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writingonleaves · 7 months

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it's so hard to watch everything i want (everything i was spinning down the drain) - trevor zegras

pairing: trevor zegras x original female character

warnings: swearing, angst-ish, mentions of cheating (not between the two main characters), self-loathing, fluff

based on: "bleach" by 5 seconds of summer + "the archer" by taylor swift. title from "bleach"

word count: 15.6k

author's note: tried my hand at writing trevor's pov and it was Hard. this one means a lot to me personally so i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it! takes place at least five ish years from now so future fic alert!! trevor is finally employed again and that motivated me to finish this LOL

*****

Trevor Zegras is good at a lot of things. Remembering names and faces is at the top of the list.

It kinda makes sense. He’s been meeting and shaking hands with people ever since he was a teenager, most of them wanting something from him in one way shape or form. It’s not completely a bad thing. He wouldn’t have gotten this far without knowing who he was talking to.

So that’s why it’s such a surprise that it took him a whole damn hour to figure out why the wedding planner for Jack and Amelie’s wedding looked so familiar. Isabelle, she introduced herself as, and he keeps racking his mind to see if he knows an Isabelle, but he comes up empty.

As a groomsman, Trevor was expected to come to the venue earlier. He didn’t have to come a whole week earlier, but he had nothing else going on and the wedding’s in Michigan, so it wasn’t completely inconvenient for him. He just crashed at Jack and Quinn’s, to which the latter rolled his eyes at. But the soon-to-be-married couple were thrilled that he was coming early so they could put him to work, and he was more than happy to help out.

It’s halfway through assembling floral centerpieces when he shoots his head up to the wedding planner across from him. “Belle Holloway?”

Belle looks up with a small smile. “Been a long time since anyone’s called me that.”

“Holy shit. I knew you looked familiar. It’s been so long.”

“Z, are you bothering Isabelle?” Jack calls out from another table. “Please don’t scare her away. She’s been our lifesaver the last year.”

Belle chuckles. “You don’t need to worry, Jack.”

“Yeah, Hughesy. Belle and I go way back.”

Amelie is passing by and hears that comment, raising her eyebrows. “You two know each other?”

“We grew up in the same town,” Belle explains, tying a ribbon around a bunch of flowers. “My brother was in Trevor’s grade in school. They played hockey together for a bit before Trevor got too good and left.”

“Belle was probably the smartest girl in school,” Trevor adds with a hint of pride in his tone. “Can’t say the same about her brother. Where did you end up going to college?”

“University of Michigan.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jack smirk. Weirdo. He literally didn’t even go to Michigan.

Trevor whistles. “Still smart. Where is Connor these days? He went to UConn, right?”

“Yup. He’s with his wife in Chicago now. Doing something with finance.”

Trevor makes a mental note to reach out to his old friend the next time he’s in Chicago. “And little Lily?”

Belle chuckles. “Not so little anymore. She graduated from Parsons last year and works at Michael Kors as a designer.”

Trevor smiles knowingly. “Guess her styling Connor all those years paid off, eh?”

“Guess so.”

(Amelie and Jack are at another table working on centerpieces, overhearing this conversation. They give each other a knowing look as they keep eavesdropping. This is why Belle didn’t seem surprised during their initial consultation when they had to explain Jack’s hockey schedule and why he wouldn’t be able to adhere to the traditional timeline if he wanted to be at all the appointments. Little did they know, she already knew someone in the NHL)

She then asks about his family, because while Trevor was always her brother’s friend, their parents got to know each other pretty well to the point where they would go over to each other’s for dinner enough for her to remember. Trevor talks about how Griffin is off doing God knows what in Florida but having a good time at his sports marketing job and how Ava, who’s the same age as Lily, graduated from Elon and is now in the Philly area as a nurse.

They’re now moving pots of flowers around as they venture into their lives post-grad. “So have you been in Michigan this whole time?” Trevor asks.

“Yeah, though I had a brief stint in Santa Ana. This wedding is my last one here, actually, so a fun one to end on.”

Trevor follows her eye-line at the soon-to-be-newlyweds, who are now decorating the photo station but more fucking around then decorating. Amelie’s slapping Jack’s shoulder as he laughs loudly. Trevor smiles at the sight. “They’re great, aren’t they?”

“They are,” Belle admits. “I’ve worked with a lot of couples, but they’re one of my favorites. From the fact that they’re organized and flexible and so kind and understanding to the fact that they seem to be super in love with each other.”

“You said this is your last wedding here?” Belle nods. “Where you off to next?”

Trevor notices her stiffening a bit, and he immediately wants to take the question back. But the discomfort leaves as fast as it came. “Not sure. Gonna do some last minute packing up and then go home to New York next week to reset and figure it out from there. Connor offered his guest room in Chicago so I might take that. I have some friends that are dispersed around the country as well.” She shakes her head and switches topics and he makes a mental note of her vague answer. “Enough about me. How about you, Mr. NHL? Not gonna lie, when I saw Jack’s list of groomsmen, I had to brace myself mentally when I saw your name.”

“Brace yourself? What does that mean?”

Belle chuckles and his smile widens at the sound. “It’s been awhile, but not everything is different. I’m sure you’re still the life of the party everywhere you go, which means you’re at high risk of intruding on my meticulous plans on the day. Mind grabbing those shears for me next to you?”

He passes her the shears, standing up straight. “Jack’s conned you. He is way worse than I am.”

“Jack is also the groom so he knows that he has to listen to what I say if he wants things to go well,” Belle says. “How have you been, though? Has Anaheim been treating you well?”

“It has. The team’s great. The weather’s great. The beach is right there. Very different from Bedford.”

“Congrats on a great season. The playoff run was fun to watch.”

His eyebrow shoots up. “You watched?”

She shrugs a bit sheepishly. “If a game is on, I’ll usually watch. It’s like white noise to me now, after going to Connor’s, and I guess your games growing up. I went to a couple of Ducks games during the two years I lived in Cali.”

“And you didn’t reach out?”

She wipes her hands on her jeans. “I…you were always more Connor’s friend than mine. Didn’t want it to be weird.”

“It wouldn’t have been,” he assures. “Next time, let me know and I’ll get you tickets. You still have my number?”

“I do.”

“Perfect,” Amelie then comes up and seems like she has a question. “I’ll let you ladies be. Where’s your fiance?” He asks the bride-to-be.

“Quinn just arrived, so probably making sure the bar is all good, since you guys have your weird ass drink preferences,” Amelie says. “We should be almost done here though. Just have a couple last questions for Belle and then we’ll head back.”

Trevor snorts. “Typical. I’ll go find them.” He turns back to Belle with a grin. “Good to see you, Belle. Don’t be a stranger.”

Belle smiles. “I’ll see you at the wedding.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior.” Trevor promises, before walking away.

When things finally settle down a couple of hours later and he settles into one of the guest rooms for the night, he reflects back to his own childhood and memories of Isabelle Holloway, or Belle, as everyone used to call her. Brunette and green-eyed, Belle was decently quiet compared to him and Connor’s wild teenage boy energy, but she was talkative with her own friends and Trevor’s parents adored her. She loved Taylor Swift, and if Trevor looked into it deeper, her blasting her music around all the time probably got Trevor to like it purely through osmosis. She was always clean, happy to do the dishes and Trevor often caught her organizing the living room and basement without being asked. She was incredibly smart, always had her homework done before hanging out with her friends and seemed to always ace her classes with minimal difficulty. Even when Connor gave her shit just because he was the oldest sibling, she rarely dished it back. That kindness extended to all of Connor’s friends as well, including Trevor, even when they were loud and playing video games when she came home from school. Every memory he has of Connor growing up, Belle’s right around the corner.

Belle Holloway had always been too good to them. It’s a no-brainer that her profession is based on giving something to others.

He still follows Connor on Instagram, so he goes to his old friend’s page to find his sister’s page. She’s private, but he doesn’t hesitate on requesting her account. He goes to take a shower and brush his teeth and when he comes back to his phone, he’s delighted to see that she’s accepted his follow request.

Thus begins his stalking.

There’s not many posts to stalk — she only has 47 — but it does span the amount of years he lost touch with the Holloways. There are posts from her later high school years when Trevor had already left Bedford, and he smiles to himself when he sees the post from her high school graduation, with Connor, Belle and Lily all cheesing in one photo. There are various posts from her college years — she must’ve spent a semester or a summer abroad in Barcelona — mixed with some various travels from Yellowstone to Sweden to Miami. Then it gets less frequent after she graduates college, posts of the Michigan landscape, posts with friends on a night out, at a friend’s wedding, the rare photos of just herself. She notices there’s a guy in some of those posts, but no one’s tagged and the caption doesn’t reveal anything, so he figures it must be a friend or ex-boyfriend of some sort.

One thing that hasn’t changed much, he thinks, is how beautiful she is. As he scrolls on her Instagram and thinks back to seeing her earlier today, he kinda can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is.

The day of the wedding comes by and it’s an early start for the bridal party. Trevor rolls into the Planterra Conservatory at 8:47 a.m. with coffees for himself, Quinn, Luke and Jack while Cole had gotten coffees for himself, Nico and Alex earlier. The suits are already hung up by the window of the spacious room and beers have already been opened.

“Starting off early, eh?” He sets down the coffees on the table.

“It’s a big day,” Luke calls out from steaming everyone’s suits.

“That it is,” he stops by the chair Jack is sitting in and gives him a hug. “Congrats, man. You nervous?”

“Nah,” Jack smiles. “More excited than anything.”

Quinn grabs his coffee and sits down. “I stopped by the bridal suite just a few minutes ago. Amelie said the same thing.”

Jack lights up at the mere mention of her. “I’m just anxious to see her, to be honest.”

Belle walks in then, clad in a light green jumpsuit and a tan blazer, with a bright smile on his face. “Oh good, Trevor made it. Everyone all good in here? Do you guys need anything?”

Jack grins. “We’re all good here, Isabelle. Thank you. I’ll holler if we need anything. Promise.”

She shoots the groom a semi-skeptical look before nodding. “Okay. I’ll check back in, in 30 minutes.”

“Do you need any help at all?” Nico asks.

She shakes her head with a thankful smile. “You all are too kind. I’m good. Michelle and I are manning the floor. She’s kinda doing my job better than I am, when she has her own bridesmaid duties to worry about.”

“Impossible.” Quinn remarks. “You’re fabulous at your job.”

Belle rolls her eyes fondly, and Trevor’s reminded that even though she’s the one running the show, she’s younger than a majority of the bridal party. “Flatterer.” She takes her phone out of her pocket and clicks her tongue. “Alright. I’m out.” She looks at Trevor with a pointed look. “Zegras. You better come find me if anything goes wrong.”

“Why are you entrusting that responsibility onto me?”

“Because I have so many stories about you that I could tell everyone if you don’t listen to me.”

Trevor gasps in mock offense. “Belle, oh Belle! Resorting to blackmail?”

The whole room laughs as she grins. She stops in front of him, a more serious look on her face. “Call me if anything goes wrong?”

“I gotcha.” He assures her with a firm nod and she shoots everyone one last grin before walking out. If his eyes linger on her, no one has to know.

(Everyone in the room knows. He doesn’t notice them all giving each other knowing smirks)

Jack speaks up first. “Z, if you end up hooking up with my wedding planner, give her a good time at least. She deserves it.”

“Jesus Christ, Jacky.” Trevor groans as everyone cackles. Thankfully for him, they drop it after that.

The next time he and Belle get to interact is after the ceremony — to which he couldn’t stop smiling watching one of his his long-time best friends marry the girl of his dreams, proudly watching at the front as they exchanged vows to love each other forever — when it’s time for pictures and Belle and the photographer are working together to direct everybody where they need to go. Belle stops directly in front of Trevor and focuses on fixing his boutonniere. Her tongue pokes out as she focuses on making it straight after several attempts. Even amongst a crazy day, he feels a sense of calm surrounding him.

She huffs. “Why won’t your boutonniere stay still?”

He smiles down at her cheekily. “On my worst behavior.”

She snorts, before softening. “Thank you for earlier.” He knows she’s referencing when there was a minor mix up with the rings right before the ceremony was about to start and Trevor got it under control within 10 minutes.

“Of course.”

She puts a piece of stray hair back on his head away from his forehead and he feels his heart flutter at her light touch. She smirks a bit. “On your best behavior today, actually. Like you promised.”

“Don’t count on it once the open bar hits.”

She laughs before moving on to fix Luke’s collar and Trevor gets a second to finally take a normal breath.

The next time he spots Belle is well into the reception, when the dance floor is full and the drinks are flowing and everyone is enjoying themselves. She’s nibbling on a slice of cake in the corner, eyes sweeping through the crowd with a small smile on her face

Trevor, who ditched his blazer after ‘Mr. Brightside’ brought the place down at least 7 songs ago, strolls over, hands in his slacks. “Haven’t seen you in a bit, Belle of the Ball.”

Her nose wrinkles. “No one’s called me that since I was 6.”

“A good wedding to end off on?”

“I think so,” she smiles, staring at Amelie giggling as she pours a bottle of champagne into Jack’s mouth. “You having a good time?”

“The best. And I’ve been to a lot of weddings. You did beautifully.”

Belle waves him off. “All in a day’s work.”

“Do you still have fun at weddings? Since you have to work them?”

“Yes and no,” she admits. ‘Yes, because the end result is always worth it and seeing the happy couple live their day is always worth it. No because now when I go to weddings of my friends and family, it’s hard to turn my work brain off.”

“Are you allowed to dance at your clients’ weddings?”

“I usually wouldn’t,” she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Make an exception for an old friend? To celebrate your last wedding in Michigan?”

She looks away for a second. “I don’t want to make Jack or Amelie feel weird.”

“Those two couldn’t care less. I’m sure they’d actually encourage it.”

He shoots what he hopes is an encouraging smile as he offers a hand. She looks at him for a couple of seconds before letting him help her up.

It’s perfect timing as ‘Lover’ by Taylor Swift comes on and the once rowdy floor is calmer, with couples dancing with each other or families dancing with their kids. It’s a dance floor filled with love.

He guides Belle to put her arms around his neck as he carefully places his on her waist.

“I told Connor about seeing you again.” She starts

“Oh yeah? What did he say?”

“He told me to tell you to hit him up the next time you’re in Chicago.”

“Was already planning on it.”

“He also said and I quote ‘if the next thing I hear is that Zegras is dating my sister, I will kill him.’” Trevor tips his head back in laughter as Belle chuckles. “He’s lucky I never dated any of his friends. He had some cute ones.”

“Was I one of them?”

“Nice try. I’m not blowing smoke up your ass, Trevor.” She says dryly. “Besides, I was kinda kidding. It’s not like you or any of his friends would’ve gone for me anyways.”

Now he’s confused. “What?” He thinks she’s joking, but from her face he realizes she’s not. “You do know that like, half of the hockey team had a crush on you, right?” She tips her head back in laughter as he squeezes her waist. “I’m not kidding. It annoyed Connor to no end.”

She snorts. “There’s no way.”

“Up to you whether to believe it or not. Just know that I never lie, Belle.”

She hums, and the way she’s looking at him makes his hands start sweating. He hopes she can’t feel it through her jumpsuit. “What you’ve done with your hockey career and everything, it’s really cool. I’m happy for you, Trevor. You deserve it.”

And he’s heard so many compliments about his career throughout his whole career, but it’s different coming from someone from his hometown. Someone who knew him before he left and knew what he was like before the NHL — before his days at the NTDP, even. Someone who has nothing to gain from complimenting him.

“Thank you, Belle. That-that means a lot coming from you.”

She just smiles back before they fall into a comfortable silence and keep dancing. He twirls her and does an exaggerated dip that has her giggling. They keep dancing and dancing, even as the songs change tempo.

(Amelie, who’s resting her feet right by the dance floor, nudges Jack and gives him a look. She picks up a disposable camera and points it at them, before taking her phone and also taking a picture. She has an inkling that Trevor and Isabelle may want these someday)

“What are you up to before the season starts?”

He shrugs. “I’m not sure, actually. I just need to be back in Anaheim for pre-season in three weeks.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Quinn and Jack have been letting me crash at their place. Don’t have an exact date of when I’m leaving yet.”

Belle snorts, though it’s paired with a smile that seems fond. “Still the same, huh, Trev?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your spontaneity used to stress my parents out, even back then. The reason they still liked you is because you could charm your way out of it.”

“I stressed Kurt and Susan out?” He says, actually worried.

“Oh, hush. It’s not that deep. My dad loves watching you play. There’s been many a family call where I hear a Ducks game on in the background. Unless it’s against the Rangers, of course, in which you don’t matter.”

“To be expected,” Trevor says, heart lifting at the fact that two people who used to drive him around so much still support him, even from afar. “Do they still live in Bedford?”

“Yup. Though with the amount of time my dad spends in White Plains golfing, you’d think they lived there now. He’s loving retirement, clearly.”

Trevor laughs. “I’ll have to hit up Kurt when I’m back for a couple rounds. Does Susan still make the best apple pie?”

“Yup. And everyone still raves about it when she brings it to parties.”

“You think she’d make me a slice?”

“She’d bake you three pies and send you home with them to Julie and Gary.”

He grins. “Never knew little Belle was this sassy.”

“Because you wasted all your time with Connor.” She shoots back with a laugh.

(Honestly, he thinks as he twirls her again, maybe she’s right. Who knows what could’ve been if he had seen Belle as more than just Connor’s quieter, talented sister.)

“You said you’re leaving next week?”

“Yeah. Just need to sort out some boxes to move to storage before driving back to New York.”

“You’re driving all the way back to Bedford?”

She laughs at his slight disbelief. “Well, yeah. It’s only a 10 hour drive.”

Suddenly, an idea pops into Trevor’s head, and before he can overthink it, he blurts it out. “What if I came with you?” She blinks, and he forges on. “I mean, I don’t have much going on and it’d be nice to go home before pre-season. I’ll help you load your car and pay for your gas and meals and-”

“Trevor, I-are you sure? You don’t have to…we literally just reconnected after not seeing each other for over a decade.”

“I know I don’t have to do anything,” he says, now trying everything to convince her. “If I’m overstepping, you can tell me and I’ll immediately lay off. But it just seems like…maybe some company could be nice. And we could switch off driving too.”

She bites her lip and tilts her head curiously, trying to find something in his face. It only took her a couple of seconds to chuckle. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but sure. Why not? Come join me on my drive back home.”

He lights up, grinning widely. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“When are you planning on leaving?”

“Monday.”

In two days. Perfect.

“This is gonna be so fun. Just you wait.”

“I don’t doubt it. Fun seems to always follow you wherever you go.”

He has to let her go, since she has some last things to do as the wedding planner. He kisses her cheek quickly before he leaves the reception, to which Quinn raises an eyebrow at but doesn’t say anything. The next morning, during the quick and informal thank you breakfast for the bridal party at a nearby, fancy-ish brunch place, Jack throws him under the bus (“Saw you getting pretty comfortable with Isabelle yesterday,”) and he reveals their plan for the next day.

It might be one of the most TV show worthy reactions from every single person, bridesmaid and groomsmen. Luke chokes on his mimosa, Quinn shakes his head, Alex blinks, Nico has a shit-eating grin on his face, Jack smirks and Cole lets out a bark of laughter. The girls have all been filled in and equally have similar reactions. Amelie immediately says “you’re joking,” Michelle, at the same time as Amelie, says “ain’t no way,” Kaia, like Alex, just blinks. Nicole and Sarah’s jaws drop wide open, Annemarie starts cackling and Isla drops her fork.

“What?” Trevor responds, munching on his bacon. “Why all the reactions?”

“Z, are you sure about this?” Quinn asks, ever the voice of reason.

“Yes? It’s just a drive. Everyone needs a car buddy for that long of a drive. Gives me an excuse to go home too.”

“Trevor,” Amelie starts. “I think we’re all just a bit confused because this is…not that we don’t like Isabelle! She’s wonderful. But this just seems out of the blue.”

Jack snorts. “There’s nothing confusing about this at all.” Everyone, Trevor included, turns to look at the new groom, who just shrugs while taking a sip of his coffee. “He likes her.”

“For real?”

“Oh my.”

“Okay, Z! Atta boy.”

“Haven’t you not seen her for like, 10 years?”

“Have you liked her this whole time?”

“That’s crazy.”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Trevor says above everyone’s exclamations. He waits until everyone’s settled. “I don’t like her. Not like that, at least. She’s just…I don’t know. It was good to see her again after so long. It felt like going back to old times. Simpler times.”

“It’s giving childhood friends to lovers,” Michelle says, making everyone laugh. Trevor rolls his eyes again and the subject is dropped.

Jack volunteers to drive Trevor to Belle’s before him and Amelie’s flight to Greece tonight for their honeymoon. He doesn’t leave Quinn and Jack’s place without chirps from every single person still there, gathering their things and cleaning up. He makes sure to leave with giving Amelie a tight hug and a fond kiss on her cheek before playfully glaring at everyone else as he leaves.

He climbs into the passenger seat. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“We’ve known each other since we were 16, Z.” Jack says, starting the car. “Nothing you do fazes me anymore.”

Trevor just hums, staring at one of his dearest friends who is now a husband. “Congrats, Jacky. I know I’ve said it a lot recently, but I’m really happy for you.”

A small smile spreads across Jack’s face, as he automatically goes to touch his wedding ring. “Thanks, man.” Silence falls between them. “Did you ever, even just the slightest, like Isabelle as more than a friend? And be honest with me.”

“No,” Trevor replies honestly. “I always knew she was kind and thoughtful, but she was always just Connor’s little sister and kept to herself and her own friends most of the time.”

“And now? Do you like her now?”

“I don’t know,” Trevor replies honestly. If Jack is shocked, he doesn’t show it. Trevor clears his throat, “We haven’t seen each other in over 10 years. I don’t know her enough anymore to know if I like her.”

Jack just hums. “Look, I…”

“You what?” Silence. “Jack.”

“Amelie and I got pretty close with Isabelle beyond her being our wedding planner. Maybe it’s because she’s close to our age or just easy to get along with. I think…she never told us directly, but I think something happened, Z.”

“What do you mean something happened?”

“Well, I wasn’t there, but her and Amelie went out for casual drinks once to plan some stuff out and Amelie was, you know, casually asking her about relationships and if she ever dreamed of her own wedding, and she got super…not defensive. But Amelie said it was like a switch turned on. All she said is that at some point she did, but she’s not at that point of her life anymore, and then she immediately changed the topic. It’s none of my business, I get that, but she’s also my friend, Z. Just…look out for her, okay?”

“Of course I will,” Trevor promises as Jack slows down in front of Belle’s house. They both climb out of the car and Trevor grabs his backpack, duffle and garment bag from the backseat.

“Thanks for driving.” Trevor embraces his friend in a tight hug.

“Anytime,” Jack says. “Thanks for everything this last week. And just in general. I love you.”

“Love you too, man. Have fun on your honeymoon.”

Jack smiles. “Thank you. You two drive safe, eh? Let Amelie and I know when you're back in New York.”

Trevor just nods, before walking up to the front door and knocking. Within seconds, Belle opens the door with a wide smile. She looks beyond Trevor’s shoulder and waves at Jack as he drives away.

“Hi!”

Trevor can’t help but smile at her energy. It’s infectious. “Hey, Belle. Are you sure you don’t mind letting me crash for the night? I can always get Quinn to come get me later.”

She opens the door wider to let him in. “It’s not a bother at all. As long as you’re good with sleeping on the floor.” He just waves her off, setting his duffle and backpack down and looking around at the barren household. “I would give you a tour, but there’s really not much to see anymore.”

“You need any help?”

She smiles at him sweetly. “I have some boxes in the garage that you could help me move?”

He’s eager to help, until he lifts the first box, grunting about how heavy it is. Belle just chuckles, because why else had she not moved these in her car yet? If she has a professional hockey player volunteering to help her move, then she might as well put him to use, right? Trevor just rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but let a smile peek through at hearing Belle’s giggles. Once the car is packed (it takes longer than usual, as they stand out in the driveway and in the garage inbetween moving, chirping at each other and catching up), they realize it’s getting close to dinner time especially if they want to get an early start in the morning. Trevor asks what she wants to have (“as your last night living in the state of Michigan”) and she lights up, dialing up the place of her favorite Asian fusion takeout place. Trevor tries to hand over his card but she smacks it out of his hand, glaring at him while still on the phone.

It’s a nice day outside, so they decide to venture out and have dinner on the front porch that she’s going to miss very much, leaning their backs against the panels of the house, sitting a comfortable 4 feet apart, Trevor’s knees pulled up and Belle with her legs outstretched and ankles crossed. He watches as she looks out at the sunset painting the quiet residential street, which is even more stunning than usual. If you listen closely, you can hear the sounds of kids gleefully screaming and dogs barking here and there. For a moment, Trevor feels like he’s intruding as Belle continues staring out, lost in her own world. Her focus only shifts a few minutes later when a car rolls up with their take out, as she jumps up and accepts the food with a gracious smile.

He helps her open boxes and suddenly there’s a generous spread of food between them as they start eating.

Trevor breaks the silence. “You never told me why.”

“Why what?”

“Why you’re leaving Michigan.”

She’s in the middle of stuffing a crab rangoon in her mouth. She chews and swallows for a couple of seconds. “It’s a long story.”

“I have nothing but time if you want to share.”

“I lied. It’s not really a long story. Just a sad one. That’s just my go-to when people ask.”

“You don’t have to lie to me. Ever. But you also don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

She lets out a deep sigh. “I was supposed to get married earlier this year.”

He blinks. Once. twice. And he’s speechless for once in his life. She barrels on.

“Nate and I…I met him at UMich my junior year. I had full plans to leave Michigan right after college. Not that I don’t love it here, but I just wanted to go home. But he got an offer here after graduation and I found a gig working for a great wedding planner so I stayed. And it was good. The brief stint in Santa Ana I mentioned was because of his job, so we moved out there. But I really didn’t mind. I actually really enjoyed California.” She picks at her fingernails, “He proposed to me the beginning of last year, a week before we were gonna move back to Michigan. And I was happy. Really happy. So many years I had been planning other people’s weddings and I was finally going to have my own with someone I loved.”

“Belle, you don’t have to-”

She waves him off. “The day of our cake tasting, we were running late and he was in the shower and I grabbed his phone to put in my bag. And there was a text that flashed on my lock screen. ‘Missed you, baby. See you tonight’ and that was it. He had been cheating on me for almost a year. I moved out that night and crashed with a friend for a few weeks before finding this place. Grabbed my shit when I knew he was gone during the day at work. Canceled all of the deposits. Gave the ring back.” She chuckles, albeit sadly. “Funny. The week after I found out, I had my first consultation with Amelie and Jack and honestly, throwing myself into their wedding planning may have saved me, not that they know that. Anyways, yeah. That’s why I’m leaving Michigan. I honestly would’ve done it sooner but I had to stick it out for those two. They deserved it.”

Trevor’s silent for a couple more moments. “Promise me something.”

“What?”

“If we see him out and about, point him out so I can kick his ass.”

Her chuckle comes out broken but genuine. “Connor was real close when I told him. I was afraid he’d just start driving here. So you’d have to get behind him in line.”

“Gladly,” he scoots closer to her and offers an arm. She collapses into his side. “God, Belle. I’m so sorry. No one deserves that, least of all you.”

She sniffles. “It’s okay.”

“No, Belle. It’s not okay. What an asshole.” He can feel tears on his shirt and he starts rubbing her back in soothing circles. “You deserve someone to love you just as much as you love them. Someone to put you above all, who views your love and presence as a privilege. Because it is a privilege. I would know.”

She snorts, still sniffling. “You made fun of me all the time when we were younger.”

“Nah ah ah. Connor did. I didn’t. And that doesn’t mean I didn’t know how lovely you were even back then. Why do you think Connor and I were so against you going on a date with that guy…what was his name?”

“Trent.”

“Yeah. Trent. First of all, just sounds like a douchebag.”

“And Trevor is so much better?”

“Second, because he was an ass. We didn’t terrorize you about it just because. We terrorized you about it because we knew he had cheated on his ex-girlfriend.”

“Maybe if you had ever met Nate, you could’ve sniffed out his bullshit right away. Took me around 6 years to figure it out.”

“You’ve always had good judgment, Belle. No need to blame yourself when you did nothing wrong.”

“Did I though?” She whispers. “Do nothing wrong, I mean. What if-what if I was working too much or I wasn’t attentive enough or I didn’t-”

Trevor shakes his head adamantly. “Belle, no. Stop. Absolutely not. You did enough. You were enough. I’m not gonna sit here and let you pick apart yourself unfairly. You stayed in Michigan for him. You moved to Santa Ana for him. You gave all you had. And he’s the one who fucked it all up. That’s not on you.”

She signs, a bit defeated but musters a small smile. “Thanks, Trevor.”

“Of course.” He stuffs a piece of sushi in his mouth.

She shoots him a small smile that has him swallowing roughly. “Nonetheless, I’m really happy we ran into each other. It’s been nice to have a slice of home back in my life again.”

Trevor just smiles, staring into her warm eyes. “Me too.”

…..

It’s hour two into the 10 hour drive when she breeches the subject again.

“Connor never liked him.” Trevor turns to look at Belle, who has one hand on the wheel casually. He automatically turns the music down as she continues. “He tried to get along with him, for my sake. But Connor was never sold. I always thought it was just him being a protective older brother. When I asked why, he always just gave some vague answer. Didn’t like his vibe, or whatever. It’s been hard not to agonize over now. If I should’ve just listened to him from the start.” Trevor doesn’t know what to say, but just faces her fully so she knows that he’s listening. She lets out a heavy breath as she puts her sunglasses atop her head. “I never asked. How’s your love life?”

Trevor snorts and the playfulness is back in the air again. “Well, not married like Connor is. I’ve had a couple things here or there. Clearly nothing that’s stuck.”

“Any particular reason why?”

He shrugs, suddenly feeling a bit small even though he knows that’s not her intention whatsoever. “I think when people date me, they don’t necessarily want all of me, you know? They want the jokester and the charmer. They don’t want the shifts in mood or the obsession of figuring out why I’m in a scoring drought or the insecurities.”

Belle hums sympathetically. “I think you just haven’t found the right one yet.”

“You sound like Quinn.”

She laughs. “From the small amount of interactions I’ve had with him, I’d say that sounds pretty on brand.” She shrugs. “You have time though. We all do. If that’s something you even want.”

“What? Marriage?”

“Yeah.”

“I do, I think. Want that, I mean. It’s just…hard. And scary. The thought of giving someone all of you? That’s giving them a lot of power.”

“I get it,” she says. “God, I really get that.”

“Is marriage not something you want anymore?”

She sighs. “I don’t know. I think I still do. It’s just…it’s still too soon, you know? And I don’t know if I have the energy to, like you said, give someone all of me again. I got hurt once. I don’t know if I can afford that again.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re one of the best people I’ve ever known. So anybody would be lucky to love you.”

And shit, that kinda slipped out. His heart starts racing as she looks at him briefly in surprise. “That’s…that’s very kind of you, Trevor. Probably too big of a compliment.”

“Not too big of a compliment,” he automatically responds, digging himself into a deeper hole that he can’t even decipher. If he thinks about it too hard, he would realize that this is the most open he’s been with someone outside of his tight circle in awhile. And a week ago, she hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“You know, you were my favorite out of Connor’s friends back then.”

A pang of satisfaction touches his heart and he’s grinning. “Yeah?”

Belle rolls her eyes at his slight smugness. “Don’t let that get to your head.”

“Too late.”

“I don’t know. I just..liked how friendly you were to everyone you encountered. I don’t think there was ever a time when you came over and didn’t strike up a conversation with me. Even though I was quiet and shy, you still always treated me like a person.”

“I feel like that’s the bare minimum, no?”

She shrugs. “Now that we’re in our late twenties, sure. But back when we were 12, 13 years old? You’d be surprised.”

He watches her drum her fingers against the steering wheel, the patterned bandana in her ponytail swinging with the wind, wispies from her ponytail framing her face. If he looks hard enough, he can see 10 year old Belle sitting on the sofa in the Holloway’s living room, a sketchbook on her lap and a glass of apple juice next to her. If he listens hard enough, he can hear her humming to ‘Love Story’ as he leaves Connor’s room to walk past her room in the hallway to the bathroom. Maybe he can even smell her vanilla body spray that used to always filter out of her room if he breathes in deeply enough.

All he can see and hear and feel is his childhood self. Looking at her makes him feel blissfully young, a bit naive and incredibly out of his depth.

She casts him a casual glance. “You good?”

Trevor grins easily. “Never better.”

It’s hour five after stopping for lunch. Trevor’s behind the wheel now and her legs are up on the seat with her as she stares out the window, her chin on her knees. He has an urge to put a hand on her knee. To comfort her or to let her know that he’s there, he doesn’t know. But he refrains.

“Belle?”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

She turns to face him, chin still on her knees. “Should I be nervous?”

He snorts. “No. I’m just a dumb hockey player. What could I possibly say that would catch you off guard?”

“You’re not dumb. And plenty. You knew me when I was 13 and in my awkward phase. That’s longer than most of the people I’ve seen in the last five years. What’s your question?”

Okay, Trevor can dissect all of that later. ““Are you going to miss Michigan?”

She lets out a thoughtful hum. “I’ll miss parts of it. I loved going to college at Michigan, made a lot of friends from college and work. And I grew up a lot here. Not to mention, Michigan’s almost unfairly beautiful. I’ll also weirdly miss my porch a lot. But also, it’s tough driving around with thoughts of Nate at every corner. Because he’s present in practically all the memories I have here. So I’m glad I’m leaving because I know I need to.” He turns to her quickly and sees her lip quiver. Almost as if he had imagined it, she offers a small smirk. “That’s the question you were so afraid to ask me?”

He sputters out a laugh. “What does that mean?” He asks defensively.

She shakes out her hair to redo her ponytail. "You never had a problem asking anything to anyone back in the day.”

“Things change.”

She pauses for a split second before tying up her hair and looking at him. “They do. I’m sorry for assuming they don’t.”

Hour eight and they’ve been in a comfortable silence for a bit now. One can only talk for so long, even someone as chatty as Trevor. Belle’s behind the wheel again and her phone is plugged in playing music. The playlist he had put on initially has cycled through and without asking, he plugged her phone in and shuffled a random playlist of hers.

He vaguely recognizes Taylor Swift’s voice and looks to see what song it is. ‘The Archer.’ His ears perk up as he listens to her softly sing along, and then, he’s actually listening to the words.

Belle’s eyebrows are pinched together as she sings about people seeing right through her and how all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put her together again. He wants to offer her a hand to squeeze, a touch for support, but he doesn’t.

He clears his throat. “So. Santa Ana. What was your favorite part?”

She automatically grins. “All of it? I don’t know. I liked my job. I liked the area. I liked the weather. It felt like a breath of fresh air, in a way.”

“Would you consider moving back?”

“Maybe. I honestly haven’t really thought of anything but leaving Michigan recently.”

He stops asking her questions. He doesn’t want to keep bringing up the pain.

By the time she rolls into the driveway of Trevor’s childhood home, it’s almost 8 pm. Almost as soon as she kills the engine, the front door opens, revealing both his parents. Julie runs out, only barely letting Belle step out of the car before throwing her arms around her. He smiles fondly as his mother puts her hands on Belle’s cheeks as the younger woman chuckles, before turning to Gary and giving him a quick hug as well. Trevor drags his stuff out of the trunk and shuts it, smiling to himself as he listens to his mother invite Belle and her parents over for dinner the next night and watching Belle nod enthusiastically.

She then turns to him and it feels like someone has reached into his heart and punched it. She smiles. “Thanks for the company.”

He puts down his duffle and scoops her into a tight hug, only letting her go after giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Anytime. See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

(And if he catches his mom giving him an inquisitive look as they all watch Belle back out of the driveway, he doesn’t say anything)

Tomorrow comes and Trevor’s content with mostly being lazy, adjusting to being home and around his parents. It feels weird to be in these walls without Griffin and Ava, but then again, he’s sure it’s one-sided. He moved away when he was so young, leaving behind his supportive parents and his even-more-supportive siblings. They got used to Trevor not being around.

He’s recapping Jack’s wedding to his father on the patio while his mom is preparing pies in preparation for the Holloways, the mouthwatering smell filtering through the screen door. He smiles as he recalls the week leading up when he went early and was roped into helping out, how beautiful Amelie looked and how he had never seen Jack that excited and happy before, not when he was drafted first overall, not when he won the Eastern Conference Final. He talks about how their vows made Trevor tear up and just how fun it was to celebrate two people he loves. He talks about reconnecting with Belle and briefly brushes over their drive back. He gives vague answers when his parents — mostly his mom — try to pry more, partially because it’s so much that he’s still trying to decipher it himself and partially because some of it isn’t his place to tell.

