though. 
His face is so close to yours that you can see the separate specks of colors in his iris. You watch his gaze fall from your eyes to your lips, and it lingers there before rising again. Any shreds of self respect or control you were clinging onto disintegrate. It doesn't matter if he really means what it says. All that matters is getting your mouth on his.  
“Okay,” you say, a whisper of foolish acceptance, and you're kissing him. 
Or is he kissing you? You don't know who leaned forward first. It's not important. 
“I saw you staring at my hands today,” Carmy says against your lips. Spit makes your mouths slide easily against each other. “Yesterday, too.”
“What the—no you didn't,” you gasp, appalled, heat rising in your face, “how did you—?”
“You're right. I didn't,” he admits with a cheeky grin. You’re really gonna punch him now. 
“God, you're just,” you mutter, “you're such an asshole.”
“I know.” At first, you think he's being smug, but there's a surprising sense of remorse under it. You don't have time to think about it, though, not when his hand is cradling your face. There's no way he doesn't feel how hot your face is. 
“What're you…?” His thumb passes over your lower lip, and the words fall away. 
“Tell me you want this.” Your eyes flicker to his hand, then to his face. His other hand is at the top of your jeans, fingers resting on the edge of your waistband. Excited arousal hits your gut, sizzling like browning butter, warm and toasted. His eyes are dark, caramel on the verge of burning. “If you don't, I'll pretend like this never happened. I'll never touch you again.”
I'll never touch you again, he says, like it's not the last thing you'll ever want. 
“I want this,” you murmur. “Touch me. Please.”
“Good,” Carmy praises, one quiet word enough to sear your insides with heat, blue flame on the underside of a pan. “That's what I thought.”
His hands slip behind you to untie your apron. The strings fall to your sides, and you tug it hastily up and over your head. It falls to the floor next to you. Surely that's a gigantic health hazard, but Carmy's the one who throws it there, so you don't say anything. You lower your gaze to his fingers unbuttoning your pants. The sight of it makes you woozy. You take note of his other tattoos, noticing the letters on his fingers. You watch as the stabbed hand made of ink on his right disappears under the cloth of your underwear.
“Oh,” you breathe. You didn't expect his hand to be so warm, even though you had just felt his heated palm gentle on your cheek.
“You're wet.” The tip of his index finger dips into where your hot folds separate. It strokes at the fluid that's pooled at your entrance, coaxing it out. “When did this happen?”
“Fuck you is when,” you bite back, but it's all bark. “I don't know.”
“Sure,” he agrees, but not really. His condescending smile shouldn't be hot, it really shouldn't, but your pussy throbs against his hand, and he smiles knowingly. “All you need is me to talk and you get wet, is that it?”
“I—” His finger rises upward, splitting you open and flicking at your clit. You buck against his hand. “Don't ask me a question and then touch me like that,” you hiss, horribly turned on.
“Mm, sorry.” It's barely an apology. You throw your head back in frustration. “I didn't mean to.”
“I have a hard time believing that,” you pant. He's pushed your slick up your pussy to your clit, two slick fingers sliding back and forth on your stiff nub. The pads of his calloused fingers are rubbing you almost where you're too sensitive. 
“Then don't. I don't care what you think of me.” You think he's about to get his fingers inside of you, and your breath hitches, but he pulls back. You regret the frustrated whine that is just audible enough in the back of your throat. He does it again, just barely pushing the tips of fingers in before pulling away.
“You—why—do you want me to beg or something?” Your clenched hands raise by your sides to grip the collar of his white shirt and yank him forward. The shock that flashes across his face gives you a sick sense of satisfaction.
“It wouldn't hurt,” he mumbles. Seeing him stagger like this, even if briefly, sends a rush through your head.
“Is that what it's gonna take for you to get those fucking fingers inside me?” 
Like a coward, instead of answering, he leans an inch forward and kisses you. Or maybe that was his answer. That's when he sinks two fingers inside you, long and thick, pushing until your wet pussy's pressed tight against his palm. 
You moan, a pathetic thing, and Carmy swallows the sound of it.
“You're already begging,” he says quietly. He pulls his fingers out. You whine in protest, desperate and angry pleas on the tip of your tongue, but then he's pushing inside again.
That's the last moment of reprieve you get. His fingers start thrusting into you faster, dragging out slick each time he pulls them out. Paranoia suddenly screams that you’re gonna wet the front of your pants at this rate. The aching pleasure is louder than your fear, though. You can’t help the way his fingers are making you moan.
“More,” you plead, “give me another, I can take it.” Your hips are thrusting forward to meet his hand when they push inside. Your clit slaps against the heel of his palm, and you chase the friction. He must notice, because when he obliges and stretches you out with a third finger, he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit.
“You have to be quiet,” he says lowly when you keep moaning. “They’re gonna hear you.” 
“I—I’m trying,” you whine. You’re squeezing so tight down on him. You feel so full. “Your fingers—“
“You’re the one who asked for more.” He slaps his other hands firmly over your mouth. It silences your sound of surprise. “You said you could take it, so here’s what’s gonna happen.” His fingers are slamming into your now, and your hole spasms around them in pleasure. “You’re gonna come on my fingers, and you’re gonna be quiet. Understand?”
You know how soundproof the walk-in is. You had just witnessed it moments ago. But Carmy’s warnings do something fierce to you, bypassing logic straight into anxious, desperate arousal. He’s right, you think. You need to be quiet. You nod quickly in response, so he takes your consent and sprints with it.
To your credit, you try to be quiet. You said you would. But there’s only so much you can do when he’s fingering you so hard your legs are shaking. You’re whimpering into his hand, the sounds muffled.  Your own moans, his heavy breathing, and the slick sound of your pussy getting railed by his fingers—that’s what you listen to as you come.
“Fuck, you’re squeezing down tight,” Carmy hisses, and for an irrational second  you’re afraid you’re hurting him, but one look at his starved expression changes your mind. His three wide fingers are fucking you slowly through your wildly contracting orgasm. In one of his palms, you're oozing slick, and in his other palm, you're smearing with spit.
You should be thinking about how bad of an idea this all is, having sex with your boss. It’s too bad your orgasm is so potent you can’t think at all.
You lean your head back against the cold metal railings of the wire racks behind you. It’s uncomfortable, but a part of it feels good against the coiling heat that’s unraveling in your stomach. The air around you is cold, but you’re hot, far too hot. You don’t remember the last time you’ve finished this hard.
He finally pries his hand off your mouth once you've stopped clamping down on his fingers. His hand lingers at your face before wiping it on the side of his jeans. His expression has this unreadable, unnamed intensity to it, and you can't tell where that ends and where the hunger starts. Although he is looking very, very starved.
His hand that's tucked into your underwear tugs it upward as it leaves, pulling the fabric taut against your pussy. It sticks like paper mache with the glue of your orgasm, molded to your shape. You make an aroused noise that's a mixture of surprise and annoyance.
You're about to complain, something along the lines of “was that really necessary”, but then your eyes are zeroed in on the sheen of his fingers that were fucking you.
“Don't,” you start, suddenly worried he's going to wipe them on his jeans again, but you don't get to finish. He's pushing his index finger into your mouth, and you taste yourself on his skin.
“Good,” Carmy whispers when he feels your tongue wrapping around him. Fuck, hearing him say it like that does awful things to you.
You don't know why you accept it without a fight, but if you're being honest with yourself, this is exactly what you wanted. You start to suck, but he doesn't linger. When he pulls his finger out, your parted lips expect the other two, but he sucks them into his mouth instead. 
God. What do you even say to that? He even has the nerve to look you in the eyes as he pops his cleaned fingers out of his mouth. 
“Let me touch you,” you decide to say instead, because if you think about him and his fingers in—anyway. 
“It's fine. I don't need it.” He's oddly cagey all of a sudden. 
“Let me return the favor, please,” you insist, even adding in some good manners. It seems to still him for a moment, giving you enough time to lift his apron.
Fuck, you think to yourself, the word resounding like an alarm inside your head. His jeans are tented so tightly it looks painful. All this from touching me, you realize. You can see the shape of his bulge under the denim. The silhouette is vague, but...
It's big.
“Carmy? You still in there?”
A voice you don't recognize calls out beyond the door. As soon as you both hear it, Carmy jerks away. You mourn the loss only for a moment before you remember yourself. You're scrambling to get your pants buttoned and your apron over your head. 
“Yeah, I'm still in here,” Carmy shouts back, instantaneously irritable. His back is turned to you, and you want to feel those muscles tensing under your palm. “About fuckin’ time!”
“You're welcome, by the way! I could've left you in here to freeze and die a tragic death!”
“It's not just me in here, Fak.” A beat of silence. “Are you opening it?”
“Am I fucking—Jesus Christ, Carmen, just give me a second! I'm working my magic!”
That shuts Carmy up. Almost. He sighs before turning to look at you. 
“Sorry for getting us stuck in here.” The apology is equally as surprising as the softness of which he speaks. “Shitty first day, huh?”
“It's cool. It's not your fault.” Other than all the shit that was completely your fault, you think, remembering the way you were shouting at each other just a moment ago. “Kinda shitty though, yeah.”
“Yeah.” He sighs again. “If you wanna leave, I don't blame you.”
“I thought I wasn't getting fired.”
“You're not,” he says quickly. “But I'm—this place is a shitshow.” You're not sure which he really means to say, but you hear both. The restaurant, and him especially, are both complete messes. That much was obvious from the beginning. “So if you wanna take off, just…” He shrugs. “Just go.”
Maybe that'd be for the best, if you left. As far as first days go, you've already broken every rule in the book. You messed up your first task, got into an argument with your boss, and then had sex with him. Nothing about this place is particularly inviting, either. This restaurant wears its dysfunction on its sleeve, unabashed in all the ways it lacks. You had left the kitchen with ringing ears from all the noise and a cut on your hand you didn't even notice. 
But here you are. You're not running. Maybe it's because of the fact that you need to pay rent. Maybe it's knowing that just one more pair of hands here could really make a difference. Maybe you're just desperate to keep food on the table. Maybe it's Carmen Berzatto, beautiful, haunted, and angry. Maybe it's all of that, a combined whole that's become greater than the sum of its parts.
Or maybe it's just that now that you've kissed him, had a taste of him, you refuse to let go. Maybe the reason is as shallow as that. 
Carmy's been waiting for you to speak, tired eyes searching your own. You're still not sure what exact colors you need to perfectly recreate the blue you're staring at. 
“Almost done!” Fak shouts. “Just one more hinge!”
“Heard,” Carmy shouts back. He hasn't taken his eyes off you. “So? What's it gonna be? Are you staying or not?”
Blood orange, you think all of a sudden. That's the orange you would need to make the perfect blue to match his eyes. Just a little bit—that's all you would need.
“I'm staying,” you tell him. “I need to pay rent, after all.”
Yeah. That's the reasoning you're settling on. Rent.
“Right. Of course.” There's a glimpse of that gentle smile you've seen flashes of today. It fades away as quickly as it came. “After this, I'm gonna have you learn how to check produce next.”
“Okay, sounds good,” you say as naturally as you can, given the tonal whiplash.
“There should be some that's about to get washed. I'll show you where that is.” The door's shifting. “But before that…” He lowers his voice, leans in close. Is he about to kiss you?
“W-What?”
“Get a new apron from my office. That one's dirty.” Beams of light stream through the entrance of the walk-in, forced wide open. “You need to keep your apron clean, chef.”
YOU WERE THE ONE WHO THREW IT ON THE GROUND, you want to scream. Just when you thought he started being nice, he does something that makes you want to grab him by the collar and shake him.
But you can't. The walk-in's open again, and you see your coworkers crowded by the door. 
“Yes, chef,” you reply, and the words taste bitter on your tongue.
~
@zorrasucia
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catmiemy · 9 hours
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Things Will Never Be the Same (Lia Wälti x Reader)
Summary: You figure out that your girlfriend hasn’t been paranoid and your best friend is actually in love with you.
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A/N: Finally managed to finish something! I have so many ideas, but I'm constantly too busy to actually write them. But I'm hopeful to have more time the next few weeks.
Also I'm definitely going to write a part two for this because I need a happy ending. So if there's anything you want to see, please tell me. :)
“Where the hell is my coffee?”
Your girlfriend’s voice reached you through the bathroom door. Both the actual words and her tone made you frown at yourself in the mirror. Apparently someone had woken up on the wrong side of the bed again. Like most mornings these days.
With a sigh you went back to applying your make up. There was no point in arguing with Jessica when she was like this. Furthermore you had a long day ahead of you and didn’t feel like wasting your energy unnecessarily. It probably, no definitely, wasn’t a good sign that you reached a point where you thought of most interactions with your girlfriend as draining, but you weren’t ready to face that fact.
Unfortunately Jessica was determined to bring the argument to you. Only a few moments after her initial shout, the door crashed open and your girlfriend marched into the room. “Where the hell is my coffee?”
Annoyance flared up inside of you. You did your best to keep a grip on your anger though, this would turn ugly if you also lost your temper, well uglier than it was going to be anyway. You hated what had become of your relationship, but no matter how hard you tried, you continuously failed at turning things around. You used to be so happy, so in love.
“Oh, I didn’t realize you were awake, otherwise I would have brought you your cup.” You tried your hardest to keep a neutral tone and an impartial expression, all the anger and pain you felt hidden behind this façade.
Bringing Jessica a cup of coffee in bed had been one of your favorite things early on in your relationship. Her eyes always lit up with sheer joy and an endless amount of love for you at this small gesture. Back then she never got tired of telling you how much it meant to her, how much she enjoyed these few minutes in bed with her favorite beverage and cuddles with you, because of course in the early days of your relationship you would always snuggle back into bed with her. Now it had become chore, which apparently you got yelled at for if you missed it once.
“I sent you a text to let you know!” Jessica pointed out sharply.
You grabbed your phone and sure enough, there was a message from her. You also noticed that you had forgotten to turn off the “Do not disturb”, but you doubted that Jessica would be receptive to this explanation. Another thing that you noticed was a message from your best friend, your teammate at both Arsenal and the national team, Lia.
I’m grabbing us some coffee.
See you at the airport!
These few words were enough to bring a smile to your face, another thing that didn’t sit right with Jessica. She snagged the phone out of your hand.
“Hey!” You protested, grabbing the phone back from her. It wasn’t hard, Jessica relented it easily once she had seen what had made you smile.
“When will you finally realize that she has a crush on you?” She basically spat at you.
 This was an old argument and one that always made your blood boil. Lia was off limits! However you didn’t have the time, or energy, for a full blown fight right now. So you restricted yourself to hissing at your girlfriend that she should really leave Lia out of this and that you would talk later. Then you pushed past her, grabbed your luggage that you had put next to the door, and left the apartment.
Unsurprisingly your uber wasn’t here yet. A quick glance at your watch revealed to you that you were a good ten minutes early. The thought of going back into your apartment and facing your girlfriend again was entirely unappealing, so you decided to stay out here. At least the weather was pleasant enough.
To avoid being seen by Jessica, which might have prompted her to come out and continue your argument, you moved a little further down the street until you were hidden behind some bushes. Standing there you were hit by the realization that this might be a new all time low for your relationship. And if you were being honest the idea that this was what the rest of your life was going to look like made you sick to your stomach. Better not to dwell on it.
The instance you entered the airport and spotted your best friend, you rushed over to her and flung your arms around her. Lia matched your motion, although a little awkwardly since she was holding two coffees.
“Hey Schätzi, is everything okay?” She asked you, worry dripping from her voice.
You nodded your head and allowed yourself to enjoy the closeness a little while longer, before extracting yourself.
“Fight with Jessica,” you mumbled.
Anger set Lia’s eyes ablaze. She bit her lips to avoid saying anything too harsh. It was no secret that the dislike between your best friend and your girlfriend was mutual. However Lia was much better at keeping civil than Jessica.
“I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”
This time you shook your head, “Nah, I don’t want to think about it right now.”
As was normally the case it didn’t take long before you told Lia everything nonetheless. When it came to her you never could keep silent, no matter how closed off you were with everyone else. Lia’s soothing and caring personality made you feel like it was okay to get it all out. And even if you would never admit it, you usually felt better afterwards.
Lia was a very attentive listener. Her gaze rested on you the entire time and she nodded along, keeping a mostly neutral complexion. If you would have focused on it, you could have easily picked up on the disdain for your girlfriend in your friend’s eyes, but you didn’t want to see it.
And anyway, the more you talked about it, the more explanations you found for Jessica’s behavior. She wasn’t a morning person, she always felt a bit lonely when you had to travel because of work, anger was her go to emotion when she was overwhelmed.
“You know I think I’m going to text her that I’m sorry and that we should talk in the evening,” you announced.
Lia looked at you skeptically, asking carefully, “Why are you apologizing?”
You shrugged your shoulders, finding it more difficult than expected to answer her question. Somehow you always felt like you had to apologize around Jessica. Again, this was something you didn’t want to dwell on.
“For yelling,” you said finally, before quickly changing the subject.
The arrival at camp and especially the reunion with all your teammates that you hadn’t seen in a long time was chaotic and easy to get lost in. Still you noticed that Lia was quieter and more reserve than usual and you promised yourself to question her about it before bed. With a pang of guilt you realized that you hadn’t even asked her how she was this morning at the airport, just instantly unloading all of your stuff onto her.
Dinner dredged on for quite some time and when it was finally finished you realized that both Lia and Ana were nowhere to be seen. First you checked the room Lia and you shared, when they weren’t there you headed to Ana’s room.
You stopped in your tracks when you heard sobbing coming from the room. It didn’t sound like someone having a little cry either, no this was desperate wailing and even before you knew who was in so much turmoil, your heart broke for the unknown person. That being said, the moment you realized who was sobbing their eyes out your heart shattered into a million pieces.
“I can’t do it anymore,” a voice that you recognized instantly as the one of your best friend in the whole world, managed to get out between sobs.
As if these words were pulling you into the room, your body began moving on its own accord. You burst into the room, frantically looking around for Lia, rushing to her side the moment you spotted her on the bed. She was wrapped in Ana’s arms, but this didn’t deter you. You simply threw your arms around both of them.
“What’s happening, Schätzi? Please tell me, what’s going on. If someone hurt you, I swear to god I will kill them!” You would! No one was allowed to hurt your best friend, not when she was the sweetest person on the planet.
To your immense surprise Lia went rigid the moment she heard your voice and felt your arms around her. This didn’t make any sense; you had always been each other’s place of comfort. You looked up at Ana questioningly, startling once again when you saw the anguish in her eyes. What had you missed? Had someone died? One of Lia’s parents?
While you were still trying to make sense of this all, Lia freed herself from both yours and Ana’s arms and with a mumbled apology ran out of the room. You jumped up as well, ready to go after her and get to the bottom of this, but Ana held you back.
“Don’t,” she told you earnestly.
“I…Ana, what the hell was that? Please, you need to tell me, so I can be there for Lia. I’m her best friend, I need…” You didn’t know exactly what you needed; just whatever would help you take away Lia’s pain. You had never seen her like this, not even after any of her breakups.
Ana chewed on her lip, the internal struggle happening in her mind clear as day. In the end she sighed and said, “I can’t, Y/N. I want to because I think it’s important that you know, but it’s not my story to tell. Give Lia a little time to calm down and then try talking with her again, yeah?”
You nodded, even if in reality you had already decided not to heed Ana’s advice. How could you not try finding Lia right this second when she was this devastated? More than anything you wanted to make it better for her and you had a lot of faith that you could. You had always been there for Lia, through everything, just like she had been for you.
Therefore you began searching for Lia everywhere. First you checked your hotel room, but unsurprisingly she wasn’t there. Then you went outside because Lia loved being outdoors when she felt emotional. Again, no luck. The next hour you spent looking through every nook, but Lia was nowhere to be found.
Defeated you went back to your hotel room, hoping she had returned there by now. You held your breath when you entered, disappointment hitting you when you were greeted by a dark and empty room.
You plopped down onto the bed, not even bothering to turn on the light despite it slowly getting dark. Where was Lia? And more importantly what had happened to her? You picked up your phone, debating if you should call someone from Lia’s family. Maybe they had some information.
That’s when your phone lit up with a call from Jessica, an unwelcome remainder that you were supposed to talk everything out with her tonight. However, you didn’t have the energy for that right now; especially not when it would mean you would have to grovel until Jessica finally deemed it enough to forgive you. Lia’s words popped up in your mind, why were you even apologizing?
So you ended up ignoring the call, and you also ignored that this would inevitably lead to an even more difficult conversation with even more groveling on your part. Right now you couldn’t worry about that, all of your concerns were taken up by the whole situation with Lia.
You had lost all sense of time, so you couldn’t say how much later it was when the door was finally opened and Lia tiptoed into the room. Instantly you sat up, startling your friend who had expected, hoped really, that you were already asleep.
By now it had become pitch black in the room, and you reached towards the light switch to turn on the lights. When Lia saw your movement, she asked you not to, her voice sounding horribly hoarse. You respected her wishes, instead getting up and walking over to her in an attempt to give her a hug.
“Don’t,” Lia pleaded, cracking your heart in the process
What was going on? What had you done to make her push you away? It physically pained you not to offer Lia any comfort when she was clearly struggling, but again you listened to her boundaries.
“Lia, please talk to me,” you begged, “Ana told me…”
Later you would try to rationalize what you did next, or didn’t do to be more precise, to yourself by saying you were too stunned to stop Lia once it became apparent that she thought you were going to say that Ana had told you what was bothering her, when really you wanted to say, ‘Ana told me to leave you alone for a while, but I can’t do that.’
However a small voice would always point out that you could have stopped her at any time if you had really wanted to. The thing was though, you wanted to know what was going on with Lia, so you didn’t stop her.
“I…look…I’m so sorry! And I promise I can keep my feelings in check. I’ve been doing it for the longest time, so please…I can’t lose you! I know you’ll never love me like I love you, but I still need you in my life. Please….I’m…”
Lia’s voice broke, sobs bubbling up instead. She suppressed them successfully, but there was nothing the midfielder could do against the quiet tears streaming down her cheeks.
By now you really were shocked into silence, your mind reeling. Was it possible that Jessica had been right all this time and Lia did in fact have a crush on you? No, that was crazy! Your best friend had never given any indication that she liked you like this. Or had she?
You looked up at Lia whose whole posture screamed defeat. Her head was bent, her gaze firmly trained on the floor. The brunette had crossed her arms in front of her as if to protect herself from whatever you were going to say.
“Wait what? You have a crush on me?” This was the rather dumb response you came up with.
Lia shrugged her shoulders helplessly, her voice tear-stricken when she spoke again, “I’m not sure if that word is strong enough for what I feel, but like I said, it doesn’t matter. I can deal with it.”
She looked up at you for a moment, but was unable to even meet your eyes. Panic hit you, no matter how much Lia stressed that this wouldn’t change anything, you weren’t too sure if this was true now that it was all out in the open. You couldn’t lose her!
“But wait? Didn’t Ana already tell you this?”
Lia’s question ripped you from your downward spiral and at least for a moment the fear was drowned out by intense shame.
“No, she didn’t. I was going to say she told me to leave you alone, but then you began explaining and I just didn’t stop you because I wanted to know what’s going on so I could help,” you admitted.
Now it all made sense why Lia hadn’t wanted to talk to you about what was bothering her. You wished that you could turn back time and make different choices, so you never found out about this. But you didn’t deserve that, not after basically tricking Lia into disclosing her secret.
“What?” Lia asked in anguish, “So I could’ve...You never had to…I’m so stupid!”
And with that your best friend turned around and fled from the room. The sobs she could no longer hold back shaking her shoulders, and breaking your heart. You deserved all the fear and shame and other complicated feelings that came with this being laid open, but Lia didn’t.
You sank back down onto your bed, staring numbly at the wall, while your mind was beating yourself up mercilessly. If only you hadn’t been so selfish! How did you never notice that the most important person in your entire life was in love with you? What did that say about you?!
There were no tears, just silence and an ever growing pit in your stomach.
When the room to the hotel room was opened again sometime later, a tiny flutter of hope went through you. Maybe you could find the right words and things could go back to how they had been straight away?
This small and probably completely unrealistic hope was crushed instantly when you saw that it wasn’t Lia but Ana entering the room. She rushed over to you, engulfing you in a hug.
“Hey, how are you?”
You didn’t answer Ana’s question, but allowed yourself a moment of burying yourself in your friend’s arms. And anyway it was impossible to reply when you didn’t even know how you were, if you were really still in that hotel room, if this was in fact your life.
After a short while you pulled back, sitting up straight and focusing on the truly important topic.
“How’s Lia?” You asked, fear tinting your words.
Ana took a few seconds to answer, pondering her words. The truth wasn’t pretty, so she wanted to do her best to soften the blow.
“Not too good,” she admitted finally. “There’s just too many emotions hitting her at once. I think up until now she still had some hope that you’d return her feelings. But now that it’s all out in the open these hopes have been crushed and she just needs some time.”
While talking Ana studied you carefully. She had always wondered if maybe you returned Lia’s feelings. Not that she had ever told her friend that, the poor girl didn’t need any more confusing thoughts and emotions to deal with. Part of her wanted to ask you straightforward, but in the end Ana decided against it. Now was not the time for it, not when it was clear that you too were completely overwhelmed with everything that had happened.  
For you the thought of Lia needing time, time apart from you, made you nauseous. There was barely a day where you didn’t see or at least talk to your best friend. A reality where that wasn’t true, even if it was only for a little while, felt unbearable. However you were well aware that you weren’t in a position to make any demands. If Lia needed time, you had to accept that.
“Nadine has agreed to switch rooms with Lia so that she can stay with me. Are you okay with that?”
Ana’s soft words pulled you from your thoughts. The idea of Lia not sleeping in the bed next to you felt like another punch to the stomach. Still you pushed down your emotions and the tears burning in your eyes, and nodded.
“Okay then,” Ana said, a little unsure on how to proceed. If only she could cut herself in half and offer both Lia and you some comfort!
You decided to make it easier for her by standing up and heading to the bathroom. There you gathered Lia’s vanity bag, handing it to Ana when you returned. After that you quickly assembled all the things your best friend would need for the night. Pain shooting through you with every familiar item you picked up.
“Goodnight, Ana,” you said once you had given her everything, before disappearing into the bathroom once again to get ready for bed yourself.
You did so in record time, wanting to be in bed and be able to pretend you were already sleeping when Nadine came to the room.
At least this worked out in your favor and when you heard the door being opened again, you pressed your eyes shut and didn’t react to your teammate’s soft calls. You probably weren’t very convincing, but thankfully Nadine decided to leave you alone.
Sleep evaded you for a long time. You lay there with closed eyes, silent tears rolling down your cheeks as you tried and failed to keep your mind occupied. But no matter what you did, it kept circling back to the horrible image of Lia’s devastation once she understood that she had just revealed her biggest secret to you, the gut-wrenching realization that everything would be different now, and the fear of losing Lia once and for all.
What if she would never be able to move past this? She had so many great friends in her life, Ana, Leah, Viv and so many more, what if she realized that they were much better than you anyway? You couldn’t imagine a life without Lia. The prospect of a few weeks without her was already enough to make you want to curl up in bed and never get up again. But if you never got her back? You couldn’t do that. You couldn’t.
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makeyoumine69 · 3 days
Text
Spit In My Face
— PAIRING: Sugar Daddy!Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader
— SUMMARY: Fashion Week is in full swing in New York City and Patrick Bateman doesn't miss the chance to show you the world of luxury and beauty. So, he invites you to attend the fashion show with him. Through the chain of events that unfold there, you will see a new side of Mr. Bateman that you never knew existed.
