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#a second chance for them to grow up together!
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Climb inside of me.
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Nell Jackson x reader
Summary: Nell left you, will you give her a chance to make explain herself.
Notes: it only took me an hour, it's based off of a poem.
Inspired by the song Again - Noah Cyrus and XXXTENTACION
It hurt in a way you’d never felt before when she left, like grieving a missing limb. And then she’d died that pain was multiplied to the point of suffocation.
Then one night at the Talbot you saw her swan in the same way she left and your head started to spin.
She was back. And real, not something you’d made up to ease the grief.
You jump up and head for the front door heart pounding in your ears. Disappearing without so much as a back glance.
It killed her. So she’d asked Roxy to talk to you being too much of a coward to do it herself.
Roxy raced down the next day practically begging you to go see her. No doubt Nell had asked her to but you’d refused to let yourself even be entertained by the idea.
“she wants to see you ya know”  your head was already shaking side to side before she’d finished.
“She made her choice, she can just deal with it Roxy.” You had a very that was that tone as you fixed your hair, hands smoothing over your dress.
So Roxy didn’t waste her breath asking twice.
Fingers twist the material at your side, something you only did when nervous.
She’d frozen a second, hesitated like she wanted to say more but didn’t.
Knowing you were putting on a front deep down you wanted to see her, she relayed the message anyway.
The deflated look in Nell’s eyes when you refused to see her, broke her heart.
Muttering a sorry as she patted Nell in passing.
Nell couldn’t sleep that night. No matter how much she tossed and turned, fingers twisting in the sheets the gnawing, absence never settled.
Your face wouldn’t leave her mind.
You were best friends why couldn’t you forgive her?
Or at least you used to be before she ruined everything. There was no expectation of easiness but time had made her forgetful of your stubborn nature.
She’d get you back even if it killed her.
 You’d grown up together, she wasn’t going to be stupid enough to let you go twice.
You the educated daughter of a wealthy doctor and Nell the uneducated daughter of a tavern owner.
She had no idea what you even saw in her sometimes but my god did she want to be seen by you.
You’d even slept in the same bed growing up, all snuggled up close under fading candle light fingers tight around your waist and Nell tried to pretend that it didn’t mean anything.
The delicate way you brushed your fingers over her features, faces just inches apart leaning close as you whispered to avoid waking anyone.
You consumed her. Lit the spark in her chest, she burned for you.  
That burn bled into your everyday lives, she could barely contain herself when the local men tried their luck. It was met with a polite decline from yourself or Nell threatening to beat the infatuation out of any boy who mustered up the courage to try.
Nell sometimes caught herself wishing she was a boy it would make everything so easy.
She’d make a good husband. Nobody would ever hurt you, make you cry or take advantage of your kindness again.
She’d always known she wasn’t like most girls and you only made it more obvious.
The thoughts started to scare her becoming more intense as you aged. So she’d done the only thing she could and married Jackson leaving as soon as possible. He was a good man, had understood her situation. Understood he was her way out.
Understood she would never be a normal wife.
You’d been heartbroken, friends your whole lives and not even a goodbye.
One day she was there and the next gone like a ghost.
Nell Jackson had broken your heart.
Eyes darting back and forth between your notes ignoring the burn in your eyes,
Thumbs rub them blurry but Nell’s face doesn’t leave your mind.
Your stomach twists with excitement as you finish writing a possible cure for a disease you’d been working on.
She seemed to be a lot of places you were lately.
You grown suspicious, suspecting Roxy of foul play sometimes but lacked the proper evidence to accuse.
You always found an excuse to leave. She didn’t need us, didn’t need you.
You’d avoided Nell for weeks, Roxy thought it was silly you opting to drink at home throwing yourself into your work.
Couldn’t you see that they needed you? Nell needed you?
You’d see the girls in passing but not as before, it was hard and you missed them but you all needed the space you’d convince yourself to ease the guilt.
You leaned back in your office chair stretching tired limbs throwing the book to the growing pile as you enjoy the silence.
It would be dark in a few hours so you wanted to enjoy the last few hours of sunlight in peace.
You’d earned a rest. Earned a break from your inner torment even if just for a moment.
Being the towns doctors daughter, people came to you all hours for help.
 You didn’t mind of course.
You were a sweetheart and the town loved you for it, beautiful, clever and exceptionally wealthy you had it all.
Well except a husband. But who wanted one of those?
Men were loud, rough and selfish. None of which appealed to you, women were soft, warm and smelled good.
Life would be so much easier if you could marry each other.
You often caught yourself wondering what it would be like curling up next to someone soft and warm..
A shake of your head puts a stop to that train of thought.
Those thoughts were for later, when it was dark and you could pretend your hand  was possessed, working of it’s own volition under your night gown. The thoughts that clouded your mind were put there by the devil himself to torment you.
You caved every time.
Especially these last few weeks you’d find Nell’s face creeping in more.
Which only made it harder to look at her.
You’d had proposals from all sorts of men looking to marry into your family, the ones looking for love. The ones who wanted money, the ones who wanted to use your brilliance for their own selfish reasons.
You turned them all down.
 One of the few lucky enough to have parents that didn’t care much about marriage marrying for love themselves.
The knock on your door startles, bringing you back to reality. You aren’t expecting anybody but then again you suppose you never were.
You look though the peephole, squinting till Nell’s features came into focus.
You swing the door open with more force than needed, Nell blinks in surprise.
“what do you want?” you know you sound rude, you try not to care.
 Hurt flashes over her features but it’s so fleeting you could have imagined it.
“well a hello wouldn’t go a miss”  irritation brews in your chest but it’s overshadowed with the ache of missing her.
You wanted to cry, bury your head in her neck and never let go.
“if I wanted to say hello I’d have called.” You quip cheeks hot.
You turn before she can see heading back the way you came with Nell at your heels.
You think you hear her close the door behind you.
You hope she has, it was hardly the safest village.
It doesn’t take long before your back in your office sitting back at your work station.
“figured I’d save you the trouble”  she stops awkwardly in the middle of the room taking it all in.
The overwhelming rows of books, ingredients. Scribbled notes scattering the table, Nell doesn’t think she’s ever seen so many books in her life.
“that why you’re here, to say hello?” your words come out thin and pinched, you find yourself silently cringing at your own voice.
If Nell notices she doesn’t say anything.
“Yeah well, I missed ya”  her fingers tap against a jar as she stares at the contents.
Your eyes watch Nell’s frame, she moves slow eyes scanning the various bottles and jars filled with all sorts.
“your the one who left” you huff.
“didn’t feel I ‘ad a choice” she’s looking at you now eyes gazing into your own.
“a goodbye would have been nice” you mutter.
“m sorry”
 Nell continues to study your shelves and the silence stretches on.
Too long.
“don’t touch that” your across the room in seconds hand gripping her wrist tightly, alarm in your tone.
Nell jars slightly, looking at your grip on her wrist.
“It’s a paralytic.” You offer, her blank stare let’s you know she doesn’t understand so you carry on.
“you’ll be unable to move, paralysing your body and lungs eventually until you suffocate and die.”
“Cheery” Nell lowers her eyes and you realise with great embarrassment you still haven’t let go of her wrist.
Dropping her wrist you put away the deadly concoctions in sight as a precaution.
“Sorry, I just didn’t want you to die.” You offer lamely.
Nell’s heart sores at your words, you still cared. “I wouldn’t worry about that, I’m magic.” her joke confuses you tone awkward.
Nell knows she sounds lame but she doesn’t know what else to offer.
You meet her gaze properly, her eyes are so pretty.
“did I do something wrong?” Nell’s mind goes blank, how could you ever do anything wrong?
“Course not, why would you think that?” you grip your skirt fingers tightening and untightening. Twisting and pulling until you can’t anymore.
Nell’s grip tightens around your hand gently pulling the offending hand from your already creased skirt.
“because you never said goodbye.” and it sounds like the most childish thing in the world to be upset about.
But you are.
She pulls you in, slowly guiding you until your eye level with her chin.
You daren’t let your eyes stray further. Her hand moves to hold your own squeezing gently.
 “I didn’t want to hurt ya, I had to leave. Had to leave before I did something stupid,” and of course it makes no sense.
“Stupid? I don’t understand” you pull gently, Nell doesn’t let go.
Pushing your wrists down until she’s forced to let go you take a step back.
“Stop talking in riddles and just be honest with me.”
Her brain freezes and she finds her mouth opening and closing without a sound coming out.
And so she does the only thing that she can, she kisses you.
Her lips are soft, warm. Unskilled they work against yours urgently.
Heat shoots down your spine coiling tight in your lower belly as she pushes you gently into the bookshelf behind.
You think you hear something fall but you don’t care. She’s so soft, eager and my god does she smell good.
Gasping for air you reluctantly pull back, releasing a shaky breath foreheads pressed together.  
You think you hear here apologising but it doesn’t register.
How on earth could she be sorry for that?
“I shouldn’t have done that” it’s not an apology but close enough.
“why not?” Nell doesn’t have an answer, you didn’t seem upset which was a win. 
She steps back and you panic.
Nell doesn’t miss it, moving closer to soothe you. “hey I ain’t goin nowhere” relaxing, you nod and step closer.
“it’s going to be dark soon, you should stay.”
Nodding wordlessly, Nell finds herself hypnotised as you lead her upstairs.
Finding herself in your bedroom watching you undress for bed, Nell can’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world perching on the end of your bed.
You blush turning to find her gaze already on you.
“you sleeping like that?” you gesture towards her outfit. Trousers, boots, hat and a gentleman’s coat.
Pulling off her boots and coat, she hangs her hat over your bedpost, you blow out the candle.
Pushing herself up the bed as you crawled to meet her.
Snuggling up you press your head against her chest as you both get comfortable.
Whatever happened, you had each other. You were home.
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the-hinky-panda · 2 days
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The Winter Series: Part I
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Title: The Winter Series: Part I
Rating: Explicit
Summary: You're the wife of the Captain of the Red Guard and own an apothecary shop in Paris. A chance meeting with a dashing Musketeer changes the entire course of your life, if you're brave enough. (Trigger warning for domestic abuse, infidelity)
Tag list: @bullet-prooflove
You’re used to being on your back. Pinned down, eyes closed, waiting for George to finish so you can wash up and write the latest pieces of knowledge that you’ve acquired concerning compounds, herbs, and alchemy. You try to think about words you’re going to string together, how the slant of your writing will fill the page. Then the illustrations that you’re going to draw, the scrape of the quill against the parchment as you draw the blossoms of the lavender spikes in your small garden. Anything, you think of anything to distract you from what George is doing to you. 
It’s not like that with Aramis. 
He allows you to take control. You keep your eyes open and focus on as many details as possible during these intimate afternoon rendezvous. The words that fill your mind are the descriptions of how his hands feel against the skin of your ribcage as he steadies you, how it feels to lower yourself onto him, to be filled by him. How it feels to have a choice as to when a man enters you. The pictures you would draw of him beneath you, color rising to his cheeks, dark eyes growing darker with each roll of your hips. 
The ecstasy that hits you both is indescribable. That’s when you lose your words and pictures, the world shatters around you. It’s like dying and being reborn in the same moment. 
Peace comes afterwards. You enjoy the quiet that invades the storage space of the shop as well as your mind. Aramis contentedly traces random patterns against your back and side while you lay your palm against his heart, waiting for its pace to match your own. He pulls you closer to him in the pile of the blankets on the floor, presses lazy kisses against your neck, murmuring lines of poetry and adorations. For you, someone who has never run out of words, you find it difficult to tell him that this experience with him is unlike anything you have ever had before in your life. All you can do is try to memorize these moments as detailed as you can before having to return to your world where kindness is just a memory. 
***
“Who is it?” 
The jar of dried peppermint leaves almost slips from your hand at the sound of George’s voice behind you. Your thoughts had been on the previous afternoon’s occurrence, replaying the light touches and soft kisses shared with Aramis while listening to the rain fall on the roof. You slip your spectacles into the inside pocket of your bodice, an alteration that Constance had done for all your corsets to ensure the safety of your repaired glasses. 
“I didn’t hear you come into the shop, George.” You brush past him as you continue to measure out the order for the peppermint. “What do you mean who is it?” 
The strike is quick, fast enough that you never saw it coming and hard enough to knock the scent of mint out of your nose. “Don’t play your word games with me.” 
You can taste the tang of blood in your mouth and you swallow it down. “I don’t know what you’re asking.” 
“Who is the man you’ve taken to our bed?” 
You try to hide the slight tremor of your hands by busying them with wrapping up the satchel of herbs. “You share the same bed as me. If I brought someone else in, I would think you would take notice.”
He leans on the counter and waits for you to look at him. “I did notice..” 
You hold his eyes in a soft defiance. There’s no possible way for him to know. All your encounters have been at the shop, not at your home. George hates the shop, only crosses the threshold to take things that he wants: you or the money that you’ve made that day. You don’t even know if he’s aware of the second floor storage room. “What makes you think-” 
Another strike, against the other cheek this time. 
“What makes you think you can embarrass me in this way?” 
“George-” 
“It is my good graces that allow you to keep this shop open, to allow you your…indulgence of independence. If you want to keep the shop in your ownership, I suggest you remember your place and end this affair before you bring any more shame to my name. If not, it’s being sold to the highest bidder.” A cruel smile curls his lips. “Perhaps that would be in your best interest anyway. I dare say two years is enough time to adjust to married life. Caring for children and managing the shop will be too great of a time constraint for you.” 
You feel the icy grip of terror go through you at the thought of having children with this man. It makes you more fearful than that of having your affair come to light. If this is how he treats you, how in the world will he treat your children? You couldn’t bring a child into a home where they would know the same violence and fear that you do. You swallow down your pride and nod with downcast eyes. “Thank you for your generosity, George.” 
“That’s better.” He moves towards the front door and picks up a small jar of dried nettles. “What is this used for?” 
“Teas. It helps with swelling and gout.” 
He’s looking right at you when he drops the jar, glass and nettles spilling over the floor. You may be able to save some of the herb but the danger of having shattered glass mixed in there is too great. Thankfully, it wasn’t too expensive but you didn’t want him to know that. With a sigh, you pick up the broom and bend down to start cleaning up the mess. You’re reaching for a piece of glass when his boot rests on the back of your hand. You hold your breath, praying he doesn’t put any more pressure on your hand. 
“What is his name?” 
You set your jaw, locking it tight. He’s taken so much from you, he’s not taking this. You’ve found a glimmer of happiness, joy even, and you’ll go to the grave before condemning Aramis to George’s obsession. Your resolve damns you though and your prayers are unanswered as he slowly applies his weight and the shard of glass cuts deep into your palm. 
“A reminder then, of your place and who you belong to.” 
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blue-mood-blue · 5 months
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I’ve grown to appreciate the aus where Shen Yuan enters the story as “Shen Yuan” - same name, probably similar face, generally able to interact with PIDW as himself and change the story through his added presence. I like the sense of “if only you’d been here, things might have been better the first time around” of it all.
And I was thinking, it’s a funny coincidence in that scenario that someone named Shen Yuan gets put into… another Shen Yuan. What are the chances? What a weird twist of fate that Airplane would pick out the name that his most dedicated critic could slip into seamlessly.
What about a version where it’s not coincidence at all?
Airplane goes to school with a kid named Shen Yuan. He’s prickly and hard to approach and a little intense, but Airplane is persistent. In fairness, Airplane is relentless - and maybe it’s a good thing that they end up being friends, because they’re a little too much for anyone else to handle. They balance each other out. They’re the “weird kids” in class and they’re okay with that, because even when they don’t have any words for it, they know they’re not like their classmates, not really. That’s okay; they don’t want to be.
Recesses and breaks are consumed with the elaborate stories that Airplane wants to tell, and all the holes Shen Yuan pokes into them. It’s not mean-spirited, though, even though Shen Yuan isn’t the kind to temper his words. It’s passionate. He cares about those stories the way Airplane cares about them, and it can’t be mistaken for anything else when they lean together conspiratorially across the lunchroom table. They’ve both got notebooks filled with details and characters and monsters. Shen Yuan’s practically got a whole bestiary sketched out in wobbly childhood attempts at art, entries fervently scrawled beside them. Airplane prattles out plots nonstop, always with the promise of shining eyes and being asked “what happens next?”
They come up with a whole world together. Airplane’s going to write about it someday. Shen Yuan is going to read every word.
Shen Yuan misses school. Shen Yuan starts missing school a lot.
Airplane goes to the hospital room instead. He doesn’t think to worry, because Shen Yuan is okay - that’s what he says. He looks okay, and he’s a kid, and it doesn’t feel real that anything bad should happen to a kid. He doesn’t think to worry. He doesn’t think to say goodbye.
It’s one of the older Shen brothers who catches him on the way up to the room one day, in the hallway just outside - snaps at him to go the fuck home, and when Airplane hesitates, pushes him into the elevator and tells him not to come back. “Tells” is a generous way to describe the way the words come out - a growl, a hiss, the sound an animal would make when a hand got too close to a wound.
(It’s not fair to name a villain after him, even if the name never really comes up in the story. He wasn’t trying to be mean. He’d lost a brother minutes before, and he was getting his brother’s friend out of the way so he didn’t have to… see. It isn’t fair, but then, none of it is fair.)
Death feels very real after that.
The notebooks get shoved into a closet, and it’s not until Airplane’s moving out and one falls on him from a high shelf that he thinks about it again. He’s written things, lots of things, but nothing as ambitious as this - nothing as important. It could be good, he considers. He’d promised. Shen Yuan wanted to read it.
The problem was that no one else does, not for a long time, not until Airplane has whittled himself and his art into a corner and into such an unfamiliar shape that he has to wonder how it’s still his own face he sees in the mirror. He has to eat. He has to pay rent. Shen Yuan would yell at him, but Shen Yuan isn’t there to yell at him, and who cares. Who cares if it could have been better? The people who actually are here love it, and it’s paying his bills, and sometimes stories don’t go the way they’re supposed to and the world is fucking unfair. It doesn’t matter.
(It does. But he shoves that thought away along with styrofoam cups and soda bottles to the bottom of a garbage bag.)
Authors are not gods and their power is limited, but Airplane exercises just a sliver of what he’s been granted and gifts an inconsequential sort of immortality. He thinks about making him a rogue cultivator, maybe the kind that goes around documenting beasts and compiling his findings. He thinks about making him someone too powerful for death to touch, or too important to threaten, but when Airplane looks at the world he crafted and everything that’s become of it, it feels like the kindest thing he can do for Shen Yuan is a childhood where he’s loved, and a death that’s peaceful. What does it say about that world, that he’d kill off his best friend too early again instead of making him live there?
(The best writing he ever does is the only, shining moment of humanity that his scum villain ever displays: a lament about death that comes too early, about a brother gone too soon. The commenters praise him. The commenters flatter over how real the emotions feel. The commenters don’t get any response from Airplane on that chapter.)
Death is incredibly real when it comes for him too early, too, still hovering over his keyboard with the story technically finished and incredibly incomplete. Airplane could tell himself that’s because the written version can never be the version in the writer’s head, always shifting and with every possibility still on the table, but he knows better than that. The System knows better than that, with its condescending message about “improving” his writing and “closing plot holes” and “achieving his original vision”...
…and he’s a child again. He’s a child in his own story, he’s Shang Qinghua now without the benefit yet of a peak or cultivation or anything, and maybe he’s a little bitter, and a little scared, and…
And Shen Yuan - with longer hair, with robes, with a couple of older kids watching him from across the street, but undeniably the prickly little boy who used to sit down imperiously across from him and tell him everything that was wrong with the chuck of writing that had been handed to him last period, but with that smile that said he was only invested because he knew it could be better and they were going to make it better - marches up to him with a fire in his eyes and a frown that warns of a coming tirade.
“You told it wrong,” is the first thing he says.
Shang Qinghua wants to ask how him how he’s here, how this is possible, or maybe laugh because, yeah - yeah, Shen Yuan has no goddamn idea how wrong he got absolutely everything.
(Shang Qinghua wants to say “I missed you” and “why did you leave so soon” but he’s here now. He’s right here.)
“I know,” he says instead. “I’m sorry. It all kind of… spiraled out of control.”
Shen Yuan frowns, but then it dissipates the way it always does, and his eyes shine with ideas the way they always used to. “That’s okay,” he relents, grabbing for his hand. “We’ll fix it. We’ll make it what it was supposed to be.”
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welcometogrouchland · 1 month
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Also in the replies of the Steph concept art on twitter announcing she was gonna be in a new project at DC (posted by Travis Mercer), there were at least 3 comments saying "will Tim be there?" I don't care how hard you ship timsteph I'm exploding you with my eyeballs if you do that on my girls post again
#ramblings of a lunatic#taking a step back to acknowledge that my stanning may be getting overzealous#but then again I'm not in ppls quotes or replies I'm vagueing on an entirely different website with no relevant tags. it could be worse#anyway I know tims had it rough these past couple of months ever since zdarsky shifted focus of the batman title to have less tim#but it still feels. idk. just a wee bit uninspired to act like steph can't go two steps without tim being behind her#im ngl i like timsteph when they're cute but timsteph twitter has been. pissing me off a tad lately#the refusal to acknowledge the sexism in dixons robin run and how it impacts stephs writing and their relationships writing#the refusal to acknowledge tims occasional condescension and hypocrisy when it comes to stephs vigilantism#seemingly only wanting her to be spoiler when he wants her around and telling her to give it up most of the time#also the constant disrespect of stephs batgirl era on there weirdly enough?#I've harped on about this on main and in drafts but despite it's flaws it's a good turn for stephs character#she's the focus she gets development (an upward trajectory! which had previously been unheard of for her! bc she did have flaws as spoiler-#-its just that both writers and characters alike seemed to arbitrarily decide she didn't have the capacity to grow past them! but she did!)#hell i saw a BIZARRE take today i just have to bitch about#which was them saying that Batgirl was a ''heteronormative mask'' steph put on#with spoiler being her more authentic self (and this being paralleled to gender expression with stephs isolation from the batfam as spoiler-#-showing how she ''wasnt like them'')#which. I'm not denying you the view that spoiler has a certain genderific swag to her but the needless dragging of her batgirl persona#steph got treated badly as spoiler bc she was A Girl. it's genuinely that simple dixon felt batman and robin would never stand for a girl-#-running around doing the things they did and would need to chivalrously stop her. he's gone on record saying this#she's constantly getting belittled by mostly men (cass also dismisses her but it feels distinctly less gendered)#and in the end it's barbara who learns to give steph a second chance despite her mistakes and they have a positive relationship#something ppl are quick to dismiss as being in and of itself sexist bc they're pairing the two girls off together#as if batgirl isn't a legacy and as if babs and steph don't have parallels in their resilience and refusal to accept when ppl tell them no#for better and for worse!!#like. idk how you took the strongest feminist element in that comic (bc there are elements of sexism here and there! 2009 n all)#and somehow turn it into ''heteronormativity'' YOU PPL ARE JUST SAYING WORDS AT THIS POINT!!!#anyway. someone take away my internet access
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ghostgirl101 · 1 month
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Imagine if Paul Atreides claimed you as his destiny: PART Ⅰ of Ⅱ
|| Word Count: 1.5K || Angst → Fluff ||
A/N: I had this as a big idea that I had to get down before the basic headcanons and stuff, so here's my take on our Lisan al Gaib 😎 if you like this then hit me up for some relationship headcanons and the like, I'm up for it all. Enjoy reading or watching the movie if you haven't already - I'm going again lol, and screen X is the best way to experience it fr Also I feel like I should write a second part to this lmao, if you liked what you read?