An hour later, he can’t help but beam as Belle’s parents greet him similarly to how his greeted Belle the day before. He helps Susan bring in the pasta salad and shakes Kurt’s hand, his slight nerves settling as the first thing Kurt says is how proud of Trevor he is. Belle is the last one who walks through the door, listening to the moms talking animatedly in her ear. She’s wearing a pink floral maxi dress with a denim jacket over her shoulders and she’s glowing. He itches to give her a hug but just settles for a grin instead before turning his full attention to Kurt.

It’s when the parents are filtering outside does he get a chance to say hello to her as they both hang back in the kitchen. She bumps her hip with his. “Long time no see.”

He pulls her into a side hug. “Hilarious. Want anything to drink before heading out there?”

She eyes the few bottles of wine in the mini wine cabinet. “White wine if it’s not too much of a hassle?”

He opens the fridge and grabs a wine glass. “My mom put a bottle in the fridge earlier. It’s her favorite, so if it’s bad, it’s not my fault.” She takes the glass from him graciously and he grabs a bottle of beer for himself as they both head outside.

“It’s weird being here without Connor.”

“I was just thinking earlier how it’s weird being here without Griffin and Ava.”

“At least we have each other, right?”

He hums. “Good thing.” She then gets roped into a conversation with his father and he happily takes a backseat, answering when a question is directed towards him but perfectly content in watching her.

(Julie and Susan, who had never really considered these two as a pair, nudge each other and exchange a few words, watching as Belle laughs while sipping her wine and Trevor just stares at her.

“She was supposed to get married last year. To a guy she met in college.”

Julie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Is that right?”

“Yup. Until she caught him cheating.”

Julie sighs. “I wish we could protect our kids from everything that could hurt them.”

“I do too.” Susan watches her daughter wistfully and lovingly. “She’s always thrown herself into work, But especially after the break-up. You have no idea how relieved I was when she told me she was coming home.”

“Does she know where she’s going next?”

“Not that I know of. For the first time in her life, she doesn’t know.”

“She’ll be okay,” Julie says confidently, rubbing her old friend’s shoulder. “I’ve never had any doubt about Belle.”

“But you had doubt in the others?” Susan teases as Julie snorts. “All our kids are doing well for themselves, but you have one who is the definition of achieving their childhood dream.”

Julie sighs thoughtfully, looking at Trevor. “He’s done well for himself, I think.”

“You think?”

Julie just smiles, clinking her glass against Susan’s.)

Meat is grilled, salads are tossed and food is eaten as the sun fades away. Sometime between sunset and when the sky becomes black, the fireplace is lit and the outdoor lamps are turned on. Trevor switched to water after his second beer, liver still trying to recover from the wedding festivities.

Trevor finds Belle sitting by the edge of the pool with her feet dipped in, sandals to the side of her. Her hands are folded on her lap as she stares down, occasionally kicking her feet a bit to make the water ripple. He clears his throat so he doesn’t startle her. She looks up and her lips quirk up at seeing him, but they soon fall, as she turns back to the water and tilts her head to the side, taking a deep breath.

Trevor licks his dry lips. “Come with me?”

“Where are we going?” She asks, accepting the hand he offers as she gets up and slips on her shoes, adjusting her dress.

“You’ll see. We won’t be long.” Wordlessly, they go around the side of the house to go to the driveway. He catches his mom’s eye and just offers a small smile. Julie’s eyes flicker between him and Belle before she nods. Belle doesn’t say anything as Julie tosses her son the keys to her car, letting Trevor lightly tug her along by loosely intertwining their hands. He opens the passenger door for her and she gives him a grateful look as she slips in.

He hasn’t been to his intended destination in at least five years, but he knows the route all the same, easily driving the seven minutes. He sneaks a glance or two at Belle as the minimal streetlights light her face aglow for a few seconds at a time. Before he overthinks it, he reaches out and grabs her hand gently, waiting for her to pull away. She doesn’t, instead lacing her hand with his and squeezing once.

“I haven’t been here since I was in high school,” Belle says as Trevor kills the engine, the tranquility of the small lake and lookout everyone who grew up in Bedford called “Pink Sun” due to the incredibly beautiful sunsets one could see if they were lucky, no one knowing that it’s actual government name was. He’s almost confident that this specific lookout is private property, due to the string lights adorning the trees meticulously that seem to always be on, but whoever owns the property clearly doesn’t care. He would come in the summers from time to time with friends like Connor after he moved away for hockey, but he knows he didn’t experience it the same way as others did.

“Which tree did you have sex under?” Trevor asks as they get out of the car and open the trunk. He quickly fluffs up the two pillows his mom has in the car at all times and pulls the blanket over them both as they get comfortable.

She chuckles and Trevor immediately smiles at the sound. “Gross.”

“What? Isn’t that what people did?” She just lightly slaps him before they both fall into a comfortable silence again. She takes her hand from under the blanket and reaches out to find Trevor’s. He offers his hand immediately. It feels like the most natural thing in the world.

She starts sniffling, and when he turns to her, concerned, he sees tears rushing down her face. He immediately wraps his arms around her and maneuvers her so that she’s crying into his chest. He tries to be steady for her shaking body, rubbing her back and muttering sweet nothings to assure that he’s here and she’s not alone. He places a couple of kisses on top of her head without thinking because there’s a split down the middle of his heart that’s widening everytime she whimpers.

She cries. The water ripples. Trevor holds her close.

…..

The entire time Trevor’s back home, he doesn’t go more than a day without seeing Belle. They get ice cream, sitting in the chairs that haven’t been replaced in at least 30 years and giggling as the ice cream drips over their fingers. They go back to Pink Sun to watch the sunset. Because this whole month has him feeling nostalgic, he goes back to his old rink in Stamford and she tags along, indulging him as he pulls up his hoodie over himself as they watch the last 15 minutes of a game the AAA team that Trevor used to be a part of is playing in. Some of the front office staff is still the same and they all immediately beam when seeing Trevor. He chokes up a bit when talking to some of them. He’s missed it here more than he thought he would.

After training sessions, he just shows up to her house without any warning. They take a lot of drives, passing by landmarks they know well and ones they don’t know at all. They spend hours chatting on the porch of her parents’ place, waving at neighbors as they walk by and petting their dogs. She doesn’t cry in his chest again, but there are stretches of silence where she craves a comforting shoulder. Trevor doesn’t hesitate to offer his.

He learns more about why she enjoys wedding planning and her time in Michigan. She learns more about how his goals have changed the longer he’s been in the league and his time in Anaheim. They both talk about times they feel like they’ve had their heart ripped to pieces and he finds himself admitting things he’s never admitted out loud to anyone — not Jamie, not Jack, not Cole, not Alex.

He wonders to himself how he’s lived this long without her in his life.

The day Trevor has to leave for Anaheim, she offers to drive him to LaGuardia, smiling as he hugs his parents goodbye in the driveway, promising to see them soon when the Ducks are playing in New York.

She shuts the trunk at the departures drop-off area with a wistful smile. “I’ll miss you, Trev.”

“I’m gonna miss you too.” And then he practically manhandles her into a tight hug, his chin resting on her shoulder, rubbing her back before pulling away. “If you ever wanna come out to Anaheim, there’s always a place for you to stay.”

“I’ll think about it.” With most people, it’s an empty promise. But with Belle, he knows she means it. “Good luck this season. Score some goals, yeah?”

He rolls his eyes, arms still around her waist. “Don’t be a stranger, okay? You have my number. Use it.”

She nods, tilting her head to the side. “Okay.” She presses a kiss on his cheek before he forces himself to let go. She sticks her hands in her jean pockets. “Text me when you land?”

“Of course. Bye, Belle. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye. Travel safe.”

Trevor forces himself not to look back as he walks through the automatic doors.

…..

The first roadie of the season includes a stop in Chicago, and Trevor doesn’t hesitate to text Connor. He feels the familiar pang in his heart again, guilty that he hasn’t reached out until now. But when he and Connor meet up for a quick coffee the morning of the game, it washes away quickly. They fall right back to where they were when they were 16, even though they’re both over a decade older and a bit wiser now. Trevor practically shoves two tickets for the game for him and his wife, even though Connor is trying to bat his hand away.

After the game, the three of them go to dinner and he gets introduced to Ashley, Connor’s wife, who is peppy and fun and he loves seeing her and Connor together. After dinner, Ashley excuses herself to go home as the two of them migrate to a nearby pub. They have years to catch up on.

“Belle tell you about the break-up?”

Trevor scoffs, taking a hefty sip of his beer. “Yeah. Fucking asshole.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth. When she decided to get the fuck out of Michigan, I was relieved.”

“Yeah?”

Connor sighs. “Yeah. I know she says she stayed because of the Hughes wedding, but I also think it’s because she had a hard time letting go. Which, you know, who can blame her, right?” Trevor just nods sympathetically. Connor leans back, eyes flickering elsewhere for a moment. “Thanks, by the way.”

“What for, man?”

“For looking out for her.” There’s a hint of relief in Connor’s tone. “She’s always been independent, I’m sure you remember. And she has a hard time letting people know that she’s struggling, even if we all see it and want to help. Whatever you did, thank you, man. It’s appreciated.”

Trevor bites his tongue. He wants to say that he doesn’t have to thank him for being a good friend, but Connor is adamant. So Trevor just smiles.

…..

The season’s in full swing, but Trevor makes the effort to keep in contact with Belle frequently. Whether it’s sending a meme or calling on his way to practice, Belle becomes a part of his daily life.

A month in Bedford now and he can tell she’s getting a bit restless. She’s taken up crocheting, which Trevor loves to make fun of her for. Until he finds a little box on his doorstep and opens it to find a crocheted Wild Wing. He hands it on his rearview mirror in the car. He doesn’t fully realize she’s watching his games until he sees a text from her after a game against New Jersey (“Don’t let Jack hang the win over your head too much. That slapshot was insane.”) and that has him grinning much too widely for someone who just lost.

On Thanksgiving Day, after one of the guys’ families hosts a Friendsgiving for the whole team, he’s back at his place on the couch when she calls him.

Her face comes up on the screen and he has to smile. “Oh. Hey.” she says gently. “I didn’t actually expect an answer.”

“You just caught me. I just got home from Friendsgiving with the team. Happy Thanksgiving, by the way.”

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

He doesn’t recognize her background. “Where you at?”

“My aunt’s. They’re all watching the game in the basement so I decided to take a break up in the living room.”

“Good food?”

“I’m fucking stuffed,” she admits, making Trevor laugh. “I’m not bad in the kitchen, but nothing beats a good homemade turkey and stuffing.”

“I feel you. So what’s been happening? Haven’t called in a bit.”

“It’s been, like, a week, Trev.”

“Exactly. A bit.”

She rolls her eyes, before leaning back further into the couch. “Actually, I do have news. Kinda.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I, uh, heard back from two people about a job. My old boss from Santa Ana said there’s a spot open for me if I want it. And then my boss in Michigan recommended me to someone in Manhattan, and she called me yesterday and also said I had a job if I wanted it.”

He grins. “Belle. That’s amazing! Congratulations. I’m not surprised though. I know firsthand how damn good you are at your job.”

He sees her blush slightly and he thinks it’s adorable. She twirls her hair around her finger. “Thanks. I’m, yeah. It’s pretty exciting. I’m excited to get back into it again.”

“So. California and New York. Those are two pretty different places.”

She sighs. “Yeah. That’s partially why I called you. Kinda want to get another opinion.”

Before he can stop himself, he snorts. “You’re telling me you haven’t made a pros and cons list already? Don’t think I don’t remember you forcing me to make one when I was deciding if I should go to Avon.”

She tilts her head to the side. “You remember that?”

“There’s not a lot of memories I have from growing up here that don’t have you in them. Of course I remember.”

She bites her lip but Trevor can see the smile peeking through. She clears her throat. “I do. Have a list.”

“So you’ve already made your decision.”

She opens her mouth. Then closes it. “Yes and no. I really do want your opinion, Trevor.”

“Floor’s all yours.”

“I love New York, but I don’t know if I can stay here. If I go back to Santa Ana, is it going to be like Michigan again? I don’t know what Santa Ana is like without Nate.”

“No,” he responds immediately. “It won’t be.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because Santa Ana is yours, Belle. No one else’s. You said it yourself. You loved your time there. If Michigan doesn’t feel like home anymore and New York feels too much like your past self, California is waiting for you.”

A couple seconds of silence before a small chuckle erupts from Belle. “You take a creative writing class at BU or something? That was actually eloquent.”

If he were next to her, he’d shove her off the couch. He just huffs as she keeps laughing. “My point is, is that you can make fresh starts in familiar areas. Plus, not that I have anything to do with this, but Santa Ana is pretty damn close to Anaheim.”

“Knew you’d say that.”

“I mean, can you blame me? ” He leans back on the couch. “I don’t think you’re incapable of moving on. I think, in a way, you aren’t ready to, and that’s why Santa Ana scares you. You have to and are inevitably going to make new memories wherever you are, but you just have to do it. Take the leap. Dive in the deep end. Whatever the fuck they say.”

And well, that came out a bit harsher than Trevor intended, if the slight flinch on Belle’s face is an indication. But she sighs, “You’re right. I know you’re right. Fuck, Trev. Maybe I shouldn’t have quit and stayed in Michigan.”

“Stop,” he says. “We’re not doing that. Now you have to come out to California. Who else is gonna tell you to get your head out of your ass?” His goal is achieved as she laughs. “Seriously though. Whatever choice you make, you have my full support.”

Four days later, he sees that Belle left him a voicemail in the middle of the game. She’s coming to Santa Ana. Trevor starts organizing the guest room.

…..

Three days into the new year and Trevor finds himself running out of morning skate to drive to LAX. Belle’s staying with him while she looks for her own place, at Trevor’s insistence. He told her she can stay as long as she needs. He hopes she takes that offer seriously.

He rolls up to the arrivals terminal and idles his car, seeing a text from Belle indicating that she’s still waiting to pick up her luggage. He leans back in his seat, taking a deep breath adjusting the baseball cap on his head, bopping along to the latest playlist that he made for this season.

He’s about to do a drum solo on his steering wheel when he spots Belle come out of the double doors, rolling two suitcases, backpack on her back and a tired but genuine smile on her face. He immediately leaps out of the car, running to lift her up in a hug, making her chuckle.

“Hey Trevor.”

He kisses her cheek before putting her down. “Belle of the Ball. How was your flight?”

“Good. Long,” she reaches to get her suitcases and he waves her off, lifting her suitcases easily into his trunk as she slips into the passenger seat. She sags into the seat and turns to him with a bigger smile as he turns on the engine. “It’s really good to see you.”

He reaches to ruffle her hair to ignore the funny feeling in his stomach. “Missed you too.”

They catch each other up on what’s been happening since the last time they talked, so only really the last week. Once he turns off the highway, he opens the windows and he periodically glances at Belle, who’s leaning her head on the seatbelt strap as the houses blur by. She tucks her hair behind both her ears and Trevor feels his throat start to close up.

“Hungry?”

“A bit.”

“Enough to wait a bit so I can cook something up?”

She looks toward him in subdued delight. “You cook?”

“Decently, I’d say.”

“What are you gonna make me?”

Whatever you want, he thinks. “I make a pretty good steak.”

“Well, I’m not gonna say no to a personal chef.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he points at her jokingly. She laughs, but honestly, Trevor doesn’t hate the idea.

Belle’s car got shipped yesterday to Trevor’s place the week prior, so two days later, when Belle starts work and Trevor has to go to morning skate, they leave the house at the same time after cups of coffee and climb into their own cars, Belle wearing a red sleeveless blouse and white jeans and Trevor wearing a Duck t-shirt and shorts.

Before she can fully get into her car, Trevor runs around and squeezes her, making her squeal. “Good luck today. You’re gonna kill it.”

“Thanks Trevor. Have fun at morning skate.”

“Are you still cool with a couple of the guys coming over for dinner?”

“It’s your house, dude. You can invite over whoever you want.”

“It’s also your home too,” Trevor insists.

She rolls her eyes fondly. “It’s not. But of course you can have your friends over. I’m excited to meet them.” She gets in her car, but before she shuts the door, she puts her head out. “Do you mind grabbing some orange juice? I think you’re running out and I drink more of it than you do. Just Venmo request me.”

“Yeah, I gotcha. Won’t Venmo request you though,” she opens her mouth to protest but he just taps the roof of her car twice. “We can talk about splitting stuff later. Bye now!”

“Dick,” she mutters as she shuts her door. He chuckles. He lets her back out of the driveway first.

That night, Mason, Jamie and Leo come over and the four of them are finishing up cooking dinner when Belle walks in. A bit flushed and sweaty, she’s nothing but smiles as she slips off her shoes, putting down her bag and introducing herself. She hugs each of them with a sweet smile before finally reaching Trevor. She hugs him like she did with the other three, but he thinks she holds on a bit longer. He smacks a friendly kiss on her cheek, but he catches Jamie’s eye as she pulls away and he knows he’s going to absolutely be grilled about this tomorrow.

Dinner’s practically ready and the guys just shoo Belle away to the dining table, Leo pouring out a glass of wine for her. They chat and swap stories over chicken alfredo and salad, and Trevor’s content sitting back and watching two different parts of his life come together, not even jumping in to defend himself that much when she recalls some shenanigans from Jack’s wedding. Sure, they at least know of Jack, Alex, Cole and other various members of the NTDP crew who knew him when he was 17 and stupid, but Belle’s known him since they were children. Whether she — or Trevor even — realizes it or not, Belle and Trevor know each other in the purest way. The way only childhood allows, where filters of judgment, insecurities and expectations cease to exist.

Even with almost two decades lost in translation, Trevor thinks, in a way, Belle might know him better than most. And he might know her better than most.

Which is why he can sense that an hour after dinner, that Belle is exhausted, so he takes the initiative and the guys immediately pick up on it, bidding Belle goodbye and making her promise that she’ll come to a game soon. Once the door shuts, Trevor goes to start washing the dishes, batting her hand away when she tries to help.

“Trevor. You cooked. I’ll clean.”

“Nope. Go to take a shower. You’ve had a long day.”

“You have too.”

He waves her off. “Go. I got this.” Her shoulders sag in defeat, but she shoots him a thankful smile and heads to shower.

He’s just about finishing up the dishes and wiping down the counter when she walks back in, an old Michigan t-shirt and flannel pants on. She has her book in her hands but comes by next to him. “Are you sure you don’t need help cleaning up?”

He puts the kitchen towel back on the hook and swings an arm around her shoulder, bringing her against his side. “I’m sure. Where you unwinding for the night?”

“Probably the living room, if you don’t mind?”

“Belle. My home is your home. I mean it. I’ll probably join you after I shower.”

And he does, coming back in afterwards with only the living room light being on. He sees Belle curled up on the couch, engrossed in her book as one of the candles he rarely uses is lit up on the table in front of her. The air smells faintly of pine.

“Do you mind if I put on some football? I’ll put the volume low.”

She hums. “Not at all.” With her feet in his lap, blanket tucked over both of them, Trevor thinks that he could get used to this.

…..

Two weeks later, they’re finishing up their takeout when Belle clears her throat. “So I found a place that seems promising.”

Trevor stiffens. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s about 10 minutes from here. Just renting for now, which isn’t ideal. But it’s so soon, you know? I don’t wanna buy yet.”

Trevor understands the latter part, absolutely. But he’s still stuck on the first part of what she said. “When would you think of moving out?”

“At the start of the month.”

“That’s next week.”

She grimaces, washing their utensils. “Yeah. I just…I want to get out of your hair as soon as possible.”

“Belle,” his voice lowers into a serious tone that doesn’t come out of him that often. It works, because it gets Belle to look at him. “If you want to move out, I can’t stop you. It’s ultimately your decision. But I love having you here. So please don’t…don’t think you have to move out to get out of my hair. Because you don’t. I’d love for you to stay and live with me. Full time.”

Belle swallows, searching for something in his face. “You mean that?” She whispers.

“Of course I do.” He pushes on. “And you know I’m a shitty liar.”

She chuckles as she finishes washing the dishes. On her way to the bathroom, she stops and just hugs Trevor. He welcomes it with a big smile. “You 100% sure?”

“Yes.”

She pulls away with a smile. “Okay. Your porch is better anyways.”

Trevor laughs, his mind briefly flashing to an image of this place that had been only his for so long one day becoming theirs, with her throw pillows on the couch and fairy lights on the porch and photos of their friends and loved ones hanging on the walls, some they share, some they don’t.

…..

Trevor fully admits it to himself when Christmas rolls up and Belle refuses to go back to New York.

(“There’s no way I’m leaving you alone for Christmas, Trev,” she insists with an eye roll. “We’ll start our own tradition here. It’ll be great.”)

He doesn’t even try to hide his fondness as he watches Belle teetering at the edge of a chair to hang up lights around their living room. Some random Christmas playlist he had queued up at Belle’s prodding is playing through his speaker, and he doesn’t think “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” deserves the grin plastered on his face.

Belle, though. She might deserve it. Be the origin of it, really.

They make too many cookies that they'll have to gift his teammates and her coworkers just so they don’t end up eating all of them. They have holiday movies on in the background for three days straight, some they pay attention to, some they just leave on for background noise. On Christmas morning, after two cups of coffee on Belle’s end to deal with Trevor’s incessant rambling, they’re sat in the front of their tree. The curtains are drawn, offering minimal lighting into their living room. Yet, the twinkling lights on the tree and around their living room paint Belle in the warmest of lights. The blue fluffy blanket wrapped around her shoulders only adds to her softness and Trevor has to excuse himself after they exchange presents to go in the bathroom.

He splashes cold water in his face and stares at himself. He’s fully in fucking love. Shit.

…..

After that realization, he does the only thing that makes sense to him. Two days later, on the way to practice, he calls Jack. As the phone rings, he thinks that he probably should’ve checked to see if the Devils were playing today, but he also couldn’t be bothered.

Three rings later, Jack’s scratchy voice is projected through Trevor’s car. “Hello?”

“Hey dude.”

“You’re cutting into my pre-game nap. This better be fucking good.”

“I think I’m in love with Belle.”

Silence. A rustle on Jack’s end, before, “Jesus Christ. I knew Amelie should’ve taken the day off today.”

“Jacky,” Trevor practically whines. “Be helpful.”

“Give me a second to think and I will be,” Trevor stops at a light. “Dude. I mean, not completely out of left field. But in love love? That’s big. Considering you only reconnected, what, three months ago?”

“Yeah, I know. Am I being stupid? And I need you to be real with me and tell me if I am.”

“No.”

“I’m not being stupid?”

“No, you’re not being stupid. Z, I knew I wanted to marry Amelie, like, two months after I met her, and we weren’t even dating yet. You and Isabelle have known each other since you were kids.”

“Yeah, but we lost touch for over a decade.”

“Okay and? You spent a good amount of time together when you went back home, right? And she lives with you now, right?”

“She was the only one around at home, and we’ve been living together for maybe a month.”

“Dude, are you trying to convince yourself you are in love with her or that you’re not?”

Trevor shakes his head. “Sorry, sorry. Right.”

He hears Jack let out a sigh. “I know you’ve been burned in the past with relationships and stuff, but this is a good thing, okay? She’s a great person. Try not to freak out about it so much.”

“And do what instead?”

“I don’t know,” Jack says sarcastically. “Maybe tell her?”

“Absolutely not,” Trevor says.

“Why not?”

Trevor’s about to tell him that Belle literally was supposed to be married a year ago but clamps his mouth shut. He’s not sure if Jack knows and that’s not his story to tell. “It’s just not a good idea.”

“Lame.”

“I’m gonna hang up and call literally anyone else.”

“Do it,” Jack challenges the empty threat, before softening. “Do you have any idea if she likes you back?”

“No,” Trevor says. “But I also haven’t been thinking about that because I don’t wanna…scare her off? I know she likes me as a friend, otherwise we wouldn’t be living together. But that’s probably all there is to it.”

“Maybe,” Jack says. “Or maybe you’re making assumptions. I’m not saying you have to do anything now, but you’re not stupid, Trev. Especially with stuff like this. And hey, at least you’re in love with someone as awesome as she is. Ooh, can you imagine you two getting married? It would be full circle!”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Trevor says as Jack chuckles. “Thanks, man. Seriously.”

“Anytime. And Z?” Trevor hums to tell Jack to go on. “Don’t beat yourself up so much. You don’t know until you ask.”

Those last two sentences echo through Trevor’s head for the rest of the day, even when he’s at practice and going through the drills. After so many years in the league, he usually always can leave his thoughts at the entrance of the rink and just focus on hockey. But not today. He can tell Troy wants to ask something, but he refrains. It’s not like a distracted Trevor appears often, and Trevor’s thankful his teammate doesn’t push.

When the front door swings open that night and Belle calls out her greeting, Trevor is coming back from being outside the last few hours, where he sat and listened to the birds and just stared at the grass, lost in thought.

Then Belle comes into view, gray sweater over a cream satin dress, tote bag on her shoulder and a tired but bright smile on her face, and Trevor’s not lost anymore.

In fact, as she slides over to him in her socks across the hardwood floor and hugs him in greeting, immediately talking about what they should make for dinner tonight, Trevor’s never felt more sure of where he is and where he should be.

…..

Trevor’s on a long roadie during Valentine’s Day, but he makes sure that he delivers flowers to the house before Belle has to get to work. He had spent an ungodly amount of time selecting which bouquet he wanted to send, and Jamie, the saint that he is, had only blinked when he saw what Trevor was looking at on his phone on the bus home from the game before Trevor could lock his phone.

Imagine if it was Troy. Or Mason. Or fucking Leo, who’s just as much a menace as he was the first day Trevor met him. Everyone loves him and thinks he’s a darling, but Trevor knows better.

He ended up choosing a bouquet from Fresh Sends because the packaging looks sick with the newspaper and the bright colored box and the reviews are all high. Without hesitation, he had picked the largest bouquet, which he knew if Belle knew how much it cost, would probably kick him out of the house or something. But she doesn’t ever need to find out. On the bus, he had hastily typed out a custom note.

Belle,

Happy Valentine’s Day!! Wish we could be watching shitty rom-coms together but I hope this makes up for it. Thankful to have you in my life again. See you when I get back!

It’s not overly romantic, but he can’t exactly confess his love for her over a note when he’s across the country. If he ever confesses, he’s gonna tell her in person, not hide behind a note like a coward.

He wakes up on February 14 in a hotel room with a bleary smile as he wipes the sleep away from his face.

Belle of The Ball

*picture of the flowers*

Trevor!!! these are so so beautiful thank you

You really didn’t have to

Good luck against the Rangers tonight! And tell your parents (and mine) that i said hello❤️

Trevor nets two goals and an assist. He’s on top of the world.

…..

He’s pleasantly surprised to see that he has an incoming call from Amelie on his way home from the rink a week later.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Hughes.”

Amelie chuckles. “Quinn’s gonna be devastated.”

“Quinner has nothing on you.”

“Flatterer,” she says dryly.

“What’s up?”

“Jack told me. About you and Isabelle.”

Trevor almost snorts. When he first met Amelie, way back when they were in their early twenties, she had been way more hesitant on giving her opinion among Jack’s oldest friends. But with time, her sarcasm and vivacity came out, and while Trevor had been initially surprised and amused, it made sense. Anyone who would choose to spend their life with Jack Hughes has to be able to hold their own purely to rival his constant need for attention.

“Did he now?”

“You’re the worst. I’m not gonna tell you the same stuff he did, which by the way, I’m actually pretty impressed by. From the recap he gave me, he actually said some useful stuff. But I will say something that he forgot to tell you.”

“And what is that?”

“That you’re wonderful, Trevor.”

That’s not at all what he was expecting to come out of the photographer’s mouth. All he can muster out is an “Oh?”

“Yeah. And obviously Jack believes the same thing. You know that. But you’re such a lovely guy, Trevor. I’ve known that since the day we met, don’t get me wrong. But I-I’ve talked to Isabelle a few times since the wedding, and she always brings you up. And it’s always positive.”

“What does this have to do with my feelings for her?”

“Do you feel like maybe you feel like you’re not good enough for her? Is that partially why you’re hesitating on telling her? Take out the fact that she was in a long relationship before and broke off an engagement.”

He blinks. “She told you about the engagement thing?”

“Yeah. She came out to Jersey to grab dinner with Jack and I, like, two weeks before she moved to California and told us then. That’s not the point.”

He doesn’t remember Belle mentioning that. But like Amelie said, not the point. “I-I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Trevor. You’re one of the best people I know.”

“That can’t be true,” he tries to protest.

“But it is,” Amelie presses on. “You’re loyal. You’re funny. You have the ability to make anyone feel comfortable, even if you just met them. Your infectious energy elevates every room you walk into. You care deeply about everyone in your life. You were the first of Jack’s friends to be so openly kind to me and you continued to be kind to me even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“I’m loud. Harsh. Always has to be on the go or I get bored. Life of the party maybe and a fun time usually, but that’s it.”

Amelie scoffs. “Respectfully, shut the fuck up. Okay, you’re all of those things, so what? You think she doesn’t already know? She probably knows better than any of us. I get being hesitant to do anything because she’s maybe on a different page, I get that. But it’s not because you’re not good enough. Get that shit out of your head.”

Trevor has to laugh, both at the abruptness of this call and unbridled honesty from Amelie’s voice. “I’m not gonna lie. Getting chewed out by my best friend’s wife wasn’t on the list of things I expected today.”

“If you think I’m chewing you out now, you’re lucky Clementine doesn’t know about this yet.”

Trevor actually shudders at the possibility of Clementine Sandoval (well, Clementine Hischier as of two years ago but old habits die hard), lecturing him about this. He still remembers Clem’s lectures she would give Quinn, Jack and Luke when they were all in Michigan. They would usually be over the phone, since she was already out in California for school by then, but even at 17, Trevor knew she wasn’t someone to be messed with. Who else in the world, besides Ellen Weinberg-Hughes, can somehow lecture all three Hughes brothers successfully in one breath?

“She doesn’t?”

“Eh, usually she would. But she’s in her last trimester and Nico would kill me if I stressed her out more.”

And well, Trevor thinks that’s fair enough. He quiets again, thinking. “You think we could be a good match? Belle and I?”

“Yes,” Amelie says with no hesitation. “And I’m not going to tell you why, because I’m pretty sure deep down, you already know.”

He kinda hates that she’s right. Damn, is he this easy to read? He hangs up, but not before promising to give her a call more often.

As they’re leaving practice, Jamie nudges him with his shoulder. “How’s Isabelle?”

“She’s good. She has a wedding in Santa Monica this weekend so I haven’t seen her that much this week.”

“She a good roommate?”

Trevor smirks and elbows him lightly. “Better than you ever were.”

Jamie’s jaw drops, indignant. “Hey! I was a great roommate, thank you very much.”

“You were, you were. Nah, she’s great. We did Christmas just the two of us and it was really nice.”

“Just the two of you?”

“Fuck off, Jimmy.”

“I’m just asking! She chose not to fly home and stayed here with you instead. Ever think about what that could mean?”

Trevor has thought about it a lot recently, actually. But Jamie doesn’t need to know that. He lets out an uncommitted noise, but the look on Jamie’s face tells him that he’s not fooling anyone. Least of all, one of his dearest friends.

Trevor needs to tell her soon. Or get over it.

…..

Trevor never thought to really ask Belle if she wanted to go to a game, which is weird, because why wouldn’t he want a friend out in the stands to cheer him on? But he also knows that Belle wouldn’t be afraid to just ask if she wanted to go, and that her ideal time to unwind after work isn’t necessarily to go into a rowdy arena. She’s perfectly content snuggling in on the couch and watching the game on TV.

But when he mentions that Cole and the Canadiens are coming into town to play, she perks up. During the whole wedding weekend, Trevor could tell that she got pretty comfortable with Cole. Which, to Trevor, makes complete sense. Cole has the ability to make friends quickly and genuinely anywhere he goes. He leaves a ticket on the counter before heading to morning skate, as well as a note allowing her permission to raid his closet for any Ducks merch she so desires to wear.

The game is a fun battle that goes into OT, but Leo gets the game winner with an assist from Trevor and the Honda Center goes nuts. Trevor has plans to grab dinner with Cole and Belle, and he’s in good spirits during media before he meets up with Cole and goes outside to where he told Belle to meet them.

The boys see her before she sees them. Belle’s leaning against the wall of the arena on her phone, one of his jerseys tucked into black jeans and a black blazer completing the look. Cole calls out her name and she immediately puts her phone away with a smile, letting Cole hug her tightly with a chuckle. Trevor trails behind, watching the scene in happiness. Trevor tells Belle where he made dinner reservations, and she gets into her own car to follow them.

As Trevor watches Cole and Belle talk at dinner, it’s overwhelming, his love for her. Cole’s pulling out some old-school stories from way back during their program days and Belle’s absolutely loving it, pulling out some of her own stories from her college days and Trevor feels so fucking lucky. There’s a particular thing that Cole says that has her coughing up her water and she’s laughing so hard and Trevor feels so fucking fond.

Tomorrow, he promises himself. He has to tell her tomorrow.

…..

He doesn’t tell her tomorrow. But in his defense, he has to go on a road trip and she’s busy at work.

Somehow, after dinner with Cole, he had gone to sleep earlier than she did but had woken up before her to a short but sweet note on the kitchen counter. In her cursive, he smiles at her words.

Trev,

Thank you for dinner and a fun game <3 Wanted to tell you tonight but by the time I got out of the bathroom you were already in bed (old man). Good luck on your road trip to wherever!!

Love,

Belle

He takes the note and folds it carefully, tucking it into his wallet.

…..

At the end of the day, he ends up just blurting it out.

He comes home from the road trip to the smell of something absolutely delicious floating through the house. He peeks his head around the corner to see Belle flittering around the kitchen, stirring something in a pot. The oven beeps and Trevor decides to make his presence known.

“Smells good in here.”

Belle looks over her shoulder and he realizes she’s wearing one of his Ducks hoodies he must’ve had lying around. She beams. “Hey! Welcome home. I felt like making some good old grilled cheese and tomato soup with some roasted vegetables because I guess we need those. Don’t tell your coaches if this fucks up your diet-”

“I love you.”

And well, shit, because that’s definitely not how he pictured this going. For a split second, he thinks he imagined it. But Belle freezes, her back towards him, and he has no idea what to do.

After what seems like a lifetime, she turns off the stove and turns around. “What?”

Trevor walks forward, “I love you. I’m in love with you. And I know you probably don’t feel the same way and that’s okay! I really don’t want this to change anything between us because I love our friendship. But I-I had to say it because it’s driving me crazy not saying it.”

“Trevor-”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. Y-you’re such an important part of my life and I really hope this didn’t fuck everything up-”

Belle rushes towards him to put her hands on his shoulders, steadying him. He forces himself to take a deep breath and to stop his hands from shaking, staring at his feet. He’s breathing really fast, but Belle’s orange blossom perfume and touch calms him down ever so slightly.

“You good?”

He swallows roughly. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” she says softly. He gets the courage to look at her face. He sees her smile and he can’t help but smile too. She clears her throat. “I-I thought it was clear, but I guess I’m out of practice. I feel the same way, Trevor. I like you a lot. Maybe not…love. Yet. B-but you’ve become my favorite person. And these last few months have been so…lovely. I just-I haven’t said anything because I don’t know if I’m ready yet.”

“That’s okay,” Trevor rushes to assure. Because holy shit, she likes him back? This was farther than he thought he was going to get. He chuckles lightly. “I…shit. Sorry. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact you like me like that.”

“Trevor,” she trails her hands down his arms to grab both of his hands. “Of course I do.”

“Oh,” he says softly.

Belle’s eyes water, and Trevor immediately feels the surge to make her feel better. “But I don’t know if I’m ready, Trev. I don’t know when I will be. And I can’t be the asshole and ask you to wait.”

“Why not?” Trevor challenges.

Belle looks at him incredulously. “Because that’s unfair.”

“Well too bad. Because I’m not gonna listen to you.”

“What?”

“As long as you need. Take your time. I mean it. And when you’re ready, I’ll be here. I promise.”

She bites her lip, “Trevor, you can’t possibly promise something like that.”

“I can, actually. And I will.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it, before laughing. She squeezes her eyes shut as he places his hands on her cheeks to cup her face. “Okay.”

He raises an eyebrow playfully. “You’re not gonna fight me?”

She shakes her head. “You’ve never been the kind of person to back down.”

He laughs and he so wants to kiss her. But he doesn’t, instead just placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “You’ll let me know when you’re ready?”

“If you’re still around,” she jokes.

Trevor grins, his heart growing four times its size. He feels like it might explode out of his chest. “I’ll always be around for you.”

