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punkshort · 5 months

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i'll be home for christmas | part one

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Having just caught your fiancé cheating on you, you decide to come back home from the big city to Austin for the month of December to try to figure out your next step. You had no idea you would be getting more than you bargained for with the handsome single dad who built your parents' house.

Chapter Warnings: no outbreak, modern day but Joel is 40, language, fluff, flirting, reader has a childhood nickname only her family uses, Hallmark tropes up the wazoo, soft!joel, reader's sister is pregnant, talks of infidelity, talks of divorce, alcohol use, kissing, (smut in part two)

WC: 9.1K

A/N: this is my take on a cheesy, fluffy, soft, smutty, Joel Miller Hallmark Christmas movie. It's just sweet and silly and makes me smile, and I hope it does the same for you. I also wrote this in less than 2 days and didn't really edit it much, so sorry in advance if there's any errors.

Found the pic on Twitter but can't remember the source, if you know please send me a message and i will credit them

Series Masterlist

It was the second week of December as you stood inside the airport in Austin, Texas, waiting for your luggage to emerge on the conveyor belt. You thought by coming home early, you would have avoided the holiday traffic, but you were wrong. All around you, people squealed with excitement and embraced, dragging their worn out luggage behind them as they made their way out of the bustling airport. You tried to keep the scowl from your face as you watched, but it was next to impossible, so you wrapped your Burberry scarf around your neck instead, hoping to hide your displeasure.

This was not the plan you had for Christmas. You should be in New York in a high-rise apartment in front of a roaring fireplace with a glass of wine and your fiancé - ex-fiancé - not back in Austin with your parents, who begged you to come visit for the holidays after you told them the news.

Coming home to visit wasn't your favorite thing, but you felt guilty having avoided the holidays with your family for so many years, and you would have ended up all alone in the city anyway. So you caved, using up all the PTO you saved for the wedding, and took the rest of the year off from work.

Your designer luggage stood out like a sore thumb when it tumbled down the conveyor belt. You winced after watching the impact and snatched it up quickly. Glancing around, you saw a beacon in the storm: a familiar green, glowing sign in the distance - Starbucks. The line was long, but your flight was early, so you waited and got a latte, hoping it would lift your spirits a bit before you had to face your parents.

You tapped the side of your coffee cup anxiously as you rode the escalator down to the first floor, scanning the crowd for your mom and dad. There were a few people holding up signs with names on them, and when you saw the sign that said "Bucket" on it, you cringed.

Your dad's tall, round frame came into view when the people in front of him dispersed. He looked almost exactly the same, except a little greyer. Still sporting a shockingly full head of hair and his signature thick mustache, he grinned and pulled you into a warm hug.

"Really, Dad? 'Bucket'?"

"Well, that's what we call you, ain't it?" he said with a smile. You rolled your eyes and tried to be annoyed, but you had to admit that you were happy to see him.

"Where's Mom?" you asked.

"She's waitin' in the car, didn't wanna pay for parking so we're in a pick up zone, let's hustle," he said, wrapping his arm around you as he led you outside. "How was the flight?"

"Long," you said, then gasped when the cold air hit you. "Wow, I didn't think it would be this cold yet."

"It's been a cold one so far this year," he nodded, directing you to the left where you could see your mom smiling and waving from the passenger seat of their white SUV. You waved back and grinned. Maybe coming home wasn't such a bad idea, after all.

"Hiya, Bucky!" your mom said happily, leaning out of the window to give you a half hug while your dad loaded up your belongings in the back.

"Hey, Mom," you replied. "I like your sweater."

She was wearing one of her tacky Christmas sweaters that she wore every year - unironically. It amazed you how some things never change.

You climbed into the back seat as your dad carefully exited the parking spot and joined the line of cars that were slowly inching towards the main road.

"We're so glad you decided to come home this year, you can finally see the new house!" your mom said excitedly. They had built a brand new house, and the way she provided updates and pictures to you over the phone for the past year, you felt like you had already seen it.

"Yeah, can't wait," you said, staring out the window.

"Hope you don't mind, but we're throwin' a party tomorrow night," your dad said, glancing at you in the review mirror. "Wanted to have our friends over to see the place and have an early holiday party. They'll be so happy to see you, it's been so long since you've been home, Buck."

You had been hoping to spend most of the next three weeks in bed moping and scrolling on your phone. The thought of a party and seeing all those people looking at you with pity made your stomach turn. Your mom must have sensed your discomfort.

"It's alright, honey. They won't say anything," she said softly, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

"Okay," you replied, your voice pained as you opened your eyes to stare at the passing traffic on the thruway.

You'll make an appearance for an hour, and then try to sneak back upstairs until the party ends, already fabricating a headache to blame it on.

The house your parents built was impressive, even you had to admit. It was a two story colonial with four bedrooms and three bathrooms. The open floor plan was stunning as you made your way from room to room. The first floor alone had a spacious living room with vaulted ceilings, a kitchen with an attached dining room, and a separate family room off the back. There was even a small office by the front door that you missed the first time around, and a pantry as big as your closet back home.

You cringed at the thought, reminding yourself that it was no longer your home. That was part of the problem. You had moved in with Will, and when you discovered he had been cheating on you, you crashed at your friend Melanie's place. When you tearfully told your parents the news a few days later, they asked you to come home. Just for the holidays, your mom had said. Just to give you time to figure out your next move.

"This is beautiful, Mom," you said honestly, admiring the fine details on the cabinets.

"Thank you, sweetie. Took a long time, but Joel built it just right for us," she said, beaming.

"Oh, the contractor, right?" you replied, distracted now by the backsplash above the counters.

"He's such a sweet man, he was so patient with us when we changed our minds a million times over every little thing."

"Well, tell him he did a great job," you murmured, opening and shutting different drawers.

"You can tell him yourself, he'll be at the party tomorrow," your dad said, opening the fridge to scrounge for some snacks.

"You invited your contractor to your holiday party?" you asked in disbelief.

"Sure we did. We either saw him or spoke to him almost every single day for a year. He's a good man."

"Okay," you said slowly, still finding it a bit strange, but reminding yourself that things worked a little differently in the south.

"Bucket!" you heard your sister call from the front of the house. A smile plastered across your face instantly as you rushed to the door, both of you squealing as you wrapped your arms around each other and jumped in a circle, unable to contain your excitement.

"Cassie!" you said, pulling back to look at her, brushing her sleek, dark brown hair over her shoulder. "You look fantastic!"

"Ugh, I feel like shit," she said, and you laughed, glancing down at her barely swollen belly.

"How far along are you again?" you asked.

"Twenty weeks, but I'm ready for this to be over! I'm so tired all the time, it sucks," she said, flopping down on the couch in the living room after she gave your parents quick hugs.

"Where's Josh?" your mom asked, referring to your brother in law.

"He's still working, he'll be by later," Cassie said, waving her hand. "Gives us a chance to catch up," she added with a wink.

"You girls do that, we need to go to the store for tomorrow night. Do you need anything?" your mom asked, and you shook your head, eager for them to leave so you could be alone with your sister.

"Tell me everything," Cassie said the moment the door clicked shut.

If it were anyone else, you wouldn't have been in the mood to talk about the mess that was currently your life, but you've always been able to talk about anything with your sister. You trusted each other implicitly and there was no judgement, no matter if you had cheated on a test or gotten drunk during prom, you told each other everything.

So you did. You told her how for months, you felt like something was off with Will. How he would stay out late and say it was for work, but none of his work friends ever posted about going anywhere those nights on social media. He grew more distant and you tried to ignore your paranoia, but when he collapsed into bed one night, too out of it to wash up, and you saw the lipstick on his neck the next morning, you lost it. He hardly even tried to explain himself, barely even attempted to lie, and you began to think maybe he wanted to get caught. Maybe he wanted you to do the dirty work and end things so he didn't have to. Fucking coward.

"What a piece of shit. I never liked him," Cassie said when you were finished. "He acted like he was so much better than everyone when he was here, do you remember the comments he made about the wine mom had? It was so fucking rude."

"Yeah, I know," you agreed.

"So why were you even with him?"

"We had been together since college, Cas," you said, exasperated. "I knew him before he was like that. He used to be sweet and fun. Then he got that finance job and met all those assholes and he became just like them."

"Well, I'm just glad you didn't end up married before finding out what he's really like," she said, shifting her weight on the couch with her hand cupping her small stomach. "That would have been a huge mess."

"It's still a huge mess, I have no where to live now, and I can only couch surf for so long," you said, burying your face in your hands.

"You'll figure it out, Buck. I'll help you look for places online while you're here. Maybe set up some appointments so you can tour them when you get back."

"Thanks," you said, giving her a weak smile. "That would actually be great."

"Now, on to more important things," your sister said, slapping her palms against her knees to stand.

"Baby names?" you asked.

"No! Let's figure out what you'll wear to the party tomorrow," she said, wiggling her eyebrows. "I wanna look through all your fancy designer clothes."

You giggled and stood to join her.

"Fine, but I'm still dropping baby names while you look," you replied.

After spending a majority of the next day helping your parents decorate and prepare food for the party, you finally were able to excuse yourself to shower and get ready. Cassie had picked out a Ralph Lauren lace cocktail dress that Will had bought for your birthday last year. You slipped it on, running your hands over the fabric as you adjusted the dress in the mirror. Just because he bought it didn't mean you couldn't wear it again. You snatched the glass of wine from your dresser and took a sip, trying to push the thought of him from your head as you made your way downstairs.

Cassie and Josh were already in the kitchen, munching on appetizers and chatting with your parents. Cassie let out a low whistle when you entered the room. You waved her off and gave Josh a big hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Good to see you," you told him with a smile. "All ready for the baby?"

"Getting there," Josh replied, wrapping an arm around Cassie's waist. You tried to ignore the ugly, jealous pit in your stomach as he told you how the nursery was coming along. You wasted so many years of your life on Will. Your sister was already married and starting a family, and here you were, basically homeless and starting over. Pathetic.

Family friends slowly began to trickle into the house, luckily being whisked away by your parents to give them a tour after you meekly greeted them and hid back in the kitchen. As more and more people arrived, you began to wonder how your parents kept so many close friends when you barely had a handful back in New York.

A few kids raced by you in the kitchen as you made your way to the bar to refill your wine. Even though it was loud, you could still hear your dad's booming voice as he regaled a friend with a fishing story. You wandered around a bit, trying to find Cassie and Josh so you didn't look out of place, but stopped dead in your tracks when you saw them chatting with Mr. Tanner and his son, Troy, backing away before they could see you. Troy used to have the biggest crush on you when you were kids. If he found out you were single, you wouldn't be able to shake him all night.

You eventually found yourself alone, back in front of the snacks. You picked at the chips on your plate, not really interested in eating but hoping to avoid any awkward conversations, so you kept your eyes down, scrolling mindlessly on your phone. Apparently, it wasn't good enough because you felt someone sidle up next to you.

"Those any good?" a deep, unfamiliar drawl spoke from your side. You looked up to find the softest pair of brown eyes you've ever seen on a man. Blinking, you took a moment as your gaze raked over his patchy beard and the dark, tousled curls on his head. They looked so soft, you had to resist the urge to reach out and touch them. What was wrong with you?

"Huh?" you managed to squeak out after you realized you had waited too long to reply. Idiot.

"The, uh, chips," he said, pointing at your plate before rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh!" you said, looking at your plate, completely forgetting you even had it. "Yeah, they're alright."

He nodded and glanced around the room, unsure of what to say next. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"How do you know Paul and Martha?"

Distracted, you watched as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, stretching the fabric of his red flannel over his shoulders, pulling the material taught. You had to remind yourself to pay attention and stop gawking at this man like he was a piece of meat. Jesus, maybe you should stop drinking.

"They're my parents," you said after a moment, your eyes flicking across the room, finding them with a group of their friends with your dad's arm wrapped around your mom's shoulder as she giggled and gazed up at him adoringly.

"Oh, you're Cassie," the man said, his eyes dropping from your face to your stomach, and you swore you saw a glimmer of disappointment.

"No!" you said quickly, your hand subconsciously resting on your midsection. "That's my sister, I'm their other daughter." You told him your name and briefly explained you lived in New York and were just visiting for the holidays.

"They must be real happy, havin' you home for so long," he replied, and you shrugged.

"Yeah, it's been a while since I've come home for a visit. I was feeling pretty bad about that," you said, choosing to leave out the biggest reason you were there. This stranger didn't need to be burdened with your love life drama. "Besides, they were so excited to show off the new house," you continued, waving your arm around the room.

"Took us long enough, but it finally came together," he replied with a smile.

"Oh! You must be Joel," you said, realization finally dawning on you.

"Yeah, sorry," he said, shaking his head and stretching out his arm. "That was rude of me, don't know what I was thinkin'." His cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you shook his hand.

"My parents always have such wonderful things to say about you. The house is beautiful, I was blown away when I first saw it," you told him. "I especially love the little details on the cabinets."

"Thanks," he said with a soft smile, averting his gaze to look at the cabinet behind you. "I actually did that myself. It's kind of a hobby of mine. Closest to art I'll ever get, I guess."

"I don't think it's just 'close' to art, I think it is art. It's stunning," you told him, running your fingertips over the intricate floral design. "You're very talented."

"Well, thank you," he said sheepishly, rubbing his beard to hide his smile. You could see the blush creeping up his neck and you bit your lip with a grin, turning your head to try to give him a moment. Were you making him nervous? He was painfully good looking, could this guy actually be into you? Were you even interested? The break up was still so fresh and it had been so long since you've dated anyone besides Will, you hadn't even considered it yet.

"So, how long have you worked in construction?" you asked after a minute, discarding your plate on the counter to give him your full attention.

"Oh, my whole life. Me and my brother started the business when we were in our twenties. Only thing we were any good at, and luckily it pays the bills," he told you with a shrug, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "What do you-"

Joel's question was cut off by a young girl with curly brown hair in a red velvet dress bouncing up to him.

"Dad! Can Uncle Tommy take me outside so we can look at the pool?" she asked. Dad? You looked down when he pulled his hands out of his pockets, palming one of the girl's shoulders to quiet her down, and noticed the gold wedding band. Of fucking course.

"The pool? Sarah, it's freezin' out," Joel said, and she grinned.

"I'm not going in, Dad, I just wanna see," she said, rolling her eyes. She glanced over, noticing you for the first time, and smiled. "I really like your dress," she said.

"Thank you," you said, running your hand down the fabric. "I like yours, too."

"Uh, yeah, that's fine. Just make sure Uncle Tommy sticks with you, alright?" Joel relented, and she clapped her hands gleefully before running off again.

"She's cute, how old is she?" you asked him, looking around the room to see if Sarah had run back to a woman who could be Joel's wife.

"She's sixteen," he said, eyeing you carefully. He hadn't thought this far ahead and hoped he wasn't scaring you off.

You turned to him, startled, having guessed she was younger.

"You must have had her young," you said, the words slipping out before you could catch them. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that like it sounded-"

"No, it's alright," he said with a chuckle. "I did. I'm forty."

You nodded and took a sip from your glass, letting your eyes drift away, rethinking your conversation. Maybe you misread him and he was just being friendly. There was no way he would be flirting with you at a party with his kid right there. But then he cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him.

"Listen, I hope I'm not bein' too forward, but are you here with anyone?"

You raised your eyebrows at him over your glass. There was no misreading that. Blinking rapidly, you tried to formulate a reply that wouldn't cause a scene. Was he seriously hitting on you with a ring on his finger? You put your glass down on the counter and opened your mouth to reply when your sister's voice interrupted you.

"Bucket! Come here, you remember Troy, right?"

You cringed, at both the nickname and the person in question, before slowly turning your body towards her and forcing a fake smile.

"Of course. How are you?" you said with a hug.

"Doing great, just got a new job with a law firm downtown," Troy said, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans and shifting his weight nervously. He began to ramble about his new job as your sister introduced herself to Joel behind you. You resisted the urge to strangle her, reminding yourself she was carrying your baby niece or nephew and that you'll have to wait until after she gave birth to kill her. She knew you couldn't stand Troy, but she probably couldn't get rid of him, either.

You stood there, draining your wine glass while he prattled on for the next twenty minutes. By the time Troy's dad walked over and ushered him away, Joel was nowhere to be found.

Probably for the best, anyway. You were getting really sick and tired of only attracting unfaithful men.

You hadn't considered how annoying it would be to have your parents hovering around you all the time, worried that you were slipping into a depression and trying to get you to join them on activities outside the house. After you felt forced to go sledding with them the day before, you decided to make yourself scarce today, which is why you found yourself at the mall in downtown Austin browsing for a Christmas gift for your future niece or nephew.

As you were looking through a storefront window, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Taking it out, you saw a text from a friend back home.

Sydney: You'll never guess who i just bumped into

You were typing out your response, chin tucked into your chest, when you felt someone knock into you. Startled, you looked up only to lock eyes with Joel the contractor.

"Oh!" you managed to stammer out. His deep brown eyes lit up and a warm smile spread across his face when he looked up and recognized you.

"Sorry, wasn't payin' attention," he said. "How, uh, how are you?"

"Good," you said, nodding and clutching your phone in your hand. "You?"

"Good. Was actually just thinkin' about you," he admitted, looking down and shifting the bag he was carrying from one hand to the other. "Never got to say goodbye to you the other night."

"Yeah, it was pretty crowded. I didn't realize my parents were so popular," you joked. "Is Sarah with you?"

"No, she's in school," he replied, and you bumped the heel of your hand against your forehead, rolling your eyes. Of course she was, it's the middle of the day.

"Duh," you said quietly, finding it hard to hold his gaze without getting butterflies, so you looked away.

"So, uh, I hope this doesn't sound creepy, but I asked your sister if you were seein' anyone the other night," he began, and you felt your face instantly heat up. Why didn't Cassie warn you?? "-was wonderin' if I could get your number."

"Huh?" you asked, your eyes widening as you tried to control your breathing. You glanced down at his hand again when he looked away and saw he was definitely wearing a ring.

"Thought we could go out sometime? If you're interested?" he asked, his own nerves wreaking havoc as he shifted his weight and chewed on the inside of his cheek, praying his face wasn't as red as it felt.

"Are you serious?" you asked him, narrowing your eyes. The audacity of some men!

"'Course I'm serious," he said with a nervous smile. "Thought we hit it off the other night-"

"Joel, listen. I'm not going to say what I'm really thinking for the sake of my parents and everything you did for them, but I am not interested in dating married men," you said with a scowl. He frowned, giving you a confused look before you turned on your heel and stormed away, joining the crowd of Christmas shoppers bustling by.

He looked down at his hand, making a tight fist before swiveling his head around, trying to locate you in the crowd before he lost you.

"Hey, wait!" he called out, pushing past clusters of people as he jogged to try and keep up with you. He called out your name as he got closer. You stopped suddenly but didn't turn around, causing surprised shoppers to have to redirect at the last minute to avoid running into you.

"Hey, I'm sorry-"

"You should apologize to your wife!" you said loudly, causing a few people to turn their heads in your direction as they walked past. Joel looked around nervously.

"I'm not married," he clarified quietly. You looked down at his hand again and he flexed his fingers.

"Can we get a coffee or somethin'? And I'll explain," he begged, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each second that passed as you considered your answer. "Please."

"Fine," you agreed, and his face relaxed once again.

You sat down at a coffee shop within Barnes and Noble as Joel ordered you both something to drink. As you watched him at the counter, you admired his long legs and broad shoulders underneath his brown coat and wondered what possible excuse he was going to come up with.

Oh my god, what if she died?

You rubbed your eyes, hoping you didn't just insult a widower in the middle of a crowded mall.

Joel joined you at the table and set your coffee down in front of you with a smile.

"Thank you," you said softly, fiddling with the cup and avoiding his eyes as he shrugged his coat off, revealing a navy blue V-neck sweater underneath. Your eyes drifted to the small patch of bare chest that was exposed and your stomach clenched. Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to meet his gaze, but he was staring down at his ring finger.

"I'm not married anymore, just wanna make that crystal clear," he began, still staring at his ring.

"Okay," you said slowly, waiting for him to continue. He sighed.

"We've been divorced for a few years now," he said, finally looking at you. "It was... hard. Really hard. I, uh," he scratched his beard as he struggled to find the words. "I've had a tough time lettin' go. Thought for a while we might get back together, so I didn't take it off. Then I guess I just got so used to it, I never thought... I'm sorry, I sound like a mess," he said with a sad smile.

"It's alright, I think I understand," you told him, and he looked at you with renewed optimism, encouraged to continue.

"I never took it off because I never thought 'bout askin' anyone out til now," he said. "Didn't realize how that would come across, you just took me by surprise that night and I couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you."

You blushed and looked down at your coffee, trying to hide your smile behind your cup, but he saw it and grinned.