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You weren't one for dreams of destiny.
The dreams you had seemed meaningless, confusing, nothing to do with what ifs and what could. Not like his.
But you always seemed to feel some kind of atmosphere, an aura you couldn't quite shake off, even when you woke up from the darkness. There was no face to go with the voice, the voice in the dark that called to you in whispers that you didn't understand. Beautiful words that weren't yours, but sounded so soft and gentle and powerful, as they reached out to you from distant lands.
You could never place them, pin them down and study them, understand them, until the day the Emperor was challenged by a ghost of a lost House, thought to be dead, left to be forgotten. You stand near the Emperor and his guards and men, the Great Houses looming and listening from higher above, as the Fremen fill up the space to watch the confrontation in spirited anticipation.
The life debt was paid. The late Emperor was overthrown. The ascendancy of Paul Atreides rose and took from the throne to claim it.
His attention flicks from his eyes boring coldly into the Emperor's, to meet yours, his voice smooth and set, full of conviction and force.
"Our destiny is together. I'll take her."
Your eyes widen slightly as his words sink in, blinking through the shock and incredulity that rushes through you and makes your heart race in apprehension and wonder. Though his voice twins with your wandering dreams, you don't know whether to feel fascination and longing, or fear and cautiousness at some greater force beyond your understanding, playing out before your very eyes.
"I..." your voice falters in uncertainty and disbelief, and you try again. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me well," Paul responds with an undying, stoic certainty that's almost unnerving. "As I know you."
His eyes study you, his Spice-stained blue eyes bleeding into yours, scanning every freckle on your face and curve of your outfit. Assessing you, knowing you, ridiculous throngs of power filling his aura and projecting onto you with his intense stare. You have to fight not to shiver under it, ultimately failing.
"What of me?" is the wisest reply you can think of before the silence stretches into dangerous uncertainty.
"Everything," Paul says evenly, but there's no mistaking the challenge and determination in his tone, almost daring you to reject him, to disagree, a built-up desire of dreamt promises resolving his stand. "I choose you, as my Empress. We will rule together, over the Empire."
Scepticism and bewilderment washes over you and makes your blood heat and stir, retreating into silence as he takes a step closer to you, gazing at you as if you're the most curious, exotic being he's ever seen.
Desire threatens to override Paul Atreides' reason, clinging onto the hope and chance of a narrow way through to light, a light that could only be sought out with you by his side. Without you, there was nothing in sight but pools of blood replacing luscious marine life and oceans running through Arrakis, disarray and disillusion at every turn and infecting every heart.
You were absolutely perfect.
And you were already his, long before this moment, before you and he were born into the world and named. There was no manipulation needed, because everything was laid out for him to take, welcoming him to rule and grow higher and higher. Fate had bonded you and strung you along to here and now, and as you blink up into his bright eyes that narrow slightly at you, frowning softly as if you hadn't understood his demand.
"Do you know what I am?"
You pause for a moment, speaking slowly and cautiously, as the crowd of Fremen and the wary, late Emperor watch on in tense wordlessness. "You are Leto Atreides' son. Former Duke of Caladan."
"What I am," Paul repeats evenly, "not who I am." He stares at you in silence for another beat, before speaking up again. "Do you know of the Bene Gesserit?"
You stop yourself from glancing in Lady Jessica's direction just in time; the runes patterning her skin, her once soft eyes now spiked with an unfamiliar darkness of ages past. Anyone could get trapped in her watchful glare, and her son's holds almost as much intensity.
"No," you decide on hesitantly.
"Kwisatz Hederach," he adds, taking another step forward until you can feel his breath tickling your cheeks, standing above you with unspoken grace and vigor. "I see the future. A part of me is the future."
His hand is suddenly squeezing yours warmly and tightly, making you flinch slightly and glance down at them before looking back up at him.
"In this future, I am with you."
All you can do is stare at him in awe and wariness, not knowing whether to let your curiosity guide you, or distance yourself as far as possible from the boy who reigns over the dunes.
"Why?" you whisper, the crowds seeming to fade around you as you focus on the boy in front of you, his fingers tangling with yours boldly.
"I've seen it," Paul insists, his tone a touch softer in thought and wistfulness. "All of it. When I am with you..." His grip tightens over yours, the fire in his eyes returning. "We're unstoppable."
"And..." your words dry before you can speak them, and you will yourself to go on, unable to break away from the deep blue hues of his gaze. "And without?"
His jaw visibly clenches at your question, and his hand drops yours, shaking his head only answer as he glances away in slight frustration.
"You don't have the leisure of choice. It's all been made for you, written in the sands and stars, and what you need to do is walk in its path. I will show you the way. You have no other. Do you understand?"
The firmness is strong in his words and glare, making you look away from him too, still in a slight stun over the rush of events. In less than a day, your freedom has been stripped to this young man's desires and destiny, entwined with yours. You, who barely knew him until now, only familiar with his voice, his words, that echoed and rang in your head like a lullaby.
But this feels so harsh and strict. The eyes of the former Emporer linger between the two of you, and Paul's army of Fremen stand behind him attentively, some gazing at you in admiration and hope, of their messiah's promised bride. And she is beautiful.
"That's unfair."
"The future is unfair," Paul says calmly, his collected, cool tone wavering for a moment. "But it will be so much worse without you by my side, and I will not accept that. Not for my people... not for myself."
You stare at him in fascination and caution, lost for words. His fingers rise to brush against the skin of your cheek, sending tingles in their wake and making you fight back the automatic reaction, your eyes following his surprisingly gentle touch. Two fingers trace down the shape of your cheek down to your chin, tilting your head slightly upwards. Just one step closer, and your lips would be touching too.
"Name anything," he murmurs to you, the Fremen straining to hear his voice as it reaches you effortlessly, his expression earnest and determined. "Anything. And it is yours. Only if you willingly wed me in turn. Not as a concubine, nor a mistress."
You blink, then blink again, taken aback as a million thoughts and suggestions race through your mind and make your head spin for a split second. You glance at the elder Emperor, who gazes back at you and the infamous Lisan al Gaib wearily, his eyes clouded with sombreness and light spite.
"I... I don't," you shake your head, overwhelmed by an impossible choice. "I don't know..."
Paul's expression softens into a smile you haven't seen before, one that makes your cheeks flush with colour as you watch him; a gentle, amused smile that's somehow familiar and unfamiliar all at once, one meant just for you, as he disregards his surroundings.
"You will know," he replies quietly, "and I will have you, and protect you, rule with you. Love you. As I am meant to."
Paul suddenly brings you closer, pulling you into a searing kiss without warning. The exotic, earthy taste of the Spice on his tongue floods your senses and sends shudders of ecstasy and heat coursing under your skin and hushing the myriad of thoughts buzzing in your mind in an instant.
When he pulls away, all too soon, you find yourself chasing his lips before you catch yourself, and Paul gives you another soft smile, his forehead resting against yours as your eyes lock.
"And as I long to," he finishes against your lips, his words grounded with a look of protectiveness and desire that makes you instinctively relax further in his hold.
⊹⊹⊹
From beyond you both, his mother smiles slightly at the scene, a hand hovering over her rounded stomach.
The first step has been made.
══════════════⊹⊱≼ part two coming soon ≽⊰⊹══════════════
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writing-fanics · 3 months
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more than anything
Lucifer Morningstar x F!Reader
chapter i > chapter ii > chapter iii
[summary: Charlie Morningstar arrives in hell and meets someone from her dad's past when he was an angel.]
warning: mentions of depression: angst: seemingly unrequited love: loneliness: charlie might be ooc:
Charlie gasped her eyes widened with joy, clasping her hands together jumping up and down excitedly. "Are you Y/n?!" She asked, and the angel looked at her shocked, "You already know about me?" the angel looked at the princess of hell, in disbelief.
"Of course, I do!" She exclaimed, remembering the stories her father used to tell her about, [Y/n].
"My dad would tell me stories about you when I was little!" She said smiling, at [Y/n] who's body tensed up for a moment and her cheeks darkened a little. "Really?" She mumbled, under her breath looking away from the princess for a moment. "I thought he'd forgotten about me." She mumbled, her smile faltering for a moment. Before shaking her head. Forcing a smile on her face.
Charlie looked around the angel's office curiously, "So, your father?" said [Y/n], looking over at Charlie, smiling as she continued to look around the room. "So what did your father tell you about me?" She asked, and the princess of hell nodded.
"Good things I hope?" She said, and the princess of hell looked at the angel. "Of course, he said you were the only angel that believed in him." said Charlie, and the angel smiled reminiscing on times that have long since passed.
"We shared the same dream even adding some ideas onto each others, expanding on them. " said [Y/n], looking down her angelic wings seemed to go limp at her side as she frowned, "That was eons ago," She said, looking down.
Their conversation went on for what seemed like hours, the angel saw so much of the one she loved in his daughter. [Y/n] talked about Lucifer, and stories that he never told Charlie. Charlie watched as the angel's eyes sparkled as she talked about memories. [Y/n]'s heart seemed to swell, and then to suddenly falter back to sadness as she remembered, that she was to shy too scared to confess her feelings for the man she loved.
“You loved him didn’t you?” asked Charlie, and the angel looked over at her in shock and smiled softly, and chuckled softly. “Loved?” said [Y/n], and she smiled her eyes closed as she turned towards Charlie. “I still love him?” She said, her smile forced.
She said, “I couldn't bring myself to tell him,” She wrapped her arms around herself, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh. “I was afraid of ruining the friendship we already had.” She said, placing her hand on her head her thumb resting on her cheek, as she turned away from Charlie. Letting out a sigh, “I-If he didn’t accept my feelings, I didn't wanna lose what we already had." She bit her lip nervously, and turned back towards Charlie.
“S-So I didn’t." She said, looking at Charlie. The Princess of Hell, could see the sadness and loneliness in her eyes. Eyes that were filled with so much regret, "So, I watched as he fell in love with another." Her voice cracking slightly, clearing her throat she continued.
She pursed her lips inward, "Did and said nothing as he was banished to Hell," She looked down, "But, I can't take back what happened eons ago." She said, forcing a smile on her face as she looked at Charlie.
"So tell me about this Hazbin Hotel, I've been hearing so much about?" She asked, curiously and Charlie's eyes lit up. "Your father, wouldn't of set up a meeting with Heaven, without a reason." She said, and Charlie nodded.
[Y/n] listened intently about Charlie's plan, even though she was going to hear it again in court. She nodded in response smiling, "Sounds intriguing." the angel said, looking at the girl. "I do agree that everyone deserves a second chance." She said, a smile growing across Charlie's face.
"If those sinners that come to the hotel are willing." She added, placing her hands on her desk and sighed. "But, it isn't me who you are going to have too convince." She added, and Charlie looked at her, "But, I believe in the cause." She said, smiling looking at the princess of hell.
[Y/n] looked at Charlie and saw so much of her father in her, her heart couldn't help but ache. "You remind me of your father." Charlie looked at her and smiled, "Thank you, if it wasn't for him I wouldn't be here right now." said Charlie, “The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.” said [Y/n] a hint of sadness in her voice.
Charlie smiled softly, "You really do love my dad don't you?" asked Charlie, and the angel looked away closing her eyes for a moment. Taking a deep breath and with a solemn look on her face, she turned back towards Charlie. "More than anything." said [Y/n] sadly, the room filled with silence. She still loves him even after eons have since passed they've last seen each other, "Sorry, I shouldn't even be saying this to you." She said shaking her head.
She scoffed at herself, "Telling you his daughter that I've got some silly crush on him," She shook her head and placed her head on her desk, "Ugh, I'm so pathetic!" She groaned, into her desk. For eons, after Lucifer was banished to Hell. [Y/n] hasn't been the same since forcing a fake smile on her face, while doing her daily angelic duties. With a fake smile plastered on her face.
One the inside she was hurting. She was lonely. She was depressed. Filled with so much regret being the cause of her own lonely existence. If she wasn't such a coward maybe things would've ended up differently maybe they wouldn't?
Charlie placed a hand on shoulder causing [Y/n], to lift her head and look up at her. "I'm sure he misses you just as you miss him." said Charlie smiling, trying to comfort the angel as much as she could.
"He used to tell me so many amazing and wonderful things about you," She said. [Y/n]'s lower lip started to quiver as tears welled up in her eyes, hiding her head into desk. She glanced over at the clock on the wall; lifting her head up from the desk. She wiped away her tears, "I-It's almost time for the court meeting. You should probably get ready." said [Y/n], as she stood up from her chair.
"Maybe, you can visit once this is all over?" Charlie said, and the angel looked at her and smiled, "I'm sure that would make both his and yours day." The angel really could see so much of the man she loved in his daughter, "That sounds like a dream to me." said [Y/n], as she walked towards the door and placing her hand on the door knob.
She missed him dearly and for many years she stayed in heaven, wallowing in self-pity and regret. Loneliness and heartbreak. Grieving over the lover she was to cowards to confess her feelings towards.
"But, I don't know. Right now you should focus on convincing the angels." She said looking at the young demon, as her gaze drifted towards the ground. "I-I shouldn't of even mentioned what I said today." She said a solemn look on her face.
"You have nothing to apologize for." She said, looking at Charlie and smiling, "I have only myself to blame." She smiled sadly, and Charlie and the princess of hell a gave her a sympathetic smile. As Charlie left the room, "Charlie?" The Princess stopped and turned around, "When you see him again." She said, "L-Let him know." She stammered, nervously biting her lip her wings limp at her side.
"L-Let him know that I miss him more than anything," She said sadly, and Charlie smiled and nodded. [Y/n] watched as she walked away, and closed the door behind her and turned away. Leaning her back against the door, she sank to the ground and brought her knees to her chest and cried. "I really am pathetic," She sniffled, once again wallowing in self-pity.
"E-Even, if I were to go and visit would he even wanna see me?" She mumbled, maybe she should. She didn't expect anything from it but, maybe it would fill the hole in her immortal heart. The thought of seeing him again brought a smile to her face, she really did love him with every fiber of her being. She envied Lilith and was jealous of her not in a hateful or spiteful way.
She just..[Y/n] sighed, wiping away her tears. Standing to her feet and dusting herself off, taking a deep breath in and exhaling. As she placed her hand on the doorknob, sighed, leaving her office and making her way towards the courthouse.
If only she knew how much he truly did miss her, as on his desk. Sat a rubber duck that shared the same angelic features as her, wings and all. If only she knew how is heart would ache, as he would glance at it.
if only she knew
how much she truly means to him
a/n: ngl..i kinda wanna maybe make her charlie's stepmom.. i mean she still loves lilth of course but.. i mean.. like.. come on.. i should..
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jinkicake · 11 months
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Spring Is In The Air~
Something happens to them when the seasons change. 
Itto, Tighnari, Yae Miko, Zhongli x Reader
A/N: I wrote this like two months ago and never posted it... I’ve always wanted to try writing something like this so here is my pathetic attempt! It’s corny BUT, smutty!!! :-)
WC - 2,224
NSFWWWW // SMUTTYYY
~~~
ITTO
Itto is not subtle. Try as he might, the poor oni cannot learn the art of subtlety. His reactions always give him away to you within seconds. 
His struggle can currently be seen in the way he braces himself against the counter but still attempts to stand up straight to play it off. 
“Hey,” He sounds breathless, almost as if it is hard for him to breathe. You know he’s going to break any moment now, you can see it as his chest begins to rapidly rise and fall. His breathing quickens and all you can do is stare at his expanding chest. “I need you.”
Itto breaks every spring and putting him back together is your favorite part.
“Fuck me, fuck me!” Itto groans loudly and the sounds, one after another, fly off of the walls. He’s absolutely losing himself as you bounce on his lap, up and down while your thighs pound against his own. The pace is fast, quick, and your knees are not able to handle it alone. It’s entirely him, Itto uses the strength in his muscular arms to toss you around on his lap. His tongue hangs out of his mouth, eyes squeezed together shut all while both of your hands are wrapped around his throat. “Yes, yes, yes,” It’s almost pathetic, the way he is singing your praise and grinds down onto the mattress. He can’t get enough of the feeling, of it all. 
Itto is loud in everything that he does and he never shies away from expressing his desires. 
“I’m gonna cum so fucking hard,” He sounds entirely desperate, almost as if he is about to break into tears. You squeeze your thighs together and watch his every reaction as you clamp around him. His reaction is almost imminent. Itto’s hands on your waist squeeze you tightly as his bare nails dig into your skin as he cums with a drawn-out groan. The oni chases his high without stopping, still wildly thrusting up into you just as before. His pace then grows slower, impossibly slow as he slams into you a handful of times. There’s something final about this but, you know better. 
This is just the beginning. It takes hours to satisfy Itto, especially during the spring. 
You don’t even have the chance to catch your breath before you feel him twitching inside of you again, now hard as ever. His fast recovery is almost as quick as his reflexes. Itto pulls you off of him within a flash before mounting you from behind. 
“I’m sorry, just one more, one more, okay?” You can hear how his voice shakes in your ear but, you don’t have the chance to reply as he effortlessly slides back into you. In this position, you can hear everything, every puff of air that escapes his lips and every whimper that falls. Itto cries into your ear, tongue lapping at the surface as he moves his hips at a quick pace. “You’re fucking me so good,” 
You can almost feel him in your fucking stomach as you clamp around him but, his brutal strides feel so good. Each thrust against your bottom sends you flying and you end up face-first in the duvet. Itto keeps you still with a firm hand on your hip but, you can imagine how broken his expression must be as he groans above you. 
“One more time, one more time,”
((It’s never just one time with him.))
TIGHNARI
“(Y/N), please,” 
Hearing the forest ranger beg is something you are not used to. Tighnari never begs or yearns for your touch and attention. If he wants something, he takes it with little hesitation. 
Except when the seasons begin to change. 
When the air grows colder, something primal shifts in Tighnari. You can see it in the way his eyes soften into pools of need and how he becomes much more sensitive to the slightest touch. If you even think about touching his fingers, over his gloves, he will drop whatever is in his hands. 
Tighnari becomes reactive all over. 
“It’s happening again.” He murmurs into your ear as he presses up against your side. His tail wraps around your thigh, squeezing over and over again as he ruts into your leg. “I need you.” When Tighnari gets like this, you know it’s best to just let him take. 
“You poor thing,” Your voice is full of sympathy, perhaps a bit condescending, and it makes the forest ranger whimper. His ears flatten against the top of his head as his eyes squeeze shut in concentration. Your quiet sighs and hums only make him more delirious, Tighnari burrows his face into the crook of your neck and simply inhales. His breathing gets heavier as his messy thrusts become erratic. If he had not been holding onto you so tightly, you’re sure you would have fallen to the floor by now. 
He cums with a gasp, one that sucks the air from his lungs, and he tries to hide it by biting on your shoulder. Tighnari grits his teeth against your skin as little whimpers leave his lips, his tail rapidly thumping against your leg. His weight becomes too much and you both sink to the floor under his passion. 
That first orgasm meant nothing to him, it’s merely a warm-up. 
Tighnari can’t even bring himself to guide you to your shared bedroom, he takes you on the floor. 
He can’t help the way that he spreads your thighs and licks, running his tongue along your slit. The poor man devours it all, spitting and lapping up at whatever he can reach. His harsh sucks make you shiver and squirm but, you can’t move under the tight grip he has on your waist. 
“Ah,” Whatever Tighnari planned to say is muffled by your cunt as he shoves his tongue inside of you. He thrusts the muscle as far as he can go, ears flattened in concentration while his nose grinds against your clit. It’s as if he has become utterly consumed by you, everything about you because all he can focus on is getting his tongue in you as deep as possible. 
But then, he suddenly pulls himself off of you as if it hurts to touch you.
In the blink of an eye, Tighnari is above you, staring down while his legs get situated between your own. 
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry but, I need it,” His breathing has become erratic, eyes almost feral as he begins to heavily salivate. With his primal urges brought to the surface, you know you won’t be able to leave this position and similar ones for a few days. “I have to- I have to fuck you.” 
YAE MIKO
With the amount of time you’ve spent beside Yae Miko, you know her exceptionally well. 
You know when something begins to shift within her, almost as if it is in the air. It’s seen in the way the other shrine maidens keep their distance and in the way Miko’s fingers dance along your skin as she grabs you at any possible opportunity. She makes sure that she’s touching your bare skin, her pink nails nearly breaking it as she stands behind you. 
“I require your assistance, pet,” Her breathy voice always confirms it for you and is the tell-tale sign of when her primal urges begin to show. She drags you by your wrist to a lone room, one decorated exceptionally well with everything you could need to last for weeks. Your lover’s touch grows lighter.
“You know what I need from you.” Yae Miko stares down at you as if she is truly looking down on you, her eyes hold little interest but you know better. You can see how her finger is nearly starting to tremble and how her lips have begun to part. “Come here,” She doesn’t even have to lift a finger for you to stand in front of her, within her grasp. 
Her lips are on you without another second to spare. Immediately, it’s all tongue. She parts your lips with tight squeezes of your sides before her hands move to paw at your breasts. While letting her tongue run over your own, shoving the muscle as far down your throat as she can, she towers above you. Her moans are low and entirely full of pleasure. 
You have a belief that her urges bring out something in you, something similar because you can’t help but want to be used by her every season. 
With heavy hands, Miko pushes you to the ground forcefully on your back. She slowly lowers to her knees, watching you carefully as you pathetically stare up at her. Your lips are still part and slightly swollen because of her previous ministrations. It makes her heart stop as desire stirs in the pit of her stomach. 
She spreads your legs with her slim hands and hooks one of your thighs over her own. Your underwear is discarded in seconds by her nails and her shorts are magically on another side of the room. 
Yae Miko’s lips turn slightly upwards, almost in a mischievous grin as she presses your leg to your chest and sits on top of you. She’s hot, the touch of her skin nearly makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. An immediate roll of her hips makes you moan loudly, the feeling of her sopping cunt against your own renders you speechless. 
“How funny,” She coos but, struggles to hide back her own shakey exhales. Desire takes the forefront of her brain and all she can think about is satisfying the demanding urge in the pit of her stomach. Over and over, she presses her clit against your own and rubs at the sensitive area while roughly thrusting her hips. This is only the beginning, you’re too aware of it. 
With the way Miko is squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipple, you can’t help but anticipate the rest of her plans with you. 
ZHONGLI
After spending lifetimes with Zhongli, you still end up winded when the seasons change. 
Your husband is a dutiful man and always gives you a fair warning, a notice before something ever happens with his body. However, sometimes a warning is not nearly enough. 
It’s been days since his insides have turned into a molten heat and Zhongli has not been shy about tackling this issue with you. You’re always so good to him, let him do whatever he desires just to satisfy the annoying urges. 
Day after day, he can’t help but grow stronger about his affections. He’s a selfish man and he desperately needs more. 
“Oh, you’re-” The words can’t even leave his lips as his head tilts back, a loud moan leaves his lips. Zhongli grits his teeth painfully, grinding them down as his hand tightens in your hair. He’s not being careful and neither are you. You continue to choke on him, around him, as your spit coats his entire cock. The cool sensation makes your husband’s thighs twitch as he grunts at the feeling spreading between his legs. 
You feel incredibly lucky that his primal form has yet to take over, perhaps it won’t even show this time around. It would be nearly impossible to satisfy him with another appendage hanging between his thighs. But, the thought still makes you moan wantingly. 