#k writes #hockey fanfiction #hockey fanfic #nhl fic #nhl blurb #nhl fanfiction #anaheim ducks #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x oc #trevor zegras fic #nhl

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wheredafandomat · 10 months

Text

Shrink | P2 - Arms for days

Avenger! Loki x Therapist! reader

18+ | probably bad language, mentions of sex etc - pretty much the same warnings in each part

Previous Next

“So, Loki, how has your week been?” You asked politely after welcoming him inside. As usual, he sat down, poured himself a glass of water and slouched a little in his chair as his gaze wandered around the room before settling onto you.

“Decent” he shrugged “same old routine.”

“Have you—” you questioned, hoping he knew that you were alluding to having sex.

“No.” He exhaled.

“Okay” you nodded “any particular reason?”

“Well for starters” he began looking at the floor, eyes clearly following something before he tossed his water out into the small plant pot next to him and knelt on the floor, placing the glass over a spider “I just haven’t found anyone that—sorry do you have a piece of paper?” He asked, glancing up at you. Taken aback a little, you handed him the paper, watching as he slipped it underneath the glass and lifted the spider before walking towards the window where he released it. “I wonder how that got in here?” He smiled to himself as you recalled your previous conversation with Natasha. Clearing your throat, you rid yourself of the thought as Loki sat back down. “I haven’t found anyone to be intimate with yet.”

“S—so what about online dating?” You queried.

“I wouldn’t know where to start.” He chuckled.

“Or maybe your brother could set you up with someone.” You suggested.

“I just—shh, did you hear that?”

“No, wha—” you started before Loki dived towards you, knocking your chair backwards as he settled above you on the floor, shielding you as something shot through the window. “Loki, what's going on?” You shrieked, glass hitting the floor from the broken window as Loki remained silent, eyes wide.

“I think you’ve just been shot at.” He eventually spoke as silence settled between you. Breathing heavy, you looked up at him with a mortified expression as he began to stand up. “Stay down here, I’m going to check to see if the coast is clear.”

“Loki be careful!” You warned.

Lifting himself up, he looked outside, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Stepping away from the window, he picked up the bullet that was on the floor, inspecting it.

“I’ll have this traced back to the shooter, in the meantime I think it’s safer for you to stay at the compound in case someone is targeting you.” He proposed, kneeling to your level.

“Why would someone want to target me?” You spoke just above a whisper, mostly shocked and a little frightened.

“You’ve counseled many important people over the years including half of SHIELD, if I wanted to take the organisation down, you’re someone I’d definitely torture answers out of.” He explained, an unfamiliar glint in his eye that strangely stirred something in you. “There’s nowhere safer for you than at the compound and I’ll make it my mission to ensure your protection Doctor y/l/n” he smiled “and who knows, maybe I’m mistaken.”

After completing the necessary paperwork granting you leave from work pending further investigation, you and Loki made your ways to the compound. Luckily for you, it wasn’t your first time there so you weren’t nervous however Loki practically shielding you with every step you took did make you nervous and not in a fearful way. Unfortunately for you, Natasha was on a mission so you weren’t able to just bunk with her.

“There’s a guest bedroom at the end of my hall, I’ll walk you to it.” Loki spoke, leading you to the elevator.

He pointed out his room as you passed it before you reached the guest bedroom. He showed you inside before leaving you alone to process what had actually just transpired the past few hours.

After a while, you decided to make your way to Natasha’s room which was still where you remembered it and grabbed a couple of things to wear. On your way back to your own room, you knocked on Loki's door. He quickly answered, leaning against it as he looked at you.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” You simpered.

“For what?”

“Saving my life.”

“Y/n” Loki began, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as he looked into your eyes “I couldn’t bear the thought of anything bad happening you to, I’m glad I was there, there’s no need to thank me.” He insisted, dropping his hand as your gazes remained fixed on one another’s.

“Well I-I better go.” You broke the silence, stuttering as you tried to look away.

“Of course, goodnight.” Loki bid kindly leaving you wondering where the hostile Loki everyone kept speaking about was.

“Night.”

“What the fuck was that?” You huffed to yourself, closing the door behind you once you reached the bedroom again.

The following day, Loki excitedly approached Thor in the common room after returning from his walk.

“Thor, I believe I have found the one.” Loki grinned.

“The one for what?” Thor questioned.

“To do the sex with.” He almost exploded with excitement.

“Right, sex, relations, the deed.” Thor listed uncomfortably.

“Would you like to meet her?” Loki offered. Before Thor could answer, Loki called her inside. “Ethel” to which he received no reply. “Oh Ethelll” he sang this time to no avail “ETHEL!” He hollered before an elderly lady trudged in. Thor’s smile fell as he looked between the two.

“Um-Loki, can I have a word?” Thor asked.

“Sure.”

“In private?”

“She can’t really hear anyways, you can speak freely here.” Loki dismissed.

“Loki—she”

“Is a stunner right.” Loki interrupted.

“Where did you meet her?”

“She had fallen down outside and as I helped her up, she said I had big strong arms and you know I don’t really get told that often, usually it’s you who—”

“Get on with it.”

“Well one thing led to another and now she is my mate.” Loki chirped as Bucky entered the room, looking for something.

“You haven’t.” Thor almost gasped.

“Not yet.”

“Look Loki, why don’t I set you up with one of Jane’s friends?” Thor offered. Turning to look at Ethel, Loki’s smile fell when he watched her touching Bucky’s arms.

“You have such big strong arms.” She complimented causing Bucky to smile as Loki narrowed his gaze, turning back to Thor.

“Alright.”

Ethel was a player 🥺🤣

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#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#oc fiction #loki fanfiction #tom hiddelston loki #loki x you #loki x y/n #avenger loki #loki au #loki imagine

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wildemaven · 10 months

Text

Sweet Creature: Chapter Five

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 5129

Warnings: 18+ blog; mentions of food, language, sexual innuendos, two dumb dumbs who lack communication skills, working on sobriety, failed relationships, loneliness, references to hookups and bad dates, I think that’s it but like always please let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Reader gets her nickname!!!!! This was a fun one to write! I got stuck in parts of it, but over all I’m so happy with it. I don’t want to give too much away by setting anything up. Big thank you to my dear @gnpwdrnwhiskey for her constant support and beta reading through this whole thing! She’s a gem! Everyone who’s been reading, reblogging, commenting, liking, lurking— THANK YOU! 💕

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

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“So, I take it things are good then? You both seem to be pretty, chummy with each other lately.”

“Yeah, since our talk, things have been—good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah, Good.”

The waitress stops by your table, refilling each of your water glasses, the clinking of the ice filling the silent break in your conversation.

“Thank you.” Diem’s sickly sweet voice offers gratitude to the waitress before the young girl is carrying on about her work and then Diem redirects her gaze to you, her overly generous smile morphing into a questioning smirk, accompanied by a cocked eyebrow.

“What’s that look for?”

“Good?”

“Uh yeah, that’s what I said.”

“So, now that you and Dieter are good, as you say, we’re just going to pretend what you said didn’t happen?”

“Would mind clueing me in on the conversation that’s happening right now, ‘cause I’m so fucking lost.”

“That night at my house, what you had said about Dieter.”

“Ugh, Diem! We’ve already hashed this shit out. Plus, Dieter and I’ve been on good terms for a couple weeks now, let’s just not discuss what I said that evening.”

“No, I’m not talking about that— the other thing you said that we have not discussed at all since you said it because the two of you were, and frankly might still be, idiots.”

“Oh my god, Diem! When I told you I was into edging, I didn’t mean like this— for fuck sakes woman, spit it out!” Grabbing for your glass of water, you take a sip to cool off your annoyance that is starting to simmer.

“The part where you said my brother was attractive—“

Diem doesn’t even get a chance to finish the rest of what she is saying because you nearly choke on your drink, water spraying from your mouth back into your glass at the remembrance of what you had said.

“Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” Wiping the water droplets with your napkin.

You had honestly forgotten about it. Forgotten about what you said, not about the thought— honestly, it still rang true.

The more time you spend with him, even if only for brief periods of time as you both got to know each other, you undoubtedly found Dieter Bravo attractive— he was caring, sweet, funny, and his almost chaotic personality only added to your growing attraction for him.

“So?”

“I don’t even know how to answer that.”

“So you do then— find my brother attractive.”

“Sure, whatever.” You hope your nonchalant response is enough to outwit the surge of questions she’s hurling at you.

“You know, for someone who works with kids regularly, you’d think at some point you’d learn how to lie better than them.”

“Fine! Yes, I think he’s attractive. There I said it, are you happy now?”

The check is dropped between the both of you, your hands quickly grabbing for it to avoid the back and forth on whose turn it is to pay this time, you place your card in the designated slot and place the receipt book on the edge of the table.

“You know this means I have to set you two up, like it’s my duty as a best friend to you.”

“You do it, and your best friend title gets revoked! Do not say a word to him, I am begging you! This isn’t middle school, I don’t need you playing matchmaker. Plus, we’ve just barely started talking, so just leave us alone.”

“You’re no fun. I’m sure he’d be into you though, I can always ask—“

“You are insufferable.” You chuckled, signing your scrawled signature on the receipt. “Seriously though, please don’t. I’m good with just being his friend and getting along like we are— we don’t need to throw feelings into the mix.”

She nods in agreement, but the scheming look she is giving makes you think she’s plotting something.

“Oh, I just remembered— I won't be able to bring Wren, something came up so Dieter is going to be bringing her to art class this week.”

“What something?”

“Something— when I figure out what it is, I’ll let you know.”

“I hate you!” Tossing your crumpled napkin at her, Diem’s laughter rising as you roll your eyes, grabbing for your to-box and purse.

“I love you too!”

The chorus of a slow ballad hangs in the air of the empty gallery room, the euphonious melody sandwiched between poetic precision, eliciting a longing for a tangible moment you weren’t sure you would ever experience.

Relationships never really seemed to work in your favor, not for a lack of trying on your part, you just seemed to always find the ones who never really wanted to advance into the seriousness that comes as relationships progress.

You still kept your mind open to the possibility of finding someone who had the similar interests and desires as you, never really closing the door on relationships as a whole. Dating gave? you great conversations with potential partners, and hookups satisfied that carnal itch your vibrator couldn’t touch.

You threw yourself into your work at school and your art to keep your mind off the fact that it had been over a year since you were last in a relationship, or had sex for that matter.

Settling into a new town, it was intimidating to put yourself out there, every one of your dates had been disastrous setups that ended before the dinner checks ever came.

For now, you were relying on fate to decide whether you were destined for a lifetime of solitude or not.

You sailed through setting up for an evening of painting. Brushes laid out next to a plastic tray filled with tiny squares, dried chalky pigments begging for thirst and attention. Dense papers, laying neatly on top of two family style tables, waiting for imaginations to spill over onto its textured surface.

Every class was a mixture of locals who were looking to further their own skills, tourists trying to immerse themselves into the happenings of the town, and a few who were convinced to be there against their will not realizing they would be leaving with a new hobby.

The attendees slowly started to meander in. A few browsing the art on display as they enter the front of the gallery, a tell-tale sign they are the tourists of the group this evening, while the others don’t hesitate to find a seat pulling out their own personal art supplies and setting up their space.

“We’re here! We’re here!” Wren zooming in like a tornado , little voice echoing off the cement floor of the building as she announces her arrival.

“Hi!” Dieter trails in behind her, a shy wave and gleaming smile directed at you.

The nervousness you had felt when Diem said he would be taking her spot tonight, now replaced with something more substantial, an awakened warmth penetrating through every wall you had built up over the years.

Your breath catches as he makes his way closer to where you’re standing, his smile shifting into a toothy grin, suddenly making your knees increasingly weak with every step he takes— what is he doing to you?

“Hey!” You manage to croak out.

“So wild to see it like this.” He looks around the open room, as if to recall all the memories that had been etched onto every wall over the years. “It was a general store growing up. My buds and I would scrounge up enough change in the summer for ice cream cones and a coke. Then we sat out front on the curb, planning what kinda trouble we wanted to get into.”

You can see it too. 12 year old Dieter, all gangly limbs with his wavy dark locks a tousled mess. A buoyant young soul, not knowing what it’s like to be broken and blue. You know though that 12 year old Dieter would be proud to see how hard he’s worked to be where he’s at right now.

You’re looking forward to seeing this side of him tonight, Dieter the artist, to observe the way he’s able to construct a visual representation of what ambles about in his mind.

“Looks like you got a good turn out tonight, this should be fun.” He says as he looks around at the now filled seats.

“Y-Yeah. Don’t be fooled though— Betty and Marilyn,” Casually pointing to the two older ladies, all set up and straight faced waiting for your instruction. “They take these classes way more seriously than blackout bingo. No one’s allowed to talk or ask questions, otherwise you’re on the receiving end of their threatening glares.”

“Huh— Well, tonight’s gonna be interesting then.”

“Uncle Dude! I saved you a seat by me!” Wren shouts at Dieter, her hand frantically smacking the table, indicating the vacant seat next to her.

“I guess that’s my cue. I’d say good luck, but I don’t think you need it.” He seals it with a wink as he gives your arm a squeeze, the gesture has become a sort of regular thing for him.

“Fuck!” It’s barely a whisper as you turn your back to everyone, mentally putting yourself in check.

This budding friendship between you and Dieter was refreshing, and the last thing you would have expected. The both of you had become so intertwined, mostly through the connection of Diem and Wren, but you both were beginning to thrive while in each other’s orbit.

You just needed to get a grip on these spontaneous feelings, before it was too late.

“Welcome friends! I see we have some familiar faces, as well as new ones tonight. For those who are new, tonight is a basics in watercolor. I’ll show you some techniques for the first half of the class, then in the second half you’ll be able to paint freely using the techniques. If there are any questions at any point in time, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Your eyes quickly scan over everyone’s faces, taking in the varying degrees of excitement, but lingering a bit when they land on Dieter. His head cocked to the side, attention undivided, taking in every word that fell from your lips.

“We’re going to prep our paper first.” You grab a larger brush, dipping it into a cup of water. A few swift swirls around before lifting and allowing the excess water to flow back into the cup, then placing the brush directly onto the stark white paper. “This is a soaking method, not required, but it helps prevent buckling of the paper— some will soak longer, but this will do for tonight.”

As instructed, everyone sets out to prep their papers, drips of water litter the table’s surface as brushes move about.

“Umm, ma’am? I have a question.” Dieter’s hand raised, stone face as he awaits to be called on. Betty and Marilyn’s brushes halt for a moment, side eyeing Dieter, before continuing the sweeping motions.

“Uh, yes. I’ll try to have an answer for you.” You can’t fully read his expression, but you sense a playfulness in his voice.

He takes a quick glance over to the two old women, then back to you. His movements calculated, forearms rest on the table as he leans forward, his question primed and ready.

“In your opinion, do you find allowing more time to prepare and properly produce a precise wetness, helps with the stamina of the— paper?” Drawing his lower lip between his teeth, his focus never wavering from where you stand.

The question so flagrantly sexual in its delivery, you assume a fluke with the way he asks it so flippantly. But you don’t miss the way his words unlock a needy appetite for more. Your body’s tragic lack of foreplay halted, now buzzing with enthusiasm at such an erotic statement. You do your best to control your heady thoughts and not allow his words to affect you in the slightest.

“Well, I guess that would be dependent on if it’s worth being quick and simple, or whether the job requires to be drawn out and deliberate to get the desired results.”

Dieter is surprised at how quickly you counter your response— touché. He has to avert his eyes, looking down instead at his hands as they fidget with the dry paint brush, fighting back the urge to laugh.

“Now, we want to load up our wet brushes with pigment and you can play around with brush strokes. Smaller strokes, known as stippling, the paint will stay in place and pool up. Longer strokes will drag your paint around the surface of the paper, leaving a wash of color from dark to light. The results will also vary depending on the pressure you use, so feel free to mess around with them.”

You give a few examples of the different ways pressure can affect the flow of paint and the proper ways to angle the brush against the paper, everyone eagerly waits to apply the same techniques to their own work.

Swirling your brush in the water to clean off the remaining color, the pigment suspended within the clear liquid. Blotting the brush on a towel, you take a few seconds to breathe, your face still warm after Dieter’s earlier comment.

“Ma’am! I have another question, probably a silly one.”

You bring your hand to your mouth to stifle the choking laugh that tries to escape your throat. You hold the brush in both hands, rolling between your fingers as you turn around to see Dieter’s hand raised yet again.

“I’m sure you know this, but there’s no silly questions. Please, let’s hear it.”

Your encouragement provokes annoyed huffs from Betty and Marilyn.

“Yeah— so these, uh, strokes. Are we talking like long, steady strokes or— hurried and—“

*Snap*

The brush you were holding, now in two pieces.

“Okay! I think that’s plenty of time spent on the basics. Go ahead and get started working on your own thing, I’ll be available if needed.”

Tossing the now broken brush in the nearest trash bin and wiping your sweaty hands on your jeans, you make your way back to the tables.

You make a point to stop and admire what each person is working on, commenting on their progress and giving assistance when needed.

There’s a weird wave of emotions that overcome you, thinking about how this will all come to end with the closing of the gallery. Sure, there were other galleries in town, but none of them offered classes or had the space to do so. But, you were grateful to have been able to share this space with others who were just as excited about art as you were.

Another reminder that you also don’t have a single thing ready for the final gallery exhibition, your own showing— mentally noting to start brainstorming ideas.

Dieter and Wren were still working away as you made it to their end of the table, the best for last in your opinion.

“What are you painting Wren?” Trying to decipher the colorful blobs sporadically placed, her little hands diligently picking up more paint than needed.

“It’s flowers, see.” She picks up the sopping wet paper to showcase her work, the upright angle causes the paint to run downward resulting in endless drippy hues puddling onto the table. “They’re poppies!”

“Oh! I see it now. Poppies are my favorite flowers too.”

“I know.” Wren, clearly more observant than any other 6 year old you know.

“Well, it’s beautiful. Your mom is going to love it!”

Shifting your attention over to Dieter, your breath hitches at what he’s been able to execute in a short amount of time, but your heart nearly stops when you really focus on what he had painted.

“Dieter—“

His brush stills, hovering over the inky black and white portrait.

“You like it?”

“Dieter, is that— me?”

“Umm, yeah. Sorry, I was just watching you up there and you were talking about everything— I could see this light in you, I don’t know, just felt really inspired by it.”

You’re speechless at his admission.

“I— I don’t even know what to say. It’s incredible.”

“Thanks. I’ve never tried watercolor before, only ever used oil and acrylic paints. This was fun though.”

He feels slightly embarrassed, hoping he didn’t make things uncomfortable between the two of you.

“Well, I think it’s beautiful. And would have never guessed this was your first time using this medium.”

You place a hand on his shoulder, a soft squeeze letting him know you’re touched by what he did.

Once the classes have commenced, supplies cleaned and put away for the next time, you wait by the door to thank everyone and bid them goodbye.

Dieter and Wren hung back a bit until everyone had left before making their way over to where you’re standing at the front of the building.

“You two outta here?”

“Yeah, this one’s getting hungry, best get some food in her before she gets angry. Sorry about Betty and Marilyn earlier, they seemed to leave in a hurry too.”

“Don’t worry about them, they’ll be back next week.” You wave off his apology. “Thanks for coming tonight, I know it’s not anything special—“

“No, it was great. You could see how much everyone enjoyed it. Makes me miss when I used to paint regularly.”

“I have some extra things at home. I could throw together a little kit for you if you’d like.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course! What’s your number? I’m just realizing I don’t have it.”

He recites his number for you, you promptly enter it into your contacts and save.

“Uncle Dude?”

“What? What else am I supposed to call you? Friend?”

“Uh, Dieter…”

“Eh! Kind of boring.”

“Yeah, that’s boring Uncle Dude!” Clearly her ears work better than any other 6 year old too.

“Okay, give me your number then, it’s only fair.”

Keeping the screen hidden as he types it into his contact list.

“So, am I worthy enough of a fun name or not??” You playfully push at his shoulder.

Turning the phone around so you can see the screen, you see your number placed in the appropriate location and where your name would be, a nickname instead.

“Poppy?”

“Yeah, like your favorite flower.”

Diem’s sitting at the counter, enjoying warmed leftovers, when Dieter and Wren walk through the front door.

“We’re home! Birdie’s starving, insists she could eat the? a? whole restaurant.”

Wren runs into the kitchen and climbs onto the counter height chair, dramatically lowering her upper body onto the counter.

“Mama! I’m so hungry!”

“Here baby, eat this.” Diem slides her plate of pasta to her, her hand smoothing over her messy head of caramel colored hair. “Did you have fun at least?”

Dieter grabs a plate for himself, listening to Diem and Wren chat about the class, noticing Wren already peeking up after a few bites of food.

“Lots of fun! We painted this time. I’m going to be the flower girl at Uncle Dude and Poppy’s wedding!”

“Uncle Dude and Poppy’s wedding? Who’s Poppy?!”

“You know Poppy, Mama. She’s your best friend!”

Confused by what Wren is saying, Diem blinks in confusion in Dieter’s direction, he shrugs not having a single clue as to what Wren is talking about.

“And why do you think Poppy and your Uncle are getting married?”

“Because! They did that thing that people do in the movies!”

Dieter eyes widen as he nearly chokes on the noodle he’s eating, his fist covering his mouth as he coughs loudly to hopefully change the subject away from you and him.

“And what— t-thing would that be?”

“They talk and look at each other a lot. You know, the way they do in the movies when they’re in love— duh!”

“Hmm, well— that’s not how that works baby. Your Uncle and Poppy are just friends.” Trying to not break Wren's heart over the fact that she won’t be anyone’s flower girl at the moment.

“But after you're boyfriend and girlfriend, you get married.”

“Technically true. But Wren, baby, Uncle Dude and Poppy aren’t boyfriend and girlfriend either— they’re just friends, that’s it.”

Wren tilts her head ever so slightly, her brows furrowed in contemplation.

“But they have each other's phone numbers, like boyfriend and girlfriend’s do.”

This is not what Dieter had expected when they arrived home, he had plans to relax and catch up on a show he had started recently. Instead, he’s listening to his niece conjure up wild stories about a nonexistent impending marriage and being romantically linked to you— yet the more he listens, he realizes you’re someone he could see himself with.

At first he only thought of it as a normal attraction towards you. From that first day at school, he was drawn to your beautiful smile, how you instantly lit up when your students waved their ‘good mornings’ as they entered your class.

And if Dieter is truly being honest with himself, that night in the kitchen didn’t stall how thoroughly mesmerized he was by you. The more he thought about it, he realized you were the only one, aside from his sister, who called him out on his bullshit, something no one had done for a long time.

After talking with his Sponsor and really taking the time to sit in his feelings and reflect on the situation. And the only conclusion he could come to, and the only one that made sense, was he needed to figure out how to make it up to you.

He was thankful that you were receptive to the idea of still being around him, the amicable morning ‘Hello’s’ at school, fleeting glances from across the room during movie nights, tiny moments cementing these feelings for you.

When you shared your past and reasoning for being so put off by him, he knew that was a turning point in the mending process between the both of you. Coming from two very different backgrounds, yet your upbringing’s weren’t all that different from each other.

Tonight, watching you so absorbed in your element of teaching something you love, Dieter knew he needed you in his life anyway he could have you.

“Okay, but friends give each other numbers too. Doesn’t mean they’re in a relationship, just friends.”

“Then why did Uncle Dude paint a picture of her in class tonight?”

“Okay, I think it’s bedtime for you little miss. Go brush your teeth and I’ll be in for story time in a minute.” Wren’s shoulders dropped at that, but Diem took Dieter’s silence for mortification and decided it was best to put an end to it.

“Night Uncle Dude!” Wren shouted as she ran off to prepare for bedtime without any hesitation or arguments.

“Night Birdie!”

A lull hung over the room. Dieter now leaning back against the counter edge, head down and arms folded over his chest, nervously chewing at his bottom lip. Diem still seated in her chair, glancing up at the ceiling, letting all of what Wren had shared settle for a moment.

“How long?”

“How long, what?” His gaze shifting up to Diem, a line appearing between his brows as he waits for an explanation.

“How long have you had feelings for her?”

“I don’t know what—“

“Dieter! I’m not dumb, and definitely not blind. It didn’t take a 6 year old stating the obvious to see how much you like her.”

A grin forms as he shakes his head and laughs, of course his sister would pick up on something like this.

“I-I don’t know. I guess awhile at this point. Don’t know exactly when to pinpoint the time.”

“You should tell her.”

“Well, that’s not happening. Why? So, I can look like some fuckin’ idiot who’s been secretly falling for his sister’s best friend— yeah, I’ll pass.”

“Wait— Dieter, are you in love with her?”

“I, umm. Fuck! I don’t know— I think I—“

*BUZZ*

An incoming text message saves him from revealing exactly how he feels about you.

Dieter pulls his phone from his pocket to see your name along with a message, up on the screen. The way his stomach flips, smiling from ear to ear, completely affected by a simple text message from you.

Poppy 💐 - I hope this isn’t too late. I found those paints I mentioned earlier. Bringing them over, I’ll leave them on the porch.

Uncle Dude - Not too late, just finishing dinner. Text me when you get here.

“That’s her, isn’t it?” Diem’s smile mirroring his.

“Mind your business.”

*BUZZ*

Poppy 💐 - Here!

“Gotta go, not a word out of you about any of this! Got it?”

“Okay, okay!” Diem’s hands thrown up in comical fashion heading for Wren’s room, then tossing one last punch before rounding the corner. “I’ll start looking for my Maid of Honor dress tonight!”

Pushing off the counter in pursuit of the front porch, his eyes rolling at Diem’s lighthearted comment, Dieter finds you waiting for him— armed with a box full of tiny tubes of paint in every shade imaginable, paint brushes in an array of sizes and shapes, all curated by you for him.

“Hey! Sorry again— I was just, excited to get this all together for you.” You say as you lift the box towards him.

“It’s fine, Diem was just getting Wren into bed when you text. You didn’t have to do this, you know.” Grabbing the box from your extended arms, scanning over the contents, noting that you took the time to intentionally choose every item.

“I wanted to. If there’s something you need that’s not in there, just let me know and I can check my supplies.”

“No, this is perfect. Thank you.”

He takes a good look at you as you stand before him, deciding there isn’t any lighting that doesn’t look good on you, the moonlight being his favorite so far— even in the twilight, you’re the most stunning thing ever.

“I have an extra easel too. I just have to pull it out of the attic, but you’re welcome to use it.” Your fingers pick at the cuffs of your sweater, feeling flustered and warm as you try to remain calm, but the way Dieter is looking at you makes it hard.

“I can come by whenever to grab it.”

*BUZZ*

Another notification comes through Dieter’s phone, placing the box down on the ground, he fishes his phone back out of his pocket.

It’s an email, one he’s shocked to be receiving, his reaction baffled as he reads through it.

“Is everything okay?” You can’t get a good read on his hushed state.

“Umm, yeah— Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s from my agent. He said a director sent him a script, asking for me specifically for an upcoming project. Said he’s going to be sending over the scene lines for me to read over.”

“Oh my gosh! Dieter, that’s amazing!!”

Your body launches at his, arms thrown around his neck, pulling his solid body against you.

Instinctively, his own body begins to relax into yours, his hands slowly moving around and up your spine, taking a mental note of how perfect you feel against him.

“Y-yeah, I guess it is.” He murmurs, but his response sounds less than thrilled.

“Are you okay?” You pull back, still wrapped in each other's arms, so close, studying his features in a way you hadn’t done before.

He thinks he is. Dieter had planned to be here, in his hometown, for a few months. Take the time to enjoy his time here with his family and lean fully into his sobriety. He thought it would be months, maybe a year, before he would hear from his agent about any potential parts, let alone be a top pick for a role and be sent a script.

This was all supposed to be temporary, short lived and then move on with his life.

That was until he met you.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

It’s the drag of his upper lip down the column of your neck, your head angled back to allow the slow pleasing movement. Brief pauses allow his tongue to delicately dance about, taste the warmth of your dewy skin.

“Dieter—“ His name soft as it falls from your lips.

His large hand settles at the base of your neck, pulling you head back upright, thumb dragging across the apple of your cheek.

Your body is buzzing, an ardent energy building through Dieter’s stimulating and capable advances.

Dieter’s pillowy lips crash into yours, his tongue sweeping your bottom lip, begging for more of you— you oblige, licking into his mouth with earnestness.

A tingle runs down your spine, gradually turning into a throbbing sensation that settles at your core. Needy and breathless, grabbing off anything you can reach for.

Your hands clutching loose cottony fabric, your grip never faltering as you try to ground yourself in this mind-blowing moment.

“Dieter, please!” A throaty whine carries through the air, a plea for anything to help careen you towards a blissful peak.

“Dieter—“

Silence.

Nothingness.

No movement.

Fleshy desires abandoned.

*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*

The jolting sound of your alarm blares from your nightstand, you shoot up in a panic.

Your room, your bed, alone.

Your body depleted, pulse racing and chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, you fall back into the wall of pillows.

The third night in a row this dream, nightmare, has plagued you.

One minute he’s there, with you, surrounding you in an all-encompassing manner.

Then he’s gone.

Darkness.

Alone.

That night he got the email about the potential job, you were so happy for him, truly. Instinctively, you wanted to praise him, tell him how proud you were of him. There was a moment, a stillness, between the two of you. A spark, a flicker of something— gone when Diem’s voice called out for his help.

The truth was, Dieter is going to get this job, and then he’ll be gone. Back to his movie star world. Enveloped in the same world that created the demons that he’s fought so hard to keep at bay.

And you’ll be here. Alone. Like always.

Throwing the covers off your sticky body, you pluck yourself from the comfort of your bed. Mindlessly, you find your way over to the chair in the corner of your room, your hands grabbing for the brown fuzzy coat that’s been draped over it for the past few weeks.

You pull it on, nuzzling your face into the fluffy fabric, his musky scent still vibrant and sharp as it hits your nose.

The floor is cool against your bare feet as you pad your way down to your sunroom that doubles as your art studio.

Finally having inspiration for your exhibition.

#sweet creature series #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #Pedro pascal #wildemaven writes

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a-kaash-me-outside · 11 months

Text

a bit dirty - ch4

in which you hook up with osamu in a club bathroom and that's just the beginning. prev | ch4 | next [masterlist]

// not the worst idea ~ ᴏsᴀᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 9245 ᴡᴏʀᴅs (ooo, long chapter yw)

a look into this chapter: 18+ minors dni nsfw, more bathroom fucking, casual osamu, meeting friends!~ ah! names names names pet names a million pet names, slight slowburn? like they fuck but-, this is the angst chapter, it's very small angst tho, fixes itself in the same chapter ily, developing feelings fr, afab she/her pronouns

join my taglist here!! ~~ ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

the chime of the entrance bell rings as osamu pushes open the front door, two brown bags of groceries in each arm as he greets you with, “can’t believe you’re here before me.”

“morning to you too,” you tease, rushing around the bar to meet him and take a bag or two from him.

“thanks,” he says as your fingers brush up against his forearm and your heart thumps a little too loud given that you literally just took groceries from him, but you’d argue that it’s not just the groceries, it’s the tone of his voice and his grateful look and the way that you swear his arm moves with your touch just to feel it a little longer.

“course,” you reply, walking back into the kitchen, osamu right behind you, and setting the bags down on the stainless steel countertop. you start pulling things out of the bag, vegetables and sauces and kitchen staples, and he starts putting them away in their respective pantry.

“thanks for closing for me last night,” he says as he walks back over to the central table where you’re placing all of the ingredients.

“no worries,” you say, shaking your head, “that’s why you taught me,” you reason.

“that’s true,” he replies.

you empty the last of the bags, folding them neatly and placing them in the cupboard. “how was your brother’s anyway?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“really fun,” osamu nods, mulling over something in his head as he continues, “it was nice to just chill on a saturday night for once.”

“i bet,” you smile, “bet you’re glad that I offered to learn to close, huh?”

“definitely glad that i trust someone else enough to close for me, yea,” he says, slightly altering the phrase for the better.

you’ve only been closing for a handful of months now, were taught a couple of weeks after you returned from the catering event, a couple of weeks after you had sex with osamu for the third time, but on the fucking clock. meaning, it has been a handful of months and some odd weeks since you’ve mentioned anything about yours and osamu’s relationship and what the fuck the two of you are doing or not doing.

you’d think that not mentioning a boundary might be better, easier to navigate if no one has explicitly told the other that it shouldn’t be happening, but the truth is that it’s actually much more difficult. neither of you are sure where the other stands, what their feelings are on the matter, and that fact has led to a standstill.

not for your job, of course. your job has never been better. you’re still learning every day, you and osamu are still working really well together on the shifts where you’re a team of two, you’re happily taking on more responsibilities and osamu is happily trusting you with them, you trust each other.

but the scope of your relationship, since you knew who he was, of the trust and the easy conversations, has only ever been within the boundaries of work, until he mentions, “you should come next time.”

“what? to your brother’s party?” you ask, and you’re sure you sound as in disbelief as you feel.

“it’s not really like a party,” he says, “there aren’t enough people there for it to be like a party. it’s more like just a small hang out.”

how is that better comes out more like, “then who’ll close for you?”

“we’ll just throw everything in a paper bag and deal with it the morning after,” he explains, because he’s thought about asking you and the intricacies of you saying yes before the words left his mouth, “‘ve done it plenty of times before.” you don’t answer right away, mulling over the ramifications of accompanying him to an event like this.

“if you don’t want to,” he says, and you recognize that hesitancy, the embarrassment, like he’s made a mistake by putting himself out there, by trying to progress your relationship and navigate this really weird time where the two of you don’t know what the other wants.

“no!” you say, abruptly, maybe a bit too loud, “i do! i absolutely do.”

“are ya sure? i know sumu’s a lot, but he won’t be the only one there, sakusa’ll be there and our friend, suna. they’re way more chill. not sure we could all take it if we had someone else in our group like sumu,” osamu explains and excuses all at the same time, slightly rambling, but you’re looking at him like he’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

there’s no mention of aran or any other coworker you know and it’s just nailing in how much of a non-work event this is, no social safety net to catch you or to lean back on. osamu will be the only one you really know there. he looks at you, patient for an answer.

you’ve already made up your mind, know exactly the response you’re going to give, but he just makes it even easier as he says, “i won’t leave your side, swear.”

you laugh, head falling from your spine, goofy smile, you’re sure, on your face as you nod, “then i’d be stupid not to, huh?”

/\ /\ /\

true to his word, the next time that atsumu has a small hang out, osamu invites you. he plans it all out too, schedules the two of you to work together that night, takes responsibility of driving you there and getting you home safely, double checks that you actually want to go, gives you plenty of time and a lot of grace to back out, but you don’t.

the night of the small hang out, osamu is ready to leave onigiri miya promptly at 9pm. the checks are punched, the money is counted, and the receipts are safely stuffed in a bag for you to sort out tomorrow when you open. you change into more casual, less work uniform clothes in the bathroom, grab the bag of onigiris that osamu has packed for sakusa and suna, and then you head out.

“so which one of these friends is the one that was with you and atsumu at the club that night?” you ask as you wait for him to lock the front door. translation: which of these guys knows that we had sex in a dirty club bathroom?

“omi was there with sumu and i that night, but we’re all really close,” osamu answers, walking down the street towards his parked car. translation: they both know that we had sex in a dirty club bathroom.

“how do you know them anyway?” you ask before offering a small thank you to osamu opening the passenger side door for you.

“omi started as sumu’s friend, really, but then the two became inseparable, and sumu and i are practically inseparable, so, y’know,” osamu answers, “and then suna and i have been friends since high school. honestly, been the four of us for a really long time.”

“well, i’m excited to meet them,” you say very truthfully, “especially if you say that they’re more chill than atsumu,” you add, even more truthfully.

osamu laughs, “definitely,” he says, “they’ll love ya.”

the warmth rises to your cheeks, sweat to your palms, and you shift in your seat, turn your body slightly to face him just a touch more, to see the comfort in his features and the softness in his eyes. your heart a subtle drum, echoing in your ribcage, and as your fingers crawl against the center console, creep towards his resting forearm, the rumble roars reverberant.

the tips of your fingers brush against his wrist and it’s like he’s expecting it, arm overturning, thumb brushing against your palm before threading his fingers with yours like that’s where they’re meant to be. it’s without explanation and void of any reluctance or questioning, reciprocated and assured.

and you really wish you could make better sense of this.

/\ /\ /\

you assume that atsumu will answer the door given that it’s his place, but your assumption is wrong. when osamu knocks on the door, it takes only a few seconds for someone, you deduce suna, to answer it. he throws open the door, greets osamu with a wave and then you with nod. “yo,” he says, and then holds the door open for the two of you to step inside.