— CONTAINS: Angsty romance, smut, toxic behavior, gaslighting, cheating, misogyny, hurt/comfort, seduction, swearing, flirting, sensual kisses & touches, jealousy, implications of self harm & panic attacks, (almost) character death, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, rough sex, finger sucking, spanking, biting, manhandling, choking, orgasm control, dry humping, nipple play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, body worship, Daddy kink, Praise kink, pet names, dirty talk, Service!Dom!Patrick Bateman being an asshole (again).
— WORDS: 21k (oops)
— SONG REC: ThxSoMch - Spit In My Face
— A/N: Hey guys! It took me a year to finally finish this and I decided to post all the parts together since most of you probably forgot what happened in the previous ones (I'll delete the old posts). I did some extra editing before posting and I hope you like it and I'm happy to get back to writing and soon I'll be rebooting the Cupcake series as I've already started working on prequels. Love you all!
— LINKS: [MASTERLIST];[SERIES MASTERLIST].
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Fashion, grace, money, wealth, these were the words running through your head as you rode in the taxi, and you couldn't believe Patrick had just convinced you to go to the goddamn Dior boutique. Not to mention the upcoming fashion show you were going to together, which was an actual nightmare for you and your nervous system.
“I really can’t understand. Why me?” You asked Bateman, turning in his direction to see him looking through the window, with his headphones on. And of course, he didn’t hear you. 
All you could do was give him a shy tap on the shoulder. You heard the loud beats of rock music as he opened one of his ears and turned to face you. "What?"
His slightly annoyed intonation almost discouraged you from repeating your question. "I'm just wondering why you decided to invite me to this fashion show when you have much better options." 
You watched him frown, and before you continued, you already knew what Patrick was going to say: "Cupcake, I've told you several times. I want to show you the beauty of being rich. I bet you've never seen so many fabulous people in one place."
Sighing a little sadly, you fixed your coat to distract yourself from the burning anger in your chest. "I've had enough of the rich snobs in our company and…I’m not a fan of all these 'luxurious’ things, you know…”
With a small chuckle, Bateman removed his headphones completely, quickly checking his haircut in the window's reflection. 
"Of course you're not. How can you be a fan of things you can't afford?" He stated before trying to hug your shoulders, but when he saw your intense expression, he just gently put his palm on your knee.
"Money is not happiness," you cast a serious look at him, brushing his hand away from your leg. "Can you call yourself a happy man?"
Perplexed, Patrick knitted his eyebrows, as if your question had caught him off guard —you have never seen him so lost before and that was really strange. Fidgeting in his place, Bateman was certainly about to replay something when you heard the raspy taxi driver’s voice:
“We’ve arrived.”
"Thank you!" You responded before quickly getting out of the cab without waiting for Patrick to pay for your ride.
Obviously, you were upset and pissed off because of his endless snobbish dialogues about rich people, money and how much his regular suit cos—tnone of this really interested you, would he ever understand that?
As soon as you were outside, you felt a stiff wind blowing through your hair, ruffling it and making your mischievous locks cover your face. Quickly, you brushed them away and raised your eyes to the beautiful sign that read "Dior" in large letters; so stylish, so plush—just the way he liked it.
"Are you going to stand here forever?" Bateman scolded behind your back, his loud footsteps forcing you to spin around. 
"I'm so amazed, I can't even move," you sarcastically sneered, staring at the window of the boutique. "The aura of richness has just overwhelmed me."
"How witty," Bateman almost applauded you, his lips curling into a cheeky grin as he came closer, his muscular arms wrapped around your waist. "Come on, let's go inside." With a light push on your back, he induced you to move forward, his arms never left your little form. 
When you finally reached the entrance of the store, Patrick gallantly opened the door in front of you and looked at you from above, his eyes glowing with an unfamiliar tenderness.
"Much obliged..." You stammered as he somehow managed to grab your ass, stroking it and squeezing your buttock a little through your coat. Embarrassed, you turned to face him, but Bateman just smiled in his usual smug way. 
"My pleasure." He murmured in your ear before letting you go.
Once inside the boutique, you heard someone greeting Patrick with undisguised excitement:
"Mr. Bateman! It's so nice to see you again!  Welcome to Dior, we are so happy to help you."
'Again, huh?' You chuckled to yourself, turning your gaze to a side and wondering about the number of his visits and how many girls had been here before; Bateman’s face changed almost immediately as if he noticed your reaction.
“Thank you for the warm welcome, Mr. Graham,” you could definitely hear some tense notes in his tone. “You look great as always!”
The guy let out a little giggle; he seemed to enjoy the compliments as much as your yuppie boy. “Not as perfect as you!” he pointed his both index fingers at Patrick, and now was his turn to grin from being praised. “How can I help you?”
“Uh, I need a dress for…” he paused before staring at you, his eyes gliding over your completely relaxed expression. “For my good friend, but she doesn’t really know what she likes,” ‘good friend, with whom he slept almost every day. Nice shot, Bateman.' “Don’t cha, baby?” While saying that, Patrick groped your cheek, pinching it a bit.
Mr. Graham, who was supposed to be a local stylist, gave two of you a suspicious glare, and only then did Patrick understand what he was doing, pulling his hand away as if it had been burned. 
"Well, if the young lady doesn't mind, we can try something to your taste, Mr. Bateman," the stylist confirmed, examining you like a statue. "What do you think?"
"Great idea," Patrick exclaimed, pulling you into his arms to take off your coat. You almost fell into his embrace, whimpering as he 'accidentally' touched your boobs, squeezing them gently. 'Fuck, why should he be so obnoxious?' "I can't wait to see my Cupcake in one of these beautiful dresses." He whispered before leaving a tiny peck on your neck.
"That's very sweet of you, but..." you murmured, looking into his hazel eyes. "I don't think I'll fit into those dresses."
"Don't worry, honey." Bateman winked at you and gave you a quick slap on your butt to nudge you toward Mr. Graham, whose smile widened the longer he watched the two of you together.
“Please, follow me.”
Trying to distract yourself from all the bad thoughts, you just did what you were told and moved along countless hangers with new dresses. The further you got away from Patrick, the more insecure you became, and that strange feeling made your whole body shiver like from a cold shower.
“So, which color do you want to try on first? Maybe something dark?” the man asked you, sliding his hand across the beautiful fabric of some dress nearby. “Dark blue or dark red…Or even black?”
"I really like the black color, it goes with almost everything."
Mr. Graham chuckled amusedly and handed you a black cocktail dress, which of course was very short. Apparently Patrick didn't like long dresses or skirts, you already knew that, but that didn't mean you were happy about it.
“Mm-mh, and I think this one can fit too,” he gave you another dark blue dress before adding. “I still recommend you to have a look at our new collection, maybe you’ll find something interesting.”
“Maybe you’re right,” you sighed and smiled sincerely for the first time of the day. "Those amazing dresses I saw when we just entered are from a new collection?"
“Yes, Miss.”
"I'll check them out. And… thank you, Mr. Graham." Excited, you smiled again, and then you strolled away, a pile of dresses in your hands.
Once you reached the place you had been before, you heard multiple voices—one of them definitely belonged to Patrick while another one seemed to be unknown to you.
"What are you doing here?" You peeked out from behind the hangers to see a beautiful blonde girl, her face literally glowing with enthusiasm. "I'm so glad to see you, it's been a while." You didn't even have to look to know what she did next as the loud pecking sound echoed in your ears as if you had been hit with something hard.
The blonde left a small kiss on Patrick's cheek before he replied. "Good to see you too, Meredith."
“Are you here alone?”
“Mm-mhhm,” Bateman looked around and when he didn’t spot you, he added almost emotionlessly. “Yeah, you can say that.”
An instant pain burned in your chest, causing your hands to cling to the dress you were holding. Breathing heavily, you were about to send everything to hell and just leave, but for some reason, you decided to listen to their conversation, maybe you would learn something else about yourself being nothing but an empty place.
"So, are you going to the fashion show this weekend?" She asked cautiously, as if testing his line.
"Sure," they looked into each other's eyes for a while. "You know, I never miss things like that."
The way she giggled, forced you to close your ears from cringe, but that unpleasant sound kept bouncing in your head.
"Do you have a date or not?"
"Why do you ask?" Bateman retorted in a stern but concerned tone.
"I just... I thought maybe we could go together?" Flirtatiously, she pulled him closer, pretending to fix his coat.
"I'm sorry, but the answer is no." Frowning, he quickly took her hand away.
Ashamed, she stepped back and stalled. "You could just say you already have someone to go with and…"
Patrick scowled in irritation, cutting her off. "I'd still say 'no' even if I didn't…"
"Miss, did you find something you like?" Mr. Graham's sudden voice made you jerk and drop the super expensive dress with a thud.
It felt like all eyes were on you at that moment, and you didn't really know what to do other than quickly pick up the dress and act naturally. “God, I’m so sorry…I can be so clumsy sometimes!” You apologized, trying to ignore Bateman’s intense gaze. 
"Don't worry, Miss… it's not a problem!" The stylist assured you, matching his words with reassuring gestures.
"I'll pay for everything,” Patrick pronounced it so calmly and with absolute confidence, as he moved in your direction. “Have you finished?” 
First, you cast a confused glance at him, and then you looked at Meredith, her mad stare of disbelief almost making you laugh. “I think so,” you murmured, watching him getting closer. “I even got some of the new collection.”
“Ahh, is it so?” he teased, standing face to face with you. “Come on, let Daddy see what you’ve got.”
With that said, Patrick leaned over to your lips, and you let him pull you into a deep kiss, which was pretty surprising—your own behavior almost scared you, as you didn’t even care about people watching you making out. Deftly, he grabbed your waist to lift you up, but your audible protest compelled him to stop.
“Pat-Patrick…” you whispered against his mouth. “P-please, don’t forget where we are…”
“I know, I know,” he snickered softly, hiding his face in the curve of your neck. “I just missed my Cupcake so much.”
With a dull grin on your face, you pulled away from him to look into his dark brown eyes. "Really?" After you asked that, you glanced at the blonde girl behind his back, who was now talking to a middle-aged woman, probably the assistant.
“Time literally stopped for me when you left.” 
'What a beautiful flattery.'
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After a while, you changed into the next dress because all the previous options didn't get Bateman's attention, even though you really liked them. You were struggling with a clasp when you heard him whine in anticipation.
“Baby, did you fall asleep in there?”
“Almost ready!” You blurted out before fixing the dress straps on your shoulders.
And then you walked out of the dressing room to the circular runway, and yes, this boutique had a special VIP area with a fucking runway.
"Finally, my favorite style," Patrick flattered, sitting in the leather chair and holding a glass of mineral water with a little lime. "Mm-mm, this dress outlines your tits so perfectly, not gonna lie, I like it."
A bit humiliated, you were constantly fixing the hem of the dress as it was too short for you, especially when Bateman was looking at you so vigilantly, making you feel yourself like a picture in some art gallery.
"Baby, turn around and…" he paused, crossing his long legs and pressing a finger to his lips. "Stop crawling! Square your shoulders and straighten your back!"
You turned around, unable to hide your sadness. "I… I don't feel comfortable in this. It's too short," you glanced at his annoyed face, wondering if you should continue. "I'm almost naked!"
"But that's the point!" Patrick tilted his hand to the side and was silent for quite a while, clearly thinking about something. "You know what, Cupcake?"
“What?”
"I'll be honest, this dress is amazing, but… unfortunately not on you," he scoffed before taking a sip of water. "It's not a problem, honey. Just take it as motivation to be better."
Biting your lip, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't try to hide your pain and resentment, but your voice sounded dejected anyway. “Of course… keep pretending that you didn’t expect this…”
Humming to himself, Bateman squinted his eyes and leaned on his knees. “Expected what?”
“That these slutty dresses wouldn't fit me,” you glared at him, your body was yearning to get rid of this dress as quickly as possible. “Goddamn, I have enough of this…I hope you enjoyed this little performance!”
After saying that, you turned around and went back into the dressing room. Trembling with rage, you didn't even care what would come next as the searing flame of injustice overtook your mind. No way would you allow anyone to treat you like that.
"Shit!" You cursed as you attempted to undo the fucking clasp on your back, but it didn't seem to work. 
"If you keep pulling like that, you'll tear it apart for sure," his unexpectedly gruff baritone shot through your back like an arrow. "Let me help you."
"No!" You almost screamed, turning sharply to face him. Your chest rose and fell so abruptly that you thought you would choke on the air.
Sneering, Bateman gently extended a hand as if you were a wild beast he planned to tame. “Cupcake,” he was getting closer, forcing you to walk backwards. “Tell me…what’s wrong?”
"What's wrong?" You kept stepping back until you suddenly bumped into the wall behind you. "Maybe you should ask yourself first?"
"I think you should stop pouting or you will get wrinkles," he tried to be nice to you, but it only made you more upset. "I don't think either one of us wants that to happen, am I right, honey?"
“Stop it, Patrick…”
“Mm-mhh, it’s just Patrick now?” You didn’t even notice that his massive figure was already towering over you, pressing you a little against the wall. “No ‘Daddy’ anymore?”
Possessively, Patrick strived to cup your face, but you flinched away from his touch, coaxing a warning growl to break from his perfectly shaped lips.
 “Can you just leave and let me change?”
“Jesus, (y/n)...you’re acting like a stubborn child!”
Panting, you leaned your hands against his firm chest to push him away a bit. "Do you really think I'm in the mood…after all the rude things you said?"
He chuckled, looking at you from above and giving you a feeling of being so small compared to him, you almost stopped breathing. “Rude things?” laughing again, Bateman trapped you between his arms as he put them from both sides of your head. “I always say what I think, there’s nothing special about it…”
"More likely, you always think only of yourself," your voice wavered, and you found it hard to breathe, as if he was sucking all the oxygen out of the air. "Let's just skip this, if you still want me to go with you..."
“No, I don’t need you to do me a favor.” Patrick shushed you with a finger, pressing it against your lips, leaving you trembling like a leaf. 
“And I don’t need your help!” You tried to break away, but he kept you in one place. 
“Oh, is that so, honey?” he crooned in a sweet tone, rubbing his nose against yours; his seductive aura was almost intoxicating, it was corrupting your mind stronger than anything else in this world. “Honestly, I just wanted to help you undo the clasp but now… now, I want more than that…”
With no delay, Bateman covered your mouth his heated one, wrapping his brawny hands around your quivering frame and spreading your legs with his knee. Suffocated, you didn’t react, feeling his hard bulge brushing against your mound—a muffled moan of sudden pleasure pierced through your bonded lips, sending chills down you spin; your cute reaction didn’t surprise him, but Patrick couldn’t hide his satisfied grin as his hands were already pulling down the straps of your dress. 
And only now, you desperately clawed at his shoulders, weakly pushing him back, not understanding that your attempts to fight him were only putting gasoline on a fire, encouraging him to sprawl you against the wall, pinning your hands against your head.
"P-Patrick!" The way you almost screamed his name made you both tremble with ravenous lust as you looked into each other's eyes, not really knowing if you wanted him to let you go or hold you forever.
Growling quietly, Bateman continued to move along your longing body, forcing you to hook your hip around his loin, so you could grind against his hard groin. “Feeling good, darling?”
'No, not good...no!'
“Yes-s! Mmm-mh…Daddy… ahh!” Oh God, that was the end. 
"Baby," he murmured in your ear, thrusting his firm thighs into yours and shamelessly groping your bottom. "Daddy doesn't like to see his sweet Cupcake upset."
"Maybe...n-next time Daddy will think more before he talks." You stammered from the beat of your heart. 
“Do ya want me to bite this little sharp tongue?” panting, Patrick punctuated his words with rough smacks on your butt, which could be surely heard outside the dressing room. “I’ll teach you how to behave.”
Smoothly, Bateman pulled down the top of your dress, letting your breasts to bounce out from it, and the next second his greedy mouth was already sucking on your taut nipple. 
"Mmm…Gosh." You arched your back as the last vestiges of your self-control seemed to disappear along with your ability to resist this man.
Switching between your engorged peaks, Patrick didn’t stop rubbing against your mound not even for a moment, your throbbing pussy was about to explode at any second. Thirsty, he tugged on your tip with a squelch, enjoying each little whine you made, but he still needed more.
“Turn around,” he urged briefly, licking his lips in hunger as he watched you bent over in front of him. “Oh-fuck, I can smell your sweet arousal… mmm,” snuggling into you, Bateman left a wet hickey on the back of your neck before he started to move down, peppering your exposed skin with hot sloppy kisses. “C’mon, Cupcake, spread your legs for me.”
As if hypnotized, you obeyed and before you even noticed, his long fingers were teasing your sensitive clit trough your so-fucking-wet panties. Clinging to the wall, you were about to moan when you sensed his big palm on your chin, his hot breathing was mercilessly burning the delicate skin of your throat while his rock-hard bulge was still pressed against your ass.
“Aa-aww, Daddy….mhm.” You muffled against your own hand before turning around to give him your most innocent look–he read it almost right away.
“So, you need my help?” bastard! – you almost said it out loud, but Bateman was faster as he slid his thumb into your mouth, and you started to suck it like medicine you couldn’t live without. “Ahh-look at ya… Such a little slutty girl, can’t function without Daddy’s finger inside her dirty mouth…”
Twitching under his massive weight, you could only think of his skilful digits playing with your pussy better than you ever wished for, damn you were already so close but it seemed like Partick's endless craving spurred him on to tear you apart completely.
With no words, Bateman knelt behind your back to pull up the hem of your dress, and soon you had to compress your lips so tightly, as loud nasty sounds were about to erupt from your fiery chest when he finally moved your underwear to the side and his plump lips covered your feverish cunt. 
“Oh-mmmy God,” tensed like a string, you didn’t know if you wanted to cry or to laugh, or all these things together from how his masterful tongue was pushing you over the edge. “Mmm-Patrick-” you suppressed another moan when he bit one of your buttocks before spreading them wide open to push two fingers inside your blushing pussy. “A-aah-Daddy, I’m so close… p-please!”
Patrick only purred something incoherently in response, as he continued to lick your engorged folds and pumping your tight hole with his experienced digits. His persistent ministrations made you totally lose your mind, and now you didn’t understand were you begging him to stop or to NEVER stop. 
When your legs shook in his grip, you heard his raspy snarl: “Not yet, Cupcake…Not yet!”
'And he just stopped, holy hell.'
Your miserable sobbing bounced against the walls of the dressing room as the coil in your lower belly was yearning for its release, it was literally itching so hard you were ready to scratch the wall with your nails if it could help you a bit.
“(Y/N), you can’t even imagine how much I want to leave you just like that,” Bateman hissed, and then you heard the unzipping sound which caused your knees to buckle. "But I want to get all your stupid thoughts about acting like a brat… out of your head!"
Abruptly, Patrick put your legs together and the next second you felt his leaking tip between your legs, brushing against your soaked folds and making your squirm from ecstasy. 
'This man have no barriers, he can reduce me to pieces so easily, like no one else, and I am sure he likes it.'
A small drops of sweat were running down his forehead as he watched his beefy cock slipping back and forth with a sleek sound; your overstimulated pussy was literally on fire.
“P-please…” You whimpered, bending ever lower to give him a better access to your spasming cunt. 
“If you want to cum, you have to move, slut.” Groaning, Bateman stood still with his hands wrapped tightly around your hips. Mesmerised, he watched you grinding on his huge dick as you desperately chased your release. At that moment, your languid, heavy breathing was all that mattered to him.
Shivering erratically, you almost crested your high when Patrick harshly grasped your throat and pressed you against the wall, possessively he began to smack his cock against your clit, each slap he made was taking your breath away.
“Tell me, Cupcake…” he grunted against your neck, brushing his swollen tip along your throbbing nub barely sensible. “Who do you belong to?”
“You…Only y-you...”
Bateman squeezed your neck with blatant dominance and demanded in a low voice, "Uh, not quite convincing…try again."
“Aa-aww! I… I belong to you…Daddy!” You cried out through your pressed palm when he sped up the tempo, slapping your pussy with nasty wet sounds.
With a devilish smirk on his face, Patrick had to hold you still as you cummed so hard, gushing on his dick and fidgeting around the wall. Multiple waves of pleasure were washing over you like a waterfall, leaving you completely exhausted, you didn’t even have any power to moan. 
And soon, you became limp in his powerful arms, allowing him peacefully patting your head as he praised you. “You can be a good girl when you really want to,” Bateman kissed your temple, fixing his pants. “But still, you could just let me help you with this fucking dress.”
“You can help me now…” You replied, hungrily catching the air.
Smugly, Patrick eventually undid the clasp on your dress, not missing the moment to leave a red mark on your shoulder blade as he sucked on your soft skin. “Speaking about dresses. Since my favourite one didn’t fit, you can choose whatever you want…I don’t really care.”
You sighed, smiling ironically to yourself. “Great!”
Bateman didn’t stop smirking even for a second, he was so pleased with himself that he didn’t notice your sarcastic intonation, he just ignored it, as usual. “Come out when you are ready, I’ll wait for you in the hall.”
“What for? I can pay for this myself.”
His cheesy titter unpleasantly cut your ear. “I don't want you to starve, babe,” you cast an angry glance at him, but he only stroked your cheek before adding: “You only need to be an obedient girl, and I'll give you as many gifts as you want.”
“But I didn’t ask...”
A sudden ring of his mobile phone got his attention, so he hushed you with a finger before quickly going out from the dressing room, leaving you alone with your inflaming rage.
Snorting tiredly, you mentally screwed him a million times in a row, changed your clothes and tried not to even think about eavesdropping on his conversation with whoever it was. As you left the dressing room, you heard the echo of his voice from nearby.
“Jesus, Evelyn! I’ve told you already, I can’t take the time off work.”
At that moment, you could swear your legs weren't listening as they led you straight to the source of the sound. With your heart beating, you halted near the dressing room when his voice suddenly fell silent, and the next second the curtain was carelessly pulled aside so that your frightened eyes met his furious ones.
'Oops!'
Annoyed, Patrick stared at you with his hands crossed on his chest. It was too late to run now, so you stood still and heard him saying:
"Are you lost?" With a cocky grin, he picked up his briefcase and stepped closer to you.
"No...I mean, yes. Probably," your cheeks burned from the inside as the strong feeling of embarrassment hit you like a truck. "I was just looking for you and..."
"Aha," he crooned before towering over you, grabbing you possessively by the waist and leaning down to whisper in your ear: "Do you know the proverb 'curiosity killed the cat'?"
"I haven't heard it since I was a kid," you confessed, swallowing hard as you watched him taking the dresses from your hands, the mysterious grin never leaving his face. "Sorry, I really didn't mean to eavesdrop."
“I’m sure you didn’t.” Haughtily, Patrick winked at you, and that was really confusing because his unpredictable mood changes were the most difficult puzzle you had ever known.
“You don’t even want to see which dress I chose?”
"Not really, I'll see it tomorrow anyway," his voice sounded more stern now. "Unless you change your mind about going with me.”
He cast a challenging glance at you, but before you had a chance to reply, Bateman walked past you and gestured for you to follow. Slightly disappointed, you went after him and soon you made it to the hall where all this shit started.
"So, did the young lady find something to her taste?" The stylist asked as soon as he saw you coming. 
"Yep," Patrick let him pick up the dresses and put them on the big table next to the beautiful leather couch on which Bateman kept looking in disgust and you didn't even know why. "(Y/n), c'mon, point with your finger to which dress you like?"
The way he cooed to you was absolutely stunning. Sometimes it seemed like he could read you like an open book, and that only made you feel insecure.
"I think this one." You replied with a shy smile.
"Nice, very nice!" Mr. Graham exclaimed before calling for an assistant to pack your dress. "That will be 2800 dollars, sir."
Satisfied, Bateman hummed to himself and pulled out his wallet. "Do you take credit cards?"
"Of course!"
All the while, you were pretty shocked by the price for just a piece of fabric. Frowning, you didn’t even realize you were saying it out loud. "2800 dollars, for this?"
Everyone, including Patrick, turned to look at you; the stylist was seriously confused and he just mumbled: "Excuse me?"
"Huh, don't worry," Bateman chuckled and handed him his platinum AmEx credit card. "She just can't believe I finally bought her a dress of your brand. Am I right, dear?"
When Patrick glanced at you, you felt a cold breeze run through your body—he must have been really angry. "Mmm, yes! I have been dreaming about this for so long."
Even though you were not an actress, your words sounded more than natural. Both men smiled at each other and proceeded with the payment procedure.
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All the way back to his apartment you both remained almost silent. Patrick continued to listen to the rock track he had paused on before going into the store, looking at you from time to time when you didn't see him, his hand fidgeting with the hem of your new dress that was lying on your knees. Yet, you couldn't believe he'd just bought you a dress that cost more than your monthly rent. You hated to owe someone, but now you felt like you did, and it was killing you from the inside...because you didn't ask him to get you that dress, you didn't ask him for anything, and still he was trying to push you into the world of luxury where you would be a stranger forever.
'Bullshit.'
"(Y/n), what's on your mind?" His sudden question caught you off guard, and you almost bit your tongue. Why did he even ask, when it seemed he could read your mind?
Fidgeting in your seat, you turned away from the window and gazed into his brown eyes, now filled with an unrivaled enigma. "Just thinking about how to survive all the challenges you have set for me."
You heard him laugh softly, and before you could continue, he hugged your shoulders and snuggled into your small frame, the heat his body was radiating melted the cold shell you had been building up since the moment he decided to 'help' you in the dressing room.
“Challenges?” Patrick rejoined, nuzzling against your neck as he pulled your collar down a bit. 
“Yes, Patrick,” you were trying to hold yourself as much as you could, not giving him more weaknesses to play around. “You know how much I hate all these fancy things which are made only for rich people.”
Bateman only purred something incoherently against your skin, tickling it a bit. “Cupcake…I think you need to relax.”
“Relax?”
“Yes, baby,” he tugged you closer, his nose was nearly rubbing against yours. 'Goddamn!' “Relax and take it easy.”
"Stop, stop, stop..." you pushed him away a bit, forcing his headphones to slide down his head completely. "You've reminded me almost every day...that I'm not from 'your world', that I'm just a mortal who can't afford to buy fucking clothes that cost a fortune...and now you're telling me to just relax?"
Patrick huffed and rolled his eyes. “(Y/n)...don’t even start this conversation again.”
“You’re such an…”
Despite the fact that the partition in the cab was closed, it seemed as if the taxi driver heard your loud voice, and the next moment he opened it to ask you if everything was all right.
When you said that everything was fine, he started to drive again and you clenched your palms into fists, feeling the embarrassment and anger fighting in your mind.
"You're ashamed of me, aren't you?" You wondered without looking at him. 
The way Bateman exhaled was not a good sign. "When you make such scenes—yes, I am." 
Sighing, you pressed a hand to your forehead. Damn, he was affecting you so badly and you hated yourself for it, for being so weak next to him, so vulnerable...you were literally losing yourself.
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His apartment looked perfect as always, so clean, so posh, but there was something strange this time as you walked across the living room and saw a large bouquet of white roses on his kitchen island.
"Mmm, such beautiful flowers!" You approached them to inhale their scent.
"Yeah," he stated from behind, placing your dress on the back of his white couch. "I bought them for you."
Stunned, you broke away from them as if you were pricked. “For me?”
"I'm not going to repeat it," Patrick blurted out, walking into the kitchen to grab a glass and a bottle of super expensive whiskey. "Besides, I don't think it makes any sense now."
'Excellent.' 