“My love-” Zhongli finds it hard to speak, his balls painfully tight and it only gets worse when he sees your hand hidden between your thighs. He focuses on your fingers moving against your clit and his eyes nearly turn into slits as he focuses on the image. The realization that this brings you as much pleasure as it does him causes a guttural groan to leave his chest. “Come here,”
His voice changes, it becomes much deeper, much more commanding. Zhongli doesn’t wait for you, he roughly pulls you up to your feet before pulling you into his lap. The way he manhandles you, forcing you to sit back on his face makes your entire being light up with need. 
“Morax!” You screech as your hands press into his abdomen, his tongue doesn’t waste a second now that you’re on him. The archon presses his tongue into your cunt, thrusting in and out before running the muscle over your clit. The stimulation makes it hard to focus but, you still reach for his heavy cock. 
You grip him tightly and lick at his slit, tongue digging into the area as you hum at the taste. Zhongli’s grip on your thighs becomes stronger and he fights back with his sharp nails digging into your skin. Had you been any more focused, you would have thought he had grown claws.
Your cunt pulses around his tongue and all Zhongli can do is continue to shove the muscle inside of you. He doesn’t shy away from rubbing against your walls, no, he has his own agenda. It’s almost sick how he coaxes you to gush around him, all so he can swallow it greedily to satisfy some gut-clenching demand. 
But, he can’t help it, he also can’t help how his skin begins to turn and scales spread across his arms. He can’t help but connect with his primal side when you satisfy the very deepest desires that he has. 
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ccsainzleclerc5516 · 1 month
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Preggers
Pairing: Lando Norris x reader
Warnings: fluff, smut!
a/n: sequel to Racing Simulator, enjoy!!!
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"Fuck.." You sighed closing your eyes. Your palms were sweating and resting on the sink as you waited for the results of the pregnancy test you just took without Lando knowing.
Your mouth went dry and your legs wobbled when you opened your eyes to see another line appear on the test. Positive.
Your body felt as if a heat wave just hit you. You were overwhelmed by a wide range of emotions as you put your hand over you belly trying to make yourself aware that a new life will grow in you in the coming months.
You decided to take the test secretly without anyone knowing because you didn't want anyone to put any kind of pressure on you. You've been feeling weird for the past two weeks and as a woman you knew something was happening to your body something you've never felt before.
The possibility of being pregnant immediately crossed your mind especially after coming onto Lando like a horny teenager that day in his racing chair. You were well aware that there was a great chance you were gonna get pregnant because you were ovulating and that very day you just had to spice it up.
You wisely tried to hide symptoms like nausea, inexplicable feeling of fatigue and headache. You even tried to fool yourself by attributing it all to stress at work, but it was only when you missed your period you decided to stop denying the possibility that you are pregnant. And now that you are standing over the sink looking at two clear lines, you have convinced yourself that a woman's intuition is never wrong.
You didn't even realize that a few tears ran down your cheeks until you looked yourself up in the mirror and blinked a couple of times. Taking a deep breath in you turned on the faucet and splashed cold water over your face to come to your senses before going to look for Lando.
When you finally managed to get yourself together, you went to the kitchen, leaving the test behind in the bathroom. You poured yourself a glass of water looking over the kitchen island at Lando who was lying on the couch in the living room.
"Baby?" He asked looking at you from the couch, but you just kept staring at him without blinking. "Is everything okay?" He asked again, but there was no answer from you which instantly made him get up and walk over to you.
"Y/n, what's wrong? Talk to me." His gaze was full of concern as he cupped your face between his hands making you look up at him.
"I-I.." You stuttered, struggling to get the sentence out. "I have to tell you something." You put your hands over his tightening your grip around them.
"What? Tell me."
"Uh..I.." Nervousness washed over you, words didn't have the courage to leave your mouth because you didn't know what his reaction would be. you didn't often touch on the topic of children even though you had been together for 4 years. You loved each other more than anything, but you wanted to enjoy your youth as long as you could.
"Y/n, please, tell me what's going on. You're all pale and I'm getting really-"
"I'm pregnant." You cut him off making his jaw drop and eyes widen. It took him a second to process what you just said before he chuckled and let out a deep sigh of relief.
"Baby..are you really?" His eyes sparkled. You didn't know at that moment, in fact, you were even confused by his reaction, but it was as if he had been dying to hear those words all this time.
"Yeah..I just took the test in the bathroom" You nodded your head smiling with teary eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours and laughed sweetly before tightly wrapping his arms around yours shoulders.
"You're freaking me out a little with how happy you are" You admit pulling back from the hug to look at him.
"Of course I'm happy. My woman is having my baby. How could I not be?" He couldn't hide his excitement and that was definitely a relief and an encouragement, but you were still kind of terrified of the new unfamiliar situation you found yourself in. "Are you not?"
"I mean..I'm a little scared. I wasn't expecting this now" He raised his eyebrows giving you a doubtful look tilting his head to the side making both of you laugh as he remembered that day he finished inside you without you complaining. "Oh stop it!" You laughed, softly punching his chest before he pulled you to himself again and you leaned your head against him.
"You have nothing to be scared of okay? I'll take care of you, of us. " His words and his hug were enough to erase every fear, every uncertainty and question mark above your head. His embrace was your safe haven, your refuge and your home where you felt the best. "We're in this together. It was going to happen sooner or later."
"You've thought about us starting a family?" You ask looking up at the blue eyes.
"For quite some time now"
"Really?" You asked visibly taken aback, but positively surprised.
"There was one particular moment when I started fantasizing about us having a kid. It was when you met Mila for the first time. When we came for a family dinner at my parents' house and then after a while you disappeared from the table and I found you two in the playroom having a tea party." Both of you smiled as he tucked your hair behind your ear reminiscing the heart warming moment.
"The way you played with her, the way you talked to her..It was so natural for you and she was delighted with you. I was just standing there at the door admiring the two of you and then my mom saw me and it was like she could read my mind right at that moment. She was like "don't wait for too long Lando". And that's when I knew, I knew you'd be the one to carry my baby one day. Nobody else but you."
"Baby, that's so sweet.." It looked like the pregnancy hormones had already kicked in because his words made you a whimpering mess beneath him. You were sobbing as you listened to the man you loved more than anything talk about everything a woman could wish for.
"Just think about us lying in bed in the morning, our baby between us. We're looking at her, kissing her, cuddling her..I can't wait to protect both of you for the rest of my life you know?"
The scene that you pictured in your head was heaven itself just like he described it and now the excitement and joy prevailed in you and the color returned to your face when you realized that everything would be fine. Everything would be just like you've always dreamed of and more.
"Now I can't wait to meet baby Norris." You said quietly giving a soft long kiss to his lips.
"Yeah, baby Norris." He proudly repeated after you loving the way it sounded. "And when are you going to let me make you mrs Norris?" He asked and you smiled shyly looking down.
If it only had been up to Lando, he would probably have married you that day when you met Mila. He knew you were the one for him. You were the one thing he was completely sure of without a single doubt in his mind. You felt the same way about him as well, but you always thought that you should wait a little longer, that you are too young, that you are not in a hurry. There was also a constant pressure from the public that you were not ready to deal with so Lando waited patiently for you to be ready.
"Now is the perfect time to take my last name." He said.
"No, people will think that you're marrying me only because you got me pregnant and I don't want that."
"I don't care what others will think. You and I both know that's not true. C'mon, baby, be my wife." He kissed you and you wrapped your arms around his neck giggling into the kiss as he seemed to propose you right then and there.
"Maybe I should accept it now that you're offering because maybe you won't want to marry me later when I'm all fat and swollen."
"Me not wanting to marry you? That is unlikely to ever happen. Besides," He says between kisses, gripping your ass he pulled you to him pressing you against his already semi hard crotch. "I can't wait to have you walking around with round belly and full breasts. Fuck, it's turning me on so much." His hands moved to your belly gently rubbing it then up to your tits underneath your cropped wide t shirt giving them a tight squeeze.
"Is that so?" You smirk deciding to go along with what he just started. "You gonna help me out with sore breasts?"
"Fuck yes baby. Gonna take such a good care of you. " The soft kisses quickly turned into more passionate and deep ones pushing tongue into each others mouth. "Turn around for me" You do as he pleases bending over the kitchen island as he grinds himself against your butt.
"I'm so hard, can you feel it?" He whispers into your ear making you shiver. Pulling your legging just below your butt, his hand slips inside your panties. His fingers quickly trace over your wet folds before attaching them to your sensitive bud. "So wet for me, fuuuck. You're my good girl, aren't you?" You nod closing your eyes and throwing your head back on his shoulder.
"Arch your back for me" He gently takes your hips in his hands pushing you onto the hard cold surface and collecting your hair into a ponytail. Teasing you with his tip at your entrance you push yourself back against him until you have him deep inside you.
"Ahh, feels so good"
"I wish you could see my point of view right now, so fucking hot." His eyes were glued on his cock disappearing into your pussy, drenching him in your wetness. "I'm not pulling out anymore, I'm gonna cum in you every time you let me fuck you"
"Oh Lando..yess, please"
"Everyone will know that I'm the one who put a baby in you. That I fucked you so good, filled you up so deep, yeah? Shit, baby.." His hands were desperately clutching at your hair while he was slamming hard into your hole. The slapping of your skin against his echoing through the kitchen.
"Yes, you fuck me so good Lando. Keep going, I'm so close." A couple more thrusts later, his hot breath against your skin and soon you were reaching your highs panting out his name.
"Fuck baby, look how much you came" His eyebrows furrowed and lips parted groaning when he saw that you left white ring around his cock taking him again and again. "Gonna play with your pussy every day. Shit, I'm gonna cum, oh shit" The sight drove him crazy, you could feel him pulsating before he spilled his cum inside you pushing his cock as deep as it went.
"You did so good, so so good." His arms pulled you to him trapping you in a tight embrace as he left small kisses on your cheek and your shoulder.
You wince as you feel him pull out of you, your juices dripping down your thighs making him curse under his breath. Unable to resist the urge, his hand slips down to your thighs collecting the dripping cum with his fingers and rubbing it all over your pussy again.
"My beautiful, most beautiful pregnant girl."
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ectoplasmer · 1 year
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clarification because i swear i don't practice favoritism (i so do sometimes but shhh): i think about marrying all the others just as much as I do ryou but he just so happens to be the one i talk about the most so sjjfdsh
#and i also realize that it usually sounds like i'm seeing yb in a bad light whenever i talk about what ryou has been through#and i'm not saying that what he did was okay#but i am saying that they've both changed and grown and have been working together to better balance out each other#yes bakura obviously hurt his host and no i don't think that is something that is going to be fixed easily#i see ryou still get somewhat uncomfortable whenever the subject is directly approached and i don't think he's completely forgiven yb yet#and that's completely okay. i don't expect him to do that and i don't think bakura does either#but bakura has been trying to change and be better even if it's in small ways#he doesn't completely control ryou's life anymore. he doesn't try to use him as a means to an end#he doesn't see him as *just* a host body anymore#ryou had absolutely no reason to give him a second chance when the ring ended up with him again but#he still did. even after everything#i don't know why. i don't try to push for the answer because i know ryou will tell me whenever he's ready to#but whatever the reason was it's gotten them this far. and i'm very happy about that <3#they've both grown a lot within the time i've known them#if we were to get promise rings or whatever#and either of them wore it#it'd be a symbol that they've both changed. that they've both been able to grow and be (somewhere) better#and that makes me even more lovesick for the both of them <3#(sidenote: in my personal interpretation of canon; i think most of the injuries yb caused were out of impulse rather than malicious intent.#especially with monster world i think that was more of a defensive response to avoid having his plan ruined xP#like it's mentioned very vaguely and momentarily but yb cares for ryou!! even if it's in a very backwards and misguided way#over here collecting the souls of his friends because he said he wanted to play with them forever.#he's got the right intentions VERY WRONG EXECUTION!!! anyway#i. love them but they both need help i think skjhhkjsa#proud of them both though <33)#spooky ghosts#four of spades
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cozage · 8 months
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Kinks
Happy OPLA Weekend! Here's to celebrate that and to say thank you for everyone sticking around even if you don't love my current Ace content. ILY and appreciate you!!!
So yeah this is just like…dirty smut headcanons, so if you’re under 18 don’t let me catch you here
Characters: female reader x Ace, Zoro, Sanji, Luffy, Law, Kid CW: NSFW!!! kinks, kinks, and more kinks. Daddy kink, tit obsession, pregnancy kink, body worship, food play, glasses kink, belly bulge, praising, rough sex, dumbification, oral (giving and receiving) Total Word Count: 1.2k
Ace- daddy kink
This man has daddy AND mommy issues and it SHOWS!!! The first time it happened, it slipped out on accident. You had just gotten on your knees and slipped your lips over the tip of his cock. 
“Show me what you can do, mama.”
As soon as the words were out, you looked up at him curiously to find a soft blush on his cheeks, but you didn’t comment on it. You waited until he let out an exceptionally loud groan, and then smirked up at him. 
“You like that, daddy?” You asked innocently. You could feel his dick twitch in your hands at your words, confirming your suspicions. 
You found you liked it too. It was fun to babble the words as he slammed you down on the mattress and fucked you senseless. Every time you whimpered out “yes daddy” or “more daddy”, his thrusts seemed to somehow go deeper into you, hitting the spot that got you closer to the brink of an orgasm. 
Zoro- tit kink
Oh, Zoro loves your tits. He loves to pinch them, suck them, fuck them, anything you can think of. It’s his favorite place to cum, just watching his milky white substance leak over your soft, perky breasts makes him want to take you another round
He loves when you ride him, because he gets the perfect view of them bouncing up and down so enthusiastically. He loves watching them match the pace of his thrusts, pushing himself deeper inside you. 
You always have some kind of hickey or bite mark from him there, marking his territory every chance he gets. Even when you lay in bed, he likes to lay on your chest, and occasionally kiss or softly bite your exposed skin there. 
Sanji- pregnancy kink & body worship
Oh, the second Sanji found out you were pregnant, he became a feral animal. You never knew peace after that. 
The day he noticed your little belly bump? You went three rounds. Luckily he let you be a pillow princess because he knows how hard your body is working to carry a child. 
You have to start wearing baggy clothes because just the sight of your swollen belly makes him get a hard-on. He gets a little out of control. 
And your boobs getting bigger??? Oh, the day he realized that he nearly passed out from excitement. 
When you don’t feel like having sex, he never pressures you. He just covers your belly in kisses and whispers to the baby growing inside of you, already telling them about the All Blue and all of the dreams the two of you have, and how he can’t wait to meet them and find all of your dreams together. 
Luffy- food kink
This shouldn’t come as a surprise. Luffy loves food, and he loves you. Of course they can go together. 
Luffy suggests some CRAZY stuff at first, like coating some meat with your slick after he makes you cum a few times. He thinks the two best things he’s ever tasted (meat and you) would go great together. 
You recommend starting out small: strawberries, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce. He reluctantly agrees, though he wanted you for a main meal rather than dessert. 
He likes your ideas quite a lot, the only problem is that there’s not enough. He wants more, more, more. He loves drizzling warm chocolate across your cunt and lapping it up with his tongue, your moans serenading him as he feasts. 
You don’t even get to do anything with the food the first time you try, he’s too consumed with trying everything he has at different places across your body, listening to how you react to each item and how you whimper every time he licks it up. 
You should’ve never mentioned food in the bedroom, because now every time Sanji makes something new, Luffy's wide eyes are staring at you, silently asking you: can we try this tonight? 
Law-glasses kink
“Do you even need glasses!?” You laughed, taking his off. “I feel like I can see normally in these.”
“They’re reading glasses,” Law said, trying to ignore the throbbing in his cock, now pressing firmly against his jeans. “And they suit you quite nicely. You should wear them more often.”
“You think?” You put them back on and scrunched your nose at him. 
He tried to ignore it. He really did. But then you started wearing them as you laid in bed while you read a book and waited for him to join you. 
He had practically pounced on you. When you had gone to take your glasses off, he had practically growled at you to keep them on. 
You had never been fucked like the way Trafalgar Law fucked you that night. He was primal, jumping straight to pushing himself deep inside. No foreplay needed, he was already hard as a rock and his skillful fingers only needed to pump inside you a few times before you were well lubricated. 
God, he loved the way your nose crinkled and your eyes fluttered behind the rims of those glasses. He couldn’t take your eyes off you, seeing the tiniest little reactions you give in a new light. 
And when you sucked him off, it took everything he had not to cum the moment your lips touched his cock. The way you peered over the frames, trying to act all sweet and innocent. But you had figured out his weakness, and you loved the way his golden eyes were always locked onto you as you bobbed your head up and down his dick. 
Quite frankly, it would be hard for you to take those glasses off now that you knew how much he loved them. 
Kid-belly bulge kink
“Look at that.” Kid pressed down on your stomach, making you whine with pleasure. “Oh fuck, I can feel myself.”
You could see it too. A slight bulge in your stomach had just appeared only when Kid was balls deep in you, holding himself there. Admiring himself. 
“It’s too much,” you gasped. Though your tightened walls around his cock said otherwise. 
“Such a good girl.” He pulled out of you almost completely just to slam back into you, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. He loved to way you could take him all at once, in one full, quick stroke. 
You cried out, tears gathering on the end of your lashes. But he held you there, flush against him as he admired just how deep he was inside of you.
He fucked you hard and fast after that, the thought of his size in you. Just thinking about it made him almost cum. He kept his hand on your stomach, stuttering every time he felt himself through your abdomen. 
He couldn’t help but try out all different positions after that, his hand always firmly pressed against your stomach. He wanted to know all the positions that would make himself evident in you again, and he wouldn’t stop until he had discovered every single one.
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boneblushed · 4 months
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Labyrinth
Uh oh, I’m falling in love / Oh no, I’m falling in love again
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synopsis you’re reunited with your ex-boyfriend, Rafe, at an Outer Banks wedding.
tags Rafe Cameron x fem!reader, exes to lovers, second chance romance, slowburn-ish, A LOT of angst, an equal amount of pining, an awful breakup but a wonderful reconciliation 💓
wc ~11k
“You look,” you murmur, squeezing Brooklyn’s shoulder gently, “perfect.”
She’s sitting in front of a round, gold-rimmed mirror, the windows on either side of her painting her skin a warm aureate. You stand in shadow behind her, the sunbeams unable to reach your pretty features. There’s a wistfulness to them that’s almost imperceptible.
Almost. If she weren’t your best friend, someone you’ve known since forever, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the way you were hiding from them. The smile on her face falters as she looks up at you through the mirror.
“Look,” she begins tentatively, frowning, “if this is too hard —”
“Do not,” you interrupt. You try for an encouraging smile; what you hope is an encouraging smile. “I’m totally fine, okay? I’m over it.”
A pause. Brooklyn’s reflection sends you a long, hard look. “No one would blame you if you weren’t.”
You know what that means, the insinuation behind her words: you were supposed to be the first one. It’s all anyone in the Figure Eight was saying when they first found out about your break-up: you’re meant for each other, though, we can’t imagine you not being a couple!
Well, neither could you, not that it really mattered. Six months on with half a heart and pulseless motive, you’ve come to realise that wretched pining comes at a costly price.
You can’t afford it anymore.
“I know,” you reply quietly.
The spaghetti strap of your cowl neck falls as you straighten, the periwinkle fabric shimmering forebodingly. An image of the Rafe you knew flashes in your mind, slipping it down to press a kiss on your skin. Your stomach drops.
“But I am,” you add, louder. As though you’re trying to convince yourself more than you are her. “I promise.”
Brooklyn stares at you for a long time before her gaze falls, acquiescing with a sigh. “I hate that you still don’t believe it.”
“Believe what?”
“That he could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve you.”
You bite back another wince, the fresh sting of forgotten feelings pricking at your eyelids. “I do believe it,” you say quietly. “I do. That’s what makes all of this so fucking hard — that I know we’re never getting a second chance. That he chose to throw all of it away and I’m never going to be able to forgive him for it.”
“You shouldn’t have to, though!”
“We were together for half our lives, Brooke!” You turn away from the mirror, taking in a jagged breath. “We — his mom had promised me her ring before she died, for God’s sake. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to walk away from what we had?”
A long pause. Brooke’s voice is gentle, but her words cut like a knife. “It’s not as though you had a choice, Y/N/N. He didn’t give you one.”
You look around at her, unshed tears making your pretty eyes shine. “What does it say about me that I’m no closer to accepting that than I was six months ago?”
“Babe.” A tear falls. Brooke’s features soften, and she pulls you into a tight hug, enough pressure to wring out the melancholy in your chest. “It says that you’re human.”
She rocks you for a moment before you’re forced to pull apart, a knock on the door breaking your reverie. “God,” you self-reproach, sending Brooklyn a watery smile. “I would find a way to make your day about me, wouldn’t I?”
“Maybe I should ditch Kelce,” Brooklyn replies faux-seriously, catching the stray tears wetting your lower lids. “We can elope or something.”
As though on queue, the Universe intervenes before she can go through with this idea. Perhaps it knows, having watched the pair of grow close throughout college, that there’s a part of her that really would call this all off if you asked her to.
“Sweetheart!” Comes Brooklyn’s father’s voice from behind the door, punctuated by the sharp rap of his knuckles. “It’s nearly time!”
The tension ebbs. Suddenly, everything about this wedding—the same one you’ve been helping her plan forever—becomes entirely too real. Your melancholia is a tide in this way, flowing forth and receding as its surroundings permit. Never fading away; ever-present. Though it may not be as unbearable now as it was when you first broke up, it lingers.
You’re afraid that it always will. You push down this fear like you’ve done every other.
Focus. Your eyes widen in anticipation, mirroring Brooklyn’s as they transform into nervous excitement.
“Come in!” Brooklyn calls anxiously, biting back a squeal. You’re grateful for the fact that you haven’t ruined her mood completely. “Oh my god. Oh my god!”
She stands up and turns around just as her father enters the room, his lined face shining with a wistful sense of happiness. As the atmosphere in the room shifts, she glances back at you, and your insides twist in cruel mocking. More repentant than jealous. I was supposed to be the first one.
You don’t let your expression falter. The first few chords of the processional float into the room through the ajar door, and you spring into action, smoothing out your dress and readjusting your bouquet of flowers.
“That’s my queue,” you say, squeezing her arm once more before slipping past her and her father.
In true Kook fashion, Brooklyn’s wedding ceremony is taking place on the Island Club green. Upon exiting the storage room you’ve transformed into a vanity, you find yourself in the entranceway that leads to the venue, the set-up just visible beyond its oak doors.
Benches of beige driftwood sit on either side of the aisle, twined with buttery white lilies and ivy-like viridescence. They face a brilliant floral wedding arch, where the officiant and Kelce stand talking in hushed whispers. And the sky above you is a vibrant, cloudless blue, golden sunlight fanning down upon the crowd, bathing them aureate.
In the beat that passes, you search for someone you shouldn’t.
The last time that you saw him, he was hunched over his father’s office desk. His eyes were bloodshot and his tired gaze dull; half-finished documents stared up at him in mocking, and a nagging ache was making home in his chest.
The week prior, you hadn’t seen much of each other. And it wasn’t as though he’d requested this space—he rarely did, rarely asked you for anything—you’d just taken it upon yourself to give it to him. Stay in control. If you proposed time apart before he did, maybe it would feel more deliberate; hurt less.
You were dead wrong.
“Look,” he sighs, this cruel, heavy sound that splices right through your chest, “I realise I’ve been neglecting our relationship a lot recently.”