"Are you still in love with her?" you asked him. You didn't want to get wrapped up in something that would end up hurting you in the end.

"No," he said firmly. "I mean, I'll always care for her. She gave me Sarah, how could I not? But I'm not in love with her anymore."

You nodded as you absorbed his words, glancing around the little coffee shop before dragging your eyes back to his. He was looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to ask anything else that would make you comfortable with accepting a date from him.

"Well, thank you for being honest with me, but I'm not sure I'm ready for a relationship just yet."

Joel tried to hide the disappointment in his face as he nodded in understanding. The first time in five years he asked someone out and he got shot down.

"It's not you," you clarified. "It's bad timing. I just got out of a really long term relationship. Well, I was actually engaged, and I caught him cheating," you explained with a wince, not expecting to bring this up today. "Probably why I was so sensitive about the wedding ring," you said with a half smirk. He nodded quietly and looked down at the ring on his hand, twisting the metal around with the pad of his thumb as you spoke.

"Sounds like we've both been through a tough time," he murmured, and you quietly agreed.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping your coffees and trying to figure out how to end this awkward interaction without making things worse. You were going to lie about having plans so you could leave when he suddenly spoke up.

"No pressure, but, uh, what if we just went on one very casual date?" He looked at you with those soft, brown eyes and you felt your resolve crumbling. "Sounds like we could both use some practice. You're leavin' at the end of the month anyway. Could just be fun, help get us both back out there."

You paused, not expecting that. He had a good point. It's been so long since you've gone on a date with anyone, and it sounded like he was just as rusty. Besides, what else would you be doing with your time over the next three weeks?

"Okay," you agreed softly. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, parting his lips slightly as he straightened up in his chair.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you said with a grin. "Why not?"

Early the next morning, you heard your phone buzz on the nightstand next to your bed. With a groan, you cracked an eye open to look at the time, then reached for your phone.

"7:30? Who the hell..." you grumbled, squinting at the bright screen, your eyes widening when you saw Joel's name. You sat up in bed, fully awake now, and slid the notification over to open the text.

Joel Miller: Morning. Are you free tonight?

You grinned, flicking on your light so you could see better to respond, then you paused. Should you make him wait before replying? Would you look too desperate if you answered right away?

You shrugged, deciding to answer him. It was casual, you both knew it wouldn't go anywhere, so who cares how it looked?

You: Good morning, you're up early! And yes, what did you have in mind?

You chewed your thumb nail as you waited for his answer.

Joel Miller: This is nothing, I've been up since 5. For some reason, clients expect me to be at job sites early. How about ice skating?

You giggled and tapped out a reply.

You: I'd love to!

Joel Miller: Great - I'll pick you up at 7

Realizing you forgot to reply to Sydney the day before, you switched messages and shot her a quick answer before sliding back down under the covers to scroll on your phone.

You resisted the urge as long as you could - a whole fifteen minutes - before you typed Joel's name into Facebook. His name popped up with two mutual friends and you rolled your eyes. Of course your parents were friends with him. Clicking on his name, you scrolled down his page, tapping through photos of him and Sarah that looked out of date. He didn't seem like the type to update social media often, and his page reflected that hunch. He didn't have many pictures so it didn't take long until you scrolled all the way to the end, presumably his first photo from when he joined. It was a grainy picture of him with a huge smile and his arm slung around a woman with dark, curly hair, just like Sarah's.

She was pretty, you couldn't deny that, and you vaguely wondered why they broke up. He made it sound like he didn't want a divorce, and you figured he would have mentioned cheating since you brought it up.

You closed the app. If Joel wanted to tell you, he would.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you made your way downstairs on the hunt for coffee. Pouring yourself a cup from the machine, you burrowed into the couch, wrapping yourself in a blanket as you waited for your coffee to cool down and flipped through the various streaming services your parents subscribed to.

"Hey Buck, you're up early," your dad said as he descended the stairs and headed to the coffee.

"Hey, Dad," you said, taking a sip from your mug and wincing as you burned your tongue.

"What're you up to today? You wanna come to dinner with your mom and me?"

"Actually, I have a date," you told him, bracing for the reaction.

"Whoa-ho! Been here not even a week and you got yourself a date? Don't tell me... Troy?" he asked with a big grin, sitting down at the other end of the couch.

"Ew, no!" you said, scrunching your nose. "It's, um, Joel," you said quickly, taking another sip from your mug.

"Our contractor?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, we met at the party," you told him. "Then I ran into him at the mall."

"Ran into who at the mall?" you heard Cassie's voice from down the hall.

"When did you get here?" you asked as she rounded the corner and gazed at your coffee enviously.

"Just now. Who did you see at the mall?"

"Joel," you said, glaring at her. "Got something to tell me about that?"

"Oh, yeah," she said, wiggling her eyebrows. "He was asking about you at the party. I made sure to let him know you were single."

"Yeah, he told me, thanks for the heads up, by the way," you said. "We're going out tonight."

"I didn't realize he was single, I just assumed he was married because he's always got Sarah around," your dad said, beginning to zone out to the movie that was on the TV.

"He's single," was all you said, picking your phone back up.

"He's cute," Cassie said, and you blushed. "I'm glad you said yes, mom and dad already love him, so he'll fit right in."

"I don't even live here. It's a casual thing, we're just hanging out," you told her.

"Yeah, okay," she said, giving you a wink. You rolled your eyes and pinched her as you passed by.

"I'm going to shower, then maybe you can help me pick out something to wear," you told her over your shoulder, walking back upstairs.

Joel arrived at your parents' house promptly at 7, just as he promised. He pulled into the driveway, checking his hair in the review mirror quickly before sliding out of his truck and making his way up the porch. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this nervous as he glanced down a the green flannel he wore, praying he didn't miss a button or a stain. He was with his ex for so long that he could barely remember a time when he was nervous around her.

But with you, he felt the butterflies the moment he saw you at the party. You didn't notice him at first, but he saw you enter the living room and freeze in the doorway, your eyes locked on someone across the room before backing out the way you came, as if you were looking to avoid them. He couldn't catch who it was, having hardly known more than five people in the whole house, but he felt compelled to follow you. To see if you were maybe looking for a husband or boyfriend. But when he saw you alone in the kitchen, staring down at your phone, he couldn't stop himself from saying something to you.

Joel never did things like that. He always kept to himself, very quiet and reserved. He was content with his work during the day and hanging out with Sarah at night.

For the most part, he was happy. It was only at night when the loneliness crept up, when he tucked himself into his big, cold bed and tried his best to fall asleep as fast as he could, so he wouldn't lay there wishing someone who cared for him was just in the bathroom washing up.

Tommy had been encouraging him to get back out there, always offering to watch Sarah if he caught Joel looking a little too long at a waitress or a neighbor. Sarah was old enough to be on her own for a few hours, but he still asked Tommy to stop by, anyway. Maybe part of him wanted his brother to know that he was going on a date, if only so he would stop trying to set him up all the time with women he had no interest in.

Joel reached out to ring the doorbell, cringing when he noticed it was one of those camera doorbells. Paul must have installed it after the house was finished. He heard heavy footsteps on the other side of the door and held his breath, realizing he hadn't thought about your dad's reaction to your date.

Paul swung the door open, greeting Joel with a deep scowl as he leaned up against the doorframe.

"What's up, Joel?" he asked. Joel cleared his throat.

"Hey, Paul. I'm here to pick up your daughter," Joel replied, bracing himself. Paul just stared at him, breathing deeply as he looked Joel up and down. Joel wasn't a small man, but Paul had at least sixty pounds on him. He tended to have an intimidating look until you got to know him.

"Oh, yeah? For what?" Paul asked, clenching his jaw. Joel froze, wondering if there was a reason you didn't tell your parents about tonight, unsure what to say. Finally, Paul's face broke into a huge smile as he began to crack up, doubling over at the waist.

"I'm sorry, Joel, I had to," he wheezed, standing back up and clapping Joel on the shoulder. "Couldn't help myself. Come on in," he said, still laughing as he led Joel down the hall and towards the kitchen.

"Jesus, Paul, scared the shit outta me," Joel admitted, his heart racing as he rubbed his forehead.

"Beer?" Paul asked, and Joel shook his head.

"No thanks, I'm drivin'," he replied, and Paul raised his eyebrows with a nod.

"Good man, passed the first test," he said with a wink as he twisted open a beer for himself. "Hey, uh, in all seriousness, I just wanna talk with you before she comes down."

"Yeah, 'course," Joel replied, leaning up against the counter.

"I ain't sure what she's told you about the asshole she was with before, but he really hurt her. Now, I know it ain't got nothin' to do with you, what's in the past is in the past," he said. "But just keep that in mind, will you? I can't stand seein' my little girl hurt like that again."

Joel nodded solemnly, understanding completely.

"I ain't like that, I'll be respectful, I promise," Joel replied. "Besides, we both know she's goin' back to New York in a few weeks. We're just gettin' to know each other, is all."

"Yeah, she said the same thing to her sister earlier, but then she spent all damn day on the phone, pickin' out an outfit and gettin' herself ready," Paul said with a sigh. "I'm just sayin', be careful with her."

Joel felt a flutter in his chest and tried to hide his smile when he found out you had been thinking about him all day. He was glad he wasn't the only one.

"I hope you weren't waiting long," you told Joel as he backed out of your driveway.

"Not at all," he said with a smirk. "You're worth the wait. You look beautiful." He glanced down again at the light pink sweater with a small designer logo he was unfamiliar with in the corner.

You blushed and bit your lip, quietly thanking him and trying to hide your reaction behind your scarf, but he saw it. He always does.

Now that he knew you were looking forward to this date just as much as he was, he felt a little more confident.

"Did you have a good day?" he asked, giving you a sideways glance as he merged his truck into traffic.

"Yeah, did you?"

"It was alright," he said, slowing the truck down at a stop light. He turned to face you now. "Couldn't wait to see you, though."

You turned a darker shade of pink and he smiled, pleased to see that he could elicit that reaction from you, the same way you do to him.

"So, ice skating?" you said, trying to take the heat off of you. You looked at his hands on the steering wheel, noticing he made sure to take his ring off.

"Yeah," he said, pressing his foot on the gas as the light changed. "Thought you could teach me somethin'."

"Teach you? How do you know if I can even skate?" you asked teasingly.

"Just a hunch. Was I right?" he replied, his mouth turning up into a half smirk. You giggled and he felt his stomach tighten. He needed to hear that again.

"Yeah, you were right," you relented. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth and slapped the steering wheel in victory, making you giggle again, and his chest filled with warmth at the sound.

"Where's Sarah tonight?" you asked him as he pulled into a parking spot at the skating rink.

"My brother's watchin' her," he replied, disappointed that you got out of the truck so quickly. He had planned on opening the door for you.

"Does she like to ice skate?" you questioned as he led you inside to the counter to rent your skates.

"Oh, of course she does. But I usually sit it out and just watch her have fun," he said, picking up your rentals and heading over to a bench.

"You should have brought her, I wouldn't have minded."

"We don't have to talk 'bout her, you know," he said quicky, and your fingers froze over your laces.

"Why wouldn't we talk about her? She's your daughter," you asked slowly, straightening back up to look at him.

"No, I know. What I mean is, I know it ain't every woman's fantasy to go out with a single dad and all the baggage that comes with that. So, if you don't wanna talk about her, I get it," he said, casting his eyes down as he focused on tying his laces. You reached out a hand and gently placed it on top of his, immediately making him freeze at your touch.

"She's part of your life, so I want to hear about her. You shouldn't think like that, Joel. It's really not a dealbreaker for most women," you assured him, gently rubbing your thumb over his knuckles, his eyes glued to your hand as he listened. "And if it is, fuck 'em."

His eyes snapped up to yours now, then a slow smile spread across his face.

"Okay," he said softly, and you smiled, pulling your hand back, leaving him wanting more.

"Besides," you said, standing up on your skates as you made your way to the rink. "You have no idea what kind of fantasies I have."

You turned to give him a wink as you effortlessly stepped out onto the ice, holding out your hands encouragingly for him to follow. It was a miracle he was able to move his legs after that comment, but he managed just because he knew he would feel your warm hands on his again.

Joel was a quick study. He was nervous at first, you could tell that he didn't want to embarrass himself, but he did surprisingly good. Especially considering how crowded the ice rink was and how fast people were skating by. After about half an hour, he was able to skate - albeit, slowly - around the rink next to you without any assistance. Part of you wondered if he pretended to need more help than he really did just so it would make you feel good.

"So, anyway, that's basically what I do for work. It's pretty boring," you said with a sigh.

"Not boring. Marketing in New York City sounds like a dream," he replied.

"Yeah, except I work on all the behind the scenes stuff. It's not really as fun as it sounds," you admitted, not missing work in the slightest since you've been back in Texas.

"Well, d'you work with some fun people, at least?"

You paused, considering his question for a moment, before shaking your head with a dry laugh.

"Not really," you said, but he still tried to help you find a reason why you would put up with it.

"You were able to take off almost a whole month, that's pretty great. Not many places'll let you do that, can't be that bad," he offered, and you scoffed.

"It's the time I saved up for the wedding I was supposed to have," you told him sadly, and he groaned.

"I'm knockin' it outta the park tonight, ain't I?" he said, rubbing his face before almost losing his balance. You giggled and he couldn't stop the huge grin that plastered itself across his face.

"It's fine, you didn't know," you said, waving him off. And for the first time, you really didn't mind talking about it. Something about him made it easier.

"What'dya say we get some hot chocolate?" Joel asked, jutting his chin towards the vendor where you first came in.

"Yeah, that sounds great," you replied. Joel turned towards the exit without looking when a teenage boy, who was speed skating around the rink trying to impress a girl, smacked right into him, sending him flying backwards on the ice.

"Joel!" you exclaimed, rushing to his side. He groaned, rubbing the back of his head.

"Hey, why don't you watch it!" you yelled angrily at the teenager, who had managed to only stumble a bit upon impact.

"Sorry, man," the kid mumbled before taking off.

"I'm gonna kick his ass," you said, about to stand up to go after him, but Joel reached up to grip your arms, holding you in place.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," he said with a chuckle. Sweetheart. Your heart skipped a beat at the term.

"Are you sure?" you asked, your brow furrowed with concern.

"Yeah, just gimme a hand," he said, and you stood to give his arm a firm yank, allowing him to stand.

"Let's get you off the ice," you told him, ushering him carefully to the exit and finding a bench.

"Does your head hurt?" you asked, sitting down next to him. Your fingers reached up to graze the back of his head.

"No," he said breathlessly, staring at you as you continued to study him for any injury. God, you were so beautiful, he couldn't force himself to look away.

"That's good. How about your vision?" you pressed, still so focused on the fall and not seeing the way he was looking at you. But when you finally locked your eyes on his, your breath caught in your throat.

All the laughter and playful yelling surrounding you faded. You couldn't look away from his heated gaze, his deep brown eyes boring into yours so intensely, you almost forgot to blink. He brought his hand up to gently cradle the side of your face, his calloused palm meeting your soft skin. Your lips parted to accommodate your sudden need for more oxygen, and his gaze fell to your mouth.

"Joel," you whispered, and the way his name sounded coming from you was so damn sweet, it almost did him in.

"Yeah?" he whispered back, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Kiss me."

He didn't need to be told twice.

He leaned forward, eyes sliding shut and slotting his lips against yours, deeply breathing in your scent so he could remember it tomorrow. He was determined to commit every second to memory, knowing that by morning he would be aching for you, aching for this. Against his better judgement, he pressed himself into your lips harder, unsure if he will ever get to feel like this again when you inevitably came to your senses. The idea of this feeling being taken away from him spurred him on, desperate and eager for every second you were willing to give him.

Your hand came up to the back of his neck, holding him against you as his lips massaged yours tenderly. You inched closer to him on the bench so you could tuck yourself into his broad chest. He was so warm and soft and strong that it was making you dizzy. Your fingertips stroked the curls at the base of his neck as you tentatively opened your mouth just enough to suck his lower lip between yours. The quiet noise he made when you did that made your insides clench with need, and against all odds, you felt yourself falling, completely losing yourself in him and the moment.

A startling voice over the loudspeaker announcing that the rink was closing in fifteen minutes finally snapped you out of it. You both pulled back but kept your foreheads pressed together as the world around you slowly melted back into focus. His hand still cupped your face and he lifted his thumb to gently trace your swollen lips.

"I should take you home," he murmured. At first, your stomach flipped, thinking he meant his home, but you realized he wasn't that type and he meant your parents' house.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and you sat back reluctantly, breaking away. His hand dropped from your face to the hand in your lap, his thick fingers wrapping around yours for a moment as he collected himself with a deep breath.

Finally, he forced himself to stand, still clutching your hand and helping you up. You glanced down at the floor and smirked.

"We should probably take our skates off," you said, and he chuckled, breaking the tension and sitting back down, his hand reluctantly letting go of yours to undo his laces.

After you turned in your rentals, his hand quickly found yours again, unwilling or unable to let you go as he led you back to his truck, this time making sure to open the car door for you. Thanking him quietly, you jumped up into the cab and watched him round the front of the car, running a hand through his hair and sucking in deep breath.

You grinned and bit your lip as he started the truck, swinging his arm around to grip your headrest and twisting his body to back out of the spot. It took everything in you not to scoot across the seat and tuck yourself into his side.

He let his arm drop loosely on the seat in between you as he drove down the street, one hand on the steering wheel. Your fingers inched forward, sliding your palm underneath his hand, lacing your fingers together. The corners of his mouth tugged into a smile and you drove in a comfortable silence, your hands intertwined the whole time, until he pulled into your driveway and cut the engine.

You sighed as you stared at the darkened house, already missing him and he wasn't even gone yet. He peered over at you, trying to think of a way to prolong the date, but aside from the obvious, which he wasn't going to do just yet, he was coming up empty.

"Lemme walk you up," he said finally, and you nodded, reaching for the handle of the door but he stopped you. You furrowed your brow, confused, until you watched him rush over to open the door, and you grinned, taking his hand so you could slide out of the seat.

You stared at the ground as he led you up the path to the porch, your heart pounding in your ears. You weren't sure what you had been expecting tonight, but it definitely wasn't this feeling. This was so much more.

"Well, thank you for tonight," you said as you reached the door, turning around to look up at him through your lashes. "I had a really good time."

"Yeah, me too," he said, his soft, brown eyes trailing over your face, locking away every little detail. Unable to resist, he stepped forward, his rough hand skimming around to the back of your neck. He tilted your face up, ducking down slightly to meet you halfway and brushed his lips gently over yours.

Your hands flew up to grip the collar of his flannel, keeping him pressed against you as you leaned against the front door. God, for someone who claimed to be rusty, he was a really good kisser. He was gentle and slow and it took your breath away both times. You knew you were getting in over your head, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. All you could think about was him and how badly you wanted more.

Nervously, you opened your mouth and flicked your tongue against his plush lips. He responded by parting his lips and allowing your tongue to dance with his own, his mouth applying more pressure than before as the heat flared between you.

Before you could stop it, a soft moan rumbled from your throat, causing him to pull back, panting slightly as his gaze flickered between your eyes. You gazed up at him, eyes dark and desperate, your fingers still gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly.

You weren't sure what he was searching for, but after a moment he seemed to find it because his mouth came crashing down on yours once again, this time with more yearning and desire. His tongue probed inside your mouth, licking past your teeth and in the back of your mind you realized he tasted faintly of mint and you wondered when on earth he popped a mint into his mouth but it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered except the two of you in that moment, each seeking something within the other that you never expected to find.

His chest ached knowing he would have to stop kissing you soon, or else he would never leave. He always considered himself a strong man, after everything he had been through, how could he not? But something about you made him realize he wasn't nearly as strong as he thought. Your lips were so soft compared to his, so sweet and perfect that it made him want to cry because in that moment, he knew he could never let you go.

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shotmrmiller · 5 months

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A/N: This was supposed to be a small thing cuz i inhale toxic ex's like air but here we are.

Thinking of a toxic ex!Simon that you broke up with almost a year ago. You wanted more than what he was willing to give you— unbelievable fuck aside— and you were just gonna get hurt in the long run. So you ended it.

What hurt the most was how he didn't even try to put up a fight. He just stood in front of you, as impassive as ever.

"If that's what you want." He shrugged.

And that was that. Ever since then, you've focused on yourself and your job. Meaning no dates, no get-togethers, nothing. Just work and lonely nights with a glass of wine. That he hadn't reached out once in all this time certainly rubbed salt on your wounds.

Now you're here. Out with a group of friends at a bar, after being borderline guilt-tripped into coming. A couple of mango martinis in and you're approached by a handsome fellow. Curly, brown locks and sun-kissed skin.

"Can I buy you another one, lass?"

"Sure. I'll never turn down a free drink."