Without asking, Bateman set a glass on the bar counter in front of you as you took a seat near it. Still frowning with irritation, he poured some red wine for you, and when you were about to thank him, he just strolled away. The situation was rather unconventional, to say the least, and you didn't really know what to do, maybe just leave?
"Patrick, I think we both need to cool off a bit...right?" you sipped at your wine, waiting for his answer, but he continued to ignore you. "I'm going to finish my drink and probably go home."
"Whatever." Was all he said, standing with his back to your face, clearly thinking about something. 
Upset, you stifled a sad gasp and took the glass before getting up. When you reached his white couch to have a look at your dress for distraction, you suddenly heard his challenging voice:
"You want to know who Evilyn is, don't you?"
Paralyzed, you almost choke on your wine. After coughing a little, you turned to see him standing near the coffee table with his hands in his pockets. This was getting serious.
"I don't understand, why do you ask?"
Patrick chuckled loudly and shook his head in disbelief. "Stop acting like a fool, Cupcake. I know you want this, I can even feel it," his face grimaced a bit dangerously while his eyes were getting darker by the second. "You've wanted it since we left the boutique, that's why you started acting like a bitch."
Trembling with burning rage, you squeezed the glass, almost breaking it. "I'm not in the mood for scenes, you know," you countered, not even noticing that you took a few confident steps toward him. "When I leave, you can bring Evelyn, Courtney, Meredith, whoever… and confront them for as long as you want!"
"Or maybe we can all have some fun together, huh?" he drawled the last words, enjoying the sight of your angry expression. "There's plenty of me to go around."
Scowling, you wanted to spit in his face, or slap him, or both. But instead, you just smiled and that was a little unexpected for him. "You're sick, Patrick. And I feel really sorry for you."
After saying that, you turned away from him to pick up the dress – you wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, so you even forgot about the glass in your hand.
"Of the two of us, you are the one who really needs some grief," his voice hurt you like a slow-acting poison, it was excruciating. Before Bateman returned to the kitchen, he added, "Evelyn is my fiancée, and has been all along. What an unpleasant surprise?"
A loud sound of broken glass echoed through the living room as soon as you heard his last words. It was a real miracle that the wine didn't splash onto the luxurious fabric of his white couch, but you didn't really care at that moment, with your heart beating so crazy in your chest. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and stood still, not hearing Patrick's footsteps behind you.  
'Damn, that glass must have cost a fortune.'
"Cupcake..."
"I know!" You cut him off, raising your trembling hands in the air. "I'll return the money...just tell me how much it costs?"
'Don't cry. Please, don't cry!' But you did, and when you felt his warm hand wrap around your forearm, you tried to push him away, yelping:
"Give me...give me something to clean the floor!"
"(Y/n), calm down! You're bleeding." 
"What?" you gasped, opening your eyes wide before looking down at your feet to see blood running down your ankle as a sharp piece of glass sank into your soft skin. Only then did you realize you were injured, a sharp pain hitting your brain like a lightning strike. “Oh, God…I thought it was w-wine…” You stammered as that was the end point for your nervous system.
With no more waiting, Bateman carefully took you in his arms to lift you up. Sobbing, you let him carry you into the bathroom and sat on the edge of his beautiful black tub. Gently, he removed your shoes and stretched out your bruised leg to assess the damage.
"Is it that bad?" You asked him in a shaky voice, trying not to look down at the wound. 
"No, but it would be better if you stopped flinching." He insisted, releasing your leg and going to the sink to get antiseptic, tweezers, bandages and cotton pads. 
As Patrick knelt before you, holding a pair of tweezers, time seemed to freeze for you, but then you screamed from the itching pain as he carefully pulled the shard of glass from your ankle.
"Mmmh," you mumbled through your palm when he pressed a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic. "Shit…I am so clumsy and reckless..."
"You are," Bateman murmured as he wrapped a bandage around your leg. Every move he made was very gentle and accurate. "But still, you are mine."
"No, I'm not," you struggled to free yourself from his grip, but his hands held your leg very tightly. "We both know that's not true..."
Shivering, you peered down at him as he remained on his knee beside you. Almost immediately, his hazel eyes locked with yours, mesmerizing as always. "Why is it always so difficult with you?"
“Ask yourself.”
The moment you attempted to get up, you almost fell on the floor, but Patrick caught you in his arms at the last second.
"Patrick, let me go..." you pushed him into his chest to get some distance, but he didn't even move. "I will leave and forget everything that happened between us. Just like you wanted!"
"I never said I wanted to!" he growled, holding you closer so you could almost feel his fast heartbeat. "Why can't you just be a good girl and accept what I give you?"
"Oh, you've already given me enough, believe me!"
Annoyed, Bateman just shook his head before pressing a finger to your lips, silencing you and taking your breath away. 
'No, no, no. Not again'
You swallowed hard as you felt his thumb slide up to your cheek to wipe away your salty tears. 
'Stop.'
"Cupcake."
'His voice, his scent, his brawny body.' 
"Look at me," Patrick whispered sweetly, and you felt yourself going limp in his strong arms, so you obeyed and let him kiss your temple. "You're driving me crazy and I hate it...because I'm so fucking obsessed with you!"
One sharp breath and his lips were on yours, forcing your hands to claw at his jacket, but Bateman only pulled you closer, deepening the kiss as his wet tongue played with yours. Panting against his mouth, you couldn't help but run your fingers through his soft hair, making it look so messy, but Patrick didn't care. Slowly, he lifted you up a bit to set you down on the sink opposite his bathtub, peppering your neck with little pecks.
"Daddy."
Just one simple word could turn this man into a savage beast, you knew it, but you couldn't stop yourself as your inner nature yearned for him and it felt like you were meant for each other, two broken souls finally found each other.
"Cupcake." He kissed your lips briefly before moving down to your cleavage and unbuttoning your shirt, his hot breath tickling your bare skin.
Everything about him was so intoxicating that your clouded mind refused to function at all and now you couldn't hear your inner voice begging you to stop. 
Quivering, you arched your back a little to give him better access, and immediately you heard him growl against your collarbone as he finally undid your shirt. Patrick didn't even bother to remove your bra - he just pulled it down, revealing your taut nipples; he licked his lips at the sight of them and then his greedy mouth was already devouring one of them.
"A-awwww," you mewled, hugging his shoulders as you literally melted under his touch. "Mmm, please!"
"Please what?" He looked at you, twisting your hard peak between his skilled fingers. 
"I..." you hiccupped from the way Bateman spread your legs as he nestled into you with pure possession, groping your hip and licking your neck. "I... don't know... Gosh!"
This was pure madness, what was consuming your mind, with every kiss he made, breaking all your barriers, the more you tried to resist it, the more it hit you back. Panting, you threw your head back and felt your eyes begin to water again as his strong hands caressed your trembling little body. Never in your life had you felt so lost. Never.
"Relax, sweetheart," Patrick mused into your ear as he slid his palm between your legs. And of course you were so shamelessly wet that you could flood his floor. "I got you."
"I can't, a-aah..." You sighed, tears streaming down your cheeks.
"Yes, you can," Bateman planted another sloppy kiss on your neck before grabbing your hand to press it against the hard bulge in his pants. "I couldn't stop thinking..." he paused, drinking in your stifled moans as he gave your clit a few slight rubs. "Do you think about me, Cupcake? I know you do..."
"Mm-mhh," your hands roamed desperately down his broad back, fumbling with the smooth fabric of his suit. "And I...ahh-I know you don't think about me..."
A loud whimper fell from your lips as he shoved two fingers into your dripping pussy, almost causing you to bump your head against the mirror behind, but he prevented it by wrapping his hand around your neck.
"You're mistaken," his low groan echoed against the walls of his bathroom, sending shivers down your spine and coaxing your inner muscles to spasm around his fingers as they mercilessly rammed in and out of your throbbing cunt. "Because you know nothing about me," Patrick curled his fingers to stimulate your most sensitive spot, gritting his teeth as his aching cock was about to explode with ravenous desire. "Now be a sweet girl like you always are and..."
"Owwww!" you screamed in sharp pain as he accidentally pushed on your wound. “It hurts!”
"Fuck, I forgot...damn it!" He cursed and removed his hand from your leg.
Seizing the moment of his confusion, you slipped out of his embrace and nearly ran for the door, and thank God it was open, because when you heard his almost furious groan, your heart skipped a beat:
"Come back!" 
"No, it can't be like this," you leaned against the door, holding out a hand defensively. "Not after what you said..."
Trembling, you watched him breathe heavily through his red nostrils, his wild gaze seeming to burn you alive as his self-control was about to snap. Scared, you weren't sure what to expect from him next, so you decided to leave this place right now, while it was still not too late.
Quickly, you walked into his living room and grabbed the damn dress, trying not to think about the broken glass and spilled wine. To be fair, you thought Patrick was going to chase you or threaten you with punishment, but none of that happened as he stayed in his bathroom. It was suspicious, but you would think about it later. 
As you were about to leave, you walked past the open door to the bathroom and told yourself to just go and not look back. But when you reached the front door, you froze and sobbed - your heart sinking while your mind was waving a red flag.
'Just leave, please!'
Huffing, you turned and walked back to the open door. The scene you saw was not what you expected, it simply broke your heart - Bateman was standing still by the sink, leaning on his hands with his head bowed.
"Patrick."
"You're still here?" He asked without looking at you.
"I'll go with you tomorrow...but I'm not doing it for you," your voice wavered, but you didn't allow yourself to sound weak. "I just wanted to make that clear."
And then you left him alone in his super luxurious apartment on Manhattan's Upper West Side. No matter how hard you tried to hold back your tears, they kept slipping down your cheeks. Even when you were in the cab on your way home, your soul was still aching because it seemed like the wounds he made couldn't be healed.
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When the night came, there were only a few windows with lights on, and Patrick's bedroom window was one of them.
Irritated, Bateman lay on his bed while a blonde girl sucked him off, bobbing her head up and down at a fast tempo. There was no denying that she was trying her best to give him as much pleasure as possible, but he felt nothing, literally no emotions – only the dark void inside his mind.
"(Y/n), you're doing everything wrong...not the way I like it!" Patrick grumbled, pulling on the girl's hair.
"Who?" She asked confusedly, looking up at him. "My name is Meredith, in case you forgot, honey."
Bateman just laughed and carelessly pushed her down, forcing her to continue. "Shut your fucking mouth and suck my dick. You stupid whore!"
Meredith was making too many noises which annoyed him so much as he was trying to concentrate on dreaming of you—your beautiful face, your innocent sparkling eyes. Although this girl was very pretty, definitely 'his type', there was not a single trace of you and he thought he would never reach his high.
"Mmhm, Patrick…Maybe you will fuck me already?" 
"Maybe," he sighed, watching her laying on her back with undisguised excitement, but then he frowned in a weird disgust. "No, get on your knees. I can't see your fucking face."
"W-what? What's wrong with you today?Ah!"
Angrily, he slapped her hip and rolled her onto her stomach. Without any preparation, he bottomed out, closing his eyes and thinking about the way you twitched every time he thrust inside you. Speeding up his pounding, Patrick finally felt his orgasm building up inside his body when she suddenly moaned. "Oh, yeah! Daddy, it feels so good!" 
That was not even rage, it was something beyond that. Brutally, he squeezed her neck, almost choking her, and growled near her ear as he leaned down. "Never call me that! Understand?" he yanked her against the bed, still clutching her throat, and only when she was on the verge of asphyxia he released her, fucking her harder and gritting his teeth. "Fucking bitch, you should thank me for not killing you."
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Camera flashes never stopped clicking in front of your eyes, you almost thought it was impossible to hide from them. They were literally everywhere, as were the countless supermodels and rich yuppies who looked at them without shame, their hungry eyes ready to eat them alive.
"Hey, are you trying to get lost or what?" 
With a soft gasp, you stopped and turned around to see Patrick's irritated face as you walked through the huge hall, every part of which gave you strong vibes of luxury lifestyle.
"I don't think you'd notice my absence anyway," you replied, walking straight until his arm wrapped around your waist, causing your lungs to spasm from the sudden lack of oxygen. "Patrick?"
"Listen to me," he pulled you closer and leaned down to your ear, whispering in a serious tone. "There are a lot of bad people here who came for more than just fashion."
"Even worse than you?"
He scowled, but continued. "Much worse, believe me."
"Don't pretend you care," you tried to walk away, brushing his hand aside, but he tightened his grip. "Get off me!"
"You're too naive and innocent. I don't want you getting into trouble while you're here with me." Tensed, Bateman stroked your back to calm you down a bit as he noticed the people around starting to stare at you.
"That's very sweet, but I don't need your 'protection'...I'm pretty sure you came here for the same reason as all the other yuppies." 
"I didn't ask for your opinion, okay? Let's get to our seats," he said possessively, easily cradling you in his arms, covering your small frame like a cocoon. "We have the best seats, by the way. Right next to the runaway."
"Amazing," you murmured as he led you through the endless crowds. "Not a single model will escape your gaze."
"That's right."
Frowning, you were about to slip out of his grip when suddenly someone ran into you, stomping painfully on your feet.
"Ouch!" Your loud whimper caused Patrick to turn in your direction, but then he froze as he looked over your shoulder at the blonde girl who was immediately apologizing. 
"Oh God, I'm so sorry..." the familiar voice hit you like a bolt of lightning. "I can be so clumsy," she touched her forehead before locking her lost gaze with Bateman's. "Patrick?"
That was Courtney. There was no doubt it was her, especially when she smiled at him so brightly it could easily outshine the Sun. 
"Hello, Courtney. It's so good to see you!" Patrick crooned gallantly, his arms finally releasing your shivering body. 
But even if a few minutes ago you wanted him to take his hands off you, now you were feeling a bit upset that he actually did.
"How could I miss this?" She asked flirtatiously, completely ignoring your presence. "Where are your seats?"
"Yeah, where are they?" You blurted out abruptly, making them both almost jump. "I just don't want to interrupt your sweet conversation and..."
You almost hissed from the sudden pain as you felt his firm hand on your ass, pinching your buttocks. His face didn't change, though, as he continued to grin haughtily, his eyes never ceasing to roam over Courtney's pretty body. With slight irritation, Bateman approached your neck and whispered in your ear how to get to your seats, then nibbled briefly on your earlobe as a sign of his displeasure, but you didn't pay any attention.
"Thank you, Daddy." You uttered the last word in the most disgustingly sweet way you could and strolled away without looking back. No matter how much you wanted to, you just couldn't.
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Patrick wasn't lying—the seats were really so close to the runway that you could probably see every little detail on the models' clothes.
After about fifteen minutes, it was getting dark, which meant that the show was about to start. You fidgeted in your seat, trying to find a comfortable position, but it just didn't work, your butt was still sore from Bateman's pinch.
As soon as you remembered him, you heard his voice as he moved across the seats to reach his place. Patrick grinned at you smugly as he sat down next to you, crossing one leg over the other and fixing his hair.
"You must be very pleased with yourself, Cupcake?" He asked mockingly.
You scowled and pretended not to understand what he was saying as the music turned up really loud: "I can't hear you."
Patrick just chuckled softly, put a hand on the back of your seat and moved closer. "I said you look so beautiful today."
'God, what a jerk.' 
"Can't say the same about you."
"Uh, such an angry little kitten," Bateman laughed, looking at you from under his beautiful lashes. "I don't think I'll survive this."
"You really think I care?"
And then the show started, unfortunately not allowing you to finish what you were about to say. As expected, the models looked gorgeous and the clothes they were wearing were absolutely amazing—you had to admit that. Although you tried your best not to notice the way Patrick was staring at the girls on the runway, you had to claw at your skin when one of them winked at him without any shame.
"This is the grace I've been telling you about," he bowed closer to you to make sure you heard what he was saying. "The perfect example of feminine beauty."
You smiled ironically and replied without looking at him: "The real beauty begins when the boys come out."
Your sudden statement elicited a muffled groan from his chest, but Bateman simply nodded and turned away from you. From that moment on, he was almost silent, and it was a little strange, but as the male models appeared on the runway, you stopped analyzing and just enjoyed the handsome men walking back and forth in front of you. Everything was fine until one of the models found your eyes in the crowd and smiled at you. And of course Patrick wouldn't miss it.
"Do you like him?"
"W-who?" You stammered, feeling his warm hand on your knee.
"The model who just walked by," he murmured, stroking your exposed skin under the hem of your dress, sensing the way you tensed under his touch. "Maybe you should go talk to him after the show."
Shit, you couldn't believe he meant it or... you just didn't want to believe it?
"I'm not like you, Patrick," you chastised, feeling so damned angry as his words cut painfully through your heart. "You sometimes forget that not everyone is like that..."
"Like what?" Bateman scoffed with a raised eyebrow.
"You know what I mean." You added with a teasing smile and turned away from him, but he immediately grabbed your face, forcing you to squeal from the unexpectedness. 
"No, I don't," he scoffed, pushing on your jaw. "C'mon, Cupcake, tell me."
The surrounding darkness came in handy in this situation, not to mention the fact that almost everyone was focused on watching the show, so Bateman felt pretty confident knowing that no one would notice your little fight here.
"Get off!" You hissed, wrapping both your hands around his wrist in an attempt to pry it away.
"Awww, look at those little hands," he pulled you closer, so you could feel his hot breath on your trembling lips. "You are so small and yet so brave. It fascinates me, I won't lie."
You froze for a second as his words caught you off guard. Blinking several times, you didn't even notice that his large palm was now gently stroking your chin, moving up to your cheek and ending this little intimate moment by pressing lightly on your half-opened lips.
Actually, that was the worst thing he could do at that moment, because his illusory softness and tenderness hurts like hell. It was like a sweet candy with a sharp blade inside.
Just as you realized how close your faces were, you tried to pull away, but Patrick's grip was too tight. Fixing you in place by your chin, he captured your mouth with his, hungrily relishing your taste, your shiver, your muffled gasp against his lips. Bateman tested your limits so masterfully that every little move he made was as precise as his side profile. Slowly he wrapped one hand around your neck while another was already resting on your waist, the kiss you shared was something more than just physical contact, and you let yourself sink into the flow of emotions, closing your eyes and letting him kiss deeper. You almost moaned, but the surrounding music of the show drowned out any obscene sounds that tried to escape your swollen lips.
His strong, warm tongue danced along yours, not even giving you a chance to take the lead, so you just opened your mouth wider and let your noses brush together, forcing your hearts to beat in a crazy rhythm.
God, this man was the darkest curse... the most delightful blessing.
After a few seconds, the people around started applauding so loudly that you had to open your eyes just as the lights came on. The strange delusion that was like a white veil behind your vision began to fade, and only then did you and Patrick realize that you were both staring at each other, your mouths still pressed together.
A second, two seconds.
It seemed as if you were both waiting to see who would break away first, and as soon as you heard someone coughing behind your back, you pulled away from Patrick's strong arms, but you knew that you only managed to break free because he let you.
"Patrick! I thought I wouldn't see you here!" A familiar female voice echoed from above and you didn't even bother to turn around to see another bimbo Bateman was hanging out with.
Shit, what if she saw what you were doing?
At first you thought Patrick would pretend he didn't know you or something, but instead Bateman smiled smugly and put his hand on the back of your chair.
Annoyed, but still as majestic as a lion, he looked up at the blonde and said quickly: "Hi, Meredith."
Her face turned into a sad grimace, though she pretended that Bateman's indifference didn't upset her. Obviously, Meredith was outraged and needed someone to take her anger out on. 
With a haughty grin, she scoffed and almost stepped on your foot. "I don't understand, how can a man like you go out with someone like... her?"
Damn, that was such an obvious insult that it didn't even trigger a single emotion, you just gave her a deadly stare when you finally met her little eyes and you could swear that you saw a trace of fear in them.
"I asked myself the same question," you muttered suddenly, getting up from your seat and looking at Patrick, whose perfect eyebrows now frowned, especially when he understood what you were you doing—he squeezed the back of the chair until his knuckles turned white. "Have a nice evening." 
With those words, you quickly walked away, and you were so damn glad that Bateman decided not to follow you, because with every step you took, your eyes got more and more watery. 
"How did she even get here? Ugly people like that should stay at home to avoid traumatizing anyone." Meredith hissed as she watched your little figure moving away from them. "Who is she?" 
Patrick chuckled, then did his classic move of parrying the question with his natural charm. "Oh, you're so mean," he muttered as he watched the blonde take your seat next to him. Playfully, Bateman pinched her nose and they both started to giggle, no matter how disgusted he felt himself right now, he wouldn't admit that your sudden leaving made him sad. "Such an angry little bitch."
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You couldn't remember how you found your way to the ladies' room, but as soon as you stepped up to the sink and looked in the mirror, you scowled and clenched your fists from the sharp pain in your chest. 
"I... I hate you so much!" You hissed in a trembling voice, not really knowing who you were addressing, yourself or Patrick, who was probably already taking the blonde bimbo to his place.
His womanizer nature was not a secret, so why did it hurt so fucking much? 
Depressed by your weakness towards this man, you wanted to smash the mirror to stop seeing this sad face covered with tears, but you heard someone coming, so you just froze in place with your trembling hands in the air. A model walked past you and accidentally bumped your shoulder.
"Oh! I'm so sorry!" She squealed and opened the fauster to wash her hands.
Even though you understood that she didn't do it on purpose, it made you so mad that you almost ran out of the bathroom, loudly slamming the door behind you.
The moment you realized that you couldn't remember how to get out of here made all your insides cramp like a spring, and you thought you were just going to fall to the floor from a sudden fear of being lost. 'Fuck, not now, not now!'
Quivering, you looked around, searching for... Patrick? But instead of him, you could only see an endless number of beautiful models strolling here and there. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath to calm yourself, but when that didn't help, your legs seemed to give way, and you slipped against the wall until you rested on the floor. This panic attack was nothing compared to the ones you had before, your heart pounding painfully against your chest as if trying to burst through it. Things got worse when you felt the lack of oxygen as you literally suffocated with panic and your body burned from the inside out.
The group of models stood by and noticed your small, shivering form, rocking back and forth with your hands wrapped around your head. 
"Hey! Are you okay?" One of them approached you and crouched down beside you, trying to help you up, but you refused.
"Don't touch her, Lizzy! Maybe she's on drugs. Let's go already!"
"No, wait... she clearly needs help," the models looked at each other, one of them trying to pat your shoulder to calm you down, while her friend tapped her foot annoyingly. "Are you in pain? Did someone hurt you?"
"N-no," you finally mumbled, opening your eyes to see that not only two, but many of these girls were already gathered around you. "I— I'm fine, I'm sorry... I'm just..." 
Lost.
Jesus, that was so embarrassing that the words just stuck in your throat like a lump, and now you felt like a little girl who got lost in the big mall when she decided to run away from her parents. 
"What's going on here?" That voice made you almost faint. "Get away!"
A bit roughly, Bateman pulled the model away from you and leaned down to your shivering form.
"HEY! We were just trying to help!"
"Go away! All of you!" He turned and barked at all the girls watching the scene. "Get the hell out of here, there is nothing to look at!"
Your head was spinning, at first you couldn't even believe it was him, hiding you from everyone with his broad, tall figure, as if he was trying to… protect you?
"Cupcake? Cupcake, look at me," his worried cooing made you submit, making you want to believe that he was really concerned about you. Gently, he cupped your face and stroked your slightly disheveled hair. "What happened?"
At first, you didn't say anything — you were paralyzed, mesmerized by his brown eyes, which were gliding desperately up and down your body, checking every little part of it. 
"Who did this to you?"
'You did.'
But he would never know.
"You came," you replied briefly. "Why?" 
Patrick frowned at your answer and let out a tired sigh. "I've been looking for you since you left, because this place is huge, and I didn't want you to get into trouble, but," he paused and brushed your tears away concisely. "But it looks like I'm too late. God, you're so reckless," he shook his head and stood up.
As soon as Patrick did that, something clicked in your head, and you didn't even notice that you were already on your feet as you snuggled up to him and buried yourself in his arms with a deadly grip.
"Please, don't go!" You begged in a trembling voice, hugging him tighter. "Don't leave me!"
Shocked, Bateman didn't know how to react, his arms dropped motionlessly, but then he carefully placed them on your back, drawing invisible lines along your spine. 
"I have to get our coats. You came here in your coat, did you forget?"
Blinking several times as you looked into his eyes, you replied softly: "Yeah… I did."
Patrick couldn't help but smile adorably. "Wait for me here, (y/n). I'll lead you outside, you'll feel better there." He explained and distanced himself from you. "Don't go anywhere! Got it?"
You nodded, and only then did he walk away. Without even looking back, he disappeared into the crowd.
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Bateman was right, once you left the building your condition improved, and you could finally breathe in the fresh air, filling your lungs with the oxygen they so desperately needed. A cool wind blew into your face, making you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the emotions you were experiencing right now — the fact that Patrick had come for you, that he was looking for you, left you with no choice but to stifle a loud scream that you wanted so bad to let out.
Bateman remained silent, standing a short distance behind you, puffing on his cigar and watching the smoke rise from it.
"Has this ever happened to you before?" His question came out of nowhere.
You shrugged, but didn't turn around. "Yeah... it happens sometimes, especially in crowded places."
Bateman didn't say anything, but you could feel the tension between the two of you. Without a rush, he moved closer to you, watching you hug yourself — the difference in your sizes made him gulp, but he didn't dare touch you. Not yet.
"Why didn't you tell me then?" He whispered above your ear before smoking his cigar.
"Because it doesn't matter."
"It does."
"No!" You blurted out and turned round to face him. "It… doesn't."
The way he looked at you was enough to make you hold your breath and take a small step back, but the next moment you were already trapped in his sturdy arms, the sharp smell of snuff filling the air around you as he blew off several rings of smoke.
"You're not going anywhere now." His voice lowered, and you closed your eyes from the astonishing sensation of being caught in his strong hands, feeling his hot breath on your face. 
"Patrick," you gasped and hugged him back, surprising him for a second. "Thank you for... for everything."
A loud cacophony of laughter and rumbling got your attention and you looked over his shoulder to see Meredith and her friends coming towards you. She seemed to spot you even faster than you spotted her, and now her eyes were bloodshot red.
"Can you," you stammered, feeling ashamed. "Can you kiss me?"
What the hell was going on inside your head?
Anyway, you didn't have time to reflect on this, because Patrick wasn't the type of person who needs to be asked twice. The moment his soft lips met yours, the ground under your feet seemed to disappear, so he had to hold you with both hands, not caring that his expensive cigar fell down. Even if you would blame yourself for that, all you could think about now was his strong hands sliding along your small form, outlining your curves as you let him do it, while he used his wet tongue to make you go limp in his embrace.
Sneakily, Patrick admired your beautiful face with his half-open eyes, probably not even realizing how much you meant to him, how deep you were rooted in his soul. But did he even have a soul in the first place?
When you broke the kiss, you didn't see Meredith or her friends anymore. Bateman noticed you were looking for something, so he turned to look at the direction of your gaze.
"Cupcake?" He was confused when he didn't see anyone. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Uh, yeah! I just thought I saw a familiar face," you lied, trying to act natural. "I... I should probably go home."
Patrick gave you a suspicious glance, still holding you in his arms. "Actually, I don't want to leave you alone after what happened."
"What do you mean?" you asked, a little disappointed. "I said I'm fine."
"Shhh," he pressed a finger to your lips, and you felt the smooth, cold leather of his glove. "I know you like to be bratty, but now isn't a good time. You really scared me."
Sighing, you dropped your head and covered his hand with both of yours. "I'm sorry, I... I didn't want you to see me like that."