“Yes,” you respond tentatively. “But you’ve been under a lot of pressure recently. I get it.”
“You shouldn’t have to.” He glances up at you through red-rimmed irises. “I… I don’t know how long it’ll be like this. With everything that’s happened… my dad dying, and me taking over the firm —”
“I’ve seen you through all of it,” you interrupt quietly, your voice cracking. “I’ve — no questions asked, I’ve done it. I get it, Rafe, you’ve got different priorities at the moment. But we’ve loved each other for so long now that I —”
“But that’s the thing,” he says then, swallowing hard, “I just don’t know if I do anymore. Not as much as I used to.”
The silence that follows feels as though it’s suffocating you. You haven’t said a word, and Rafe’s said plenty, but it’s you with the lungs that heave for loveless oxygen.
“Oh.”
Rafe’s Adam’s apple jumps again, and he breaks eye contact as unshed tears brim to the surface. “I’m sorry.”
It doesn’t make any sense.
“Maybe,” you try, grappling hard for a logical explanation, “maybe your grief’s fucking with your ability to feel anything.”
Rafe’s gaze lifts to your face again, teardrop tracks making your pretty cheeks shine. His heart aches, hard, and he finds it difficult to catch his breath. “But… I’ve dealt with it,” he says quietly. “I’ve had to.”
“How can you have?” You throw back, exasperated. “Rafe you — you haven’t had a moment to yourself since his funeral last month, you’ve holed yourself up in his office and acted like everything’s fucking okay!”
“Because it is!” He replies, his face hardening momentarily. “I’m — I’m fucking fine, alright? I just need to be alone right now.”
“Because you don’t love me anymore.”
Rafe winces. Your lower lip trembles. “Yeah. Because something’s missing… the — the fucking spark, or whatever… and right now, I can’t give you the sort of love you deserve.”
He was tired of hurting you through his abjection, he’d said. As if breaking things off wasn’t the most hurtful thing he ever did.
Thankfully, you aren’t able to spot him in the crowd; if you had, walking down the aisle would have been infinitely more difficult. Out of courtesy to you—and Brooke forcing his hand, of course—he hadn’t asked Rafe to be a groomsman either, so you were well safe from an untimely encounter at pre-wedding festivities. And from standing opposite him in front of the altar. You aren’t sure such close proximity in holy matrimony would be healthy for either of you.
It’s unfair on him though, you know it is. He has as much a right being best man as you do maid of honour — the four of you were thick as thieves once upon a time; in fact, it was you that’d introduced Kelce to Brooklyn.
It feels like so long ago when you think back on it now, being nineteen-years-old with a naïve heart and nothing to lose.
You and Rafe had seemed invincible then, high-school sweethearts that were somehow surviving college-borne distance. Forever, that’s the word that ended every drunk call or late night text; forever, and the promise of a proposal and beach-side villa.
“Shi—did you not see the sock on the door, Smith?” Rafe groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder in defeat. He’s spent the past half hour getting you into a compromising position, his rough hands awry and his wet mouth on your soft skin. The amaranthine imprint of his kisses have made home on your neck. You’re straddling him with your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he really doesn’t want to sacrifice any amount of closeness.
Kelce enters the room tentatively, his hand firmly pressed over his eyes. “Hard to miss. You two decent or what?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
You let out a peal of laughter as Rafe glowers at his roommate, his calloused palms dropping from your hips to your thighs. You push the fabric of your dress over his hands, but he kneads the flesh anyway, the skin on skin like spare oxygen.
Kelce peeks at you from between his fingers before pulling them away, an unimpressed look on his face. “C’mon, surely you’re done with her Cameron. I’ve given you guys the entire fucking day together.”
“Half an hour,” Rafe replies, his blue eyes narrowing.
“As if you need more than five minutes,” Kelce snorts, plopping down on the bed opposite Rafe’s.
“Oh fuck—” Rafe’s large hands circle your thighs and tighten, standing up and advancing toward Kelce with you in his arms, “—right off—”
“Rafe!” You gasp, suppressing another surprised laugh. “Put me down, you asshole.”
“No way, Y/N/N,” Kelce says then, raising his arms in preemptive surrender. “Your PDA’s the only reason he hasn’t given me a shiner yet.”
Rafe affirms this sentiment by pressing a chaste kiss to your temple, his eyes still narrowed as he glares at Kelce. “You’re lucky I love my girlfriend more than I do my fucking reputation.”
Kelce makes a face, keeling over and mock-gagging. “Yeah, yeah, you guys have been bethrothed since fucking pre-K, I get it. Now will you stop being so possessive and let me have a conversation with her?”
You look over your shoulder at him, untangling your arms from Rafe’s neck so he can let you down gently. When he does so, it’s with great reluctance, and he doesn’t hesitate to circle your chest so he can pull you back against him. His strong bicep is warm against your neck, solid pressure.
“What’s up, Kelcey?” You ask, surveying him with interest.
“Ghosted,” he says gloomily, falling back against his duvet, “again.”
Rafe glances down at you at the same time you look up at him, a sage, sympathetic emotion passing between you. In the weeks after your break-up, you’ll come to yearn for this emotion more than anything else — that feeling of being immune to inadequacy, of having found the love of your life so effortlessly.
“You’ve gotta stop coming on so hard, bro,” Rafe says, resting his chin on your forehead. “These sorority chicks are probably all looking for something casual.”
“He can’t help the fact that he’s a lover boy, Rafe,” you defend, frowning. “You’ve just gotta find a girl that wants what you want, Kelce.”
Kelce raises his head hopefully. “Know anyone like that, Y/N/N?”
“Well,” you pause, chewing your bottom lip thoughtfully, “I am thinking of inviting my roommate Brooklyn to the Bahamas over summer break —”
“To Rafe’s?” This piques Kelce’s interest. He props himself up onto his elbows, a hopeful grin transforming his features. “Sold.”
How times change.
Today, Kelce stands at the other end of the aisle, waiting for the same Brooklyn that was once your roommate, now his almost wife. He’s wearing an elegant black tuxedo with a lily tucked into the breast pocket, its buttery white petals shining in the sun. He looks so, unimaginably, happy. It should’ve been you and Rafe. Your heartstrings twinge.
“You’re not ready,” you murmur as you pass him on the altar, finding your place opposite his best man, Topper.
Kelce smiles at you, a little nervous, a little unshed. “Will I ever be?”
You shake your head, smiling in tandem.
The wedding procession is a brilliant display of love, and you find a way to make it about your lack thereof. Seconds blur, minutes melt into each other, and your poor mind strays to when things were far simpler. The Island Club was your date night spot, once upon a time. It’s where you’d envisioned you’d get proposed to; where you would get married one day, too. Just like this.
You’re happy for them, you swear it. It’s just a difficult emotion to maintain when the opposite comes so naturally.
Rafe doesn’t arrive until the reception itself.
He wants to believe that this is entirely accidental — he’s had a long day at the office, filled with several meetings with prospective clients. He can’t though, his wretched conscience won’t let him. He chose to go to work today, chose to schedule important meetings at the same time as Kelce’s nuptials.
He thinks he knows why this is, and isn’t sure whether he can handle the why in a satin slip and strappy heels. He wants to believe that he meant everything he said to you six months prior, but the dreadful ache in his chest crescendos in mocking every time he tries this.
He’s made a mistake. He won’t admit this if it killed him. But he knows, deep down, that something isn’t right about all of this.
If he really didn’t love you anymore, if that fucking spark was missing, there shouldn’t have been anything to move on from—the ship should have already departed. But he’s struggling, hard, and his thoughts juxtapose his actions. Despite telling you that he needs to be alone for the time being, you remain unmoored in his mind, rocking back and forth but never sinking.
He’s done his fair share of fucking up over the past few months. Got into something else too quickly, tried that no contact thing and failed miserably. There’s no going back after everything that’s happened. And yet…
“Hello?” He greets you like it’s a question; like greeting you isn’t second nature anymore. Your stomach turns.
When you respond, your voice comes out jagged, pained. “Look. I get that you’re doing this ‘no contact’ thing, or whatever, but Sarah told me something pretty fucked up and I think you owe me an explanation.” Your voice is far weaker.
Rafe winces, a familiar ache pulling through his chest. “If this is about Elle —”
“It’s been a month, Rafe. You may as well have cheated.”
…that fucking hug.
After you’d confronted him about shamelessly flirting with Sarah’s friend, Elle—in front of Sarah, no less, who told you the second it happened—he’d asked to meet up in person and explain himself.
You weren’t quite sure what to make of it all, which is probably why you’d foolishly agreed to hear him out. Ward had hired Elle as an intern before his death; she’d been around a while, long enough for an affair.
It shifted bile into your throat.
And when you’d met him, the exact opposite of what you’d hoped had happened. He’d had the gall to tell you that he thinks something’s there, that he feels that bullshit spark that he swore was missing in your relationship.
What were you meant to say?
But then he’d apologised, recognised it was too soon, begged to stay friends. Friends—like a platonic relationship is in any way gift receipt redeemable. And ironically, hearing him out wasn’t even your biggest mistake, it was that wretched hug goodbye that you’d permitted you get.
It was as though that hug held everything unsaid. Your figure had moulded against his quite perfectly, and why wouldn’t it? He’s the only romantic embrace you’d known since you were a teenager.
And when you’d finally pulled away, separated the pieces of your heart that were finally greeting his again, you hadn’t realised that he’d think about that hug for weeks gone by, just like you.
All the way up until Christmas, which occurred two months after your sudden break-up.
It was the last time you saw him under the pretence of amicability, when you came by Tannyhill to drop off presents and see his family. Mostly him. It felt pathetic, even then; for all you knew, Elle was on his mind and you were somewhere insignificant.
Rafe’s pretty sure he’s fucking doomed.
Your laugh reverberates through Tannyhill like a siren song, and he’s pretty sure he’ll never not recognise the sound of it. It’s as though every bone in his body vibrates in tune to it—so unabashed, so freeing. Far more painful now than it used to be.
You’ve become so many Taylor Swift songs and none of them end happy.
He follows your sweet timbre to the hallway before he can help himself. Once upon a time—God, it feels so long ago now—he’d have been the first person you’d have texted before dropping by the house. Instead, as he stands paralysed at the foot of the stairs, it’s Sarah who’s hugging you, who gets to hold you in her arms.
Luckily for him, your eyes are closed in the embrace, and he’s afforded a second to recalibrate after taking you in. He’s known that you’re beautiful like his first memory on Earth, but that doesn’t mean your proximity leaves him any less winded. You’re fresh-faced with limbs that have an untouchable quality to them; you aren’t his to mark anymore, no longer his to ruin.
He can’t remember the last time he kissed you. He wants to remember so fucking bad. You’re slipping through his calloused fingers and fragments of you are all he has.
“You didn’t have to get us anything!” Sarah exclaims, pulling away faux-disprovingly.
“Hey, don’t do that, of course I did.” Your arms fall back to your side, and you open your eyes in tandem. When they flit past Sarah’s face and find Rafe’s instead, it feels as though someone has tipped ice-cold water down your singlet. A pause. “You’re family.”
Sarah notes the change in your tone with a frown, turning to look over her shoulder. “Oh,” she says, her expression hardening. “Sorry, Y/N/N. I didn’t know he was home.”
You swallow. “It’s no big,” you reply, forcing yourself to look back at her. “We’re alright, really. But I should go, I have a few more presents to drop off.”
Sarah frowns harder. “You sure you don’t want to stay a bit? I know Rose’d love to see you, we’ve all really missed having you around —”
“I’m sure,” you interrupt, handing her the bag of presents you’ve wrapped. “I’ll send her a text, okay? And listen,” you pause, your expression softening a little, “I know this holiday season’s going to be hard without your dad, and I want you to know that I’m here for you, whenever you need me.”
Sarah’s eyes well with tears. “It’s going to be hard without you too, Y/N,” she murmurs. “You’re my sister.”
Your features sadden in tandem, and you give her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And I always will be. You know that.”
“You should come to Christmas, then,” she says hopefully.
“I —” you falter as your voice cracks, grimacing slightly, “— I’m sorry. I don’t think I can.”
When you turn around, something in Rafe’s chest cracks too. He’s still hanging on to that expression-softening catalyst from a moment prior, yearning hard for the feeling of being on the receiving end of your love.
“Why the fuck,” Sarah fumes, rounding on him once you’re out of earshot, “do you have to ruin everything you touch?”
Rafe doesn’t even have it in him to wince. “I don’t know,” he responds quietly, with an honesty that aches. “If I did, maybe I’d have found a way to fix it.”
Sarah takes pause. Slight disbelief transforms her features. “You have to still love her. How can’t you?”
“I don’t know, alright?” Rafe runs his hand through his hair slovenly. “I just — I’m not happy anymore. It’s not fucking there… I don’t know if it’ll ever come back.”
“What isn’t?”
“The… the spark.”
“Bullshit,” Sarah spits out, accusatory. “The ‘spark’ is fucking bullshit, Rafe. You’re telling me you’ve felt it the entire time you’ve known her? You’re telling me this doesn’t have anything to do with dad’s death?”
Rafe swallows thickly, discomfort coating his throat. “I don’t, alright? All I know is I can’t give her what she needs right now; I don’t know if I ever will.”
To this day, he doesn’t know about your detour that evening — how instead of driving home, you took a left to the look-out where you shared your first kiss. He doesn’t know that the waves crashing ashore bore witness to your heartbreak; that sunset orange painted your tear-streaked cheeks a gentler amber. Caressed them, subdued them, where he no longer could. He doesn’t know you agonised over how much his hair had grown in your absence, the subtle stubble on his jaw, the stark outline of his biceps.
The him that’s foreign to you, now; the him that’s Elle’s and not yours.
At twenty-four years old, Rafe Cameron doesn’t know fucking anything.
Of course, once he does eventually recognise that his ‘something there’ with Elle is a rebound, it’s too late to entertain returning to you with his tail between his legs.
He can’t. Not after everything he’s put you through in the past. So he allows regret to caulk his limbs and bitterness to coat his insides, and Rafe Cameron does what he does best — pushes it down and ignores it.
Which brings him here, a non-attendee to his best friend’s wedding and an hour late to his reception.
He sidles into the venue through a pair of double doors, and the first thing he notices is the dimmed sconces and muted fairy lights. It’s the first thing, because perplexingly, the crowd is hard to discern but you glow anyway. A spotlight illuminates the centre of the room where Brooklyn and Kelce share their first dance, but they don’t draw his gaze, your beautiful features do.
Of course you do, in your strappy cowl neck slip. There’s less periwinkle fabric than he’d anticipated, more exposed limbs, and Rafe feels like he’s run a fucking marathon as he takes you in. And your pretty eyes and glossy lips cascade into a bare neck; soft skin that’s forgotten his rough touch, his bruising kisses.
It’s momentary lust that his regret promptly squashes. He can’t think those thoughts about you anymore, even if they’re almost second nature. Even if he’s spent more tangible years of his life as your boyfriend than he has a fucking stranger.
That’s what you guys are meant to be right now: strangers. His stomach coils. His tired eyes search for the open bar on instinct.
Once he’s acquired a whiskey neat and a glass of champagne, he pulls through the crowd and makes toward your figure.
You aren’t as lucky as he is to mentally prepare for a reunion. When he holds out the shimmering flute and prompts your gaze toward him, there’s a split-second of slack-jawed diffidence before you find your common sense.
God, you wish he wasn’t so easy to stare at.
He’s wearing an expression that isn’t yours anymore, with his thick brows furrowed and lips slightly parted. Yearning, but he can’t be. His blue eyes make your heart leap. Your gaze lifts before it falls, taking in his damp hair, his larger than ever frame. Both feel unfamiliar; he’s shed the skin and aureate curls your fingers once traced. Same notes of patchouli on his neck, though you note the absence of the silver chain you once bought him for Christmas.
Does he still have it, somewhere, hidden in a shoebox under his bed? (His hand is so close to your chest, it feels like you’re dying.) Is it as painful for him to see you like this after months and months of no contact?
Can’t be. Shouldn’t be. The ache may linger, agonisingly, but you’re stronger now than you were when he first ended things.
“Oh,” is all you can muster, accepting the flute of champagne. When your fingers brush, you reprimand the jolt of static. Lust may be hard to shake, but you resolve to let logic prevail. “Thanks.”
Rafe feels it too, harder, more unbearable. “Don’t mention it.”
You break eye contact to look out into the crowd, though it’s a struggle finding anything to focus on. “When’d you arrive?”
“Five minutes ago,” he admits, staring at your side profile for a second longer than he probably should. He analyses the glittery stuff on your cheekbones—highlighter?—for traces of a familiar feeling. “Work shit.”
“Ah,” you reply, raising your eyebrows at him. “Some things never change, huh?”
Rafe winces. “Look, Y/N, I —”
“I’m kidding, Rafe, relax,” you interrupt, sending him a small smile. It makes his stomach turn. “It’s all going well, I hope?”
“It is, yeah,” he responds, smiling in tandem. “Ish. Still doing a fuck tonne of late nights and weekends.”
“Bummer.” It feels strange, making small talk in this way. Strange, though not particularly as awful as you’d predicted. “How’re Rose and your sisters?”
“Yeah, they’re good,” they miss you, “Sarah’s going to UCLA in the fall.”
You nod. “She told me.”
Something in Rafe’s chest drops. He turns to you, his piercing gaze making your skin burn. “I didn’t realise you guys kept in touch.”
“We’ve always been really close. You know that.”
Because of me. “Right.” His eyes fall to your throat as you take another pull of champagne, smooth and unblemished and painfully foreign. “I’m glad.”
You turn to him then, an unreadable expression on your face. “Me too.”
A beat. The pair of you stare at each as the surroundings buzz into static.
“Listen, Rafe, I —”
“Y/N, I’ve been —”
You falter first, scrunching up your face abashedly. “Sorry. You go.”
“I…” Rafe pauses, running his calloused palm through his hair, “I guess I just want to apologise. For everything.”
Your eyes widen, and you turn away from him abruptly. “Rafe, I don’t know if now is the best time to have this conversation.”
“Shit, I know. I know I’m about five months too late and don’t deserve to be heard out.”
“Well,” you pause, chewing on your bottom lip apprehensively. Your voice quietens. “Maybe not at a wedding.”
Or ever. You tip back the rest of your champagne just as the slow dance fades out, breaking away from him. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”
Rafe fucking hopes so. He needs a clean slate if it’ll kill him. He nods reluctantly, watching you disappear into the crowd in front of him. The ache in his chest crescendos as the physical distance swallows you completely.
“We love you,” Brooklyn mouthes, blowing you a kiss through the open window. The limousine she’s in stretches forward with jet-black grandiosity, its ignition blaring alive as you catch it in mid-air.
When you blow one back, Kelce peeks over her shoulder and sends you a wink. The pair of them wave to the wedding-goers surrounding you before the vehicle pulls forward, leaving you in its dust. You watch them exit the Island Club gates, and a sense of bittersweet melancholia finds home in your chest.
That should’ve been you. You turn around as the crowd begins to disperse and find yourself face to face with Rafe once again.
“Oh,” you say, looking up at him in surprise. When your expression relaxes—in recognition—his chest pulls in tandem. “They’re sweet, huh?”
Us; that should’ve been us. Rafe nods, smiling wistfully. “Can you believe you’re the one that set them up?”
“At your holiday house,” you return, smiling in tandem. “This was a two-person wing man job.”
“Nah. You were the one that saw their potential.” A pause. “You’ve always been really good at that.”
Your brow furrows. “At setting people up?”
“At seeing their potential,” Rafe corrects. An unreadable emotion crosses his blue irises. “Even when they don’t deserve it.”
Your expression falters. You aren’t sure what to say to this, so you don’t say anything at all.
“Listen,” Rafe tries again, scratching the back of his neck, “d’you need a ride?”
“Well…”
You hesitate, looking over his shoulder for your parents. When you spot them, they’re in avid conversation with some family friends; they look extremely comfortable, like they’re going to be dawdling until God knows when.
You’re searching for justification even though he doesn’t deserve it. After all the pain he’s caused you, your wretched heart still yearns for more.
Fucking sadist.
“Actually, yeah,” you finish after a beat, bringing your gaze back to him. “That’d be great, thank you.”
His shoulders relax. “Yeah, of course. You have all your things?”
“Uh huh.”
“This way.”
You allow him to guide you to his pick-up trunk, pretend that you didn’t discern it right away. Besides, you were meant to have forgotten the location of his unofficial ‘official’ parking spot. So you follow him toward it, deny the familiarity of its number plate, and act like every dent and wretched scratch isn’t a piece of your heart.
“Shit—ow!” You curse, hurtling forward as you stall, again. “This is fucking impossible, Rafe. I quit.”
Rafe grins perplexedly, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “Baby,” he placates, “if Top can learn to drive manual, anyone can.”
You make a frustrated noise, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not me, clearly.”
Rafe lets out a laugh, unbuckling your seatbelt so he can pull you into his lap. “C’mere.”
When he does so—with entirely too much ease—he pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb so he can guide your lips against his. It’s an unhurried kiss, a sure press of emotion, as though he’s rousing the embers that live within your ribcage.
He has this funny way of leaving you out of breath no matter how chaste the embrace. You break away reluctantly, raising your eyebrows at him. “So is this the reward system you used when you were teaching him to drive, hot-shot?”
Rafe makes a face, dipping his head to sponge a kiss to your neck. “Why? You jealous?”
“Never,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair. “You wouldn’t dream of leaving me for someone else, Rafe Cameron. The Figure Eight wouldn’t forgive you if you did.”
“I wouldn’t forgive myself if I did.” Another teeth-scraping kiss. “I’d be crazy to let you go. I’ve been in love with you since we were freshman.”
He doesn’t open the passenger’s side door for you after unlocking his pick-up truck. That isn’t his place anymore.
He wants to, anyway. You want him to, badly. This revelation passes unsaid between the two of you as you climb into the seat yourself, unscathed by chivalry.
Once you’re buckled in, your gaze lifts to the new air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror. “Huh,” you say, flicking it absently, “you replaced it.”
He wants to say, you left me no choice. He wants to say, old spice smells like you. “Oh yeah,” he replies instead, clearing his throat. “Rose got me it.”
“It’s nice.”
“Thanks.”
He shifts into reverse and backs out of the park, and there’s a split second where he almost places his hand on your headrest. He can’t do that anymore. Too close; not close enough. You notice it too. An ache passes from his heart to yours.
“Are you going to take any time off over summer break?” You ask, keeping your gaze on the road ahead.
Rafe pulls out onto the main road before turning to you and responding, “I wasn’t planning on it, but I think I might need some.”
“I think you might need some too,” you agree, sending him a fleeting smile. “Bahamas?”
You don’t expect the tears in his eyes that follow. You straighten abruptly, your eyebrows pulling together. “Sorry, I didn’t mean —”
“No—shit, I just—” he falters as his voice cracks, clearing his throat again, “I don’t think I could go back there any time soon. Too many memories.”
Your expression softens. “Your dad, of course. I get it. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry about.” He takes in a jagged breath. “Shit, I’m the one that should be apologising. For everything.”
“Rafe —”
“No, listen…”
He pauses as he turns left onto your street, pulling onto the side of the road as soon as he can. He’s still a good mile away from your house, but it feels an injustice to keep you waiting for an explanation. When he turns and angles his body toward you, there’s a brokenness on his face that makes your miserable heart falter.