He chuckles and his smooth laughter sends a shiver up your spine. As he turns away to get the bartender, you flick your eyes at your friends. They're giving you cheeky smiles and thumbs up.

Rolling your eyes with a smile, Mr. Handsome comes back with your drink before saddling up next to you on a bar stool.

"So what's a beautiful bird such as yourself doing all alone here?"

"I've been locked up for too long. Needed a change of scenery. And I gotta say, the view's quite nice."

He grabbed the back of your stool and dragged you a little closer to him, before tilting his head to the side— emerald green eyes half lidded and slightly covered by his curly hair.

"Is that right? I gotta say I also like what I'm seeing." Moving his hand from the padding of your stool to hook onto your hip, he says, "How about we move to a more private setting? Do you live nearby?"

He'd be the first guy since Simon that you've shown any interest in. You weren't ready for a relationship yet, but a distraction wouldn't hurt. And his staggering good looks certainly helped his case.

Nodding, you take out your phone from your purse to text your friends that have somehow disappeared when it vibrates, so you unlock your screen.

Take him home and I'm slitting his throat.

You flinch and look around wildly in a panic. Where is he?

"Hey, are you alright?"

Your phone vibrates again and you swallow hard before opening the text.

If his hand doesn't remove itself from your body, it'll be coming off of his.

You squeak before aggressively removing yourself from the stool, tripping over your heels. You weren't as sober as you'd like to be. The guy tries to stabilize you by grabbing your wrist but you jerk yourself away from his grip.

"I uh, I have somewhere to be." You toss on your jacket over your shoulders before running towards the front door and into the cool, rainy night.

Bzzt. Another text.

Good choice. I'd have hated ruining your nice purple comforter. It's one of my favorites.

You turn your body, doing a 360, eyes aimlessly looking for the ghost of your past life, when your phone rings. You frantically press the answer button.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?"

You hear him tsk. "I'd lower that tone of yours, love. I don't appreciate being spoken to like that," he says condescendingly.

Sighing, "I'm allowing you to continue this delusional 'break' of yours, but my patience runs thin. No one is allowed to touch you but me."

Your heart beats viciously at his audacity and tears start running down your cheeks. In fear, in relief or in anger, you don't know.

"Don't cry, doll. You should've known you'd always be mine. Now go home. I'll keep you safe."

Hanging up, you do as he says, wondering how long he's been keeping tabs on you— haunting you. You make a note to yourself to check your flat for cameras.

#cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost simon riley #be fr how mad would yall REALLY be???#toxic simon for LIFE #drabble

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imnameimswrld · 23 days

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. . . ⵌ ׄ ۪ 𝐒𝐍𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐋 ¹ ׄ ⑅ MV1 ‌˖ ֺ ᰮ

— DESCRIPTION ੭ in short, you're done standing back when mr verstappen thinks he can push around your boyfriend like he wants.

— PAIRING ੭ max verstappen x gf!reader.

— FILE ੭ imagine.

— DISCLAIMERS ੭ 🔞 mdni, suggestive content, language, light mention of verbal abuse, max's parents are still together and he's dad's a total ass, also (currently) unedited.

❪ main masterlist | f1 masterlist | max verstappen masterlist ❫

━━━━━━━━━━❪ 🖤 ❫━━━━━━━━━━

Dinner was going so perfectly; aside from the lovely food, you too indulged in all the hilarious and adorable stories Mrs Verstappen had been so vibrantly been dishing out for you. Max was red in the face with embarrassment, your hand comfortable in his as he caresses it in his lap.

His siblings would join in on the conversation whenever they saw the opportune moment to shut down whatever lie their brother concocted on the spot to try and get himself out of a playful scolding from his mom, and it all just warmed your heart to see how happy he seemed in the moment.

But then, someone just had to speak up from his quiet spot at the head of the table and piss all over his content mood.

"Max, meet me outside for a drink. I'd like to talk to you."

To the ears of a stranger Mr Verstappen's words would sound like a simple request, to which Max could easily decline and just continue sitting in the comfortability of his family. However, you've been around for long enough to recognize that tone; it's no request.

It's an order.

His father stands, wine glass in hand, and steps away without another word as he leaves towards the back door. Once he's gone, a shivering silence settles over the table. His siblings look everywhere but their brother, Mrs Verstappen all but sighs softly and starts to clean up the table, and Max stares done at your hand in his.

"Max," you start, tightening your grip. "Just, stay here," you try, and when he looks up with a small smile that does nothing but claw at your heart, you try another tactic. "Or let's just go home. We can have some ice-cream, watch that weird documentary you're you're obsessed with, I can even-"

"I'll be only a few minutes schatjie, then we can leave, okay ?" he rubs over your hand, probably hoping it would ease your racing your heart.

It doesn't.

"Max," you begin again, hesitant eyes watching as he rises from his chair beside you and gently places your hands in your own lap.

"Help mom clean up, will you please ? I'll be back in a minute love." you want to protest yet again, but nothing comes out of you parted lips when he places a kiss to the crown of your head, before walking away, softly shutting the sliding door to the backyard behind him.

Taking a breath, you try to calm yourself as you stand to help Mrs Verstappen with clearing the table. You try your best to focus on anything else, but knowing that all his father is doing right now is being mean and belittling his son is gnawing at your insides in a way that has molten hot anger simmering in your gut.

Everyone in Max's family are such lovely, kind people – and then you get his poor excuse of a father.

You don't even realise you have the ends of the table cloth balled up in your molded right fists until there's a sharp poke in your ribs. Turning, you gaze meets eyes that so closely resemble Max's, it almost always makes you smile.

"Go." Victoria nods her head towards the back door, and you momentarily look back, before meeting his eyes that match the worry you feel inside.

It's just one word, but it holds all the emotions she's feeling and with hos strong they are, it gives you the green light. With a short nod, you turn on your heel and take long, determined strides towards the glass door.

When you open it, it seems your disrupt the conversion at just the right moment.

"She's going to become a distraction, Max. All you've worked for and currently working towards, is going to be for nothing."

"I sorely disagree, sir."

The two men's heads whirl at the sudden entrance of your voice, and the confidence that colours your face has Max weak in his knees, feeling as if he's falling in love with you all over again.

His father's spine straightens at the sight of you as you join Max by his side, his arm instinctively coming up to rest his hand at the small of your back.

"This conversation does not concern you, Ms L/N."

You hum once with a bitter smile. "From what I heard, Mr Verstappen, it seems as it does."

He locks his jaw, hand tightening around his wine glass so harshly you think it's just seconds from shattering in his hand.

"Max, I've told you to keep this one in check before she-"

"Do not speak of her as if she's not right in front of you, Jos," Max's gaze darkens to the blue of the bottom of the ocean, and it has your insides curling in pride.

He only ever truly gets upset when his father disrespect you, otherwise he just stands quietly to entertain the nonsense coming out of his mouth, knowing he'll soon leave and enjoy all the true love you shower him I'm everyday later.

"And quite frankly, I like my girlfriend exactly how she is," he smirks, fingers massaging the revealing skin of your back from the cropped shirt you were wearing. "Snippy tongue and all."

It's true, you smile; he especially loves it when you have that same tongue down his throat, or wrapped around his cock.

It seems Max has that same thought in mind, because despite his father's furious gaze staring down at him, he can't seem to rid the naughty smirk from hid face, his hand now sliding down to fall into your back pocket.

He squeezes once, and you bite down on your tongue to keep the moan back.

"Now, if you're done trying to convince me what a failed son I am, I'm going to head home with my snippy-tongued girlfriend." he pats your jean-clad ass one softly, before pulling his hand to wrap his arm around your waist.

"Dag Jos. Ik hoop dat ik je blijf irriteren, het is mijn favoriete spel ( Bye Jos. I hope I continue to piss you off, it's my favouritesport !) !" you wave your fingers in an obnoxious manner, smile so sweet you hope it rots every damned tooth in his shitty mouth.

Max's deep, honey-draped chuckle rings in your ear, his voice low in the most pussy-wetting manner. "You know what you speaking Dutch does to me, schatjie."

Batting your eyelashes, you smile. "Oh, ik weet het (Oh, I know)."

A gravely groan resonates from his throat, his bany blues trained down on your glossy lips. "Ik kan niet wachten om je te neuken (I can't wait to fuck you)."

━━━━━━━━━━❪ 🖤 ❫━━━━━━━━━━

✍: I might be writing a part 2, but that one will contain smut soooo if you're not into reading that, don't ! ♡ ... but if you arrreeeeee, hehe, stay tuned 🎀.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #mv1 x reader #mv1 imagine #mv1 fic #mv1 x you #mv1

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 7 months

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Kinktober (3)- Age Difference

Wanda X Reader 18+

Summary: Separated from the rest of the group, you and Wanda find the perfect opportunity in the kitchen to have some alone time.

Warnings/Tags: SMUT MDNI, Mommy Kink, Oral and fingering (W receiving), Power Bottom Wanda, Implied cheating

Kinktober Masterlist

"Uh I don't think so young lady," your aunt, Natasha, says teasingly, taking the glass of wine you just picked up out of your hand. She simply raised her eyebrow at you, taking a sip herself of the drink as she watched with fake glare.

"Oh come on Nat," you grumbled, leaning back into your seat as your aunt chuckled at you, Wanda also laughing at the display. "Surely I can have one drink ," you stare at her with your best puppy eyes, hoping that even though you're an adult she'll give into the oldest trick in the book.

"You can have a drink when you're twenty one," she says with no room for challenge in her tone, yet you decide to try anyway, what's the worst she can do? Pour it on you?

"Please, everyone else is drinking," you motion to Wanda and Vision who sit together on the couch, Maria who sits in an arm chair and to Yelena who is casually sipping her beer while on her phone, most likely texting her girlfriend Kate. "And I'm basically twenty one, It's only two months."

"Well if it's only two months, I'm sure you can wait," she takes another large sip to taunt you, smirking over the rim of the glass as you groan in annoyance at her. "Also everyone else here is at least over twenty one."

"More like over thirty," you grumble, earning a real glare this time. "Fine," pushing yourself to your feet, you start heading towards the kitchen, "I'll go get myself a drink suitable for a twenty year old." You hear a chorus of laughter and shake your head while making your way through the house.

When you arrive at the kitchen you head straight to the fridge hoping to find something to drink and take back to the group. You frown when all you can see are juice boxes and groan when you remember this is Wanda and Visions house so everything is catered for children. Mumbling a small, "Fuck it," you grab two blackcurrant juice boxes and place one on the counter top while stabbing the straw through the other. You got lost in your thoughts as you moodily drank one of the twins drinks, jumping when a pair of arms wrapped around your middle.

"Hey Detka," she whispers into your ear, body flush against your back. "Enjoying the drink?" she teases making you groan once again, turning in her hold to face her. You stare up at the older woman, admiring her features as she smiles softly at you. Your mouth opens to make a snarky remark but your voice dies down when you feel her hands drift towards your ass and face lower, her lips now ghosting yours. "How about I give you something that tastes a lot better than any drink you can have?" she rasps out, accent delicately wrapping around her words.

"What about Vision?" you murmur, losing yourself in her darkening green eyes.

"He's too busy telling the others a work story," she slowly turns the two of you around, her now leaning against the marble countertop of her kitchen. "So?" one hand cups your jaw, tilting your face upwards to look at her better, "Do you want to make Mommy feel good?"

You lean forward to capture her lips, groaning at the lingering taste of alcohol on her lips and move your hands to hold her waist. You feel her tongue slide over your bottom lip, not hesitating to part your lips to allow her tongue to slide in and dominate your mouth. You groan into the kiss when her hands move up your body, one resting casually on your neck.

"We don't have time to play Detka," she murmurs between kisses before pulling back, "Be a good girl for Mommy and kneel." You practically drop to your knees at her sultry voice, staring up at her with lust-filled eyes as your hands slowly creep up her legs. When you reach the hem of her skirt you stop, the silent question in your eyes answered when she nods and threads a hand through your hair. Swiftly, you lift the skirt so your head can meet her core and groan quietly to yourself when you see she's not wearing any panties, her arousal dripping from her.

"Fuck Mommy, you're so beautiful," you mutter while place a few kisses on her thighs before leaning forwards to lick a stripe up her core.

"Shit Detka," she moans quietly, hands gripping the countertop till her knuckles start to bleed white. "Do you know how turned on Mommy was when she saw you earlier?" her voice breathy as she tries to control her volume, your tongue swirling over her clit not helping her stay quiet. "I was so tempted to drag you into the bathroom and have you on your knees like now, fucking me with that perfect little mouth of yours." You groan into her pussy at her words, one of your hands raising to her core so you could tease her entrance with your fingers. At the same time, you suck hard on her clit and thrust a finger into her, one of her hands clamping over her mouth to muffle the moan that erupted from the back of her throat. "That's it Detka, you're making Mommy feel so good," she praises quickly before placing her hand back over her mouth as you curl your finger inside her.

Your tongue continues to swirl around her clit as you add another finger into her, thrusting both digits into her mercilessly as you're addicted to the sound of the muffled moans echoing around the room.

"You taste so good Mommy," you murmur before pulling your fingers out, earning a low groan in response before a choked moan when you thrust your tongue into her. You relentlessly thrust it into her while your fingers go to her clit, circling it in time with the way you curl your tongue inside her to have her legs shake slightly as she supports herself with the countertop.

" God Detka, " she groans out, "Right there, fuck I'm gonna come." You feel her clench around your tongue, legs trembling by your head as her orgasm washes over her. You moan into her when you feel her cum coat your tongue and help her ride out her aftershocks by slowly circling her clit. Her hands gently push you away when she gets too sensitive, you sitting back on your feet as you look up at her with a dazed smile, her arousal all over your mouth. She pulls you up by the collar of your shirt and crashes her lips to yours, moaning into your mouth at the taste of herself. "Good girl," she praises one last time before she lets you clean your face off with a washcloth and tidies her appearance up.

"How's the drink coming along?" Natasha says while Maria wraps her arm around her middle, both of them holding empty wine glasses as they stroll into the kitchen. They pause in their tracks when they see you with a straw in your mouth, your hand holding the other juice box as you finished the first, while your cheeks seemingly flushed with embarrassment.

"Oh my god!" Maria exclaimed while Natasha burst out into laughter, placing down her glass so she wouldn't drop it. You scowled as they started to tease you for drinking a child's drink, defending yourself as best you could but to no avail. You grumbled under your breath before turning your gaze to Wanda who had a soft smile that lessened your bad mood.

You made your way out of the kitchen to avoid any more teasing but stopped at the door of the living room when Wanda grabbed your hand.

"Meet me later for your reward, you were such a good girl for Mommy."

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda fanfic #marvel fanfiction #wanda x you #eventual smut #mommy wanda #wanda maximoff x female reader #smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #mommy k1nk #kinktober #risky #wanda maximoff oneshot

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darby-rowe · 5 months

Text

୨⎯ "inches of snow" ⎯୧

young!coriolanus snow ☓ fem!reader summary your boyfriend, coriolanus snow, joins you and your family for christmas dinner, but of course it's nothing short of an insufferable experience. but don't worry, because coryo is there to take care of you!

18+ | nsfw | mdni word count 2,298 cw modern au, coryo & reader are in grad school, it's christmas!!, mentions of food, implied body shaming by family, uh oh grandma and grandpa are being bigoted again, bathroom sex, mirror sex, anal, praise, degradation, sex on the bathroom sink, it's a very anal christmas, coryo has a big dick, ooc(?) coryo, y/n usage, petnames, unprotected sex, spit play, cum play, dirty talk notes i know the title is corny as fuck LMFAO but it made me giggle. also imagine reader in ellen griswold's outift from national lampoon's christmas vacation like the one w the blouse and the green skirt bc mmmmm that fit is FIRE. this fic was slightly based off of this post bc i thought it was just too hot to ignore. this is also NOT proofread so any mistakes you find in this fic... dont talk about it

Sitting down at the pleasantly decorated dining room table, your mother insisted on saying grace before you and the rest of your family could dig in on the splendid feast you and the rest of the women in your family worked so hard on. Your mouth watered at the thought of savoring the sweet potato casserole, the baked macaroni and cheese, the ham, everything at the table was extremely decadent. And it was all displayed out in front of you, and right under your nose.

You were a bit greedy, you had to admit, as your hands were the first to get a generous scoop of the fluffy mashed potatoes, earning a scoff from your ever-so lovely paternal grandmother. Say something, you old bat, you thought to yourself, but a pleasant hand came running to rescue you from your angry thoughts. A slight squeeze on your left thigh made you blush, and you turned your head to grin at your lovely boyfriend, Coriolanus Snow. He gave you a reassuring nod, and you went back to indulging in your Christmas feast.

“So, Y/N,” your grandmother piped up, pretentiously swishing her glass of wine. “Anything interesting as of late?”

You swallowed your forkful of mashed potatoes and peas. “My third year of med school is kicking my butt,” you said, trying to lighten the hostility between you and your grandmother. “I’m definitely finding myself to have less and less free time–”

“And how do you feel about that?” your grandmother interjected right in the middle of your response, causing your brows to furrow. Her attention was now fully on Coriolanus, which you turned your head to see what his response would be.

Coriolanus huffed amusingly. “I don’t necessarily have an opinion on it,” he said. “I am also quite busy with my master’s degree. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, or however that saying goes,”

“We’re just busy little bees,” you said in a light manner, albeit a bit awkwardly. “It’ll all be worth it in the end. All this hard work will pay off,”

Your grandfather motioned his glass towards Coriolanus. “Busy little bees, eh? Bet it’s harder on you than her,” This statement made you nearly choke on your champagne. The crudeness of that man! Oh, if you didn’t know any better, you would reach across the table and slap the wrinkles off that smug face–

“It’s actually not really that hard to endure,” Coriolanus spoke up. “We both know we’ll see each other again after our busy spells and that thought keeps us going,”

You smiled bitterly at your grandfather. “Exactly,”

The table got quiet after that, and you spent a good few minutes awkwardly sipping your champagne and eating your generous plate. You felt your appetite unfortunately begin to dissipate as the unpleasantness of the evening began sinking underneath your skin.

“You know, mother,” your father chimed in. “My wife and I both met during our residency, and you know firsthand exactly how busy I was during that time. The 100 hour work weeks, the skills labs, the exams, my boards. It was hard! But my beloved and I made it through, and I’m sure Y/N and Coryo will also make it,”

“I just don’t see the need in investing this much time in such a demanding career when your husband is already planning on pursuing a career that would help the both of you,” grandmother said to you, making your face contort into one of immense displeasure.

“Coryo is not my husband, first off,” you retorted. “At least not yet, but I’m also not going to be a stay-at-home mom who spends her days dealing with the dog, the baby, and the garden. I want a fulfilling career, too! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against stay-at-home mothers, but that life is not for me,”

“Why not?” grandmother knitted her eyebrows together. “Look at you, dear, with that revealing blouse and that pretty face, you don’t need to be pushing yourself like this,”

“Oh my god!” you cried, throwing your hands up. You finally decided you had enough, and with bitterness deep within your soul, you abruptly pushed your chair away from the table and stormed off.

“Watch your mouth, young lady!” your grandmother called out after you. “You weren’t excused!”

“I’m twenty-five years old, grandma, I can excuse myself,” you replied angrily as you traversed upstairs, your heels clicking on the hardwood material.

Slamming the door to the bathroom, you made your way to the bathtub where you sat down on the cold tiles with your knees folded up against your chest. You buried your face in your hands as you breathed in and out. In… and out…

God, you really hated your father’s parents. So judgy and crude, you were only left to wonder why they kept getting invited over to these dinners. Your parents knew how they chastised you, and even with their efforts to put a stop to their bigoted comments, they just kept going and going and going.

You were proud of yourself. You were proud of the life you were building for yourself. Sure, you still had eight years of school left, but at the end of the road you were going to be a kick-ass trauma surgeon. And Coryo was on the fast track to earning his master’s in political science. Soon, he would be running for congress, and the two of you would be unstoppable.

But here you were, practicing breathing exercises on the cold tiles of your parents’ bathroom. You needed to move out of there. Anywhere but there.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door and the sweet sound of a familiar voice on the other side. Coriolanus, looking as handsome as ever as he gently let himself into the bathroom, joining you on the floor.

“Hey, bunny,” he cooed, taking your hands in his. “Are you okay?”

You grinned dreamily. “Now that you’re here,” this remark elicited a chuckle from Coriolanus, which made you swoon. “Listen, I have to apologize for my family,”

Coriolanus shook his head. “There’s no need to apologize,” he reassured. “You do not have to say anything. You’re not responsible for their actions, not now, not anytime,” he took your hand and kissed the back of it. “Now, how may I make my sweet girl feel better?”