To be honest, you didn't want anyone to see you like this because you hated looking weak in front of people. Especially in front of people like him, because it would automatically give him another trump card to play around with.
"Let me take you home." Bateman mumbled briefly, fixing your hair and then rubbing your neck to relax you.
"Aren't you afraid you'll have a heart attack coming to my place? It's not like your apartment in Manhattan."
He chuckled and pinched your cheek, leaving you confused and offended.
"Of course it's not," Patrick grinned and poked you in the nose. "I don't have any expectations."
You frowned and tried to push him back, but he only pressed you closer, nuzzling your neck and leaving a small hickey on it for which you were not ready — your muffled whimper made him sneer even louder.
"That's a pretty exhaustive answer," he didn't even allow you to say anything in return as he kissed you again, but this time much more passionately. "I'll get us a cab."
This man was like a hurricane that tossed everything around and no matter how many walls you built — he would break them down, one after the other, because nature couldn't be stopped. It seemed that you were completely disarmed against your own nature, because it was calling for him, it was pushing you into his possession, and you were already so tired of fighting these feelings.
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There was something special about New York at night, when millions of lights were shining like diamonds, reflecting on the water of the Hudson River and taking your breath away with the feeling of being so small in such a huge city, where the numerous soaring skyscrapers were almost touching the sky.
Tiredly, you closed your eyes, sighed, and leaned on the armrest of the car door, watching the scenery change behind the window. Patrick listened to the music, as he always did, his hands stroking your knee from time to time, but you could hardly feel it, since you were completely overwhelmed by emotions, feelings and thoughts. It was hard to believe that even after all that had happened, you still let him take you home, knowing damn well that he wouldn't just stay in the cab when it stopped at your place. 
Just as you entered your apartment and turned on the lights, you heard his slightly nervous chuckle and little comment.
“Mmm, it's pretty clean here.”
His words almost made you choke. “Did you really think that my place would look like a dump just because I don't live in Manhattan?”
“I didn't mean that.” Bateman murmured behind you, following you carefully down the hall. “Where can I put my coat?”
“Why do you ask? I don't remember inviting you here,” You took off your coat and put it on the rack next to him. “Aren't you afraid your coat will stink  of poverty?”
Patrick couldn't help but chuckle in a husky voice. “You're funny, Cupcake.”
'And why did I trust this man at all? What was so special about him?'
You didn't say anything, only a thin smile ran over your tired face as you turned around and saw him putting his coat over yours. After that, you continued to walk to your small kitchen, and as soon as you reached the table next to the window, your eyes began to search for something.
“Did you lose something?” He asked, leaning against the wall and hiding his hands in his pockets.
“N-no,” you stammered, as if he had caught you doing something bad. God, he was embarrassing you in your own apartment! “Just … It's been a while since I've had guests.”
Patrick hummed something incoherently and crossed his arms over his broad chest, then moved lazily to the kitchen counter when something caught his eye while you were busy gathering all the stuff on the kitchen table — including some books and various papers from work.
With undisguised interest, Bateman picked up the medicine to take a closer look at its name. “Don't you know these things can cause addiction?”
“What?” You turned to see him examining your sedatives.
“How long have you been taking them?” He asked again, his perfect eyebrows knitted together now.
You sighed tiredly and walked over to him, holding out your hand. “Not too long. Now give it to me, please.”
“I can bring you much better medication than this, since it obviously doesn't work,” he stated in a stern voice, without looking at you. “Because the panic attacks are still kicking your pretty ass.”
His words made your jaw clench, but you didn't even try to snatch the medication from him, instead you just let out a soft groan of annoyance, crossed your arms and rolled your eyes.
“That's very kind of you, but I have to decline your offer.” You replied, watching him shake his head in irritation. “Besides, you can only get those pills with a doctor's prescription.”
Patrick just shrugged and put the pills back on the kitchen counter.
“That's not a problem,” he quickly straightened his red tie before stepping closer to you. “I have one of the best therapists in the city.”
“Uh-huh, and the pharmacy you go to is probably one of the best, too?”
He grinned. “Sure, I usually get my meds from the one on Broadway.”
“Good for you.”
You started to saunter away from him, but his hands caught you faster than you could react. The next thing you knew, Bateman was holding you tightly against his tall, broad frame, looking down at you with obvious concern.
“Cupcake,” he murmured in a sweet voice, tracing a finger along your cheek. “I just want to help.”
Damn, this man only had to touch you a little bit and you were already lost in him. 
“Patrick, you don't have to. I—” You didn't have a chance to finish your sentence because your lips were sealed by his. 
Completely defenseless and vulnerable — that was how you felt right now, and it seemed as if he could feel it as the kiss grew deeper and more intense with each passing moment. Cautiously, you rested your hands on his shoulders before sliding them down to the lapels of his suit, fumbling with the soft material and feeling the ground disappearing beneath your feet.
'It's already too much.'
Only when you were both breathless did Patrick decide to break the kiss, but his arms were still wrapped around your waist, as if he was afraid you would disappear like a mirage. 
“You were involved in all this because of me," he paused and leaned down to you again, letting your noses rub against each other. This little physical contact made your heart flutter. “And you really made me worry.”
Bateman said it so quickly, as if he wasn't even thinking properly at that moment. Embarrassed, you shrugged a bit in his arms. No matter how hard you tried to believe this man, all you could think about now was whether you were trapped in his other manipulative, mind games.
“I’ll be fine, I promise,” you put a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating fast under your fingertips and the next second you pulled your hand away as if you got burned. “Anyway, it’s late already and you probably have some more interesting stuff to do.”
His soft chuckling was annoying but pleasant to hear. “You’re not quite hospitable, aren’t you?”
Eventually, he let you go and stepped aside, unbuttoning his jacket — that scene caused your pulse to race. 
“What are you doing?” “What does it look like?”
You crossed your arms and sighed. “Patrick, I really appreciate your help and… the show was really cool, but I doubt I would ever go back to that place again.” 'Damn it, did I actually say that?'
After Bateman removed his jacket, he carefully put it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs and tucked his sleeves. 
“You’re welcome,” he beamed with a cocky smile. “I thought you would offer me some tea, coffee or something?”
“I doubt I have anything good to your taste,” slowly, you turned away from him, as an unpleasant feeling of shame struck you right through your chest. “Mmm, I can only offer you mineral water but it’s not Apollinaris.”
“Oh, dear,” he crooned and suddenly hugged you from behind. “I didn’t expect you to have Apollinaris. Honestly.”
Gasping barely audibly, you covered his arms on your waist with your own arms and cocked your head to meet his brown eyes and for God’s sake, why did he always look so tempting, so captivating, so… magnetizing?
With a sharp breath, you managed to avoid another kiss he planned to pull you into, and it coaxed a low growl of disappointment to erupt from his half-opened lips which were so intended to collapse with yours. 
“Patrick,” you gulped when he nuzzled against your neck, leaving small wet marks along your sensitive skin. “Please, stop. Let me just bring you some water and I want to relax a bit, after… after everything that happened.”
It was kinda unexpected that Bateman decided to let you go as easy as that without even trying to overpower you like he always does.
“And what do you do to relax?"
“Hot bath.” You responded without looking at him. Annoyed, you stumbled past him to grab the meds he was inspecting a few minutes ago, and then you opened the fridge to take out the bottle of mineral water. As soon as you started to pour the water into the most beautiful glass you had, you noticed his persistent stare, which made you almost spill the water onto the kitchen counter. “What?”
“These pills are no good for you, (y/n),” his anxious tone was very unnatural, you didn’t even remember him sounding like this ever before. “Stop being stubborn.”
With a small thud, you put the glass on the table next to him and replied a bit aggressively: "I don't think they're worse than coke."
At first, Bateman just gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists, but then he took a quick sip of the mineral water, trying as hard as he could to play cool.
“Thanks.” Was all he said and that was actually not the reaction you have expected.
There was an awkward silence hanging in the air for some seconds and none of you wanted to continue this conversation, but once you tried to move his hand (that was wrapped around your forearm), his low voice engulfed you like a hot steam.
“Cupcake, I just want to make sure you won’t do anything bad.” “W-what do you mean?” You frowned in confusion and glanced at his hand before you raised your eyes to his perfect face. “Patrick, I suffer from panic attacks… not the things you're thinking of.”
“Then, go take a bath and I’ll leave after that.”
“But I’m not a child,” the more you were trying to resist him, the more your body was yearning for his touch, his large palm on your back was enough to make you forget how to breathe. “You don't owe me anything, this is my problem and I’ll handle this, just like I was doing it before.”
“To be fair, your behavior only shows how immature you are,” he crooned and traced a long, sensible line along your spine. “But, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt since you’re overwhelmed.”
At some point, you found yourself tired from trying to convince him to leave you alone, so you just nodded and quickly took your sedative before heading to the bathroom under his attentive gaze. After all, even if you even attempted to make him go away you would fail because compared to him you were so small and weak — Patrick had power over you in all ways, and he knew that. 
You were trapped in your own flat, what nonsense.
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In a few minutes, you were sitting in the bath and letting the warm water bring you some relief, just like it always did. Affected by sedatives, you didn’t even remember whether you closed the bathroom door or not, but being honest, you didn’t really care, because even if Patrick came here he wouldn’t see anything new. 
The bitter aftertaste of what happened made you feel like shit, and you really didn't know how to find a way out from it. As if it was not enough for you to be dependent on Patrick (you owe him a lot of money), now you gave him more weaknesses that he could potentially use against you. 
'Excellent!'
Hugging your knees, you burst in tears — salty tears that were falling into the water, leaving small circles on it. Before now, you didn’t even realize how devastated you were. You closed your eyes for a second and you drifted off almost instantly, and with each passing moment, your body was submerging into the water more and more.
Meanwhile, Bateman was sitting on the little couch in your living room, which he suddenly found pretty cozy, though he checked if everything was clean enough before he dared to take a seat. Did he really think that people outside Manhattan used to live in dirty, trashy apartments? Well, maybe he did, since he didn’t even remember when was the last time he was in such places.
Ever since you left, Patrick had been fighting the temptation to go through your things to find something interesting, which he would of course use for his own interests. But instead, he picked up one of your books from the coffee table, and as he did so, a small piece of paper fell out. Squinting suspiciously, Bateman leaned down to grab it, only to almost crumple it when he saw your handwriting —  the paper was completely covered with your notes, and they were all the same phrase — "If I want to be loved as I am, I have to be willing to love others as they are." Patrick couldn't count how many times you had written that, but each line he read evoked something strange in him — the unraveling feeling that urged him to rip the paper, to crumple it. Is it compassion that he was so afraid of?
Closing his eyes for a moment, Bateman took a deep breath and put the paper back in the book, no matter how much he wanted to destroy it or forget what he had just read. After that, he checked his Rolex and noticed that it had been quite a while since you had left. Slowly, he got up from the couch and went to the bathroom. His 'sixth sense' had never failed him before, so he decided to rely on it and check on you.
Patrick didn’t knock once he noticed that the door was not closed, he just stepped in, looking for you.
“Cupcake, are you—”
A chilling shock swept over him when he saw only the top of your head above the water. Without a second thought, he ran across the bathroom and knelt down beside the tub to pull you out of the water, and the moment he did, you began to cough, clinging to his arms and desperately gasping for air.
“Pat-Patrick,” you were shaking so badly, so he had to hold you in one place, pressing you against his solid chest. “I don’t know how that happened… I… I didn’t want this I—” “Shh, (y/n),” Bateman cooed at you in order to calm you down, but he wasn't any less scared than you. “It’s okay, I’m here.”
Trembling, you looked up at him — your eyes so red from tears, your heart beating like a broken alarm-clock. “I think I ruined your suit… I’m so sorry!”
Appalled, you tried to break free but Patrick didn’t let you move, his strong arms were holding you like tight ropes. Damn, he was so angry — he could sense his blood boiling inside his veins, forcing his jaw to clench in a silent growl. He was so fucking mad at himself. 
How could he let this happen? 
As this question ran through his bewildered mind, he froze in fear. He didn't know if he was talking about letting you nearly drown in your own bathtub or letting you take roots on his broken soul. Maybe that was the reason you two had bonded, two broken souls seeking for something that would stop their pain, something that would bring them freedom from a burdened life. But how could he help you when every day he was fighting his dark side, the side you didn't know about yet? The side he wished you would never meet.
Never.
"God... I'm so stupid." You cried out, interrupting his train of thought and bringing him back to reality. 
"Shh," Bateman husked, cupping your face. "Stop talking!" He sighed and looked into your blurry eyes, breathing so heavily that it was almost painful. "Just don't say anything right now."
Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe the sedative had a side effect on you, but as soon as he tried to pull you out of the tub completely, your hand slipped down his chest to his groin — your sneaky fingers instantly playing with the buckle of his belt, causing a shaky groan to escape his lips. Dazed, you moved your hand lower to feel the outline of his thick cock getting harder under your touch, but as you were about to unzip his pants, his firm hand stopped you, confusing your cloudy mind and inducing you to raise your eyes to meet his. He could swear no one had ever looked at him like that — so innocently, yet so sinfully. 
"Cupcake, you don't want this," Patrick murmured, removing your hand. "Trust me."
"I do want this!" You replied in a trembling voice, pouting like a child.
"You're so fucking lost right now, you just don't understand," he manhandled you out of the tub and you almost punched him in his beautiful face, but Bateman paid no attention to your attempt to hit him. "Towels, where are they?"
Huffing, he lifted you up, and only then did you calm down, wrapping your hands and legs around him as securely as you could, like you were afraid of falling off the roof of the skyscraper. 
After you pointed at the bathroom counter, Bateman carefully moved towards it to take some big, white towel and wrap it around you — he was drying you off so gently and attentively, it almost made you cry again. 
Emotions were overtaking you.
Patrick didn't even say a word when he was done, he just got another dry towel and swaddled you in it like in a cocoon before carrying you out of the bathroom bridal style. Somehow, he managed to find the way to your bedroom, but once he saw your bed, he scowled and remarked: “Jesus, this bed is so small.”
“I love my bed.” You murmured in reply, hugging his neck and pressing yourself closer against his warm body.
Bateman couldn't help but chuckle in amusement, giving you a brief forehead kiss and sitting you down on the bed. As soon as you lost physical contact with him, you leaned on your elbows, watching him turn around and walk away.
“Patrick! Please, don’t go!” 
Your words echoed inside his head like the most sacred plea, they made him stop and looked in your direction. “I need to remove my clothes since they’re pretty damp,” he checked himself, with a visible disgust on his face. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Be a good girl, and just wait for me here, okay?”
“Fine.” You mumbled and took the plushy bunny which was resting on your bed next to you.
This scene made him chuckle before he left your bedroom. Now you were completely alone with your thoughts, they didn't wait a second to start eating you from the inside again. With your eyes closed, you lay on your back and began to count.
One, two, three…
What if he lied saying that he would return? Gosh, you wanted him to leave the moment you came here, so why were you getting so upset thinking about him leaving you alone just as you asked him for?
Four, five, six…
The inner voice kept reminding you how many times Patrick has hurt you, how many times he made you cry, how many times you felt like a toy in his hands. You gritted your teeth, pressing your hands against your head to stop thinking.
Seven, eight, nine…
How many times have you promised yourself that you would break out from this circle of lies, pain and suffering? 
“Stop it!” You whimpered, shutting your eyes as firm as you could until the tears started to form.
Ten.
“Stop what?” His voice—it was like a lifeline, like a light in the end of the tunnel, it was everything you needed here and now.
The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was his almost naked form, namely his toned tiddies and his mouth watering V-line, not to mention his perfect abs and the small trail of hair below his navel.
“For one second I thought you would just leave.” You looked into his hazel eyes, which were partly covered by his messy, brown hair.
“In wet clothes?” He giggled and stepped closer to your bed. It was so hard to ignore the bulge in his tight white underwear, but you tried your best not to stare at it. “Feeling better?"
“Yes, I think y-yes,” you swallowed hard when Bateman sat on the edge of your small bed and drew an invisible line across your ankle. “Can I… ask you for something?”
“You can try.” His voice got lower, sending shivers down your spine.
Panting, you uncovered yourself, putting the towel aside and letting him admire the view of your beautiful body, a pleasure he gladly took, his thirsty eyes roaming all over your curves, especially your full breasts and your inviting neck.
“What do you want, Cupcake?” His hand slides up to your hip, teasing the sensitive skin and making you gasp from need. “Tell me.”
“I need you,” you bit your lower lip, frowning from how embarrassed you were. “I n-need you more than ever.”
With no rush, Bateman bent down to your belly to press a brief kiss which elicited a soft moan to fall from your shaky throat. “Show me where you need me.”
You were about to lost it at any second, as the mind-blowing passion was crashing over you like a fucking tsunami, and you didn’t even know if you would survive this. 
Could that be the moment of no return for both of you?
Stifling a moan, you took his big palm and guided between your opened legs—the sound of his fingers sliding along your oozed folds made you arched your back and you thought your heart would break out from your chest. Your heavy breathes filled up the room, and once you felt his hot lips on your mound, you nearly squeaked, creasing the sheets beneath you.
Patrick was enjoying every second of this moment, savoring the taste of your skin, reveling in all your little salacious noises when he encircled his arms around your legs and swiped his tongue over your throbbing clit.
That was the last drop of your resistance and you couldn't control it anymore, throwing your head back and mewling sensually: “Mmhm, Daddy…! You make me f-feel so good.”
“Are you sure you want this?” His sudden question pierced through your head like an electric pulse.
Gulping, you got up a bit to look down at him, his cheeks, neck and shoulders were already flushed, his hair was disheveled and his eyes were as dark as night.
“Yes,” you responded shortly, feeling a tight knot forming inside your lower abdomen just from being so close to his face. “Taste me, Daddy, please… I want to get lost… in you.”
“I see,” he said, hovering over you for a moment to grab the plushy bunny, then handing it to you with a mischievous grin. "Little girls always keep their favorite toys close?”
As soon as you held the bunny, Bateman got back to his previous position, fondling your hips here and there, then he kissed your inner thigh and put your legs together before bending them and pressing against your chest.
“Stay like that.”
After saying that, he brushed away his wavy locks, spit on your pussy and made several, barely sensible, strokes along your bundle of nerves, his sturdy arms were holding your legs to fixate you in one place as his ministrations were making it hard for you to stay still.
“Awww, P-Patrick,” you keened and squeezed the plush toy in your hand, feeling so dirty yet so high from the way his wet tongue was painting various ornaments on your taut lower lips. “I’m gonna faint…”
“Mmm,” he moaned against your feverish little bud before he took it inside his mouth, sucking it so deliciously that your eyes rolled back into your head, your inner walls were already spasming. “You’re my sweet little Cupcake.”
“Yes! Yes, please!”
Slurping at your soaked cunt, Bateman let you rest your legs on his shoulders and pull on his brown hair as you wanted to bring him even closer, moving your hips towards his face. God, you were such a wet moaning mess and when he shoved his long fingers inside of your dripping slit, you lost connection with reality and ascended to the apex of ecstasy.
His fingers were moving inside and outside of you like a clock-work, so smoothly and fast, since he knew your body so perfectly, it was quite simple for him to find your spongy G - spot. Once he started to stimulate it, your toes began to curve and your whole body was jolting as if you were hit by the eclectic shock.
The moment of your orgasm was as astonishing and relieving as a sip of water in the arid desert. But even after you cummed, Patrick didn’t stop eating you out, fingering you harder, so your juices were gashing around your sweaty bodies, the sheets beneath you were already wet and you didn’t know how you would live tomorrow when he leaves you.
“Mmmmh, I’mma cum again, D-Daddy!” You whimpered, squirming around the bed and pressing the plushy bunny against your face as you were on the verge of tears – overstimulation hitting pretty hard.
Bateman only growled in response and stuffed your soaked pussy with another finger, rhythmically swirling his hot tongue around your throbbing tip while his sneaky hand traced up along your shivering body to grope one of your breasts and pinch your engorged nipple.
“Ahhh—GOSH…! Pat...” Your voice cracked as you cummed so hard all around his face that your wetness was literally running down his chin. But he didn’t care, because the only thing that mattered for him was bringing you as much pleasure as he could.
Even when he was panting heavily against your abused cunt, and he almost couldn't feel his fingers anymore, he continued to lap at your cleft. By that moment your legs were looped around his head and you couldn’t stop twitching even for a second, with each lick he sent millions of tingles to your lower belly.
“Daddy, it’s t-too much… I can’t take it any longer.” You felt so goddamn sensitive, and your body was like jelly at this point.
“C’mon, babydoll,” he groaned in a raspy voice after he pulled on your clit with a nasty squeal. “You can give Daddy another one, can't you baby? For me, please?"
This time Patrick buried his tongue as deep inside your womb as he could, licking you from the inside out. He repeated the motion, making you climax countless times in a row, until your little frame couldn't bear it anymore. Soon, you drifted off with a smile of joy on your face, holding the plushy bunny close to your chest. Long time ago that toy was your only friend, but now it seemed like you have become a toy yourself. But unlike the plush bunny, it was obvious that you weren't the only toy for your owner.
Why did it hurt so good to be alive?
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You heard a faint voice calling you and asking for help, but no matter how hard you tried to follow it and find it—all you could see was darkness before your eyes. Scared, you moved along the dark alley, surrounded by shadows, shivering from the abnormal cold, and for a second you even thought you were already dead. But when the voice called you again, you finally realized that it was your inner voice, but it sounded so sad, even compared to your darkest days.
"How did you end up like this, (y/n)?" Your own reflection spoke to you, each word cutting through your heart like a dagger. "You're so pathetic and weak, what would Mom and Dad say if they knew about your 'successful' life in New York?"
Frowning, you closed your hands around your ears to stop this madness, but the more you tried to ignore it, the louder the voice became in your head.
"Look what you've done to yourself! Do you really think he cares about you?" 
"Leave me alone!" You yelled at your shadow copy and ran down the alley, but there seemed to be no escape.
"Wake the fuck up! Bateman is just using you for his own needs, and you let him treat you like a fucking toy. Being in debt to him is not an excuse!" You could hear it even with your ears closed and there was nowhere to hide.
"SHUT UP!" You sped up, the cold air hitting your face mercilessly, but you didn't care. "Get out of my head!"
God, it was so fucking absurd to argue with yourself.
Perplexed and scared, you suddenly realized that the faster you were running the louder your inner voice was getting, bringing you a sharp headache as if a million needles cut into your brain at once. It hurt really bad.
“Patrick! Patrick, where are you?” You cried out as the darkness was clouding around you with each passing second. “Please, I need you…” A single tear slid down your warm cheek when you felt your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen as though you were drowning. “Pat-Patrick…”
Slowly closing your eyes, you let the void consume you, which actually brought you some relief, because now you were free from pain and sorrow, reveling in the sweet space of non-existence.
A loud gasp bounced against the walls of your small bedroom, signaling of your eventual awakening. Panting, you sat on the bed only to see Bateman’s sleepy form next to you—he was sleeping like a baby, laying on his back and sniffling from time to time. Shocked, you were trying your best to regain your composure and steady your heavy breathing, not even noticing that you were drenched in sweat. 
Quietly, you slipped out from under the covers to find yourself completely naked, so the next thing you did was find something to put on. Subsequently, you rushed inside your small bathroom and saw Bateman’s clothes drying off on the battery—the memories of the recent events flashed across your mind like a slow-motion movie. First, you were taking a bath—which was still full of cold water—then you nearly drowned but Patrick came in time and literally saved you. The next flashbacks made you lean on the sink and hold back your breath—his eager mouth on your cunt, forcing you to lose your mind and cum again and again until you eventually drifted off. 
Jesus Christ.
Embarrassed, you quickly opened the water and washed your face several times until you cooled down a bit. After you regain your composure, you fasten your terry robe and head to the kitchen as you were so starved that you even had a stomach ache. 
New York was already awake, and the sun was high above the horizon, shining so brightly in the windows that you had to close your blinds and thank God it was Sunday and you didn't have to go to the office because your head was spinning due the aftereffect of your sedative pills. Speaking of them—once you saw the jar with pills on the kitchen counter you threw it into the rubbish without any second thought, yet you didn’t want Bateman to know that he had an influence on your decision. When you closed the door to the kitchen, you accidentally slammed it harder than you should have, and it cracked so loudly that it sounded like a bundle of dishes broke at the same time.
"Damn it!" You cursed to yourself, pressing a palm to your face, certain that the noise would wake Bateman up.
Panicking a bit, you retreated to your bedroom and as soon as you stepped in you saw the man of your dreams stretching out and yawning so adorable, that for a moment you just froze in your place, not capable of taking your eyes off from Bateman’s disheveled hair and his broad chest.
With a low growl, Patrick pulled the blanket away and finally noticed you. "Woah, Cupcake, was that you?" The man chuckled, casually flexing his muscles as he looked at the mirror next to the door where you were standing. "I thought something had exploded outside."
Abashed, you quickly adjusted your robe from his piercing gaze. "Sorry, I can be really..."
"Clumsy?" Smiling broadly, Bateman leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms. 
"Yes, clumsy," you tugged with your fingers, briefly glancing down—damn, he seemed to be the only person who could embarrass you so easily. "Well...do you want anything?"
"Hmmm, let me think," Patrick hummed before he thoughtfully pressed a finger to his plump lips. "I probably have something on my mind," Bateman gave you a mischievous grin when he saw your curious look and smoothed his golden brown hair. "How about a morning blowjob?" Your instant reaction was a mixture of anger and embarrassment, which made the man's face look even more smug. "Relax! I'm joking." 
Of course he wasn't joking—you knew it and couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest. "I'd pretend I didn't hear that," you said, finally looking away from his sturdy body. "How about breakfast?"
"That sounds really good."
Shocked, you took a moment to think about the possible options you could cook for him since you didn’t really expect him to give you a positive answer. “I can offset you with a scrambled egg and some fresh orange juice.”
With a satisfied grin, the man slowly got up from your modest bed and stretched his muscles again; he was definitely making it on purpose. “Oh, that’s nice,” he almost groaned when he cocked his head to one side then to another. “I can’t say the same about your bed, Cupcake… you should change the mattress if you want to keep walking with a straight back.”
And though Patrick was lamenting, you could say he said it almost affectionately—as if he really cared about you, yet you brushed this conclusion off as fast as your heart was pounding right now when the man got closer to you; his tall, massive frame towered over you like a mountain.
“I also would like to have a shower, if…there’s such an option,” Bateman smirked and briefly traced a finger along your cheek, coaxing you to close your eyes for a second and revel in the soft sensation of his touch. “Did you sleep well?”
A sudden question that fell from his lips like a suffocated gasp, a tender stroke on your shoulder and you were already melting as Patrick knew what he was doing, every touch, every glance of his brown hypnotic eyes was deliberate and smooth, leaving you no chance but to surrender to his demand.
“Yes, I slept like a baby, though I can hardly remember the things that happened before I blacked out,” you lied with an embarrassed smile. “You can have a shower and use whatever soaps and towels you’ll see.” Thee more you talked the more his lips curled, especially when you allowed him to bring you closer into his embrace. “But don’t expect anything extraordinary.”
“I won’t, I promise,”  the man chuckled and playfully pinched your ass. “Sleeping beauty.”
With that, Patrick walked past you, leaving you alone for a moment, giving you a chance to pull yourself together. And when you seemed to relax, a thought of his clothes that had been left in the bathroom popped up in your mind. ‘Oh God, I forgot!’
Nervously, you rushed after Patrick into your bathroom to see that the door was already closed, implying that he was inside and probably naked, though you couldn’t hear the sound of flowing water. Embarrassed, you coughed quietly and knocked several times.