“suna,” osamu says, gesturing towards you, “this is yn.” it’s almost weird for your name to come out of his mouth. he doesn’t say it very often. sure, he does say it, but he doesn’t use it to get your attention and when he does refer to you, it’s not usually in front of you, so you don’t normally hear it.

“nice to meetcha,” suna says, awkward smile and even more awkward body language as he steps further into atsumu’s apartment. “you work at the restaurant?” he asks, and you know that he knows the answer to that question, but he’s just trying to make polite conversation, and you do appreciate it. you nod. “cool cool,” he nods back.

you already feel like you’re failing at socializing, that osamu is regretting inviting you in the first place, but then he starts talking, conversation directed towards you. “yea, the other day at work, this weird ass guy came in and was practically hitting on you while he was ordering,” he says, practically starting a story, and it works.

“oh my gosh, yea,” you say, nodding as you follow suna into the living room, “he was ordering different dishes, but changing words in the titles to, like, make them pick up lines?”

suna laughs, furrowing his eyebrows, “how does that even work?”

“well, that’s what i was thinking, right,” you say, “but he was really creative, i don’t even remember what he was saying, all i remember was that my first thought wasn’t even oh this is weird, it was how long has he been thinking of this or is he a genius?”

“well, what happened?” suna asks.

“i basically called samu over pretending to be confused about what he was ordering because i really wanted him to hear what-,” you say and as you’re explaining, suna walks into the kitchen.

“keep going, i’m listening,” he calls out.

“oh, yeah, so, samu came over and the guy just starts talking completely normal again and i even tried to call him out on it, like, repeated one of what he said before back to him and-,” you say as suna returns, three beers impressively held in one hand, one in another, reaching out and offering it to you. “thanks, -and he just looked at me like i was the weird one.”

suna passes one of the remaining beers to osamu and sets another next to sakusa who is sitting on the couch, scrolling on his phone. “that’s insane,” he says, shaking his head, “so weird.”

“really weird,” you agree.

“i always feel like there’s weird shit happenin’ over there at oni-,” suna says, but is cut off.

“hey! the star employee,” atsumu calls out as he enters into the living room and the loudness of his voice and the forwardness of his statement is unintentionally making you feel small very quickly.

osamu rests his hand on your lower back, a silent signifier of the promise he made to you in the restaurant when he asked you to come, that he won’t leave your side.

“hey atsumu,” you say, only attention given to his comment a small laugh at the end of his name, “thanks for having me.”

“i told samu that he should invite you over, hang out with you outside of work finally,” atsumu says, flopping onto the couch next to sakusa, arm flung around him, pressed up against his side, very in his space. “isn’t that right, omi?”

“the only good piece of advice i think you’ve ever given,” sakusa says, deadpanned, but the corners of his lips curl upwards when suna chokes on his drink and throws a thumbs up his way.

“that’s a point for kiyoomi,” suna calls out, “if we’re all keeping score at home, that’s kiyoomi 162 and atsumu 1.”

atsumu sits forward, “that’s because you guys never give me well deserved points. what about the other night when i said that really funny thing and then i was like see that’s point worthy? and then you guys said-”

“not if ya ask for it,” osamu says, “that’s the most basic rule and has cost ya so many points, but ya still keep askin’ for em.”

“if he doesn’t ask for em, how’ll you guys know when he’s being funny?” you joke and the instant that it leaves your mouth, you’re so worried that it won’t land or that it’s too mean, but sakusa chuckles and suna laughs even louder than before and osamu smiles proudly.

“that’s a point, that’s gotta be a point,” suna says, nodding, head looking back from sakusa to osamu. sakusa nods shortly and that’s enough for suna to laugh even harder. “tsumu, you’re tied for second, but she’s gonna surpass you before the night’s over i bet.”

osamu nods over to the couch as atsumu starts yelling at suna. he walks over with you and sits down next to you, arm draped over the top of the couch, just barely ghosting over your shoulders, and all you want to do is lean your weight into his side, but instead you stay upright, rigid almost as you hold the bag of onigiris in your hands.

sakusa spots the bag as it drags on the floor, looks down at it and then raises his eyebrows at you. “you brought gifts?” he asks and you offer him the bag, leaning forward to hand it over. “thanks,” he offers, instantly rooting around to find his favorite and tearing it open.

“don’t get rice on the rug,” atsumu says, interrupting his argument with suna, clicking his tongue.

“fuck off,” sakusa answers, biting into the onigiri again.

“look, at least eat it over a plate,” atsumu complains, standing up and walking into the kitchen to grab a few small plates. he hands one to sakusa and another to suna, grabbing the bag from sakusa’s feet and throwing it to suna’s.

atsumu is starting to seem less and less scary.

/\ /\ /\

halfway through the night, atsumu is walking around picking up little pieces of trash and dishes that sakusa or suna have left, complaining loudly at every single one. “you guys are horrible guests, y’know that? ya’d think that i’d have ya over enough times and ya’d start cleaning up after yourself.”

sakusa and suna and osamu all ignore atsumu’s complaining while he’s in the living room, but the second that he disappears into the kitchen it’s more direct, “samu!!!!! come help me with the dishes,” atsumu yells.

“dumbass, it’s your party, you clean up,” osamu yells back.

“you always help me with the dishes,” atsumu whines.

he refuses to leave you alone. he made a promise. and you love having him here, sitting on the loveseat with you across from suna and omi, but they’re talking to you and they are, indeed, much calmer than atsumu, not that you thought he’d lie to you, and you’re enjoying your conversation a lot. “you go ahead,” you say, steady look thrown his way to prove how truthful you’re being and he hears it all loud and clear. he nods, smiling, leaving the three of you alone in the living room.

/\ /\ /\

a bit later in the night and the only two people in the living room are you and osamu, but there isn’t any space to show for it. you’re pressed up against each other, legs draped over his thighs, practically in his lap, pointing at the frames on atsumu’s walls and the photos inside of them and the stories behind them, finishing whatever number beer this is.

you don’t even really remember getting into this position. it was either gradual enough to not notice the shift little by little or the change felt so natural there wasn’t a before and after, only a now. your spine is pressed up against the arm rest, backs of your thighs resting on the upper tops of his, your hand resting on the grasp he has on your knee, and the way that you’re pressed together isn’t even the most intimate thing about the two of you right now.

because osamu has been telling you a story for the past twenty minutes about the first year that he opened onigiri miya. you knew the jist of it, the broad strokes, the big details. you knew numbers and dates and first recipes, but hearing about his soft open and how his regulars became regulars felt much more telling.

you didn’t know about his somewhat rocky start or the fear of taking out a loan to fund this dream of his or how terrified he is of failing to this day, but you do now.

when he tells you, his voice is steady, genuine, and his eyes are comforting and grateful, and everything about the way that he speaks lets you know for certain that he isn’t just telling this story to everybody. as he finishes, patches up all of the gaps in the story that he skipped over and any details that he might have missed, you lean forward, wrapping your arms around his bicep. you rest your head on his shoulder, tucking your feet underneath you, knees resting on the side of his thigh, and he exhales, kisses you softly on the top of your head and says, “thanks for listenin’, angel.”

you turn to look at him, to rest your palm against his cheek, to thank him for telling you, but you don’t get that far, startled by the loud yell in the kitchen.

“you’re fucking so dumb,” suna laughs, the metalic sound of keys jingling follows, gets louder and louder until sakusa and suna and atsumu all emerge to pass through the living room to the front door.

“idiot hosted a party and ran out of beer,” suna explains to the two of you as he pushes atsumu towards the front door, “we’re headed out for a refill. need anything?” you’re increasingly grateful that no one, not even atsumu, has made mention of how entangled the two of you are on the couch.

“are ya sure you’re okay to drive?” osamu asks, look thrown over his shoulder to atsumu.

“omi’s drivin’,” atsumu says, pressing an obnoxious kiss into the side of his cheek, “only had like 2 beers all night, first one was hours ago.”

“i’m cool,” sakusa says, nodding, and osamu doesn’t press a single second more, evidently trusting him.

“see ya in a bit,” atsumu calls out, back towards you, waving as the door is pulled open and suna and sakusa leave in front of him.

when the front door closes, despite the alcohol in your bloodstream clouding your thoughts a tiny bit, the realization hits both of you that you are alone, off work, not at work, and you both really love the way that the spots on your skin in contact with one another feel. you don’t say a word, let the silence settle in, too occupied with your own thoughts to try and formulate them into sentences, too worried about whatever might be going on in osamu’s head.

his touch pulls you out of it, a gentle finger coaxing you to look up in his direction, dull nails scraping against your jaw, thumb nudging your chin, and this is the first time that a moment like this isn’t brought on the forwardness of your words. you melt against his warmth, push your cheek into his palm, turn your head and kiss his thumb. there’s no timer counting down in your head, no rushing to get this moment over with in time, even though there maybe should be some urgency, you just want to be here, present.

he moves you slowly, but confidently, reaching over to guide you by your hips until you’re seated in his lap, one knee on either side of his thighs. this position is so new for the two of you, you on top, him looking up at you, the softness of cushions beneath you.

you wrap your hands around the back of his head, thread your fingers into his hair, pull down gently on the locks until his neck is completely stretched, lips are as close to you as they can be without you having to move. he looks so pretty, waiting, expectant, patient, needy. you like this position very much.

the slight pressure where your fists reside in his hair, this faint lost look in your eyes from having this tiny inkling of control, the weight of you in his lap, how your head tilts back as you pull his back, mirroring the motion you’re trying to achieve. you look so pretty, trying, out of your comfort zone, longing, restless. he likes this position even more.

he tugs you forward, shifts your balance, and you’re crashing into him, arm reaching out to brace yourself on the back of the loveseat, face inches from his. all he has to do to close the gap is sit up. your lips are soft, kiss is hard, and you shift your arms to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him deeper into you.

you feel like a teenager, kissing your crush on a living room sofa, giddy and sappy and smiling as he wraps his arms around your lower back to press you closer into him. you smooth your hands down his chest, his stomach, press your fingertips into the inside of his thighs, nails scratching against the fabric of his jeans.

“missed you a lot, samu,” you admit, forehead against his for a tiny breath break.

“and i missed ya even more, love,” he shoots back, one peck pressed into your lips and then another. “i don’t think i can wait this long to kiss ya again.”

you shake your head against his, “please, don’t.” you kiss him again, more passionate, breathless. you need him to feel how much you need this, how badly you need for him to not leave you alone for this long again. “promise me,” you mumble against your plea.

“promise,” he says, pulling away to look up into your eyes, “wasn’t plannin’ on it.” you claw your fingers into his thighs harder and osamu bucks his hips up into you at the touch, a soft groan leaving his chest, a knowing smile on his lips in response to your devilish one.

“we’re right by the front door,” osamu warns, leaning into the crook of your neck, kisses placed against soft skin, fingers molding around your hips, dipping down the back of your skirt.

“you’re strong,” you reason, half-joking, “you can fix that.”

one second you are on the couch and the next second, you are not. you are in osamu’s arms, tiny squeal as he lifts you effortlessly and walks with you down the hallway. when he pushes open a door with your back and sets you down, it’s not nearly as plush as you’re anticipating it being. you let out a small laugh, shaking your head.

“you really want to fuck in your brother’s bathroom?” you ask, curious, but impatient smile on your face.

“you really want to fuck in my brother’s bed?” he shoots back. osamu’s laugh tells you everything that you need to know, an easy nudge that just says, trust me, and you don’t have to walk down the hall and take a peek into atsumu’s bedroom or have osamu spell out all of the reasons that he thinks fucking in the guest bathroom is a better idea.

it’s clean, really clean actually. neatly decorated, virtually untouched. small, sure, but you and samu don’t need an ocean’s worth of space, the two of you could make do in a stall. the glass of the shower is residue-less and the white solo-standing sink across from it is practically sparkling. the window is slightly cracked and the carpet on the floor in the middle of the room is soft.

“yea,” you lean forward after a minute of surveying the area, hopping down off of the edge of the sink, “you’re right.” you rest your forearms on his shoulders, fingers clasped behind his neck, pulling him into you.

you can’t move osamu like he can move you, not even close. you pull on his neck, one hand on his shoulder, trying as best you can to wordlessly guide him into the position that you want him to be in, but he’s too engrossed in kissing you, in feeling your soft lips and tasting you. if the roles were reversed, you’d already be turned around right now, moved with strong hands in steady positions, but you’re struggling to silently communicate that you want him to be up against the sink right now.

“samu,” you whine against his lips, forehead pressed against his and now he’s kissing your pout, “lemme move you.”

oh my god, if he couldn’t have snapped right there, kissed you until you couldn’t breathe, fucked you until you couldn’t walk, given you everything in the entire world, every last grain of sand and drop of water, told you that he loved you or that he needed you or just that he wanted you to stick around forever. instead, he nods, can’t hide his smile as he moves in the soft direction of your pull, focuses on your gentle coaxing touch.

he moves until the pressure stops, your hands drifting down his chest and then his sides, palms digging into his hips, driving his lower back against the sink that you were just sitting on. osamu doesn’t ask any questions, isn’t the slightest bit curious as to why you’re moving him or what you have in store. he can see it in your eyes and your assured movements, the unfolding of desires and plans, and he’s very happy to just be along for the ride.

you’re slow to lower to your knees, even slower to place your fingers on his belt, ghosting touch skimming over the leather and against the cool metal buckle. osamu is filling in everything in his head, swallows harshly before a shaky exhale, “fuck.”

you look up at him with doe-like eyes, happy for once to be the one seeing the ruin in his lust-blown eyes and the anticipation on his face. “haven’t been able to get the feeling out of my head,” you say, eye contact steady as you pull his jeans down over his thighs, watch him watch you as you inch closer to his heavy cock, jaw falling open and his eyebrows furrowing in response. “of your cock on my tongue.” his response comes in whimpers and tensing forearms and a tighter grip on the edge of the sink.

fuck, he looks so pretty waiting like this, trusting you like this, hips pressing forward the slightest fraction just to get that much closer to your lips. his lips are slightly parted, bottom one moving with every unsteady exhale, a subtle blush in the highs of his cheeks. you can’t tear your eyes away from him, not as you take his drooling head into your mouth, slide the underside of his cock against your hot tongue.

“angel, fuck,” he grunts, “mouth’s so perfect.” he wants to touch you, to grab you by your hair and sink deeper into your mouth, but your hands are soft on his hips, fingers tucked up the hem of his shirt so he can feel your nails scraping against the skin, and you’re being so slow and so caring and savoring every drop of precome and twitch of his cock.

his knuckles are practically white, all restraint shown in the grip he has on the edge, because your mouth feels so warm and so wet and so good, but it feels even better knowing that you’re taking care of him in exactly the way you want.

you wrap your lips around his head, tongue laving over the slit and spongy tip, spit and precome gathering in your mouth, swallowing as you take more of him. your lips get tighter as you swallow, tongue slips against his length. it’s harder to focus the deeper you take him, the further his fat cock causes your jaw to open, the farther his thick head hits the back of your throat. moving your head back and forth on his throbbing cock, the image of him blurring as you move faster, but you’re determined to watch him unravel even heavier.

he’s leaving it completely up to you, the pace and the depth, and it’s so different for him to give up control and just let you do exactly what you want to him, but he misses the feeling of some part of you in his hands. it’s like you can read his mind, eyes flickering to his uneasy hands itching to feel something much more human underneath them. you slide your hands down his tense forearms, moving one to the side of your face and threading your fingers in the other. he doesn’t take advantage of this, this closeness to your mouth and your movements, only curls his dull nails against your warm skin.

you hum at the touch, vibration from your throat sending shivers up his spine, and if he watches you care for him so sweetly just another second longer he’s not going to be able to stop himself from coming down your throat.

“sweetheart,” he mumbles, low and whiney. you hear him, but you don’t want to, too enveloped in the heft on your tongue and the fullness of your throat and the familiar taste. he mumbles again, tapping two fingers gently against your cheek to get your attention, “bunny, hey.”

the air is cool compared to your encompassing mouth and tight throat, and osamu silently curses himself for saying anything at all. “hm?” you ask, side of your palm coming up to your bottom lip to wipe away the gathering sheen. he pulls you back up to your feet, hand strong on the back of your thigh as he presses you against him, heavy cock nudging into the fabric of the skirt between your legs.

his lips skim yours, not completely a kiss, as he speaks, “y’know what i can’t get out of my head, doll?” you shake your head, pleading eyes flickering to his lips, hanging onto every word, “how pretty you looked on top of me earlier.” the whimper this elicits from you drives osamu mad, large hand spanning your other cheek as he pulls you into a deep kiss, moving with you to the floor.

sitting with you in his lap, one knee bracketing either side of his hips, osamu is now very grateful for the stupidly expensive, surprisingly soft rug that he failed to convince his brother not to buy. the heel of the palm of your hand on his sternum drives him down to the floor, looking even more up at you now as you circle your hips, rubbing the thin cloth of your panties against his leaking exposed cock. “like this?” you ask, breathy and somewhat timid to be in control despite the fact that osamu was patient putty in your hands mere seconds ago.

he nods, hair messy against the rug beneath him, and you can only assume that another part of your slight discomfort is that, sure, you’ve had sex with osamu in bathrooms, more times than you should’ve to be honest, but you’ve never had sex with osamu lying on a bathroom floor, and for some reason, this feels even more filthy than any times before.

but osamu rests his hand on your thigh, pushes the fabric of your skirt up so that he can look down at the dark spot on your panties and the way they bunch and tighten as you slide your covered pussy against his throbbing length, bucks his hips up into you, lifting you off of the ground just enough to make you gasp, and yea, no, this feels incredibly right.

you brace yourself on his sternum, lift yourself up slightly to move your panties to the side, no patience or want to climb off of him and take your panties completely off, you want him inside of you right now. “could eat you out so good like this,” osamu says, eyes drifting up your body before settling on yours.

you shake your head. you want him inside of you right now. “next time,” you mutter, sinking down onto him slowly, inch by inch, and it just keeps fucking going. you tilt your head back, chin to the sky so that your moans have a better path to leave you. “samu, baby, fuck.”

when you’re finally seated completely on your cock, it’s like you can feel it in your stomach and in your throat, you’re so fucking full, he’s so fucking deep inside of you, you can barely fucking take it. you’re whimpering, tiny tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you babble, “fuck, i- you’re, mmm,” you shake your head, hand frantic to interlock with his as you circle your hips, not wanting to be without a single inch, “samu, fuck, so deep, you’re- i’m- i can’t- you’re so fucking deep inside of me, baby.”

he can barely take it either, so deep inside of your tight, clenching walls, completely surrounding him. every one of your tiny movements, every shift and circle and squirm, forces him to show restraint. he loves this view, this feeling, will continue to wait as you get adjusted and continue your fucked out babble no matter how badly he wants to flip you over and fuck you as hard as he can until you’re squirting all over the rug beneath you. “i know,” he chokes out, “i know, babygirl, i know.”

when you start to move, it’s nothing drastic, miniscule movements that don’t require much effort, pushing your hips forward, pulling them back, leaning towards osamu, tilting away. you can feel him move inside of you, but he stays this deep. all the while, you’re slurring nothing to him, tidbits of gratitude and cries of pet names, and if you’re this ruined already from this little, god he can’t wait until you’ve reduced yourself to tears, until he has to pick up the pieces and coax you through orgasm after orgasm.

he presses his fingertips into the fat of your hips, helping you along, picking you up a tiny bit more every time until you’re forced to follow the motion, pushing up onto your knees and letting yourself fall back down, skin clapping harshly against the tops of his thighs. you push his shirt up, desperate to feel the tiny prickles of sweat forming on his soft stomach and his heartbeat against your palm closer. every crash back down, a tiny exhale expelled from your lungs, out your quivering lips, so fucking cute.

“goin’ so slow, angel,” he says, not an objection or an issue, tone steady and in awe, practically an admiration. you nod at his words, barely any room in your head for them amidst the so full so full so deep so fucking full and deep and so full so deep inside hes so deep inside of me im so full of him.

your thighs are starting to shake, barely even breaking a sweat, but your core is tight and you can feel how sloppy you are around him and how all of your juices are dripping down his cock, can hear the sticky sound of slapping skin when you fall back onto him, and, “‘m so- gonna-,” you whine, “samu,” you whine louder, fat tears falling down your cheeks because you want more, need more, but you can barely even think straight, “please.”

he loves looking up at you, so pretty and needy, wouldn’t trade it for the world, so he’ll give you everything you want from down here. he drives his hips upwards, hands on your hips to move you against the weight of gravity as best he can. he’s barely even started fucking you when you tighten around him, flooding even more, soaking his cock, a throaty, “coming” matched with your eyes rolling back, fist forming around the fabric of his shirt.

you reach out, bracing yourself on the edge of the sink, other hand plastered against the glass of the shower door as bounce up and down on his cock. your movements are unpredictable, not as steady as his thrusts nor as rhythmic, but driven by instinct and whatever you think you need right now.

“wanna-,” osamu says, looking up at you, out of breath, pushing up the hem of your shirt to expose your stomach, “have to see your tits, pretty girl.”

your shirt is gone, bra undone, and as you continue moving yourself up and down on his cock, you realize this is the most undressed you’ve ever been fucking osamu. you’re not sure exactly how that makes you feel, but you figure you’ll have time to deal with the feelings later, because right now, osamu can’t keep his hands off you and you’re newly exposed skin.

he’s running his hands up your sides, hands groping your bouncing tits as they follow the quick, harsh movements that osamu is causing. his thumbs flick over your nipples, fingers dig into the fat, and he really can’t believe he’s never gotten to play with your tits before.

you can feel him everywhere, under the backs of your thighs and deep inside of you and over your chest and you’re coming again, clenching around him, grip tight around the sink as your thighs shake even harder, your movements weaker, slower, doll-like, as osamu fucks into you faster.

you’ve barely come down from your high before you’re ready to come again, thick cock splitting you open, hitting the deepest parts of you, filling you so perfectly. you’re so tight around him. you can feel every single throb, every strong pulse, and when osamu sits up, braces himself on his arm behind him, pulls your chest into his face with a gentle hand on your shoulder, you can’t help but cream all over his cock again, his name falling off of your tongue repeatedly.

he can’t fucking take it, how tight your walls are, how creamy you’re making his cock, how sticky the tops of his thighs are. “princess,” he says, a warning, “where do you want it?”

“on my-,” you breathe, you know exactly where you want it, “want it on my pussy.”

“fuck,” he says, shaky, “of course, baby, fuck.” he pushes forward further, creates a gap between the two of you as he leans you back, making sure that you’re able to brace yourself in the same way that he is before letting go of your lower back. he pulls out of you, thick cock resting on your sloppy pussy, hips bucking to slide the underside against your sensitive clit and soft skin.

he wraps his fist around his cock and you watch in awe, pupils wide as you stare down at his tight grip around his throbbing length, the way his thumb swipes over the head as he gets to the top. you reach forward, wrapping your own smaller hand around his cock. he’s so thick, so weighty in your hand, and every pump of his cock coaxes a throaty grunt out of osamu, eyes floating from place to place, on your cute hand around his fat cock, on your pretty tongue swiping over your bottom lip, on your bouncing tits as you stroke him faster.

if it hadn’t been so long since he’d fucked you last, he’d have forced himself to last all night, just to watch you jerk him off all night, until your arm got so tired that he had to take over for you and all you could do was watch or use your other hand, awkward movements and slower pace, but different grip to get used to.

another time, he thinks to himself as he thrusts up into your hand slightly, spilling over the side of your fist, thick load leaking out of the tip of his cock and onto your already messy pussy, creamy ropes landing on the insides of your thighs and on top of your pretty cunt and cute clit. you lean back, fingers still wrapped around his cock loosely as you use your other hand to smear his come between your legs, mixing his mess with yours before sticking your fingers into your mouth.

your fingers are barely out of your mouth as osamu kisses you, hard, so hard that he nearly knocks you backwards, sitting up onto his knees to angle your head up towards him. he wants to tell you so bad, wants to say fuck it to all the voices in his head and the fear in his bones and just admit it to you. the look in your eyes when you pull away doesn’t make it any easier.

but your hoarse voice and your giddy smile and your shy, “should probably clean up before they get back, huh?” pulls him out of it. he laughs, short and airy, presses another small peck into your lips because he can, and then helps you to your feet.

“maybe one day we’ll be able to, like, actually clean up with a shower or something instead of just,” you gesture to the toilet paper in his hand, “this everytime.”

osamu smiles, grabbing your shirt in the corner of the room and extending it to you. “maybe that one day could-”

you didn’t hear the key in the lock or the door open, but you do hear atsumu throw his shoes against the wall and very loudly call out, “we’re baaack.” you look at osamu because you’re not sure what to do, half dressed, still a mess, rug undealt with and very loud evidence of something happening in the guest bathroom.

“it’s so late, why are you being so loud,” suna retorts. you can hear the three sets of footsteps as they move in the opposite direction towards the living room.

“where are they?” sakusa asks, and now you can hear the footsteps spread out, all beginning to look in different areas of the apartment, bags set down on coffee tables, doors opened.

“how do we play this?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed, chewing on your lip thoughtfully, and osamu wants to just forget about making a smart plan and stay here and fuck you again instead or maybe just kiss you until everybody leaves or falls asleep. “samu,” you say, waving your hand in front of his face, “do you want your brother to know we had sex in his bathroom?”

no, no he most definitely does not. he shakes his head, thinking just as hard as you are on a good solution, on maybe sending you out first or walking out together quickly and hoping they don’t notice where you’ve come from or sneaking out of the window perhaps. you throw your shirt back on, straighten out your skirt, clean yourself up as best you can as osamu continues cycling through plans in his mind.

“they fuckin’ bolt?” suna asks, probably in the kitchen or atsumu’s room, you can’t quite place the footsteps.

“maybe a good night for samu,” atsumu jokes, and you can hear the pop of a can opening and a soft oof as he throws himself onto the couch, unbothered now by wherever the two of you have gone.

“fuck off, miya,” sakusa sighs. “probably just left because they didn’t want to be around you anymore. wish i fuckin’ could.”

“another point for omi, count it,” suna says.

“what?” atsumu laughs, breezing past the taunts thrown in his direction, “i’m just sayin’ it must be nice to have an employee fuck buddy.”

your heart is thumping louder, harsher. you feel trapped in more ways than one, deeper than just not knowing how you’ll leave or get home, but in your own mind. you’re not looking at osamu now, embarrassment spreading through your entire body, showing evident on your face and in your shrinking posture.

“you fucking serious?” suna asks, “you think they’re still…?”

“c’mon, he’s gone, fuck you think they went?” atsumu jokes, and you wish his words weren’t as firm or loud or correct.

“i never said that,” osamu says, quietly enough to not breach the barrier of the door, “i’ve never called you that, or said anything like that, i sw-.”

“i should probably go,” you say, not hearing or not listening to whatever osamu is saying right now. it didn’t really matter what osamu said or didn’t say, it’s the perception that you didn’t want skewed in the first place, and here it was, twisted and contorted and confirming your biggest fears about falling for osamu as you did.

“wait,” osamu says, hand reaching out to softly wrap around your wrist and as comforting as the touch is, as much as you want to melt into it or ask for more, you wriggle out of his grasp. “hey,” he says, softer now, just trying to get your attention. “how do you think you’re going to get home?” he asks.

“i’ll just get an uber or something, i don’t know,” your voice is shaky, weak, confused, hurt.

“no,” osamu says, taking a step closer to you, “no, you won’t. i’ll drive you back.” you shake your head. surviving an entire car ride with osamu after hearing whatever atsumu just said seems like an impossible feat.

you don’t want to leave, but you don’t want to stay here. you can’t listen to another word, don’t want them to continue speaking or hear what else atsumu thinks of you. you don’t want to face them, god, you don’t want to face them, but hearing the rest of this conversation seems somehow even worse. you turn, opening the door to the bathroom, face warm and palms sweating as you take a step out into the hallway.

osamu moves to grab your hand, to pull you back in, to just talk to you for a minute, but the second that you’re in the hallway, despite how badly you just wanted to quietly tiptoe to the front door undetected, you’re noticed. “shit,” suna says, under his breath, but loud enough for everyone to understand the gravity of the situation.

“thanks for having me,” you say, not looking at anyone, not directing the sentence towards anybody, shoes slipped on quickly, door opened quickly, and bounding down apartment stairs as you hear your name being called from behind you.

the commotion behind you starts, an “are you fucking kidding me?” muffled by the closed door, rushed footsteps down the hall, and then the noises of the apartment becoming louder as the door is opened once more. you’re outside by the time osamu calls your name again.

the instant breath of fresh air that fills your lungs is already calming your nerves, sending signals to your brain that it’s okay to start sobbing, the wind will dry your tears. you’re grateful that you don’t listen right away, that it takes a few seconds for your muscles to catch up with your thoughts, because the door flings open behind you, a huff of breaths following the sound of it closing, and jogging footsteps running to catch up with the distance you’ve created.

“wait,” osamu says, but you don’t stop, not sure you could even if you wanted to. you don’t know where you’re going or why you won’t just stop and talk to him, but you keep walking, one foot in front of the other down uneven pavement. “yn, wait, please,” he calls again, voice closer, projecting over urban noises and passing cars. when his fingers wrap around your wrist, the feeling of warmth and the beat of your pulse in his hand scream louder than anything you’ve heard tonight.

you turn around and the thoughts and signals have caught up with you, blurry vision amidst a lash line of tears, and you wait. you’re grateful for the distortion, for the unclear picture of osamu standing there, face solemn and unsure how to proceed, how not to lose you, and you can’t wait anymore, “fuck, samu, what are we? what is this?”

the words are tumbling out of you now, every worry and clouded judgement from the moment you walked through the doors of onigiri miya, “fucking one time in a club before i even worked there, that’s fine,” you shake your head, pulling your wrist out of his grasp softly, “fucking once at work after close, okay maybe less fine. fucking in a hotel bathroom in the middle of a catering shift? definitely crossing a line there.” you list off your endeavors, remembering them all perfectly well.

“now, we’ve just fucked in your brother’s bathroom, off the clock and not work related. and your brother referred to me as an employee fuck buddy,” you say, chest aching as the phrases leaves you, “i mean, am i? what is this?”

he doesn’t leave you waiting for an explanation, doesn’t speak over you, he’s kind and attentive like that. “i never called you that. i never said that about you, yn.”

“fuck, samu, it doesn’t matter,” you say, though you suppose it’s a slight lie. the weight on your shoulders and your chest is a bit lighter now, but not entirely gone, “that’s how they see me.”

“they don’t even know about any of those times after we knew each other, only the first time, only that first night,” he explains, but they’re not the right words. they’re soothing some anxieties in you, but not the right ones, but you don’t know which anxieties are the right ones.

you close your eyes or turn your head, it doesn’t really matter, you just can’t see him. it’s dark outside and you can’t focus on much despite there not being much to focus on, and your voice snags as you say, “if i wouldn’t have made a big deal about this,” you swallow, even softer now, “would we have left that bathroom and skated around the idea of fucking each other until something snapped?”

the tears have breached your lash line, have fallen down the inner corner, dripped off of your chin and onto your shirt below. “and what?” you laugh, “then we’d just repeat the cycle again? and then again? and i’d never be anything other than your employee fuck buddy, i mean fuck, samu, come on.” your voice is desperate now, cracking and confused, and he’s just standing there, patient and listening.

“it’s never been about how you view me or how you feel about me,” you shrug, back of your hand smearing tears and mascara against your cheekbones. “or it has, but just,” you groan, frustrated, “i know you care about me somewhat or in cyclical doses, i’ve never doubted that, i just want to know that even though you haven’t called me that, that’s not what you think of me too?”

“of course not,” osamu says, instant and assured. he reaches out again. you let him this time, cup the side of your face, wipe the few remaining tears, pull you closer to him, but not into him, there’s a difference. he just wants you to look at him. “i’m sorry,” he says, eyes darting around your face, not knowing where to land, “i didn’t mean to make it this difficult. i was trying to be respectful and do it right and-,” he takes a deep breath, “all i want is to be with you.”

he continues on, voice soft and thick, soothing all of the right anxieties, “i’ve been thinking about you nonstop since that night at the hotel and i swear to god if we stayed another night, i would’ve spent it with you in my bed, in my arms, but we left and i didn’t- we didn’t-” he takes another deep breath, talks softer now, a tiny scoff preceding his words, “it’d be easier if i could just kiss ya right now.”

you’re nodding because he’s right and because your shoulders feel light enough for you to do that now and because everything that he’s saying is the everything you want to hear, but that’s not the reason he’s saying it. “no one’s stopping you,” you breathe.

you don’t have to meet him halfway, he comes to you. presses his lips against yours, snakes his other hand up to the other side of your face and holds you still as he takes a step into you, body close, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you even closer if he can.

he pulls away, breathless and the question is already leaving his lips before they’re off yours, “can i take you out?”

your first instinct is to laugh, and you do, because you know his schedule and his next planned night off. “you? get a night off?” you scoff, shaking your head, “who are you going to have close for you? me?”

he laughs, huge grin accompanying it because it’s so easy when you’re around, “no, no, i’ll figure something out,” he breathes, shaking his head harder, “it doesn’t matter, all that matters is that you say yes and that i get to take you out on a date, a real date, and then we get to do real date things, and after date real date things.”

your laugh is louder now, lowering your head into his shoulder as you joke, “i don’t know if i can get the weekend off. my job’s pretty important to me.”

he kisses you again, absolutely beaming as he pulls away. “please just say yes so that i can start making plans.” when the joking fades and you’re standing there under shitty streetlight and nonexistent moonlight and you can see the seriousness in his kind eyes, you don’t want to keep fucking around, you just want to say yes.

you want to cross the boundary of hooking up and weird feelings and move forward to kissing at work and carpooling home together. you want to break this cycle and start new ones, ones with less confusion and more domesticity. you want definitions and declarations and dates and labels.

“alright, alright, yes, god,” you say, furrowing your eyebrows, waiting a beat before taking a breath and then his face into your hands to place a soft kiss onto his nose. “i would really love to go out with you finally.”

seconds pass and then minutes and osamu is just happy to be out here on the sidewalk with you in his arms kissing you every other second, and you’re just happy to finally be in a place where you don’t have to worry about the next time you get to kiss osamu again.

you’re the one that breaks the silence, a soft smile on your face unmatching the tone of your sentence, giggly and giddy and somehow just as needy. “can’t believe i’ll get to fuck you in a real bed.”

you’re expecting some form of scoff or laugh or half-joke or disbelief, but he grins at you, drags his lips against the side of your face, and says low in your ear, “i know, angel, can’t wait.”

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perotovar · 5 months

Text

into the beat of the night (ch 3) "self control"

moodboard by the lovely @hellishjoel, gif by me

pairing: frankie morales/enby!oc!river price (they/them) rating: 18+ (minors dni) chapter warnings: fingering, one (1) handjob, discussions of sexuality/gender (in an... interesting way), goth stereotypes abound, swearing, more cute shit word count: 3k dividers by @saradika beta: @scenaaario (ily adrienne ♥)

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series summary: frankie thought he had himself figured out by now. he liked both men and women, had dated both in the past. but when someone that challenges what he thinks that means comes into his life, in an unlikely place, he truly learns who he is, and more importantly, who he loves.

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“What’s their name again?”

“River. I already told you, Benjamin,” Frankie chuckled, taking a drink from his beer.

“Right, sorry. I’ve just never met a non… what was it again?”

Frankie, Benny, Will, and Santiago were at their usual bar that night. It was in a different part of town than The Night Owl, with a completely different vibe, but it was cozy. The four of them had become regulars and knew the staff by name.

“Non-binary person,” Will said, shoving Benny on the shoulder. “Are you listening at all?”

Benny shot his brother a look and stuck his tongue out, because apparently Benny was still five. “Of course I’m listening! Non-bi-nar-y,” he sounded it out, tapping his finger on the table with each syllable. “What does, uh… What does that like, mean, Fish?”

Frankie furrowed his brows and took another drink. “I haven’t actually asked yet. All they told me is that they’re like… both, and neither, at the same time.” He hummed thoughtfully. “I was a little distracted after that and didn’t get to ask.”

Santiago grinned, slapping Frankie on the shoulder. “Good for you, Fish.”

Frankie rolled his eyes, but smiled, thinking about the kiss he shared with River the other night. They kept texting, and he’d even asked River out on a real date, which brought the guys to the bar. It had been a year or so since his last date and he needed advice on where to take someone like River. He wasn’t as familiar with the goth subculture and thought maybe his brothers would have experience. At the very least Ben, who’d been with a few different kinds of people.

“I did look it up that night after I got home, but I’m still a little confused,” Frankie shrugged.

“Just ask them, man,” Will offered. “They seemed cool with your first question.”

Frankie nodded, a look of determination crossing his features. “You’re right. It couldn’t hurt, right?”