It didn’t take long before the two of you were on each other like two cannibals competing to see who ripped off the other’s flesh first. Your lips crashed and molded into each other as your warm, wet tongues shoved down each other’s throats in desperate attempts to taste the other’s mouths. Coriolanus tasted like the champagne you planned on indulging yourself with later that night, feeling your mind buzz on the remnants of the alcohol. It ignited your nerves on fire.

It took your breath away when Coriolanus spun you around and pressed you against the bathroom sink, forced to look at the reflection. “Look at you, baby,” he panted, his lips red and swollen from the intense kiss he shared with you just seconds ago. “So fuckin’ pretty and fuckable. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry,”

You looked at your reflection in the mirror, your eyes scanning the pathetic, needy look on your face. You gasped slightly as Coriolanus grabbed your jaw, preventing you from looking away. “I want you to look while I fuck you,” he said, pressing his hardened bulge into your backside which made your eyes slightly roll back into your head. “I know that pussy of yours is throbbing for me, hm? Is it, bunny?”

You opened your eyes and looked at the blush that was beginning to appear on your cheeks. “Mmm’yes,” you whined. “Want you so bad, please. But we have to be quiet. Can’t let my family hear us,”

Before you could say anything else, Coriolanus’s hand slapped onto your mouth making your gasps and breaths all muffled. “There’s a solution for you, my dove,” he murmured into your ear. “Now, here’s what I’m going to do: I’m going to remove my hand and pull up that pretty little skirt of yours. Then, I’m going take off your panties, then fuck you in the ass. Am I clear?”

You and Coriolanus have indulged in anal before. It wasn’t a common occurrence, but it surely wasn’t unwelcome. Your pussy throbbed with anticipation at the thought of Coryo’s throbbing, hard cock in your tight asshole. You nodded, and he removed his hand from your mouth and cupped it in front of your lips. “Spit in my hand,” he ordered, and you drooled a generous amount of saliva into the palm of his hand.

You could hear his wet hand stroke himself in prep to enter you. With your skirt hiked up and your panties gone, you made sure to relax and breathe as you felt Coriolanus push the tip of his cock into your ass. Your efforts to stay quiet flew out the window as a primal, low groan escaped your throat as your ass became full of his dick.

“Fuuuck…” you groaned, hiking your leg up on the bathroom sink to allow Coriolanus to go deeper. God, it felt so fucking good having his dick deep in your ass. So dirty, and so fucking hot.

In a matter of moments, Coriolanus was thrusting his hips hard and deep inside you, making your mouth fall open in a silent cry of pleasure. You resorted to quiet curses and panting to help you express how good you were feeling in that moment. Goosebumps erupted on your skin. There was a slight sting to being penetrated in the ass, but it wasn’t painful to you. In fact, it only added to the overwhelming pleasure building in your nether regions.

“Such a tight fuckin’ ass,” Coriolanus murmured, grabbing your jaw once again. “Look at you, bunny, so fuckin’ needy for this cock in your ass, yeah?”

You had to be quiet. You needed too. But by god, the sound of Coriolanus speaking pure filth in your ears was insatiable. “Yes,” you growled through gritted teeth, your eyes flicking between your face and Coriolanus’s. “Fuckin’ love your cock in my ass, fuck,”

“Such a naughty girl,” he teased, taking a look down to watch his dick pump in and out of your hole. The sound of your panting and groaning mixed with Coriolanus’s grunts, slightly echoing throughout the bathroom.

You whined as you felt him withdraw from your hole, only for him to spin you around once again and help you on top of the bathroom counter. You willingly spread your legs and watched as Coriolanus re-entered your ass before withdrawing completely once more, and then he repeated these actions again, and again, and again.

“Stop teasing,” you whined, reaching a hand down to play with your pussy only for Coriolanus to swat your hand away, much to your dismay.

Coriolanus pinned both of your hands behind your back. “No touching. You’re going to come from my cock in your ass or you won’t come at all,”

You nodded obediently, your body rocking back and forth in time with his thrusts. You could feel your pussy drooling its juices from how unbelievably aroused you were. It was almost uncomfortable how badly your clit ached to be touched, but you wanted to obey your boyfriend’s orders, so you held back.

“My naughty bunny,” Coriolanus moaned. “Your ass is so tight around my cock. Feels so good. You’re making me feel so – fuck – so fucking good,”

Your mouth fell open as your panting grew more frequent. “Yes, fuck my ass,” you whispered. “Make me come from my ass, baby, please,”

“Are you close, love?”

“Yes, yes – fuck,” you threw your head back as moans threatened to escape your throat, your pleasure only heightened as Coriolanus pressed open-mouthed kisses all along your neck. You were about to come undone from just having his cock in your ass, and it was going to feel so, so good.

“Coming,” you mewled, your legs beginning to shake and the familiar feeling of an itching pulsation deep within your pussy. “Oh god, I’m coming from my ass. Fuck… fuck…!”

In an explosion of pleasure that made you see stars, your orgasm hit you like a truck as your juices gushed out of your pussy. You squeezed your eyes shut and gritted your teeth as it took every fiber of your being to not scream out in pure ecstasy. You continued to squirt all over yourself and Coriolanus’s cock. There was no doubt in your mind that your skirt was ruined.

Coriolanus withdrew from your hole to pump on his own cock until thick, white ropes hit your hole. The sound of his moans and groans pleasantly filled your ears. Your legs were still shaking, and you felt your breath nearly get knocked out of your lungs as you felt his shaft re-enter your ass, fucking his cum into you.

It took a good five minutes before the haze of your orgasm left your brain and you were able to think clearly again. You still sat on the kitchen counter as Coriolanus softly kissed your lips, praising you and telling you how good of a job you did.

“I love you,” you mumbled against his lips, holding his face with your hands.

You felt Coriolanus’s lips tug into a smile. “I know you do, my dove,”

It impressed you how well you cleaned yourself up as you prepared to join your family once again, but as you opened the door of the bathroom, your blood ran cold as you found your older sister waiting outside with a disappointed look on her face.

“Really?” she asked. “During dinner?”

God damnit.

don't be shy, let's talk. ♡

#coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x reader smut #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #tbosas #asks open #ask me anything #darbyrowe.doc

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fadingdaggerr · 13 days

Note

first off, omg I absolutely love your writing. You're literally my favorite author on here. Second, the pictures you choose for each one shot are *chefs kiss*

Moving on from that, I was wondering if you could do a melissa schemmenti one shot inspired by the song "casual" by chappell roan, and with a happy ending? or the song "red wine supernova"?

I've been meaning to do it myself but I so don't have the time or motivation right now😭

and now? (18+ minors, dni)

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: melissa craved you, you craved melissa. what you crave from each other seems to differ depending on the season, based on both casual and red wine supernova by chappell roan. | 6.1k

includes: angst!!, fluff, no pronouns/gender mention for r, emotionally constipated mel and r, self sabotage from r, happy ending

warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamics, alcohol consumption (minimal), marijuana use (minimal), verbal fighting, afab reader (no mention of breasts in ref to r), smut throughout (oral, fingering, toy use, mel and r receiving), lots of praise

translations: sfigata (italian - loser), τουαλέτα (greek - restroom - pronounced too-ah-leh-tah)

note: on this episode of “sol complains about their inability to write under 4k words and then immediately writes 6k+” N E ways. the goal of this was to sort of have mel's perspective be carried by red wine supernova and reader's perspective to be more along casual. thank you for trusting me with your prompt/idea, i'm very honored <3

The moment she saw you, she knew she had to have you.

Tipsy at a housewarming party, uninterested in everyone around her, Melissa almost calls it a night. She only agreed to be here because Shauna said ‘a small get together,’ not ‘having half of Philly in the kitchen alone.’ Weaving through the room, she attempts to find someone she knows to say goodbye to, but her search is halted by yelling from the foosball table.

In the living room, Dominic is accusing someone of cheating. At foosball. Amused, she walks further into the room to watch, seeing Dominic miss the ball too many times to not be an effect of alcohol, and he groans towards the ceiling.

He angrily spins the handles he’s holding, jostling the table, “stop fucking cheating, dude!”

“I’m not fucking cheating, dude,” the other player responds, laughing through the answer. Hiking it onto her tiptoes, Melissa peeks over shoulders to see you, a little grin on your face that also drops the joint hanging from your lips.

“Bitch, yes you are!”

Without a second to even blink, you push the rods in your hands forward, hard, making the metal ends roughly hit Dom’s hip. Leaning over the table, you blow smoke towards his face with a sarcastic smile, “don’t call me a bitch. Thought you knew better, Domi?”

“Yup,” he responds through a wince, “yup, wasn’t thinking. Sorry.”

Through a chuckle, you take another hit from the near-roach, eye flicking up at the sensation of being watched intently. Red hair sticks out in the crowded room, green eyes sticking out more. Subconsciously, you do a once over of her, meeting her eyes.

Voices, music, the people around you, they all faded away. All you saw was Melissa. All Melissa saw was you.

Your whole body goes on autopilot, trying to get you to her as quickly as possible. Dominic tries to get you to play another round, an attempt to redeem himself, but you wave him off, not taking your eyes off the object of your attention as you snub out the joint against the game table. It takes borderline shoving almost everyone out of your way before you finally get to her. Any thought of leaving early flies out Melissa’s brain, disappearing as you enter her orbit.

It’s all a blur from the center of the living room, to the back of it, to the locked bathroom with you on the counter. How she got here, she doesn’t know, nor care. All she can focus on is your hand gripping her hair and the taste of you on her tongue. The blessing and curse of music beating through the wall fills her ears, thankful it covers the moans coming from you for any partygoers, but angered she can barely hear them.

Melissa can’t dwell much when your thighs begin to shake around her head, the hand not in her hair was nearly clawing the wall. From the whines that she manages to hear through thigh-shaped earmuffs and bass boosts, she can tell you’re close, the bucking into her mouth quickening with the motion of her tongue. Melissa’s alternating of figure-eights and sucking on your clit is your downfall, struggling to contain the loud groan that desperately wants to rip from your throat.

Languid motions slow, making you squirm from overstimulation before you’re pulling her back up to your lips. You almost give right back in when you feel her groan against your lips, tasting yourself on her as she dominates the kiss, all teeth and tongue. She was addictive, your new drug of choice, one you don’t want to let go of soon.

Melissa leaves the party with your number in her phone, and your taste imprinted on her tongue.

—☽—

Melissa can’t even wait two days before she texts you, just saying it was her, chewing her thumb as she waits for a reply. Eight minutes and three seconds later, not that she’s been silently counting or anything, her phone buzzes.

hey beautiful. was wondering when i’d hear from you.

You were at her door within a couple hours, almost running over your coworker as the workday ended.

The first month of this arrangement, this is all it is. Melissa texts you a simple Are you free tonight? and you show up at her front door, grinning as she pulls you in by the collar of your shirt. She rarely takes her time with you, immediately sucking at sensitive skin and cupping your sex through your underwear, dragging her teeth down your throat. Moans and whining coming from you only spur her on. You barely make it to the couch before her fingers are working their way inside you.

It takes weeks before you can contain yourselves enough to make it to her bedroom, though your clothes are scattered from the front door to the stairs, Melissa’s black thong caught on the bannister. An altogether miracle you even make it onto her bed.

The redhead has a damn near obsession with eating you out, bold hands holding you down as you squirm, groaning into you as you grind into her face. It’s the first and last thing she does every time, before she kisses you goodbye, all soft and sweet. The two actions are so wildly different, rough and dominating followed by gentle and caring. How could one not become a fiend for the attention only she can provide?

Another month passes, and it’s almost routine. Melissa calls, you run. Melissa says jump, you ask how high. Melissa tells you to take off your shirt, it’s off before she finishes her sentence. Melissa gets you off, you leave before you’ve even caught your breath.

The expectation of you leaving drops one night when she catches the dazed, sleepy look in your eyes one night. For the first time, she lets someone spend the night. With her arm around your waist, you speak quietly into the air, “would you wanna go on a date sometime? A real one, I mean.”

Her arm retracts from your body, turning to lay on her back, “c’mon, baby. That’s not what this is, we agreed.”

Suddenly, you’re glad she’s not pressed against you anymore, breath uneven, “yeah, yeah. You’re right. Nevermind.”

You don’t bring it up again. She doesn’t try to hold you again. Your visits include dinner and wine before she dines on you and coffee before you leave in the morning, but nothing more. It tastes bitter in your mouth.

Four months in, and you find yourself splayed across her couch with the redhead buried between your thighs, fingers making sparks roll through your core. Hard knocking broke through, both of you stare at each other with wide eyes. A second round of knocking throws you into motion, scrambling to put your jeans back on, Melissa hurriedly cleaning her fingers with her mouth. Just before she opens the door, you stop her to fix her hair, immediately turning back to throw yourself on the couch.

When Melissa opens the door, all you hear is, “took you long enough.”

“Fuck d’ya expect showing up unannounced?” Melissa matches the annoyed tone of whoever’s at the door, moving aside to let them in. Blond and tall with the same Schemmenti resting-murder face. This has to be Kristen Marie, the ‘sfigata ass sister’ Melissa mentions from time to time.

“The hell are you?” The blond looks at you, no attempt to hide the judgment behind her eyes. A quick glance to Melissa, who’s glaring back, tells you to lie. You introduce yourself only as one of Melissa’s friends, the mention of knowing Shauna, however, seems to make Kristen less defensive. A sigh of relief leaves the redhead, you hadn’t been caught. A sigh of disappointment leaves your own lips.

Weeks later, Melissa’s phone rings while you’re both chopping vegetables for dinner. She mutters an apology as she pauses your conversation, showing you the contact Mama on the screen. You pretend to zip your lips with a little grin, going back to chopping the bell peppers she tasked you with.

“Hey, Ma,” Melissa says into the phone as she puts it between her ear and shoulder, freeing her hands to chop the onion. “Nah, just making dinner. I can’t stay on long, I got company,” she bumps your hip with hers, laughing at whatever her mother says before answering, “no, weirdo, not that kind of company… I’ll ask, hold on.”

Putting her phone to her chest to cover the speaker, she asks, “my mother would like to know if you’re a complete freak?”

“Contextually, yes and no,” you say, reveling in Melissa’s bursted laughter, “but tell her no.”

“No more than I am, Ma,” she says when she brings her phone back to her ear, pinching your ass as she stifles a laugh while her mom keeps speaking. The hand around your heart has pink acrylics.

In the passing months, a change you weren’t expecting comes, and you hope that if you don’t acknowledge it, it will stay this way. An undercover Eurydice.

Most nights, Melissa barely let you get out a greeting before you were pinned against the door, lips on your, hands roaming under your shirt. Some nights she was slow, gentle, loving almost, taking her time and kissing every inch of you. Those nights made it hard to separate the feelings you have from the ones she dances around talking about.

There are other days though, your favorite days. Ones like tonight, where both of you are exhausted and just want to no longer exist to the world. Instead, you feel as though you’re in your own world out here on her back porch. You peek over at Melissa as you take a hit from a joint you packed before driving over, eyes closed, Melissa doesn’t see you.

Watching closer than you should, your eyes stay on her as she moves to take a sip of the Cabarnet you bought only for her. The way her lips kiss the glass, how she licks her lips to never waste a drop. If she asked, you’d gladly kiss away rogue droplets of wine. She’s beautiful, truly beautiful. She knows it, but she doesn’t really believe it, always rolling her eyes when you mumble it against her thighs. You wish you could tell her whenever the thought crossed your mind, every time you look at her. Exhaling, you turn away, mouthing a silent fuck to yourself. Bringing the J to your lips, you try to keep from being caught.

Melissa’s head drops, propping her chin on her shoulder with droopy eyes, “can we just sleep tonight? ‘M slipping into a coma over here.”

You chuckle, copying her pose, rose-tinted eyes flitting over her, “sounds great.”

For the first time in five months, Melissa holds you as you both fall asleep in the center of the bed.

You love these nights, ones where you can pretend Melissa is just as much yours as you are hers.

A cruel, ten month anniversary gift of sorts comes in the form of a friend in the hospital cafeteria.

Your phone pings where it sits in your scrub shirt pocket, your chest tightens.

Melissa: I’ll be home around 6, if you’re free tonight.

The grin on your face is not unnoticed by your friend as she sits back in front of you. Shauna taps the table to get your attention, “that your girl?”

“She’s not my girl,” you mumble, typing out a reply to Melissa.

when am i not free for you?

Shauna scoffs, speaking under her breath, “like you actually think that.”

You place your phone back on the table with a little force, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s just using you, honey,” Shauna blurts, “you’re at her beck and call, and all she wants is sex. And I know you, that’s not what you want.”

“And what do I want, oh wise one?”

“Her,” she replies. “I’ve known you too long to not know that you’re in love with her. I’ve also known Mel long enough to say that she is going to break your heart.”

You kiss your teeth, “what do you know about what Melissa wants?”

Shauna doesn’t appreciate your defensive attitude, so she gives you the hard truth, “she said this whole thing is just casual. Pretty stress relief, I think were her exact words.”

You are stress relief, nothing more. Another ping.

Melissa: See you then baby.

—☽—

When you arrive on Melissa’s doorstep, you desperately want to turn and run, save yourself before you feel any more. The equally desperate need to be near her knocks for you, but when she answers, you can barely meet her gaze. Green eyes flick from your face to your wringing hands, pink lips shifting to a frown.

“What’s bothering you?” Melissa asks gently, locking the door behind you. When you shake your head, struggling to kick your shoe off, her arms wrap around your waist, chin on your shoulder. She feels you stiffen, pouting to herself, “I know something’s wrong, you look like Eeyore in torrential downpour.”

You huff a laugh and lean against her, “just… stress.”

“Hmm,” glossy lips press to your neck, soft and slow, “want me to get rid of some of that?” The feeling of her hands on you is so convincing, it overrides what you know you should do. Turning in her arms, you press your lips into her and let her take control.

Her mouth wraps around your nipple, thumb slowly torturing your clit as her fingers work you through your third orgasm. From the twitch of your hips, she knows you’re at your limit, carefully removing her fingers from you. Greedy hands tug at her, pulling her to your lips as you flip your bodies, straddling her hips. Traveling down, you delight in her whimpers as you suck at her skin, leaving behind marks comparable to the wine she loves.

Your hands spread her legs, taking your rightful place between them. Sensual, slow, loving kisses down her soft stomach, all leading to where she needs you most. Her hips buck as you get closer to her center, breath tickling her pearl. With a flat tongue, you fulfill her wish, licking a stripe from the base of her slit to her clit, moaning into her. Hands harshly grip your hair, tugging when you suck on her clit. Your own hand slides from her strong thigh to her plush breasts, toying with her nipples as you devour her.

Husky pants draw from her throat, pitchy whines breaking through when your fingers begin to toy with her entrance. Neither of you care about the phone ringing from the nightstand. All you can hear is hoarse moans of oh god and please, faster, all you feel, taste, and smell, is Melissa. You both peer to the nightstand when it rings again, desperately trying to ignore it. A second finger enters Melissa as her attention falls back on you, her eyes meeting yours as she moans, fueling your desire.

A third ringing of the phone almost makes her scream, and tapping your shoulder with vigor to stop you before the phone is forced to ring again. You quickly, and gently, retract your fingers, allowing Melissa to shakily reach for her phone. The blood drains from her face as she looks at the screen, staring at you where you rest on her thigh, answering with a gulp.

“H-” she clears her throat, “hey, ma.” Your eyes almost bulge from your head. “I was in the middle of a shower, sorry,” she gets out quickly, nearly laughing at herself and you purse your lips to contain your own giggle, “well, the kids had a project with glitter, had to get it off.”

“Get something off,” you mumble quietly, pressing a kiss to the junction of her hip. Melissa playfully smacks your arm as she listens to her mother, pressing her finger to her grinning lips.

“Well, I got a friend over right now…” Friend. “Yes, the freak,” she chuckles warmly, patting your hand before her hand freezes on yours, “oh- I… can ask.” Her eyes leave her lap, now looking to you, “wanna go get dinner at Cirillo’s? My parent’s treat.”

Your eyebrows rise, “do you… want me to go?” You’ve met Kristen Marie, and only quickly ran into her cousin Vinny, but her parents were a whole other story.

“Wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” it feels genuine. You nod.

Arturo and Giorgia Schemmenti are exactly who would expect Melissa’s parents to be. Giorgia shares suspicion openly on her face, Arturo, on the other hand, has a resting smile. You think in the moment, you’ve got them figured out, but the way they unblinkingly look when you speak terrifies you, as if they’re analyzing every breath you take and every twitch of your hand. Silent prayers from both you and Melissa ask they don’t realize you were forced to wear one of her shirts, having arrived to her place in an ancient sweatshirt from your backseat.