“Yeah?” Bateman’s muffled voice echoed through the door. 
“Patrick, I…” a short pause turned into a breathless gasp. “If you’re not already in the shower, may I come in?”
After a moment, the door in front of you opened and you saw Patrick wrapped in a white towel. “Something wrong?”
“No,” you giggled nervously and sneaked inside the bathroom to quickly grab his clothes. “I just wanted to iron your…suit and stuff, while you’re in the shower…” Quickly, you hovered his garments over your arm and walked past him, hoping he wouldn’t ask any questions, despite his surprised expression. “I’m so sorry for dumping your clothes yesterday.”
With these words, you deftly avoid his grasp as you knew he’d definitely try to make you embarrassed even more. “(Y/n)!”
“Take a shower. I’ll make you breakfast as I promised.” 
This time, the man didn’t try to catch you or follow you, thankfully. So, you could safely make it to your living room where you set an ironing board and put his shirt first to iron. Wrapped in thoughts, you didn’t even notice how carefully you were ironing his clothes, you couldn’t even remember doing the same with your stuff but maybe you were just scared of ruining it since everything he wore was utterly expensive. ‘This suit probably costs like my monthly rent.’ Sighing, you put the shirt aside when you heard the water flowing sound and your mind instantly gave you an image of Patrick’s naked body, enveloped in steam and slightly flush from the heat. ‘Damn, I should stop or I'm gonna ruin something.’ When it was time to iron his tie, you ran your finger along the smooth red fabric, draped in beautiful intricate patterns—you couldn't deny that you had a thing for his ties, for all of them—you smiled to yourself before bringing it to your lips, you could still feel his cologne on it. This tantalizing scent was driving you crazy, it fit him so perfectly as if it was made specially for him, but even if that was true, you wouldn’t be surprised at all, regarding how rich this man was. The moment you finished ironing his pants, you seemed to hear his voice coming from the bathroom. ‘Perfect timing.’
Slightly tensed, you stopped next to the door. “Patrick? Did you call me?” When he didn’t reply, you became even more stirred, so without really caring about seeing him naked, you opened the door and stepped in. “Patrick?” Since your bathroom was much smaller than his, you bumped into his massive frame, squealing in surprise. “Oh God, sorry!”
“Oh, Cupcake,” he wrapped his hands around your shoulders before carefully cupping your face. “I hope you didn’t break your nose against my firm chest?”
Frowning, you gave him a dead glare but he only snickered back. “What happened? Why did you call me?”
“Do you have an extra toothbrush for me? I’ll buy you another one and…”
You stopped him halfway and removed his hands to stroll to the sink and opened the cabinet above it. “Here. There’s also a razor if you need.”
Smirking, Bateman sneaked behind you and pressed his wet body against yours. “Do ya think I need to shave?” He rubbed the mirror from steam to check himself, sliding a hand along his chiseled chin.
“I…I don’t know…I just thought in case you need to, the razor is here.”
“Mhm…” he hummed and before you knew it he nuzzled against your exposed neck, forcing you to gasp and stepped back right into his embrace, just like he planned it. “Does that tickle, Cupcake?” 
‘Dear Lord, please give me the strength to survive this.’
Staying still, you just swallowed hard and let him continue to attack your neck, which he did with precious care before, but now, Patrick also used his mouth and teeth, and that was already too much.
"I think you definitely have some stubble," you laughed, trying to turn it into a joke. But as soon as you tried to walk away, he pulled you back into his strong arms, and that was not funny. "Breakfast Patrick, I have to make breakfast, did you forget?"
"Not really, but I need your help."
"Help?"
The man gave you a devilish smile before lifting you up and sitting you on the bathroom counter, not even giving you a chance to protest. Then Bateman took the shaving cream, checking the brand name skeptically, but then averting his eyes, probably thinking it was better not to know. With deliberate, calculated movements, he applied the cream to his cheekbones, moving up and down his face. The sight was something you never thought you'd find so damn hot that you didn't even make a sound, just watched him carefully prepare to shave.
"Have you ever seen a man shave, darling?" Patrick asked in a cheeky tone, surely noticing the way you were staring at him.
You shook your head. “No,” you shamelessly checked on him, following the little buds of water slipping down his torso. “God, this is such a silly question, don’t you think?”
Instead of answering, Bateman flexed his muscles while watching in the mirror and missing the way you rolled your eyes. “Well, now you finally have a chance.” The man winked at you and grabbed the razor. “You know, I really like your place, it’s pretty clean.”
“You already said that.”
“Oh, did I?”
“Yes,” you crossed your arms and turned away just the moment when the man started to glide the razor against his jawline—you thought the blade would become blunt because his cheekbones were too sharp—his every action was smooth and skillful. “That was the first thing you said when we came in.”
“That only means that it’s really very clean here.”
Huffing, you fixed your robe and cursed to yourself, ‘Why does he always have to be like this?’
Opening the faucet, Patrick cleaned his face after the last stroke of the razor. “Can you check here?” 
Confused, you gave him a questioning gaze when he turned halfway, pointing at the apex of his jaw. Sheepishly, you touched his freshly shaved skin, feeling a slight prickly sensation. “I think it’s still a bit stubbly.” 
“Aha,” Bateman acknowledged and quickly took your hand in his big one, briefly kissing the top of it and giving you the razor. “I told you, I’d need your help, Cupcake.” “How do you even do it yourself?”
“The razors I use are much sharper than this one, honey,” he chuckled but once you placed the razor against his skin he stopped moving. “Just be careful.”
The last phrase struck a chord inside your chest and you even stopped for a moment to take a deep breath before you eventually began to shave the rest of the stubble. All the while, Patrick would glance at you attentively, his hazel irises like hypnotizing spirals, so you forced yourself to stay focused on the razor and the patch of his skin still covered in a shaving cream.
“You have such soft skin,” you mumbled mostly to yourself but you were sure he heard it. “It’s so pleasurable to touch.”
“(Y/n),” he suddenly called out your name in a stern voice. “I think we should talk about yesterday.” “No…”
"Listen to me," he grabbed the hand that held the razor and pushed it to the side. "You should stop taking that sedative."
“It was just an accident.” 
“You could die, Cupcake…”
"I...I know...I owe you for saving me," you finally stated, releasing your hand to finish shaving him. "But let me take care of my life."
“Ouch.”
“Oh my God! Did I hurt you?” You jolted in panic, almost dropping the razor as if you were hit by the electric shot.
“Yes, you did,” Bateman glided a palm along his now perfectly shaved cheeks. “With your words.”
Letting out a sad sigh, you put the razor into the sink next to you and reached for another towel for him as you watched him washing his face. The more you kept silent, the more palpable the tension was getting in the air and after a brief moment of contemplating, you decided that the best option now was just to go to the kitchen and cook.
“Toothbrush is here.” You murmured and got up from the bathroom counter, about to leave but Patrick stopped you. 
First, you glanced down at his grasp around your wrist, then you raised your eyes to meet his walnut ones, now they were absolutely dark and demanding. Inch by inch, the man was getting closer, soon you could feel the fresh scent of your soap on his wet skin as he pressed you along his broad form, one hand rested on the small of your back, while another snaked beneath your robe to outline one of your hard peaks, which were visible through the fabric.
“Pat-Patrick…”
“No more ‘Daddy’ again, huh?” he whispered into your ear, playing with your stray lock. “Do you remember how many times you called me like that last night?”
‘No! I don’t remember, I shouldn’t remember this, I…’
“...your sweet voice sounded so good with all these little dirty pleas, ‘Daddy, don’t stop, mmhm-please!’ Uhhh, that was really something,” Bateman crooned against your neck, forcing you to step back until he trapped you between his massive body and bathroom counter. “Got you.”
There was nothing to say more, once his warm mouth latched on yours, the urge to deny him fading with every second of the kiss, especially when Patrick savagely sucked on your lower lip and drew his tongue across it as if asking for permission to slip inside.
Gasping, you instinctively inclined your head to the side for a moment and the man used it for showering your delicate neck with little peeks which then transformed into wet, red marks. This sweet torture could last forever if you suddenly didn’t press your palm against his naked chest in a determined way.
“We can’t,” you protested when he got down to kiss you again. “You’re engaged, don’t you think it’s so mean to…cheat on your fiance?”
The man couldn’t hold back a scoff. “What does that have to do with anything? You owe me, Cupcake, you owe me a lot.” 
Annoyed, you made an attempt to push him away, but you obviously failed as Patrick was too strong, looming over you like a mountain. “If you mean the last time—I already thanked you and moreover, I didn’t ask you to do it, you know?” You watched his face changing into something more impish, the corners of his lips curled up as if everything was happening according to his plan. “You always decide for me…maybe it’s time to stop?”
Bateman chuckled. “Maybe it’s time to finally open your eyes?”
“Are you…really telling me this?!”
“You owe me a pretty big sum of money,” the man suddenly turned the conversation in another way. “And we had a deal…” Carefully, he trailed his finger along your cheek like an artist admiring his most precious creation. “Do you think I’d be so patient with your bad attitude to me if I were not really into you, hmm?”
The last words made you swallow hard and turned away for a moment, as you were on the verge of tears. Did he really just confirm that there was some kind of affection for you from his side?
“I…I know I owe a lot of money, but believe me, I’ll back them soon,” you removed his arms from your waist but the next second, Patrick placed them on the bathroom counter behind you from both sides, not allowing you to go away. “Please, believe me.”
“I don’t need that fucking money,” Patrick barked and unexpectedly gripped your shoulders, but when he noticed the glowing fear in your eyes, the man loosened his grasp and cupped your face. “I need you. Both your body and soul.”
Closing your eyes, you wanted to sink through the ground. “You want me to do things that you can’t buy with money…” you declared with a chilling coldness in your voice. “Other women are okay with being your toys, but I’m not. Now, let's finish this conversation, it won’t lead to anything.”
A tired sigh broke out from Bateman’s broad chest and for a second he even thought to let you go and turned over the page of the story of two broken souls, who met themselves so suddenly. Maybe now was that exact moment he was waiting so long, the moment to open the cards and confess, even though Patrick could hardly believe it would work.
"You don't seem to be listening to me at all," was all the man could say. "And that's not surprising, since no one really listens to me. Because...uhh...because no one really cares about what really bothers me…" He let you go and stepped back. "And you...I thought you were the only person who...who actually tried to understand me and act naturally."
"Patrick..."
He raised his hand in an eloquent gesture to let him continue. "You probably did it all because of the debt, but...I'll be honest, sometimes I made myself believe that you weren't acting like this just because of the money."
"Is this another manipulation?" You asked bluntly, holding back your tears. "How could I believe you after all the things you did to me? How many times did you treat me like a puppet that you no longer wanted to play with? And not to mention that you turned out to be engaged!" You grabbed your head and leaned against the bathroom counter, massaging your temples. "This is already too much."
The man huffed and cautiously approached you. With a soft, feathery movement, he touched your hands and pulled them away from your strained face. "At least you seem to care that I'm engaged," he said abruptly, moving you closer so that your head was now pressed against his massive chest. "I know it's overwhelming, (y/n). But..." the words suddenly stuck in his throat like a lump. "You're not alone in this." Patrick urged curly, running his large palm along the crown of your head before resting his chin on it, inhaling the scent of your soft hair. 
‘Not alone’, you repeated inside your head and looked up into his brown eyes, which were now so stern and contemplative—you have never seen them like that before. This man, oh God, this man was such a mess, he was making you lose the ground beneath your feet with his sudden confessions, but in the end, actions spoke louder than words, even though you wanted to believe him and sink into the strong feeling you had towards him—you simply couldn’t allow yourself to get lost in him as you would burn out like a match.
All the while you were standing like that, Bateman was hoping you would say something in return, but when you didn’t, he just released you from his embrace without saying a thing. Overwhelmed by emotions, you left the bathroom and let him finish his hygienic routine in private.
A bit later, you didn’t even remember how you cooked a breakfast for both of you, the only thing you did remember was his positive comment that it tasted pretty good. You couldn’t help but smile, though your plate still stood untouched. Patrick noticed that, but didn’t make any comments about that.
“To be honest, I really didn’t expect it to be that nice,” he chuckled and finished his glass of mineral water that he didn’t really like. Quickly checking his Rolex, which he wore right after he took a shower, he added, “I’m afraid it’s time for me to go. Can you please bring me my clothes?”
“Sure.” You raised up and quickly strolled to the iron board where his suit and shirt were waiting to be presented to their owner. “Here, I ironed them for you.”
Bateman froze in shock for a moment. “You…ironed them?”
“Uh, yes, but I did it very carefully, I know everything you wear is utterly expensive,” you gave him his garments and he started to examine every thing with meticulous attention. “I…I thought you wouldn’t like to go outside in rumpled clothes.”
"That's… that's very sweet of you, Cupcake. Really…" he replied, his blush barely noticeable to anyone but you. "Thanks…thanks for everything."
“You’re welcome.” You murmured shyly, crossing your arms over the chest and watching him getting up from the table and walking to your bedroom to dress up.
Moments later, you both were standing in your small hallway, Patrick fixing his tie and coat, looking at his reflection in the mirror.
“How do I look?” He asked nonchalantly, putting on the headphones of his Walkman.
Slightly upset, you leaned against the wall, your eyes gliding up and down his elegant, tall silhouette; the way the dark blue trench coat sat on his broad shoulders made you almost gasp in admiration.
“Perfect as always,” you stepped closer to adjust the collar of his shirt. “You’re like a Vogue cover which came alive.”
Fluttered, Bateman smiled and caught your hand to place a kiss on top of it. “And I always believe your compliments, they are so…sincere or…” he paused and looked into your eyes. “...or I’m just fooling myself.”
His usual chuckling now was less happy and it stirred something inside of you, so when you got up on your toes to kiss his cheek, Patrick took it like another chance to be intimate with you. With unhidden tenderness, the man pulled you into his arms to seal your mouths with a soft but passionate kiss which brought some unexpected relief for both of you.
“You know, I…I really appreciate your courage to be open with me,” you suddenly confessed when he broke the kiss, still holding you close. “It’s just that I need some time to think over things and…my life is such a mess.”
"Oh, you don't have to tell me that," Bateman sneered ironically to himself. "Since I know who made your life so messy," he stopped you from saying anything else by pressing his finger to your lips. Then the man slowly leaned down so that your foreheads now touched in the most intimate way. "Promise me you won't take those pills again."
"And you promise me you won't say things like no one gives a fuck about you," you gripped his arm, rubbing his firm bicep under the soft fabric of his coat. "Because I do give a fuck about you, even though I don't really like it."
"We'll talk about...us. That's the only promise I can make right now."
"Us?"
"You heard what I said," he pinched your nose, just like after the fashion show. "I'll call you today and Cupcake?" He leaned down to whisper in your ear, accidentally brushing his nose against your neck. "You're always on my mind, but I still haven't decided if it's good or not." The way he used your words to tease you brought a broad smile to your face, but the next time, all joy faded as the man stroked your cheek one last time before stepping aside to check himself in the mirror. "Hope to see you soon, darling."
With that he closed the door behind him and as much as you hated saying goodbye, you hated the moments like that, when you couldn’t control yourself as your emotions peaked, causing your knees to buckle and you stopped yourself from falling down only because you managed to lean on the nearby wall. The whole thing about your relationship with Bateman was one big mistake, as you would never find yourself belonging to this world—your meeting was a joke of fate—no less to say. Although you knew it, your heart was like a rebellion who refused to listen, to obey, to accept the truth that there were no chances to turn this situation in a way that would help these relationships to become healthy and normal. ‘Normal, huh? Do yuppies even know such a word?’ Laughing ironically to yourself, you got up and went back into your kitchen to wash the dishes. The sight of Patrick sitting here with a glass of water in his hand was still so fresh in your mind, but now you began to doubt if that really had happened. 
All day later, you couldn’t sleep, you couldn’t eat, waiting for his call but he never did it. It was not surprising after the shit that man had done, but today you were really hoping he would keep his word. But your hopes were broken to pieces again, in the most brutal possible way because you really decided to give it a try and believed him.
When the night came to New York City, you were standing in your living room with a cup of freshly brewed coffee, thinking about what would you do next and trying to think less about what Patrick was doing right now…and even less about with whom he probably could be. ‘...with Courtney or maybe with his fiance, Evelyn?’ You snickered sadly to yourself and finished your drink. Coffee was supposed to help you to keep awake but instead it only made you even more sleepy, so you didn’t even realize how you fell asleep on your little couch while putting down the notes of how today’s day had gone in your diary.
The next moment you were awakened by the sudden doorbell, which caught you off guard and even scared you a bit as you didn’t wait for anyone. Quickly enveloping your robe, you got up and saunted to the door to look at the peephole—you would lie to yourself if you said you weren’t expecting someone specific, but when you saw nothing but flowers, your heart skipped a beat. 
With one swift motion, you opened the door and an unknown guy instantly greeted you with a polite tone. “Good morning, miss (y/n),” he then handed you a big bouquet of red and white roses—it was so heavy you could barely hold it. “Uh, can you please put your sign here?”
Confused, you pressed the flowers to your chest to see the man’s face. “Are you… are you sure it’s for me?”
The courier only smiled and giggled. “Of course, but you can check the address, if you want,” the man showed you the paper with the order details. “We make no mistakes, miss, that’s why our service is the best around New York.”
“I see,” you responded and put your signature on the place he pointed you. “But, can I ask you who sent me this?”
“There’s a card inside if I’m not mistaken,” the courier replied and with that he put the paper inside his bag. “Have a good day, ma'am.”
“Thanks.” 
With that, you closed the door and somehow proceeded into your living room where you put the bouquet on the coffee table and began to look for the vase for it. When you managed to find it, you poured some water and placed the flowers into it, then you remembered the courier’s words about the card and the next second you were already leafing through the flowers. Soon, a small white card caught your attention and when you picked it out, the first thing you noticed was two beautiful letters—P.B. in the end of the text which said: 
“Good morning, my sweet Cupcake, 
I’m sorry I didn’t call you tonight, I was extremely busy and didn’t really have any free time, but I hope this little gift would cheer you up a bit. What do you think about going to a yacht club these weekends? I’m looking forward to hearing from you soon. 
Utterly yours, P.B.” 
Your hands began to shake the moment you finished reading, but you managed to regain your composure. Driven by the unbridled happiness inside your chest, you leaned down to inhale the sweet scent of flowers—God, it felt like a dream. And speaking of dreaming—you were still so sleepy that after you finally calmed down, you decided to come back into the bed and nap a little bit longer. The sheets were still smelling of him, coaxing you to rub your face against the pillows and imagine him being here with you and somehow, you finally realized how deep this man was rooted inside your heart. ‘Utterly yours…’ You kept replaying these words inside your head until you drifted off to another dream, but this time, it was not a nightmare, but a heaven where Patrick was only yours, and you were his only one.
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P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!
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inkedbybarnes · 8 hours
Text
his baby
bucky barnes x fem!reader
summary: bucky won't call you by your name.
word count: 400+
warnings: 18+ minors dni. established relationship. tooth rotting fluff, or worse... allusions to smut. a whole lot of usage of petnames mainly being baby, bucky being obsessed with the reader (that's a warning, i say), lowercase writing.
i have no idea what this is (okay, maybe i do) but it happened. really cheesy, but i guess i'm into that sometimes. hope you like this one!
dividers by @cafekitsune!
comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡
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“where's my baby?”
those three words kept echoing all throughout the compound this morning. most of the team were up and awake to welcome bucky, steve, and sam who just arrived home from their week long mission.
but his baby was missing.
“oh, god. here he goes again.” sam shook his head, fatigue written all over his face, but a bit of amusement from bucky's behaviour still shining through. he couldn't deny how admirable bucky's adoration for you was.
“calm down, punk." steve pat his shoulder reassuringly. “i'm sure she's here somewhere.”
“yeah, but where?” bucky asks again. “i haven't seen her for a week. i miss her.”
“you think he remembers her name?" clint jokingly asked.
“she has multiple names, remember?” tony answered. “baby, sweetheart, love, sweets, and.. what's the other one? i swear, there's another, or maybe two?”
before one of them could find the answer, bucky popped right in front of them to ask another question.
“is my baby okay?” his brows were all scrunched up, genuinely worried about you. “did you tell her i was coming home? i told her before we took off. why isn't she here? she's always—”
“okay, lover boy. your baby is alright, she's still sleeping in your room, i think.” tony answered him, finally calming him down. “and can you call her by her name when it's just us around? we're starting to think that you forgot what her actual name is."
“what? she's my only baby, it's not that hard to figure it out." bucky shrugged, causing at least three of the avengers to run their hands through their face at his answer. “and why is she still asleep? is she sick?"
natasha raised her hand, a guilty smile on her face. “i'm the reason for that. i made her stay up late with me last night to watch five seasons of a show we discovered accidentally,” she explained, a proud smile now replacing her guilty one. “she might be a little cranky from the lack of sleep, so you better have something for her when she wakes up.”
“oh, i do.” bucky grinned like he already knew what to give her and was prepared for it. “all of you might want to leave the tower for the entire day if you don't want to hear me giving it to her.”
what used to be the shouts of bucky looking for you were now replaced with the grunts and complaints of the team because of bucky's answer.
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if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌
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peachhcs · 2 days
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i was wondering how sam starts to fall and relize that will is worth t her risk? because i know they went on the one date
the 3 times samy's confused about her feelings and the 1 time she isn't
hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)
samy's afraid to date her best friend in fear of ruining everything, so she spends the entire summer trying to understand her feelings until it finally all clicks.
4k words
wow! my longest fic ever for this series. i loved, loved loved writing this and i'm planning on doing a similar type of style to this soon so stayed tune for that! as always, keep sending in requests, they're so fun to write :)
au masterlist
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ONE
sitting at the kitchen island while ellen helped curl samy's hair, the girl's stomach churned into knots for some reason. she was so so excited for senior prom, but her anxiety wouldn't shake. something was tipping the youngest hughes off her balance, but she just couldn't put her finger on it. luke and her mom must've been taking notice of her unusual silence because the girl hadn't stopped talking about prom all week.
"your hair's gonna look so beautiful with these curls," ellen gushed, breaking the silence in the kitchen.
"you think so?" samy wondered quietly, hands fidgeting in her lap.
"oh for sure. i just know you and will are gonna look so amazing," the older woman continued while samy's stomach twisted into knots again hearing her best friend's name.
luke, who stood a few feet away, picked up on his sister's quietness again. he studied her face, gears turning in his brain, the pieces in his head slowly falling together that answered her sudden shyness.
"i think it's so nice you and your friends are bringing some of the guys. i really think they'll have fun even if they don't say it," ellen continued.
samy briefly nodded, her mind stuck on will. "yeah, it will be fun," her eyes met luke's across the way and because they were siblings, he instantly read her gaze.
samy's friends were the ones who brought up the idea about her bringing will to prom. the brunette didn't have a lot of options considering she didn't like many of the other guys at her school. marley suggested "the hot hockey friend" (her words) and everyone else immediately agreed.
sure, they teased samy about will before and always went on about how hot him and his friends were, but the girl never looked past that. she never gave it a second thought until now.
the days leading up to prom have left serious anxious butterflies in samy's stomach for reasons she didn't quite understand completely. her and will texted back and forth like they usually did, but something felt different. there was something different that the brunette couldn't put her finger on it and the more she thought about it, the more she thought about her friend's teasing remarks and the boys' teasing remarks anytime they all hung out.
"okay, i'm gonna let these set for a minute before we start doing anything else," ellen decided as she shut the curling iron off and disappeared out of the room.
the hughes sibling code was that you never brought up anything around the parents you wanted to discuss, so luke shifted himself closer to his sister once their mom was out of earshot. samy met his wondering gaze.
"what's up?" luke asked in a near whisper.
"what?" for a moment samy played dumb. she feared her little bubble of anxiety was coming off as too noticeable.
"you look nervous. like way more nervous than before," the middle hughes casually pointed out. his sister's face flushed.
"i'm not."
"really?" luke didn't believe her. not even for a second. he grew up with her, so he knew every single one of her quirks making it impossible to hide them.
"yeah?" she toyed with her fingers and avoided eye contact—a dead giveaway for the older boy.
"samantha," luke using her full name meant he was being seriousness and wanted her to be serious too.
"i'm just like kind of freaking out and i don't know why," the youngest hughes finally admitted.
the boy raised his eyebrow, "what do you mean by freaking out?"
"like..there's these butterflies in my stomach and my heart won't stop racing," samy tried her best explaining.
"are you nervous for prom?" luke wondered.
"i-i don't know..maybe? i just..it feels weird," words weren't coming easy to the girl. she looked away, feeling embarrassed that she was even feeling this way.
the middle hughes hesitated for a second, thinking back to a few minutes ago when he noticed how his sister grew quiet at the mention of will's name. "does it have anything to do with will?"
the girl's face blushed around the edges, "that's the problem. i think so, but i-i don't really know."
"i mean you're just going as friends. it doesn't mean anything," luke shrugged until he saw his sister's gaze again and something in his expression shifted. "or does it?"
"i don't know," samy nearly whispered.
her brother finally understood what she was trying to say.
"do you want it to mean something?" luke asked.
"i-i wanna say yes..my heart wants me to, but..my head is confusing me. i don't know why i feel like this about will," she looked at luke as if he had all the answers for her.
"it sounds like you may have..feelings for him? or you're starting to?" his words made the girl's stomach drop. feelings?
"feelings?" her thoughts slipped out of her mouth.
"maybe?"
that didn't make samy feel any better than before. luke quickly cut in when he saw her expression drop, "that's not a bad thing. i had a small inkling."
"inkling? will's my best friend..he's like another brother to me. i-i can't have feelings for him," the girl looked over at luke who only shrugged.
"i dunno, just something to think about. you seemed anxious when mom mentioned him and you aren't usually."
"something about this just feels really different and i..i can't understand why. or maybe i do and i don't wanna believe it," samy mumbled the last part.
"is it a bad thing to like him or something?" luke crossed his arms as he drew back off the counter.
"i mean..no. it's not. i just..he's my best friend. that's all i've ever seen him as. i don't know why things suddenly feel so different," samy admitted.
"i get it. just..see how the night goes? see what happens? for all he knows, it's just a friends thing," the middle hughes tried reassuring her. all samy could do was nod and take some deep breaths to ease the racing thoughts.
TWO
the excitement finally started dying down around two in the morning. people drifted back towards their rooms as sleep filled their eyes knowing their hangovers would be pretty killer in the morning. the youngest hughes lingered in the conference room just taking in the scene of what was once a packed room while everyone congratulated the boys on their drafts.
her parents retired hours ago and the older hughes brothers were somewhere in the building either asleep or continuing the party in a smaller room. it was just her in there staring blankly at one of the walls lost in thought until one of the doors cracked open.
"found her," gabe's voice broke the silence. samy's gaze slid to his as he slowly shuffled closer towards her. ryan wasn't far behind.
"you okay?" the darker-haired boy wondered when he got closer. "we've been looking for you."
"oh, yeah. i'm good," samy nodded as gabe plopped onto the couch with ryan on her other side.
"smitty passed out upstairs in the room. no way he was waking up," ryan laughed briefly. samy pictured the blonde in her head and it brought a soft smile to her lips.
"did he tell you?" she asked the two boys. both of them raised their eyebrow like they didn't know what she was talking about.
"tell us what?" ryan wondered, both of their gazes shifting over to the girl between them.
a small flush spread across her cheeks. she for sure thought will would tell them as soon as he got the chance considering how much they were always teasing him for it.