“I’m… I’m so sorry for everything I put you through after I broke up with you. Even if that was what I needed at the time, even if it was the right decision, I shouldn’t have been so fucking heartless and I regret not reaching out to you more often.”
You swallow thickly. He takes your silence as encouragement to keep going.
“You deserved better than the way I treated you… you’ve always deserved better than me. I didn’t know how to deal with all of my grief and I pushed you away in the process. It was… fuck, it was so selfish of me, and I’m sorry. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t hate myself for it.”
He’s taken all of the oxygen in the car, and you find yourself struggling for air. You turn to him, every drunken rationalisation manifest. “Thank you,” you whisper, “for saying that.”
“And listen, the Elle thing —”
Too much. “Rafe,” you interrupt, swallowing again. “Stop. It’s fine. I accept your apology.”
Rafe frowns, the furrow in his brow painfully evident. “Yeah? Because… because I’d understand if you didn’t.”
“Yeah,” you affirm, turning away from him. “Besides, it’s ancient history. I forgave you a long time ago in my head.”
“You did?” Rafe’s asks, searching your features in earnest. “Why?”
The champagne you’ve consumed swirls uncomfortably in your stomach. “I had to,” you say quietly. “It was the only way I was going to be able to move on from the situation.”
Rafe’s stomach drops. “Which you have.”
“Which I have.”
The smokescreen between you smothers any semblance of hope you might’ve shared. He nods, turning on the ignition once again. “I hope that means you’re happy, Y/N.”
“It does,” you reply, “I am.”
“Good.” It doesn’t feel good at all. “Maybe this means we can be friends.”
You turn to him again, raising your eyebrows. “Friends?”
“Like we were before,” he affirms, putting the car into drive. His fingers brush the bare skin of your thigh near the gearshift. A very unfriend-like jolt of static shoots into your chest. “I… I don’t know. Sometimes I think I just miss my best friend.”
Your heart sighs. “Me too.”
“Friends then.”
“Yeah,” you reply, sending him a small smile. “Friends.”
You haven’t been to Shake Shack since you broke up with Rafe. You didn’t even realise you’d evaded it so long; perhaps it was a subconscious thing, too many painful memories to bear.
You remember when it first opened up in the Banks, this egalitarian refuge nestled between the Cut and Figure Eight.
Rafe Cameron remembers too, remembers bringing you here on your very first date. Roguish at fourteen with endless charm and a handsome face, he had far less creases etched onto his forehead then; far less familial expectations to deal with.
If only you knew he’s evaded it too. When he pulls into the carpark, the aforementioned date comes forth in fragments.
When memories lie dormant so long in one’s head, they tend to lose the stitches that hold them together. Nervousness, excitement, cherry coke and a lilac singlet. The strange feeling of forever before either of you could place it. He doesn’t remember any of your conversation, nor how long the date lasted, but he remembers the cloudless sky, the flutter of new love in his stomach.
The pair of you share a look before exiting his pick-up truck. A look that says: uh oh, and insinuates far more than that.
“So how’s work going, anyway?” Rafe asks, shoving his hands into his front pockets. He’s a beat behind you head toward the entrance, and you can feel your neck burn where his eyes remained trained on you.
“Yeah, alright, same old,” you say, sending him a fleeting smile over your shoulder. His blue irises are dappled golden in sunlight, and their brilliance unsteadies you, the eye-contact like a firestarter. You clear your throat. “Sam quit.”
Rafe’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”
“Not kidding,” you shake your head, “he ended things with Peyton and booked a Contiki in South East Asia.”
“Shiiiiiit,” Rafe wolf whistles, shaking his head in tandem. “Is he going through some kind of quarter life crisis?”
You shrug. “Who would let someone like Peyton go, huh?”
Rafe resists the urge to wince. He can think of one person in particular who threw away something far more special. He clears his throat significantly, regret like molasses coating the sides of his windpipe. “Yeah. How’s she doing with it all?”
“Oh you know Peyton, she’s the queen of acting unbothered,” you reply, sounding reproachful. “Even when she’s heartbroken, she refuses to tell me about it.”
Rafe frowns. “Fuck that.”
“Yeah?” You send him a wayward glance, raising your eyebrows knowingly. “Cause to me, it sounds like someone else I used to know.”
There’s a pause as he meets your gaze, a frightening wistfulness passing between you. It lingers.
“Right.” You’re at the entrance to Shake Shack now, and Rafe grapples for purchase on the one thing he can control—friends. He pulls open the door and beckons you forward, “So. Is today the day you branch out and order something new, Y/N?”
When you pass by him, a tendril-like brush of shoulder on chest, the buttery scent of your vanilla perfume lingers. A lot about you does, a lot more than he’d care to admit.
Rafe’s wretched heart cycles between the old and new you like it’s trying to make them both fit within its chambers.
“Don’t think I have a choice,” you reply, sending him a smile over your shoulder. “They’ve completely revamped their menu since the last time we were here.”
Rafe raises his eyebrows at you. “They have?” You checked?
“Uh huh,” you reply, nodding. “I was going to make a reservation here for our anniversary way back when.” You clear your throat. “When I went on their website to do so, I realised that their menu was totally different.”
You leave out the part where you’d stopped by soon after, asked—no, begged—the manager to serve you the originals when you came. You know, when old time’s sake was a sacred concept. When that sweet, lovesick version of you still existed.
“Oh shit,” Rafe says. Though it’s subtle, he catches the smidge of diffidence in your voice, like the ghost of relationship’s past rearing its ugly head. You checked, for him, and you’re so nonchalant about it. Like it may have mattered then, but right now it matters far less.
He feels an awful twinge in his chest. He adds, “That sucks.” He isn’t sure whether he’s referring to the change in menu or the change in your heart’s purpose.
“I know.”
“I was looking forward to ordering the usual.”
“Me too.” You shrug. “We’re just going to have to find a new usual, I guess.”
What you mean is, make new memories that’ll replace the old ones. What you mean is, erase the nostalgia being here brings.
Also, though you’d never willingly admit it, start anew.
Rafe nods, stepping forward and glancing up at the menu. Though it’s different to the one he remembers from his youth, the interior of the diner is comfortingly familiar — same ugly yellow track lights, same checkered linoleum underfoot. Same fingerprint-smudged counter and broken drinks machine, same uniform on the workers, same greasy smell permeating.
And the same booth you were partial to nestled in one corner, it’s retro cushion covers faded as ever.
The menu, and the girl beside him. The only two things that feel different.
“Hm.” You frown, deliberating over the menu. “I’m thinking the ‘classic’. You want to split some curly fries?”
Rafe raises his eyebrows, his blue eyes full of mirth. “So the one that’s exactly your old order, minus the pickles. Got it.”
“Yes,” you decide. “Except I’ll ask them to add pickles.”
“Of course you will.” Rafe grins. “I’ll get the same.”
You gasp, faux-scandalised. “Rafe Cameron eating pickles? Now I’ve seen everything.”
Rafe raises his eyebrows. “How d’you know I’m not just ordering it to pawn ‘em off to you?”
You balk. “I don’t, I guess.”
“And yes, to the curly fries,” he adds, quick to change the subject. The bashfulness on your features dissipates, but the tension in the room weighs ever-present.
You nod, sliding your wallet out of your back-pocket. “Should we just split the bill, then?”
“No way,” Rafe says, clasping your wrist to hold it in place. Your pulse feels funny. “I got it.”
“Rafe.” You frown, shaking your head. “Look, it really isn’t a big deal —”
It is to me. “Exactly,” he interrupts. “Which is why I got it.”
Maybe you should argue some more, insist on paying until he gives in. But you don’t. Between the pulse-jolting closeness and mocking sense of nostalgia, you aren’t sure you have it in you to retaliate.
Though in an act of rebellion, you avoid your usual booth. Once you’re seated at a new table and separated by your burgers, you re-enter this stupid friendship thing you’ve adopted. The one that boasts no-strings like the red one isn’t obvious.
“So,” you say, popping a curly fry in your mouth. “You remember Maya, right?”
Rafe makes a face. “That psycho roommate you had in senior year? Yeah, pretty hard to forget.”
“Well, she hit me up a month ago to let me know she’d be in the Banks to see her boyfriend.” At his audible gasp, you nod significantly. “I know. Asked if I wanted to catch up while she was here.”
Rafe wolf whistles in amusement. “No fucking way. After the Hell she put you through?”
“I fucking know,” you reply, grimacing in disdain.
Rafe raises his eyebrows, swallowing down a handful of curly fries. “Tell me you said no.”
You raise yours in tandem. “What do you think, casanova?”
“Y/N!” He groans, shaking his head. “Why do you put yourself through this shit?”
You frown, reaching for your soda and sipping stubbornly. Condensation rolls down your palm, the soft skin shining. “C’mon! It was useful, I swear. I got the intel on Maya and her mystery OBX man.”
Rafe leans forward in interest, taking a pull of his soda too. “Go on then.”
“God, I’ve been sitting on this information for ages,” you say, your pretty eyes full of excitement. Rafe’s heart leaps. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out, but we weren’t talking and you were avoiding me and I didn’t know whether I should break no contact.”
It deflates just as quickly, sinking into his stomach like deadweight. “I wasn’t… I don’t know, I thought it’d be best if I kept my distance.” He sighs, sitting back and raking his fingers through his hair. “Clearly that was a mistake. I haven’t been this relaxed in fucking ages.”
You smile small. “Yeah. This is nice.”
“Nice.”
“Anyway,” you clear your throat, this sticky, molasses-like something rising from your chest, “it’s Dylan. Like Dylan fucking Young that had a crush on me in freshman year.”
“Fuck off, seriously?” Rafe replies, mirth evident on his features. “Not kidding, think it’d be grounds for a restraining order if she ever found that out.”
“That’s what I’m saying!” You exclaim, raising your eyebrows significantly. “You promise to take this to your grave, Cameron?”
Rafe nods, faux-somber, extending his pinky toward you. “He won’t hear it from me, Y/L/N.”
When your fingers entwine, you wonder whether he feels it too. It’s a jolt of static that leaves your skin warm and your insides funny, and you wonder whether the effect it has on you is endearing or pathetic.
The latter, you conclude. The red string of fate disagrees.
“Good,” you say, retrieving your hand. “Oh, and,” you take a generous bite of your burger, “did you hear that Taylor’s moving to Texas?”
“I did, actually,” Rafe replies. “From Top, funnily enough.”
You frown. “He’s still pining, huh?”
“Unfortunately.” He pulls apart his burger to pick out the green pickles, placing them onto your plate before re-assembling. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. In the offensive, fluorescent lighting, they shine up at you in mocking. “Anyway, I should probably learn to get used to it. I’m moving into Kelce’s room now that he’s happily wed.”
Your jaw slackens in surprise. “You’re moving in with Topper?”
Rafe grins. “I know. Who would’ve thought, huh?”
“But,” you pause, popping another curly fry into your mouth, “why?”
“Needed to get out of Tannyhill, I guess.” He falters, swallowing down the bile-like rise of emotion from his chest. “Too many memories.”
Your expression softens. “That makes sense.”
“Besides, Sarah’s starting college soon, and Wheeze’s off at boarding school for the majority of the year anyway.” He shrugs. “And Rose… well, she’s at the Bahamas house more than she is in the OBX.”
“Too many memories,” you repeat, frowning sadly.
“Yeah. I guess.”
There’s silence then, the comfortable kind. An emotion passes between you that feels both familiar and new at the same time.
It matters less when you finally finish, what you speak about, whether you’ll meet again. All you know is, something feels different now, as though there’s embers that this reunion has reignited in your ribcage. Dormant though they had once been, you’d always hoped that the renewed hope would set them aflame.
The next day, you wake up to a text from Rafe.
thank you for yesterday. It was really nice.
You don’t have it in you to reply; Rafe doesn’t mind. He knows you feel the same way.
It’s a few weeks before you see him again, at a farewell party for Brooklyn and Kelce.
Prior to embarking on their honeymoon, they were shifting their lives to Chicago; laying down the foundations of stability so they could return to a clean slate.
It upsets you to no end. You’d always assumed that her marriage to Kelce would guarantee that she settles down in the Banks.
Rafe Cameron must remember this, the way he does everything else. He hands you a beer and clinks his own against it, beads of condensation sliding over his calloused hand.
“Huh,” he murmurs, shaking his head in faux-disappoint, “so much for staying here and ruling the Eight with an iron fist.”
“That’s what I’m saying!” You exclaim, taking a generous pull of beer. Rafe’s gaze falls to the bare column of your throat, and he temporarily loses his bearings. “Does loyalty mean absolutely nothing around here?”
Rafe grins appreciatively. “They’re bound to come back, you know.”
“And how can you be so sure?”
“Because,” Rafe pauses, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “we were all cursed by the hometown witch when we were babies.”
You let out a peal of laughter. “Is that why I came back here after college?”
It isn’t lost on you that Rafe is standing far closer to you than he should. His spicy, cedar-wood cologne presses over your figure in waves. He bows his head to eye level, still grinning his mirth, “It’s why we all did. It’s also why they aren’t going to last more than a year in Chicago, I’m calling it now.”
“Who isn’t going to last more than a year in Chicago?” Comes Brooklyn’s voice from behind him, pulling the pair of you from your reverie.
He breaks away and turns to find her standing behind him, her eyebrows raised accusatorially at your closeness.
You smile guiltily at her, raising your arms in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t deny it either!” Brooklyn reproaches, faux-scandalised. She sends Rafe a playful glare, reaching for your arm and pulling you away. “I’m rescuing her from your bad influence, Cameron.”
Rafe nods sagely, taking a sip of his beer. “I think that’s wise, Astor—” he balks, shaking his head, “—sorry, Smith. Shit, Brooklyn Smith, huh? Guess I can’t do that last name thing ‘round here anymore, can I?”
“Not with us,” she replies, turning the pair of you around. She sends you the ghost of a wink before adding, “Y/N’s fair game, though. You know she’d rather die than take a guy’s last name.”
Something in Rafe’s chest deflates. “Yeah?”
You frown at him over your shoulder, mildly bewildered. “You knew that, Cameron.”
Maybe I thought I was different. “True.” He raises his beer bottle in acknowledgement. “Besides, Y/L/N suits you too much.”
Not as much as Cameron would have, once upon a time. You nod approvingly, the twinge in your heart conveying the exact opposite. “Doesn’t it just?”
Brooklyn steers you to the kitchen under the pretence of grabbing a drink, her true intentions becoming obvious when Kelce pivots into earshot on his barstool.
“So?” She prods, rounding on you once you’ve halted. “What’s the deal?”
“Deal?” You echo, feigning confusion. “What deal?”
“Don’t do that,” she replies, narrowing her eyes accusatorially. “Are you guys seeing each other again?”
You swallow. Your gaze darts to a helpless-looking Kelce. “Why? Has he said something?”
“That’s the thing,” Kelce mutters, shaking his head thoughtfully. “He hasn’t. But he’s… different.”
You frown. “Different how?”
“I don’t know… chiller. Happier. Like he was before Ward passed away.”
“Of course he is,” Brooklyn snorts, not buying it for a second. “He’s finally being absolved of all his guilt!”
“Brooklyn…” you sigh.
“What? It’s true!” She asserts, crossing her arms across her chest. “He’s… listen, Y/N, whatever you think this is, you need to snap out of it. He’s proved time and time again that he doesn’t have the emotional capability to deal with his shit, and you’ve been made collateral too many times to forgive him this quick.”
“Quick?” Your chest feels on fire. Isn’t seven months of torture enough exoneration?
“C’mon baby, you’ve gotta cut him some slack,” Kelce assuages, gentle but firm. “He fucked up, sure, but he also lost his dad, remember?”
“Grieving or not, he shouldn’t have pushed her away.”
“Granted, but we’ll never know exactly how he was feeling —”
“We shouldn’t have to, you just don’t do that to someone you love —”
“I’m still here, you know,” you interrupt quietly, frowning. “That someone that Rafe doesn’t love.”
A pause. Its silence that’s distilled in the overhead lighting, the scene beneath it awash in dim regret.
Brooklyn’s features are softer when she breaks the silence. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just… I worry about you.”
You know she does; it isn’t her fault. She’s the one that slept over for four weeks straight post break-up, forced food down your throat and wiped away all your tears.
“Don’t apologise, Brooke, I get it,” you say, sending her a small smile. “But I’m fine, I promise. This isn’t even… this feels different.”
“Different how?”
“Like… you know that saying: ‘You’ll never find the same person twice, not even in the same person’? That’s how this feels. We haven’t fallen back into old habits.”
Brooklyn regards this for a moment, surveying your features carefully. “But you’ve been hanging out?”
“Only once,” you reply honestly. “Sent a few texts back and forth, that’s all. If… if anything were to happen, it’d be like a new relationship, not like restarting the old one. You know?”
“I do.”
Kelce smiles. “That’s… shit, that makes sense.” There’s a wistfulness to his voice. “That’s why I couldn’t figure out what it reminds me of, this different him that’s chilled and happy.”
You furrow your brow. “Hm?”
“It’s freshman year him all over again,” he explains. “You know… when the two of you got close the first time ‘round.”
“Oh.” Your heart soars. “Square one, huh?”
Kelce shrugs, sharing a meaningful look with Brooklyn. “Square one I guess.”
You’re about to respond when Rafe’s figure pulls your gaze, his crossed arms and broad shoulders blocking the kitchen entrance. He’s wearing a handsome expression and his hair is perfectly unkempt, the heady scent of his cologne juxtaposing his lack of proximity.
Sometimes, life is unfair. Your ex-boyfriend, now new friend, eliciting such un-platonic thoughts is one of those instances.
And it isn’t as though you’ve given Rafe much of a break, his blue eyes caught on your figure like a moth to a flame. You aren’t wearing a dress he recognises, which is both a delightful and agonising revelation.
Delightful, because it reveals bare expanses of skin that make his wretched hands itch in longing. Agonising, because it’s a reminder of the seven long months that he’s had to spend grappling with your absence.
Having a smile as pretty as yours is extremely unfair, all things considered. And eyes. Soft skin. He needs to stop staring before he does something stupid.
“Perfect,” he announces brusquely, “are we hosting our intervention now?”
He looks at you expectantly. You raise your eyebrows. “You know,” he adds, “the one where we beg them to stay in the Banks?”
“Hey!” Brooklyn exclaims, her green eyes full of mirth. “What d’you mean stay in the Banks? Newsflash, I’m not even from here.”
“You’re not from Chicago either, Ast-Smithy,” he returns significantly, sending her a meaningful glance. “Besides, you married into a Figure Eight family. You are very officially one of us now.”
“Not for long!” Brooklyn sings, sending you a wink.
“C’mon, Smith,” Rafe tries, turning to Kelce and feigning disappointment. “What happened to our sacred pact?”
“We were eight, Cameron.”
“And already privy to the tragedy of small-town life,” Rafe sighs faux-dramatically, nodding in agreement. “I’m bitter, alright? I thought I’d be the first one to get out of here.”
He glances over at you fleetingly as he says this. We’d be the first ones, his heart corrects in vain.
“As if,” you scoff, raising your eyebrows. “Mr Cameron fucking Development leave this place before me? No chance.”
Rafe grins roguishly, his blue eyes shining with amusement. “You’re all talk, Y/L/N. We both know it.” He sends Kelce and Brooklyn a meaningful glance. “We all are.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re going to be here all fucking night if we keep arguing about this,” Brooklyn decides, patting Kelce’s thigh to prompt him to stand. “C’mon, baby, we should probably get back to mingling.”
“You know,” she adds, narrowing her eyes playfully. “‘Cause it’s the last time we’ll see some of these people.”
You let out a laugh, shaking your head bemusedly. Any retaliation on Rafe’s tongue fails at the timbre of it.
Once they’re out of sight, you turn to him, adopting a faux-somber look. “If we are truly doomed to a life in the Eight, will you promise me something?”
He’s still grappling with the fact that he’s a man starved of your beautiful laugh, now reborn. “Go on.”
“Should you find me yelling at Island Club employees about flower arrangements or charcuterie boards, shoot me.”
Rafe laughs, and it reverberates through your bones warmly. “And suffer alone? No way. I’ll meet you in the middle. Lobotomy?”
“No thoughts in my brain? So generous,” you tease. “Alright. It’s a deal.”
Rafe clinks his beer bottle against yours in confirmation, taking a generous pull of the bubbly liquid. “Can we trade promises?” He asks.
You take a sip in tandem, maintaining eye contact as you do so. There’s tension in the air, that familiar-new feeling manifest, and it’s no longer frightening, but rather a comforting embrace.
You marvel in it. Breaking free feels fruitless. “Yes.”
“If you make a plan to settle elsewhere, will you tell me?”
“Of course I will.” A pause. “Although, I think you’re right. I don’t think any of us are truly capable of leaving permanently.”
“If anyone is though, it’s you,” he says, so matter-of-factly, like he actually believes it. “I mean… you’re the only one who had the balls to go to a college out of state. The rest of us just accepted a cushy offer at UNC.”
“Doesn’t matter,” you dismiss. “I was back here so often I barely left.”
Rafe raises his eyebrows. “Only because you had a reason to come back.” You still do, if you’ll take me.
I still do, if you’ll take me. “True.” You frown, thinking on this for a moment. “Even so… I don’t know. Maybe it’s that hometown curse talking, but I wouldn’t want to raise my kids anywhere else in the States.”
Rafe’s gaze steadies, pulsing through you in waves. “I get that. We had a pretty sweet childhood, all things considered.”
You make a face. “Like, I don’t think I can deal with this iPad kid epidemic. Least we were sheltered from all that crap, you know?”
“Yeah,” Rafe replies, raising his eyebrows significantly. “Even if there were plenty of other things to jade us with.”
“Shit, I know,” you respond, laughing bemusedly. “See, only people from the Eight know how political beach clean ups can get.”
Rafe chuckles in tandem, taking another sip of his beer. “God, our lives are fucking ridiculous.”
You raise your bottle in agreement. A comfortable silence falls between you.
After pause, Rafe speaks up again. “You know,” he says quietly, an unnameable emotion flickering across his blue irises. “I don’t even think it’s everyone in the Eight.”
You balk. “Hm?”
“The whole, knowing each other thing,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “You’ve always understood me better than anyone else.”
Your traitorous heart leaps, and you force yourself to ignore it. Actions have always spoken louder than words, and you decide now’s as good a time as any to confront him about this.
It’s time to be brave, you decide. You say, “I find that hard to believe.”
“Why?”
“Elle.”
Rafe’s miserable heart falters, penitence like a lump in his throat. He’s been preparing for this accusation since your very first reunion, but it still doesn’t feel like enough; he’s a coward trembling at the frontlines, anyway.
“I’ve… we’ve… my therapist and I have talked about that situation at length.”
You eyes widen in surprise. “Your therapist?”
“I’ve been going to therapy, yeah,” Rafe replies, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “For a month or so now, every week without fail.”
It isn’t lost on you that Brooklyn and Kelce’s wedding was a month ago. The rift in your ribcage widens.
“Has it been helping?” You ask.
“A bit,” Rafe admits. “Mostly just to validate what I knew all along, I guess.” At your silence, he continues, “That… shit, that I’ve got this problem where I push people away when I need them the most. The Elle thing, there’s no fucking excuse for it, none, but it became pretty obvious after you confronted me that she was just a rebound.”
“A rebound,” you echo.