You answer every question they ask you, although confused on the need to grill you so closely. What do you do for work? How many siblings? Ever gotten a speeding ticket? How’s your relationship with your parents? Do you have any sexually transmitted diseases? Thoughts on Reagan? Ever cheated on one of your past partners? MRI technician, sir. Two brothers. Twice, one on my way to school, one on my way to the hospital for my grandmother. Not great, I guess? No, ma’am, I get tested every two months. Hope he’s in hell. No, God, no.

“Lord, you two, let up. We haven’t even gotten the tzatziki yet,” Melissa says, laying the drinks menu down on the table.

“Just trynna get to know your friend, Meli,” Arturo turns his attention to you, “swear, all the girl does is talk about you, and I still know nothing.” The ringed hand at the edge of the table clenches, knuckles white.

You just shrug, “afraid I’m not that interesting.” I’m just a friend.

You miss how Melissa looks at you, brows turned up as she glimpses your sad smile. However, you feel a warm hand go to your thigh, squeezing gently. When her parents' attention diverts to a large party walking in, she whispers in your ear, “I don’t like when you talk about yourself like that, you’re very interesting. Should know, I’ve studied every inch of you for hours.”

It takes a deep breath and every ounce of strength to not wiggle in your seat. Reprieve comes in the shape of a definitely stoned server, lucky bastard, and reprieve is taken away when he tells you that food may be a little delayed due to the rush. Melissa’s parents nod with understanding, you nod with fear bubbling. A delay means longer here, with Melissa’s hand on your thigh with her parents speaking about everything and nothing from across the table.

It’s getting harder and harder to focus with Melissa’s fingers drawing little patterns over your jeans, skin burning beneath her touch. Peering over at her, you can see an almost-hidden mark from early, the easy smile on her lips as she talks to her dad, she’s perfect in your eyes. In this lighting, it’s hard to look away from her, orange-hued lights making her look golden.

Rising from your chair, you just give a quiet, “I’ll be right back.” You turn to walk towards the restrooms, desperate for space away from judging hazel and green eyes across the table. Melissa watches your direction, excusing herself too, following where you disappeared under the sign reading τουαλέτα.

In the short hallway, she grabs your wrist before you enter the door, pulling you to the family room to the right. Locking the door, she places her hands on your hips, “are they freaking you out? I’ll tell them to knock it off, or we can go, say you’re on call or something.”

“No,” you say, place your palms against her shoulders, “it’s just overwhelming, all the questions, your dad asking for my credit score, I don’t know.”

“You didn’t have to tell him,” she chuckles, hands dipping to your ass.

You shiver from her touch, leaning into her, “it’s a good score, though.”

“It is,” you barely hear her words as she presses her lips to yours, all the energy from earlier still running through her veins. Your hands slide down her arms to her hips, pushing her back towards the sink. We’ve been here before.

Hopping up, she settles against the porcelain and opens her legs to let you stand between them. Keeping your lips on hers, you quickly unbutton her jeans, forcing the zipping down. You know her like the back of your hand at this point, know how to touch her to make her writhe and release around your fingers, you’re utterly devoted to her pleasure.

The previously ruined orgasm comes back quickly with full force, her clenching around you quickly. Her lips leave yours, shoving her face into your shoulder to mute her moans. Lips brushing the shell of her ear, you circle your thumb over her clit and whisper, “God, you are so beautiful. C’mon, baby, cum for me.”

Teeth chomp into your shoulder as her writhing becomes erratic against your hand before slowing as she relaxes against you. Her breathing evens out, quicker than you expect, her face becoming unreadable as it lifts from its hiding place. Surprisingly, she stays silently leaned against you as you wash your hands, letting you fix her hair before you fix your own.

Arturo and Giorgia seemingly notice nothing, believing the excuse of a busy line, one visible from your seats. If they don’t believe you, they don’t give anything away, though their questions ease up once the food comes. It must be a Schemmenti thing to be quiet for the first few bites of food, taking in every flavor. It’s endearing.

Both Schemmenti’s hug you, to even more surprise, telling you how delightful it was to put a face to a commonly brought up name. Melissa pinches the bridge of her nose before hugging her mother, mumbling something to the woman before embracing her father.

The entire drive back to her house, you can’t find it in you to speak, too lost in thought. Melissa talks about you, often, often enough that her parents wanted to meet you. Why would they question you so much, especially if you’re just their daughter’s friend? Wanting to know about your ‘past’ relationships, as opposed to what, your… current one? It hits you embarrassingly late, as Melissa pulls into the driveway: her parents think she’s talking about you because she’s dating you, and think she just hasn’t officially told them. All you can do is turn and look at her, bewildered.

Hand on the key in the ignition, Melissa turns and looks at you, “I don’t know about you, but I’m exha- What?” When she doesn’t get an answer, her face screws with worry, “what’s wrong, baby?”

Blinking rapidly, you scan over her face, “you talk about me to your parents.”

“Well I’m with you a lot, it's natural to talk about you,” she says like it’s obvious, turning off the car.

“Enough that your parents wanted to meet me, know about my family and dating history?”

Her face hardens, and you wish you’d never spoken, her voice demands respect “well, they got the wrong idea. Being nosy is in their blood, being right isn’t.”

“Okay,” you’re exasperated.

“You and I, this isn’t a relationship, no expectations, no attachments. Just good, old-fashioned sex between friends,” Melissa says slowly, brow raised, “capisce?”

“Yeah…Capisce,” you say, stepping out of the car, pulling your keys from your pocket.

“What are you doing?” Melissa says, realizing you aren’t behind her as she goes to the front door.

You turn and face her, standing in the open car door, “I’m going home. You want no attachments, I can’t give that to you anymore.”

She steps down from the bottom step, “Baby-”

“Don’t. I don’t want you to be in something you don’t want, you want casual, Melissa. Stress relief,” her eyes dart to you at the wording, your eyes look down to your feet, “what I feel for you, it’s beyond that, beyond what you want me to feel.”

“You don’t know what I want,” she gets closer, hand reaching for you, but you brush her off.

“I’m all you want until I want you.” When she doesn’t reply, you sit and close the door, pulling out of the driveway with Melissa staring where you’d stood.

—☽—

Two weeks of radio silence. This is the longest in the near year you’ve spent with Melissa where you haven’t seen one another. Last time it was four days after you brought up a date for the second time, six days before that when she found out that Kristen Marie called you when she was drunk and needed a ride home from God-knows-where, begging you to not tell Melissa, accidentally blurting it herself.

You wish you didn’t miss her, her laugh, the smell of eucalyptus shampoo, her touch, her eyes, her hands, her smile, her little dance when she takes food out of the oven. She was all that surrounded you for so long, it’s all you know. It feels wrong to be without her, but it hurts to think about her. Salt entered the wound when Shauna dared to mention Melissa going on a date with some vending machine guy, immediate regret when you got up and left soon after. You're thankful to not hear of him again.

Another week passes, and as a month gets closer to passing, the hole in your chest has yet to heal over. Your phone buzzes next to you where you blankly watch the documentary that was playing.

From Shauna: i fucked up. apologies to ur door in advance

To Shauna: thank u for the context

From Shauna: i poked the ginger bear

From Shauna: by poked i mean chewed out

To Shauna: again, i fear the context has yet to appear

From Shauna: yelled at ur ex-mommy for treating you like a toy from spencers

To Shauna: i’ll pass on your apology to my door in my will

Comedic timing is a very real thing, hard knocking on your door, clearly both fists meeting the wood.

Ripping the door open, you stare down a tired-eyed, yet irate, Melissa, “unnecessary. I have a buzzer.”

“And I have a Cost-Co card,” she says, pushing her way into your home.

“What are you doing here?”

Hands on her hips, she turns and faces you, “your- I’d say our, but not right now- your friend just chewed me a new one about leading you on. Leading you on?! As if we didn’t have an arrangement, no feelings, just sex.”

“An agreement that I ended! Because I got feelings! It wasn’t just sex for me, it stopped being just sex a long time ago,” you never thought you’d be raising your voice at her like this, “I tried to tell you, all those dates I offered, everything I’ve ever said to you, I meant all of it. And what do I get? No, baby, we’re casual. So, I tapped out.”

“Because we were casual! There’s supposed to be no feelings here!”

“Then how’s that vending machine guy, huh? He’s been having conversations with just your tits for months, and he got a date, but where is he now?” She flounders. “Did you take him home? Or try?” She nods imperceptibly. “I would bet my whole life savings on the fact he probably couldn’t even get you wet, let alone make you cum. How right am I?”

Her lips tremble, “that’s not the point.”

“Just a question, needs an answer.” Melissa shakes her head, confirming your suspicions. “Why are you actually here, Melissa?”

Emerald eyes look into yours, emotion swirling through them as she asks quietly, “do you still have feelings for me?”

You won’t lie, you never can with her, “haven’t wavered once.”

Carefully, Melissa steps slowly into your space, hands coming to your sides, “I’m stupid. So fucking stupid. I thought all I wanted was sex, but when you left and I tried to just make myself… move on. It didn’t feel the same, being alone doesn’t feel the same. It’s so stupid and cliché and stupid that it took you leaving me to realize… Fuck, I feel like a Jane Austen character.”

Weary hands rise to her face, holding her with a special reverence, “I need to hear you say it.” The magnetic pull between you brings you into her, lips only an inch from her own.

Fingers grip your shirt, “I… I love you. I have since you told the Jehovah’s Witnesses to eat a bag of locusts and ass on Christmas Eve.”

The little smile that plays on her lips, clearly picturing the memory, it heals something in you. Brushing your lips against hers, you mumble, “I love you, too. ”

The kiss she presses to your lips is so different from any other you’d shared, but the desperation brings you back to that first night in the bathroom. Tongues graze, and a fire is ignited. Spinning her, you walk her back towards your bedroom, a place she’s only been twice in the last year.

Falling as her knees hit the bed, she takes you with her, and you gladly take your place. Just as the last time you were with her, you straddle her waist, continuing to kiss her with all the emotion you can express. Ringed fingers tug at your shirt, begging for contact. You don’t deny her, nor yourself, pulling her shirt off of her after yours, both lost on the floor. Jeans fly to meet them soon after.

Lips, tongue, and teeth clash as you fall into the feeling of each other’s skin. Moving down, you nip at her neck, sucking roughly on her pulse point to leave a mark. You continue your mission down her chest, leaving red splotches across her breasts. Always so sensitive, Melissa arches into your affections, groaning when your tongue swirls around her nipple, leaving a string of saliva that connects you to it as you pull away.

Shifting lower and lower, giving her abdomen attention, soft kisses trailing down. Your lips trail over silvery stretch marks, following as they lead you to her plush thighs. Teeth wrap around the waistband of her thong, eyes glancing to her as a silent request of permission.

“Please, baby,” her voice airy and whiny as she basks in the affection you so readily give her.

Pulling down her thong, tossing it to the side, your eyes fall to her pussy. Lips blooming in arousal, clit swollen, begging for a touch it hasn’t received in too long. You press a gentle kiss to her pearl, hearing another whine pass her lips, hips bucking slightly for you.

How you missed her. Your tongue licks up her slit, gathering the wetness that accumulated there, dancing up around her clit. A divine taste so feminine, so uniquely Melissa, you moan into her as you grip her thighs, working your tongue into her opening. Dusty purple nails dig into your hand, and you flip your wrist to interlock your fingers, feeling her squeeze tightly.

Your tongue leaves her, much to her dismay. Blown out eyes follow your reach to the nightstand, a clear bottle of lube procured. Your lips press to hers again as you spread the lube across your fingers and lower your hand to her entrance, replacing the contact of your tongue. Throaty moans leave her lips, more, please. Slowly, your ring finger joins the middle, allowing her a moment to adjust before quickening your motions, moaning yourself at the feeling of her cunt gripping your fingers.

“You’re so beautiful,” you say against her lips, “so beautiful.” Teeth pull at her bottom lip, making her groan into your mouth, kiss going sloppy.

“I- oh- I love you,” Melissa answers through a moan, grinding against your thumb on her sensitive bud. A particular curl of your fingers makes her silently scream, soothed by your gentle mouthing of her neck.

Your index finger lines with her slit, “can you take more?”

She nods quickly, forcing your lips back to hers as a third finger stretches slowly, moans turning squeaky. All you can hear is the airy moans and the wetness of her pussy taking your fingers, sparking a warmth in your lower stomach. You can feel how close she is, how her walls refuse to let go, how her eyes flutter as they roll back.

In a sudden moment, your fingers stop, pulling from her. Her head snaps up, eyes immediately on you, “what are you doing?” God, the glassy look in your eyes almost breaks your heart.

“Hold on, gorgeous,” you say, pressing a quick kiss to her chest. Leaning over to the nightstand again, still straddling Melissa’s waist as her hands hold yours, you blindly reach into the drawer, searching for a familiar object. Finding the small, flat toy, you sit back against her, holding it to her eye level. Catching your drift, she nods, legs widening as she sits up slightly against the headboard.

Pressing the vibrator against her thigh, you turn it to the middle setting, feeling her jump a little at the sensation. Slowly, you slide it closer to her clit, using your free hand to slide one of her legs till it’s propped up. Lowering yourself, you press your clit against the top of the toy, keeping it pressed between your heat and hers, both of you moaning in unison.

Rolling your hips, a breathless moan leaves you, ducking your head as your eyes close in ecstasy. Sharp nails dig into your ass, pulling you down further, moans crescendoing. It feels like you’re too far from her, immediately dropping to press your lips to hers in open-mouthed kisses, whining against her lips as she holds you to her. Using her thigh for leverage, you use your own leg to press harder to her cunt, rolling against her in a way that forces her teeth into your shoulder.

The strong vibration against your clit and Melissa’s presence alone has you holding on by a thread, and from the way the redhead is holding onto you, you know she is too. Putting your weight fully on your right hand, your left grabs Melissa’s, tangling your fingers together. Her lips move languidly across yours, tongue dancing with yours rather than fighting for dominance, something she never did before. The emotions of it all and the coil snapping in your stomach, your forehead drops to her shoulder, panting as you feel your climax approach.

“Baby, ple-oh-please,” the hand creating crescent-shaped dents in your back shifts to your hair.

“I gotchu, let go for me,” your teeth tug at her earlobe, “cum for me, beautiful.”

A final, hard roll of your hips sets you both alight, moaning as you cum in tandem.

Both of you squirm as the toy works against you still. Lifting off her, you remove the toy from its place against her, turning it off and placing it on the nightstand to be dealt with later. Lowering yourself, you come face to face with her pussy, swollen and wet and beautiful. With gentle strokes, you lick her clean, taking your time to savor her taste.

Melissa’s husky moans spur you on, lapping up to her sensitive clit. Barely suckling on the nub has her tensing again, her grip on you doesn’t let you go far, not that you were planning on it regardless. She cums on your tongue, giving you a taste once more. Sweet decadence.

Easing your way back up with loving kisses up her body, laying on your side next to her, chest to chest. Your legs stay tangled together, no space exists between you.

The hand not in hers rises to her face, pushing loose, wild hair away, caressing her cheek. Melissa turns her head to press a kiss to your thumb, her own hand coming to your wrist.

“I love you,” she says, “I really, really do.”

You stroke her cheek again, “I love you, too.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you how I did,” her eyes water, “I don’t have any excuses. I’m just so sorry, baby.”

“Well, we’ve got all the time you want with me to make it up to me,” you say, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose.

She smiles weakly, “I want all the time with you.”

Your lips press to her lips this time, “then that’s what you get.” Leaning across you, Melissa puts herself on your lap, her favorite place to sit. Face hovering above yours for only a moment, she tucks herself into the crook of your neck, keeping her weight on top of you.

Sticky with sweat, the scent of sex around you, the tracing of nails up and down your sides, dancing over your ribs. Nothing has changed and everything has. You have always been Melissa’s, she has always been yours, now you finally have each other. Warm breath over your neck evens out, the lost sleep and recently lost energy catching up to her. You, however, you are invigorated.

For the first time in a year, you get to hold your Melissa.

kudos to anyone that can find all the song references and the singular lisa ann reference that is so small u will miss it

as towa bird says: scissor your friends!

feed back appreciated as always <3

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #lgbtq fanfiction #lesbian #lgbtq

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hiraya-rawr · 1 year

Text

giving them a seelie pet —

characters !! diluc, ayato, wanderer, zhongli

note !! little drabble as im trying to fall asleep~ gn reader

Diluc

Doesn't know how to react when you gesture for a floating green glob to approach him. He gives you a death stare. "You do know this. . . thing might end up in one of the wine crates by accident? the winery isn't the safest place for a 'pet' or whatever you intend this to be. . ."

Accepts it anyway because gentlemen don't refuse gifts. he leaves it to the maids at first but it keeps following him around that he's forced to look after it (he's saved it from being trapped in fermenting wine barrels a handful of times).

Eventually comes to accept it, but also tries to make use of it. "We need to have a better way of communicating. Can you understand morse code? . . . no? squeak twice if yes. Now what about turning you into a spy. . . too difficult? then how about a delivery bird?"

Ayato

He found it amusing but also questionable because why on teyvat would you give a seelie as a gift? it's an odd present to receive that's for sure, but he accepts it anyway.

Has a habit of teasing his new little red friend. Often pokes it, either with a pen or his finger. He's tried offering it boba milktea once but couldn't figure out where the mouth was.

Wanderer

This guy would give you the weirdest look, "looks like you're not all right in the head, because a seelie. . . pet? ha, there's something you don't hear everyday. insane."

he is an absolute bully! would poke his seelie multiple times just to hear it squeak. if it squeaks a lot, he'll trap it in his hat and keep it on a table. eventually does grow fond of it, having something rely on him gives him... purpose, makes him feel needed, and it's nice to have something his (but he'll never admit it).

may share his hat with his little golden friend!

Zhongli

He's just really glad you thought of him to give the seelie to! they have quite the history and he'll tell you all about them as you give him the pet!

although seekies tend to be quite squeaky loud, his becomes very well behaved. (zhongli simply smiles and shushes it gently, telling it to read along with him if it wants, and the seelie would settle down). they become a very calm pair, casually reading or drinking tea, strolling down the harbor. seelie likes to rest on his shoulders!

ko-fi // gen.masterlist

#genshin x reader #diluc #diluc x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #ayato #ayato x reader #wanderer #scaramouche #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin #genshin impact

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allfearstofallto · 3 months

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Where I think their darling is from + How they met them - headcanon drabbles

Yandere! Scaramouche, Diluc, Ayato (separate) x reader.

AN: I couldn't think of one for Childe, but spoilers, I think his darling is from Liyue. I'm also writing a full fic based on Ayato's section, just putting on the finishing touches!

Scaramouche -

A Drunk from Mondstadt

The city of freedom. A cute name. A lying name. He knew better than to think there was such a thing as actual freedom, but if it helped the drunken residents sleep at night to believe that, then so be it.

Missions to Mondstadt were short work for him. Partially because he was one of the few Fatui who didn't want to stop and take a drink or enjoy the scenery and “freeing wind” as they called it. He’d rather get things over with and just go home.

“Free samples! Free samples!” That was another thing he hated about Mondstadt. It was constantly noisy. Whether it be advertisements or the people themselves, the city was never quiet.

“Would you care for a sample?” He wanted to ignore you and just walk past, but of course you had to call him out personally. He scoffed and shot you a glare, something that would make most people tremble, but you didn't even flinch. Were you dumb? Or just plain ignorant, either way he didn't see your future as being very bright.

“Wow, you're very angry. Maybe you need two samples,” you reached over to the table next to you and handed him two cups. A sickly sweet smell hit his nostrils and he resisted the urge to gag, “It's a new mead recipe, including this season's fresh fruit. A very popular flavor, I designed the recipe myself.”

He raised an eyebrow at what you said? The hopeful look in your eye made him actually want to drink this sugar concoction. Pure anticipation on your face, a look that was normally annoying to him, but he found your hopefulness rather charming. Cute even.

Scaramouche eyed the cup for a second longer. Then brought it up to his lips. Disgusting. It was absolutely disgusting. That syrupy sweetness coating his tongue damn near induced vomiting, but he held back any emotions. The only pleasant part of the entire drink was the bitter liquor aftertaste.

“So?” You asked. There was a sparkle in your eyes like a gem, he felt himself falter, a feeling he hadn't felt in years. He wanted to be soft to you.

“It's good,” he muttered, a bold face lie of he'd ever told one before, but you seemed to believe it.

“Thank you, sir!” You exclaimed and he could help, but to partially match your smile.

As you continued to talk and recommend wines and beers to try, he barely listened, but he couldn't walk away. The eccentric way you spoke and moved had a hold on him. He wanted that at home with him. Maybe Mondstadt wouldn't be so bad to visit again after all.

Diluc -

A Scholar from Sumeru

Diluc’s mornings consisted of walking around the vineyard, checking on the grapes, and pulling away any that weren't purely perfect. It was a job that started long before the sun even rose and only ended right before the winery opened.