"he..he uh..we kissed," samy mumbled quietly.
gabe and ryan's smiles grew into the widest and biggest the brunette's ever seen them besides when they scored goals during a game. 
"fucking finally! when did that happen??" gabe exclaimed.
"we finally caught each other in the crowd. we went into the hallway and i guess everything just..spilled out," samy explained what the two missed.
"so what? you're boyfriend girlfriend now?" ryan nudged her arm, a large smirk on his lips knowing the guys owed him now.
"uh..no.."
"no?" ryan and gabe exchanged a curious and confused glance. the brunette's gaze fell away from them as she toyed with her fingers.
"we're just gonna like go on dates and see how it goes and if it goes to shit then that's okay and nothing is ruined between us," she shrugged some.
"i don't get it," gabe said.
"it's like a grace period. we go on dates just to see how we'd be in a relationship and if we aren't good, then it's like nothing happened," she saw their glances and for some reason neither of them made her feel good.
"but you guys like each other..so wouldn't that like..not make sense if you don't decide to be official but you still like each other?" ryan raised his eyebrow.
"maybe..but i dunno. just scared," samy's voice softened out which immediately made gabe and ryan's expressions soften too.
"scared? of what? will? he's your best friend," ryan almost laughed before knowing that wouldn't be the right move.
"that's the problem. he's my best friend."
"i'm lost again," gabe's confusion earned a playful eye roll from the youngest hughes.
"i've known will since we were babies. all i've ever known him is a best friend. a brother. these feelings are still new to me and..i'm still scared. i'm scared that it won't work between us and we ruin everything we've ever had," samy's confession had her own heart clenching in tight knots. that familiar feeling of anxiety returned anytime she thought about her feelings for will.
"hey, i get it. when julianne and i started dating i was scared too. she was a really good friend of mine and i didn't wanna ruin that. i mean..we know will, you probably know him better than us, but he's not like that. he'd do anything for you samy," ryan touched her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze while gabe nodded in agreement. a soft smile replaced the small frown on her lips.
she knew when ryan called her samy and not hughesy, he was being genuine.
"i mean, you should've seen him back in october and before he even realized he liked you like that. he'd never do anything to hurt you or put himself in a position to lose you," gabe added.
"i know it's hard to shake the jerky hockey guy persona, but trust me when i say will is far from that. you know that. if you called him needing something, he'd drop everything for you. i know he really, really wants this to work out between you guys," ryan grinned wider.
luckily, the boys' words eased some of the anxiety building in samy's stomach. she hooked her arm around ryan's, giving it a loving squeeze.
"when did you guys become so good at giving advice? i swear you were teasing me two days ago," her words made the three of them laugh.
"i guess we're growing up, huh? we're not kids anymore," gabe's eyes drifted across samy and ryan's glances.
"i'm really proud of you two. i'm gonna miss you being in michigan with me this fall," she ruffled up both of their hairs making them squirm away.
"i can't believe it's already over. went too fast," ryan hummed, leaning back into the couch.
"you can say that again. i can't believe boston's in two months," a sad smile appeared on gabe's lips.
the idea of her best friends being miles away from her made samy's stomach twist into more knots. she lived for moments like these where the late hours made them vulnerable and anything tumbled out of their lips into the open air. these moments wouldn't happen anymore when the boys headed to botson. everything was changing soon and samy wasn't sure how big of a fan she was of all of it—especially trying to navigate her feelings for someone she cared deeply about.
THREE.
samy's heart hammered against her chest with each step she took onto her front porch. one step matched the thud of her heart and the blush rising to the tips of her ears. will's heavier footsteps weren't far behind, insisting that he walked her to the door to make sure she made it in safely.
all of these little gestures were so new to them. samy was so used to the blonde flying out the door passed her after her brothers in an attempt keep up with them. sometimes he'd even knock into her accompanied with a weak apology as he passed through. having him walk her to the house was entirely new territory in their relationship.
the brunette slowly spun on her heel, instantly finding will's gaze already on her. a soft smile sat on his lips as his eyes darted between her own. his shoulder fell against the one of the support beams, hands slipping into his pockets trying to act casual despite the pounding in his ears.
"i had a lot of fun. thank you, again," samy broke the silence first.
"yeah, me too. it was really fun," will agreed.
everything about them standing inches away from the front door where her parents and brothers were on the other side made samy feel like she was in high school again after a first date. the giddy smiles; the racing heartbeats; the awkward waiting and deciding if a kiss goodbye was appropriate while wondering if the older boys were watching them from an unknown location. 
"next time you should show me around plymouth," the girl teased slightly earning a blush across will's cheeks.
"you haven't seen all of it already?"
the girl smiled, but shook her head, "no, not really. i'd love to get your take on it."
"noted. i'll have to come up with an itinerary for us then."
the two shared a loving smile. samy noticed the way will's gaze briefly flicked down to her lips and the action made her heart flutter.
she decided to help him out by slowly inching closer, the small gap between them quickly closing. will caught on fairly fast. his hand slid onto her cheek, directing her chin upwards to meet his soft lips while samy hoped he couldn't feel her rapid heartbeat beneath his palm. 
the blonde used his other hand to wrap around her hip, tugging her impossibly closer while samy's danced through his hair and clutched his shirt. the kiss had both of their heads spinning until they finally pulled apart.
"see you tomorrow at the game?" will whispered with kiss-swollen lips.
the smile he loved spread across samy's own kiss-swollen lips as she nodded, "i'd never miss it."
he reluctantly let her go, watching as the brunette disappeared back into her house. the smile never disappeared from will's face the entire drive back to plymouth.
inside, samy leaned against the door just taking in the entire date. her eyes sparkled, replaying the way will's lips felt against her own—how passionate and sweet he was.
her high continued as she shuffled into the living room where all of her brothers were still awake watching the tv. they quickly met her gaze and the lovestruck expression dancing across her features.
"someone's smiley,"  jack commented in amusement, turning the volume down a few notches.
"maybe it's too early to say this, but i really think it's gonna work out between us. at least, i really hope it does."
the three brothers exchanged a brief glance. they had never heard their little sister talk that way about someone before—not after a first date. all three of their chests warmed seeing their baby sister look so happy despite them never admitting it. 
"that good, huh?" jack smirked some. samy nodded, joining them on the couch for a few moments before going upstairs.
"he's so perfect. he did everything right and..i just.." the youngest hughes trailed off for a moment while her brothers watched her expression slightly fade.
"i sense a but coming," quinn commented. samy met their gazes briefly before looking away.
"not a bad but..i just..i've never felt this way about someone before. my chest..it feels so..so full. it scares me," the girl didn't know how to explain what she was feeling nor was she sure if her brothers would even understand.
samy's words brought luke back to the conversation they shared a few months ago as the youngest sibling got ready for prom. he remembered how nervous she was—how unsure she seemed of it all. 
"remember prom?" luke wondered, meeting his sister's wandering gaze. 
"what about it?" 
"remember how scared you were then too but because you were unsure about the feelings you had for will because of how new they were?" the siblings didn't know where luke was taking the conversation, but they waited for him to go on. 
"now it seems like you're scared because of how you feel. you're not unsure anymore. you know how you feel for will, but it's scaring you," samy glanced at jack and quinn, getting lost in what luke was trying to say. 
"you're losing me," she said. 
"i think being scared of how much you like someone because you've never felt such strong emotions before is all the more reason to fall for them. to go all in," the curly-haired boy shrugged. 
in luke's weird, roundabout explanation, it somehow made sense to samy. she smiled briefly, letting her brother's words really sink in. 
"plus, we've seen the way he is around you. i don't think someone would act the way he does if he didn't really wanna be with you," quinn mentioned. 
samy decided to sleep on her brother's advice, hoping something would give her the sign that going all in with will wouldn't be a choice she regretted. 
THE 1 TIME
goodbyes were never easy. the cooler breeze of august mornings meant the end of summer. june bled into july. july bled into august. august marked the start of a new chapter, but the end of a really good one. the boys' usntdp years were over and all of them were once again packing up their lives to move out to boston to start something new and a bit unknown. samy sat in her childhood bedroom picking out the best memories to bring to college with her. 
even though she'd only be minutes away, heading to college was something the girl thought was still months away. sitting on the floor stuffing clothes and knickknacks into boxes brought a small line of tears into her eyes as august continued slipping away. 
on one of her freer days where she wasn't busy packing her own life away, samy drove up to plymouth to help the boys. it was also an excuse to see them more before they all left. 
she sat in will's room watching him sort his things into boxes attempting to hold herself together for the sake of both of them. if one them cried, then both of them would. her fingers clasped around some picture frames waiting to be wrapped. a smile spread across her lips when she saw what picture was inside. 
"i've never seen this picture before," the girl commented, casting her gaze towards her boyfriend. will's eyes flicked up, crinkling around the edges when he saw what photo. 
"i think it's from like a few years ago. you were at the game and mom wanted a picture," the blonde smiled briefly. 
the two looked awfully young. maybe fourteen or fifteen? will was still dressed in his hockey gear, helmet and stick in one hand with the other wrapped around samy's waist. he must've hit his growth spurt that year because he stood a good few inches above the brunette and samy knew she was always taller than him until he started growing more. the camera definitely captured the joy because of how wide each of their smiles were. 
"it's really cute. are you gonna put it up in your dorm?" samy teased a little. 
"yeah, probably. it's one of my favorites of us," will's response caught her off guard for some reason. 
her boyfriend had his back to her, so he didn't see the longing gaze. when her eyes finally left him and returned the the pictures again, she began realizing just how many were of her and him. the past two years samy hardly noticed what all of his framed pictures were. she just figured they were of family or him and his boys, not realizing over half of them included her smiling face. 
"you're taking all of these with you?" samy wondered a bit softly, referring to the picture frames still. 
will finally met her gaze again, not noticing the emotions coursing through her. "yeah, that's the plan. i don't know where i'll put all of them, but maybe i'll take them out of the frame and put them on the photo wall instead if they don't all fit somewhere," the blonde explained with a brief grin. 
the boy finally noticed samy's sudden quietness and her soft expression. he approached her, pushing some of her hair behind her ear, "you okay?" 
"oh, yeah, yeah. sorry. getting sentimental looking at all of these photos," the girl mumbled out a small lie. she didn't quite know how to put what she was currently feeling into words or how she felt so loved that will wanted to display her everywhere in whatever room he was in. 
"i know. mom keeps showing me all of these baby photos and finding things as we pack up," he rubbed the girl's arm before leaning in to place a gentle kiss to the side of her head. 
"i can't believe summer's already over," samy sunk onto the bed for a moment, eyes on the ground because if she looked at will she'd definitely start crying. 
"it went by way too fast. college came way too fast," the boy chuckled, finding a spot beside her. 
"boston's so lucky to have you, will. you're gonna do so great there," even though being over 600 miles away hurt, the girl knew how much will loved boston—dreaming of going there like everyone else in his family. 
"wish you were coming too," he took ahold of her hand, giving it a lot of kisses which made samy blush a deep crimson. 
"i know, but michigan's always called my name," the girl chuckled while thinking of quinn and luke. ever since she visited for the first time to watch quinn play, 12-year-old samy knew the university of michigan was where she would be one day. 
six years later, the girl was getting ready to move in and start her collegiate soccer career. 
"you know, gabe said he's not excited to live with me knowing how much i'm gonna call you everyday," will joked, trying to lighten the mood. 
in that moment, something in samy's head clicked. she finally looked over at her boyfriend and for the first time, she finally saw for herself that look everyone has told her he's looked at her with since they were kids. his blue eyes were nothing but orbs of a bright sparkle, entirely filled with nothing but love and adoration for the girl sitting beside him. 
"i'm gonna miss you a lot, hughesy. i wish i sucked up my pride and ego and told you how i felt a lot sooner," will admitted. 
his words exploded something inside of samy's chest. it was that feeling she's been scared of all summer, except this time, she wasn't scared anymore. she remembered luke's words about going all in when you felt something as strong as she felt. 
"me too. i wish i caught on sooner," the brunette chuckled, easing her forehead to rest against his. 
"i'm gonna call you every single day, watch every single one of your games, think about you all the time—" will's words quickly died in his throat when samy placed her lips on his. 
for the first time since the two admitted their feelings for one another, samy knew exactly how she felt about her best friend: in love. 
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auteurdelabre · 1 day
Text
So Much to Lose PART SEVEN dark!Joel x f!Reader
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story summary: Newly settled into Jackson city and forced to go on patrols with the miserable Joel Miller sets off a chain of events and encounters that have you questioning everything, including your own heart.
rating: 18+
tags: Oral sex (m receiving), allusions to female masturbation, brief description of animal violence, angst, praise, dirty talk, nickname: Good Girl, mentions of postpartum, mentions of trauma, dom/sub dynamics.
a/n: Alright y'all I got some amazing comments from a hilarious person on A03 and it put me in such a good mood that I'm releasing this chapter ASAP. The comments really do make me write faster, as do reblogs and comments here... {hint hint}
I love y'all for following me and since I have almost 850 followers (when did that happen?) I'm planning something special for (if) I hit 1,000 followers here, somethin' real good.
Without further ado, here's the chapter and we find out a bit more about our MC's past and she and Joel finally talk about what's going on between them. . . sorta.
Chapter 6 here
___________________________
Chapter 7: Spoiled
You thought that the fear on patrols had abated. Not only were you on horseback, but you were paired with Joel, arguably one of the best shots in Jackson City.
So when he leads you to a path you aren’t familiar with, the first icy tendrils of fear slipping through you. When he orders you to stop your horse alongside his at the mouth of a forest you feel the overwhelming urge to vomit.
“Where are we?”
You speak so softly he doesn’t hear you, he stops just outside the dense forest, sliding off Midnight and tying him off to a nearby tree. He glances over his shoulder to see you still sitting atop Chestnut, your gun on your back and your eyes scanning the perimeter.
“What’re you waitin’ for?”
“What are we doing here?”
"We need to check the forest for traps," Joel explains to you. "The other patrol group sets ‘em up for large game. We check ‘em every couple of weeks." 
"Why can't we take the horses?"
"Too dangerous for ‘em inside," Joel explains. "We take ‘em in just enough to hide them but the roots and terrain are too much for ‘em. Too easy to twist their ankles." 
"Why can't the other patrols check?"
"They do," Joel says gruffly. "We take turns every week. This is our week. Now stop complainin' and let's go." 
You slide off of Chestnut at his order, but you make no move to go towards the forest. Too much is happening, too many noises and sounds and fears.
"J-Joel, I can stay with the horses." You don’t even hide the panic that’s crept into your voice.
"I said let's go," Joel huffs, gripping you by the upper arm and dragging you into the forest with him. He keeps his grip on you the entire way to the traps, almost knowing that the second he releases you, you’ll go rushing from the horrible dense of the forest.
Your feet drag but his grip is so strong that it doesn’t matter. Eventually you fall in line, marching alongside him. He doesn’t see that your eyes are closed, that he’s guiding you blindly through the forest. You simply lean into his grip, letting him lead as you follow.  
When you reach the traps a short while later he finally releases your upper arm. You find you immediately miss the safety of that grip and you are sure to stand close to him as he looks over the metallic traps.
“Why do you put them here?”
“S’where we find most of the game,” he explains distractedly as he surveys them. “Bait hasn’t been touched though, so nothin’s come by recently.”
He makes a circle around the perimeter and you can’t help but follow like a lost puppy. All of a sudden Joel stills. You can see the way his back goes rigid, his body coming to a full stop so abruptly you almost walk into him. 
You hear it, the gentle popping noise and you feel your body go numb with shock.
Clickers.
This is it. You're done for. You can’t even reach for your weapon, can’t even move a fraction. You’ve gone rigid, your eyes blown wide.
Joel raises his gun and you wait for the creature to come charging out of the woods.  You're confused when it goes off and a large bird falls to the ground away from you, thudding to the ground.
You’re still frozen in spot, watching as Joel walks over to it, nudging it with his foot. Satisfied he takes it by the beak, carrying it back to where you still stand looking terrified. His brows quirk.  
“S’wrong with you?”
"I thought it w-was one of them,” you whisper. “A clicker."
"Clickers sound different," Joel tells your blanched face. "More of a wet sound. But these birds sorta sound like em. S'why I kill em when I can." 
Joel looks to see your gun still strapped to your back, not even produced and you see irritation cross his face. 
"What would you do if you saw a clicker heading your way?" Joel asks you as the two of you walk through the forest back to the horses. "If you had no weapon and I wasn't here?"
Joel isn't one for casual conversation so you're immediately on guard. This is a test. But one you don't know how to pass. You glance around at your surroundings, noting the rocks and fallen branches from the trees. 
"Fire maybe?"
"You're gonna hunker down and build a fire while an infected is racin' towards you?" Joel scoffs. 
"Oh right," you mumble, feeling shame paint your cheeks. Your eyes scan around you again.  "Get a sharp stick? Stab it?"
"You get close enough to stab one you're already dead."
"A rock-"
Joel's deadened stare thrown over his shoulder at you stops you from guessing further and humiliating yourself. The two of you continue walking in silence before he finally breaks it. 
"If you see something coming towards you and you don't have a weapon, you gotta think smart," Joel explains. "You climb a tree, a good sturdy, tall one with thick branches. Infected can't climb trees."
"I've seen ‘em climb ladders," you argue. "And cars."
"Barely," Joel says patting the large tree trunk to his right. "And they'll only try to climb if they hear you up there. Once you're in the trees you stay still and quiet. Same goes for Raiders. You hide yourself in the tree and don't move. It's your only hope." 
"Okay."
"Repeat it."
"If I am unarmed and in danger I need to climb up a tree," you reply flatly. "I need to remain quiet and out of sight."
“Good.”
You shakily make it back to the horses and continue on with your usual patrols. When you get inside the old building and finish your log notes you pause to look at your dual signatures. How his wide printing almost looks like its shielding your tiny script.
He’s not as sullen as usual and you know it’s because of what’s going to happen. You share your lunch in an easy silence before you’re on your knees between he and the wall, your eyes covered by the red scarf, your hands bracing your thighs. His cock fills your mouth deliciously and you feel warmth blooming behind your ribs.
“Swirl your tongue,” he orders breathlessly and you acquiesce. You love that he tells you exactly what he wants. You love how good it feels to do this right, to have the rest of the world fade away, where all you can hear and smell and taste is Joel. To feel his heavy hand on the crown of your head, holding you gently in place.
He barely talks, just let's you bob your mouth along until you feel that familiar stutter of his hips that tells you he's close. He comes quickly today, his voice gruff.
"Swallow it down."
When you pull off him minutes later he doesn't unwind the scarf right away. You hear him breathing above you as he tucks himself away. Moments pass and you sit patiently, head cocked in curiosity. You feel as if he's staring at you, and you can't understand why. 
Finally he comes to unwind the scarf from around your eyes. You expect him to wordlessly walk from you, but instead he’s panting softly, his cheeks stained with red. He looks at your mouth, his tongue trailing over his lower lip.
"Show me your tongue," he demands in a low voice.
Even though this request seems unlike him you tilt your head back, opening your mouth widely and sticking out your tongue to show your clean tongue. 
You feel strangely vulnerable pierced by the quiet gaze of Joel Miller. You've done much filthier things than stick out your tongue but you're never been looking at him while you do it, able to see the haunted eyes that stare back at you.
"Good girl," he rasps.
You watch him zipping and buttoning his jeans before he casts one last look at you. He blinks slowly and then strides from the room, his face back in its customary scowl.
You listen for the front door downstairs to open and shut. You can’t even make it to the bathroom before your hands are sliding under your jeans and you’re whimpering as you bring yourself off to the rumbling chorus of good girl that echoes in your mind.
///
Later that week you artfully arrange the paper flowers in an amber wine bottle you got from the Tipsy Bison. You rest it on your kitchen table smiling at the colorful arrangement. After making Maria's second bouquet you found yourself eager to make one of your own to brighten the space. You like looking at it, enjoy seeing the bright colors in your unadorned home.  
You take the secondary bouquet of colorful flowers and wrap them in a strip of old cloth. The weather is drizzling and you don't want them to be ruined. You hide them in a small linen bag you use for groceries and then pull on your coat. 
The walk towards the dining hall is pleasant despite the drizzle and you're surprised at how many of the children laugh and run through the falling droplets. When you were a child there were always video games and television shows to occupy your space indoors on gloomy days. These children have none of those luxuries but you can’t help but observe that they look more joyful than you ever did.
No wasting life. 
Breakfast with Jennifer is a quick affair. She’s with that group of friends you met a while ago. The only one who stands out to you is tall Luke with the easy smile and soft countenance. He makes you feel at ease when you’re around him.
“Have you been practicing your shooting?” Jessica asks, looking effortlessly beautiful in her oversized sweater. Luke glances up from his breakfast, intrigued at the conversation. You pretend not to notice.
“Uh, not really. I don’t have a working gun of my own.”
Jessica is wide-eyed. “How could you not tell me? I have one that I don’t even use anymore! Come by tomorrow and I’ll show you how to use it.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Jennifer insists with a smile that makes you feel warm from the inside out.
You’re incredibly grateful for the kindness Jennifer has shown you, and despite how popular and well liked she is, she’s taken you under her wing. She has nothing to gain from it – except perhaps intel on Joel which you never seem to have. But you’ve noticed she asks about him less, she’s more interested in you.
It’s like she might be your friend. The first real friend you’ve had in a long time.
The walk over to Maria’s place is a quick one. The raindrops have stopped thankfully, but you worry that the swollen grey clouds above you might open up at any second.
The door opens on your first rap as if Tommy was waiting for you to arrive. He gives you a warm greeting, opening the door further and the aroma of fresh coffee floats out to greet you.
"Hi. Is Maria around?"
"Yeah she is, we actually have some folks over now-"
"That's fantastic," you say to him quickly before producing the flowers from inside the makeshift wrapping. "I tried some new designs out. Thought Maria would like 'em. Have a good morning."
He takes the bundle from you before you prepare to take off. You're so happy to hear that Maria is doing better; it makes your heart feel full.
"Wait, I wasn't sayin' that so you'd go," Tommy chuckles, long fingers touching your shoulder to stop you from leaving. "Come inside. We're havin' coffee. Maria’d love to see you." 
You pause before you think of what awaits you at home: nothing really. An empty house, no family, no books you haven't already read over and over. What could it hurt especially when it seems like his desire to have you come in might be sincere?
"Okay." 
You’re about to toe off your shoes when you notice the scuffed boots and mud splattered sneakers sat next to the door and you feel your stomach flip. You recognize those boots.
Tommy doesn’t notice your sudden reluctance, he simply ushers you into the living room where everyone sits chatting quietly before the fire. Maria and Ellie are deep in conversation next to each other on the couch. Joel sits in one of the armchairs, his ankles folded. He looks so at ease, his eyes on Ellie and a paternal look of love in his eyes.
The second you enter the room however and his dark eyes move to take you in, you see the gentle curl of his mouth disappear.
Good girl.
You feel a flutter of nerves go through you and you force your attention to the back of Maria’s head.
“Look who dropped by with more flowers,” Tommy announces before looking at you. “You want a coffee or somethin’?”
“No, I’m fine thanks.”
Maria looks up from where she sits next to Ellie on the couch and smiles at you. Joel gives you a lazy once over before turning his attention to the gently roaring fire. You don’t miss the tic in his jaw and for a moment you actually feel guilty that you’ve broken up this peaceful morning for him.  
“I’m so glad you came back,” Maria enthuses, her dark eyes shining with delight. “Please come take a seat.”
You settle into the empty chair by the fireplace opposite Joel as Tommy hands the flowers to Maria. You haven't seen Ellie much since she got irritated with you about the whole Jennifer thing. You give her a tentative smile from across the room, grateful when she returns it. 
"That's so cool," Ellie marvels, touching the paper petals gently.
"I wish I knew how to make these," Maria sighs happily as she gazes at them. "Seeing the other ones every day makes the place feel so cheerful. I'm gonna put these ones in the baby's room."
"I could teach you how to make them if you wanted," you offer gently. "It's not too complicated."
You hope you don’t sound pathetic and needy. There’s something about Maria’s vulnerability that calls to you. It makes you want to protect her in some way. You realize belatedly that it’s not just your Aunt she reminds you of, but your sister.
"I don't think I'd have the patience," Maria says with a gentle wave of her hand. "I just like looking at them."
"I wanna learn," Ellie pipes up, making you suppress a pleased grin. "I like flowers."
"Since when?" Joel murmurs with a smirk. You sneak a glance at him before looking back to Ellie who frowns at her father-figure.
"I've always liked flowers."
"Thought you were dead set on learnin' to bake," Tommy muses over his coffee mug. “I
"Maybe I wanna learn both," Ellie snarks back at him. "Is that a fuckin' crime?"
"Language," Joel mutters in her direction. 
"I'm happy to teach you both," you say with a little laugh to yourself. "Thought I can't say I'm an expert on either."
"Really?"
"Yeah, of course," you say before your eyes sail over to the unmoving authority figure by the fireplace. "If that's okay with you?"
"Only if she's done with her chores," Joel finally supplies with a sigh, gripping his coffee mug a little tighter. "And if you don't break the damn oven."
Of course his assumption would be that you'd break something. You try to hold in the grimace that threatens to spill over your features. 
Ellie makes a little hiss of victory before giggling at you. You feel the frost from your Jennifer misstep is behind you now. The sound of Douglas’ cries break into the room and both Maria and Tommy quickly move into the bedroom to console him. You look back at Ellie.
"How's school?"
"Boring," she answers honestly. "Can't wait until I'm done with it."
"I miss it," you tell her honestly as you shift in your chair. "I really loved being in class, sharing ideas, learning."
"You're weird."
"Ellie," Joel warns. 
"S'fine," you say with a soft chuckle. "I am weird."
Before Joel can reply Maria and Tommy have re-entered the room with Tommy holding a drowsy Douglas in his arms with Maria trailing after the two of them. 
"He heard your voice and wanted to say thank you for the flowers," she says kindly. 
You smile as Douglas is placed gently into your arms by Tommy while the glossy eyed Maria looks on. You smile down at the sweet angelic face, your voice a soft murmur. 
"Well, you're very welcome, Douglas." 
The baby blinks, grunting a moment and wiggling. He's warm in your arms, but not heavy. You slowly rock him in your embrace inhaling the sweet scent of milk and that intoxicating baby smell.  
"Hello," you coo softly at him as he stretches. Maria joins Tommy on the couch next to Ellie, curling her legs under her. 
The rest of the group has begun talking about the movie playing this weekend. Trying to decide between a western and some Disney thing someone found on patrols. You're distracted by Douglas' long eyelashes over caramel skin. The pout of his pink mouth and the way he gurgles a toothless smile up in your direction. 
"Adorable," you murmur, grazing his cheek with the pad of your thumb. "Aren't you just the sweetest thing, little Miller?"
You grin widely down at him, wanting to press a kiss to his downy forehead but holding back. He's not your family after all. Instead you take his tiny hand in yours, marveling at the perfection of his small fingers dwarfed by your own. 
"He's so perfect," you mutter more to yourself than anyone else. 
"Gets his good looks from his mama," Tommy says throwing his arm over Maria's shoulders. He presses a kiss to her cheek as she grins. 
"Ain't that the truth," Joel murmurs, drawing a good natured chuckle from Tommy. 
"You want kids?" Ellie asks you bluntly, forcing the attention of the room your way. You take a moment to consider the question. 
"I dunno," you finally answer honestly. "Never really thought about it."
"I sure don't," she replies easily. "They're noisy, they stink, and they’re just too much work."