“A distraction, an escape… I don’t know.” He rakes his fingers through his hair slovenly. “All I know is, I didn’t care about her, so I didn’t have to push her away. She didn’t make me talk about my dad, my grief, anything, so she was easy enough company to have around when I felt like it.”
“Oh.” You swallow. “But I did.”
“But you did,” Rafe affirms, grimacing sheepishly. “Shit, all you fucking did was care about me and all I did was push you away.”
You try to be pragmatic. “Grief makes people do shitty things.”
“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t deserve it.”
“True.” A pause. Your gaze falls over Rafe’s face in paces, his haggard expression making you soften. “Listen. I’m glad you’re going to therapy, seriously. I know that’s a pretty big step for you to take.”
For you. “Thank you,” he replies quietly. “It… I just wish I’d listened to you the first time, you know? When you’d told me to go to therapy before I’d ended things.”
Your throat feels funny. “No use living in the past.”
“You’re right,” Rafe replies. A pause. The ghost of a smile flickers over his features. “What did I ever do to deserve your forgiveness?”
You smile in tandem, a little rueful. “Maybe you were a martyr in your past life, Cameron.”
“And you’re one in this one,” Rafe responds. “You know, after I lobotomise you over flower arrangements and charcuterie boards. Does that count as a full circle moment?”
You grin. “Not when you live on the Eight. Infinity sign, baby.”
It slips out before you can stop yourself, the ghost of pet-names past pushing Rafe’s pulse to fibrillation. Your eyes widen abashedly. “Should we rejoin the party?”
Rafe nods, “Probably,” and then, when you’re just out of earshot, “I’d do something stupid if we didn’t.”
Over the next few weeks, you begin to see more and more of one another.
A few texts back and forth become more than a few virtual trysts, and every spare moment you have is dedicated to being in each other’s presence.
And it isn’t as though you’re mending old love, this feels like something else altogether. Though old memories may flit through your brain on occasion, they are boundless and free — they don’t define this connection.
You’re starting anew. Rafe realises it too.
He still remembers how it felt to tell you he loved you the first time around, fourteen years old with a bashful smile and enough hope in his heart to ache. He still remembers what you were wearing the first time he drove you around; the first time you came to UNC to visit; the shade of lipgloss you worshipped from Sephora. And you remember it all too, the feeling of being in his pick-up, of being with this roguish, freshman boy that had so much charm your insides soared.
Going through it all again feels like receiving a new lease on life. How lucky are you to love a different person in the same man?
Currently, the pair of you are sprawled out on beach towels, velvet dusk revealing the bespangled sky stretching above you. Beside you, take-out boxes and sodas lie in the sand, discarded. Every now and then, his wrist brushes yours with a jolt of static.
You’re lying closer to each other than you should, his body heat pressing over you in paces. He’s pretty sure his clothes are going to smell like your soft-toned, vanilla perfume later, and he quietly delights in this.
“I’ve been thinking,” he says finally, breaking the silence.
You smile. “Shocker.”
He nudges your shoulder with his in faux-admonishment, turning his head toward you. It lingers; he’s closer. Your pulse feels boundless. “I’ve been thinking,” he repeats. “And I’ve realised something.”
You turn your head in tandem, his proximity making you balk. “What’s that, Cameron?”
“If we hadn’t broken up in the first place, I’d probably never have gone to therapy.”
A hush falls. “True.”
“And I’d never have worked through my emotional unavailability and all the problematic shit that comes with it.” He pauses, a heavy emotion making his blue eyes somber. “We’d have stayed together, but I’d never have become the man that you deserve.”
You swallow. “Is that what you are now?” You murmur, your voice unsure. “The man I deserve?”
“I don’t think so,” he answers quietly. “Don’t think I ever will be. But… but I’m working on it, properly this time. And getting to know you again, for real, has made me realise just how worth it this is.”
It’s too much. You make to turn away but Rafe’s hand stops you, gentle but firm on your face. His thumb swipes over your warm cheek in comforting circles, and you find yourself leaning into his touch inadvertently.
Uh oh, you’re falling in love. You sigh. “It feels inevitable, huh?”
“D’you believe in soulmates, Y/N?”
Your lashes flutter shut in response. Rafe inches closer still, his hand slipping down to your jaw, and when he kisses you, old embers create a new flame within your heart. It’s chaste, unsure, a second first kiss. And yet, though it’s soft, the press of his lips is a ravaging embrace.
“Do you, Rafe?” You return, opening your eyes tentatively.
His gaze is still trained on your pretty mouth, less iris than pupil as his yearning transcends everything else. He presses his thumb on your lower lip gently. “Only if it’s you.”
“I think I am,” you murmur.
Rafe smiles. Oh no, he’s falling in love again. “I think you are too.”
I thought the plane was going down / How’d you turn it right around?
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sapphosclosefriend · 5 months
Text
-Thanksgiving Fun-
Pairing: Stepcousin! Masc! Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader
Genre: smut
Summary: you were never able to resist her, not even on Thanksgiving.
Word count: 3.5k
Warnings: top! (beefy and tattooed 🤤) Natasha x bottom! R, stepcest, enemies with benefits, allusions to weed consumption, SMUT, oral on strap on (R giving), throat fucking (R receiving), strap on sex (R receiving), extremely brief oral (R receiving), squirting (R)
A/N: this story contains smut so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. I literally wrote this in 2 days out of a frenzy so Idk how good it is…M, P, G pt 2 will come, I promise!!!! Once again, thanks to @rt--link for being so sweet! As usual, likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ♡
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It was already November, which meant it was Thanksgiving time! You were so excited to finally get back home for a little bit after the couple of months you had spent away at uni. Contrary to most of your friends, you actually really liked Thanksgiving. Yes, it meant having to undergo the neverending interrogation from your classically nosy aunts, but you gladly did it every year to be able to spend some time with all of your relatives, even the ones who lived a bit more far away. Of course she was also one of them, though.
Natasha was one of your aunt’s daughters. Her mother had married your uncle 3 years before, making her, the redhead and her sister officially part of the family. Everyone liked Nat as soon as she became part of the group and her sister Yelena, with her sharp wit, was, if possible, even more beloved by everybody. As soon as the two girls regularly entered your lives, you had followed everyone’s advice and started to hang out together. You’d always felt very lucky for having cousins of your same age range, making them some of your closest friends ever, and having the chance of adding someone else to the group immediately sounded like the best idea ever, or at least that’s what you had thought at first.
That was because you didn’t like Natasha, you just didn’t. If at first, while witnessing her interactions with other people, she seemed to be the sweetest girl in the world, once you finally got to know her personally you started loathing her. She wasn’t necessarily a bad person, she was just so irritating all the time. And the worst part was that, apparently, she only acted that way with you, not with her friends, not with your other cousins, not even with her own sister, just with you. If you thought that, thanks to uni’s social life, you had met the cockiest motherfuckers in the world, you were utterly wrong. Natasha was the most terrible one of them all. It was constant teasing, constant comments, constant jokes, constant snickering and each time you heard her voice or looked at her, you wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug smirk off her pretty face.
You didn’t know how it all started. Well, of course you knew that one time, at your grandma’s house to celebrate her birthday, Natasha had been particularly annoying since the moment you’d gotten there, which resulted in you being bitchy and her pulling you into the bathroom and kissing you once she had you trapped against the locked door. You hated it, every second of it and the fact that you ended up begging her to keep going while she was with her fingers knuckle deep inside of you wasn’t of any importance. You weren’t proud of what happened that day, but you were too nice to deny her when a couple of days later she was at your door ripping your clothes off of you. You were both attending the same uni and, despite literally never seeing each other in academic nor social settings, you started finding the closeness to be a much bigger impediment to your initial want to put a stop to your newly found situation. You were growing weaker and weaker to her charm, only while in the bedroom of course, and your intent to end it all kept getting pushed to the back of your mind each time you came with her name on your lips, until it was completely gone.
And that’s how you ended up at yet another family gathering partly ruined by her, this time to celebrate Thanksgiving, having to try to push away the tingle between your legs at the sight of her in her usual casual clothes hiding the defined muscles underneath as she talked with her dad and your grandpa about something involving a bike she was fixing up for herself. You were keeping your distance for your own sanity, but you could clearly hear their words and her low, raspy voice regularly adding to the conversation. You didn’t know what the hell they were talking about and either way, you had stopped actively listening long before, once you got lost in the view of her hand as she held her glass. The second she noticed your eyes fixed on her, you were thankfully saved from her most definitely coming over to tease you, by your cousin Clint, bored out of his mind and equally in need of leaving as soon as possible, even if for very different reasons than you. Ok, maybe him being the person talking to you didn’t exactly make him your savior, he was the person Natasha had gotten the closest to after all, which meant that, as soon as she once again turned to get a peek of your outfit she particularly appreciated, he immediately called her over, most definitely hoping to lure her away from the party. She couldn’t have been more obvious with the way her eyes kept ranking your body head to toe as she listened to his frustrated rambling, but thankfully Clint’s desperation blinded him from noticing the less than innocent way in which her gaze was on you.
“I’m begging you Nat, I’ll get on my knees! Just one!”
You both couldn’t help but chuckle at the grown man’s antics, when you suddenly realized that you had no idea of what the hell they were talking about. You barely had the time to open your mouth to ask them directly, when, of course, she interrupted you without a care to keep talking to her friend.
“Fine, but I’m taking half of it”
As soon as the first word barely left her mouth he was throwing his fist in the air and putting his coat on to go to the guest house she was staying in with you. Because of course you had been placed in the same room, in the small guest house in the backyard that only consisted of one room with one bed. You didn't know why, but everyone apparently thought of you two as some sort of best friends just because you both went to the same uni, despite, again, the known fact that you did not have one single class together, lived in different places and had completely different friends, meaning that you only saw each other when she called you over or randomly popped up at your place to fuck, but of course they didn't know any of that.
“A quarter..”
He was already leaving once he spoke his final words, leaving her alone with you to shake her head at her friend’s antics.
“Fine”
You hated how easily she seemingly had you under a trance as she murmured the word while smiling to herself. She was able to put you out of it equally fast, though, as she turned to you to regard you before leaving the celebration to follow after Clint.
“Are you coming?”
Her almost soft tone had to have given you some sort of whiplash as you stood there, looking at her without being able to utter a single word for a second, before regaining control over your own mind, and sanity, once you noticed her lips starting to curl into her usual mischievous smirk.
“Don’t worry, I’m gonna stay here a bit longer”
She was once again putting at risk your ability to talk as she ran a hand through her short hair to get it out of her face and moved closer and closer to you, sneaking her gaze towards the other side of the room where most people had moved to, before reaching behind you to get a snack from the table you were leaning against, pressing her front against yours and letting your feel a certain something poking your lower belly.
“I’ll wait for you then”
She looked way too pleased by your slightly widened eyes as you tried to contain your emotions in order not to draw any attention to the two of you.
“You’re packing?”
Her brows furrowed as you whisper yelled at her, before speaking matter of factly.
“Of course I’m packing, I’m always packing when I’m with you”
She didn't give you the time to respond to her, immediately licking the chocolate off her fingers while shamelessly looking at your cleavage before turning to go to the guest house. She was infuriating, her and her constant horniness. You decided to casually join some conversations here and there for the brief rest of the night, until almost everyone had gotten to bed, including a much more relaxed Clint, and it was just you and your aunt gossiping in the living room. The moment your phone buzzed in your lap you almost had a feeling of who might had been trying to get in contact with you, so you cautiously lifted the screen, in case a certain someone decided to share something a little too private, and noticed she had sent you a picture.
The moment you clicked on it, the initial, brief awe you found yourself lost in at the sight of her posing with her tongue peaking out and the hood of her sweatshirt over her cap, was unfortunately wiped away once you finally read the caption under it. You couldn’t help but mentally facepalm at her dumb words, even if you had to reluctantly admit that the text was successful in making your heart leap at its crude nature.
“Not enough pressure on my 🍆”
Her finger was pointing to the word “pressure” printed on her hoodie, why did she have to be that way? You knew what she wanted from you, it was all she seemed to be thinking about, like some pussydrunk teen, and the way she didn’t even ask you if you were down for it, expecting you to just indulge her wish, didn’t sit right with you. Who did she think you were? Her whore always waiting for her like a pet?
You locked your phone with a frustrated sigh and got up from the couch, quickly finding an excuse with the immediate questioning you got from your aunt as to why you'd go back to your room so early.
By the time you walked across the whole backyard and got to the entrance of the guest house you were finally able to make out her figure, sitting on the wicker armchair under the small porch with all the lights off, in complete darkness, to hide the very end of a hand rolled cigarette between her fingers and the suspiciously smelly smoke coming from her.
“Your tits look good in that shirt”
You knew it was coming, as soon as you had chosen your outfit, you knew some sort of comment was to be made by her, although it had taken her a bit longer than you had expected. You were wearing a quite simple blouse with a boob window, in reality nothing as scandalous as it sounded, but the complete opposite in Natasha’s eyes. The way your jeans perfectly hugged your ass and the sway of your hips anytime you had walked past her, were just the cherry on top to the main course right below your pretty face.
You barely looked at her as you kept walking by her past the door without acknowledging her words, hearing her chuckle at your usual uptight self. You hated to admit it, but the way she was manspreading, making a bulge under her sweatpants slightly visible, while she casually smoked, had made you even more willing to help her out with her “pressure issue”, not that she needed to know about your enthusiasm anyway. By the time you were just starting to get undressed she entered the room, locking the door behind her and standing against it to shamelessly look at your ass as you leaned down to take your shoes off. As soon as your pants were off too and you were about to slip off your shirt she spoke up.
“No no no, keep that on”
Despite the way too pleased look on her face, you were silently thankful for the piece of clothing still on you in the slightly chilly room. You didn’t even bother to take your warm, ankle high socks off and left yourself fall on your back on the bed, feeling satisfied after noticing her swallowing and wetting her own lips as her eyes stayed fixed on your boobs’ slight jiggling as you had dropped on the mattress. Once you got comfortable on top of the soft duvet, you made sure to look right at her as you slowly spread your legs and immediately started lightly rubbing yourself through the fabric of your own underwear, moaning softly at the light stimulation as a way to tease the motherfucker in front of you. Without uttering a word, she left her spot by the door and walked over to you, stopping at the foot of the bed to grab her cock through her pants and slowly pump it. Pushing down her sweatpants just enough for the dildo strapped to her hips to spring out, she gave you a peak of the beautiful, defined v lines you had kissed over so many times and the bottom of the tattoos on her torso and abdomen you had to admit you loved. There was some ink peeking out from the cuff on her wrist as well, making the sight of her strong hand holding the base of her cock even more pleasing.
“Come here, get it wet”
You wanted to come up at least with a remark at her blunt order, but found nothing but anticipation in you and your body, as if moving by its own accord, immediately left your spot to kneel on the bed right in front of her crotch. You didn't waste any time, you couldn't have even if you wanted to, and, as soon as your lips touched the head of her cock, you tried your best to relax your throat in order to take as much of her length as you could, earning a pleased hum from her at the sound of your gags every time she reached the back of your throat.
“Now that's a cocksucker”
Her words pulled your eyes to her face and found her looking intently at you. The groan that came from her once you stopped bobbing your head to stay still with her cock still in your mouth sent a strong twing of arousal through you as she easily understood what you wanted.
She gently grabbed your head with both hands to keep you in place and immediately started to move her hips to fuck your face. Relishing the sight of a string of spit dropping on the part of your chest exposed by the cut in your shirt, she started pushing even deeper to see just how far you were willing to go for her. The resistance was clear as she pushed a bit more of her cock with every other thrust, until you finally couldn't wait anymore and grabbed her ass to give her a push and hopefully make her understand what she needed to do. With one final thrust she managed to push herself past your tight throat until your nose was touching her crotch. She couldn't help herself and rushed to get her phone from her pocket to snap a picture of you looking up at her with watery eyes as you grasped her ass cheeks through her pants to keep her from moving away. It was only once the need to breathe got the best of you that you pushed yourself off of her, sucking in a deep breath while Natasha stared with hooded eyes at your swollen lips and the spit connecting them to her cock.
“You say you hate me but you need my cock that much?”
You hated so much how true her words were and tried to distract yourself from the thought by lying back down and grabbing her cock now covered in your spit.
“Well, you're obsessed with my pussy so it's even”
She just smirked at your remark, deep down knowing that you were so fucking right. She couldn't get enough of it, all the girls she had fucked and she had to loose it for her stepcousin? Well, she honestly didn't give a shit, as long as you were careful she was going to keep fucking you like the slut she knew you were for her deep down.
“For the first time I've gotta say you're right”
You didn't even have the time to process her words and the shock that they had caused when she suddenly moved your underwear to the side and grabbed your ass tightly to lift your hips and get a taste of you, moaning exaggeratedly at her now favorite snack. Despite the leg shaking orgasm you knew she would've easily gotten out of you with her mouth, you pushed the delicious thought to the side and firmly grabbed her hair to lift her from your center.
“Right now I need your cock balls deep in my pussy, not your mouth”
Her lips looked way too delicious as they glistened with your juices and as they curled up she suddenly left go of your ass, making you yelp as you fell back to your lying position, before grabbing your thighs and pushing them to each of your sides, waiting for you to keep them there yourself with your arms to fully open yourself up for her. From the position you had a clear view of her strap as she rubbed it over your wet folds before finally pushing its head inside of you. She could never get enough of seeing your reaction at her entering you for the first time and once again, she couldn't help but keep her eyes on your face from the first moment. She fucked you just with the tip for a bit in order for you to get used to her and, gradually pushed more and more inside as you rubbed your own clit. You knew you were very far away from everybody else, but you still tried your best to keep your volume as low as you could, making her smirk at the clear signs of your struggle to do so.
“More, go faster”
She loved it every time when your uptight, moralist voice turned in a second into the pathetic begs of her own cockdrunk whore and who was she to give up the chance of fucking her personal pussy when she asked for it? After lifting up her hoodie a little to get a better view of your center begging to be filled up more and more, she firmly grabbed your waist, gradually thrusting faster and harder until she had set a pace that knocked your breath away every time she pushed her hips forward and her tip stroked your g spot so deliciously a deep sensation quickly started to build up inside of you. Her flexed abs and veins popping up on her hands made the pleasure she was making you feel, become even stronger, getting your orgasm closer by the second. It honestly amazed you how fast she was always able to make you cum and, despite not wanting to show her any weakness, you admittedly always felt a little self conscious because of it. You could barely keep it anymore, though, it was going to happen in a matter of seconds and your mouth opening in shock told her everything she needed to know.
“Wait, I think I'm gonna-”
You didn't have the chance of finishing your sentence before an earth shattering orgasm hit you so strongly that small, clear droplets spilled out of you every time she pulled back.
“Holy shit”
She panted the words to herself before swiftly pulling out completely and quickly rubbing her fingers over your clit, making you moan loudly as you squirted even more for her while you rode out your orgasm. By the time you were done, your legs were a little shaky and you were almost sobbing from how intense and quick it all was. Once you looked back at her, though, you knew you would've gladly done it as many times as she wanted. Her abs were a little wet from your orgasm, with a couple of drops still lingering on her tattooed skin, and, once your eyes locked with hers, she looked like the most dangerous predator eyeing its prey, ready to eat it in one bite, and, god, wasn't she going to do exactly that.
After all, maybe Thanksgiving was actually going to be even better with her.
.
.
.
Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox @dmenby3100
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steddie-there · 1 year
Text
Steve is bitchy. It's a known fact. He's a reformed mean girl and bitch is like a second language to him. Whether it's scathing commentary about Family Video customers almost before they're out the door,
"So apparently it's national hit on someone young enough to be your granddaughter day, who knew we had such a gross holiday?"
snarky conversations with the kids,
"Well, whaddya know, Dustin, would you look at this?" "What? "It's the coke you said wasn't in the fridge! Isn't it amazing how it just magically appeared?" "Oh, shut up, Steve." "I'm just so completely in awe!"
or calling out the people that still give Eddie nasty looks (and doesn't that make Eddie's heart grow three sizes and threaten to pop out of his chest and burrow into Steve's?),
"You know, Carol, if you keep making that face, it might stick like that. But look on the bright side, at least then the outside would be as hideous as the inside!"
Eddie adores all of it. Loves Steve's mile-wide mean streak. Loves how he can use it to tease the people he loves or decimate the latest idiot he's been forced to deal with.
But Eddie's favorite, the best, the most wonderful, absolutely fantastic moments of Steve's bitchiness? Those happen while he's driving. It doesn't matter what exactly has him riled up about another driver, Steve always has something sarcastic on the tip of his tongue to bitch about them with.
"Do you look as stupid as you drive? Dumbass."
"Jeeze, I never knew the white line was for driving on. What an amazing thing you've discovered!"
"Oh, apparently I missed the memo where 35 mph got changed to 55. Eddie, remind me to check the speed limit sign the next time we drive through here. God, what an impatient asshole."
No matter what it is, it always has Eddie stifling his laughter behind his hand. But this last time - they're at a four-way stop and the car turning across from them definitely went before it was their turn and Steve says, "Hmm, seems someone missed the lesson on taking turns in kindergarten," with that little bitchy tilt to his head - Eddie can't help the guffaw that bursts out of his mouth.
Steve looks at him from the corner of his eye. "What are you giggling about?"
"You. You just - you get so bitchy at the other drivers and, I swear to god, man, it's the funniest shit." He laughs again, says fervently, "Christ, I love you, Stevie."
And then he freezes. Realizes what he said. Takes a deep, horrified breath. It's too soon, they only just started dating, he can't say something like that, he's... He backtracks. "Uh... I mean, uh, I love when you - "
And then freezes again when Steve slides his hand off the steering wheel and onto his thigh, fingers curling around the inside. "So, you love me, huh?"
Eddie chances a glance over at Steve. Despite the teasing tone in his voice, there's something soft around his eyes and the edges of his smile. Something almost... hopeful.
Eddie swallows and decides fuck it. "Yeah, yeah I do," he tells Steve quietly.
Steve makes a quiet sound that goes straight to Eddie's heart. When he peeks over again, Steve is looking back and forth between Eddie and the road and his expression is so open and tender and happy that Eddie doesn't regret for a second what he said, even if it is too soon. "I love you, too, Eds," Steve says and Eddie feels his stomach swoop with butterflies. He puts his hand on Steve's, squeezes it, tangles their fingers together, grins bright at this man he loves so very much.
And if, after that, Steve goes out of his way to play up his bitchiness whenever Eddie is in the car and Eddie never stifles his laughter at it again, well, that's between the two of them, isn't it?
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daddy-suguru · 1 year
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𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠
𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ❥ Eren, Mikasa, Yor, Loid, Suguru, Satoru, Shoko, Sukuna, Kento and Toji
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ❥ explicit and fluffy, wxw, mxw, aftercare, morning sex, somnophilia, cock warming, praise, making you cum as a part of aftercare, double-ended dildo, strap-on, satoru ‘pretends’ he can’t hear you, grinding, teasing, monster fucking, sukuna’s true form, dp - anal and pussy, (sukuna)breeding - no chance of pregnancy, (loid)breeding - with talk of making you a mom, plugging you full of cum, kento spits wine into your mouth, cock sucking/deepthroating, squirting, light degradation, begging, pausing in the middle of sex and it becoming cuddling as a form of teasing , sukuna lets himself be soft since you are asleep, getting fucked to sleep
𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧
Rubbing your bruising hips, Every time his hand stops he gives you a gentle squeeze. Eren’s warm large hands are soothing and comforting. His soft touch as he slowly drags his hand up along the shape of your hips is in sharp contrast to the angry grip he had earlier.