The day looked average. Nothing too out of place. Nothing except for you. With the way you were crouched so still, he almost didn't notice you, your unmoving form practically making you blend in with a bush of grapes. But there you were. Dressed from head to toe in the green Akademiya garbs, he hadn't seen a scholar outside of Sumeru in some time.

“You're quite a long way from home,” he finally spoke to you, crossing his arms to make himself look more intimidating, “And you're trespassing. The winery doesn't open for another four hours,”

You finally turned your head to look up at him with a look of confusion on your face, “But I'm not here for wine?” You said, tilting your head to the side. Finally you stood, picking something up that was next to you. A small notebook, an obvious accessory for a scholar, “I'm here for the grapes.”

One of Diluc’s red eyebrows raised in confusion, “We don't just sell the grapes,”

“I know that!” You laughed like he said something truly funny, even lightly hitting him on the shoulder. Your strike felt no heavier than a feather's touch against his built shoulder, “I'm studying them. Wine from Mondstadt is known to have the best taste, and I'm researching that.”

“By trespassing?”

“By studying your grapes. Good wine starts with its grapes,” you affirmed. You opened your notebook in front of him to show him doodles and notes that you’d written, all actually pertaining to grapes. So you actually weren't lying.

A small smile formed on his lips. It was like it was forced out of him. You were truly passionate about what you were doing, even if it was something as mundane as the grapes that went into wine.

“How about you study the grapes when the sun is up? I have a spare room in the manor that you could use,” Diluc wasn't one to shy away from kindness, but normally staying a night in the manor costs more than a few fun drawings and a charismatic character, but he felt himself falling into an ease around you.

“Could I? Really? Thank you,” You followed him as he led you up the steps to the manor. He knew he was getting ahead of himself, but he still let one of his hands fall and hold your waist as you walked up the stairs.

He was attracted to you, yes, his red eyes couldn't seem to leave your face as you talked on and on, but the hand wasn't placed there because of that. He wanted to make absolutely sure that you wouldn't stumble, like he didn't trust you not to trip and fall over your own feet.

If you noticed the hand, you didn't say anything and as the two of you walked into the manor together, the idea tickled his mind of never allowing you to leave.

Ayato -

a sneak thief from Inazuma

What you were doing was bases to have you killed. He wondered if you knew that. If you did then you were even more bold for doing it.

The maids in the Kamisato estate all had the same face to him. Obviously, they looked different, but remembering their faces and names wasn't too important to him. All that mattered was that they worked.

And worked you did, diligently at that, until all eyes were off of you. The first time he saw you do it, he thought he'd misunderstood. Obviously, you didn't notice that he was there, so when you took a silver teaspoon off of the tray, and dropped it into the sleeve of your obi, his eyes went wide.

He thought that it was a one time occurrence, that maybe he caught you when you were truly desperate. But then you did it again. And again. And again. You were outright stealing from the Kamisato estate, whilst being one of his loyal employees. And yet somehow he couldn't find it in himself to be angry about it.

Your brazen display of disrespect towards the Kamisato name was honestly a little refreshing. Yes, you still bowed when he approached you and referred to him by proper honorifics, but to know that right under his nose, you were still taking from him, that thought was rather thrilling.

While you thought you were being stealthy, and in truth you were. Your sleight of hands was one to be reckoned with. You were good, but not good enough for him to not notice. What you were doing was something you could be killed for. Treason. Blasphemy even. And he fawned over how he could use that against you.

#genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere x you #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere diluc #yandere ayato #yandere diluc x reader #yandere ayato x reader

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azrielbrainrot · 4 months

Text

Fire on Fire

Pairing: Eris x Reader

Description: Being female in the Autumn Court was hard enough before you got engaged against your will. You try to avoid your fate at any cost.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3966

Notes: Writing Eris is hard, I hope this isn't too bad. Also meant for this to be so much shorter but oh well. Feedback is always appreciated! (unless you're mean about it)

Fire on Fire Masterlist

You watch elegant gowns in all shades of green and orange against tasteful brown and scarlet three piece suits flowing to the music. Your own floor length gown is a muted burnt orange that complimented your figure enough not to be considered provocative. The dress is undeniably beautiful but you would have liked it more had you been allowed to choose it for yourself, it was only upon arriving that you realized the color was meant to match your fiancé's. Orange and burgundy, symbolizing the fire in your hearts, burning for each other. Such a shame you didn't choose him either.

Lively music and laughter can be heard all around the extravagantly decorated ballroom. A proper celebration fit for… you can't even remember what the purpose of this ceremony was. Just another in a long list of mindless parties you aren't allowed to fully indulge in, celebrating people you don't like or traditions you'd rather never participate in.

In any other situation you might have loved to take in the beautiful decorations around the room and lose yourself in the music, dancing and laughing to your heart's desire. But, as you stare at the same intricately decorated chandelier, with magical flames swaying to the beat, you can't take your mind off the people around you.

Your engagement ring clinks against your wine glass slightly, both useless props. You were only allowed a couple modest sips of the wine before putting it aside, as no female should indulge in such a thing, let alone an unmarried one. And the ring seemed more like a mockery than anything else. It symbolized your purpose in this life, to be someone's trophy wife just as your parents had raised you. You think a noose around your neck would feel less haunting.

Thankfully, your parents had left you alone shortly after arriving, letting you sit by one of the tables while you watched the celebration from afar. They must have been content with your demure act, the promised beauty standing off by the side while the married and unclaimed fae reveled in the center of the room. You wonder if you approached the table filled with deliciously smelling goods your mother would winnow to you, lest you look fat in your already too tight corset. It's not even worth the effort for a simple bite of food, you'd rather starve until you're alone.

With a soft sigh you let your eyes wander away from the chandeliers, if you stare at them any longer you might blind yourself with the flames. Pretending no one else was here was an impossible feat anyway. As much as your room feels like a prison sometimes, you'd give anything to go back home right now.

Your eyes meet your future husband's and a chill immediately runs through your body. Eris looks as impeccable as ever in his intricately decorated suit, not a line or hair out of place just as it was expected of the Autumn Court Heir. There is no doubt that he is an exceptionally handsome male, you don't even want to imagine how many fae would kill to be in your place. It's just a shame that his personality is less than desirable, and so is his attitude towards you, and his manners when no one is looking, and that he was the final nail on the coffin that is your stupid fate.

You knew an arranged marriage would eventually become your reality ever since you were a child and your father had told you not to bother with romance, he'd pick someone suitable to marry you and all you had to do was be good to him. In his eyes love is not worth it. You wonder if he even believes it exists, he's certainly never felt it, not even for you, his own child. It makes you feel more at ease knowing no one has ever loved him either, as cruel as that might make you.

For a while you didn't pay your future too much mind, you'd have secret crushes, read romance books behind everyone's backs and even had fleeting affairs when you were a teenager, but it came to a point where you couldn't ignore your fate anymore. When you were freshly seventeen, your mother started intensifying her lessons on how to be a good wife and a good mother - this was the biggest irony since she had never been anything but cruel to you - and your time was consumed with preparations for a future you'd rather run from.

Shortly after, your father put you officially on the market for a husband that would compliment the family's powers, and the High Lord himself came forth, interested in having you marry his eldest son. You knew your family's power was coveted in the Autumn court, your fire was only second to the Vanserra line and the current Lady of Autumn, but this still came as a surprise for you and your family as the High Lord never appeared interested in you. There was no point deluding yourself anymore, your fate as a glorified brooding mare was staring you right in the face.

You had briefly thought of escaping, but the chances of succeeding were slim and you had nowhere to go. You knew the other courts didn't operate on such archaic rules, for the most part at least, but you were also aware that none would accept an autumn court noble female. Your High Lord had burned every bridge with the other courts a thousand times over. You didn't blame any of them for being wary of anything that crawled out of this sickening court.

Words cannot describe how much you hate Beron and everything he stands for which is a good thing because you'd be burned alive in public for speaking those words out loud. Still, you know your feelings of hatred could never hold a candle to Eris' distaste for his own father, and this is how your bargain came to be.

Upon hearing that your future husband would be the heir to the Autumn Court, you had only felt fear like never before. Eris had a reputation of cruelty that preceded him, he was a favorite for the throne among the despicable nobles of this court for a reason after all, but following your first meeting, you had seen a side of him that you'd bet not even a handful of people had glimpsed before and had ultimately came to an agreement that benefitted both of you: you'd push back the date for as long possible while playing the role your fathers expected of the both of you and, if you were lucky, you'd be able to avoid the marriage altogether when Beron wasn't High Lord anymore.

Eris wanted to dispose or Beron, burn down the ruins of this old-fashioned, cruel court and have Autumn be reborn from the ashes. You never intend to call him your husband, but you would gladly help him so you could, one day, come to call him your High Lord.

He observes you for a few heartbeats before downing the content of his glass and setting it aside. In the next moment he's walking straight to you, not ever letting his eyes stray or giving you a moment to breathe.

You can't help but think he looks every bit the High Lord in this moment, with his suffocating power untamed and wicked gaze trained on you. Eris walks to you in slow, intentional steps, like a predator would walk to his prey. His three piece suit was clinging to his frame perfectly, showing off his physique with every step. The pushed back hair only made the intensity in his eyes more noticeable and the strands he left out were framing his face perfectly. Eris looked extremely handsome from afar but he's suffocatingly entrancing when he stands in front of you.

You barely exchange pleasantries before he holds a hand out to you. You can feel everyone's eyes on the two of you, observing every interaction in hopes of finding any detail to gossip about. They all know your marriage is arranged but they're under the impression that, as a female, landing the most sought-after bachelor in the court was your endgame. And there are plenty of people who would go to extreme measures to ensure that they or their family member would be the one becoming the next Lady of Autumn. You're not sure if they'd spare you even if you told them you didn't want anything to do with the title.

“Time to put on a show, doll.” Trying not to let your face show the distaste of the petname he chose for you all those years ago, you take his hand and let him lead you to the middle of the dance floor.

The music changes right before you start, the band knows this is one of the highlights of the evening - the heir and his fiancé. People will be talking about this moment for the next weeks, it's not often you and Eris interact in public after all, just enough for him to show his claim on you as your father so eloquently put it.

Eris leads you through the dance effortlessly, your body following instinctively in turn. You've yet to see him be less than amazing at something. You wonder what kind of picture the two of you paint, moving together so gracefully to the music, orange against burgundy, fire on fire.

“How are you enjoying the evening?” You'd rather he was quiet and ignored you in these moments you have to show up together in public like so many husbands and fiancés do. Eris loves to fan the flames and it's just your luck that they're usually yours. He might not have as much as to lose if you snap and let your fire show, but Beron wouldn't let him go unpunished if his fiancé caused a scene.

“Lovely,” you make sure your gaze is both timid and kind, avoiding his gaze as if you were inferior to him. As he spins you around and brings you in closer, you add in a hushed tone, “Haven't been allowed to eat since this morning and my hair is pulled up so tightly I can barely think.”

“You females sure have it rough.” He means it as a sarcastic comment but you've known him long enough to identify the distaste behind his words. Eris doesn't have the liberty to speak his mind so he's learned to do it behind mockery and sarcasm over the centuries. He knows how rough you have it, unfortunately he's seen it first hand.

“Oh I'm sure you have it so much worse,” you say in a tone you hope matches his, “It's not like you don't spend your mornings walking your hounds around the forest and nights only the Mother knows where.”

You see something spark in his eyes, something akin to satisfaction, before he's tightening his grip on your waist and bringing you in closer. He looks around the room first, as if daring anyone to keep staring while he talks to his soon-to-be wife. Of course, no one does.

“Spying on me, little doll?” Your breath hitches and you know he hears it because you can feel his smirk grow. You'll blame the blush spreading through your flesh and chills moving through your body on your performance later, but in this moment you know they're very much real.

Eris has an effect on you. The male is undeniably attractive, you doubt you'd find any fae or human who wouldn't think so, and that wicked tongue of his only makes him more enticing. You like to blame your body's response to him on your lack of experience, but you're not sure it would be possible to not feel at least tempted to indulge in Eris even if you'd already made your way through the entire court.

“I wasn't trying to,” you swallow, fighting to keep your tone steady and not show any more reaction to his proximity. This much was true, you could barely sneak around to find time for yourself, let alone spend it looking for your fiancé. “Maybe you're just easy to find,” you tilt your head slightly, “This doesn't bode well with all your plans.” You swear you can feel a small chuckle coming from him but he's hiding it before you can be sure.

The song rises in tempo and Eris takes this opportunity to spin you around again, effectively putting some space between you. It's hard to keep a pleasant smile on your face while spewing venom filled words at your husband to be, but letting anyone overhear you or find any little crack in your performance would only bring trouble, and this is routine for you after all. You'd never admit it but with his hand in yours the stares are easier to digest, even if your arrangement was involuntary, at least you weren't alone for once in your life.

The song finally comes to an end. You rush to bow to him slightly so you can go back to an emptier corner of the ballroom and escape everyone's prying eyes, but Eris takes your hand before you can. He takes it up to his mouth, kissing it softly before whispering in your ear.

“Meet me at the cabin later.” It must be an important subject for Eris to even bring this up at a place like this. Though you're sure it had simply looked like he left you with some teasing parting words.

The rest of the ceremony is uneventful. You go back to the same place you had spent most of the night in and ignored the whispers around you. Aside from your mother coming by to ask you what Eris told you - to which you promptly lied and feigned bashfulness - you sat in the corner quietly wondering what your fiancé wants to talk to you about.

As soon as you walk into your room you let out a loud sigh. You wish you could just fall into your bed and not emerge until the sun is high in the sky tomorrow. Unfortunately, you still need to let the maids bathe you and get you ready for bed. Your mother insists on having them help you, especially on days like these, as if you could drown in the bath.

It takes what feels like hours to go through the whole routine, getting you out of the too small corseted dress was a feat in itself. If you had been alone you probably would have already burned it off your body in frustration, it's not like you'll be allowed to wear it again either way.

You lie down in bed as soon as the maids leave, keeping an ear out for everyone else in the house. Trying to leave before everyone was asleep was too risky. They had no reason to think you would leave in the middle of the night like this, but you couldn't help being a little paranoid. There's too much to lose.

When you think it's safe, you climb out of bed quietly. You look down at your nightgown and contemplate changing into something warmer. It barely reaches your knees so you'll definitely be cold, but you were already late and it would be easier to just get back into bed like this. You decide to put on some boots and throw a green hood over it.

Taking one more look around, you winnow to your meeting point. No one knows you have this ability, which is how you can sneak out as often as you do. You've kept this secret from everyone but Eris, though you didn't intentionally reveal it to him either.

He'd shown you this place when you first made your bargain years ago. You're not entirely sure what the cabin was used for before but it was probably only meant for storage. Eris must have found it deep into the forest and decided it was a good place to hide, you can only imagine the things he's gotten up to inside these walls.

As soon as you materialize into the cabin you see Eris standing by the fire. He's changed out of his suit but it doesn't look like he was getting ready for bed with the black ensemble he has on. Yours is probably not the only secret meeting he's having tonight.

“You're late.” Incredible how Eris always strives to be the nicest person in the room.

“I had to wait for everyone to think I was asleep so they didn't see me,” you start as you push the hood off your head, “Excuse me if I took a bit longer making sure no one followed me.”

“You're perfectly excused, doll.” The flames in the hearth climb higher, fueled by your anger that only escalates when you see the familiar smirk on his irritatingly beautiful face. “Oh my. How have you managed to hide your powers with such a fiery disposition?”

You ask yourself that same question often. Fortunately, he might be the only person who can make your temper boil so easily. You don't even want to think what would happen if your father found out how powerful you could be.

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your composure, you take a deep breath and walk closer to the fire. The cloak is doing little to ward off the cold of the autumn forest, you hope he at least ends this conversation quickly.

“I was hoping you'd keep the dress on,” he takes on a seductive tone and looks down at your bare legs before locking eyes with you once more, “but this might be even better.” You will never understand why he insists on playing this game with you, you're more than aware that he has no such feelings for you. You also know you probably look ridiculous.

“Well I was hoping you'd get eaten by a wolf on the way here,” you give him a sweet smile, “but we don't always get what we want.”

The disinterested hum he sends your way in lieu of a response is somehow more infuriating than anything he might have come up with. The fact that Eris managed to live over 500 years with this personality might as well be one of the biggest mysteries in Prythian.

“What did you want to tell me anyway?” You just wanted to get this over with and go back to your warm bed so you can finally sleep the day off.

“Our marriage will take place within the year.” The world fell silent at his words. You always knew this day could come, that Eris could only delay it for so long, but hearing the words makes your heart sink.

“What?”

“Beron hasn't talked to me about it yet but he told my mother to start preparations for my wedding.” He runs a hand through his hair, you hadn't noticed how messy it already was. He's as worried about this as you are. “She warned me he'll probably announce it soon. I thought it would be tonight.”

You don't know how to process this. It may have been foolish but you had hoped this would never actually happen since Eris was on your side. You sit on the bench and Eris follows suit. Your masks drop in the small comfort of the secluded cabin, there's no use pretending now.

“What about your other plan?” This was your last chance: if Eris was High Lord he could simply call the engagement off and your father wouldn't be able to argue against it.

“I will need more time.” You close your eyes tightly, wishing you could just disappear. “I'm trying to move things along as fast as I can but I won't be able to finish all the preparations before the end of the year. There's too much at risk.”

“We will be married by then.” It's over.

“It can't be helped.” You'd give anything to see Autumn rid of Beron, if the price has to be your freedom so be it. Still, you can't help feeling defeated, it feels like you're mourning a life you never even had the chance of living.

You don't know if Eris had any hope of finding love like you did but, even if he didn't, you know he didn't want to be chained to someone he didn't choose either. He had witnessed how awful his parent's marriage had been just like you did yours so he must have at least hoped for a companion of his choice or to stay alone.

“I've thought of sending you away,” you look up at him, surprised at his words, “but my father would order me to find you, and I'd have to obey him. Failing Beron's orders brings too big of a punishment for me and my family.” His gaze moves from the fire in front of you to meet yours, “I would hate to ever hurt you, doll, so I need to keep you here.”

If there was one thing you could respect about Eris was his commitment to keeping his family safe. You're not actually sure if any of them are aware of the sacrifices he makes for them - from what you've heard the family dynamic is interesting at best - but it tugs at your heart strings. You used to pray for someone to care for you that much, to protect you like this.

You wonder how things ended up like this. Maybe thinking you could have avoided this future when it was written for you when you were born had been simply a foolish delusion. At least Eris was one of the best options, as much as you hate to admit it. You'd at least not have to worry about him being violent with you or treating you like you were less than an animal.

“Well,” you sit up straighter and stare right into the fire, feigning nonchalance even through your shaky voice and teary eyes, “I guess we'll have to get used to each other.” No use crying over spilt milk. It was better to accept this reality sooner than later. “Being Lady of Autumn might still bring me some perks in the end.”

You might have to give up on your chance at love and to build a life for yourself, but you can at least help Eris change this court for the better. When you turn your head and meet his amber eyes you find an intensity you weren't expecting, if you didn't know any better you'd think he was proud of you.

“Already thinking of ways to rule my court?” The smirk on his face wasn't quite as cutting as usual. “How ambitious of you, doll.”

“Our court,” you clarify, “What's yours is mine, husband.”

He studies your face for a few moments with a glint in his eyes, noticeable even through the reflection of the fire. You're not sure what he's searching for. Any signs you'd back down or try to run away despite his warnings? Whatever it was, it seems he reached a conclusion.

“We'll rid this court of Beron,” he extends his hand towards you, holding his palm up, “and give it a new worthy ruler.” Another bargain. He wants to add to your former agreement, that one would disappear the moment you got married anyway.

“We'll make this a better place to live, a court we can be proud of.” You have nothing else to lose. You take his hand and feel the magic instantly. You're now bound to Eris in an oath you intend to fulfill at the cost of your life. You'd make him High Lord or you'd die trying.

#eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris vanserra x you #eris fic #eris vanserra fic #eris vanserra #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #divider by saradika #fire on fire universe

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bi-writes · 4 months

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i didn't have an amazing christmas this year so i projected this onto bestfriend!roommate!simon and im sorry about it but im also not sorry about it but i tried to end it nice

more bestfriend!roommate!simon (part 6/?)

cw: mature language and content, mentions of past trauma, mentions of unrequited love and lack of family, mentions of death and loneliness, allusions to violence

you waited for the ringing of the call to stop. you were seated on the couch, the laptop propped up in your lap as you stared at the screen hopefully. your heart skipped a beat when the ringing stopped, a circling loading screen popping up until a grainy video came through.

simon was seated in the dark; you guessed that he was hunkered down in his room, seated on his bunk. he had his skull mask on; the plate sewn onto a balaclava, eye-black hiding most of him in the void of the terrible quality video, and you tried not to notice the mysterious drops of something against the white of his mask.