Frankie was sweating. Marisol was with her mom this week, so he hadn’t had to worry about having that conversation yet. He was planning on telling River about her tonight. He checked his hair in the mirror again before he left, deciding to go without his hat tonight, but worried all his nerves would deflate the work he put into it. He sighed as he messed around with the unruly curls again. This is why he stuck to hats. Frankie’s phone vibrated on the bathroom counter, startling him.

ok im ready, eddie 😉

River still thought it was hilarious that Frankie had worn an Iron Maiden t-shirt to a goth club, claiming that it fit his “old man aesthetic”, whatever that meant. This led to River referring to Frankie as “Eddie”, after the band’s skeleton mascot.

Yeah yeah i’m coming

Frankie saw the typing dots appear and disappear a couple times before disappearing completely. He sighed to himself and checked his hair one last time before leaving his apartment.

When he got to the neighborhood of the address River had given him, he checked his phone again, making sure he was in the right place. He slowly crept up the hill towards the last line of apartments and immediately his heart started pounding. Frankie really liked River. He didn’t want to fuck this up, and hoped him being a dad wouldn’t ruin that. Or his big dumb mouth.

River was standing at the bottom of the staircase of the apartment complex and waved, a huge grin on their face. Frankie stopped the truck and leaned over to open the passenger side door for them to climb inside. The scent of bergamot, clove, and sandalwood filled his nostrils again as the truck door shut. Frankie calmed down, and smiled, leaning over to give River a kiss on the cheek. “You look amazing,” he breathed, taking in River’s outfit; they had a collarless shirt buttoned up all the way, tucked into plaid pants, and nice dress shoes. All black, of course. They wore no lipstick today, their makeup was simple, and their hair was perfectly straight. It looked like they’d freshly shaved the right side of their head as well. River’s look was so new for Frankie, he couldn’t help being captivated by them every time he saw them.

“Thank you,” River smiled, heart skipping a beat. “Where are we off to?” They rested their ring-clad hand over Frankie’s larger one in between the two of them on the seat. “When you said it was a surprise, I admit I got a little nervous.”

Frankie placed his hand on the back of the truck seat and looked behind them as he backed up to leave the apartment complex. River’s eyes were glued to Frankie’s neck and subtly licked their lips at the sight of the thick muscles and veins. Their eyes moved up to Frankie’s side profile and they swooned.

“How come? Don’t trust me?” Frankie smirked, making eye contact before his eyes moved to the road, and started heading toward their destination.

River shrugged, even though they knew he couldn’t see them. “Maybe. Maybe not,” they smirked. The red light of the clock on the console caught River’s eye; 7:30pm.

“Well, that’s a shame. I had a nice dinner planned and everything,” Frankie showed them an exaggerated pout, a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh, well, in that case.”

The restaurant Frankie picked might’ve been a little more… casual, then he remembered. The last time he was here was with Jackson. He shook off the memory. He was here with River now. The place was actually more like a diner, with vintage photos of women in pinup-style outfits and poses.

Frankie reached for River’s hand and laced their fingers together as he found them a table, letting River sit first.

“Such a gentleman,” River teased, squeezing his hand before getting comfy in the booth.

“I try,” Frankie smiled bashfully as he joined them on the opposite side. The light shining down onto the table lit River beautifully. He noticed that River’s button-up was actually a dark green, with subtle velvet roses all over.

They ordered their food and made easy conversation. River talked about their job as an architect. They were working on designing a building that was be built in the next couple of years in the city. Frankie found it fascinating but couldn’t focus on the words, too distracted by their calming voice and watching their mannerisms. River talked with their hands a lot whenever they got excited about something, and Frankie thought it was adorable.

“Sorry, I know I’m rambling now,” River shook their head, cutting themself off. Frankie frowned,mouth full of french fries.

“Please, continue, I don’t mind listening.”

So River did. They talked about anything and everything. Frankie interjected here and there, but was more than content to listen to River talk. When there was a lull in the conversation, Frankie’s palms started to get sweaty. Their plates were empty now, but River still had half of their milkshake left.

It was now or never. Frankie took a deep breath.

“So… I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he started. River raised an eyebrow and rested their chin on the palm of their hand, listening. Frankie cleared his throat before continuing. “Um, so I know this is a dealbreaker for some people, so I won’t be offended if you want to stop things after tonight. B-But I would like to stay friends if that’s the case.” He rubbed his sweaty hands on his thighs. “I’ve got a daughter.”

River was quiet for a second before a small smile appeared on their face. “I’m actually not surprised. How old is she?”

“You’re not?”

“Of course not. You’re an incredibly handsome man of a certain age–”

“Hey.”

“And any woman would be stupid not to make an honest man outta you,” River winked.

Frankie blinked a couple times before chuckling softly. River continued to surprise him. “Well, her mother isn’t in the picture, at least not with me. Marisol, my daughter, sees her half the time, and stays with me the other half of the time,” he explained, crossing his arms comfortably over the table. “Oh, and she’s four.”

“Aww, can I see a picture of her?”

Frankie’s heart fluttered as pulled his phone out, opening the album of photos devoted just to his little girl. He slid his phone over to River and they started scrolling through the photos with a smile on their face.

“She’s adorable, Frankie,” River hummed, returning his phone back to him. “I can tell you think the world of her. I won’t lie, I’m not really… uh, a kid kind of person. I always just planned on being the cool cousin and not a parent,” they muttered, resting their chin on their palm again.

Frankie nodded in understanding. “I totally get that. I just figured it wouldn’t be fair to you, or to Marisol, to keep her a secret, y’know?”

“Absolutely, and I appreciate you telling me,” River nodded back. “But I like you. A lot. And I’m willing to give this a shot with you. So I don’t think Marisol is a dealbreaker.”

Frankie’s heart soared at River’s words. “I really like you, too,” he grinned like an idiot, cheeks warm. “C’mon, we still have another part to this date.” He stood up and held his hand out for River to take.

After paying, the two found themselves back in Frankie’s truck heading down the highway. It was starting to get darker and the roads were clearing. They pulled up to a drive-in, but there weren’t any other cars.

“What is this, Grease?” River teased. “A diner and then a drive-in movie?”

Frankie snorted and reached out his window to pay for their tickets before finding somewhere to park. “I happen to like drive-in movies and diners, thank you very much.”

“That’s because you’re old–”

“I’m only a few years older than you,” Frankie deadpanned.

“Details.”

About a third of the way into the original Halloween, Frankie put his arm around River’s shoulders and pulled them close. River happily cuddled into Frankie’s side, loving the warmth and softness they found there.

Halfway through, River’s eyes started wandering elsewhere. They looked down at the crotch of Frankie’s jeans, and wondered what lay beyond the tight denim. They looked up at Frankie’s face and kissed the little patch in his beard that refused to grow hair. Frankie looked down at them, deep brown eyes looking over River’s features. He went from their dark-rimmed eyes, to their collarbone, and back to their plush lips, his heart pounding. He didn’t need any further convincing and started kissing River deeply, holding the side of their face.

River hummed into Frankie’s mouth and slowly crawled into Frankie’s lap. They grinned as Frankie huffed a breath against their lips, holding River’s hips in his large hands. River kissed the corner of Frankie’s mouth before moving down to the side of his neck and sucked a mark where his neck met his shoulder. Frankie shuddered, moving a hand down and squeezing River’s ass. They lifted their head and looked at the far-away expression on his face.

“Are you one of those guys that doesn’t like to fool around on the first date?”

Frankie blinked up at River, thinking about it. “I mean, no, but–” “Good,” River growled, latching back onto Frankie’s neck and sucking hard.

Frankie moaned openly at that, but pulled them away. “Wait,” he breathed. River tilted their head to the side and didn’t say anything, letting Frankie continue. “Um, I had another question.”

“Okay.”

“Well, uh. I don’t mean to kill the mood, because God, I really wanna get back to that, b-but I was curious,” Frankie swallowed, not making eye contact again. “I looked up what non-binary was after you told me and I was a little confused, and basically I just– Um, I wanna know like, how… this would… work,” he trailed off, gesturing between the two of them and at the bulge in his jeans.

“You’re asking what I have so you know how to proceed.” It was a statement, not a question, said softly in understanding. River played with the curls at the back of Frankie’s neck.

Frankie nodded. “If that’s an invasive question, I’m really sorry, and–”

“Shh,” River chuckled, pecking Frankie on the cheek. “It’s okay, I promise. I’m not offended. You’re actually being really sweet about all of this. I know this is new for you.”

Frankie smiled shyly and shrugged, but let them continue.

“I was raised as a girl. ‘Assigned female at birth’, is typically what we call it,” River looked down, playing with the collar of Frankie’s shirt. “You were assigned male at birth. The doctors looked at your parts and decided that’s what you were, and you never felt like it was incorrect, right?”

Frankie nodded, listening carefully.

“Right. Well, it felt wrong to me. I didn’t really know what the feeling was growing up. It’s actually kind of a recent development for me.”

Frankie chewed on his bottom lip, one question still buzzing around his head. “How do you… How did you know? And did you… have any… surgeries? To um–” he didn’t know how to word any of this.

River laughed softly. “Yeah, I had top surgery. I no longer have breasts, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Everything below the belt is still intact,” they grinned, moving their crotch closer to Frankie’s. “The complicated answer, especially for someone so new to this, is that gender is a societal thing. How you’re perceived, presented to the world is just through the eyes of society. How you see yourself is what actually matters, though. And when all that societal bullshit doesn’t affect your life, the roles you’re ‘supposed’ to play don’t matter anymore.”

“I’m River. River is me. I don’t care how people see me. I did all of this,” they gestured to their body. “For me. Not for anyone else. Because if I didn’t, I would be unhappy. And my own mental health and happiness matters more than some so-called church-going do-gooder’s opinion.”

Frankie looked at River in awe. Their confidence and respect for themself was one of the most attractive things he’d ever seen. “You’re amazing,” Frankie breathed, surging forward to kiss them deeply. He gripped River’s ass again and pulled them closer, grinding his hardening cock against them.

River moaned softly, grinding back, and tangling their fingers into his hair. Suddenly, Frankie pulled back, catching his breath.

“Wait, does that, like…” He thought for a second. “While I was doing my research, I came across a couple other terms I didn’t know.”

River chuckled and kissed down Frankie’s neck softly. “Go on.”

Frankie’s breath hitched, speaking shakily. “Um, I’ve always considered myself b-bisexual– oh– a-and if non-binary people are technically a th-third gender, then does that change?”

“No,” River hummed, licking underneath Frankie’s ear, before taking the lobe into their mouth and nibbling.

“It doesn’t?”

River shook their head. “Bisexual is more like an umbrella term. People interpret it differently,” they reached a hand down between them, trailing their fingers to Frankie’s belt buckle and undoing it. “For example, you’ve always assumed it just meant you were attracted to men and women, right?”

Frankie moaned softly as the pressure was relieved from his hard cock, and nodded.

“Exactly. Another way you could see it is you being attracted to people that are like you,” they gripped Frankie’s cock tightly, making him gasp sharply. “And people who aren’t.” They grabbed his hand and placed it onto their crotch, grinding against him.

He was so hard he was throbbing, and so turned on his head spun. He started undoing River’s dress pants and slipped his hand down to their panties, finding their pussy impossibly warm and wet.

“Fuck,” Frankie groaned, rubbing at their clit through the fabric of their underwear. River moaned sweetly and bit their bottom lip, moving Frankie’s boxer briefs out of the way so they could grip around his cock.

“You’re so hard,” River grinned, rubbing their thumb over the tip. They started stroking him slowly, watching as the head of Frankie’s cock appeared and disappeared underneath the foreskin.

Frankie was breathing heavily, resting his head on the back of his seat and looking at River through his lashes. He moved the tips of his fingers in small circles for a few moments before he moved his fingers beneath their underwear and touched bare skin. River gasped at the contact and nodded, giving him permission. Frankie slowly sunk his middle finger inside them and started pumping in and out. His thumb rubbed in time against their clit. River started moaning louder, throwing their head back to expose their throat to him.

Frankie saw an opening and latched his mouth onto their neck, marking them in return as his free hand held the back of River’s head. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he groaned, biting at River’s skin.

River shuddered at the praise, rocking their hips against Frankie’s hand. “‘M close,” they whined, panting down at him. They started to lose their rhythm on Frankie’s cock and squeezed him tightly in their fist. Frankie nodded in understanding and started moving his fingers faster, adding a second one as the slick sounds coming from between River’s legs filled the truck.

“C’mon, baby. You gonna come for me?” he breathed against their neck, leaving soft kisses against their skin. The contrast between what his mouth and what his hand were doing was overwhelming and River wouldn’t change it for the world.

River nodded, their brows moving downward in pleasure before stilling above him as they came. Their hips rocked back and forth over Frankie’s hand as they came down, moaning and biting their lip.

The sight of River coming was enough for Frankie and his cock twitched hard as he erupted all over River’s hand. He grunted and hid his face in their neck as his balls emptied messily. He whined softly, twitching in the aftershocks.

River giggled quietly and held him close after licking their hand clean. “Gonna have to blow you next time,” they hummed thoughtfully.

Frankie groaned as his oversensitive cock twitched between them. “Don’t say shit like that while I’m still vulnerable, you menace.”

River bit his cheek, then kissed it softly. “You love it.”

He did. He really did.

a/n: please enjoy this meme that inspired the scene above

#frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fic #oaksfics

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igotanidea · 3 months

Text

Shitstorm: Jason Todd x stripper!reader

Yes I know the picture does not fit here perfectly, go ahead and judge me :D

part 1 : Backyard

***

The pack of cigarettes flew her way in a perfect arc. Y/N was quick enough to catch it and only then took a look around to check whether it was some higher power being generous after a hell of a night. Spoiler alert : it wasn’t.

„Hm. It’s you.” she smirked looking at the familiar black-haired boy standing on the bottom of the stairs to the club.

„I always pay my debts sunshine.” Jason smiled mischievously.

‘Great. That makes us even and we can gladly forget about each other.”

For no particular reason he was making her nervous, be it on purpose or accidentally. And it was weird. All things considered, she was the girl who was undressing for half-drunk, aroused men in a club. Having eyes and interest on her should be nothing special given the specific of her profession, and yet Jason’s attitude was-- different.

As cliche as that sounded.

Just to calm her nerves she reached one cigarette and lighted it up, letting the addiction take control of her thoughts and making them just a bit clearer. It was nice and peaceful and for a moment she forgot about this annoying piece of muscles still standing down there with his hands in pockets.

„What?” she hissed

„Charming as usual.’

‘We only talked once.”

„Twice.”

„This is not talking.”

„Last time I checked exchanging words were count as conversation.”

„Smart ass” she muttered wondering about the best way to walk past him. Currently it was a bit impossible because his tall muscled frame was blocking her only way out.

„Is that all you have to say?”

„Did you lost your brother again, little boy? Maybe I should go check inside for someone interesting.”

„Come on, I can tell you’re eyeing me like I’m your next client. I’m not so little and you know it” he grinned not even bothering to play coy. Completely unlike last time.

„Seen better.” she shrugged not giving him any satisfaction nor boosting his ego.

„You sure? Thought you were a stripper not a hooker?”

‘How do you know nothing changed since last time?”

‘Did it?” this time his tone was a bit more serious as he looked at her. He didn’t want it to be true. As pathetic as it sounded he needed this girl to keep her sharp mind and even sharper tongue. He had some business that needed to be taken care of. Concerning that last villain he’s been chasing. With no success.

But.

Now he might have leverage.

Before she could make a move, as agile as a cat he slid to the top of the stairs, taking a spot next to her leaning on the door. She rolled her eyes trying to shove him away, but it only caused him to laugh.

„Why are you here again?”

„Business.”

„That’s vague.”

„Got your interest though.”

„If you’re looking for some fun and changed so much since the last time you run away from the crowd, may I remind you there are plenty girls inside. I can even recommend one or two who would love to have their hands on you. I have no idea why do you always keep destroying my work breaks.”

„I was hoping that couple from last week would be here.”

„They broke up.” she chuckled

„Oh, really, who would have thought?” Jason chuckled back „they seemed close.”

‘You have no idea.” she instinctively passed him the pack of cigarettes

‘Is that an invitation to further talk?” his eyebrows raised but being a chain smoker he could not refuse

„It’s an invitation to shut your mouth. For a guy, you do talk freaking lot.”

„Told you I got business to discuss.”

„And I told you --”

„I’m serious y/n.” he looked at her with a mix of annoyance, desperation and honesty.

„I’m at work.” she turned her head away from those pretty green eyes.

„Didn’t notice. Besides, you got ten minutes of break left.”

„So now you’re stalking me and know my schedule?”

‘Sure.” Jason shrugged „I also know where you live.”

„Bullshit!” she she blew smoke straight into his face „if you knew you would wait for me there, cutting my any way out. And yet, you’re here. In the dodgy neighbourhood, in a seedy strip club.”

„Aren’t you ever scared your attitude would get you in trouble?”

„You have no idea, pretty boy. Talked my way out of most of them. Got scars to prove it.” she pulled her skimpy top off slightly showing him some scars on the side and belly. „So you better not mess with me.”

If only she knew she has been talking to the Red Hood all this time.

Unless, which was actually very probable, it wouldn’t have any effect on her.

For a moment both of them went quiet. Thinking about the strangeness of the situation they found themselves in. In a different timeline they would never met let alone start becoming... something. What that something was, was still to be defined (or not), but for some indescribable reason that little bantering was becoming quite enjoyable.

Finally as her break was coming to the end she threw the cigarette on the ground extinguishing it with a shoe.

„What’s the business? And if you can’t describe it in three sentences max I swear I’ll stop listening and throw you down the stairs.”

„Deal!” Jason laughed and shook her outstretched hand „I need a pair of sharp eyes, a fast working brain and a cute face to watch someone for me.”

‘Ok. I wear lenses, my brain goes off sometimes making me do reckless things and I my face is far from cute when I get angry. Do I still qualify?” she raised an eyebrow suddenly uncharacteristically animated at the proposition. A magnet for trouble that girl was.

„Trust me sunshine, you’ll the perfect candidate for the position.”

And just like that she became some sort of spy. Or- was about to become, cause her little adventure was only about to start.

Did Jason have regrets and guilts about dragging her into the Red Hood and the Bats’ shit? Yes. Maybe a little. But still, he didn’t know her well enough to get actually worried even if something were to happen to her.

Brutal approach, but absolutely necessary in the line of work. You get some you loose some and the casualties were an integral part of his life.

Do not get attached. EVER.

And she didn’t need to know about his other identity and his whole plan. Just the parts that were important from her point of view. Observing the villain, getting close to him using her professional skills. Be some sort of double agent.

Just work. Nothing more nothing less.

And that little stinging in his chest was only the effect of some earlier shooting that happened this week leaving him slightly injured.

Nothing more.

Definitely no regret from just throwing her into the middle of the shitstorm.

***

Spoiler alert: Y/N was not stupid.

And knew where to dig to find the information needed to the full picture of the situation.

She didn’t do shitstorm.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction

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eddiemadmunson · 1 year

Text

Angel - part 4

Summary: You are Heleana’s best friend and one day you catch Aemond’s eye and everything in your life will change upside down.

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Word Count: 3, 000

Warnings: dirty talk, suggestive themes, fingering, oral (f receiving), cheating

A/N: English is not my first language.

Aemond is 20, Helaena, Aegon and Y/N are 22, Jason Lannister is 25

Tag: @the-phantom-of-arda @hamatoanne @aemondsdoll @schniiipsel @okfashionista @zillahvathek @teranya @tempo-rary-fix @reneki @moonmaiden1996 @padfooteyes @nina2697 @ryswritingrecord @iiamthehybrid

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

You walked towards the Targaryen house with 2 bottles of wine, actually looking forward to spend the evening with Helaena and your other friends Rhaena and Baela. It’s been a while since you had a girls night. And you seriously needed to talk about the situation with Jason with someone. He just made a scene when you told him that you will spend your evening at your friend’s house. He was extremely jealous of Aegon, which was ridiculous. It was Aemond who he should be jealous about. You still felt mortified about what happened under the table last week. It was definitely cheating and another reason why you had to think about your relationship with your boyfriend. Because you hated to admit it but Aemond and his wandering hand made you cum more intense in 5 minutes than Jason in the last 5 months.

You were about to ring the bell when the door opened, revealing very good looking Aegon. He definitely had a date. “Going to make some desperate girl, happy?” you teased him and he grinned. “Jealous, kitten? I can cancel it and give all of my attention to you,” he winked at you and you rolled your eyes. “I think I will pass this amazing opportunity, Aegon. I prefer the company of your sister,” you said sarcastically and his eyes grew wide. “That’s hot,” he grinned and you scrunched your nose in disgust. Is he really getting turn on by the idea of you making out with his own sister? “You are such a pig, Aegon,” said Helaena who heard the end of your conversation with her brother. She obviously had the same opinion as you. “I was joking, Hel,” he grinned at his twin. “Whatever, go away before Rhaena and Baela come down the stair and kick your ass for annoying Y/N,” she smirked when Aegon visibly paled. He was actually scared of Baela, that girl hated him and already kicked his ass when he tried to seduce her drunk sister couple months ago. “Enjoy your evening ladies,” he winked at you and hurried away. “He is such a clown sometimes,” Hel snorted and rushed you inside the house. You had really good time with the girls, you were laughing and drinking, gossiping about your classmates and professors. Baela was the first who addressed the main topic of the evening - your sex life, and you didn’t like it at all. “Y/N! Hel told us that your boyfriend sucks,” she said out of nowhere and you almost choked on wine you were drinking. “What? That’s not true,” you tried to protest weakly. “Come on, Y/N. We love you and we want you to be happy in your life. And Jason isn’t the one who makes you happy. He acts like he is already the boss of his father’s company, he never has time for you and when he does he takes you to some fancy restaurant or to see opera or something”. “He likes opera,” you explained. “Yes, HE likes opera. Do you like opera, Y/N?” she asked. “No, you don’t, it bores you to death, you love going to concerts, fairs, football games, cinemas, bars... he never goes with you because it’s below him,” Hel answered her own question and you sighed knowing that she is right. You were always doing whatever Jason liked or wanted. He never asked you what you want to do to or where to go. He never spent time with your friends because he didn’t like them, especially Helaena and Baela. “Maybe he is very good in bed and that’s the reason why she is with him,” Rhaena suggested and all three girls looked at you curiously. “Ehm.. he is OK, I guess,” you shrugged and Baela snorted. “So he sucks even in bed, girl, dump him!” she shouted. You had no idea that Aemond is in his room next to Helaena’s. He ignored your silly talk the whole time but he heard Baela shouting and he curiously walked out of his room and silently tiptoed to his sister’s ajar door.

“I didn’t say that he sucks, I said that he’s OK,” you tried to defend your boyfriend. “So you basically say that he is boring in sex as he is boring in everything else,” Baela smirked and folded her arms on her chest. “Is he fucking you in another position than missionary?” Baela continued firing questions at you. “Ehm... sometimes when he is tired he wants me to ride him,” you said and Hel snorted. “That lazy ass let you do all the work, how typical,” she added. “Does he at least eat your pussy well?” Baela asked and you blushed wildly. “He doesn’t do that,” you said quietly. “What?? He doesn’t eat your pussy?!!!” Baela shouted loudly and you quickly covered her mouth with your hand. “Jeez, Baela! Can you shout more loudly? I think that the old lady living across the street didn’t hear you,” you scolded her. Baela was fighting with you and Aemond smirked behind the door, this was very interesting conversation. “I am sure that a lot of guys don’t do it,” you said few moments later when you stopped wrestling with her. “Good boyfriends don’t have problem with it, Y/N,” Rhaena said softly. “Jace does it, Cregan does it, Luke does it,” she listed and you stopped her. “How do you know about Lucerys?” you asked, shocked that she knows such a information. “Don't you know? They are dating,” Baela smirked. “Isn’t Luke much younger than you?” “He turned 18 few months ago, besides there is nothing bad about younger guys, they have more energy, you should find someone younger too, Y/N, someone who will left you breathless and pleasantly tired,” Rhaena winked and Aemond's face immediately came to your mind but you quickly abandoned that thought. “OK, so three guys you know eat pussy, that’s not a proof,” you said stubbornly. “Well, we all know that Aegon does it too,” Baela said with disgusted frown, reminding you all about the time when he was caught in principal’s office with his head between principal’s daughter's thighs who laid spread on his desk. “And I am sure that Aemond is also good at this, with that sharp tongue of his,” Rhaena added and Hel covered her ears. “Ewww, stop discussing my brothers and their bed activities, I don’t want to hear this,” she shouted and Aemond was having a good time behind the doors listening to the whole conversation, suddenly he heard his mother walking up the stairs and he quickly disappeared back into his room. The girls were teasing you about Jason for another 30 minutes. After that they said that it’s up to you, but you really should reconsider your relationship with him. After that you went back to the talking about anything that came to your minds. You finished all the bottles of wine you brought and Hel convinced you to stay overnight you were slightly tipsy and this wasn’t the first time you slept here, so you agreed. Unfortunately Hel fell asleep before she had a time to prepare a bed and something to sleep in for you. You stood under the water, trying to wash away the bitter taste you had in your mouth after the chat with the girls. You hated that they were right. You probably should break up with Jason. There was no passion, no undying love. You were with him, because he treated you nicely and you felt safe with him but the girls were right, it wasn’t enough. You walked out of the shower feeling much more sober now. You realized that you don’t have any clean clothes with you. You didn’t want to go through Helaena’s wardrobe so you grabbed the folded T-shirt lying on the washing machine, it looked clean and smelled like fabric softener and something else you couldn’t identify. You pulled it over your head and hoped that whoever this T-shirt belonged to wouldn’t mind that you borrow it for the night. You tiptoed back to Helaena’s bedroom and quickly fell asleep on a sofa. You woke up 2 hours later feeling thirsty. You tried to ignore it and fall asleep again, but it was getting worse and worse. You cursed silently and rolled out of the bed and quietly opened and closed the door. Hel was a heavy sleeper, you could shot the gun next to her head and she doesn't move. But you didn’t want to wake up the rest of the house. You thought you were quiet as a mouse, but at your slightly tipsy state you were actually making a lot of noise. Alicent and Viserys had their bedroom in the other end of the house so they didn’t hear a thing, Aegon was out and Daeron was at his friend’s house. Unfortunately for you the only awake member of the Targaryen family was Aemond who was working out in their home gym under the stairs. He heard your clumsy steps and smirked for himself. He slowly walked out of the gym, dressed in grey sweatpants and tight white T-shirt, his hair in messy bun so it’s not falling into his face while exercising. He quietly walked into the kitchen, silent and elegant like a cat. He leant against the door frame, watching you trying to grab a glass from the top shelf, you stood on your tiptoes but you were still missing few inches. You were dressed only in panties and oversized T-shirt. His T-shirt. He smirked and slowly approached your cursing figure. “Why the fuck is everyone in this family so tall?” you curse-whispered and desperately tried to reach one of the glasses, when you felt a presence behind you. You wanted to turn around when you felt familiar body pressed against yours. Aemond had a strange obsession with trapping you between his built body and other surfaces. He reached for the glass, taking it with ease from the top shelve, placing it next to you on the counter. “Are you thirsty, angel?” he whispered against your ear, his breath tickling your ear, sending shiver down your spine. “No, I just decided to rearrange your kitchen in the middle of the night, asshole!” you snapped at him quietly, trying to ignore the effect he had on you. “Always so feisty,” he chuckled. “Tell me, Y/N. Is the water the only thing you are thirsty about?” he asked you mysteriously. “What the fuck are you talking about, Aemond?” you whispered, confused as hell. “I think that you are so bitchy, because you feel really unsatisfied, angel,” he said and you felt his lips making contact with your throat as he was talking while his hand played with the hem of your shirt. “What the fuck are you talking about!” you tried to move away from him but you were trapped. “I am saying that you need someone to fuck you properly, so you won’t be toxic like this to people,” he started kissing the side of your neck slowly while his hand slipped under your shirt. “I am only toxic to you, asshole!! Let me go!” you wanted to say firmly, but his lips felt amazing on your skin and your voice was shaking. “Hmmm, so you want me specifically to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to walk straight the next day,” he continued, sucking on your throat and you had to bite your tongue to keep yourself from moaning. Your neck was a really sensitive place for you. Aemond's big hand covered most of your belly and you loved that, Jason had ridiculously small hands for a man and he never gripped you as possessively as Aemond. You shivered and Aemond smirked, the tips of his fingers reached the hem of your already soaked panties. “Stop it, you can't do this!” you tried to stop him from touching you again. “Why?” he smirked and grazed your neck with his teeth, his fingers brushing against your clit lightly. “I have a boyfriend!” you breathed out, desperately fighting with your own body which wanted to succum to his touches. “That’s not my problem, angel,” he ignored your protests and circled your clit. “I heard a very interesting conversation earlier. About your boyfriend’s sex abilities,” he smirked when he heard the tiny moan escaping your lips as he pressed your clit more firmly with his long fingers. “Eavesdropping is very rude, you asshole, oh fuck," you cursed as he slipped two of his long fingers inside you. You were shamelessly wet and of course he had to comment on it. "You were saying??" he smirked "Look at you, what a filthy little angel. Your cunt is dripping for me. One touch and you are wrapped around my fingers, Y/N. Soon you will be wrapped around my cock, like the needy little slut you are," he purred against your neck and you wanted to slap him and beg him to add another finger at the same time. He kept pushing his skilled fingers inside you in slow rhythm, getting you close to your orgasm shamefully quickly. Your pussy clenched around him and seconds before you cum he stopped. You whined desperately. "So needy, so fucking wet for me, for someone who you call asshole all the time," he teased you and sucked on your neck again. "Have you ever tasted yourself, angel?" he asked casually like it was normal conversation theme while his fingers slipped back inside you and he started building your orgasm once again. You shook your head no, moaning quietly as he curved his fingers and his palm brushed against your clit. "Aemond please," you begged him, all dignity left your body, you just wanted to cum. "When you beg so nicely," he chuckled and slipped his fingers out of you again, earning a frustrated groan from you. "Open!" he ordered. "That's not what I meant," you protested when you realized that he wants you to suck your juices from his slender fingers. "I said open, Y/N!" he repeated, ignoring your complains. His fingers brushed against your lips, spreading your wetness on them, he slipped them inside when you gasped at the taste. "How does it taste, angel?" he asked you, his lust filled voice dropped an octave. You didn't respond and only hummed in appreciation. "Suck," he ordered and you obeyed immediately, sucking his fingers deeper into your mouth. "Good girl," he purred against your ear and you rocked your ass against his hard cock straining his sweatpants. "So fucking needy, grinding against me, like a horny slut. You want your cunt filled with my thick cock, don't you, angel?" he mocked you and you were too horny and dizzy to care. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, wrapping them around your throat and angling your head towards him, crashing his lips to yours. Kissing you slowly but possessively. His tongue exploring your mouth like it was a new land he wanted to conquer. The kiss was messy but full of passion. He tasted you on your lips and he needed more. He turned you around and crushed his lips to yours again. Devouring you like a starving man. You were afraid that your lips will be bruised the next day. He led you to the kitchen table and placed you on it. He spread your legs and stepped between them. His hand teased your nipples, twisting them painfully but you loved that intense feeling. You moaned into his mouth, feeling like your whole body was on fire. “Do you like to tease me, you little slut? Walking around my house dressed only in my shirt and your panties, hoping that you would run into me?” he groaned into your ear, groping your breasts over his shirt. “I didn’t know it’s yours,” you whimpered when he wrapped his hand around your neck, making you look into his intense eye. “I swear, I didn’t have anything to sleep in, so I grabbed the first piece of clothing I found,” you explained, feeling dizzy when his hand pressed against your throat. “Fine, I believe you, angel,” he kissed your lips slowly, almost lovingly, surprising you with this gentleness. He stopped kissing you and looked you in the eye, you could see something quickly changing in his blue eye, the gentleness was gone replaced with wicked glint. "Time for new life experiences, angel," he smirked and before you could process his words he was kneeling between your legs, ripping off your panties. You squealed and gasped when you felt his tongue licking your soaked pussy for the first time. "Oh my God," you rasped. "Call me Aemond," he chuckled smugly and you wanted to suffocate him with your thighs. "Lay down," he pushed you on the table and all will to protest left your body as he started eating your pussy expertly. He licked from your dripping opening to your clit, sucking that little bud into his mouth, causing a loud moan slipping from your lips. "If you don't want my whole family to find you here spread on our eating table, I suggest you to keep your voice down," he said and went back to sucking and slurping at you. You were feeling like if your soul left your body. You have never felt such an intense pleasure in your life. He was good at this, really good. He read your body like an open book. Whenever he did something you liked he remembered that and came back to it moments later. You were a drooling mess, babbling nonsense, getting closer to your orgasm with each stroke of his tongue. You lifted yourself slightly, watching him eating your cunt like it's his favorite meal. He looked up at you and smirked. You were absolutely wrecked, under his spell, willing to do anything to find your release. "Fuck, Aemond, I am gonna cum, please let me cum," you whined desperately. He slipped his fingers inside you again, his tongue circled clit before he started sucking on it again as he watched your face, his eye shining in the dim moon light. He had you where he wanted you to be. On edge, crying, begging him to let you cum. You were so close. Few swipes of his tongue and you will be cumming with his name on your lips. And at that moment he stopped. "Why did you stop?" you whined desperately, trying to chase your orgasm. But without his fingers and tongue you felt empty. He smirked darkly and leaned into your ear. "Tell your boyfriend to finish you off when you come back home to him, angel," he laughed cruelly and walked away, leaving you sitting there absolutely humiliated and horny.

Part 5

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic

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f1daydreamers · 10 months

Text

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 [𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟔

photo credits: Pinterest

Pairing: Lance Stroll × Fem!Reader

Summary: Asking the driver of the team you work for to attend a wedding with you as your fake date is possibly one of the dumbest ideas you've had ever.. but also one of the best.

Warnings: angst, lottssss of fluff cause u guys deserve some, lots of mentions of alcohol, basically a party lmao

A/N: I’ve got ideas for a mini-series with Lando and one-shots with Max but I need to finish this off before I get carried away elsewhere!! ALSO, super sorry for the late update but it’s been a hectic last few weeks with weddings (summers are BUSY) but yep, finally dialled down and ready to post!

Listen to 'Ho Hey' by The Lumineers during the dancing part, it's such a feel good song :')

Word Count: 3.4k words (12 mins reading time avg)

…

"Ow." You say monotonously as Lance rewraps the elastic bandage, then loosens it amidst your very nonchalant way of expressing agitation.

"The bruising's little better, you just gotta try and keep it straight." You nod, turning your attention to your sister who slid her chicken off of her fork by her teeth.

Lance turned to face his body forward again, tugging the sleeves of his blazer down. He watched as you directed your gaze towards your knee, carefully adjusting the bandage a couple of inches higher to prevent any itchiness.

"Can't believe you hurt it the day of the wedding." You shrug, fiddling with the hem of your dress and stretching your leg out, being careful as to not collide it with someone else's foot beneath the table.

"Just my luck," you settled on an answer and took a sip from your wine glass which desperately needed refilling if you wanted to let the thoughts of your damned knee waft out of your mind.

As if on cue, the waiter who was serving your group tonight popped open and poured a few inches of content from a fresh bottle into your glass. You refrained from asking him to hand you the entire thing. Once he'd began tending to someone else, you spared no moment in taking another sip, though this one was much longer than the previous one.

It didn't slip your notice how Lance leaned in, his words laced with a faint concern.

"You do know alcohol slows your healing down." You only give him a side eye, your lips touching the rim of the glass. Maybe you paused for a brief moment to register what he'd told you, but it didn't matter because you resumed consumption of the liquid seconds later.

He chuckled, shaking his head. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something else but his eyebrows raised in attention as his head whisked to meet your brother.

"Try some of the sushi mate," he prodded hospitably, but Lance brought a hand to his stomach, "I'm not a fan of it. I'm sure it's been well-made but I've tried it a few times in the past."

"Ah." He paused before your mum cut in, she was dabbing her napkin to either side of her lips. "Y/N, you should've told us. I would've asked for something else to be made." You really wanted to roll your eyes, she definitely wouldn't have. In fact, had she known, she probably would've asked for just seafood to be made.

"No harm done." Lance smiled, seeing the impatience with your mom already bubbling up evidently on your face. "Do you cook?" Your mother didn't stop there though as she recaptured his attention.

"I do sometimes, yes." His response took you by surprise, you'd never pegged him as the cooking type. Yet, the revelation only added to his allure in your mind.

"What, tea and toast?" She covered with a laugh though you knew it was a subtle dig, it didn't seem to occur to the man besides you as he only breathily laughed with her, assuming lightheartedness but there was nothing lighthearted about her.