Someone had stared too long, Eren couldn’t calm down after telling off the guy. Which had led to Eren needing to hear you say you are his. With possessive and lingering touches that had you crying out his name.
Eren keeps his voice low when he asks you, “Sweet mama I made you cum enough? But if you want to be greedy..” His voice trails off while he slips one hand in between your thighs. Which Eren keeps spread apart with his own thick ones.
Leaning down and softly kissing the top of your head. While dragging his fingers along your puffy lips, wrapped around the base of his softening cock. Which is keeping his warm cum deep inside of you.
Leaning down and softly kissing the top of your head. While dragging his fingers along your puffy lips, wrapped around the base of his softening cock. Which is keeping his warm cum deep inside of you.
Leaning down and softly kissing the top of your head. While dragging his fingers along your puffy lips, wrapped around the base of his softening cock. Which is keeping his warm cum deep inside of you.
Eren says, “It’s addicting, feeling your soft, squishy pussy gushing around me.” Trailing his fingers up along the puffy curve your lips give to while wrapping around Eren, up to your clit. Softly rub small circles on your clit.
𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐚
Mikasa’s cheeks are a soft pink and her chest is rising and falling with quick short pants. While she comes to a stop, her hips grinding one last time, making against yours. As the double-ended dildo vanishes from sight in between both of you.
The tremble in her muscular legs became a soft quiver. While you flick your tongue over the flat of Mikasa’s budded-up soft pink nipple. The feeling went down to her clit. And she loves the way her breasts squish on your face, covering up to your eyes. While you stare up at her, taking in her jawline covered in red bite marks from you.
Slowly she pulls away and her nipple slips out of your mouth with a loud pop. The fat of her tit ripples from it, the sight making you lick your lips. And you can’t help but grab her breasts, massaging them.
Smiling up at her as you ask, “You with me princess?.” Mikasa always needs a moment to gather herself after she cums. The way she becomes breathless and speechless, with wide starry eyes. It’s one of your favorite things about her.
A few more seconds pass before she softly hums, “Mmm…” her words slur together when she asks you, “Can we sit like this for a little while?” Moving your hands from her breasts to her face, cupping her gently.
Leaning up and softly kissing the tip of her nose and telling her, “Of course princess, we can lay down like this.” Her smile grows as she moves her lips down to yours. While slowly leaning back with her.
Mikasa and you roll over, after your back hits the bed, and she lifts her leg up over your hip, pulling you close. Keeping the long, thick dildo that is connecting both of you inside of her.
Mikasa breaks the kiss, not even pulling away as she mumbles against your lips, “I love being connected like this with you.” She places one of her hands on top of yours, pulling your hand from her face. And lacing her fingers in between yours.
𝐲𝐨𝐫
Biting into her bottom lip while a deep red blush over comes her cheeks. Yor pauses with the towel on top of her head, her attention on your strap-on hanging between your legs. While you sit on the sofa with your legs spread apart.
Slowly Yor makes out, “Oh! You! Uhh, please.” While slowly pulled her towel off her head, letting her long dark hair fall. She bites into her bottom lip, getting too flustered to ask.
Motioning for her to come close, asking her, “Please what?” When the two of you first got together Yor used to get so nervous she couldn’t move. But now she can take small steps towards you, her thick thighs rubbing together.
Standing in front of you and staring at the ground she mumbles, “Please can I sit on your lap, with…” she has to pause for a moment while she covers her face. With her long dark hair had slipped over her shoulders, framing the sides of her deeply blushing face.
Placing your thumb on her clit, softly rubbing small circles. She drops one of her hands to grab your wrist, holding your hand there. As her hips shutter, grinding her clit on her thumb. While you softly say,
“With what?” Trying to coax the rest of the words out of her. With her now looking at you, you grab your dildo and hold it up for her. And the soft whine she makes has your pussy clenching around nothing.
Moving her hand to cup her own cheek, she asks, “With your cock inside of me.” Pulling your hand away, you lean in and softly kiss her clit. Giving her a sloppy open mouth kiss, sucking her soft bud into your mouth. Before pulling away and telling Yor,
“Fill yourself up full of my cock then.”
𝐥𝐨𝐢𝐝
White thick cum trails behind Loid’s cock when he slips himself out of you. And the sight of it has Loid pushing himself back into your wet heat. Before he softens up to where he couldn’t use his cock to plug you up.
Loid places his hand on your stomach, pushing down. The added pressure has you feeling every inch of Loid more acutely than before. Groaning loudly as he has to pause for a second. While your soft, wet pussy squeezing him becomes too much for him.
Halfway inside of you, Loid says, “Can’t let my cum leak out, not after you did so well begging for it.” You adore how he looks above you, with his messy blonde hair, soft eyes, and pink cheeks.
Your favorite part is how he bites into his bottom lip when he moves again. Pushing himself balls deep inside of you. And the heavy groans he makes goes straight to your dripping pussy.
You softly whimper, “It feels so warm, I want more of it.” Loid lets go of his bottom lip which is puffy from the number of times he bit into it. And then he moves his hand from your stomach, to your hips.
Rolling onto his back, moving you with him, laughter passes your lips while you rest on top of Loid’s tall, muscular body. He smiles and says, “Do you want me to only cum in your pussy from now on my love?” Loid grabs your hips and squeezes you softly while you plead with him,
“Please, want you to make me a cream pie every time. I’ll be a good girl and earn it however you want me to.” Loid always the strict dom, who enjoys edging you as his way of seeing if you will behave and earn the right to cum. Or if you would give in to your frustration and be a brat for him to discipline.
Moving his hand from your hips, down to your ass. Which he softly cups, enjoying the way your ass feels in his hand. He says to you,
“I know you will. You are going to be such a beautiful Mommy for me and eventually suck the milk out of your breasts as they swell up.”
𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮
Grinding your hips, unable to look away from Suguru’s cock that is trapped between your lips. While your rub your clit on him and when the ridge of his head brushes your clit, you can’t think of anything else but of Suguru’s cock.
Whining, “Please can I sit on your cock.” The needy request has Suguru’s grin stretching into a smirk. Which only makes you whine in frustration as Suguru keeps guiding your hips.
He tells you, “Not until you cum again by rubbing yourself on my cock like the needy little whore you are for me.” After you had finished too quickly the first time, in your eagerness you had forgotten to put on a show. Which left Suguru unsatisfied since he so badly craves seeing the building desperation to have him inside of you.
Begging Suguru, “I can’t need you inside me, please I can’t stand waiting anymore. Please Suga, Please Suga, Pleeeease. I need you inside me, want to feel you.” Guiding your hips up, slipping your clit over his head, and then pushing your hips down.
His thick head catches on your dripping hole. And the way your pussy splits open for him, tightly wrapping around his cock. Cause you to whine,
“SUUUGAANnnnnh!” Staring up at your tall husband with wide eyes, dragging your nails down his chest. Which adds more pink scratches to his chest to the fading ones you created last night. When he had woken you up in the middle of the night, by putting you into a matting press while he pounded into your rougher with each thrust.
You lift your hips, only for Suguru to push your hips back down and keep your hips down. And any attempt to move it made useless in his tight grasp. He then reminds you by saying,
“You told me you can’t cum anymore, so I was thinking we could sit here and cuddle for a little while. Until you can convince me, you can cum some more for me.” You let out a whine as Suguru leans down to press a soft lingering kiss on your forehead. Before he sighs, “I love hearing you whine for me.”
𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮
It is rare to wake up to Satoru still in bed, with his heavy arm draped around you. And his hard chest pressed against your back. While his cock is hard inside of you, occasionally twitching.
Satoru isn’t very thick, but the soft stretch he gives is noticeable. His hard head rubs your cervix, while he presses teasingly against your sweet spot. And when you squeeze him, Satoru softly whines in his sleep.
Slowly move your hips away, only for his grip around your waist to tighten. Pulling your hips back and burying his cock back inside of you. While he mumbles,
“I’ve been awake for an hour now, just holding you. I wish to have more lazy mornings with you in bed. You feel so soft and warm princess, couldn’t help but need to slip my morning wood inside nngh do that again.” Even so early in the morning, Satoru rambles until you clench around him, distracting him.
Clenching yourself around Satoru repeatedly, he rolls you onto your stomach. Grabbing both of your hands over your head. He lies on top of you, bending his legs, straddling your ass, and keeping himself deep inside of you.
Satoru’s chest is pressing your head into the pillow. While he lays his head on the fluffy pillow above your head. A large grin on his pale pink lips as you slowly turn your head to the side so you can get a breath of air. Which you used to gasp out,
“Mooove please.” Too impatient to wait any longer. Yet Satoru only slips his fingers through yours. While he keeps you pinned the heavy weight of his body and your hands above your head.
Satoru lifts his head up and says, “Can’t understand what your speaking into the pillow!” Before face planting back into the pillow and giving a grinding, teasing roll of his hips. Then becoming still on top of you once more, chuckling as you whine in frustration underneath him.
𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐨
Slowing the pace of your hips, letting go of Shoko’s soft and squishy thighs. And placing a hand next to her head, cupping her cheek with the other hand. Admiring the hazy look on her face while her brown hair, pools underneath her head.
Telling Shoko, “I love seeing you squirt, always so beautiful. The way your eyes roll back and your hips won’t stop jerking. It’s all so beautiful.” You lean forward kissing Shoko’s forehead. While she rubs your sides, slowly trailing her fingertips along the shape of your body.
She sleepily mumbles, “Hmm you have me too tired and hazy to stress about anything.” Smiling while covering Shoko’s face with kisses. And as you are trying to pull away Shoko wraps her legs around your waist.
Hovering above Shoko’s lips and saying, “You want to cock warm down here for a little while. You can’t blame me if I doze off.” Pressing your lips to Shoko’s soft ones. Which still has a bit of the pina-colada-smelling gloss still coating her lips.
Softly whimpering against her lips as she parts hers. Slip your tongue inside her mouth as she moans into your mouth. While you gently grind your hips, shallowly pumping your cock into her sensitive pussy. While she ruts her hips down, making the nub on the inside of the strap-on rub your clit.
Stilling your hips when you break the kiss, catching your breath. While Shoko is heavily breathing underneath you. And you can’t help but lean down and press a kiss on the tip of her nose. Before laying down on top of her.
Burying your face into her neck. While she wraps her arms around you, squeezing you close. Her soft breasts squishing against you. And the thick strap-on makes a bulge in her stomach that you can feel pressing into you.
Shoko softly says, “This is so cozy. I could cock warm with you down here for hours. I love your idea of having these pillows and blankets on the floor in front of this mirror.” The soft lights of the candles and the string of lights on the ceiling add to the softness of the moment. Which she didn’t want to end just yet.
𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚
Your eyes can’t stay open any longer. The soft haziness of the afterglow after he rearranged your guts with both of his cock has you falling fast into a heavy sleep. While your head rests on his chest.
Sukuna had disturbed the little sleep you were getting banging on your door at three in the morning. Interested in a booty call regardless of not saying anything previously. Since he hadn’t planned to show up at yours.
In fact, he had tried to talk himself out of it. But the way your pussy squeezes both of his cocks, taking everything just how he needs to give it. And the cries of his name won’t leave his head.
Softly mumbling, “Why do you have to be addicting? Wake up!” He hates how whiney he is getting at the lack of attention from you. But with you being asleep he allows himself to complain about your human limitations.
Stilling your hips but keeping his grasp on your hips firm. While wrapping one of his top arms around your waist. As he cups the back of your hand with his last free hand. He grumbles,
“I don’t want to be done yet, my cocks are hard. Princess!” Softly shake your sleeping body for a little. While he calls you a nickname, he wouldn’t dare utter it when you are awake.
Sukuna’s cocks throbs inside of you, stretching you out. While he plugs three loads of thick cum deep in you, knowing that he can’t get you pregnant. And when he gets around to lifting your sleepy self off of himself, so much cum is going to trickle out of both your pussy and ass.
Thinking about it is keeping Sukuna’s cocks hard. While he mumbles, “I guess you can sleep on me for a little while. But don’t get used to it.”
𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨
Swirling the wine in his glass while he had his other hand on the top of your head. While you bob your head up and down, deep throating his cock. Gagging around him every time your nose touches the short blonde patch of hair above his cock. Where you pause for a moment.
Your throat squeezes Kento’s thick, veiny cock while he takes a small sip of the wine. His dark eyes focused on you, as you pull out of your mouth inch by inch. Until your lips are wrapping around his fat head.
Swallowing his sip of wine while you swirl your tongue around Kento’s head. He tells you, “Darling you want to sip?” And you pull Kento out of your mouth with a loud pop.
Sitting back on your heels and saying, “Please, baby.” Kento moves his hand from the top of your head, grabbing your jaw lightly. And without him having to tell you, you stick out your tongue as Kento takes a sip.
Kento leans forward to spit the wine into your mouth. Your pussy throbbing as the liquid trickles into your mouth. And when the last drop passes Kento’s lip, he says,
“Swallow and then sit on my cock, since you’re being such a good girl for me tonight. I’ll let you have your reward early.” He leans back into the sofa and holds his large glass of wine aside. While you stand up and straddle his hips.
Softly purrs to Kento, “Thank you, sweetie I love the way your cock feels inside of me. And the wine you picked tastes so good.” You reach down to grab Kento’s cock, holding him up, and lining him up.
Sinking yourself down on him, taking Kento inch by inch. While his grasp on the wine glass tightens. And you lean forward to press soft kisses along his jawline. As his hand settles on your hip, giving you a soft squeeze.
Kento groans, “So good for me darling, with your wet pussy squeezing me just right. You can’t bounce yourself on my cock till I finish my glass of wine. And sadly for you, I’m thinking about pouring a little more into my glass. So I hope you are comfortable.”
𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢
The sight of your bulky and often grumpy boyfriend sitting shirtless in his sweats on the sofa. With a cold beer in his hand and a cig between his lips. And based on the slight dampness to his hair, he hadn’t been home long.
The sight of him makes some of the stress rolls off your shoulder. As you ask him bluntly, “Can I sit on your cock?” Toji arches a brow as he blows out a puff of smoke. And then takes a swing of his drink, tilting his head back as he does.
Closing the small gap while he grabs his sweatpants and pushes them down. Kicking them aside while you finish by telling him,
“I need to feel your skin on mine. With your arms around me cuddles. I’m going to fall asleep on you.” You quickly shed your clothes, slipping your underwear off. While Toji sets his beer on the side table next to him.
You reach back to unclasp your bra down to your bra before Toji grabs your hands. Which Toji places by your side and then let’s go. Before he reaches behind you to undo your bra while he says,
“Ok, ma but in an hour thirty I’m waking you up to order some food.” Slipping your straps off your shoulders and leaning forward, gently kiss the marks left behind. While you softly sigh,
“That sounds wonderful, mmm Toji.” He bites down on your shoulder while he pulls you onto his lap. Where he arranges you on his lap, making you straddle him in a way he knows is most comfortable for both of you.
Lightly pinching your nipple between two of his calloused fingers. While he holds his cock up, for you to push yourself down on. You can only take Toji’s fat cock head, before you had to pause, letting yourself get used to his girth.
Toji lets go of your hip to your clit while he toys with your clit, trying to lace the discomfort with pleasure. Since beforehand Toji normally has to prep you with his thick fingers before he can fuck his cum into you.
Softly he hums, “That’s it, take your time with your cock mama.”
6K notes · View notes
vivwritesfics · 4 months
Text
(Oh My God) They Were Roommates
Chapter Three - Date Night
Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.
1.4K
Warnings: Shitty date, alcohol, violence
Series Masterlist
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"Where are you going?"
Again, Lando was sitting in front of the television with a bowl of cereal in his lap. Although this time it was the early evening and he had done all he needed to for the day, giving him time to wind down.
Y/N wasn't in her workout gear. On the contrary, she was in a lovely black dress with a white shirt over the top and black tights covering her legs. She had a small bag dangling from her shoulder and a pair of chunky, heeled boots on her feet.
She looked lovely, even Lando could admit it. Actually he'd have the imagine of her burned into his brain for all eternity.
"On a date," answered Y/N, her voice rather snappy. She grabbed her keys from the kitchen counter and headed towards the front door.
But, out of the corner of her eye, she saw as Lando shook his head. Y/N turned on her heel, eyes fierce as she stared at him. "What?" She barked, her hand still against the door knob.
Lando shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't say anything."
"But you shook your head."
He turned to face her over the back of the sofa. "That's not saying anything."
"Just tell me what you mean!" She stamped her foot, her voice growing louder.
Lando let a sigh out of his nose. "Fine," he said and held up his hands. "I'm just saying, what if this guy is using you? You're a world famous Formula One driver - he could be using you for fame."
"What, because it's impossible for somebody to like me otherwise? Is that what you're trying to say, Lando?"
He held up his hands defensively. "All I'm saying is you have to be careful."
But Y/N didn't believe that, not for one minute. "No, you're being an asshole."
"Y/N, I'm not being an asshole. I'm actually trying to look out for you."
"Sure," she scoffed and turned the door handle, ready to leave the apartment.
But Lando cleared his throat. "Are you gonna put out on the first date? That would make a great story for the reporters."
"Fuck off, Lando."
"You're only making yourself look bad," he muttered as he returned to his now soggy cereal.
Y/N left the apartment. She walked out with confidence, although it had been shattered by Lando. She didn't let it show, though, just how terrible she was now feeling.
Because Lando was right, he could just be using her for fame and notoriety.
Dating had been hard ever since she entered the Formula One scene. All of her colleagues seemed to get with models or sporting stars. But Y/N didn't want a model or a sporting star. She wanted someone she could get along with, have a good time with and be herself.
She walked to the restaurant, not driving as she didn't want to "show off" in front of her date. He arrived late, his outfit not nearly as put together as hers was (although she wasn't judging him based on that).
The minute he sat down he immediately ordered the most expensive things on the menu. That wasn't the end of the world - he was paying for his own food.
When he opened his mouth to talk, that was when things really started to go wrong. He was non-stop talking about formula one. At first, Y/N thought it was nice. He was taking an interest in her career. But then it became clear that he was a super fan and he just wanted to talk about her colleagues.
It became evident that he didn't actually care to get to know her. That Lando was right. He only wanted to take her on a second date for a chance at Bahrain tickets.
That was all he kept asking about. Bahrain. At first Y/N thought it was to take interest in her career. Be he kept coming back to it, complaining about the price of tickets and how he would loved to have been her plus one.
The only thing getting her through dinner was the alcohol she was throwing back. And then, when it came to paying, he had conveniently forgotten his wallet.
At least he offered to driver her home. He drove her back to the apartment, stopping outside. "So," he said, hand on her leg. Y/N was quick to move it. "Can I walk you upstairs?"
Y/N let out a huff and held her bag tighter. "Look, Ryan, I don't think that's a good idea. My roommate is trying to sleep and our walls are thin and-"
"I swear I'll just walk you to your door."
She should have said no. She should have left him in the car and made her way up to her apartment alone. But she had also been drinking, and wasn't thinking straight. It was the alcohol that answered for her when she said, "sure."
He walked behind her as Y/N went up to the apartment. When she got to the door of her apartment and pulled out her key, he leaned against the wall and placed a hand on her waist. "So, can I come in?" He asked with what he must have thought was a seductive look.
Y/N shook her head, hesitating to push her key into the lock. What if he pushed his way into the apartment? Would Lando help her? Would he help her to kick this guy out?
"Oh, come on baby," said Ryan as he took her key from her hand.
"Hey!" Y/N shouted, reaching for it. "Give it back! I don't want you in my apartment!"
Her shouts seemed to be enough. Suddenly the apartment door was pulled open and Lando was stood in front of her, his swing fast as he punched her date.
"Lando!" Y/N cried as Ryan dropped her keys and stumbled backwards, holding his bloody nose.
Lando placed himself between Y/N and Ryan, ready to swing again. "She said no, fuck face," he said, his voice calm. But his stance said otherwise. Ryan squared up to him but, when Lando raised his fist once again, he backed down, turning and running away.
As soon as he was gone, Lando reached down to pick up her keys. He placed them in her hand and walked back into the apartment without another word.
On shaky legs Y/N followed him in. She placed her bag down on the sofa and sat herself down, kicking off her boots.
Lando suddenly placed a glass of water on the coffee table in front of her. He looked down at her for just a second as she pulled the white shirt tighter to her body.
But, when she said nothing, Lando turned to walk away.
Y/N was feeling a certain amount of vulnerability. She couldn't stop herself as she grabbed his arm and said, "wait," her voice little more than a whisper.
Saying nothing, Lando turned to face her. She watched as Y/N let go of him and sat back on the sofa, sitting just a little bit straighter.
Somehow, Lando knew exactly what she was asking for. He sat on the sofa beside her and switched on the television.
There was little distance between them already. Y/N shuffled closer to him. Blame it on the alcohol and the frigid February air, but she shuffled closer to him.
"You were right," she muttered and picked up the glass of water. "He was an asshole and he just wanted Bahrain tickets."
Lando looked down at her. "Told you," was all he said as he placed his feet on the coffee table.
Her head fell onto his shoulder. "Thanks for saving me," she mumbled.
The only way Lando could get comfortable was to put his arm around her.
"I was actually getting a little scared out there."
Lando shrugged his shoulders. She'd been drinking, that much was clear. She kept leaning against him as the television played on in the background, neither of them paging much attention to it.
She fell asleep against him. Lando left her there for an hour. When he was sure she wasn't going to stir, he picked her up and carried her to her room, laying her on top of her covers.
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lovelettersfromluna · 7 months
Text
⋆ ★ Once again, for the first time ⋆ ★
{Ellie Williams x Reader}
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Summary: Being in love with your best friend has got to be one of the most emotionally exhausting things someone can experience, so it’s time you put your foot down and moved on….at least, try to move on
an: God it almost feels wrong to just come back after so long without a continuing chapter to what I’ve been working on, pls don’t be mad at me 😵‍💫. I’ve been really busy you guys! I just got home yesterday and while I know you’ve all be asking for other things, I just haven’t been feeling super inspired to continue them RIGHT NOW, and I feel that’s why I’ve been MIA for so long. While I say I’m not inspired to continue them right now, that doesn’t mean I’m abandoning them! I will be coming back to them don’t worry! For now, I hope this little angsty fic is enough for you all, and I hope you’ve stuck around to read it, and if you haven’t, that’s okay too. Anyways, I’ve missed you all so much, and I hope you like this one 🖤🖤🖤.
Warnings: ANGST!!! Eventual smut in future chapters, Ellie is an oblivious idiot, Quiet!reader, momentary alternative love interest (it’s just for the story I promise 😉), jealous!Ellie, possessive!Ellie, Please let me know if I missed anything!
Part 2 can be read, here!
The warm glow of your tv screen became blurry with each passing second. You could barely make out the erratic movements of the video game characters beating each other to a pulp as Ellie’s fingers tapped away at the buttons on the game controller, soft huffs leaving here lips ever so often. “Fucking dick..” She mumbled under her breath, eyebrows knit in deep concentration, eyes almost growing watery from her lack of blinking.
You on the other hand, you were nearly fast asleep. Cuddled into your sofa, resting your head against a pillow that was propped up against the arm of the couch, a plush blanket draped over your body as you watched your best friend control a scantily clad character to violently fight the opposite person.