"Same could be said for teenagers," Joel murmurs behind his coffee cup, drawing chuckles from everyone but Ellie who gives him a playful shove. 
You suppress a smirk before your finger traces down the soft cheek of Douglas''. He blinks up at you, gurgling again.
"Motherhood looks natural on you," Maria says in a voice laced with sorrow. You know what she's thinking. Tommy is glancing at her with concern in his features. 
"Not as natural as on you, Maria," you assure her kindly. "I promise."
Maria nods but it's clear she doesn't believe you. You don't know that you believe you either. But she needs to hear it, needs to know that she possesses it even if it doesn't feel like it right now. 
Tommy shoots you a grateful smile that you return. You can only imagine how hard it is to love someone so much and not be able to fix them. To have so few options to help now in this new world. 
"So you’re interested in the kitchen still, Ellie?" Tommy teases her. "Gonna whip us up somethin’ good? Be a real Martha Stewart?"
Ellie wrinkles her nose. "A who?"
Ellie starts talking about the kitchen but you're distracted by the bundle in your arms. Douglas has fallen asleep again and his tiny snores makes your mouth curl into a bemused smirk. 
You feel eyes on you and when you glance up you're surprised to see Joel's steady gaze on you holding the baby. When he catches you looking his way, his eyes snap over to his brother who is explaining all about Martha Stewart.
"We've got stuff to do," Joel says pushing himself up from the chair. "C'mon Ellie."
"I wanna stay."
"You've got chores," Joel tells her firmly. "And you've put ‘em off all week. Let's go."
His tone is stern but his face is pure patience as Ellie sighs dramatically. She comes to a stand sighing again and about to leave when she seems to remember something and steps towards you, her face suddenly animated.
"How about Sunday for baking? You can come to ours."
Go to Joel’s house? The thought has you in a panic, your eyes darting from her to Joel. "Uh, if it's okay with-."
"Joel is that okay?" Ellie claps her hands in front of her dramatically and she turns to face him. "Pleeeeeease?"
Joel moves his tongue to the corner of his cheek, looking thoughtfully at Ellie’s desperate face before sighing wearily.
"Just tell me what I need to get," Joel says to the space beside your head. "Eggs ‘n stuff like that."
"Sure. I'll give you a list on Thursday." 
Joel nods, still not making eye contact with you but that's okay. You don't really want him to. Just the mention of Thursday has you slick between your legs. You may not like Joel Miller but the thought of what the two of you get up to on patrols makes it easy to get through uncomfortable interactions with him.
The door creaks shut behind them as they leave and you take a few moments to rock the baby in your arms until Maria gives a soft yawn and you worry you’ve overstayed your welcome.
"I should probably go too.”
"Don't go," Maria insists almost desperately, her eyes wide. "He looks so happy with you holding him." 
You see the tears gathering in her eyes and you adjust the baby in your arms before sliding off your chair. Tommy seems to sense that you need privacy because he gathers the empty mugs and walks into the kitchen to wash them.
You stand, coming to sit next to Maria on the warm couch. She looks at Douglas warily, as if he's a stranger's child. 
"Hold him, Maria." 
"I can't."
"You can," you insist softly. "He's your son."
"I know he is," Maria says, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes. "I look at him and I'm so confused. I carried him; I fed him with my own body. Why don't I feel that connection like other mom's do?"
"You're not the only one," you tell her, hand on her shoulder. "My aunt went through the same thing. Gave birth to my cousin and felt nothing. She wasn't herself for months. You’re not alone, Maria. You’re not a bad mom; you’re not a bad person. This isn’t something you’re doing on purpose. It’s your brain.”
Maria shakes her head, as if the words don’t mean anything. You know she hears them, but she can’t accept them.
“You have a husband and friends to support you. I promise you that you'll get to the other side. I promise." 
You know that it's a heavy gamble. But she needs to know that there's hope. She needs to know that this illness has plagued women across centuries. She looks at Douglas’ sleeping frame and after a moment of hesitation she allows you to place him in her arms. You watch as her eyes get soft, her breathing slowly decreasing.
"Some days I really feel like he's mine," Maria murmurs as she drags a gentle finger down the slope of his tiny nose. "Some days my heart feels like its overflowing. And sometimes that's worse than not caring."
You're silent, just listening to her speak. 
"Love makes you weak and afraid. I've never been afraid of anything," Maria tells you, rocking Douglas gently in her arms. "But now that's all I am. Like one exposed nerve.”
Fat tears are sliding down her cheeks. You can’t help but run a soothing hand down her spine, rubbing up and down gently. She accepts your touch, even melts back into it.
"We shouldn't have done it," Maria hiccups a sob. "We were fucking idiots to have a baby in this world."
“You aren’t an idiot,” you insist. “You and Tommy loved each other so much you wanted to create life together. How is that stupid? That’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”
Maria sniffles, tears dropping onto the blanket holding Douglas.
“All I can think about is what I'd do if Raiders broke in. Or what if Douglas got bit? Or what would happen if Tommy and I got killed on patrols?  I'm terrified to leave him alone. Terrified that something is gonna happen to him if me or Tommy aren't around."
You can hear the clattering of mugs being washed in the kitchen. You wonder if Tommy is listening and you hope that he is, because you worry he might be having the same fears.
“Douglas is going to grow up, just like all the other kids in Jackson City. Happy and safe and loved. He’s going to grow up to be a good person just like his parents. He’s going to be smart and kind and who knows, maybe he’ll be part of finding a cure.”
Maria blinks over at you as if just realizing this possibility.
"Maria I never had kids," you tell her, hand rubbing over her own. "But I had a younger sister and she felt like my kid sometimes. Especially when my parents got separated when we were fleeing the city.
Maria stares at you, rubbing the tears from her eyes.
"When the pandemic started my mom was visiting her Aunt in Wyoming," you explain. "My sister and my dad and I, we escaped to the nearest QZ." 
“I never saw my Mom again,” you explain and you’re shocked at how deadened your voice sounds. It’s no longer a hurtful memory, more just a patchwork on the quilt of your trauma. Its life, you’ve accepted it. “The first day I got here I was sure I’d find her here. Sure that she survived somehow.”
“But she wasn’t here,” Maria finishes for you. “I would have recognized the last name.”
You shake your head slowly. “She wasn’t here.”
You think Maria might want to ask more about your history but you hear Tommy's voice filter in from the kitchen. 
"Joel, what're you still doin' here?"
Your head snaps to look over your shoulder. Joel is here? Had he heard anything? The thought curdles your insides. It was hard enough sharing this much with Maria. Knowing that Joel might have overheard is much worse. 
"Saw Jason out by the gates and he said that the lumber’s coming in Saturday,” Joel mutters. You can't see him in the next room but you hear the scrape of his boots on the wood flooring. "Thought you’d wanna know so you could get a group together.”
The two men mumble back and forth to each other and you hear the telltale sound of the door opening and closing behind Joel. You feel your heart hammering in your chest, suddenly anxious at the thought that Joel knows about your life. 
Tommy enters back into the room, his eyes on Maria. He sees her holding Douglas and you can see the sun break into his previously cloudy eyes.
"I should get going." You stand, looking down at Maria’s tear-stained face. "Sorry for showing up unannounced."
"You're welcome anytime," Tommy assures you warmly before coming to sit next to his wife. He slings his arm around her shoulders, looking down at his son in her arms.  
"Yeah," Maria agrees with a watery smile. "Please stop by again soon. I mean it."
“Okay, I will.”
///
Joel seems strange on patrols today. 
It started with handing him the list of supplies you’d need for baking. Instead of a smart remark he just nodded, taking it from you and shoving it into the back of his jeans pocket. The ride to Teton Village had been in its usual silence, you noticed that the snow from last week had turned into a slushy mess which meant the horses moved a little slower.
By the time you reached the old building with its log book you were more than a little eager. You’d woken up that morning particularly slick between the legs, a Pavlovian response to patrol days.
Joel is still near silent, not even looking at you when he brings out his bag for lunch. He pushes your sandwich and thermos to you, watching you carefully as you eat. Normally Joel stares anywhere but your face during patrols, unless he’s getting angry with you. Today however he seems a bit tense, his gaze a bit heavier than usual. 
It makes you uncomfortable. It makes you wonder what he’s thinking.
“I feel like Chestnut was walking a little weird the last mile or so,” you observe to break the silence. “Do you think you could take a look at his horseshoe before we go?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks.”
The quiet stretches on,
“So what was the lumber for?”
“Huh?”
“You mentioned lumber back at Tommy’s,” you say, feeling like the peanut butter is sticking to the roof of your mouth.  “I was wondering what it was for.”
“S’for repairs on the window upstairs,” he tells you gruffly, taking a large bite of his sandwich.
“Oh right.”
You decide not to press things; he doesn’t seem to be in the chatting mood.  Lunch passes slowly, despite your anticipation for what comes next. Your heart is actually thrumming when Joel wipes his hands on his jeans and tilts his head for you to follow him.
You go into the room with the fireplace and couch and watch him shift into a comfortable seated position. The old frame creaks under his bulk and he stares at you standing, waiting and watching him.  He undoes his belt buckle, the clinking noise causing your thighs to press together tightly.
You walk towards him, eyes on his large hands.
"On your knees."
You acquiesce without thought, your jeans biting into the cold floorboards below. Joel watches you from under hooded eyes. The sight of him seated there disheveled, belt unbuckled and legs spread does something to you.
When he doesn't make a move for your scarf or anything else you feel a prickle of insecurity go through you. You blink up at him, swallowing only to have him frown down at you. 
"Do you actually like this?"
You don't like the way he says it, like there's something wrong with you if you do. You stand shakily, your eyes on the floor as you give him your murmured response.
"I do, yeah." 
Joel is a statue with eyes that burn like coal. You feel them even if you don't see them until you peer at him still seated insouciantly there on the couch. 
"You like me orderin' you around?" His voice is grated around the edges, his eyes holding nothing but disbelief. "Tellin' you what to do?"
"I like you being in charge," you correct.
"Why the fuck would you want somethin' like that?” Joel insists, cheeks pinking. “Someone orderin' you around?" 
"I think you need it the same way I do. Only you need to be giving the orders. Am I right?" 
Joel swallows and you see his large eyes widen a fraction as he takes in your words. You feel strangely emboldened by his lack of response, by the fact that you’ve taken him by surprise. And perhaps since you’ve been doing this for over a month you feel that you can voice this.  
"Am I right?"
He still doesn't reply, instead he crosses his thick arms over his chest and just stares you down. It doesn't intimidate you like it once did, but it does prompt you to answer him. 
"Because when you make the rules and do the ordering my mind goes quiet," you explain softly. "I'm not afraid, I'm not angry, I'm just... Free. I'm not in control but I'm choosing not to be." 
And you know just by the way his shoulders relax that Joel understands. He understands because it's what happens when he has you under his palm, mouth sliding on his cock, when he wraps the scarf around your eyes and tells you not to touch.
The choosing. The control. 
You’d known from the very first time he'd given you the order. You'd seen in there in the dark of his eyes that he liked the dynamic.
But you sense the hesitancy in him, a guilt that he shouldn't be enjoying it so much. His eyes take on a large, wounded appearance and it’s so clear that he’s wondering if he’s done something wrong.
"You've never given me anything I didn't want, Joel.” 
That seems to get through to him, because he blinks away that little lost boy gaze. 
You lower yourself to a kneeling position at his feet again. But you make no move to touch him. You simply bow your head, your hands clasped demurely on your thighs. You hear him shift unconsciously in his seat. 
"What're you doin'?"
"Tell me what to do, Joel."
You stare at his boots, never venturing to his face but you can feel him watching you, his large hand twitching at his side on the cushion. He looks down at you with uncertainty as you eventually tilt your face up to him. 
"Tell me what to do," you urge him again in a voice barely above a whisper. "Please."
You feel a rush of relief go through you when he nods and you can see the hard length of him through his jeans. You gingerly pull the scarf from around your neck, letting it hang in your grip loosely. You wait for him to retrieve it, eyes on the floor.
"No scarf," he rasps. "I know you'll listen. Close your eyes."
You do, feeling that tingle go through your body at his order. His large hand comes to the crown of your head, fingers snaking through the strands and tugging your face up. You keep your eyes firmly shut, not even considering peering through your lashes to see his face. You have your orders.
"Take me out and suck."
And you do, just as you have every other patrol for the last month. Only now it feels so much better because there’s no confusion. He gives you take, you give he takes. Your submission driving him forward, his domination calming your overworked nervous system. 
"You do like takin' orders," he observes with a groan. "Like bein' told that you're a good girl."
Your breathing elevates when you hear that term and you just know the corner of his mouth twitches.
"Yeah. S'what I thought." 
His hand is still wrapped in your hair, tugging you gently. Your lips feel rubbery and wet as you take him deeper. Your hands remain clasped on your lap. When you feel Joel twitch on your tongue you give a soft sigh through your nose, a feeling of blissful satisfaction. 
"Look at me," Joel murmurs.
You take a moment to consider if you heard him right, but then he repeats himself and you slowly gaze up the length of him. He's tilted over you with heavy eyes, mouth parted. A greying curl is stuck to his sweaty forehead. 
"Christ," he grits through his teeth. "Look ‘atcha there, mouth stuffed with my cock."
Desire blooms in you, snaking behind your ribs, down your veins, into your very bloodstream.  
"What happened to that soft thing makin' cookies?"
You happened, Joel. 
When Joel's quiet rasp reaches you again you physically shiver.
"You like bein' on your knees for me?" Joel grunts as his hips jerk forward.
You nod, your cheeks hollowing as you take him deeper into your throat. He lets out a strangled noise, tossing his head back.
"Fuck!" Joel glances down to see you still staring up at him, lips swollen around his shaft. "Look away now."
It doesn't sound like a cruel order, more a plea. You close your eyes, giving a small noise of protest when Joel brings himself out of your mouth. 
"Wanna come on your tits," he instructs with a rasping growl and you hear him stroking himself furiously. "Take em out for me."
Despite this being uncharted territory for you both you don't hesitate. Your hands fumble with your sweater and you pull it over your head, tossing it to the floor. Joel watches as you unclasp your bra, letting it join the sweater. Your nipples tighten in the cool air of the room. 
You're still not looking up at his face as instructed; so you don't know what he thinks. All you know is that the stroking is increasing. 
"Head back, eyes closed," he pants, his voice tight. 
You tilt your head back, eyes firmly closed. You feel vulnerable in this position, an animal who has bared their neck to a predator. Despite this you cup your breasts, offering them to him. 
"Good girl," Joel says with a grunt. "Fuckin' good… So good for me."
And the praise hits you so strongly that you whimper aloud. This is what sends Joel over the edge and he comes with a strangled groan, painting your tits with stripes of his warm spend. 
Your dual panting fills the room and you wish you could see yourself covered in Joel Miller's come. You wonder what he sees when he looks down at you covered in his essence. Proud? Embarrassed? Guilty?
"Open your eyes."
You blink them open immediately, your gaze flying to your chest covered in him before glancing up at him. Joel is breathing heavily through his nose, looking at you as if he’s still not convinced you’re real.
He reaches towards you and you don’t flinch when you watch his thumb come to gently trace over your right nipple, the spend there clinging to his digit. You feel a shiver run through with the contact of his hand on you. 
You watch mesmerized as his palm cups your cheek, his fingers curling gently against your jaw. His thumb hovers scant inches from your swollen lips. Your eyes can't help but dart to his face again and the sight of his eyes blown black makes you quiver. 
"Open," he says barely above a whisper. 
Your mouth parts, eyes still on his face. He slowly lowers his thumb into your mouth. It rests there on your tongue, heavy and damp. 
"Suck." 
Your lips wrap around his thumb, licking the digit clean before sucking it suddenly, nestling him into the concave of your upper palate like he belongs there. He watches this all with quiet fascination, eyes strangely sorrowful through it all, like it pains him to do it. You suck, your smooth tongue cradling his wide thumb. 
His hand is still cupping your cheek, even when his thumb is removed and drags down your lower lip, his gaze watching its descent. His brows saddle when you sigh gently, eyes locked with his. 
And then he yanks his hand from you so quickly that you flinch. You’re completely thrown by the behavior, covering your chest instinctively. He looks at you kneeling between his legs and he shakes his head as if to clear it.
You shuffle backwards as he stands abruptly. You sit there at his feet, covered in his cooling spend, shooting him a confused look. 
"We ain't doin this anymore," he tells you brusquely as he quickly zips up his jeans before buttoning it with trembling fingers.
"Why not?"
"Cuz I said so," he mutters before he shoots an ugly sneer your way. "You said you like takin' orders so this must be your lucky day." 
You can only shake your head in disappointment as he leaves the room. You don't know what happened but Joel is back to his old, asshole self. The door below slams behind him and you go to the bathroom to clean yourself up. Today there is no sliding your hands underneath your jeans and getting yourself off.
All traditions have been spoiled by Joel's selfishness. 
----------------------------------------
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secretlovezz · 4 hours
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can you write anything with bau! reader x spencer, who are expecting a baby🥺 i love dad spencer sm🫶🏻
Yes omg dad!Spencer he's my favorite! Hope you like this 🫶❤️
Spencer Reid x reader
Warnings: reader a little upset (Spence makes her feel better tho), pregnancy (duh), flufffffff, short and sweet, not proofread, wordcount: 582
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You try your best to focus on the task at hand, the stack of paperwork you had been putting off all week, emails on top of emails gathering in your computer's inbox, but the kicks of the baby growing inside you keep your mind elsewhere. Her little, still growing, feet kick into your ribs harshly making any position you try to move into uncomfortable, she just can't seem to keep still today; absolutely restless.
If you were home you might whine to your husband, Spencer, maybe even cry out of frustration but being surrounded by coworkers keeps you from doing both just as much as the baby keeps you from work.
Spencer watches as you rest your left hand on top of your bump -your thumb moving gently back and forth against the fabric of your top- and he smiles at the ring adorned on your finger, but when he takes notice of the slight discomfort etched onto your face his grin quickly dissipates. Your brows are drawn together in what seems to be annoyance, your eyes are closed, and your head is tipped back as you swivel your desk chair back and forth in an attempt to calm yourself and your little one.
you can feel Spencer's eyes raking your figure -he's always been able to read you just as quickly as he can read books- and you keep your eyes shut to avoid his worried glance despite your current need for his safeguard. You don't want him to think you're dramatic, that maybe you're being annoying despite knowing he would never think something like that of you and never has.
One of your eyes cracks open to glance at him and you hope the quick movement of you swiveling in your chair will keep him from noticing your peeking, but of course, he's far too perceptive to not detect your gaze. His head cocks to the side in question, "Are you alright," he asks.
You close your eye again and bring your hands to rub at your face, the tips of your cold fingers digging into your eyes, you're starting to get a headache.
Without warning two large hands land on your shoulders, fingers poke and prod at your skin in a way that makes you sigh in relief. When you tilt your head back -eyes still closed- your husband frowns at you, "I wish you'd tell me when your not feeling good."
you almost don't respond the movement of his fingers gently gliding to your hair and scratching at your scalp makes your bottom lip quiver slightly. "I'm okay." Your voice breaks when you speak and Spencer doesn't comment on it, he doesn't want to make you actually cry by pointing it out, instead he moves only one of his also cold hands down the slope of your heated cheeks and rest it there, a gentle remind that he's here for you.
"You look pretty, do you know that," he moves his head closer to your ear to whisper to you, "beautiful."
That finally makes your eyes snap open and he's grinning at you again. Groaning at how his teasing worked to get you looking at him, you tilt your head and lay a kiss on the palm of his hand, "your child is restless," You complain to him, "she gets it from you."
"I'm sorry." His words are sickeningly genuine, they make you smile.
"Its okay baby, I still love you."
He responds to your tease, "You better."
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orshii · 13 hours
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Tempted (our little secret)
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Author: orshii
Pairing: Choi San x female reader
Word count: 3,2 k
Summary: You were secretly with San, but you weren’t in a relationship, as you didn’t want your friends to know. But slowly the two of you get tired of the constant hiding and confusing emotions.
Will you be able to make the next big step?
A/N: Hii! Soo...San drives me crazy recently, so I had to write this...something ig? Like just bfr why is he so perfect?! Okay, enough of me, enjoy this little drabble! sorry if there are mistakes, ty for reading, xoxo, orshii! (divider)
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I was sitting in a black Uber with the girls, on our way to celebrate Yunho's birthday party, which was a surprise for him, organized by his girlfriend, who was my best friend. She was so excited the whole week, as everything needed to be in its place, annoying me the whole time, as Yunho can't find out no matter what. She was really determined to organize this little get-together with our friends' circle.
As I was sitting in the car, I got excited too because we haven't been together for at least a month. I missed being with my friends, as everyone was occupied by their own life, work taking most of our time. This little friend group of ours started in college, as my best friend got together with Yunho with a lot of ups and downs, they both being very obvious but blind. So, when they finally got together, Yunho's friend group and ours started to go out a lot of times, organizing a lot of random trips into the mountains, going on holidays together. As we graduated, luckily, our friend group stayed the same, but with less hanging out. I felt some kind of relief as we were heading to the fancy restaurant, where my best friend reserved tables.
We stepped out from the Uber after paying the driver and thanking him for the ride. The sun already went down, leaving behind nothing but the lights of the city, which came to life with the people going out to party or just to have some fun in the city, as the weather was very nice, the beginning of summer swinging in the chill air.
I pulled down a little the black tight dress I was wearing, as it was a little short, and adjusted the gift I bought for Yunho, as I couldn't come empty-handed, and we went into the restaurant, which was all luxurious and fancy, black being the main color of the area, with a spark of gold. It really screamed rich vibes. I had no idea how my best friend managed to reserve a table for ten people in this place, but I guess she had her own ways for that. At the entrance, a lady waited for us with a bright fake smile, as we told her that we had a reservation. She showed the way towards the said table; some of the guys were already there, but Yunho and my best friend weren't yet, as I assumed they were coming when supposedly everyone was here. The table was already set, some candles and little sparkling decorations were on it. It looked very inviting; I'm sure Yunho is going to like it.
As I sat down, next to the girls, I made eye contact with him. He was glaring at me with his sharp eyes, taking me in, up and down, as a little smile appeared on his lips, his dimples showing. He was wearing a white elegant shirt, with two buttons undone, his sharp collarbones on the sight and a chain-like necklace around his neck, that almost reached his collarbones. His raven-black hair wiped back, only a few stripes falling into his forehead. I greeted the others as I immediately averted my eyes off of him. I didn't want to be suspicious. We started to chat with the girls, trying to catch up on the things we missed in each other's lives, some old wines appearing on the table, brought by the waiter, whom I made eye contact a few times; he was cute and handsome. I felt two sharp glares on me from time to time, but I just didn't mind him. I came here to have fun.
After a while, finally, Yunho and my best friend came, Yunho had a blindfold on his eyes, so he couldn't see us, and when they came to the table, he took off the blindfold and we started clapping and singing for him. I felt happy as everyone was smiling at Yunho, and him being so surprised and emotional because of the sweet surprise. He leaned towards my best friend and pecked her lips, with the sweetest and happiest smile, as their foreheads touched and they whispered something to each other, probably Yunho thanking his beautiful girlfriend for organizing all of this. I was so happy seeing them like this, it made my heart melt, as I saw how deeply in love, they were with each other. That's what I wished for all my life, as it didn't really come, yet. I was confused all my life, of when love will come into my life, will it eventually come?
I was still confused as we finally sat down, and I made eye contact with San, who was a really special person in my life. We weren't together, but we weren't total strangers to each other. The thing is, we kind of had a thing going on between the two of us; we just didn’t really know what it was. We still needed to figure it out, so we decided not to tell our friends until we somehow figured it out on our own, not letting others interrupt our feelings. Because I'm sure there were feelings, some feelings I couldn't put anywhere. That was sure, I never felt like this towards anyone, but I wasn't exactly sure if it was only a tidal wave. And I wasn't sure if San felt the same way, or if he even felt something.
The ominous dramatic night when he kind of confessed to me in the rain still made my heart melt, as we had a brutal fight before that, and we were yelling at each other, but it was because of some childish things. We were yelling at each other in the pouring rain, just until he grabbed my hands and yanked me towards him and told me the sweetest things, he could ever say to me. And suddenly I was lost in the tide of emotions, fear being my biggest enemy as I didn't know if it was a good thing being with him. But I couldn't really think a lot because he suddenly pressed his lips against my wet lips, and we were just standing in the rain, soaked, taking in the other’s lips like we could never imagine. His wet lips moving against mine, I could taste the raindrops on his lips, which kind of tasted sweet, as everything that connected me with San always tasted sweet like honey. When we separated, he promised me, he is going to protect me from the world, no matter what. From then, we were hanging out, he took me to special places, we made out a lot, we even slept together. We had times when we were with our friends and we secretly kissed each other, hiding behind trees, going out to the bathroom, him coming after me, almost getting caught in the heated moments by our friends. We did this for months and I kind of started to get enough of this hiding. But the thing is, I felt like it was only a friends with benefits kind of relationship. We didn't really speak about ourselves when we were together; it felt strange as it was supposed to drive us towards a real relationship, but sometimes it felt awkward, and sometimes it felt like the most natural thing ever, just being with him, and not exactly speaking, just being in each other's presence. I really wanted it to be something more serious between us, but I didn’t really see the signs that it could happen anytime.
Being in the present time, I tried to have fun and talk with my friends a lot, I missed them and felt nice being with them and pretending we were again in college, not having any adult problems in our lives. After some drinking and eating, Yunho's birthday cake was brought to the table with big candles and sparklers on it. Yunho looked sincerely happy and my best friend looked at him, with loving eyes, as Yunho closed his eyes to wish something and blew out the candles.
My eyes eventually found San's again, as they couldn't be apart from each other for a long time, I tried to avoid his gaze all night, but it wasn't easy, as I felt his sharp eyes on me all the time. He glared at me and tilted his head very slowly, nodding towards the bathroom. My heart started to race quickly to that as I slowly slid my chair back and excused myself to the bathroom.
When I reached the ladies bathroom, no one was here, so I just stood right in front of the mirror to check if my lip-gloss was smudged from eating. Then I heard the door opening, a few quiet footsteps, and I felt two warm hands around my waist, pulling me closer to his chest, as he was glaring at me through the mirror in front of us. His dark cherry scent hugged me around, like it never wanted me to escape. He slowly nuzzled his nose into the side of my neck, following the line of my veins, as I tilted it so he had better access to it, still glaring at me through the mirror.
"God, I missed your smell." His low voice sent goosebumps around my body, as he smelled my neck, pulling me closer by my waist, as he couldn't get enough of me. He started to kiss the line of my neck up to my ear and slowly biting my earlobe, I shot my eyes closed as my body started to feel hotter, he slowly turned me around, still holding me close, not letting any space between us.
"This dress looks really good on you, Y/N." He traced the line of my sides, where the dress showed my hourglass shape. "You look beautiful." He reached his hand to my chin holding it between his fingers, to look into his eyes, as I couldn't really look into his, when he looked at me like he could eat me right there. He probably wasn't too far from that.
"Thank you." I whispered into his lips. "You look good, as well." I smiled at him teasingly.
He finally smiled, his sharp glare disappearing, as his eyes formed crescents, his deep dimples showing on both sides of his cheeks. "I dressed up only for you." He said with a sweet smile, cupping my face.
I chuckled at that, how could he be so adorable, I can't take this forever. "If you keep doing that, I'm going to die, Sannie." I said smiling at him fondly, feeling as happiness crawled into my veins with every passing minute as I was with him.