"hey, simon," you greeted him, giving him a gentle smile. simon ran a gloved hand over his head, nodding.

"''ello, luv. i know the time is bad, if...if you want to head to bed, 's alright with me."

you scoffed, "you know that's not happening. i don't care what time it is here...i always want to talk to you."

he grunted lowly, looking away for a moment at something out of your view before looking back. you moved to go sit by the window, keeping the laptop propped up as you looked outside. you could see the soft lights lighting up the neighborhood; twinkling lights, mostly in red and green, sparkling between the soft snowfall that had began to fall against the pavement.

there was something so peaceful about the moment. you could see the wind pushing the snow at an angle as it fell, starting to add a fresh blanket of white to everything. if you squinted, you could see two people in the apartment across the street, trying to build a small bike in the early hours of the morning. one of them held papers, instructions you guessed, and the other held a screwdriver and was trying to fit the two back wheels onto a base.

"how are you?" you asked suddenly, looking back down at the laptop. "you look like shit."

simon laughed dryly, "you can't even see me."

"i know you," you laughed with him. "and i know that even through the shitty camera, you're worse for wear."

he hummed, looking down for a moment.

"i've had better days," was all he offered, and you swallowed hard, trying to look at him better.

"i miss you, simon."

you said it easily. you did miss him. he was so far away; you didn't know where he was, but you knew it was far. and he did not say when he would be coming back; you suspected he didn't even know himself when he would be.

"i miss you, too, luv."

you looked out the window again. you looked at the couple again, watching one of them take a few bites of some cookies that were laid out while the other had a few hearty gulps of the milk in the glass beside them. your eyes watered a little. their house looked...full. stockings hung over a dwindling fireplace, christmas tree lights giving the room a soft yellow glow, a mountain of presents gathered under a full tree of ornaments.

there was nothing in your apartment. no lights, no tree. you never liked to keep one; you had no one to buy presents for. and simon--this day only brought the wrong kind of feelings to the surface. feelings of torture, of unexpected discovery, of death and the stench of it which couldn't be covered by lighting evergreen candles or baking sugar cookies.

so much of the day surrounded family--of which you didn't have. no one to visit, no one to bring the wine while you cooked the ham, no one to hand you a gift and no one for you to give one to either. you had learned a long time that it was best not to dwell, but it was hard. it was hard when you looked across the street and saw people that had so much more of something. something that you desperately wanted, but couldn't be bought.

when you looked back down at the laptop, simon could see the tears in your eyes clear as day. your eyes were so glossy and wet, and he swallowed hard as he looked at your face, illuminated by the twinkling lights that were bright outside.

"sorry--" you whispered, reaching up and wiping your cheeks with the sleeves of your sweater. "sorry, i don't know why...i don't know what's wrong with me." you laughed it off, but simon could hear the pain in your voice. something aching and scratchy, something hollow.

"did...did you get what i sent?"

you looked up at him, frowning a little.

"sent? like...a package?"

"oh, christ, luv, don't tell me you haven't left the flat all day?"

you opened your mouth to respond, but you closed it, smiling shyly.

"just...go check outside. i can see it bloody snowing, go get it before it gets ruined."

you got up from your seat, going outside momentarily. when you came back inside, you had a wet box in your hands, and you set it down on the table as you when to go get something to cut the tape off. when you had opened the box, there was a smaller one inside, a nicely wrapped burgundy box that fit in your lap. you took a seat in front of the camera again, seeing simon's messy handwriting on the top of the box.

happy december 25th.

you laughed reading it, looking up at the camera after you reading the message.

"just another day, right?" he asked. you had new tears now, but they weren't sad. your heart was beating fast, making you take shaky, fast breaths, and you tried to smile, but it was hard.

"j-just another day," you whispered back to him. you took the top off the box, taking the tissue paper out to reveal a little plushie inside. it was a black teddy bear, but this one was unique. someone had fashioned a little skull mask of it out of felt, messily sewn fabric fit over the bear's face with the beady black eyes peeking out from the eyeholes--just like simon's. you picked up the bear, letting the box fall to the floor, and you tipped your head back as you tried to keep your tears inside. "simon--"

you and simon had never really gotten the chance to just be kids. to just be. to just enjoy and to receive something that didn't serve a purpose or a function, something unnecessary and trivial--something considered extra. because possessions were luxury, and you can't remember the last luxurious thing you had ever gotten.

"i know," he said lowly. "fuck, i--"

he pushed his own laptop down, and the camera tilted so you could only see his lower half. you watched him lose a bit of control, more tears coming down your face as you held your breath. simon cleared his throat loudly, ringing his hands together nervously before he picked the camera back up to his face.

"i'm getting the next fuckin' plane out of here, y'hear me?"

you brought the bear to your chest, hugging it gently before nodding. you wondered if this was why he had gotten you something like this--something to hold onto when he was gone. something to remind. something that would make you remember in the simon-shaped void you seemed to dwell in all too often.

"okay."

you had spent many december 25ths without him. you had spent many december 25ths right here, on a lonely windowsill, watching through the windows of lives that you wished you were living. this loneliness was not new--but now the loneliness was shared, and it hurt to share it.

you fell asleep there, watching glittering lights between the snowfall and holding the bear to your heart. the laptop went dark after awhile, and you slept there by the windowsill, wondering if anyone looked in and wanted to live this life instead.

the empty, quiet life of nothingness and bad dreams.

but it was something warm that woke you. a familiar hand, cradling the back of your head, whispering against your hair.

his breath was shaky. sucking in with difficulty, and then breathing out in rough stutters. your eyes opened slowly, your cheek squished against his tactical vest. you realized that he must've just gotten home--he was still head-to-toe in his gear, and you were staring up into the skull plate.

"simon--!"

you wrapped your arms tight around his neck, squeezing your eyes shut. you gasped as you held him close, and it took everything in you not to burst into tears. your heart fluttered at the thought that he must've left as soon as he told you last night--determined to get back to you.

when you pulled back, simon rested his forehead against yours. you nuzzled your face against his, soft breaths as you grounded yourself in the realization that he's here, he's with me, he's alive.

"just another day," simon murmured, gripping your head with both hands. you swallowed hard, opening your eyes and meeting his own. you swear you saw something sad in them, something emotional, tears of some kind, but he blinked it away before you could look too long. "but i...had to come home."

your nodded reaching up and putting your hands over his on your face.

"i love you, simon."

if he had paid enough attention, he would've heard what those words truly meant. that you didn't just love him, you love him. not want, need, not a preference, but a requirement. undeniable, endless, raw, soul-sucking love--the kind that tore up your insides and spit them out without remorse.

but how can you really love someone like me?

simon tangled his gloved hands into your hair now, tugging gently.

"i love you more."

how can you love someone who's already dead?

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty

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steddielations · 6 months

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Flight of Icarus lore dump part 2:

Part 1 | Character List

- Wayne has a green thumb. He reads Gardener’s Weekly magazine. It doesn’t say what he grows, but it says he buys vegetables from the store so I’m going to say that gruff old man Wayne has the prettiest petunias in the whole trailer park.

- Eddie sneaks into the Hawk with his best friend Ronnie to watch action movies and thinks Snake Plissken, Han Solo and Conan the Barbarian are cool.

- Eddie talks for hours about the intricacies of Elven politics in Tolkien.

- Eddie read comics as a kid and hid them all over the house "like a little squirrel" under the bed, behind the nightstand, under the rug. Wayne found his Uncanny X-Men in the freezer between stacks of tv dinners. Also, "Hellfire Club" comes from these X-Men comics.

- Floor time! There's a part where Eddie is literally just lying on his back on his bedroom floor counting down from a million. When Wayne comes home, Eddie army crawls on his belly to the doorway to see him.

- Eddie reads Gormenghast paperbacks, gothic fantasy novels. It mentions that Wayne saved them from the house fire along with Eddie’s guitar. It never says how/when Eddie originally got his guitar.

- Eddie says lots of cc’s original songs have D&D references. It's implied that he writes them. One is called “Fire Shroud” after a spell

- Eddie is called Freak King at school and Munson Junior or just Junior around town and he hates all of it

- Eddie talks about having anxiety a lot and it's implied he has had panic attacks in the past

- Eddie is the lead singer and guitarist of cc. He started the band with Ronnie specifically because it was required to participate in the school talent show.

- Neither Wayne or Al graduated high school. When Eddie (temporarily) drops out, Al celebrates.

- Eddie doesn't cook. He doesn't even own a spatula. The smell of cooking in their house actually shocks him and gives him a deep longing for family meals, which Al uses to manipulate him

- Eddie jokes about being into Saturday Night Fever and strikes the pose a couple times.

- Eddie knows how to hotwire and how to pick locks. Al taught him this at the age of ten. Eddie is "disgusted" with himself any time he does either of those things.

- Eddie "drives like a monster" when he's upset about something.

- Eddie smokes cigarettes occasionally. Weed is mentioned a lot in the book but it never says anything about Eddie smoking it or doing any drugs. He either doesn't smoke much or he hasn't tried anything yet in the book. Also, he’s just now meeting Rick. But It’s pretty clear after everything he went through why he would start

- There's lots of mentions of PBR and Bud Light. Though Eddie says he doesn't like to drink after his shifts at the Hideout (where he's a barback). He mostly drinks off-brand Big Buy soda in the book (he calls it "pop")

- Eddie's parents were married on March 12th, 1966. The date is inscribed on the bottle of their wedding wine. Eddie asks what kind it is and Al says they only had 'red or white' kind of money

- Al breaks out the wedding wine (to manipulate Eddie, you guessed it) it's red wine and Eddie really, really likes it

- Eddie went to War Zone with his dad for supplies for the truck heist (spike strips, coveralls, etc)

- Eddie's band played Exciter by Judas Priest at the talent show. The song was only approved because they emphasized the "priest"

- There was another (?) talent show in Winter of 1981 where Eddie's band played "Prowler" and they were kicked off stage halfway through because the song was considered Satanic, and the PTA visited all their parents for trying to convert everyone to Satanism.

- Eddie imagines hitting his dad twice. Once with a glass bottle and once with a metal wrench. (He should've- oops who said that)

- The only hug Eddie gets in the book is when his dad first comes back, Eddie knows it's the first step in his cycle of showing up, using Eddie and leaving, but Eddie still accepts the hug and feels guilty for enjoying it.

- It's implied Eddie gets close to tears a couple times in the book, but the only time they actually spring up is when his mom's favorite song (from Muddy Waters) comes on in the truck radio while Eddie is doing the heist with his dad and feeling awful about it. Eddie has several flashbacks of dancing with her to this song, it seems like his happiest memory that he always returns to.

- Whenever Eddie is doing what his dad wants (hotwiring, charming a person into their plans) he puts on what he calls his "best Al Munson smile" and he's terrified that it will eventually take over his whole face. There's a part at the end where Eddie is sitting in a jail cell and says "All I want to do is tear my face off. If a new one grows in it's place, maybe it'll make me a different person. Someone who isn't such a complete fuckup."

#eddie munson the nerd that you are #steddie writers eddie recites tolkien purposely to be annoying so write that down #these always get progressively sadder oh boy #eddie munson #flight of icarus #wayne munson #al munson #ronnie ecker #stranger things #i'm gonna do one more of all the places name dropped and then a deep dive into eddie's d word issues #mp

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anundyingfidelity · 6 days

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WHEN I WAKE UP, WHERE DO YOU GO? — Soldier Boy/Ben

Summary: When Soldier Boy was taken away and Vought faked his death, he dreamt of you non-stop while with the reds. Now, decades later and back in the modern world, he just has one thing in mind: finding you.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 1.6k.

Warnings: heavy angst, language, some nudity, sexual implied content, pregnancy, the usual stuff in the boys universe, death, AU where Soldier Boy was never with Crimson Countess.

If you'd like to be added, the taglist is here!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

Notes: this was a request for my 400 followers drabbles but i got more things in mind to develop an angsty one shot with a sad ending, so this is what happened. also thanks for being patient with me as i try to come back to tumblr and write. real life is not easy.

GEN MASTERLIST!

1981

He didn’t know where he was standing. He didn’t know the place around him, nor the people having a sweet ball, with the music playing and mingling with their laughs.

He could see the beautiful ladies swinging to the classic music in the gala, the supes he used to know in the back of the scene as if they weren’t an important part of it. Dressed in that green suit, mask off, he walked between the couples and the guests dancing. His eyes caught a stunning wine colored dress in the middle of the pale colors around. He knew it was you.

It was the first time in years he heard his heart pounding against his chest this fast, as he approached you. His hand brushing your bare shoulder made you turn around, a bright smile adorned your face appeared when you saw it was him. You quickly focused your attention completely to him, leaving the ladies you were speaking to behind.

“Ben! What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming!” you almost shouted to him as you dragged him with you to the less-crowded bar.

He furrowed his brows in confusion. “I wasn’t?”

You shook your head with a hint of embarrassment and placed your drink on the countertop.. “Edgar said you wouldn’t, so… I just thought you weren’t,” you said with a soft voice. “But nevermind that, I’m glad you’re here, I’ve missed you,” you beamed, this time your voice sounding happier.

Ben nodded, taking in the sight of your figure and your pretty face, delicately made up, expensive and graceful just for a night like this. Somehow, seeing you felt like ages. “You look perfect,” he whispered.

Under his gaze, he knew your cheeks were burning. He started fighting the urge of caressing your cheek but now, in front of all these people, it was better not to.

He always had this need of protecting you from the outside, from the world. Being the supe he was, he knew how fucked up everything around was. You didn’t deserve to see that. But countless times, Ben remembered your courage and the way you used to raise your voice to be heard. And still knowing you could take care of yourself, he felt the need of looking after you, of being your shelter. Despite everything, he wouldn’t forgive himself if anything bad happened to you.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “You look good too, but I bet you’d look better with a different type of suit,” you gave him a flirty wink.

He was all in that playful mood of yours.

“Probably later, if we leave,” Ben teased back, the distance between both of you getting shorter. He could smell the sweetness of your perfume and the taste of alcohol. “Whatcha say, sweetheart?”

“I’d say yes. Always would say yes.”

1983

Ben woke up again, in a place that was oddly familiar in the back of his mind. It was a big bedroom, he was laying on the bed, and immediately noticed the blanket covering his bare body. The sunlight sneaking in the curtains told him it was morning already. There was a heat coming from the other side and he rolled softly to see you, sleeping and tugging his arm against you.

“Good morning,” you mumbled, fluttering your eyes open. You leaned to place a kiss on his stubbled cheek, the blanket falling off a little from your breasts. “How you feeling today, my husband?”

“Husband?”

You chuckled at his confused face. “I told you I’d say yes, didn’t I?”

Ben snorted to himself. He didn’t even remember proposing to you, but it was better than he’d ever imagined. Looking back at you, he asked with a quizzical expression on his face. “Am I dreaming?”

You laughed louder this time. “No, Ben. We got married yesterday. Thought you couldn’t get drunk and all, is there anything wrong?”

He felt your hand caressing his cheek softly, as you placed your head on his shoulder and laid back down. And he felt not only the warm touch of your skin, but a coldness coming from a ring on your hand. He wrapped his own on your wrist to get a glance of the bright, gold ring adorning your finger. It was true.

You were his wife, and he couldn’t believe it.

1984

“Please don’t go.”

Your voice came out as a plea, and he, somehow, felt something was wrong. Looking around, Ben found himself in a cozy kitchen inside a house, and you were standing in front of him. He looked for the ring in your hand, and there it was. What the hell was happening to him? Why was he suddenly reminiscing every moment with you? And why this?

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Ben, I’m pregnant,” you confessed with glossy eyes. His face softened and he shook his head, part of him wanting it to be a lie. He wasn’t ready to be a father yet. “Please don’t go to Nicaragua. You promised you’d give this up, why hasn't it happened? It’s been a year!”

You were already crying, the tears coating your cheeks and he stepped closer to cup your cheeks between his hands, making you look at him directly.

“I really have to go,” he muttered as he wiped the tears off your skin.

Ben pulled you for a hug, as you cried against his chest and he soothed you softly, a side he never knew could have for anyone but you. He hated seeing you like this, but he knew he had to go. He was Soldier Boy, he’d come back soon, for you and the baby.

“I just want you to be safe and happy,” you mumbled, once you pulled away and wiped your face with your hands.. “You always wanted this, a family. And I want to give it to you because I love you… I wouldn’t want it any other way, Ben.”

“I love you so damn much,” he said, with a beam on his face and a spark in his eyes, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “How long?” he asked.

“Like four months…”

Ben smiled again, remembering the weird foods you were having, how you’d get sick all out of nowhere and the countless nights and days he took care of you, even if you got pissed at him because it all felt like you were useless. But he didn’t care about all that. How he couldn’t notice it and pull the strings together, he thought to himself.

Suddenly he kissed you sweetly, but so strong at the same time that you gasped against his mouth. “You’re the most amazing thing that ever happened to me, y’know that.”

His words made you smile against his lips, still trying to compose yourself. You nodded as you reached for his hand, entwining it with yours.

“I hope it’s a boy,” he said, before planting another kiss on your lips.

2022

When Ben came back to the real world, he thought of finding you. Butcher had facilitated your location in exchange for a deal, but a grave wasn’t the place he had in mind when doing so.

He already lost count of how many times he had arrived to grief and hate himself for leaving you and the baby that day when you begged him not to. It was late noon, almost dusk, and probably he shouldn’t be there, saying sorry to the air and the tree in your grave. There was an emptiness growing in his chest, like a black hole swallowing every single particle of life he had been preserving for you, once he came back.

Ben spent the last four decades dreaming of you, remembering every moment, either be happy or sad, the only thing that mattered was you. Whole you, with your beauty, your laugh, the kindness in your eyes every time you looked at him, and the courage in your heart. If only he could go back and change everything, he’d do it with no question.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t with you when you asked me to.”

He read the plaque with your name written on it and a small ‘beloved daughter and wife’ below, and his fists clenched tightly. More than ever, he wanted to burn Vought down to the ground. He had cried to himself, all alone, when he learned you were gone and to regret his decisions. It wasn’t enough for those fuckers to take his child and raise him in a damn lab to be a monster, but they had to kill you.

Ben remembered the things this Hughie kid had told him; about you trying to look for your husband for months non-stop after he went missing and the fake story of his death was released to the world. You spent day and night doing research, getting involved with different organizations even when your son was born, and when Vought sensed you were moving masses, they decided to get rid of you and take his son away. Ben was sure you knew pretty well the dirty secrets, and taking threats out of the radar was their specialty.

Now he had to take Homelander down. The only bond that joined you and him resulted to be a stupid, crying asshole, all because of the whim of some rich men running a pharmaceutical. Supes were a lie, but he was a soldier. And he had promised himself to avenge you, whatever the cost was.

“I love you,” Ben whispered to the wind. “I hope you understand why I’m doing this.”

“I'm pretty sure she’d be okay with it,” Butcher said, standing a couple of feet back.

Ben had been used to the british fucker to appear out of nowhere. Butcher was the one taking him to the cemetery after all.

“Yeah, I hope so,” Ben said back. The sadness and grief fell off his face as he turned around to meet Butcher. “Let’s go then, I want to take them fucking down.”

Soldier Boy taglist: @delaynew @k-slla @thesilmarillionblog @onlyangel-444 @mrsjenniferwinchester @daisy-the-quake

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy angst #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy imagines #the boys soldier boy #jensen ackles

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charmandabear · 2 months

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Office Hours - Chapter Six

Summary:

Astarion surprises you with a night at the theatre that doesn't go quite according to your plan.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.7k Tags/Warnings: rough/angry sex, hair pulling, emotional manipulation, dubcon, bad BDSM practices, angst, daddy kink, reminiscent of Ascended!Astarion, discussions of domestic abuse (in Taming of the Shrew)

Hi. Hello. My sweets. My darlings. This is it. The chapter where you absolutely must mind the tags. Just know that I won't take you anywhere that we won't be able to come back from. Know that I, too, am an absolute baby when it comes to intense subject matter in fics. But I want you to take care of yourselves and your hearts. As always, shoot me a message if you'd like more specifics.

Photo credits: Zaria for Green Pussy Suit Astarion and Nephi Garcia for the incredible dress.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

“In the library? Babes, are you insane?” Shadowheart's voice reaches a pitch you’re fairly sure only dogs can hear. You curl your knees into your chest and cover your face in your hands, feeling the exact appropriate amount of shame.

“I know, I know. All logic goes out the fucking window around him. All I can think is ‘mm, good dick makes brain go brr.’” You let out a frustrated sigh into your hands.