"He can make plenty of things." You added, injecting a touch of seriousness into the conversation. Lance's eyes briefly flickered towards you, his eyebrows furrowing in a slight downward motion.

"Oh?" She sounded surprised, he was quick in interjecting to downplay the sudden admittance. "Y/N's hyping me up," he smiled then continued, "um no a-a couple of things sure. Just practical stuff."

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, noting his growing nervousness as he struggled to comprehend the atmosphere surrounding the conversation. You could sense the tension in the air, a feeling that lingered.

Releasing a sigh, you made a conscious effort to ease the growing awkwardness, forcing a smile as you lifted your gaze once again. "A man of many talents," you commented, aiming to lighten the mood.

Lance smiled at your compliment, remaining modest as he nodded appreciatively in your direction. It was evident that he was grateful you didn't let your mother's remarks affect your mood.

...

A few of the guests were beginning to leave the dinner table, the party now beginning to bleed on to the dance floor. You were slouched in your chair, going through your Instagram when Lance stood up.

"Where you going?" You asked him, though soon to be regretting it when his smile widened. "To dance. And you're coming with me."

Your eyes widen in horror, "I don't- no. I-" He doesn't let you finish your sentence, already tugging your hand up as you slide your phone flat on to the dinner table.

"My knee." You say in a matter-of-fact tone but you know it's not nearly as bad as it was earlier, the compression doing wonders for it.

Lance sees right through your lies because his grip on your hand doesn't loosen, "I'll be careful." You quickly join the assumption that he wanted to dance with you, not just have you up there to lessen his own embarrassment.

"I-" He tuts, "come on."

"Go have fun Y/N. It's not like this opportunity'll come 'round again." Your aunt wags her eyebrows suggestively, and Lance tilts his head towards her, wordlessly agreeing with the cheeky grin on his lips still very much prominent.

"You've definitely had more to drink than I have." He laughs, successfully helping you stand up and guiding you to the dance floor. He moved to the rhythm of the music, already grooving as he walked.

Suddenly, he tugged on your hand, causing you to turn towards him. Your eyes locked as his gaze swept over your body before returning to meet yours. With a playful smirk, he lifted your hand and drew you closer, his arm wrapping around your waist.

As the beat pulsated through the air, he began to shimmy his shoulders, a glint in his eyes. A smile adorned his lips when you instinctively started swaying your hips, matching his energy.

"I don't know where I belong, I don't know where I went wrong, but I can write a song," Lance sang along with the words, his voice as silky as butter. Oblivious to the effect he was having on you, he seamlessly continued on to the chorus, his energy contagious and captivating. You struggled to keep up with the whirlwind of feelings surging through your veins.

A genuine smile graced your lips as Lance playfully tried to engage you in the dance, guiding your arms and encouraging any movement. Laughter bubbles forth as he effortlessly twists you every which way. In the midst of the moment, the encounter with your mother fades into insignificance, and any lingering irritation dissipates.

You're overwhelmed with appreciation for the lengths your 'boyfriend' is willing to go to keep up an appearance.

Lance extends his arm, spinning you around before pulling you close, your bodies meeting. Your forearms align with his chest, and his hands firmly hold yours against his body as he continues to sing.

The lyrics escape his lips, "I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart," and in that moment, everything else fades away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance that feels like pure magic.

You're already breathing a little heavier after the song had ended, beads of sweat trickling down your forehead but the man who'd constantly been spinning and twirling you around looked effortlessly handsome still. The perks of being fit, you supposed.

"I love this song." You listened a little closer then laughed when Lance began singing again, but messed up the lyrics a little.

"It's a beautiful night, we're looking for something stu- dumb to do." The note way off-key meant you couldn't help but chuckle, finding his imperfection endearing. Your head naturally found its place nestled in the dip of his collarbone as he joined in with your laughter.

Moments later, you lifted your head, resuming the dance with him. Once the chorus had begun, he quickly found his rhythm, the music guiding his movements flawlessly.

As the DJ continued to spin songs perfectly suited for a lively and exuberant wedding reception, a few guests eventually broke off from the floor to take a break or grab another drink.

However, you and Lance showed no signs of faltering. Fuelled by the atmosphere, you both remained in sync, undeterred by the fact that it'd been a while you'd been dancing. The music seemed to invigorate you, carrying you both through the night as you danced with unwavering enthusiasm, creating sparks of energy and joy on the dance floor.

As you settle onto a stool by the bar, your now sister-in-law taps you on the shoulder, holding a drink filled with clear liquid in her hand. Leaning down to ensure you hear her, she whispers, "you guys look great together."

Despite mustering a smile, a sour feeling comes over you. On one hand, it feels amazing that you and Lance have managed to convince everyone of your relationship, but you know it's not real. Your feelings for him are genuine, but he remains your colleague and friend — nothing more.

"I don't know how much it means coming from me, but he seems like a really good guy." You look up to meet her gaze, she tugs her dress closer to her legs to sit on the stool opposite you. "Can you tell my mom that?" She smiles, remaining cautious but you understood why. That is her mother-in-law now.

"I don't get the ex thing. The way you look at Lance, I don't know, you never looked at Thomas that way." She leans in to add convincingly, she was only dating your brother during the brief time you were seeing your ex, but the fact that she sees right through you makes you wonder just how obvious your attraction really is. To Lance especially.

You smile appreciatively nevertheless, at least someone's in your corner.

When you feel a presence come up behind you, you don't hold back a grimace when Thomas steps forward. You mouth 'save yourself' to your sister-in-law who chuckles, giving you a small hug before being whisked away by your brother, her husband, as he invites her to dance.

He takes her spot on the stool and you move to get up but he grabs your arm, "five minutes." You shrug his grip off of you and sit back down, pushing your stool a little back to maintain some distance. "Two."

"You're not serious about the F1 bloke, are ya?" You sigh, wiping the tip of your nose with your thumb to catch the tiny drop of sweat.

"I don't have to explain my life choices to you but just so you know, yes, I am serious about him." You state as if it should be clear, although maybe it was. In another reality far from this one, nobody would bring their partner to a family wedding unless they were truly committed to them.

"I know he's not your boyfriend, Y/N," Tom stares at you intently as he finishes his sentence, clearly anticipating any change in your demeanor or facial expression, causing you to suppress any visible reaction. But you're quite certain that your internal organs momentarily ceased functioning.

"What're you on about?" You question him.

He scoffs, as if you're just prolonging the inevitable truth. "At best, he's a friend. There's no way that dude's your boyfriend." You want to ask him how he caught on but didn't know how to word it so you chuckle instead, albeit a little nervously.

"You're funny." You say bitterly but Tom shrugs, a smirk on his lips, oozing confidence and surety in what he was saying as if he was aware this wasn't alcohol talking but the facts he'd built up since this weekend began.

"Come on. The air mattress in your bedroom, obviously has been slept in. On top of that, I haven't even seen you kiss the guy, just hugs and hand holding. People manage that with their mates."

You're beginning to get angry and you wonder if the two minutes you'd allowed him had grown to pass, "perving on my bedroom are we?" You suggest disgustingly through gritted teeth and Tom rolls his eyes, knowing you were stalling to gather a possible answer.

"I went to the bathroom, door was wide open. It's not like you tried to hide it." The smugness in his voice made you want to slap him but out of the corner of your eye, you saw your sister-in-law tap Lance's arm and point in your direction. You hid the relief washing over you, and swallowed your words.

"I couldn't give a shit about how you feel about my relationship." The anxiousness settling into the pit of your stomach caused you to feel a little nauseous.

"Mm-hmm, 'relationship'," he says, using air quotes with his fingers as he takes his hand off of his glass, followed by a playful wink directed at you. The feeling of nausea grows stronger, but you distract yourself when Lance places his hand on the small of your back.

Without wasting another moment, Tom leaves when Lance glares at him, leaving the two of you alone. He immediately redirects his attention towards you, his gaze fixed, wordlessly asking if you're okay.

"He knows," your voice shakes as you meet his eyes.

"Who?" He asks.

"Tom. He - figured it out. He knows we're not dating, he knows about the extra mattress in my room, he knows." You find yourself repeating, your mind in a frenzy as you whisper whatever you recall of the situation to the man currently hovering over you.

Your eyes glance behind Lance's body as you watch your ex go over to Kevin, interesting him in a conversation that you have no doubt is about his recent discovery.

"He's going to tell my brother, he's going to tell everyone-" You cut yourself off when Lance pushes his hand into your back, forcing you to meet his eyes again. Though this is not the time for it, the contact causes somersaults to erupt in your body.

"No he's not. He's not going to do anything, don't let him fuck with you." He reassures you, advising you to try and forget the encounter but it's all that is playing on your mind. You can't have him unwrap this entire weekend like a present waiting to be opened and showcased to everyone.

"Come on, it's the slow dance." You huff, finding right now a pretty stupid time to join your date for a dance. He sensed your hesitation, pulling you up by the hand much like he did a while ago.

"Isn't now a good as time as ever to convince everyone we are in love?"

You think about his question for a while then realise he had a point, you nod and let him guide you back to the dance floor, in a crowd full of many other couples doing the same thing.

You interlock your fingers around his neck, his hands finding their rightful places on either sides of your waist. You both begin to sway and you can see Tom standing just off of the floor, his eyes obviously trained on you and the F1 driver.

Lance looks down into your eyes to break your concentration, there was a subtle softness in them that you knew you could only claim as your own.

"What if he does tell everyone?" You whisper to him but he only smiles, contrasting you massively. One thing that differed between you was the lack of anxiousness in him and the load of it inside of you.

"A mattress can easily be explained, and he has nothing to prove that we're not dating." You swallow, remembering the other point Tom made in the short conversation.

"H-he said we haven't-" Lance's eyebrows furrow as your speech falters so you decide to rephrase it. "We only hug and stuff, to him couples do more than that."

"And to you?" You meet his lingering gaze, "what?"

His eyes fall to overlook your expression before catching your stare again, "what do you think couples do?" You subtly shrug when Lance tugs you closer to him. "I-I don't know. Traditional couple stuff." You curve around the obvious answer and he chuckles, nodding his head.

His eyes flicker to your lips and you could swear your heart skipped a beat, or maybe multiple beats. Your heart was fluttering vigorously within your chest, its rhythmic pounding so intense that you wondered if Lance could hear it if he focused hard enough.

You gazed at him, momentarily lost in admiration without any specific thoughts occupying your mind.

He observed you attentively, analysing you with deep contemplation. There was obviously something playing about his mind, but you couldn't decipher it, he'd never been one to read easily. He tucked in his bottom lip.

No words were exchanged but your chest was conveying more than enough, just as Lance's was. His emotions seemed to be a mix of nervousness, anxiety, and perhaps even panic. He couldn't understand why, this would only be a justifiable favour.

His gaze again shifted from your eyes to your lips, and the agitation in your body reached such a level that you felt your ribs may explode from the sheer feeling pent up inside of you. Raw emotions surged, unearthing feelings that perhaps you hadn't been sure about before. They were springing to life, blooming ever so confidently.

But so were you, every new sensation coursing through your veins made you feel alive, but frightened you too. It was powerful, overwhelming and a sensation that had never quite been matched with previous boyfriends.

You noticed the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. In response, you leaned in closer. You didn't want him to retreat from this proximity, despite the anxiousness gripping you.

You couldn't help but wonder the potential consequences that could arise. Any platonic friendship you'd built up until this point would be shattered. Lance sensed your distraction and squeezed your waist in response, "how's the knee doing?"

You sigh out an unsteady breath, "g-good." Your gaze was darting between his eyes, barely formulating a clear response to his question, obviously lacking confidence. You knew the song was only a couple of moments away from ending, though there was no countdown, everything felt perfect enough for it to happen now.

Your face began to warm up, "I-I'm not the only one who's having all these feelings, am I?" You asked ambiguously, half-fearing his response.

Lance knew exactly what you meant, it seemed a little inconclusive to make assumptions on such an open-ended question but the breathless look on your face and the glint in your eyes both served as hints.

"No," the ends of his lips curve slightly into a smile, only to serve as assurance that he wasn't answering for convenience but because he was telling the truth and he too was sick of having to hide it.

Lance moved maybe a centimetre or an inch closer to you, his proximity was so close that the tip of his nose brushed against yours, causing your eyelids to flutter. His hands slid slowly from either sides of your waist to your back, interlinking.

Your lips parted instinctively, your mind becoming clouded, and any trace of logic vanishing from your thoughts.

His bottom lip skimmed over your top one and you could've sworn your body had turned into jelly, you could feel him smile faintly before his mouth closed around yours. For a moment, neither you or Lance breathed.

Perhaps to give the other ample time to process this was really happening. A blush crept on to your cheeks, his lips began to move, enticing you to join him in an illusive dance.

You released a content sigh through your nose which only offered Lance more assurance, continuing to kiss you with eagerness you didn't know he had. You toyed with a few strands on the back of his head, gently tugging at his neck to urge him closer.

He hummed in response, happily complying with your unspoken command. You pulled away to catch your breath, he allowed you to step impossibly closer to him as people began curving you to go back to their seats as the next song began.

You took the minute you had to appreciate just how good he looked, his eyes light, his lips pink, and his fair skin glowing even under the DJ's overhead spotlights.

You met his lips again, remaining there for a few seconds before he moved against them, kissing you a few times. "God, you're amazing." He whispered when you detached for the final time, blushing but making no effort to conceal it anymore.

...

Part 7

Masterlist

Two more parts to go!

Taglist: @fantasticbouquetwitchsthings @topguncultleader @spicyclover @amirahart @softiecaro @alilstressyandlotdepressy @eugene-emt-roe @e-lisa-bettan @strolleclercs @jjsprobablywrong @carmelita-holland @flowerchild-96 @rd14 @honethatty12 @gaslysainz @pierre-gasssllyy @lestappenloverr @secretlyangrymagazine @chiliwhore @mentallyunstablebish @mcmuppet @xscorpioxmoon @ferrariloverr @rivivie @starkeyellow @vanillascreams @tororossoseb-blog @hiphopdancer101universe @hc-dutch @love4lando @chonkybonky @angstyeighteen @natasharomanoffisbaebby @little-angel-07 @voidskywxlker @vildetry-06 @sharllec @aundercover @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @spicyclover @mloyer @alesainz @hockey-racing-fubol @cinnamonroll2003 @honeyric3 @nikki01234 @purplephantomwolf @mindflay3r @ttzjune @xitsyaiizax @dylylylylyly @junhuilvrrr @f1-hyperfixation

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storiesforallfandoms · 1 year

Text

we have to stop meeting like this ~ eminem

word count: 3465

request?: yes!

“hi!! love your work :) can you do a fem reader x eminem where they are both on vacation at the same resort, but don’t know each other yet. they keep running into each other throughout their vacation and he finally decides to ask her to get dinner and they hit it off and he knows immediately she’s special and he’s going to be with her for a long long time. thanks xxx”

description: he never expected to meet someone on this vacation, but things have a funny way of happening sometimes

pairing: eminem x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two, three)

Marshall was a workaholic. Everyone in his life knew that. He was always “on”, so to speak, and very rarely gave himself any actual breaks.

But after his two daughters had gotten engaged, and his youngest child had graduated from high school, Marshall realized that life was too short to be spending all of his time on work. He decided to take the time he had between albums and actually have a proper break - a vacation with his family.

He set everything up: a week long vacation in the Dominican for himself, his three children, Hailie and Alana’s fiancés, and Nate and his wife and their kids. He had even invited Kim to come along if she wanted, thinking it would be good for the kids to have both of their parents together, acting civil, during the first real family vacation they had been on in a long time, but she declined the invitation.

Marshall set up so that everyone had their own rooms, even Stevie, as he felt it would be way less awkward for the everybody than sharing one or two rooms between 10 people, especially for the three couples.

It was an unbelievably beautiful day when they arrived. Hailie and Alana were immediately enthralled by the idea of going to lay by the pool and enjoy the sun, and Nate’s kids were already energized by the idea of getting to play in the pool all day. Marshall was just excited to get into an air conditioned bedroom. From the moment they stepped off the plane he realized he made a mistake by wearing black jeans and a black hoodie, and not bringing a change of clothes in his carryon to change into when the plane landed. By the time they arrived to the resort they were staying in, he was dripping in sweat.

The feeling of the cool resort lobby was a welcoming one as he walked in to check in. There was one person by the front desk, a young man who was on the phone as Marshall arrived. At first, it seemed the young man wasn’t paying attention, so Marshall tapped on the bell on the front desk to draw the attention to him. The man’s gaze flickered over at him for a second before returning his full attention to the phone call. The action surprised Marshall, and he went to tap the bell again before a voice cut him off.

“That’s pointless. He’s not going to respond.”

Marshall looked over to see a woman stood beside the counter, leaning on her suitcase with another, smaller bag tossed by her feet.

“I’ve been waiting for 10 minutes to check in,” she continued. “He’s too deep into whatever that phone conversation is to answer.”

“There’s no one else working?” Marshall asked.

“Apparently not. I asked if anyone else could check me in, but he just ignored me.”

“Well, that’s unprofessional.” Marshall turned back to the man and said, “Listen, I have nine other people waiting to get to their rooms so they can go out and enjoy the weather. Is there anyone else who can come and check us in?”

The man held up his index finger, signaling “one moment”, before turning to the computer in front of him.

“10 people? Damn, you must’ve brought the entire family,” the woman joked.

Marshall chuckled. “I basically did. It’s me, my three kids, two of them are engaged so their fiancés are with us, and then my brother, his wife, and their kids.”

She whistled. “Wow, you really did bring the entire family. Makes me feel lonely just being here by myself.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a solo vacation. I just haven’t been able to take my family on a vacation in a while because of...work. Trying to make it up to them now.”

“Well, taking all of them to a Dominican resort would definitely be making it up to them in my books.” She moved from her suitcase to extend a hand to Marshall. “I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

“Marshall. It’s nice to meet you.”

Their introduction was cut off by the sound of a hushed argument. They both turned to see that another employee of the resort had appeared and was very clearly chastising the man at the desk in a hushed voice. Their argument was brief before the new employee angrily dismissed the man, then plastered a customer service smile on his face and turned back to (Y/N) and Marshall.

“I am so sorry for the inconvenience, you two,” he said. “Seems my colleague thought to take a phone call for a reservation over checking in guests. May I help the two of you check in?”

Marshall turned to (Y/N) and gestured for her to go first. “You were here before me.”

“Thank you.”

Marshall waited patiently while she gave him her name and information on her stay. It took this new employee - who, judging by the difference in his uniform versus the employee who had been here before, was a manager - mere seconds to find (Y/N) in their system and to give her a keycard for her room. He apologized again for the wait while (Y/N) turned to walk away.

She looked back at Marshall and waved before making her way to the elevator. Marshall watched her go until the elevator doors closed around her, cutting the two of them off finally.

“Sir?”

Marshall snapped out of his trance and approached the front desk to get check in. In the same speedy manner, the manager had found his reservation, assigned him five separate rooms, and had five cards scanned and passed to him. Marshall thanked him, waving away another apology, and went back outside to find his family.

“That took you long enough,” Hailie teased when she saw him approaching.

“Front desk issues,” Marshall said, passing them their keycards. “I figure we take it easy for this first day, but if you guys want we could check out their restaurant for dinner tonight. I caught a glance at it while I was waiting and it looks a lot fancier than some of the restaurants back home.”

Alana chuckled. “Everything here is gonna be fancier than back home, dad.”

They all agreed to the plan and went in to get changed from their flight. They were all on the same floor, but each room was separated by quite a bit. Marshall’s was at the end of the hall, luckily near the ice machine. He almost felt like taking the ice and shoving it into his hoodie and pants at this rate. Anything to get rid of the intense heat.

He quickly peeled off his sweaty clothes and tossed them to the side. The air conditioning was on full blast and he sighed with relief as he felt it against his bare skin. The room came with a mini fridge, which was already stocked with multiple beverages, including several bottles of water. Marshall grabbed one and chugged half of it almost immediately.

After cooling down enough that he thought he could handle the heat, he grabbed a pair of shorts to put on and took a towel from the bathroom to take with him by the pool. He decided not to take a shirt with him. The less clothes he could get away with, the better.

When he stepped out of his room, there was someone at the ice machine. He glanced at them for a moment, not thinking anything of it, until he did a double take and saw that it was (Y/N). She looked up from her ice bucket and smiled as recognition crossed her face.

“Hey,” she said. “I see you got checked in alright.”

“Yeah, that guy was a lot more efficient than the one before him,” Marshall said. “Are you on this floor, too?”

She shook her head. “Next floor up. This is the closest ice machine apparently. So, I gotta hope the ice doesn’t melt by the time I lug it up the stairs back to my room.”

He noticed her eyes wandering to his naked torso, his collection of tattoos on display. She tried to make it seem like she hadn’t been looking, which made Marshall smirk.

“Going down by the pool?” she asked.

“Yeah, gotta soak up as much of the sun as I can before I can’t anymore.”

She nodded. “Cool...yeah...maybe I’ll - uh - see you down there.”

“Maybe you will.”

She nodded again, almost like she was unsure of what else to say. They both awkwardly excused themselves to go their separate ways again. Marshall had to fight the urge to look back at her as he walked towards the elevator again. She had definitely been checking him out, but he couldn’t lie and say he hadn’t been checking her out, too. Actually, he had been stealing glances at her since they met in the lobby. She was absolutely gorgeous, wearing a floral sundress and a pair of light sandals, her toenail polish matching her fingernail polish.

He shook his head to snap out of his thoughts as the elevator door opened. He had only just met the woman, he couldn’t be thinking about her so intensely already. For all he knew, he would never see her again once their vacation ended. She would be another memory tied to this week in paradise he had planned.

Hailie and Alana were already by the pool when he arrived. The area around the pool was full of people, but there was enough room that it didn’t feel jam packed. Most of the other visitors were in the pool, enjoying the cool water and the drinks they had in their hands. Nathan was sat by the edge with his legs in the water as he watched his kids playing around. Marshall pulled a chair up next to Hailie and laid back.

“Where’s Ash?” he asked Nathan.

“She wanted to take a quick nap before dinner tonight,” Nathan responded. “She was up almost all night with the kids. They were too excited to sleep.”

“Why weren’t you up with them?” Alana asked, peering at her uncle over her sunglasses.

“I was for a while!” Nathan said, putting his hands up in surrender. “I just sleep more soundly than she does, so when I got to sleep their giggling and talking didn’t wake me! I told her that I would’ve stayed up with them, too, if she had woke me.”

One of the kids splashed Nathan, both of them giggling evilly as their father exclaimed in shock. Nathan pushed off the edge of the pool and got in, causing the two kids to scream and swim away from him.

“It’s so fucking hot here,” Marshall muttered.

“That’s usually the appeal of the Dominican, dad,” Hailie teased.

“I know that, smart ass,” he retorted. “I’m just making a comment. It took me forever up in my room to cool down, and now I feel like I’m fucking melting again. At this rate I might just walk around the resort naked.”

Both of his daughters made noises of protest, which Marshall smiled at.

Eventually, Stevie came down to join them by the pool as well, and Alana and Hailie’s fiancés decided to take up residence in the pool with Nathan. Marshall rested his head back against the chair, closing his eyes to block out the sun. His body felt like it was on fire again, but the lack of heavy clothing this time made it more bearable. He could get used to having constant sun like this.

It had to be a coincidence that when he opened his eyes and lifted his head again he saw (Y/N) walking at the other end of the pool. She wasn’t looking at them, she hadn’t made any sounds to draw attention to herself. He just opened his eyes and there she was. He walked her pick a vacant spot across from them to put her towel and her bag down. His eyes widened as he watched her pull her dress over her head, revealing the two piece bikini she was wearing underneath.

“Who are you staring at?” Hailie asked.

Marshall jumped. He wasn’t sure how long he had been staring at (Y/N), but it was obviously long enough for it to be noticeable. He really hoped she hadn’t seen him.

Hailie followed his eyeline and smirked when she got the answer to his question. “She’s pretty.”

“We’ve run into each other a few times already,” Marshall said, trying to cover his ass.

“I’m sure you have,” Hailie teased.

(Y/N) got into the pool and swam around in one spot for a while before she began to make her way towards where Marshall was sat. He sat up quickly, although he wasn’t sure why. It would’ve made more sense for him to stay lounged back. Now he just looked like he was very eager to see her.

Which he was, but she didn’t have to know that.

(Y/N) swam up and leaned against the edge of the pool in front of the three. “Okay, we have to stop meeting like this.”

Marshall chuckled. “I’m not saying this was planned, but I did tell you I was coming out by the pool. Seems less than coincidental this time.”

“Oh, I assure you it was definitely all an accident,” she said. “I just also happened to be coming down to the pool. Totally forgot you said you’d be here too.”

They were both smiling at one another and Marshall forgot the world around them. He even forgot his own two daughters next to him, until he heard one of them clear their throats. When he looked over, they were both watching the scene with an amused smile on their faces.

“These are my daughters, Hailie and Alana,” he said. “Girls, this is (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you,” (Y/N) said.

“You too,” Alana said.

“Hey, (Y/N), do you have any plans tonight?” Hailie asked. Marshall looked over at her in confusion.

(Y/N) shook her head. “No. Just enjoying the spot while I can.”

“Dad wanted to try the restaurant here at the resort, but we’re all pretty tired from the travel and all the sun. Maybe you two could go together.”

Marshall had to stop himself from whipping around in his chair to look at Hailie in disbelief. He tried to keep his cool, but suddenly his heart was pounding against his chest and the heat was feeling more suffocating than it had before.

(Y/N) looked up at Hailie, then to Marshall. A smile was tugging at the corners of her lips. “That sounds nice. What time should I meet you down there?”

“Uh, I guess...around 6 should be okay,” Marshall said.

(Y/N) nodded. “That sounds good to me.”

She pushed away from the edge and went back to swimming around in the pool. Hailie looked proud of herself as she laid back in her chair again, ignoring the questions and protests from her father.