This was tradition for you and Ellie. She’d come over, you would force her to study with you because she was often too stubborn to do it without you, you’d order shitty take out, watch her play video games, and then you’d fall asleep. It always ended with her dragging you to your bedroom, staying with you for a bit before she left, and then in the morning, she’d be waiting for you outside your apartment to go to school together.
And that was life, life with your best friend that is. It had been that way since you were practically babies, your routines changing and adapting to whatever phase of life you were both in within that moment, but it was always more or less the same. And you couldn’t complain, you wouldn’t change it for the world.
Not even if you were given the chance to have her as something more.
Ellie had always been a charmer, and unfortunately, the extent of her charming demeanor had made its way to you. It was something you noticed early on, as soon as you were able to decipher feelings of love, you were able to link those with Ellie. When people would explain love to you, or you’d see it in others, you thought of Ellie. You realized quickly after that though, that Ellie was your best friend, and feelings would greatly complicate the long history that you two had together.
And so, you swallowed them down.
It wasn’t like it was painful or anything. Sure, seeing Ellie with other girls wasn’t great, but you coped. Life went on, and you promised yourself you’d never let your feelings get in the way of Ellie’s life, your life, or your friendship.
“Man…I’d let Mileena rip my head off any day…” Ellie sighed out, the girl never a stranger to gawking at the make believe video game characters in her favorite games. You let out a sleepy hum, giving her a nod as you cuddled further into the couch, not fully able to comprehend your friends words due to your sleepy state.
The sounds you made caught Ellie’s attention, causing her to sit forward a bit so she could catch a glimpse of your nearly sleeping face. She chuckled softly, shaking her head a bit as she reached forward for the controller, turning off the console followed by the tv before she stood up, taking your hand in hers and pulling you slightly.
“You have the energy of a seventy year old woman…come on, let’s get you to bed grandma” she teased, and it only causes you to whine softly. The couch is so comfortable, and you’re more than happy with sleeping there for the night just so you didn’t have to move and lose the blissful drowsy feeling that came with the sounds of Ellie playing Mortal Kombat lulling you to sleep.
“I’m fine here…” You tried, knowing that she wouldn’t settle for you sleeping there on the couch all night. And she didn’t need to be told twice, she let out a soft hum, one that almost sounded like she’d leave you there, but suddenly you’re being lifted off of the couch, into Ellie’s strong chest, even stronger arms wrapping around your body, which once again caused you to whine.
No matter how tired you were, how close to sleep, you can’t ignore the burning fire in your chest when she holds you like this. Even though being Ellie’s friend was the furthest thing from painful, it was times like this that it got a little too hard. Ellie was always a very affectionate person, especially with people she was close to, and you happened to be at the top on that list.
So, when she’d do things like this, pull you up into her arms and carry you to bed, or slip her arms around your waist and spoon you from behind when you were watching movies together, or when she’d pull you close to her when you were in a crowded room, it was easy to imagine how things would be if it were different, if you were able to have her in the way you wanted.
Only for a moment though.
Ellie hummed softly as she gently rested you on your bed, making sure to pull your socks off because she knew you’d kick them off in your sleep anyways, and pull the blanket, not the duvet, over your body because it was how you preferred to sleep. She knew exactly what to do with you, and it always made your heart tug.
She smiled softly down at you, watching as your heavy eyes grew even heavier once your head hit your soft pillows. She gave your elbow a gentle nudge before she turned off the lights in your room, closed the door, and left your apartment.
And even though you were already falling asleep, you couldn’t ignore the urge you had to ask her to stay. The urge you always had to ask her to stay with you.
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You let out a soft yawn, rubbing your eyes a bit before you began writing down in your notebook again. Your headphones played soft music into your ears, the blessing of a noise cancelling headset always making it easy to study in your college library, for a moment, pretending as if you were the only one there.
Until Ellie showed up.
She gently pulled one side of your headset up, her lips close to your ear as she approached you. “Hey stranger” she giggled softly, causing you to whine as you pulled the headset down to rest against your neck. You gave your friend a soft smile as you set your pen down, watching as she promptly took the seat next to you and tossed her bag onto the table.
“Hey yourself…came all the way to the library to see me?” You teased her, propping your elbows onto the table and resting your head against your hands as you watched her slump down into her chair, oversized hoodie hanging on her broad shoulders, light washed denim jeans hanging loose on her hips, short hair lazily tugged up into her signature half up half down ponytail, pretty strands falling down and framing her face perfectly.
God she was a fucking dream.
Ellie groaned softly, her head falling back as she blew air past her lips, staring up at the ceiling of the library. “I have time between classes…so I came to bother my favorite little scholar” She hummed out, giving you a lazy grin as she turned her head back towards you, causing you to roll your eyes at her words.
“You know, you could use this time to study” you try, narrowing your eyes at her playfully, which causes her to roll her eyes right back at you. “Ahhh, please. You’re probably the only one here that actually does that shit” she hummed out, which causes you to shrug, closing your books and stacking them upon one another. “True, but I have the grades to show for it” you nod to herself before you push your things to the side, turning back to your friend and giving her your attention.
“So? What’s happening. You look like you’re just itching to tell me something” you smirked softly, knowing your friend all too well. Whenever became fidgety, or absolutely needed to find you, there was something on her mind.
Ellie smirked softly, staring down at her ring clad fingers before she let out a soft hum, purposefully keeping you waiting with anticipation before she began speaking.
“Do you think Sofia is into girls?”
For a moment, the twinkle in your eye, and the soft smile on your lips as you watch your best friend drops completely. You’re glad she isn’t looking, because you’re sure anyone would be able to see the visible disappointment written on your face as soon as she says it. You only let it fall for a moment though, because you’re immediately collecting yourself, picking yourself up off the ground and giving your friend a soft, reassuring nod.
“Has being straight ever stopped a girl from being into you Ellie?” You tease her, recalling the frequent times girls claimed they were straight, yet somehow always ended up chasing after Ellie after they’ve had one too many drinks.
Ellie groans softly, shaking her head as she sits forward a bit. “No man…I don’t wanna just hook up with her..or..or be her fantasy or something. I wanna…ask her out or something” she mumbled out, cheeks burning red as she toyed with the shiny rings on her fingers. You blink a few times, trying to find the right words to encourage your friend to do it, to pursue whoever it was that she wanted.
No matter how much the words tasted bitter on your tongue.
“Well…ask her, or you can ask around? A close friend of hers would definitely know if she was interested in girls or not” you tried again, watching as your friend frowned in concentration, eyebrows furrowed, green eyes narrowed.
Whoever this girl was, Ellie was doing her head in over her….
It almost bothered you that this was your first time hearing about her.
“You think? I’ve just…I’ve had my eye on her for a while and I think I’m ready to finally make a move, you know?” She sighed out, and you nod slowly, giving her a soft smile paired with a reassuring nod.
“Then go for it, Els. The worst she can say is no, and even then, there are plenty of other fish in the sea” you assure her. Because it’s true, Ellie never stayed single for long. There were always girls interested in her, or her them, and it wasn’t long until she was introducing you to a new, pretty girl that she’d have on her arm for the next however many months.
She smiled softly as she nodded, your words clearly getting through to her, as they always did. She gives a determined nod, moving to stand up from the chair she was sat at. “You’re damn right there is…hey, I’m gonna try to find someone to talk to, but I’ll catch you later, yeah?” She nods, slinging her bag over one of her shoulders, already walking away from the table as her eyes never left yours.
You give her a soft nod, eyes lingering on her form as you let out a low hum. “Always” you confirm, knowing that it was true. You’d always be there when Ellie needed you.
She beamed back at you, giving you a nod. You could practically see the excitement shining off of her body, seeping through her pores. “And I’ll catch you this weekend! Your place!” She shouted, causing your eyes to widen at her volume, the other students instantly shushing her. You give her a quick nod, your hands fanning away as you shoo her out of the library, a soft giggle leaving your lips.
You ignore the little cracks in your heart, because the smile on her face makes up for it. You know it’ll pass, you know this is merely a phase of your life that you’ll look back on and laugh at once you’ve found the person that was right for you, one that filled up the little holes that Ellie left in your heart.
And oh how you couldn’t wait for that day to come.
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You don’t see Ellie that following weekend.
In fact, the last time you actually saw her was that day in the library, with the few times you saw her in and out of classes that the two of you shared.
Ellie ended up talking to Sofia that same day, and it turns out she was interested in girls. From the texts that she sent you that night, she was raving about the day that they had set up after hours of talking out in the courtyard. She tells you she’s sorry, that she can’t make it out to your place for your routine weekend together, and you tell her it’s fine, to have fun and tell you all about the date the next morning.
And suddenly, you can’t remember the last time you spent more than five minutes with your best friend.
You text here and there, and she catches you outside of class when you happen to make it there at the same time sometimes, but you don’t really have lunch together anymore like you always do, you don’t sit outside in the courtyard to kill time between classes together, she doesn’t visit you in the library, all of those things just suddenly stop.
And then she tells you, she’s dating Sofia.
She tells you they made it official after the first four dates, and at first you feel it’s a bit fast, but you realize they spend all of the time that you and Ellie used to spend together, with each other instead, and it suddenly makes sense. Ellie had a girlfriend now, and it was the explanation for the sudden lack of her presence, the absence of your best friend on weekends. While you stared at your tv screen alone, she was with Sofia.
And you were happy for her, of course you were happy, why wouldn’t you be? She was your best friend and she had gotten the girl she wanted for so long, just as you expected she would…
But the happiness you felt for her lived alongside the sadness that you felt. The two emotions becoming tenants in the home that was your heart, sitting across one another, glaring at each other as they battled for control of you, controlling how you dealt with the situation, how you coped with the sudden disappearance of your best friend.
So, you didn’t give either one control, you ignored them both after a while, and you simply carried on as if nothing had ever happened.
Ellie really was the only person you occupied any free time with, opting to be with her rather than anyone else, because it felt good. You liked it when it was just you and Ellie, it was easy, and it was easy to not overthink things and simply be, rather than worry about how you were behaving.
So without her, you simply did all the things you did with her, just on your own.
Ellie tried to make time for you, while juggling the escapades that come with the early stages of a relationship, you couldn’t take that away from her, but you saw how hard it was. You didn’t want her to feel bad, or feel like she was neglecting you, or her friendship, even if she sort of was. You convinced her it was fine, that she deserved to enjoy her new relationship, and that it needed more attention than your friendship ever would, not right now at least.
And Sofia was great. She was beautiful, and kind, and sweet, and after meeting her a few times, you considered her to be somewhat of a big sister figure. Seeing her made it clear to understand just why Ellie was so keen on taking her off the market as soon as she could.
But that seemed to make it even harder to deal with.
It was on days like this one where it hit you a bit harder, Ellie’s absence. You didn’t mind being alone, but walking to and from classes without her constant banter and jokes definitely wasn’t the best, and heading out to the cafes for lunch was far too quiet on your own, but, you prevailed.
You were making your way out of your third and last class for the day, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you adjusted your bag on your shoulder. The week was finally closing in, and you couldn’t be happier. You yearned for the warmth of your home, your cozy little bed, your favorite mug filled with your favorite hot chocolate, it called to you as you pushed past the large doors of your college building, making your way out to the brisk outdoors of your campus.
The sound of quickening footsteps behind you was almost drowned out as you took your headphones from behind your neck, and began setting them onto your head. A hand suddenly pulled them down, forcing them back around your neck, which caused your eyebrows to furrow as you turned around to see who in their right mind would try to fuck with a girl and her music.
You almost passed out when you were met face to face with your best friend.
Seeing her made you realize just how long it had been since you saw her. You tried convincing herself it had only been a few weeks, but you found it hard to remember the last time you were staring up into those big green eyes, and not imagining them instead.
Your frown was quickly replaced with a soft smile, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you stared up at Ellie. “Ellie…god…I was ready to start throwing punches” you joked, pulling your headset from around your neck and pushing them down into your beg before you looked back up at her.
Ellie chuckled softly, watching as you went about putting your things away. Her smile was so bright, eyes twinkling, cheeks red, all signs that pointed towards the same thing.
Ellie Williams was properly smitten.
“I’ve been looking for you, dork…you’re always hiding these days” she groaned out, which caused you to hum softly, giving her a slight shrug. “Been busy studying Els…I’m sorry” you tried, giving her a half smile.
Knowing that your studying was not the cause of the divide in your friendship, and neither was it you hiding.
She pouted softly, stepping forward so that you two could walk together. “I miss you…” She hummed out, staring down at the Nikes on her feet, nearly swallowed up by her baggy jeans. Her words make your heart tug as you stare up towards the large trees, swaying with the autumn wind, sun peeking in between the thick foliage of the leaves.
“How are you And Sof? Things going well?” You questioned, opting to ignore the way you heart beat faster when she said she missed you. You were also genuinely curious, you wanted to hear more about Ellie’s relationship, you wanted her to confide in you and trust you as anyone else would trust their best friend with their relationship.
Ellie instantly smiled bashfully at the mention of the girl, a soft hum leaving her lips as she nodded. “Fuck…she’s amazing, man. She’s like a fucking dream, I swear, I’m honestly not sure what I’ve done to deserve her” she sighed out, voice sounding so dreamy and love sick, you can’t help but smile.
“You like her…don’t you? I mean…you’re my best friend, your approval is one that’s pretty fucking important to me” she chuckled out as she looked over at you, head dipping down a bit to try and her a glimpse of your down casted face, her hands shoved into her pocket.
Her words make you hum, and you’re giving her a soft smile as you look up at her. Her expression is written with one that is concerned, concerned that you approve of her relationship, that you think she’s making the right move with Sofia.
And you know in that moment, you have the power to break it all. You have the power to rip things to shreds, just by telling Ellie you think Sofia isn’t the right girl for her, because you know she’ll listen to you. You know she’ll take your feelings into consideration, because she trusts you.
“I think she’s perfect for you, Ellie” you breath out, giving her a reassuring smile.
Because just as much as you know you have the power to be horrible, and rip everything away from them both, Ellie doesn’t deserve that, and neither does Sofia. They don’t deserve to hurt for the sake of your feelings, at the expense of what you feel for Ellie.
And the smile you see your best friend shoot your way makes it all worth it, because it’s like she’s been waiting for those words to leave your lips to go all the way, to give herself to Sofia completely and give into her as she wanted to this entire time.
“Fuck…you don’t know how happy that makes me” she sighs out, looking up towards the sky and letting her eyes flutter shut as she takes a deep inhale, and you know she’s truly happy.
And that makes you happy.
“Hey, are you busy next weekend? There’s a party Sof and I are going to, you should come with us” she says as she looks down towards you. You know it’s a bad idea, because it means you’ll third wheel the entire night, tucked away in a corner to avoid watching them make out all night long until it’s time to go home, where you’ll be just as miserable there as you are in your house.
But you know Ellie won’t take no for an answer.
You let out a soft sigh before you give her a nod, paired with a half smile, and she’s already cheering loudly, causing people around you to stare, and you groan softly as you give her a gentle shove, urging her to stop.
“I’ll text you the details! Sof and I will pick you up” she confirmed, and you give her a soft giggle before you nod. “Get out of here…I’ll see you then” you promise, and she’s smiling brightly as she begins walking away.
And despite the fact that it’s the first time you’ve talked to her in far too long, and it was mainly about her girlfriend, you can’t ignore the way your heart ignites for that small interaction on its own, and the excitement you feel knowing you have plans with her in the near future.
It’ll be fine, you remind yourself. It always has been, and it always will be. And with that, you made your way home.
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The following week, is when you met Alex.
You were making your way to your first class of the day, the early morning sun shining down on you, giving you only a bit of warmth from the brisk air that swirled around you and the other students scattered about within the large courtyard that served as a main point sprouting out to all other campus buildings.
Your eyes were trained on your feet, a habit you had that had caused you to run into many people, many times. It was an easy way for you to stay deep in thought, focusing on the way your shoes sounded hitting the pavement with each steps, watching as they crunched against leaves.
“Excuse me?” A soft voice broke you away from your locked gaze on your feet, your eyes blinking a few times as you looked up to figure out who it was that was trying to get your attention.
When you laid eyes on the person looking at you, you nearly passed out.
It was a girl, she was tall, with pretty eyes and a charming smile. Her jacket hung loosely on her shoulders, bag draped over one of her arms, a paper in one of her hands. Her features were strong, yet soft at the same time, mixing together both masculine and feminine and almost making your mind go completely blank as her beautiful eyes stared into yours.
“Um…could you help me? It’s my first day and I’m sort of lost” she chuckled out bashfully, her hand reaching up to run through her hair as she tried handing you the paper in her hand. You simply blinked a few times, watching the girl almost in awe as she stared down at you, before you realized you were in fact gawking at this woman.
You cleared your throat, giving her a quick nod before you giggled. “Yes! Yea…sorry..I…can I?” You question as you gestured towards the paper, which caused her to chuckle softly and nod as she handed it to you.
Your eyes scanned over the paper, furrowing a bit in concentration before you zeroed in on the first class she has in her schedule, and it made you smile.
“Oh, that’s where I’m going! You must be the new transfer student the professor was talking about” you explain, your heart beating a bit faster as you come to the conclusion that not only is this insanely hot girl speaking to you, but she’s also in your first class of the day.
She smiles brightly, pearly white teeth flashing your way as she raises her eyebrows. “No way…would you mind if I walked with you then?” She hums out, eyeing you carefully before you look up at her from the paper, giving her a shy smile as you nod. “I wouldn’t mind at all…come on”
You learn that her name is Alex, and that she was supposed to start the semester with everyone else, but there were issues with her documents so she had to transfer instead. The entire way to class, you take your time together, strolling along the pathways and hallways of your school, getting to know one another. You realize that although it’s your first conversation with her, you feel as comfortable with her as you do with…
As you do with Ellie.
When you realize that, you realize that you’d gone the longest without thinking about Ellie than you had in a long time. Alex takes her off your mind completely, because she’s pretty, and her smile makes you swoon, and being with her feels comfortable.
And you reckon you could get used to it.
When you both finally reach your classroom, there are students scattered about, waiting for the professor to arrive and for the lecture to start. You hum softly as you look over at your usual seat, turning around to look up at Alex. “I sit over there…there’s an empty right next to me if you want” you suggest.
The empty seat used to be taken up by Ellie before she started dating Sofia.
Alex smiles brightly as she nods before you can even finish your words, and that alone prompts you to grab her hand and drag her along through all of the seats to get to the two seats tucked away in the corner, the ones you used to look forward to making your way to almost every day that you had class.
When you two are settled, you fall into a comfortable conversation, your head resting against your hand as you listen to her speak. She tells you about her old school, about her favorite books and movies, her favorite music. You’re so caught up in the conversation with Alex…
That you don’t even notice Ellie walk into the room.
She walks in as she usually does these days, laughing softly at something Sofia said, her arm draped around the girls waist, keeping her close. Had it been any other day, she would’ve made her way down to the usual seats in the front that she has recently taken with Sofia, but the sound of our laugh quickly catches her attention.
At first, she realizes she hasn’t heard the loud sound in quite some time. The only thing she’d received from you in the small moments she shared with you were tiny giggles, or small hums, but never that deep, belly laugh that she loved so much.
Then, when she looks at you, head tilting back as you cover your lips, laughing loudly at something she was oblivious to, her eyes finally fall on the person your body is turned towards. A head of short hair and a leather clad, broad back is turned towards her, and suddenly Ellie is frowning.
Because that seat, is hers.
Ellie gives Sofias waist a soft tap, mumbling for her to wait for her at their seats as she presses a soft kiss to her cheek, green eyes never leaving you and Alex as she continues to make you laugh uncontrollably.
She doesn’t think about much, other than the annoyance she feels that someone is in her seat, regardless of the fact that she’d left that seat empty, leaving you alone for weeks on end. All she knows, is that she doesn’t like that someone is sitting in her seat, she doesn’t like that this is the first time she’s heard you laugh in weeks…..
And she sure as hell doesn’t like that it’s this mystery person that is causing that laugh in the first place.
“I know! I can’t believe you like that show too, I was convinced that-“ your words are cut off by the dark, looking presence that is suddenly hanging over you and Alex. It makes you frown softly, looking up to find a very angry Ellie standing in front of both you and Alex.
“Ellie? Hey! What are you doing here?” You question softly, unable to remember the last time you’d seen Ellie up there at those seats with you. The question is genuine, and for a moment you assume something might be wrong, but Ellie’s expression seems to be even more annoyed than when she first got there.
Instead, Ellie completely disregards your question, the girl annoyed with how innocent and genuine your words are, your big eyes blinking up at her with a twinge of worry as you await her reasoning for being there with you. She looks at Alex, her tongue pressing against her cheek before she nods her head towards the seat she’s sitting in. “That’s my seat” she deadpans, not leaving any room for argument.
Alex raises her eyebrows, staring up at Ellie before she turns to you for a moment, humming casually as she gives a half shrug. “I was told no one sits here anymore” she hummed out, staring up at Ellie in a challenging manner. It causes Ellie to scoff softly, rolling her eyes before she inhales deeply, and you know it’s because she’s trying to control her temper.
“Well I do, so you should find a different seat” she barks back, her tone progressively becoming more and more irritated with Alex. Alex simply chuckles softly, clearly taking Ellie for a joke as she sighs out. “Doesn’t have your name on it…so I’m not going anywhere” she finishes off, clearly done with the conversation with Ellie. Ellie raises her eyebrows, finally looking over at you as if to silently ask if you’re just going to let someone speak to your best friend that way.
And it annoys you to no end.
It annoys you because Ellie didn’t care about the seat for the past however many weeks since she’d been dating Sofia, you were sure it had been a good month at least, and suddenly she cares about it when someone is taking up the spot.
Taking up her spot.
You frown softly, staring up at your friend before you let out a soft sigh. “I think Sofia is waiting for you, Ellie” you try, giving her a slight nod as if to remind her that her girlfriend was in fact waiting for her down at the bottom of the sea of chairs. You hope it’ll clear her head, and whatever this sudden urge to come and check up on you with it. You see a flash of something ripple across her face, something you can’t quite make out for a moment, but once you do, it’s clear as day.
Betrayal.
She inhales deeply, eyes never leaving yours, only when they dart over to Alex. She wants to stay and say more, try to get the idiot next to you to sit somewhere else, anywhere else, but suddenly you’re turning your attention back to Alex, a soft smile on your lips as you fall back into conversation with her as if Ellie wasn’t standing right over the both of you. Ellie feels like she could burn a hole through the floorboards with how much it makes her seethe.
And the worst part is? She couldn’t even understand why it made her feel that way.
Soon, she’s stomping off like a child, down the stairs of the lecture room towards Sofia. She gives you an apologetic look from her spot at the bottom where she sits with Ellie, and it makes you so confused because why is she even looking at you that way? As if she was to blame for her girlfriends behavior? You give her a small smile back, and she turns around towards Ellie, her small hands rubbing the girls back gently as she bent her head down and pressed a soft kiss to her head.
You eye them for a moment, but your eyes don’t linger like they used to. You’re quickly looking back at Alex as she speaks to you, making you forget all about the very strange behavior your best friend just exhibited.
“Sorry about that…she’s…she’s great, I promise. I’m sure you two would like each other” you nod, giving Alex a reassuring smile. Alex hums in response as she looks down at Ellie, her eyes narrowing down at her for a moment before she nods. “I’m sure we would” she smiles out, and you can tell despite the rude interaction they just had, she’s genuine, and she seems to want to know more about Ellie.
But you save that for later, because you’d much rather get to know Alex than talk about Ellie.
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