“Do you want to get fired?” She pulls your hand from your face so you can't hide from her pointed stare.

“Oh trust me, I ran about forty different scenarios of that happening through my head on the drive home.”

“Did you, now? And in how many of these did he also get fired?” Shadowheart presses, knowing how your anxiety can get out of hand.

“Like, two,” you groan and drop your head back onto the couch cushions. “I don't know what comes over me. I feel like I can't tell him no.”

“Wait, wait.” Shadowheart grips your knee, suddenly worried. “You can't tell him no as in it feels too good to stop? Or as in it doesn't feel safe to say no?”

“Nine hells, no, the first one!” you respond, horrified. She squints at you and you squirm under her gaze until you’re finally more truthful, both with her and yourself. “Well, I mean, mostly. Like it's not like that. But like also not not like that, you know?”

“I can assure you I do not,” she says in a flat voice, not interested in joking around. You sigh dramatically, trying to find the right words to describe how you feel.

“Like. Okay. Am I fully consenting to everything we do? Yes. 100%. Oh gods, yes.” Your cheeks tinge pink even thinking about it. “But like… am I going against my best judgment? Do I feel like I should say no? Does part of me kinda wish I would say no? Like… maybe?”

“Tav, that's not okay. You need to talk to him about this.” Shadowheart’s voice is soft with genuine worry. Which is ridiculous, because she’s focusing on the wrong thing.

“No, see, that's the thing. It's not actually a him issue, it's a me issue. Like there's something wrong with me, I see his most toxic traits and suddenly I'm like a horny teenager!” Your voice increases in pitch as you grow more hysterical. “How am I supposed to call him out on it when the only words that will come out of my mouth are ‘yes daddy, more please’?”

“Is there anything redeemable about him at all? Besides being good in bed?” She leans back, taking a sip of her wine and fixing you with an incredulous look.

“I mean… yeah. He’s witty, and bantering back and forth with him is fun. He’s incredibly smart, as loath as I am to admit it, and I like hearing his ideas on things, especially his interpretation of Shakespeare’s text.” You don't even notice the smile growing on your face, but Shadowheart does. “And he’s got this unexpectedly soft side. Like he seems cold and aloof on the outside, but he cares, deeply. About his students, about his cat, about-”

“About you?” she interjects, and your smile falters.

“I don't know, Shade,” you say quietly, almost ashamed to look her in the eye. “I think so. I hope so. But it's not like we've been seeing each other for that long, he’s under no obligation to feel anything.” You practically swallow the last sentence, a truth you're reticent to voice.

“And you?” she asks softly.

“Man, I don't fucking know. I just want to keep getting laid and not catch feelings, is that so much to ask?” you whine. She laughs, but you can tell that she's only humoring you.

“For you? Probably.”

***

It's been several days and your busy schedules have kept you and Astarion apart for most of it. Save the occasional tension-filled passing in the hall, you've barely interacted at all. You're almost beginning to believe that your whirlwind affair has come to an end when you find a mystery package at your apartment door.

It's made out to you with no discernable return address. You bring the box into your apartment while examining it, trying to ascertain its origin. It doesn't even really look like it was sent through the mail, it looks like it was dropped off.

You take out your phone and call down to the front desk. It rings a few times, then a somber voice answers.

“What dost thou require?” His voice is deep and crackled, like some ancient eternal being.

“Hi Withers, it's Tav in 3C. Do you know anything about this package that was left at my door?”

“I have inspected it, and determined it safe for you to open. It was brought by someone claiming to be a friend.”

“Can you tell me anything about this someone?”

“No.”

And the line goes dead. You laugh and shake your head. If Withers says it's safe, then it probably is. You’d trust that wrinkly old man with your life, honestly. You cut open the tape sealing the box shut and lift off the top.

Inside is something wrapped in tissue paper with a note stuck to it in Astarion's immaculate handwriting.

Tomorrow evening The Rosewood Seven o’clock Wear nothing underneath

You let out a small involuntary moan when you read the last three words. You carefully unwrap the tissue paper to find a fabric that looks like it's made of starlight. You pull out the midnight black dress and go slightly breathless when you get a good look at it.

It’s a backless dress with a sweetheart neckline and intricate gold embellishments that almost make it look like armor. It has a lavish gold neck piece attached by several gold chains that drip over the skin. The skirt is made of a weightless black fabric that shimmers with gold as you move it in the light. It almost appears to be cut into two panels with dual hip-high slits.

With a dress cut like this, you wouldn't be able to wear undergarments even if you wanted to.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you think about what he might have in store for you. You're not even sure what's running at the Rosewood right now, but it could be complete trash and you wouldn't even care. You probably won't even be able to pay attention, too distracted by Astarion sitting next to you for two hours.

You feel a pulsing between your legs at the thought. You think of his hand sliding up your knee while you struggle to keep a straight face. Or him reaching an arm around you, gently sliding his fingers into your hair before giving it a sharp tug.

Another moan works its way out of your throat and you follow it up with an annoyed groan. You can really get swept up at the most inconvenient times. It’s not like you don’t have any work you need to do or anything. You roll your eyes as you stalk off to draw a bath.

***

Waiting in the lobby of the theater, you’re feeling surprisingly nervous. The dress, though beautiful, is not particularly comfortable. With all of its various chains and pieces, you needed Shadowheart’s help just to put it on. It helps that she’s also incredibly talented when it comes to hair and makeup, so in truth you feel positively glamorous.

When you see Astarion, however, everything goes silent. You’re certain that he’s posing for you the way he’s stopped to adjust his cuff. The cut of the suit he’s wearing is exceptionally flattering and you imagine running your hands all over the emerald velvet. His crisp white button down is almost sheer and you desperately want to pull him into you by that forest green silk tie.

But you can’t tear your eyes away from his face. This is the first time you've seen him wear makeup, and the simple smokey eyeliner look makes his red irises pop. He’s decided to forgo his glasses, presumably opting for contacts instead to show off the makeup. He’s also swapped out his standard silver hoops for little daggers with a red rhinestone glimmering at the hilt.

He looks up at you the moment you lay eyes on him, or more specifically, the moment your heart starts to beat out of your chest. He flashes you a devastating smile before striding up to you and pulling you into a deep kiss. You can’t even be bothered to care that the other patrons are probably staring as he slides his hand onto your bare lower back, his cool touch sending a shiver up your spine.

He pulls away from you just enough to breathlessly ask, “Are you ready to sit down?”

“Huh?” You’re distracted, too busy plotting a mental path to the bathrooms to fuck him. He lets out a winded chuckle.

“The play. House is open, would you care to find our seats?” His palm is still pressed against your back and you can barely form coherent thoughts. You still don’t even know what play you’re here to see. You just want—no, need—to be near him.

“Um, yeah,” you respond, still trying to get your bearings and remind yourself how to be a person. You let him lead you into the theater, and only once you're in your seats do you realize that neither of you grabbed a program. You pull out your phone to see if you can look it up, but service in the Rosewood is notoriously bad. Instead you just need to sit still next to Astarion, who looks like a dream and smells even better.

He glances at you as your heart quickens again and his lips curl into a smile. He slips his hand behind your neck and lightly runs his finger along the seam between the golden collar of the dress and your flesh, sending goosebumps down your arms. He leans toward you until his lips are almost brushing your ear.

“You look absolutely ravishing, my dear,” he whispers, his breath tickling your earlobe. You turn your face toward him on instinct, your chest heaving as you try to steady your breathing. Your lips hover inches apart, anticipating the kiss, when suddenly a throng of noisy actors come barreling down the aisles. You snap away from Astarion as the cacophony of their shrieks of laughter, calls across the audience to one another, and drunken banter fill the house.

One of them clambors onto the stage and shouts, “For God’s sake, a pot of small ale!” He’s dressed in rags and appears by far to be the drunkest of them all. Three servingmen swarm him with various shouts of, “Will’t please your honor?” He shoves them all away and proudly takes up space center stage.

“I am Christophero Sly! Call not me ‘Honor’ nor ‘Lordship,’” he bellows as the rest of the players make their way onto the stage.

Christopher Sly… you’re wracking your brain to remember which play he serves as a framing device for. Most productions cut this scene because it’s long and completely irrelevant. You just can’t for the life of you remember which play he appears in.

The scene continues with their drunken antics and slapstick comedy as the players address Sly as “my noble lord,” making him believe he’s a king that they’re about to perform for. Eventually they carry Sly out on a makeshift palanquin as the “play within the play” begins. Two handsome young men in preppy clothes enter, holding a book and wearing glasses that aren’t too dissimilar from Astarion’s round metal ones. The one without the glasses speaks first.

“Tranio, since for the great desire I had to see fair Padua…”

Tranio? Isn’t he one of the characters in Taming of the Shrew?

He knows you don’t like this play.

Well, if it’s all that’s playing at the Rosewood right now…

But if that’s the case why not just, like, see a movie?

You shift uncomfortably in your dress and cast your gaze towards Astarion. He smiles, taking your fingers and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles before turning back to the stage. He keeps your hand in his, absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

You can feel your heart pounding in your ears and you find yourself wondering what’s running through his head. Just when you think you have him figured out, he does something to surprise you. And honestly, not always in a good way.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. You know the creative team at the Rosewood wouldn’t pick this show if they weren’t going to try to do something with it.

But even still… is this text even redeemable?

You sit through the entirety of the show cringing as the audience around you laughs at flagrant displays of domestic abuse. The actors, several of whom you’ve worked with before, are trying their hardest to make the lines playful, but some things just can’t be recovered. Between the forced starvation, physical intimidation, and gaslighting, you wonder why companies even bother performing this play anymore. No matter how witty the writing is, it’s just too out of date to be a good season choice.

When the time comes for Kate’s final monologue, you watch in pain as the actress tries to wink-wink-nudge-nudge her way through lines like “place your hands below your husband’s foot.” She’s young, and you wonder if this is one of her first professional gigs. You get a little sad knowing that she’s probably just desperate to do anything, even if it’s trash.

Maybe you’re being a little harsh. All of the individual elements of the show—the acting, set, costumes, direction, lighting—were quite good. You just can’t get over how irredeemable this text is. Worth teaching, yes, and maybe even taking Act II out of context just for the fun banter and clever wordplay. But professional theatre companies should really just retire this one.

In the Lyft back to your apartment, you decide to get Astarion’s take on the matter.

“Do you think it’s possible to redeem a text like Taming in a modern age?”

He pauses for a moment, continuing to look away from you and out the window.

“I do, yes,” he finally answers. “I think it takes a skilled hand, but it can be successful when done well.”

You sit on his response, chewing it over. You decide to take a different route.

“I guess a better question is do you think it’s worth trying to? Like, what are we getting out of it anymore?”

“Is entertainment not enough?” he says with a laugh. You wrinkle your nose at him.

“Sure, if you’re a basic ass bitch. But I want my art to mean something. And I can’t think of what this play can possibly mean if it’s not ‘shrill women are annoying and should learn their place.’” You cross and uncross your legs, trying to keep yourself decent.

“Last I checked, you enjoy being put in your place,” he says in a low hum and your pussy betrays you with a clench.

“Shut up,” you grumble, and you’re grateful that the dark car hides your reddening cheeks. “It’s different.”

“Is it, though? Ultimately it is a text about two dysfunctional people finding comfort in one another.” His sincerity catches you off guard, and almost makes you angry that he’s been taken in by the propaganda.

“That’s only a valid interpretation if you ignore half of what happens in the play. They’re not equally dysfunctional, Kate literally gets beaten into submission and pretends to be happy about it. Petruchio is exactly the same from the start to the finish, he has no fucking character arc.” Your hands start to shake as you try to keep your cool. You’ve had this conversation far too many times with men who think they can interpret out the sexism by simply glossing over Kate’s abuse.

The Lyft stops in front of your building and you thank the driver as you get out. Astarion follows you, and you’re not even sure if you want him to accompany you upstairs. But you remain silent as you walk past Withers and into the elevator.

“You’re overreacting,” Astarion says once the elevator doors close. “People are drawn to this play for a reason. The text is excellent, and no one truly thinks of Petruchio as an abuser.”

“Are you joking?” Your voice gets shrill and the similarity to Kate isn’t lost on you. “The whole thing normalizes his abuse. The fact that people don’t think of him as an abuser is the problem.”

“It’s a slapstick comedy,” he snaps, his voice growing stern. “Are you going to tell me that we need to cancel the Three Stooges because it promotes violence?”

“Don’t be fucking condescending,” you spit. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

“How is it not the same? Suddenly because it’s a woman in the role it no longer counts? Are you implying that women should be barred from certain types of performance because of their gender?” He walks past you into your apartment and you throw your keys and bag on the counter, not even bothering to see where they land.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying, now you’re just twisting my words,” you grumble, more frustrated than ever by your inability to match his eloquence.

“So use your own words,” he sneers, whirling around to face you. “How is it not the same?”

“It’s because- well, I- It’s different, just- argh!” Your head is clouded by your attraction to him, which has annoyingly only grown over the past few minutes of shouting. You’re suddenly reminded of the smug arrogant bastard that you first met. He lets out a jeering laugh.

“See? You can’t even defend your own point.”

His sardonic cruelty sets something off in you and you angrily grab the lapel of his green suit. Your intentions are a complete mystery even to you, because as soon as you’re within inches of one another, instincts take over. You crush his lips into yours and pull him backwards until you thump against the door behind you. He paws hungrily at the dress, sliding his hand under the slit and around to grab your bare ass. You gasp into his touch, feeling equally frustrated and aroused that he even controlled what you wore tonight.

Your fingers make their way into his hair and you pull hard, breaking the kiss and leaving his mouth open, panting. His eyes are sparkling with a fire that you haven’t seen yet and a low growl manifests in your throat. He smirks and buries his teeth into your shoulder, something he usually asks bespoke permission for. You cry out in response, twisting your hands tighter into his silvery locks.

He unlatches from your shoulder and pushes his knee past the front of your skirt and up onto your bare cunt. You grind wantonly against the velvet as he kisses you with bloody lips. He grabs hold of the delicate chains of the dress and yanks, detaching them from the collar and making the entire bodice crumple and pool around your waist. Your nipples immediately harden at the sudden exposure to cold air and he pinches one sharply between his fingers. Your hips roll into his leg as you groan, fully ruining his pants. He continues to bite around your neck and shoulders, placing little puncture wounds in his path, marking you as his.

You grab onto his tie and push him away so you can shimmy out of the rest of the dress. You’re now down to just the gold collar of the dress and your heels, a look you wish you could hate but don’t. You pull him across your living area and toward your bedroom, shoving him down onto the edge of the bed.

“Thou hast hit it, come, sit on me,” he says, quoting Petruchio with a sinister grin. Kate’s retort falls out of your mouth reflexively.

“Asses are made to bear, and so are you,” you hiss as you straddle his hips, wrapping his tie around your hand until you’ve gripped it up to the knot. Your other hand violently unbuckles his belt, yanking it through the loops with a snap.

“Women are made to bear, and so are you,” he says with a caustic laugh, digging his nails into your ass cheeks. You tug sharply on his tie, bringing his lips close to yours.

“No such jade as you, if me you mean,” you snarl and silence him with an angry kiss. You don’t want to encourage his idiotic behavior, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said this wasn’t a fantasy you’ve had before. You fumble with the buttons of his suit jacket, trying to get him undressed as quickly as possible. You’re not sure if you feel more vulnerable or more powerful being undressed while he’s still fully clothed, but either way you want him naked, now. You get about three buttons into his shirt before you grow impatient, ripping it the rest of the way open and sending buttons flying.

Good. Let him need to repair his clothes for once.

You push him flat onto his back and descend onto his chest, alternating kisses, licks, and bites. Your dull human teeth don’t have nearly the same effect as his fangs, but it just means you get to bite twice as hard in order to leave a mark. He writhes beneath your touch, and you feel a twisted satisfaction at the quiet little grunts and gasps you’re finally pulling from him. He’s rarely this vocal during sex, and it’s only serving to spur you on more.

His groans build until you capture his nipple in your teeth and bite down, causing him to shout and buck his hips up into you. In a flash he flips you around onto your back and he bears down on you, eyes dangerous.

“Little love, do you think you’re in control?” he asks in a low growl, his hand gripped around your jaw. You sneer and slide your leg against the strained bulge in his pants. He hisses and your smile widens.

“Right now? Yes,” you coo, continuing to press your calf against his velvet-covered cock. You grab the tie still hanging around his neck and pull him close.

“If you want it back, fucking take it.”

If I put my hands around your wrists, would you fight them?

He kisses you roughly, catching your bottom lip in his teeth biting hard enough to puncture the skin. He pulls back slightly, a drop of your blood running down his chin and a snide grin. He makes like he’s about to kiss you again but shoves your face away before your lips make contact.

This is the worst you’ve ever seen him—the most arrogant, the most condescending, borderline cruel even. And you have never been more turned on.

If I put my fingers in your mouth, would you bite them?

“Is that all you’ve got?” you taunt, licking the blood from your lips. “Go ahead, choke me, daddy.”

The feminist in you is horrified, but the little gremlin controlling your libido is having the time of its life. It squeals with delight when his hand closes around your throat, just barely constricting your breathing.

“You insolent little brat,” he breathes into your ear, pulling up on your jaw. “I will absolutely ruin you.”

And there will be no tenderness, no tenderness.

“Do it, coward,” you spit, and he lets go just long enough to finish undressing from the waist down. He grabs your still heeled ankle and presses your leg up by your shoulder, stretching you wide enough to take him without any prep. You gasp as he fills you, the stinging pain outweighed by the gratification of finally feeling him inside you.

The only thing that I ask, love me mercilessly.

He sets a punishing rhythm, one knee on the bed and the other foot still firmly planted on the floor. He bottoms out with each long thrust and you grab hold of his hair to brace yourself. He winces with the pain but doesn’t slow down, and your moans grow high and loud as he continues to furiously pound into you.

“Gods, fuck, Astarion,” you keen, your desire coiling in your belly and threatening to explode. “Keep going, daddy, fuck me please.” He grunts with the effort and your dirty talk seems to be having an effect as his pace falters. You jerk your hips up into him, chasing your orgasm, until finally it barrels through you like a runaway train. You pull on his hair as you come and that sets off his, his pulsing cock pressing against the clenching walls of your cunt.

He stays deep inside you as the aftershocks reverberate through both of you, until the only sound remaining is your heavy panting. He drops his forehead to touch yours, a pleasantly tender moment after some of the roughest sex you can recall having. He starts to giggle and you follow suit, suddenly giddy. He pulls out of you with a squelch and walks to the bathroom to get a towel to clean up the mess you’ve left behind. He wipes you down gently, a surprising bit of aftercare you’re not accustomed to with him. He plants a tender kiss on your lips and you feel dizzy with affection for him.

You settle up against the headboard of your bed, his arm around you and both of you looking at your phones in a companionable silence. After a moment, he lets out a small chuckle.

“What?” you ask, turning your head towards him quizzically.

“I’m just shocked that worked, is all,” he laughs, shaking his head. Your confusion grows and you furrow your brow.

“What worked?” you laugh with him, but something doesn’t feel right.

“The whole night, taking you to see Taming, getting into just enough of a fight to result in,” he vaguely waves his hand, gesturing to the edge of the bed, “all of that.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean?” You pull away from him and your stomach drops. Surely he can’t be suggesting what you think he’s suggesting.

“You get riled up so easily, I thought this might be fun.” He still doesn’t seem to have picked up on your heart pounding in your ears, which is frankly unusual for him.

“Are you saying… Wait, are you saying that you planned that fight? So, what, we’d have angry sex?”

“Of course, you don’t think I actually believe anything that I said, do you? Taming of the Shrew might be well-written, but it’s a rubbish play to produce.” He finally turns to you and sees that you’ve gone white as a sheet. “Oh, darling, don’t take it like that, you’re positively adorable when you’re angry, I couldn’t resist.” He tries putting his hand to your cheek but you flinch away like he’s burned you.

“Get out,” you say in a low voice, unable to even look at him.

“What?” He’s still laughing. He doesn’t get it. “My sweet, didn’t you-”

“GET. OUT.” Your voice has a venom in it that even shocks you. He stares at you in horror until you shoot him an icy glare. “Now.”

Without a word he stands and quickly puts his clothes back on. You stay in your bed, naked and curled under a sheet, until you hear the front door of your apartment slam. With shaking hands, you call Shadowheart.

“Moonmaiden’s delight, did you enjoy yourself? It certainly sounded like you did.” The sound of Shadowheart’s bubbly laugh usually makes you smile, but right now it seeps into your skin like poison.

“Shade, please come over,” you whimper, and the second the words leave your mouth, the tears begin to fall. You don’t hear her hang up, but you do hear a muffled, “I’m going to fucking kill him!” through the wall. You pull your knees further into your chest and sob.

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