But Marshall couldn’t lie, he was very excited to get some one on one time with (Y/N).

~~~~~~

The girls explained the change of plan to Nathan, their fiancés, and to Stevie, all of which seemed very okay with the idea.

“I can take Ash on a date night instead,” Nathan said. “We won’t sit anywhere near you guys though, bro, don’t worry about that.”

So, with this sudden date in place, Marshall found himself digging through his suitcase to find anything that could be considered more “formal attire”. He hadn’t planned to meet anyone on the resort this way. He didn’t think there would be anyone he would have to impress. None of the clothes he packed seemed to do the trick, but he didn’t have much time left till he was supposed to meet (Y/N). He had to pick something, so he grabbed another pair of shorts and a plain t-shirt.

(Y/N) was waiting in front of the restaurant as Marshall exited the elevator. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when he saw she was also wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top. Nothing too formal, but something good enough for a surprise date.

“Hey,” Marshall said, getting her attention.

She turned and smiled. “Hey. I see you have a shirt this time.”

Marshall chuckled. “Yeah, I’m hoping the restaurant is air conditioned. Otherwise, I might get kicked out for stripping down if I get too warm.”

(Y/N) laughed at his joke, which sounded like music to his ears.

They walked in and were promptly seated at an empty table. The place wasn’t close to being full by any means, but it was still pretty busy. Marshall figured the resort had no problems staying busy at all times of the year. It was a beautiful spot, decently affordable and, besides that one rough patch when he had come to check in, the staff were very nice. He would love to come back again. Especially if this date with (Y/N) worked out.

They engaged in the usual small talk, getting to learn more about one another now that they were actually able to have some alone time together. Marshall was open with (Y/N) about his celebrity status - which luckily had not interfered with the vacation so far. To his surprise, (Y/N) admitted she had no idea that he was famous.

“I’m not into that kind of music,” she said. “No offence or anything, it’s just not my scene. I’m very much a pop and/or rock type of person.”

Hearing her say that felt like a weight had been lifted from Marshall’s chest that he didn’t even know had been there. There was always that small worry that he was getting into a relationship with someone who saw him more as Eminem the rapper than as Marshall Mathers the person. But (Y/N) seemed genuine about now knowing who he was, which made him feel like he could really relax for the rest of the night.

The night was going by very smoothly. Marshall found himself really falling for this woman in a way he hadn’t in a very long time. He worried that maybe it was happening too fast considering the fact they had only met for the first time that day, but then again there was a chance this relationship was also fleeting.

Which was something that had to be brought up eventually, and both of them knew it.

During a lull in their conversation, (Y/N) was the one to ask first, “So...what happens at the end of the week when you go back to Detroit and I go back to my home?”

Marshall sighed. “I didn’t really want to bring it up.”

“I didn’t either,” she admitted. “I’ve been having such a good time, I don’t really want to think about that future.”

Marshall thought for a moment before saying, “Would you be willing to do long distance if we had to?”

She nodded. “Of course. I’ll give anything a try, honestly.”

“I think...I could come see you. That would be easier to do than you coming to Detroit since you have your career and everything there. I can come see you and stay with you for some time, and next time you can get a prolonged time off work you could come visit me in Detroit. But the times in between...we’re just going to have to trust that we can do long distance for as long as we need to.”

(Y/N) reached across the table to slip her hand into his. “I think we can do that.”

Marshall gave her hand a squeeze. “I don’t want this to come off as me trying to push things too quickly between us. We only met for the first time today, we’ve only gone on one date. If you don’t want things to continue past here, I totally understand and I can respect that.”

She smiled and giggled. “If this were any other scenario, I think I would be more worried about going too fast and whatnot. But right now...I don’t know. I feel different with you. From the moment I saw you in the lobby, I feel like there was a connection between us that would be a waste not to explore it. Like you said, even if this doesn’t continue past the end of both of our vacations, at least we gave it a try.”

Marshall smiled. “Yeah, that sounds good to me.”

(Y/N) picked up her glass and raised it towards him. “To giving it a try.”

He chuckled and tapped his glass against hers. “To giving it a try.”

#eminem #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #marshall mathers #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers x reader #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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goldentoshi · 1 year

Text

eight

warnings: cursing, suggestive comments

all of the bonten boys were sitting down in the dinner room after dinner and a meeting. they just got off a zoom call with their manager when sanzu opened his mouth to ask. question.

"when the fuck did you and y/n become a thing?" sanzu asked.

"a few days ago." rindou shrugged, as if it was nothing. he honestly wasn't paying attention, too focused on texting his new 'girlfriend'.

"didn't y'all like dispise each other a few weeks ago." mochi asked.

"things change." rindou chuckled, his entire focus on his phone.

favorite idiot: i changed your name in my phone just in case someone sees you texting me

rinrin <3: yours is favorite idiot and i'm not changing it

favorite idiot: ofc you wouldn't 🙄 we also should probably start texting like a couple…for the same reason..can you come to ikea with me tmmw too?

rinrin <3: does y/n want me to start calling her princess and sweetheart?

rinrin <3: sure, why not. i want a new bed anyways. what time do you want me to get you?"

favorite idiot: how about 1pm? we can get food after

rinrin <3: sounds good to me

favorite idiot: could you just not bring your motorcycle? i've never been on one before

rinrin <3: awww what're you scared?

favorite idiot: ngl, yes

rinrin <3: don't worry princess, you can hold on to me if you need to

favorite idiot: you promise?

"what has you smiling over there, loveboy?" ran asked his brother. when he didn't get a response, he calmly walked over behind him and stood, looking over his shoulder. "oooh your favorite idiot is texting you."

"fuck off ran." rindou said, shying his phone away.

"how did you get a girlfriend before us?" kokonoi asked. "especially one as fine as y/n. that girl would've got all the work."

"dude. don't talk about his girl like that." kakucho said to his friend.

"i'm just saying, y/n is probably the sexiest woman i've ever seen in my fucking life." koko shrugged. “lucky i didn’t get a hold of her. would’ve fucked fucked the life out of-“

"she got any single friends?" takeomi asked, cutting off his much vulgar housemate, “someone who isn’t in a relationship.”

"katara is sing-"

"dibs." ran said before rindou could even finish his sentence.

"what the fuck, no fair!" koko said.

"hey, dibs is dibs." mikey finally spoke before going back to his ramen.

"katara is so fine." mochi said. "two pretty best friends."

"stay off tiktok." takeomi laughed.

rindou quietly walked away as the group continued the conversation. something about koko's words made him...angry. for all everyone know, you were his. "fucking asshole." he muttered before starting grand theft auto 5 on his ps5. "hitting on my girl."

his girl? that made him freeze as the thought crossed his mind. everyone thinks that y/n was his girl. not ran's, not haru's, not even mikey's.

rinrin <3 : come see me baby. i miss you.

hopefully that didn't sound too cheesy. oh god, she's not gonna respond-

favorite idiot: okay rin. i miss you too.

꧁꧂

"you okay?" y/n asked. as soon as she had arrived to the gaming house, rindou practically dragged her to his room before shutting the door.

"yeah." rindou said before the realization of what he did hit him. he tried to hid the blush of embarrassment that grew on his face before he spoke. "i know this isn't exactly apart of our agreement but i just, i dunno, was lonely."

"ypu don't have to say that, rin. you need me , call me. kay?" you reassured him. “we’re still friends right? i mean, you can call me for anything.”

“yeah, okay.” he mumbled, a feeling he’s never felt bubbling in his chest. “sorry for scaring you.”

"it’s okay rin, i swear. wanna play minecraft?"

꧁꧂

serendipity : a very good coincidence, often leading to something really awesome.

prev | next

masterlist

#x black reader #goldentoshi #black reader anime #haitani ran x reader #haitani rindou x reader #kakucho x reader #kokonoi x reader #mikey x reader #mochi x reader #takeomi x reader #sanzu x reader #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo rev smau #tokyo revengers smau #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers imagines

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pretending-ican-write · 27 days

Text

Cowboy Up - Pt.9

This all of S1E2. Enjoy! I'll see y'all in a couple of weeks for the next part. Lemme know if you wanna be added to the tag list!

Pairing: Ryan (Yellowstone) x Dutton!reader

Previous part - Next part

---

A few days had passed since Lee’s funeral and life on the Yellowstone was starting to return to normal. Y/n was next to Rip against the fence of the round pen watching as Kayce’s horse put John into the sand.

“That is some gift,” the foreman commented.

She watched uncomfortably as the stallion careened around the pen and into the gate before successfully unseating John again.

“That’s one rank son of a bitch right there. You ought to take him chest high in the river see how much buck he’s got then,” Rip suggested.

John shook his head, “this is a job for a young man with rubber bones. That horse will make a hand out of someone.”

“Don’t recall him exploding on Kayce like that,” she commented pointedly when she pushed off the fence to collect Jimmy for his unfortunate job.

All the hands had gathered around the round pen to watch the scene that was about to unfold. On either side of y/n were Ryan and Colby who did not share her concern for Jimmy as he was duct taped to the saddle. In her head she was already planning on how to tell her brother what was going on with his ‘gift’.

“20 on the horse,” Ryan bet.

Colby added his own bet, “I got 40 on the wall.”

Y/n rolled her eyes at them and punched them both in the arm. She caught the roll of tape that John threw their way and ran it through her hands nervously.

“I’d expect some resistance,” Ryan commented sarcastically, causing his girlfriend to groan.

Jimmy looked over at them, “define resistance.”

A level of unease settled in the pit of y/n’s stomach as she watched as the stallion twisted himself in knots in an attempt to unseat Jimmy. Ryan placed a hand at the small of her back, rubbing to comfort her. She smiled gratefully at him before pulling out a cigarette to light.

“I do not miss being low man,” he joked as the horse continued to throw shapes.

John looked over at them, “low man’s what turns you into cowboys, it’ll make him one too.”

“I don’t recall you ever getting strapped to a horse tryna kill you when you was low man Ry,” y/n teased.

Colby gave her shoulder a shove, “you wouldn’t have noticed if he was ‘cause you’d have been too busy staring at his ass.”

“Shut the fuck up Colby. Dad is right there he’ll hear you,” she hissed.

After a short while, the rest of the hands returned to their jobs around the barn, leaving just John and Rip against the round pen fence. Y/n rode out past the corral with Lloyd to check on the herd, a horrible feeling in her gut about how it might end.

-/-/-

An hour or so later, y/n had returned from checking cattle to see that Jimmy was still strapped to the stallion. At least it seemed to be coming to an end as he was no longer broncing the whole way round and just cantering. After putting Comanche away, she returned to the round pen to join Ryan and Colby on the fence. Ryan adjusted himself so that his arm was behind her back which she leant into.

“Well you’re almost a winner,” Colby said, looking at how the horse was starting to flag.

Ryan watched on, “day ain’t over yet.”

Y/n looked over to where Jamie had joined her father and Rip by the fence. He was clearly in ‘lawyer mode’ and watched as they exchanged words before heading to the barn to continue their conversation.

“You gonna see what that’s about?” Her boyfriend asked.

She shook her head, “I’m not getting involved in any of that stuff.”

The boys left her alone on the fence where she watched Jimmy carefully, waiting for the horse to finally stop out of exhaustion.

Eventually, after what seemed like far too long for y/n, and several cigarettes later, the stallion finally came to a halt in the centre of the round pen. She rushed off the fence to help Rip undo the tape around the stirrups and caught Jimmy when he collapsed off the horse.

“You good?” She asked when they reached the side of the round pen.

Jimmy coughed, “I think I might be dead.”

“Welcome to cowboying,” y/n joked, “this whole fucking thing was uncalled for though. Poor horse never gave Kayce any problems on the rez.”

He looked at her confused, “Kayce?”

“My twin brother, the most outcast Dutton. He lives on the reservation with his wife and my nephew. Apparently the horse is some sort of gift but I can’t see how,” she explained.

She followed Jimmy back towards the barn, opting to take out the colt she’d been working with to see how he was coping with everything. The familiar routine of grooming and tacking the horse up helped soothe the anger under her skin.

When she passed John still stood at the round pen she spoke, “I’m taking this one out. Might miss dinner, don’t wait up for me.”

Y/n didn’t wait for her dad to respond, instead mounting up and taking off towards the mountains.

-/-/-

A few hours later, y/n had found a spot by the creek to sit and watch the sunset. The colt had responded well to the work she’d been doing with him and was currently grazing close to her. As she sat facing the mountains, listening to the creek and noises from the forest, y/n thought through the chaos of the last few weeks. She felt exhaustion deep in her bones, the loss of Lee sinking in.

Her thoughts were disrupted by the sound of a horse picking its way through the grass to her spot by the water. She looked around to see Ryan dismounting, leaving his horse to graze by the colt. They didn’t exchange any words as he sat down beside her, they’d spent long enough together that he didn’t need to ask how she was to know all that was going through her mind. Ryan slipped off his jacket and put it round her shoulder. Y/n slipped her arms into it, reveling in the warmth and smell of his cologne wrapping around her.

“Seems you’ve worked your magic on him,” he said after a little while.

She nodded, “told you he just needed to work out how to trust himself. He’ll make a good ranch horse in a few years.”

“You eaten anything since breakfast?” Ryan asked, knowing she would be avoiding the main house.

Y/n shook her head, “told dad not to wait up for me.”

He stood up, brushed the grass off his jeans and held his hand out to her expectantly. She raised her eyebrows at him curiously but took his hand anyway, allowing herself to be pulled up. They made their way to where the horses were quietly minding their own business and mounted up.

“Race you back to the barn?” Ryan challenged.

Y/n smiled, “you’re on. I’ll warn you though, this boy has got some speed in them.”

Without waiting for a countdown, she clicked the colt forward into a lope and Ryan laughed, taking off after her.

-/-/-

After having dinner in the bunkhouse, y/n was sat at the table with Lloyd playing solitaire.

“Your father not gonna question why you’re having dinner and spending your evenings with us not up at the house?” He asked.

Y/n looked up from her cards, “it was part of the deal when I moved back in that he doesn’t get to question where I spend my time. This is where my friends are. Besides, the less time I’m in the same room as my sister the better for everyone concerned.”

She was distracted from their conversation by Ryan exiting the bathroom with his towel around his waist.

“You ain’t exactly subtle there darling,” Lloyd teased her, “everyone gonna know if you keep ogling him like that.

Y/n laughed, “after 8 years being subtle about my ogling I think I’m entitled to stare at my boyfriend if I want to.”

Their game of solitaire was disrupted by Fred pulling Jimmy off his bunk and pulled his shirt down to reveal the still healing ‘Y’ on his chest. She made to interrupt the exchange but Lloyd gently pushed her back into the chair to deal with it. Ryan headed over to her, dropping into Lloyd’s empty chair and draping an arm over the back of her chair.

“I’m not a fan of you being here while Fred’s around,” he voiced, “guy’s an asshole.”

She smiled at him, “sounds very overprotective of you Ry.”

“Waited years to voice it out loud sweetheart, can’t blame me for it,” Ryan pointed out.

They sat in quiet for a little while, Ryan pointing out where a card could go every so often but otherwise just enjoying being in each other’s company. When she’d finished her game, y/n gathered her stuff and bid goodbye to the hands to return to the house for the night. Ryan grabbed his jacket to walk her back.

“I didn’t ask before but I’m gonna now,” he started, “are you okay?”

She took a deep breath, “no. I don’t know what I’m feeling but it certainly isn’t okay. It feels like everyone else has moved on from him dying already. They’re all so focused on burning the world down that it feels like they never actually stopped to mourn, y’know? For 8 years it felt like he was my only ally in that godforsaken house and now he’s just… gone. And I never got to say goodbye or tell him how much he meant to me. Now I never get to have a conversation with my big brother again.”

“Oh sweetheart,” he hugged her tightly when they stopped in front of the house, “that’s a lot going on in that head of yours.”

They parted ways and Ryan watched her close the door behind her before he headed back to the bunkhouse. Y/n headed through the house to her room, stopping in the living room when she saw the fire was still going on and John was sat with a glass of whiskey.

“Everything okay dad? I told you not to wait up for me.”

John looked over at his youngest daughter, “not exactly. It looks like we’re gonna have to cremate Lee.

“Just one question, do the ends justify the means?” She asked.

He sighed at her loaded question, “it’s to protect Kayce.”

“Whatever it takes to protect him,” y/n responded, “I don’t want to know anymore that could incriminate her. Lee would understand why especially after all these years. It’s about time you protected Kayce too. Goodnight dad.”

---

Tag list: @child-of-of-the-sunshine @kendallroydefender

#ryan yellowstone #ryan yellowstone x reader #yellowstone #yellowstone imagine #yellowstone tv #dutton ranch #dutton!reader #ian bohen

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amhrosina · 1 year

Text

Holidate (Frank Castle x fem! Reader)

MASTERLIST // TAG LIST REQUEST

A/N: Hi hi hi! Writing this was wild and took over my social life for a second there. This hasn’t been beta read, or edited yet (lmfao), but it’s 13k words and I’m very proud of it. Please enjoy! (Matt Murdock next????)

Summary: Holidate – a prearranged fake date that you can bring to family holiday events to avoid awkward conversations about your love life.

When reader realizes she’s the last single person in her family, a run-in with an old acquaintance sparks a genius idea that could get her family off her back once and for all.

(Warnings: slow burn, pining, fake dating, brief description of a severe injury (it’s in the fourth of july section), cursing, eventual smut (p in v, oral (fem receiving)), no use of y/n, wholesome family content, Frank in a bunny suit, let me know if I missed any bc it’s 1:30am and I'm tired lmfao

New Year’s Eve:

The bass of the club speakers pounded in your skull, sparking a fresh wave of annoyance within you. This was not how tonight was supposed to go. You were supposed to be somewhere nice, celebrating the new year with your loving and loyal boyfriend of four years, Ben. But Ben was an asshole who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants long enough to realize he had butt dialed you while he was knee deep in “the best pussy he’s ever had”.

You rolled your eyes at the memory. You weren’t even that upset about it – Ben had become a dull and predictable aspect of your daily routine. The spark that had ignited your affection for him had died out months before you found out he was cheating. It was a brutal wake-up call, though.

Your life, you realized, had become entirely too comfortable, which limited your ability to grow as a human being. The few weeks without Ben leading up to New Year’s Eve had taught you a lot about yourself, but you couldn’t help feeling a little lonely when you looked around and saw happy couples everywhere.

Your sister was happily married to her high school sweetheart. Your mom and dad were disgustingly in love with each other, even after almost 30 years together. And your idiot baby brother had chosen tonight at dinner to announce his engagement to Kim, his girlfriend of 3 months.

After the obligatory congratulatory toasts, your mother’s attention had fallen on you. You had tried so hard to get out of the room before she could open her mouth, but your mom had spent enough time with you to know your tricks and had managed to corner you by the bathroom.

“Sweetie, I want to introduce you to someone. My OB/GYN has a new set of interns, and one of them is very cute.”

“You’re worried about my,” you paused for effect, “vaginal health, Mom?”

“No, of course not, though you should probably get it checked out after the whole Ben fiasco. I don’t even want to think about where he put his pe-”

“Okay, thanks for that, Mom. Really. I just have to pee now.” You slid against the wall until you could grab the doorknob and slip into the bathroom, effectively shutting the door in your mom’s face. You had hidden yourself in the bathroom for 15 full minutes before finally facing your family again. Then, Sammy had the bright idea to take all the siblings out clubbing to celebrate his engagement.

That’s how you ended up here, surrounded by sweaty, drunk partygoers who apparently had so much to celebrate. It was 10 minutes to midnight, and you were doing everything in your power to make it to the exit before you had to be surrounded by sweaty, drunk, kissing partygoers.

The club was so packed you had barely made it five feet before you gave up your efforts, deciding to chug the rest of your drink when the clock struck midnight as your midnight kiss. You watched the dance floor from your vantage point on second floor balcony. An overwhelming presence next to you had your back stiffening.

You turned, ready to tell the guy off, but you lost your voice somewhere between “Fuck off, buddy” and “Not interested”. You definitely knew the guy from somewhere, but you couldn’t put your finger on where that might be. His size was intimidating, and you could tell he was absolutely ripped, but his eyes weren’t those of a drunk asshole. In fact, the look on his face told you he recognized you from somewhere, too.

“Do we know each other?” You had to yell over the music for him to hear you.

“You don’t remember me?” He was smiling, and you knew that smile, but you couldn’t put your finger on how you knew it. You studied his face, trying to remember. Dark hair and eyes, strong eyebrows, and a big nose.

“Oh!” You exclaimed suddenly, “You’re Eagle!”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“You were the TA for my Psych class, right? Like six years ago? Frank, right?” You grinned at him.

“You do remember!” He smiled wide for a second, but quickly furrowed his eyebrows in confusion again. “What did you call me? Eagle?”

“Oh god,” you groaned, running your hand over your face. “We used to call you that. The girls in the class, I mean. You know what they say about men with big noses?”

Frank let out a loud laugh, throwing his head back.

“I didn’t think anyone in those classes even knew I existed. That was the easiest job I’ve ever had. The professor wouldn’t let me do anything, and I still got paid.”

“So, I don’t have you to thank for the A, then?”

“Sorry, I guess you did that on your own.” He shrugged, sipping his drink and smiling. “Did you come with someone? Where’s your date?”

You raised your cup to your mouth, gulping down a mouthful of alcohol in response.

Frank chuckled and nodded. “Ah, I see.”

The clock began chiming, starting the 60 second countdown to the new year.

“Where’s your date?”

Frank smiled and gulped down the rest of his drink, copying the response you had given him. You raised your glass, and he clinked his against yours in solidarity.

When the countdown got to 10, you awkwardly shuffled back and forth on your feet. The couples around you were gravitating towards each other, grabbing each other’s hands and holding their drinks up in the air. You and Frank watched as the clock hit 0, silver and gold confetti floating down from the ceiling and coating the kissing couples on the dance floor.

Your brother seemingly appeared out of nowhere, tugging his fiancé behind him. “Hey! We’re going!”

You nodded, turning to Frank. “I have to...” you trailed off, pointing towards your brother with your thumb, “but it was nice to see you again. Happy New Year, Frank.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you around.” He grinned, nodding.

You waved at him as you walked towards the exit, wondering if you’d ever see him again. Fortunately for you, you didn’t have to wonder for long.

A few days later, you parked your car in the mall parking lot, sighing as your mother continued her rant from the passenger seat.

“All I’m saying, sweetie, is that you should get out more. When’s the last time you left the house besides New Year’s Eve? What about one of those dating apps?”

“I don’t want to date anyone right now, Mom. I’m trying to find myself, you know?”

She scoffed. “Oh, please.”

You followed her into the mall, clutching the items you had bought for Ben before the untimely death of your relationship. Your one and only plan for the rest of your week off work was to return the gifts, but your mother had insisted on going with you, claiming she had some shopping to do. You couldn’t imagine what she could possibly need this soon after Christmas, but you didn’t want to argue with her about it.

It took forever, but you were finally at the last store you needed to make a return at. It would’ve been an easy in and out if your mom hadn’t stopped to look at every single sweater in the store. The sound of your name being called perked you out of your thoughts.

“When I said see you around, I didn’t realize it would be this soon after.”

Frank walked towards you, clutching a return receipt in his hand. You waved your receipt back at him.

“You didn’t like a gift?” You asked, eyeing the receipt.

“Oh, uh,” Frank scratched the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly, “No. I bought it for someone, but it didn’t end up working out.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Wow. Same. I think we may have more in common than I thought. Same girl that left you alone on New Year's?”

“The one and only.” He chuckled, shuffling his feet.

The sound of your mother’s voice so close to your ear startled you. You hadn’t noticed her standing next to you.

“Who’s this?”

She had a devious smile on her face, and it took everything in you not to outwardly groan.

“This is Frank. He was my-” Frank cut you off, reaching forward to shake your mom’s hand.

“Friend in college. Nice to meet you. We were just talking about regrettable Christmas gifts.”

“Oh!” Your mom eagerly shook his hand, sending you a wink over her shoulder. “Well, I’ve been trying to tell her she needs to get out more. You know, her boyfriend ch-”

“I don’t think he’s interested in hearing about my love life, Mom.” This conversation derailed far too quickly for your liking.

“Honey, I’m just trying to help. Frank is very handsome.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You probably resembled a tomato more than a human being.

“Thank you, Mom. Very helpful.” You gritted through your teeth. Your mother was nothing if not sneaky. She sent you a smirk and turned back to Frank.

“It was lovely to meet you, Frank. I hope I’ll be getting to see more of you soon.”

You gaped at her as she made her way back towards the cashmere sweaters, dreading having to look back at Frank. When you finally faced him, he was clearly trying hard not to laugh in your face.

“I’m sorry,” You groaned, running your hand through your hair, “My mom can be very forward.”

Frank let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “It’s okay. It sounds like she just wants you to be happy.”

“She has an interesting way of showing it. I mean, being single on holidays isn’t that pathetic, right? Plenty of people are single. Like Emma Watson! She’s been single since forever and she’s thriving! Oh god, you probably don’t want to hear this either. I’m sorry. I ramble when I get nervous.”

You regretted ever getting out of bed this morning. This was turning out to be the most embarrassing day of your life, and it wasn’t even 10am yet.

Frank’s face had turned thoughtful. You were a little afraid to ask him what he was thinking about.

“I have an idea,” he finally said, glancing between you and your mom, who was holding up a blue sweater and talking to an employee.

“Okay?” You cocked your head to the side.

“What if we dated?” Your eyes grew wide, “Just for the holidays, I mean. We show up together at events or parties and it keeps the questions at bay. Like a, um-”

Frank searched for the right word, and you couldn’t help the word that came out of your mouth.

“A holidate?”

Frank snapped his fingers and pointed at you. “Exactly. A holidate. It’ll get your family off your back for a little bit, and you won’t have to worry about being single. For the day, at least.”

You didn’t say anything for a long time, trying to fully comprehend what he was offering.

“What’s in it for you?”

“Same as you.” He shrugged. “My family’s like yours.”

“And it’s just for the holidays?”

“Mhmm.”

“What about the smaller holidays? Like 4th of July.”

“I’m fine with whatever you want to do about those.”

“What if one of us meets someone we like?”

“Then our problems are solved, right?”

You studied him for a moment, weighing the idea in your head. You stole a glance at your mother, who was now standing out of Frank’s direct eyeline and smiling at you and Frank.

You turned back to Frank, holding out your hand.

“Deal.”

The smile he gave you as he shook your hand sent a shiver down your spine.

Valentine's Day:

“Frank, you are not getting my mother flowers. She’s never going to let you leave.”

“I can’t show up to dinner to officially meet your family without bringing something. My mom raised me better than that.”

You were currently standing in the flower section of Kroger, picking out flowers to get your parents for their anniversary. Every year, they hosted a family dinner on Valentine’s Day to celebrate their marriage and the family that came out of it. This was officially your first go at this holidate thing, and Frank kept insisting that he had to bring flowers.

“If you absolutely have to get flowers, don’t get red roses. My dad called dibs on those 30 years ago.”

Frank grinned at your compromise and picked up the bouquet of tulips he had been eyeing. You had to give it to your mom, Frank was handsome, but the holidate deal was strictly platonic, so you turned and headed for the checkout lane.

When Frank caught up with you, he was holding not one, but two bouquets. The tulips he had picked out for your mom were bright yellow. The other bouquet had a dozen red roses in it, and it had been carefully wrapped in expensive-looking brown paper.

“Who are those for?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Well, I can’t get my holidate’s mother flowers and not buy my holidate flowers too. That’s just unclassy.”

You followed him in stunned silence. You hadn’t been expecting that.

When you finally arrived at your parents' house, you were nervously applying and reapplying your lipstick in the passenger side mirror. You didn’t know how your family was going to react to Frank. Obviously, your mom would be pleased, but you didn’t want to sit under your sister’s scrutiny for too long. If anyone was going to figure out what you were doing, it would be her.

“You’re nervous.” Frank pointed out, watching you from the driver’s seat. “Why?”

“I’m not nervous.” You scoffed, ignoring how easily he just read your body language.

“Yes, you are, but you shouldn’t be. I’m the perfect gentleman. Parents love me. You’ll see.”

He smiled at you and jumped out of the car, running around to open your door for you.

“See? Gentleman.”

You led Frank around to the side door, hoping for a subtle entrance. This plan was almost immediately foiled when your mom busted through the door, Cheshire grin planted on her face.

“Frank! It’s so good to see you!” She brushed past your open arms, pulling Frank into a hug.

“Hello, ma’am. These are for you.” He held out the tulips, smiling.

“Oh, you.” She muttered, taking the flowers from him. She rushed through the door, calling out to your dad.

“I think it’s safe to say that I've won over your mom.” He chuckled. “You ready?” He held out his hand in question.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You sighed, intertwining your fingers in his.

Dinner was as dramatic as you expected it to be. Your dad had kept up the “tough” act for a whole 30 seconds before Frank managed to win him over. All it took was a subtle nod to your dad’s “impeccable grill set-up" for your dad to shake Frank’s hand and ask him for help grilling the steaks.

Speaking of grilling, as soon as Frank had exited the back door into your backyard, your sister immediately pulled you aside, demanding to know anything and everything about Frank. You kept your answers short but put enough detail into your responses that it seemed to win her over. Your brother had waved at Frank when you introduced him, and that was the end of that interaction. If only the rest of your family could be as relaxed as your brother was about the men in your life.

When everyone sat down for dinner, your dad gave a long-winded speech about love and had everyone toast to your mom, who never failed to cry before dinner was served every year. Frank mixed in well with your family, holding conversations on his own with everyone at some point.

The dramatics really amped up during dessert when your sister announced she was pregnant with her second baby. The room filled with gasps and excited squeals, mostly from your mom, and you watched as your mom wrapped her arms around your sister, teary eyed and smiling wide.

When everyone had finished saying their congratulations and gathered in the living room for the annual “anniversary slideshow”, you settled against the back wall, content to observe the tradition from afar. Your mom snuck up beside you, pointed look on her face.

“Don’t say it, Mom.” You mumbled, resting your head on the wall.

“I wasn’t going to say anything!” She insisted, raising her eyebrows.

“You were about to point out your lack of grandchildren from me, and I’m asking you to drop it, please.”

“Oh, fine.” She joined your dad on the couch, snuggling into his side and pressing play.

Your brother and his fiancé were also snuggling, whispering into each other’s ears and quietly giggling. It was sickeningly cute. Your brother-in-law was slowly rubbing your sister’s stomach, even though she wasn’t anywhere near showing yet. It was all annoyingly cute, and you sighed, wishing you could be anywhere else in the world.

Frank sidled up beside you, bumping your shoulder with his. He was incredibly warm, and you couldn’t help but lean a little closer to him. You told yourself it was just because your parents kept the house cooler in the winter to save money.

“What are you doing all the way over here?” He asked, lips so close to your ear that you couldn’t ignore the shiver racing down your spine.

“I’m just standing.” You responded nonchalantly, pretending to be engrossed by the pictures on the screen.

“Yes, but why are you so far away from everyone?”

You didn’t respond, finally turning your head to look at him. His face was inches away from yours. You blinked, looking between his eyes. He was fully concentrated on you, and it was making you squirm. He was an expert at focusing his attention fully on the person he was talking to. This was something you had noticed about Frank before, but it never failed to affect you.

“Do you want to go?” His voice was soft, full of concern.

“Yes.” You breathed, trying not to look at his lips.

“Okay. I’ll cause a distraction. You bolt out of the house, and I’ll meet you in the getaway car out front. But grab some of that pie on your way out.”

He was smiling, obviously just saying something to make you laugh. You tried to stop the wide grin from forming on your lips, but when he was smiling at you like this, it was impossible not to match it. He was getting too good at reading you.

“But seriously,” he started, still smiling, “I’ll say my friend accidentally cut his finger trying to seduce his Valentine’s date with a meal or something.”

Frank did exactly that, and he handled it with such grace and confidence that even you caught yourself believing him for a moment. When he closed the car door behind you and began to walk around to the other side of the car, you studied him.

There had to be something you were missing. This guy, who was seemingly full of green flags, was having the same relationship troubles as you? It didn’t make any sense. There had to be something seriously wrong with him. Otherwise, there’s no way in hell anyone would let him slip through their fingers.

When he climbed in the car, he looked at you expectantly. “Where to, Miss Daisy?”

“Want to get ice cream?” You asked, mouth watering at the thought.

“What Miss Daisy wants, Miss Daisy gets.” He chuckled at his own joke, pulling away from the curb. The silence with Frank was comfortable, and you found yourself more relaxed than you had been in months.

When you walked into the ice cream shop, you immediately regretted every decision you had ever made. You stopped mid-stride, and Frank very nearly ran into you trying to stop himself behind you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, scoping out the store. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but then again, to any normal person, it would seem like that.

But you were focused on the couple sitting in the back of the parlor, sharing a bowl of ice cream. It was Ben, and he was spoon feeding ice cream to the girl he had cheated on you with. Frank narrowed his eyes at them, trying to put the pieces together.

“I suddenly don’t have an appetite for ice cream,” you mumbled, turning back to walk out the door. Frank’s brow was furrowed, and the expression on his face read as pure confusion, but he followed you through the door without question.

You had almost made it to Frank’s car when you heard your name being shouted behind you. Ben was slightly jogging to catch up with you, and you made a show of rolling your eyes.

“Hey! Wait!” Ben called, waving his arm.

Frank’s posture stiffened beside you, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him as he lightly pulled your waist closer to his side. Another shiver slid down your spine. You were going to have to get rid of that side effect as soon as possible.

“Hey, I just saw you leave the shop. I wanted to see how you were doing after, you know.” Ben was slightly panting. He eyed Frank’s hold on your waist, standing a little taller than before.

“I’m fine, Ben. Thanks. Bye.” You responded, looking anywhere but his face. You were not going to cry in front of Frank, and you certainly wouldn’t be giving Ben the satisfaction of an emotional breakdown at his expense.

“Who’s this?” he asked, finally acknowledging Frank.

“Frank, this is my loser ex-boyfriend. Loser ex-boyfriend, this is Frank. Are we good? Can we go now?” You asked, losing your patience.

Frank stiffened, a signal that told you he had caught on to the situation. His hand crept across your waist and settled on your stomach, pulling you fully against his front. His movement was slow, barely noticeable to anyone else, but the trail Frank’s hand left behind would be burned into your memory forever.

Ben looked between your face and Frank’s, scoffing.

“Oh, I see. He’s the rebound.” Ben nodded to himself.

Anger coated your tongue. You opened your mouth, ready to scream, when Frank’s voice cut you off.

“Buddy, why don’t you fuck off, okay? She’s clearly not interested in having this conversation with you.”

“Okay, buddy.” Ben responded, putting his hands on his hips. “I don’t think this is any of your business.”

“You made it my business when you upset her.” Frank’s deep voice reverberated through your chest. “We’re going.” He opened the car door, guiding you into the seat with a gentle push from the hand on your waist.

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You eagerly climbed in, squeezing the seatbelt as you buckled it. Frank joined you seconds later, starting the car and carefully pulling out of the spot. Your eyes didn’t leave your lap until the car was safely on the road again.

“Are you okay? God, that guy’s such an asshole. Sorry about the ice cream.” Frank gripped the steering wheel with one hand, resting his other arm on the windowsill and running his hand through his hair.

“I’m fine.” Your voice was meek compared to Frank’s deep one.

“You’re not, but that’s okay. You’re allowed to be upset.”

You stayed silent, counting the streetlights as you drove past them. Frank didn’t pry. He put the radio on a low volume and quietly hummed along to the Sum-41 song playing. After a while, he turned into a gas station parking lot, pulling into one of the spots in front of the store. You looked around, confused.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back. Lock the door.” He moved to get out of the car, but stopped when you made a noise of discontent, raising your hands in the air in question.

“Wait! What are you doing?” You asked, exasperated.

“I promised you ice cream, didn’t I?” He smiled, climbing out of the car. Your fingers fell along the arm rest, pressing the lock button. You couldn’t help the smile that crossed your face as you watched him walk away from the car.

Easter:

Easter was a holiday that you hadn’t celebrated until you were a few years into your adulthood. Your parents didn’t press religion onto you or your siblings when you were growing up, but your sister had married into a somewhat religious family, so the annual Easter egg hunt they hosted had become a regular part of your Easter plans.

When you called him, Frank had insisted that his family could spend the day without him. You hadn’t spoken to him much since Valentine’s Day, but you smiled when he immediately said he’d be there, holidate ready.

He showed up, sporting a button-down shirt and slacks. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and he had let his hair grow out a little. You tried not to stare as he opened the car door for you, ever the gentleman.

“Have you been okay?” he asked, lightly tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the song playing on the radio.

“Actually, yes.” For the first time in months, you didn’t have to lie when someone asked you that question. Ben was a memory you had all but forgotten about.

“That’s great. I'm glad you called. My family was trying to force me into dressing up like the Easter Bunny for my nieces and nephews.” He shuddered at the thought.

Your head whipped around. “You have siblings?” you asked, genuinely surprised. He had never mentioned them before.

“I have a brother and a sister, like you. They both have a million kids. I love them, but they couldn’t pay me enough to dress up in a giant, fuzzy bunny costume.”

You threw your head back against the headrest, laughing loudly.

“You never told me that!”

“You never asked.” He responded, raising an eyebrow at you and smiling.

“Hmmm. Let’s change that.”

You spent the drive asking him every question you could think of. His favorite color was purple, even though he didn’t own anything that even remotely resembled the color. He didn’t have a favorite tv-show because he didn’t ever turn the tv on in his apartment. He loves dogs, but never adopted any because he thinks they should have a big backyard to run around in. He has a perfect attendance record at work because he never gets sick.

When you pulled up in front of your sister’s house, you still had a million questions for him, but your mom’s waving hand at the front door forced you out of the car. Frank grabbed onto your hand as you walked up the driveway and squeezed it. You tried not to blush. Why did he have to be so God damned dreamy?

He pulled his hand away to give your mom a hello hug. She winked at you over his shoulder, and your eyes stung at the thought of the holidate deal coming to an end. She was going to be heartbroken. She really liked Frank. You and Frank hadn’t discussed how long you’d be each other’s holidates, but you knew he would eventually meet someone else and have to put an end to your deal.

“Frank, I’m so glad you’re here. Uncle Steve was supposed to be the bunny, but he fell off his motorcycle last night and can’t walk without crutches. What a shame. But we really need an Easter Bunny.” She shook her head sadly, clasping her hands together.

The cackle that came out of you was obnoxious, but you didn’t care. This was the best thing that could’ve possibly happened. Frank looked back at you, eyebrows raised.

“You didn’t mention that your family also did the ‘dress up like the Easter Bunny’ thing.” He muttered, expectant look in his eyes.

“You never asked.” You responded, wiping the tears gathering under your eyes. Another fit of giggles had you gasping for air. You clutched your stomach, taking deep breaths, and then immediately busted out laughing again when your mom appeared with the bunny head in her hands.

You spent the afternoon laughing every time Frank walked by you in the costume. He looked so defeated, but he was putting on a good show for the kids, who loved him. When it was time for dinner, Frank fell into his seat next to you. He looked exhausted, but the grin he sent you was to die for.

“You could’ve told her no, you know?” You said, patting his hand.

“I know, but it made you smile, so I didn’t want to.”

Frank said this nonchalantly, but you felt his words in your gut. The chime of a knife on a wine glass stole your chance to respond. Frank lightly ran his fingers along your hand, and you spent the entire speech and prayer focused solely on the feeling of his skin against yours. If someone asked you about the speech, you’d be at a loss for words. You didn’t hear a word of it.

After dinner, you had drunk so much wine that you excused yourself to the bathroom. Your sister busted through the door approximately 30 seconds after you had entered the bathroom, slamming it shut behind her.

“Okay, it’s not like I’m in the middle of peeing or anything.”

“Oh, shush. I need to talk to you.” Her hand subconsciously rested on her stomach. She was showing a little bit, and her lilac dress showed off her baby bump perfectly.

“What is so important that you couldn’t wait for me to finish peeing?”

She smirked, leaning against the door. “It looks like it’s going good with Frank.”

“Oh my god. This could definitely wait until I was done.”

“We’ve all noticed it. I mean, come on. The bunny suit? He did that for you, not the kids.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, trying your best to nod enthusiastically.

Your sister’s face fell. “What? Is he not good in bed or something?”

“What? No! I mean, I don’t know. We haven’t-”

“Oh, is he one of those wait til marriage kind of people?”

“No! Well, I don’t know.” You threw your hands up in exasperation. You couldn’t imagine Frank being bad in bed, but that was something you had been strictly not thinking about.

“What are you hiding?” She asked, eyeing you. You should’ve known she would see through this eventually. You rested your elbows on your knees, dropping your face into your hands.

“It’s not...real.” You finally mumbled. “We’re just faking it on the holidays for our families. A holidate, ya know?”

“A holidate.” She repeated, voice full of confusion.

“A holidate.” You sat back, looking up at her.

“But he doesn’t look at you like it’s fake.” She shook her head, crossing her arms.

“That’s the point. It’s an act. You can’t tell anyone, especially Mom.” You pleaded with her.

“This could end very poorly.” She said after a pause, concern lacing her words.

“I know.” You nodded slowly, then sent her a playful glare. “Can I wipe, now? In private?”

Your sister left, quietly shutting the door behind her. You stood in the bathroom for an extra few minutes, contemplating the decisions that led you to this point. When you finally rejoined Frank at the table, he was engrossed in a conversation with your dad. He didn’t look at you, but he grabbed your hand, pulling it into his lap. Your sister sent you a pointed look, which you promptly ignored. The pattern Frank drew into your skin burned so hotly that it felt like a brand.

4th of July:

The 4th of July was always a huge affair for your family. Your parents rented a cabin on the lake and invited everyone and their grandmother to spend the weekend there, and this year, you were being upgraded to your own bedroom, courtesy of Frank’s presence. In the years you were with Ben, he had never joined you for the 4th of July celebration, so you had always been stuffed into a room with someone else. But not this year.

When you called Frank, it was the first time you’d actually spoken in over a month. The few text check-ins barely counted as a conversation, and they were usually brief. You had nervously paced around the room as you listened to the ringing on the other line, hoping it’d go to voicemail. It was a big step, even if it was technically fake. Not only would Frank be spending the night with you, but he’d also be sharing a bed with you, which was a terrifying thought.

Frank picked up, panting into the phone. His grunts were downright sinful, and you momentarily forgot what you were calling him about.

“Am I interrupting something?” You asked, mind immediately jumping to the worst conclusion.

“I’m at the gym, but I didn’t want to miss your call. What’s up, buttercup?”

You explained the situation, pacing back and forth around your kitchen when you got to the ‘one bed’ part.

“Of course, I’ll come. I wouldn’t miss it. Do you want me to stay somewhere else?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I can tell you’re walking a hole into your floor right now. We don’t have to share a bed if you don’t want to. I can stay at a hotel or something.”