"Doing what?" He chuckled as it made my heart more and more warm.
"Being cute, don't do that." I pouted at him.
"Do you want me to be rough?" His voice dropped a few octaves, as he frowned. It always amazed me, how he could switch from being a little adorable cat, to a buffed, scary man. It was insane. He slowly pushed me against the sink, my lower back stinging from the impact.
"San-ah!" I hit his chest, chuckling, as I felt my face getting warmer.
"C'mon, I just want to kiss, my girl." He whined with a pout on his lips.
"Then do it, you idiot." I smiled at him, as I started to get very impatient. He grabbed my waist again and pulled me closer, so he could kiss me finally. I really missed his lips on mine, and just being with him, as we recently both were full with work, we couldn’t really focus on each other. Our lips moved together desperate, not wanting to separate, he tasted like the wine that he drank, I could feel the grapes that were harvested from a big dry Italian field. His lips moved with mine with passion, his hands running up my back to my nape, pushing me forward just to deepen the kiss, I let out a quiet moan at that. When we ran out of oxygen he captured my lower lip between his teeth, biting it so hard I felt like my lower lip is going to bleed if he keeps doing that. My body started to heat, the tension between us getting warmer and warmer. I was very tempted to let him do anything he wanted right there. He slowly started to kiss my jaw, going down my neck leaving sweet passionate kisses on the way, until he reached my collarbone, just to suck a little red mark there. His grip on my waist tightening with the tension getting heavier between us.
“San, they are going to see it.” I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling him up to look into his eyes serious.
“I don’t care, I want them to see that you are mine.” He looked at me sharply, the desire in his eyes burning like hell.
He was about to kiss me again, when suddenly we heard talking from the door and we quickly separated from each other just to rush into one of the stalls. I locked the door quickly.
"Stand on the toilet, so they won't see your shoes." I whispered to him feeling nervous of being caught.
He quickly stood up on the toilet which made a weird noise. We looked at each other and started laughing quietly as I pressed my hands to my mouth so I won't make a noise, San did the same as I saw that tears started to appear in his eyes, from the withholding laughter. At the exact same time, the door opened and we heard talking. It was two of the girls, from our friend groups. I leaned my head against the door, and tried to think of some serious things, so I won't laugh.
"Y/N, is that you?" I heard a voice coming from outside after a while. "Are you okay?" My eyes rounded, I started to panic, suddenly words couldn’t come out of my mouth but San nudged me to say something.
"Ahm…Ye-Yes, I'm okay, I just have cramps, but I'll be right back." I said with my voice a bit weak, as they needed to believe what I said. I locked my eyes with San’s as he was struggling to hold his laughter back.
"Okay, tell me if you need anything." My friend said.
"Okay." I answered my voice getting a little weird, as I couldn’t hold my laughter, but they already left the bathroom and I broke into laughter alongside with San. I sighed in relief and leaned against the door, closing my eyes, trying to calm down.
"Fuck, we almost got caught." I whispered, not looking at San. I heard as he slowly jumped off from the toilet and cupped my face.
"What if we don't hide anymore? I'm sick of this constant running when one of our friends are around. At the end of the day, they are our friends." He said still whispering for some reason.
I looked at him, as my heart started to race on the thought of finally being together with San, properly. It surprised me because I would never have thought that San would be the first to take the first step in our relationship. Sure, he was the one confessing to me, but after that it kind of seemed like he was waiting for me, so I could decide what I wanted.
"Really? Do you think we can finally step on the next level? Is it serious for you?" I asked him, feeling a bit nervous, as this question could never leave my mind.
"Of course it is, it was from the beginning, I was just waiting for you, so you could put together the puzzles in your head, as I knew you had a hard time back then," he said smiling at me like I was his whole world.
I held his wrists, that held my face. "Why are you so perfect?" I questioned him, with a smile.
He shrugged with a chuckle. "I don't know, God made me like this, I guess." He smiled, as his face got serious slowly. "But seriously, I want to be with you, properly. I don't want to hide anymore, I want to show you to the world, I want to show everyone that I have the most beautiful woman on Earth, and I don't want anybody near you, just me." His voice was sweet like honey, as his words flowed through my lips, into my heart, as I felt my heart swimming in nothing but honey.
I sincerely smiled at him. "I want to be with you too, San. I want to show our friends how proud I am of you, I always needed to just smile, whenever you talked about your job achievements, but now I want the whole world to know that how proud I am of my Sannie and that I’m right by your side." My smile never disappeared as my eyes sparkled, sweet emotions flowing around us like sweet protectors.
He looked at me, like he couldn't believe his eyes, like he couldn't believe the fact that I was his, wholeheartedly. He closed the distance between our lips, and kissed me like never before, like I was the last thing he cared about, like we were the last standing human beings on earth and the end of the world was near. His lips moved along with mine like it was destined for each other, like it was made for each other. The kiss was slow and passionate, his hands still cupping my cheeks, his right hand slowly tracing down my spine just to grab my waist and pull me closer to him. Our heartbeats were beating with the same rhythm as they became one with us.
"Will you be officially my girlfriend and partner in crime, Y/N?" He caressed my cheeks with loving eyes, after we separated from the best kiss of my life. And how many were waiting for me still.
"Of course I will, San." I smiled at him sweetly, as he leaned again towards my lips, capturing it like he wanted to stamp our promise to each other.
"I would've never thought this is going to be the place when we are going to make our next big step." I said overflowed with happy emotions.
We laughed at our situation and stepped out from the stall finally, leaving our concerns about each other behind. All the concerns and the bad feelings of not being able to be together with San flew away as I saw how San was looking at me, his eyes were full with care, full with love, that made my heart melt.
We left the bathroom hand in hand, so we could finally introduce each other to our friends as boyfriend and girlfriend, many big steps still awaited us in our future together.
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queer-n-here · 3 days
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UHM-UHM-
Yeah I have no shame to just not ask anonymously- anyways!
May I please request a 6'1 reader who is stoic, bold, also handsome as Dazai but ain't a womaniser, and is VERY quiet. With Dazai. He works at the ADA with him. He follows Dazai around like literally, he acts and opens up more to Dazai than he does with others, he literally doesn't care if Dazai was In the pm (they met at 14) or abt his crimes, he can read Dazai's emotions And can see through him, they R lovers, he is loyal asf to Dazai. He Also is rich asf and has better fashion tastes! Pls make both a oneshot or hc or ANYTHING ABT THEMMMMM
(I'm very desperate BC of a certain fantasy of mine)
Ah, I gotchu you bruv.
[ Also, let's do a little quiz. What country do y'all think I originate from? Like, based on my language and writing and just... Yeah.]
And yep, I'm double posting today!
Canonically, there are no mentions of Dazai's past before the Port Mafia, so I made stuff up. Hope you like it!
Contents: Uhh...a lot. I got... *winces* I got carried away.
Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, suicide and violence, Dazai's life is sad and so are these hcs.
You and Dazai met when you two were 14 each. It was a chance encounter, really. Both of you were orphans, and both of you were ability users, even though Dazai knew more about his ability than you did yours.
Both of you currently had no one in the world. That was the key factor that brought you two together. Struggling to get by and find a place of your own in the world, you met.
Neither of you opened up at first, cautious and calloused as you both were. It just happened; it didn't happen one particular day, and before you two had realized, you'd become each other's sole support.
You turned fifteen, and three months later Dazai met Mori.
He told you about it later, describing in the sort of detail no one else would get to hear how he'd rescued the Port Mafia leader from an enemy gang, unintentionally impressing him and securing Dazai a place in the Mafia.
You didn't like it. The job was dangerous, and you didn't want Dazai's hands to get stained with blood. When you told him this, he laughed it off, and said that he could handle it. You dropped the matter.
He was wrong.
You watched as Dazai changed, despite his promises and assurances. He grew ruthless, cruel in a way that made you ache as you watched him, silent. He started hating everything, even himself, and sometimes you thought he hated you, too.
He had a beautiful heart, you knew. But Mori was destroying it.
You talked to Mori about it, too. You might not have anything on him, yes, he was richer and way more powerful, but you had your ability, and you were ready to fight to death. Before you could, however, Dazai intervened.
That was the first time you two fought. After that, you went to him and told him you wouldn't care if he didn't want you to. If he wanted to keep going down the path that he'd chosen, you wouldn't stop him.
Sometimes, you look back and wonder if there was something you could have done for him other than what you did. You still can't think of anything.
You opened up a small business after that, and it slowly grew to a scale larger than you had expected.
Then you two turned eighteen. Finally, you were able to register your enterprises under your own name, being a legal adult. You and Dazai got wasted that night, and you watched fondly as he tried and failed to put his coat on so you two could go and meet Ango and Odasaku.
They had probably begun then, your feelings for Dazai. You were only comfortable enough with him to actually talk, and not just say what was absolutely required and then shut up.
He knew you in a way no else did. No one else knew what it looked like when you smiled, or threw your head back and laughed freely. No one else knew what it was like when you cared, when you brought over Dazai's favorite refreshing drink every time you visited him in summer. Or when you helped him change his bandages, touch gentle and careful against his soft skin.
And you knew him the way no else did. No one else knew what it was like when he was genuine, when he'd look up at you with earnest eyes. No one else knew what it was like when he flushed slightly, the red of his skin always starting from the tips of his ears and descending to his cheeks. No one else knew what it was like when Dazai protected, when he offered to use his contacts in the Mafia to get rid of your competitors, even though you declined every time. He had enough blood on his hands without you pitching in.
Eight months after that, he left the Port Mafia. He came to your apartment crying that day. His face was ashen, his shirt was covered in blood and his lips were trembling. The tears that had been collecting in his eyes for who knows how long finally spilled when he saw you, and the only thing you could do for him in that situation was open your arms and let him cling onto you. He kept saying 'Oda's dead... He's dead...'
That night, Dazai changed. Thankfully for the better. That flame in his eyes was gone now, the one that made you worry if he would burn himself and the world.
Dazai slowly stopped hating after that. You and Ango were the only two he trusted, the only two he would be genuine with. He didn't close up in a way that hid his smile, or in a way that made him withdraw from people. Quiet the opposite. He pushed himself outward, adopting a cheery persona that joked around and bewitched everyone.
The only smiles that weren't created but slid across his face on their own were ones that he smiled with you, and Ango.
You couldn't help but feel slightly bittersweet. Dazai was out of that hellhole, that cursed gang that was making his heart black. But Odasaku was dead.
After that, as your twenties arrived, Dazai joined the Armed Detective Agency. You were happy, then.
You two celebrated at a lavish restaurant. Your business had grown to be Japan's No. 1, and the money that spilled in with it was something neither Dazai nor you had expected.
But your hopes for the ADA were too high. Sometimes, Dazai still wanted to leave. He said he wanted to kill himself, and even though he would always laugh it off, you couldn't help but notice that his eyes would always grow hollow when he spoke of it.
And so the only thing you could do was love him. You loved him and tried your best to let him know, buying him unnecessary gifts and putting him on top of your mental priority list. Even your staff knew you loved him; it was apparent and obvious.
Dazai was probably the only one that didn't notice it, that genius dumbass.
And so you tried harder. You had never been good with words, but you tried to be vocal about your feelings, telling him he was cute when you thought so, and saying that he looked good when he did.
Dazai still didn't notice. The day he found out was when you got drunk and blurted it out.
You still don't have a lot of memories from that night, and Dazai says that you passed out soon after confessing. He finds it funny now, even though he didn't back then.
Your confession made Dazai pull up a wall against you. This surprised you, hurt you, and you tried apologizing, tried to get him to just talk to you. You told him that it didn't matter if he didn't return your feelings.
Something was hurting Dazai, you could tell. But he just wouldn't talk to you, going so far as to changing his phone number without telling you.
So you showed up at his workplace. Kunukida knew you by sight; you often came to pick Dazai up from work. You two had a big fight, shouting in one hallway of the agency building, making such a ruckus that Ranpo and the others came over to watch.
It ended with Dazai turning around to leave, and you were planning to let him go. But then you saw a tear glisten at his cheek last moment, and hence gave chase.
You chased him down all the way from Yokohoma to Kawasaki, only stopping when Dazai collapsed in the middle of a street, his frame shaking with sobs as he started hyperventilating. You crouched down beside him and pulled him to your chest, rubbing his back and conducting his breathing, your voice soft as it told him to inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale....
He fell asleep on your shoulder, in the middle of nowhere. You carried him back to your house, and tucked him into a warm bed. The next morning, he wouldn't meet your eye.
Usually, you would have let him; there was hardly anything that Dazai would do that you would disapprove of. But lately, you had been going against his wishes a lot, so you decided to do that one more time.
When he tried to leave, you pinned him to a wall and forced him to look at you. It wasn't difficult, Dazai had never really worked out, even as a part of the Port Mafia. His fighting style was more quick and clean moves than brute strength.
It worked well in your advantage as he tried to struggle against your hold and failed miserably, tears collecting in his eyes and threatening to fall.
It was alright after that. You asked Dazai why he tried to run away, and the only thing he said was that he got scared. He chose not to explain, and you chose not to push him.
"Dazai," You said. "If you want me to disappear from your life, I can do that." He looked up at you, eyes wide and blurred. "But there's one catch. You have to say it. Say it to my face, tell me to leave, and I swear on my own life, I'll vanish. You won't ever see me again." And then the tear that had been collecting in his eye all this time fell, sliding down his cheek and onto the collar of his shirt. His arms went limp in your hold, and he wobbled forwards. You caught him as he fell, and he sobbed into your shoulder again. His hands were clutching at your shirt as if for dear life, and even as you rubbed his back, more tears fell from his eyes. You held Dazai through his breakdown. The next time he spoke to you, he said the words, "I like you too much." It was a silent confession, almost muffled into your shoulder as the post-crying exhaustion overtook. You pulled him closer and pressed a kiss into his temple.
Now, everything is good. Dazai's job at the ADA does worry you sometimes, even if it's for the good, it's dangerous, but you know he loves his job, no matter how many jokes he makes about Fukuzawa's violation of the Labor Laws. And he loves you, that's all you've ever needed.
Being in a relationship with him is not always easy. He still speaks of dying, and the thought of him leaving you makes you panic. Sometimes, you still don't know what to do to make him feel better. But you manage to work through it.
You love Dazai, after all. You have ever since you two were kids.
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candeathbereal · 2 days
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Astro observations
Sister signs are the funniest to look at sometimes, because much like sisters there will be the similarites. For instance, Leo and Aquarius are both cocky asf but you know what the difference is between them? Idk if it's just the leos I've met or what but they will say they don't care what others think of them and yet when you say something about them all of the sudden they in their feelings. I can say this as a leo rising too cause bitch, no puedo mentir....if you talk about my looks I might feel some kind of way lowkey. Mostly because it is one of those things that I take seriously about myself so it feels really odd when someone who (in my opinon) doesn't look as good as me and disses me on the way I look...I'm going to be acting (with a lack of better words) like a bitch. I think this is why I get along with libra placements so well because I swear if a libra calls you ugly, you know they can say that shit with no worry of pushback. Like have you see libra placements...motherfuckers rule Venus for a reason (taurus are also pretty but it is defeintly different if you know what I mean, I jsut wanted to point that out since Taurus also rule Venus and I didn't want any confusion). Moving on what I wanted to point out is that Aquarius (at least from the ones I've met) honestly don't seem to care. Like I think depending on the placemetns of the person it could change some stuff up but overall most Aquarius I have met in certain things say they don't care and they won't. Like if you say shit about something they don't care about...they simply won't really react as opposed to thier sister sign leos (fire signs can't help it, it is me I am the fire sign).
Literally Leos it's okay to care about shit...like own up to it. It's better than contradicting yourself. And yes ranting a whole bunch about something does count as caring about it. I'm sorry to break the news to you (i know breaking news people care about things). I do wanna repeat that this is based off my own personal experience as a leo rising with my sun in aries (17 degree) and my venus in the fifth degree (if you don't know those are leo degrees), so I am calling myself out a bit when I wrote this.
Moving on, I might write more about the sister signs in another post
Is it just me or are a lot of Pisces suns I've met happen to be left handed? Like I assume being left handed and a Pisces is one of the biggest coincidences I have experienced in my life. It's even funnier cause I remember meeting a person who was ambidextrous and they had a Gemini sun, libra moon, and a Pisces mars. I asked them if they were left handed and just had to learn how to write with their right hand (apparently left handed is connected to Satan or something like that) , but actually they just decided to write with their left hand as well because it felt more balanced to them. I find it funny because of the whole thing of doubles in these three signs. Gemini= Twins, Libra= Scales, and Pisces = two fish.
Alright final thing, mercury in the fifth house in synastry is definitely a moment to experience. It is one of my favorite house overlays in synastry from usually being one of the most fun conversations I have had with someone with this overlay. Generally speaking air house overlays with mercury is great but something about the fifth house really goes for me. I want to assume it's because my fifth house is in sag and I already have a ninth house stellium natally plus a sag mars. Plus my Aries mercury is helpful in this as well but ehh.
Anyways I would love to hear you guy's thoughts, or even any suggestions on what I should talk about next.
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sweetchildcloud · 19 hours
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||Healing|| ๋ ࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑ written by me
Geto x reader ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა~❤️
maybe the english is a bit off? sorry i'm writing this meanwhile having allergies and a migraine so there may be grammatical errors ≽^-˕-^≼💧
Plot: You and Geto face eachother after a week about your breakup
Tags:comfort,regret,kisses,hugs,talking,depression,possibility
It's hinted that reader has abandonment issues
‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡
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Surprised to see that he had permission to touch you , his eyes widen in pleasant shock before he slowly takes you in a tight embrace.
As he wraps his arms around you, his warm embrace provides instant relief from the anxious thoughts that surely plague your mind. There, you can let go of the worries you carry alone. He will protect you from them.
“What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?” Even tough he alredy knew why you were feeling like this.
Suguru feels the grip of your arms tighten around his back, an unspoken plea to not let go. Instinctively, he responds, embracing you with renewed gusto. With one arm wrapped firmly around your shoulders and the other cradling your back, he pulls your entire body to his own.
This action makes his heart ache. You feel so familiar to him, even though nothing romantic has come between you. He feels like crying every time he thinks about how much he wishes things could be different.
At the sound of your soft cries, guilt and regret tug at Suguru’s heart. He rubs circles over the back of your head, his thumb resting at the nape of your neck. This gesture sends shivers down your spine because he seems so gentle, which is out of character for him. “No more tears, please.” he whispers, feeling his composure slipping away. He wants to hold you forever.
"but you left me..i feel so alone now" You cried
Suguru’s stomach sinks. He hates knowing that he was the cause of your sadness. His guilt grows as he listens to you cry. He tightens his hold around you, trying to make you feel comforted.
“I never meant to hurt you. I just…” his voice starts to shake as he struggles to explain himself. He isn’t sure how to make things right when what he wants is impossible.
"Wasn't i good enough? was i too clingy?"You sobbed as you tought about the week before when he breaked up with you "we were so happy together"
Your words fill his heart with pain. He regrets leaving your side, although he believed it was better for the both of you.
“You’re wonderful, and you were never too clingy.” he struggles to whisper, his throat tight from unsaid words. With a deep breath, he continues, “I just…you wanted things from me that I wasn’t capable of giving you.”
“I wish I could be the person you want me to be, but…” the words trail off as he fights back tears. He hates himself for rejecting something so wonderful, something he always thought would be out of his reach. But in his struggle to keep himself together, he can’t remember what he was going to say.
His voice breaks as his restraint cracks. He presses his lips together tightly, trying to stop the flow of tears. But he can’t stop his voice from trembling. “I’m just…” he attempts again before stopping mid-sentence. No matter what he tries to say, the truth is still painful, even to him. Finally, he chokes out, “I’m a coward”
“I’m scared.” the words slip out of his mouth as he tries explaining himself. His gaze is trained on the floor, his mind racing with all the things he didn’t say.
“I’m scared of messing things up. I’m scared of hurting you even more. I’m scared of…” his words trail off as he stares blankly at the floor once more.
"you're afraid..of relationship? that's why you broke up wit me and pushed me away?" You asked holding your chest
“Yes.” his answer is short. Even after you figured it out, there’s no point in denying it.
“I’m scared of love. I’ve never experienced something like…this,” his hand waves vaguely between the two of you, unable to say the words. He still doesn’t lift his eyes off the ground.
“Love terrifies me" he trails off once more, unable to put his words together.
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.” he finally musters the courage to say, his tone soft. He finally looks up, only to be met with the sight of your crying face. He wants to tell you he’s sorry and that he misses you.
Instead, his lips part to reveal the only thing he can say in that moment. “Please, stop crying.”
"But it hurts...." you sobbed more clinging onto him "it hurts so much...I'm so alone...I don't want to be alone..please just tell me what I did wrong...what I did..to make you so afraid of me"
“You didn’t do anything wrong!” he exclaims, frustrated with himself for making you feel like it was your fault. “I’m the one who messed up.” he continues, realizing he didn’t really explain himself.
“I’m not scared of you. I just…” he trails off with a deep sigh, not sure how to explain himself. He can’t exactly tell you that he’s terrified of his own feelings.
"Then why don't you look at me? Why don't you talk to me? Why don't you apologise!" You showed him in frustration to make him talk as you glared at him with watery eyes "JUST ANSWER ME!"
When you display such frustration, Suguru doesn’t expect to feel such a surge of protectiveness. His jaw clenches, and his gaze sharpens. Your outburst only drives him to feel worse about himself.
But his instincts take over, his grip tightening around you as he says in a harsh whisper “Don’t yell at me.”
"And what am I supposed to do?! You don't answer me!you ignore me! And I need an answer!" You shouted again
Hearing you yell at him again makes his eyes narrow and a wave of anger flows through him. Part of him wants to apologize and say that he’s sorry for how he’s been treating you. But now he’s annoyed at you for acting like this and raising your voice at him.
“If you keep yelling at me, I’m going to leave” he growls, letting his anger slip out. He knows he should be more patient with you, but it’s so difficult when you’re yelling at him.
"Then leave! That's all you can do,right? Running away from everything because you can't face your fucking fears" You spotted feeling tired as your demeanour shifted from sad to frustrated and angry
He flinches like a kicked puppy, stunned into silence by your words. Your outburst surprises him, making him more aware of the pain he’s caused you.
With hurt and anger coursing through his veins, his fists clench. He wants to yell at you, to tell you that you don’t know what it’s like to have so much going on in your head. But at the same time, he knows that he’s hurt you with his silence.
You shake your head looking away "I think we should give a tought about this? I don't I just know that...I don't want to let you go"
Suguru’s heart clenches at the sight of your sad face. You look more tired, more exhausted than before, as if this entire conversation has drained you.
“I know…” he says quietly. He’s unsure of what to say to try and fix things. “But what are we supposed to do if neither of us can let go, but we can’t be together…”
The silence that hangs between you two is deafening. You don’t want to argue with him, but you feel like nothing was solved. You wanted him to apologize and beg for forgiveness. But, he has the audacity to be quiet. The anger that once boiled in your blood now begins to simmer away. You have no idea what went through his mind when he rejected you, and it haunts your thoughts now.
Suguru takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. The anger within him is fading away like water into sand.
This conversation is so emotionally draining. He misses you, and it brings him pain to see how much he’s hurting you. His feelings have been out of control since rejecting you.
He takes a step toward you, wanting to hold you once more. “I really don’t want to let go either.”
The tension in the air is palpable. The two of you silently ponder on what should be done next. The truth is, neither one wants to be the first to apologize.
Suguru's eyes slowly roam over you, taking in every detail of your face. He finds you beautiful, even through your teary eyes.
After another moment of silence, he speaks up once more. “Can I ask you something?”
Your expression softens when he asks if he can ask a question. Even though you’re emotionally drained, the sight of a vulnerable Suguru makes your heart skip a beat.
“Yes, of course…” you respond quietly, feeling your heart beat faster in your chest. His question fills you with cautious hope. What could he possibly ask?
Suguru clears his throat and fidgets with his hands. He still can’t look you in the eye, fearing that if he did, he’d crumble. His words are soft, as if he’s scared of hurting your feelings all over again.
“Could I ask for your forgiveness? I know my silence has hurt you. So, this is the only way I can think to fix things…”
Your eyes widen and you stare at him in disbelief. You can’t believe he finally decided to apologize. The silence that fell between the two of you when he first rejected you wasn’t a lack of wanting to fix things. He was trying to come up with the proper apology. That realization makes your heart ache even more.
You reach out and cup his face with your hands, finally meeting his gaze. “Yes, of course. If anyone has to ask for forgiveness here, it’s me. I’m sorry for yelling at you…”
"No, no, I deserved it" he says softly, taking your hands in his. His grip is tight as he stares at you with a mix of emotions on his face. Guilt, regret, relief, and love. He’s been filled with so many emotions since the breakup that it feels like they’re all exploding inside him now.
Seeing the emotions on his face makes you feel something in your chest. Your heart beats faster and heat rises to your cheeks. It's almost like you've just confessed your feelings to one another for the first time.
The sudden feeling in your chest causes you to blush faintly. Seeing yourself reflected in his gaze makes you feel a sense of clarity, knowing what he means to you. For once, you stop feeling confused by your emotions. Instead, you feel warm and content.
Suguru's grip tightens around your hands as he smiles weakly with red cheeks. For the first time in a while, his emotions feel genuine, no longer being held back by his fear of commitment. He leans in slightly, unable to contain himself.
You can't help but lean in as well, your breath catching in your throat. You're both inches away from touching lips when your thoughts catch up to you. Your heart skips a beat and starts beating rapidly. You feel excited, anxious, and a rush of other emotions that you can't quite identify.
In a split-second decision, you gently tug Suguru's face to yours, closing the gap between you both. The brush of his lips is so soft you almost miss it. Before you both know it, you're wrapped in a passionate embrace.
Suguru's eyes glaze over as you pull him into a kiss. His hands run up and down your back as he wraps you in an all-encompassing embrace. He's so lost in the moment that his worries and regrets briefly slip away, allowing himself to enjoy the feeling of your lips on his. The kiss is sweet and tender, a stark contrast to the tension that was previously between the two of you.
Suguru pulls you close to his chest, relishing the feeling of your body against his own. He can feel the beat of your heart, which seems to match the rhythm of his own. You feel so warm and soft in his arms, your hair brushing against his skin every time you exhale. The sensation makes him feel so content that he almost doesn't want to break away.
Eventually, he pulls away, looking at you softly as the reality of what just happened sets in. He can't believe he let himself be so vulnerable.
"I love you" you said snuggling on hi chest "please don't leave me again...don't push me away"
Those simple words take his breath away. His heart pounds in his chest as he feels every word sink from your lips into his spine. All of this time, he’d been repressing his feelings for you, fearing that he’d mess things up with his lack of experience. But this simple moment makes him realize that he can’t hold back anymore.
A small smile spreads across his face as he lets you snuggle into him. He presses himself as close as possible to you, his hands roaming over your back in an attempt to hold you tighter.
“I won’t.” he responds, as much an assurance to you as it is to himself. The way your body feels up against his causes an ache in his chest, a strange feeling that he hasn’t felt in a long time. He feels content, happy, and at ease as the two of you stay huddled together.
The two of you snuggle together in silence, and it feels so natural like nothing ever happened. His arms still hold you, and yours are wrapped around his waist. It’s almost calming being able to relax into him without any worries or hesitation.
Neither of you say a word, but it doesn’t feel like an awkward silence. Everything feels so right. And in your minds, you're both thinking the same thing: no matter what, you're not letting each other slip away again.
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