“No! I mean-” you paused, closing your eyes, “I just meant that if you would be uncomfortable, you don’t have to come. I didn’t want to pressure you into anything. I don’t mind sharing a bed if you don’t”

You bit your lip, waiting for his response.

“Cool. I’ll drive. What time are we leaving?”

And that was that. Frank picked you up in his car, so giddy about the trip that he was practically bouncing up and down. The drive there wasn’t too long, but you spent the time catching up with Frank. Besides the occasional text, you really didn’t talk to him often when it wasn’t a holiday. After the conversation with your sister on Easter, you had set boundaries with yourself. You only let yourself think about him some of the time, and you certainly didn’t reach out to him. It was better if you distanced yourself from him on the regular days of the year.

Frank insisted on unloading the car himself and wouldn’t let you lift a finger to help. He even carried your purse in for you. Your mom hugged him so tightly you winced out of sympathy for the poor man. Frank was a big man, but your mom could summon the strength of three grizzly bears when she wanted to.

Frank said his hellos, shaking your dad’s hand and asking your sister about her pregnancy. Being only 2 months away from her due date, she was fully showing now. When you finally made it to the room you were sharing with Frank, you were so nervous you started to gnaw on the inside of your cheek.

The bed was big, but so was Frank. He’d take up at least two-thirds of the space. You didn’t let yourself think about tonight, or the rest of the weekend. That was a problem for future you. Your brother bolted past the doorway, stopping only to invite you both to swim in the lake before he took off again. He was only a couple years younger than you, but he had the energy of a 12-year-old boy.

“Do you want to go?” Frank asked, flopping onto the bed. He propped his head on his hands, which were stretched behind him. His shirt had risen up, giving you a full view of his happy trail. Your mouth dried at the sight.

“Oh, sure.” You finally responded, shaking the thoughts from your head. “Do you?”

“Whatever you want to do is fine with me. Your mom’s not going to make me dress up like a giant firework, is she?”

You stifled a laugh, reaching for your swimsuit. “I don’t think so, but you never know with her.”

Frank closed his eyes, settling into the mattress.

“You can change. I won’t peek. Holidate’s honor.”

The idea of being bare in front of Frank was not something you had prepared yourself for, and you could feel yourself begin to sweat. You slowly closed the door, which increased the heat in the room to suffocating levels.

You studied Frank, whose eyes remained closed. He looked peaceful in this position, unbothered by the trials and tribulations of life. You slowly unbuttoned your shorts, pushing them down your legs. Your gaze remained on Frank, blissfully unaware of what he was doing to you. Heat pounded between your thighs, and you couldn’t help the image that popped into your head of Frank’s head dipped between. You bit your lip, watching as Frank shifted his hips on the bed and cleared his throat.

The sound of your brother’s footsteps stomping past the closed door startled you out of your thoughts. A cold wave washed over you, chilling you to your bones. You hurried to put the rest of your swimsuit on, almost falling over in the process.

You stepped out of the room, taking a deep breath. This weekend was going to be rough, and you had only been there for 15 minutes. When Frank joined you outside, you had to look away in order not to groan. Frank was unreasonably fit, muscles bulging in places you didn’t even know muscles existed. You focused on rubbing sunscreen into your skin, looking everywhere but at Frank.

He stopped behind you, grabbing the bottle of sunscreen off the table. You froze when you felt his hands gathering your hair, moving it in front of your shoulders. He squirted sunscreen on his hands and began lathering it across your back and shoulders. You watched the group of people gathered around the lake, taking turns swinging into the water off a rope. The only thing that stopped you from turning around and slamming your lips against Frank’s was the horrible awkwardness that would settle between you for the entire weekend if Frank rebuffed your advances.

His hands worked their way down your back, stopping millimeters above the waistline of your bikini.

“All done.” His voice was husky in your ear. You slowly turned around, looking up at Frank. He brought his hand up to your shoulder, rolling the strap of your bikini between his fingers.

“Purple.” He observed. “I like this color.”

He stepped around you, taking your hand in his and tugging your arm. You tried not to stare at his ass as he led you down to the lake.

Later, after hours of swimming and eating the burgers your dad had grilled for everyone, you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Even though the lake water had been freezing, and you had spent most of dinner leaning into Frank’s natural body heat, you had taken an ice cold shower. Frank was in the room, already showered and probably in bed. You prayed that he would be asleep when you finally got the courage to enter the room.

You took a breath, stepping out of the bathroom and making your way down the hall. When you stepped into the dark room, Frank was lying flat on his back in bed, scrolling through his phone.

You crawled into the bed, doing your best to avoid touching Frank. Frank was broad, though, and your shoulder ended up touching his no matter what position you laid in.

“Jesus,” he mumbled, turning on his side and facing you, “you’re freezing.”

You cleared your throat. “I’m fine.”

He gave you a flat stare, pressing his shoulder into yours. You pushed back, settling against him. Your body seemed to have a mind of its own. Frank was warm, and you really were freezing after your cold shower, so you relaxed into the touch, shutting your eyes. The back of Frank’s hand brushed yours as you fell into a deep sleep next to him.

The next evening, you watched as Frank and your dad set up the firework area that everyone would be gathering around soon. Your sister lounged in the chair next to you, fanning herself.

“Why don’t you just date instead of faking it? You act like a couple already.”

“Because that wasn’t the deal, and who says he even sees me like that?”

“Do you see him like that?”

“I don’t know. No.” You shook your head. “It’s not like that.”

“That suggestive sunscreen job I witnessed yesterday says differently.”

You didn’t want to argue with her, so you remained quiet, watching Frank’s back muscles flex as he lifted a piece of wood and chunked it to the side. When he made his way back to you, he was coated in sweat, which somehow made him even better to look at. He smiled at you, stopping to press a kiss on the top of your head. Your sister shot you a look when he continued walking towards the cabin.

When it was finally dark enough to shoot off fireworks, your dad counted down, setting off a huge firework when he got to zero. The night took a turn for the worse shortly after that.

It had started with your brother jokingly shooting a firework near you that landed a little too close for comfort. Frank had a competitive side apparently, thus began an outright firework war that ended faster than it began. You ran for the cabin, stopping when you heard the unmistakable sound of Frank grunting in pain.

He had fallen to the ground, clutching his hand to his chest. You turned on your heels, bolting to Frank and falling to your knees in front of him. His finger was missing, and you did your very best not to puke all over your severely injured holidate.

“Oh my god. Oh my GOD. Frank!” You faintly heard the sound of someone calling an ambulance behind you. You clutched the sides of his face, trying to figure out what to do. Your brother was searching the ground around you, and you balked in horror when you realized he was looking for Frank’s finger.

“Is it bad?” Frank asked, grunting when he tried to lift his hand.

“Is it bad?” You repeated, incredulously, “Yes, it’s bad. Where the fuck is your finger, Frank?”

He barked out a laugh, and then groaned at the movement.

“You’re the only person who’d get mad at someone with a missing finger.”

“This is totally karma getting us back for lying to my parents on Valentine’s Day!”

The ambulance arrived shortly after that, and you jumped into the back with Frank before the paramedics could tell you any differently. You spent hours in the waiting room as Frank had his finger surgically attached, drinking shitty coffee and flipping through the months-old magazines on the table. When the doctor finally told you he was ready to be seen, you had to stop yourself from running down the hall towards him.

He was in a recovery room, lying on the bed in a hospital gown.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, plopping down on the chair next to the bed. The hand that had lost the finger was wrapped in pounds of gauze, propped up on a pillow.

“Like shit.” He grumbled, taking your hand in his uninjured one. “I totally ruined your family’s holiday.”

“Frank, my brother is the one that shot your finger off. You didn’t ruin anything. I’ve gotten about 75,000 texts asking for updates on you since we got here. They’re not worried about the holiday, they’re worried about you. ”

“This is the worst holidate ever.” He moaned, exaggerating his eye roll.

You giggled, resting your chin on your free hand.

“At least you still have all your extremities.”

He chuckled, looking at his injured hand.

“Thanks for staying.” He squeezed your hand as he said it, looking over at you.

“Holidates don’t leave holidates behind.”

Halloween:

Halloween was something you hadn’t officially celebrated in years, but your brother was finally getting hitched, and you were actually pretty excited about it. Frank was coming as your plus-one and holidate, even though technically the event wasn’t holiday related. It was the same weekend as Halloween, so Frank had insisted on joining you. He had even gone as far as pointing out that it would be strange for you to show up to the wedding alone, considering how long he’d been attending family events with you.

Your mother had done all of the hotel booking, so you and Frank were sharing room again, but you weren’t as nervous this time around about that. The weeks after the finger incident had changed something between you and Frank. At first, you basically lived on his couch, waking him up throughout the night to give him the medicine his doctor had prescribed him. You had to help him button his shirts for work, a task you still thought about daily, and stocked his fridge with meals that he wouldn't have to fuss over with his injured hand.

It was now a fairly regular occurrence to hear from Frank throughout the day. A random text every few hours, or a phone call during his lunch break was something you’d grown used to in your daily routine. You still didn’t know what you were doing. The idea of actually dating someone was terrifying, but you couldn’t decide if it was worse than the idea of not seeing Frank.

Frank’s voice coaxed you out of your deep thoughts.

“I can’t get this bowtie to sit right.” Frank called from the bathroom.

You moved towards his voice, clutching the front of your dress.

“Zip me, please.” You mumbled, turning your back to him. He obliged, running his cool knuckles up your spine as he zipped the dress up. You focused on the bowtie, undoing the ridiculous knot he had wound into it while trying to fix it.

“You look great. Beautiful.” He sighed, looking you over.

You smiled. “You’re only saying that because the dress I’m wearing is purple.” You didn’t mention that you had picked this dress out specifically because of the color.

“I can like the color and also like you in the color. They don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

You retied the bowtie, patting his chest when you finished. “You look good, too.”

“You’re making me blush.” He chuckled, leading you out the door.

Your sister met you in the lobby, holding the newest addition to the family in her arms. She had gone into labor in the middle of September, bringing your nephew into the world a short 6 hours later. Frank’s first interaction with him had been so annoyingly adorable that your mother didn’t stop sending you meaningful looks for hours afterwards.

The ceremony was short, but as weird as you expected it to be. Anything your brother was involved in guaranteed a strange experience, but Frank didn’t seem to mind. He spent the ceremony clutching your hand between his and toying with the fabric of your dress.

The reception is when it got really interesting. You finally escaped the dance floor, where your dad was thoroughly drunk and had been whipping you around in circles for what felt like hours. You stepped off the raised floor, heading directly for Frank, who had been watching you dance with a bemused expression on his face.

“That looked fun.” He observed, passing you the glass of water on the table.

You gulped it down, all too aware of Frank’s heated gaze. You could always tell when he was looking at you. A fiery shock would slide down your spine and settle deep in your bones when his eyes were on you. You never got used to it, but tonight you decided to welcome the feeling.

Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe you were just tired of sitting on the relationship fence with Frank, but you leaned over him, giving him an unrestricted view down your dress as you set the empty glass down on the table. He remained unfazed, glancing over your shoulder at the dance floor.

You tried not to look disappointed. You had spent so much time with him that maybe you had created a false narrative about him. It had been 10 months since you’d reconnected, and he’d only ever been affectionate with you when you were in front of your family. Which, you reminded yourself, was the deal.

You shook your head, ridding the thoughts from your head. You held out your hand in question, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Dance with me.”

A goofy smile spread across his face. “It'd be an honor, ma’am.”

You led him across the dance floor, swaying to the music that had changed from fast paced to slow and romantic. Your steps were clumsy and awkward, but that didn’t deter Frank.

“Let me lead.” He mumbled, looking down at your feet.

“I can’t not lead. I always lead.” You respond, trying and failing to relinquish your control.

“Let me lead.” He repeated, squeezing your waist. “Relax.”

You took a deep breath, following his steps as best you could. It was rather nice, dancing with a man that you could trust to guide you around the dance floor. With Ben, you’d always had to lead. He was a terrible dancer. Frank, though, was a natural.

He effortlessly led you around the floor, pulling you closer every time he spun you around. Your chest was fully pressed against his, and he smiled as he rested his forehead against yours. You couldn’t hide the ridiculous smile that mirrored his. On any other occasion, you would pull away and stick to the holidate rules, but tonight didn’t feel like a holidate date, so you stayed exactly where you were, cheesing so hard your cheeks were beginning to hurt.

His eyes darted down to your lips, and then quickly returned to your eyes. You couldn’t help it. You leaned in, just barely grazing his lips with your own. It didn’t qualify as a kiss. It barely qualified as anything, but the expression on Frank’s face had you reeling back. You couldn’t tell if he was upset, confused, or mad, but you opened your mouth to apologize anyways.

“I’m-”

The feedback from the microphone cut you off. Frank’s grip on your waist tightened as you whirled around, looking toward the stage. It was time for the ‘father of the bride’ speech, and you couldn’t believe how unlucky the timing was.

You didn’t look at Frank as you made your way back to your family’s table. Instead, you grabbed your nephew out of your sister’s hands, rocking him in your arms as the speech began. You didn’t need to look up to know Frank was staring at you. He hadn’t stopped since you’d barely kissed him moments before. Heat traveled up your neck and across your cheeks. You felt like crying, but you didn’t know why. Did you just ruin possibly the best friendship you’d ever had by misreading the situation?

The speech finished, and you went to hand your nephew back to your sister, when the worst possible thing that could’ve happened, happened. Your nephew, cute and as bubbly as could be, decided he wanted to projectile vomit all over your chest. You didn’t move for several moments, trying to comprehend everything that led to this moment.

Your sister wouldn’t stop apologizing as she took the baby from you. The anxious ringing in your ears was back, and you couldn’t breathe. Tonight was going so poorly, and you were so overwhelmed with Frank that frustrated and embarrassed tears began pouring down your cheeks. You could feel Frank’s hand wrap around your wrist as you turned towards the exit, but you shrugged him off, moving out of the reception hall and towards the elevators in the lobby of the hotel.

You knew you’d have to face him eventually, but all you could think about was getting out of there, away from his overpowering presence. When you finally got to your room, you couldn’t stop the overflow of tears. Your dress was ruined, probably cursed to smell like baby puke forever, and your makeup was so smeared it would have to be completely redone if you wanted to return to the reception.

You decided you had had enough of dancing. You stripped your dress off, stepping into the boiling hot shower. You wiped your face, staining the white washcloth black. Your fists squeezed into tight balls as the bathroom door opened and shut.

“Are you okay?”

Frank’s voice was soft, and tears welled up in your eyes again at the sound of it. He was always so nice.

“Why do I feel like you’re always asking me that?” You finally responded, resting your head against the cool tile of the shower wall.

“You’ve had an off year. We all have ‘em. Are you okay, though?”

The sympathy in his voice caused even more tears to fall down your face. You couldn’t even figure out why you were crying anymore.

“I’m...I don’t know.” You mumbled, wiping your cheeks. “I don’t know. Is that okay?”

“Of course. But you’re allowed to not be okay. I’m here for you either way.”

You groaned, closing your eyes. “Happy fuckin’ Halloween.” You mumbled.

You turned the shower off, drying yourself off with the towel hanging on the wall of the shower opposite the shower head. You opened the curtain, clutching the towel to your chest. Frank was sitting on the toilet lid, leaning against the back of the toilet, looking directly at you. His gaze was hard to read.

“We don’t have to go back, do we?” You asked, stepping out of the shower.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” He stood, moving to lean against the counter next to you.

You gazed at your reflection. A few tear paths, stained with mascara, were scattered across your cheeks. You rubbed them with the palm of your hand, trying to wipe away any of the remnants of tonight.

“Beautiful.” Frank mumbled, looking at you through the reflection of the mirror.

“What?” You asked, meeting his gaze.

“You’re beautiful, even when your makeup is all over the place.”

“Oh.” You breathed, turning away from the mirror to face him.

He took a step forward, towering over you. His hand cupped your cheek, and he swiftly leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. The spark was electric, snapping the restraint in both of you. You pressed against him, opening your mouth for him to explore. He groaned, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You didn’t let yourself think of the consequences as you dropped your towel, fully bare before him. He pulled away, looking your body up and down, before reconnecting his mouth with yours. You pulled on his bowtie, undoing the knot you had tied so many hours earlier. The buttons on his shirt slid apart easily, and suddenly Frank was tugging his shirt off, dropping it to the floor behind him. He cupped the back of your knees, hoisting you into the air as you gripped his back and wrapped your legs around his waist.

He carried you into the bedroom, grunting as he fell on top of you on the soft mattress. His tongue made its way down your neck and onto your chest. He licked a path down your sternum and onto your stomach, planting kisses along the way. His path downward stopped suddenly as he lightly kissed and sucked on your hip, leaving what was sure to be a mark the next day.

He lifted your legs, resting them on his shoulders. He looked up, lustful and heated in his gaze.

“Can I?” He asked, squeezing your thighs.

“Oh, please.” You responded, spreading your legs wider for him.

He dove in, tongue lapping at your cunt. The moan you let out would surely wake whatever unlucky neighbors you had on either side of your room. You arched your back, giving him more access. His tongue made slow circles up your slit, settling just below your clit. He left kitten licks all around it, grinning every time you moaned. You scoffed when you realized what he was doing. He was teasing you.

You let out a frustrated whine, arching your back further.

“You need somethin’, darlin’?” He asked, punch drunk on your pussy.

“I need you, Frank.” You whined, looking down at him.

His gaze darkened, and you were almost afraid of what would come next. He finally, finally, circled your clit with his tongue. You saw stars, letting out the most uncouth moan you’d ever heard yourself make. He flattened his tongue, licking from your clit to your cunt and back again. Your legs began to shake, and he tightened his grip on your thighs.

He drew figure eights with his tongue, sucking and licking you until you were so close you thought you might explode. He ate pussy like a man starved, and when your orgasm finally crashed over you, white-hot and all encompassing, you thought you might never reach that level of euphoria again.

He rested his head on your thigh, grinning as he watched you come down from what was probably the best orgasm you’d ever have in your lifetime. Your heart was racing, and you let out several unsteady breaths. Your entire body was numb, and you couldn’t feel anything but bliss inside of you. Frank had wrecked you with his tongue, and all you could think about was doing it again.

He crawled up your body, hovering over you. He ran his hands through your hair a few times before settling his gaze on yours.

“Let's do that again.” You sighed, skin buzzing where he touched you.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss onto the bridge of your nose. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. He was still wearing his dress pants, and you wiggled with discontent.

“You’re too clothed, sir.” You said, grinning.

“Yeah?” He asked, sitting back on his heels.

“Yes.” You replied, watching as he slowly removed his belt. The sight of him kneeling over you, removing his clothes, was drool worthy. You had to remind yourself to close your mouth as he got off the bed and dropped his pants to the floor.

The front of his briefs were stained with wetness, precum soaking through the fabric. Your mouth watered and you swallowed thickly as he stroked his hard cock, stepping out of his pants and underwear. Frank naked was a sight to behold. His cock was veiny and long, and your legs widened out of sheer shock.

He smirked, pumping his cock again. You bit your lip to hide the moan crawling up your throat. He leaned over, pulling a condom out of his wallet.

“Do you always keep condoms in your wallet when you’re a plus one to a wedding?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“Only when my dates are incredibly sexy and wear my favorite color.”

“Oh, so this happens often?” You tried to sound seductive instead of insecure, which is the feeling that began bubbling in your chest.

“No. Not until tonight.” He shook his head, eyes following the curve of your hips and settling between your thighs. He slid the condom on and crawled over you again.

Relief washed over you, and you spread your legs wider, inviting him to use you as he pleased. Your groans filled the room as he pushed into you, inch by inch until he was fully inside of you. It stung a little, considering how long it had been since you’d had sex with anyone, but he didn’t move, cradling your face and waiting for you to give him a signal that he could positively fuck you into the mattress.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling his mouth to yours. His thrusts started slow, but the heat in your kiss sent another shock to both of your systems, and soon he was pounding into you. Skin met skin in a sinful, symphonic rhythm that overtook the room. He grunted into your ear when you lifted your hips, allowing him to push deeper into you.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him with every deep thrust. Your heart pounded as he thrusted into you, over and over, pushing you closer to the edge. Your moans got louder, and that seemed to motivate him into fucking you harder into the mattress underneath you. He dipped his head into your neck, sucking the sensitive skin and leaving small marks in his wake. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears of pleasure rolling down the sides of your face. You’d never been fucked this good before, and the only logical reaction your body could think of was to cry.

He kissed the tears, smiling as you clenched around him. He reached down, settling his finger on your sensitive clit. It took about 3 seconds before your body couldn’t handle the overwhelming pleasure washing over you. You moaned loudly, orgasm shattering through you. He groaned, squeezing you tighter against him. You both met your highs, hearts pounding wildly in your chests as you came.

His thrusts slowed, until he finally stopped, breathing hard over you. Your body was so blissed out that it took you several minutes before you could open your eyes. Frank kissed your nose again, pulling out of you. You both groaned with oversensitivity.

He disposed of the condom, falling onto the bed next to you.

“Are you okay?” He asked, still breathing heavier than normal.

You could barely hear him. The pounding in your chest had moved to your ears.

“Mhmm.” You sighed, snuggling into the comforter under your head. “You?”

“I’m in awe of you. I always am.”

He grasped your hand, pushing the covers back and helping you crawl under them. He settled next to you in the bed, running his fingers through your hair. Your heavy eyelids tracked the movements, watching him watch you. The expression on his face was unreadable, but sleep was fast approaching, so you couldn’t find it in yourself to question it. You could barely keep your eyes open, the last thing you remember being the soft press of Frank’s lips on your forehead.

A pounding at the door woke you from your deep slumber. The hotel room was filled with daylight, and you shielded your eyes as you tried to find your bearings. Frank was next to you, lying on his stomach and hugging the pillow under his head.

Another knock at the door had you jumping to your feet, grabbing an extra blanket and wrapping it around yourself as you made your way to the door. You opened it to your very concerned-looking sister.

“You’re alive.” She observed, glancing over your blanket wrapped body, “And naked.”

“Yes, thank you. Is that all?” You gritted your teeth, unintentionally snarling.

She looked over your shoulder at Frank’s sleeping form and back at you.

“Didn’t you agree with me that this would be a bad idea?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“And you did it anyways?”

“Yes.” You rolled your eyes, itching to slam the door in her face and crawl back into bed with Frank.

“You’re going to get hurt. Or hurt him. Or both.” She stated, matter-of-factly.

“I haven’t thought that far ahead, yet.” You admitted, leaning your head against the doorframe.

Frank shifted behind you, and you looked at your sister incredulously. “Are we done?”

“Check out is in an hour. That’s all I wanted to come tell you.” She said, floating down the hallway towards her room. You closed the door, rolling your eyes again.

You turned, intent on forgetting the entire interaction, when you noticed Frank sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Hey.” You said softly, moving towards him.

“Hey.” His response was blunt, voice hard and cold. He stood, sliding past you. He didn’t even spare you a glance as he rifled through his bag, quickly getting dressed. You sat on the bed, watching him move around the room and gather his stuff.

You didn’t know what to say, or why it had gotten so awkward all of the sudden. You chewed your lip nervously. He finally looked over at you, resting his hands on his hips.

“Can you check us out on your own?” He asked, seemingly annoyed.

Your brow furrowed. “Um,” You started, trying to figure out where his coldness was coming from, “Yeah, I can do it.”

“Okay.” He nodded, lifting his bag. “I’ll see you in a few weeks then?” His voice had softened a little bit, but the expression on his face was still cold.

“Yeah.” You responded, not knowing what else to say. He walked out of the hotel room, not sparing a glance behind him. You watched as the door clicked shut, and you took a deep shuttering breath. Tears prickled behind your eyes, and you didn’t know what else to do besides packing your stuff. When you got to the lobby 20 minutes later, Frank was nowhere to be found.

Thanksgiving:

This was probably the most nervous you’d ever been to see Frank, even more than Valentine’s Day when you’d officially started being holidates. You had barely spoken to him since Halloween, which bothered you more than you thought it would. You’d grown so used to his daily texts and phone calls that the radio silence was increasingly frustrating. When you’d texted him to ask if he was still coming to your parents' house for Thanksgiving, he’d sent a simple ‘yes’ 12 hours later.

You were perplexed by Frank’s behavior, but you chalked it up to overthinking your night with him. You’d never agreed to anything more than holidates with him, and you couldn’t just assume that Frank would be different with you after having sex with you. You had simply misread the signals he’d been sending you, and that was your fault.

Your mother hadn’t stopped audibly sighing since you’d shown up on the front porch alone. You hadn’t talked to Frank about riding together, so you’d texted him that you were driving yourself. He hadn’t responded, and it was now 15 minutes past the time he was supposed to be here.

“Are you sure he’s coming, honey?” Your mom asked, fiddling with the oven mitts on the counter.

“He said he’d be here.” You muttered, trying not to look at the clock again.

Your phone buzzed, and you read a text from Frank: ‘I’m outside.’

You walked out to the front porch, where you met Frank, who was holding two bouquets of flowers in his hands.

“More flowers?” You asked, looking at the beautiful array of orange, yellow, and red flowers he had picked out.

“Of course. You know I never show up empty handed.”

“I’m surprised you showed up at all.” You couldn’t keep the bite out of your tone as you said what you’d been worrying about since Halloween.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Frank didn’t raise his voice, and for that you were glad, but the tone was definitely sharper than you were used to.

“I just meant that you haven’t been very communicative lately. If you met someone else, that’s fine, but I need to know that stuff so I can tell my family we broke up.” You crossed your arms and shuffled your feet.

“Is that what you want?” He asked, eyeing you.

“What?”

“To break up.”

“We’re not together, Frank. It’s not real.”

He inhaled sharply, nodding.

“Okay.” He said finally, handing you both bouquets. He turned, stalking back towards his car.

“Where are you going?” The tremble in your voice was entirely too noticeable, and you kicked yourself for being so emotional over this non-relationship.

“Home. We're not fake-together anymore. Remember? Tell your mom sorry for the inconvenience.”

He climbed into his car and pulled away from the curb at an alarming pace. You stood there, dumbfounded, watching his car until you couldn’t see it anymore. The tears that you’d spent the last few weeks holding in finally made an appearance, and sobs began to overwhelm your body.

You had totally fucked everything up, and now you had to go inside and tell your family that you and Frank had broken up. The thought of it made you cry even harder.

The door opened behind you, and you felt the soft embrace of your sister around you.

“I’m so sorry, honey.” She mumbled into your back, squeezing you into a hug.

“I don’t know what happened.” You said, clutching the flowers to your chest.

“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry.”

She held you for longer than you care to admit before you finally went inside to deliver the news.

Christmas:

You layed on your parents’ couch, watching as your mom slowly decorated the Christmas tree in the living room. You usually helped her, but you’d been a wreck since a few weeks ago at Thanksgiving, and your mom hadn’t asked for your help, just your company.

The tree came together perfectly – it always did when your mother was involved – and you tried not to think about Frank, or the fact that you hadn’t been able to sleep or eat since you’d seen him last.

When your mom sat on the couch next to you, she sighed, which was always a sign that she had something important to discuss. You tried not to outwardly groan.

“Honey,” she started, taking your hand in hers, “I know you miss Frank, but you can’t let this ruin your happiness. He is very handsome and nice, and I don’t know what happened between you two, but I need you to remember that you deserve a kind and forgiving love like the rest of us. If he can’t offer that, he’s not worth your time.”

The overwhelming urge to come clean to your mom about the entire thing ate at you as you listened to her. You responded before you could lose the nerve.

“Mom, I made a mistake.”

She nodded, leaning forward to listen to you.

“Frank wasn’t really my boyfriend. We were faking it, so that you and dad would stop worrying about me. Except, I think I really fell for him, and then everything went to shit, and I think I accidentally fell in love with him, and I don’t know what to do.”

Your voice cracked, and another wave of tears fell down your face. The only thing you could manage to do lately was cry, and it was beginning to drain you of your will to function.

“Oh, honey.” She chuckled, squeezing your hand against her chest. “We don’t care if you have a boyfriend or not. We just want you to be happy, sweetie. And I’m sorry if it came across like we were trying to marry you off. We just wanted you to find someone who could make you as happy as we make each other.”

She pulled you into a hug and rubbed your back in a soothing pattern as you cried into her chest.

“You know, we’ve never seen you as happy as you were with Frank.” She murmured.

“It wasn’t real, Mom.” You muttered, shaking your head.

“You can’t fake that. He looked at you like you hung the moon. And you looked at him the same way. Even if it started as something fake, that’s not something you can fake for long.”

You stayed quiet, mulling over her words.

“You should call him.” She suggested, shrugging her shoulders.

“I can’t call him. We fake broke-up.”

“You can do anything you set your mind to.” She stated, raising her chin. “I didn’t raise you to give up so easily.” She flicked your nose, smiling. “Do you want some hot chocolate? I’ll make it the way you like.”

You sent her a small smile, nodding. “Yeah, thanks.”

After she made it to the kitchen, you pulled out your phone. You weren’t going to call him, you weren’t insane, but you could text him.

You asked him if you could talk and watched as the bubbles next to his name appeared, disappeared, and then reappeared on the screen. Your phone buzzed, and an uneasy feeling settled in your gut.

‘Yes. Can you meet me at the Christmas tree farm off of Jones?’

You jumped up, pulling on your boots and yelling at your mom not to make the hot chocolate.

“Where are you going?” She exclaimed, briskly walking into the living room. You were already a foot out the door.

“Frank!” You yelled behind you, running to your car.

The drive was frustratingly long, and you didn’t remember there being so many stoplights in town, and of course you hit every red light.

When you pulled into the lot, you spotted Frank’s tall frame looking over a sad-looking tree. You got out, slowly making your way towards him. When you finally stopped next to him, you were convinced you might bite a hole through your cheek.

“This looks like Charlie Brown’s tree.” You stated.

“There aren’t any good ones left. I waited too long to get a tree.” He responded, shuffling his feet. You still hadn’t looked at each other.

“Why’d you wait so long?” You asked, stalling.

“I wanted to get one with you.”

You looked at him, eyebrows raised.

“With me?”

He nodded, finally meeting your gaze. You didn’t know what else to do, so you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. His arms tightly surrounded you, breathing you in for the first time in weeks.

“I missed you.” He whispered, squeezing you for emphasis.

“I missed you, too.” You murmured.

When you pulled away, tears threatened to spill on your cheeks for what felt like the millionth time in the last month.

“What happened?” You asked, confused at his behavior the last two times you’d seen him.

“You told your sister sleeping with me was a bad idea, and I know I wasn’t supposed to hear it, but I took it as you didn’t want to be with me, and I freaked out. I thought we would be together after Halloween. Like seriously together, and then when you said that, I thought maybe I had been misreading everything since I met you. And then I realized what a dumbass I am, because the sad look on your face when I left on Thanksgiving told me that you actually did care about me. And then I didn’t know what to say to you, so I didn’t say anything. But what I should’ve said was ‘I’ve been in love with you since Easter, and I want to be your holidate for the rest of my life, if you’ll let me.’” He finished by throwing his hands up in the air.

You smiled, eyes glistening. “Remember when I was the one who rambled when I was nervous?” You asked, giggling.

He threw his head back and let out a loud laugh.

“I do remember that, yes.”

“Would it help if I said I came here to tell you that I fell in love with you a long time ago? And that I’m an idiot for ignoring it for so long? And that I love you so much that these last few weeks have been absolute hell for me?”

He grinned, cupping your cheeks. “Yes, that does help a little bit.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, leaning into his hold. “I could grovel more if you need me to. I came ready for anything.”

“I’m sure, sweetheart.” He softly pressed his lips against yours, and you physically felt all of the pain of the last few weeks leave your body. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

When you finally broke away, you were breathless and on cloud nine. You nodded towards the tree he had been looking at.

“I like this one. Wanna get it?” You asked.

He chuckled and nodded. “What Miss Daisy wants, Miss Daisy gets.”

You giggled, pulling him into another kiss.

If you’d told yourself a year ago that you’d be here, kissing Frank Castle in the middle of a Christmas tree lot, you would laugh at yourself. Frank wasn’t what you were expecting, but you had learned over the last year that the best things in life usually come when you least expect them to, and that when you have something good, you shouldn’t let go of it. You weren’t planning on letting Frank go anytime soon, or ever if you could help it, and the way Frank refused to drop your hand, even when you tried to get into your own car to drive to his house, told you he wouldn’t be letting go of you either.

End Note: I really hope you enjoyed this! If you want to see this in a series with other Marvel characters, let me know! Also, can we please figure out how to get Jon into a romcom. I need that in my life IMMEDIATELY.

Tag List:

@xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @mymamalife @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @fightmilk @spikedhe4rt @fictional-hooman @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen

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gay-for-victoria-de-angelis · 3 months

Text

Exam Stress - DR3

Note : I am so sorry to the original requester but I somehow managed to delete the original request and lost your account so please comment if it was you who requested this so that I can tag you (I managed to save the request tho so I can still write it and put it on here). I also wanted to add that I am not glorifying anything, please take care of yourselves.

Request: Hey bestie, it’s exams and im literally dying so something with Daniel where the reader is attending races to support cause he just came back and she is tiring herself to death so Danny and other drivers (charles, george and Max) tries to calm her or something like that

Warnings: talk of overworking and burn out, ignoring mental and physical health, forgetting to eat and sleep, panic attack, Max/Charles/Lando being older concerned brothers.

Word count: 1608 words

!NOT PROOF READ!

I knew that I should tell Danny. I knew. But he was really stressed with racing and everything that I didn’t want to worry him. I thought I had been doing a good job of hiding the stress I was under and Acting like I wasn’t always on the verge of breaking down. I spent my time studying non-stop and then travelling to races from time to time to avoid suspicion. That soon became harder when Daniel and the other drivers started to beg me to come to more. The media had become suspicious as well but I had been muting notifications and ignoring the media. I eventually gave in and agreed to go to more races. Spending the two weeks leading up to my flight worrying about how I was going to balance studying and the races.

Two weeks later, I was on the flight out, quickly sending Danny a quick text saying that I was about to take off and that I loved him, turning my phone off before he responded. I needed to focus on studying as much as possible before the race. When I got off the plane, I turned my phone back on and responded to Danny, telling him I would be out in a couple minutes.

As I walked out of the gate, I saw Daniel looking around for me, frowning. His expression quickly changed when we locked eye contact and his beautiful smile formed on his face. The sight of his smile made me forget my worries, if only briefly. He rushed over to me and hugged me tight before kissing me hard. When he pulled away, I murmured a quiet ‘I love you’ to him before arguing with him over taking my bags, eventually letting him take them - despite my protests.

When we got to the hotel, Daniel opened the door and placed my bags down, watching concerned as I went to grab my laptop and sit on the bed to do work. “Don’t you want to shower and take a nap?” He asked but I just shook my head and said I had work to do. Danny came and sat down next to me, softly taking my laptop from me, ignoring my protests. “You need to rest.” he stated, taking in the bags under my eyes and the weight I had lost from forgetting to eat. “Please?” he added when I didn’t respond. I just nodded and let him turn on the shower for me, eventually leaving me to shower - sensing I wasn’t in the mood for him to shower with me.

I knew I was in there a while but I just couldn’t bring myself to get out, standing under the water and staring at the wall. When I finally managed to gather the energy to get out, I heard Daniel on the phone talking to someone.

“I can tell there's something going on with her but I don’t know what.” I paused my movements. Crap. He could tell something was wrong. I couldn’t hear the other person on the phone but as I worried about him finding out, I blocked out the conversation until I heard him hang up. “Thanks Max, will do.” I quickly finished drying myself off and started to brush my teeth as he walked into the bathroom.

“Hey honey.” Danny said as he walked in. I spit out my toothpaste and said hi back, leaning into his touch as he hugged me. “How about we order in and watch a movie in bed?” he asked, looking down at me. I bit my lip, contemplating as I still have a lot of work to do. It seemed as if he could read my mind when he said that I should take a break from work so I agreed, to avoid suspicion. He seemed surprised by my lack of resistance and smiled before walking out to grab me my pyjamas. I said a quick thank you and moisturised before changing.

“What do you say about Italian?” Daniel asked, looking at his phone for places.

“Sure.” I responded, not feeling that hungry but wanting to make Danny happy. He looked up as I walked in but quickly shifted and moved the covers back to allow me to get in. I curled into his side as he wrapped his arm around me, grabbing the TV remote and choosing one of our favourite movies.

When I woke up the next day, Daniel was gone but he had left a message saying he was at the track and looked forward to seeing me there. After getting ready I decided to use the time I had left to do more work. The test was later in the day, my teacher was letting me do it online, and we would be getting results back the next day. I knew I had gotten distracted when I got a call from Max asking where I was. “Shit I got distracted, I’m on my way now.” I said as I grabbed my bag, pulling on my shoes and running down to my car.

As I pulled into a parking space and walked quickly towards the red bull paddock, I was surrounded by reporters and photographers asking questions and taking pictures. It was all overwhelming but I ignored them and continued to walk quickly into the paddock. When I reached the building, Daniel greeted me, hugging me tight before pulling away and scanning me to make sure I wasn’t hurt. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yep, just a little overwhelmed from reporters and all them.” He sighed and hugged me again before allowing me to find somewhere to sit to watch as the saturday practice session started. I spent most of the time revising and doing work so that I was prepared for my test.

When it ended, I quickly put away my laptop as to not alert Danny or Max. Daniel ran over to me, hugging me as it had gone well today. I hugged him back with a smile as he planted a kiss on the top of my head. “We’ll go home soon yeah?” he said and I nodded before he walked away.

The first thing I did when I woke up the next day was check for my exam results. They hadn’t been uploaded yet. Due to the fact that I had woken up earlier than usual, Danny was awake but still in bed. He took my phone from me gently and made me lie back down, pulling my body into his. “You did amazing okay? Let’s get something to eat and go to the paddock yeah?” I sighed and nodded, laying there for a couple more minutes before we both had to get up. We got ready and went to a small café for breakfast. I managed to eat the small amount I had ordered, Daniel asking if I was still hungry but I just shook my head no.

As we made our way into the paddock, Danny had a tight grip on my hand, reassuring me as he knew how the reporters and photographers that frequented made me anxious. The race went well for him and Max and after debrief I waited in his drivers room as he showered and changed. I wanted to check my exam results but Daniel, Max and Charles had forced me to promise that I wouldn’t. We met up with Max and Charles as we walked out, agreeing to go to dinner with them later.

When we got back to the hotel room, I could finally check my results. Daniel was in the bathroom when I checked them.

30%.

I couldn’t understand how I did so badly. I spent weeks revising non-stop, not eating or sleeping to make sure I covered everything. Which I did. I was so engulfed in my thoughts that I didn’t realise that Daniel had walked out and seen me panicking. He quickly rushed over, taking the phone from my hands before pulling me into a hug and sending a message to Charles, Lando and Max. He held me as I cried, comforting me. About five minutes later, Charles, Max and Lando showed up at the door, letting themselves in with the key Danny had given them.

I had calmed down enough by then to show them my results and they sat down, looking at my phone, giving me sympathetic looks. They asked if I wanted to talk about it but I just shook my head. I laid down on top of Danny as we all watched a show until Max paused it. I looked over, confused as he sat up.

“We need to talk about what’s been going on.” Everyone else sat up as they looked at me. I just looked down at my lap. “Y/n. You’ve stressed yourself out so much with this exam that you haven’t been eating or sleeping enough.” I continued to just look down until Daniel gently grabbed my chin to look at them. Lando then spoke up, “We’ve been talking and we know now that you’re going to have to retake the test and we think that you should be monitored for now. Not in a hypervigilant way…”

“But we want you to either eat with us or tell us what you’ve eaten and we know that Daniel will know if you’ve slept enough.” Charles finished.

“You also shouldn’t be doing more than a couple hours of revision a day okay?” Daniel said and I just nodded quietly. “I love you.” Danny said, planting a soft kiss on my lips.

“I love you too.” I responded as we laid back down again.

#f1 #formula one #f1 wags > f1 drivers #formula one fanfiction #f1 masterlist #f1 x reader #formula 1 #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #daniel ricciardo #DR3

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captains-simp · 2 years

Text

Wanda Maximoff ~ Meeting Expectations

(Not my gif)

dark!Wanda X fem!Reader

4.8k words

Warnings: coercion, non-con/dub-con, unwanted telepathy and hints of mind control, obsessive behaviour, mommy kink, public teasing, fingering, degrading, praise, somnophilia, oral, strap on use

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee? ☕️

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was around mid autumn when you finally got to visit your sister. Although you kept in frequent contact, your visits to see each other were few and far between due to the redhead’s unpredictable job that weaved itself deeply into her general life. So when Natasha invited you to come stay at the compound for a couple weeks, you leapt at the opportunity and found yourself on the next train to Manhattan where Happy awaited you.

Unsurprisingly to him, you sat up front with Happy as opposed to in the back with the expensive champagne to catch up with him about the team and his own strikingly thrilling personal life. He talked animatedly of his brother’s ‘newest side piece’ who was invited to one of Tony’s parties only to spend the entire evening following a wholly unimpressed Natasha around like a love stricken school boy. You wished you could have been there to witness your sister’s temper grow thin but didn’t dwell on this for much longer when Happy passed through the security station and towards the tower, smiling when he saw you lean forwards in your seat to get a good look at the building you hadn’t visited nearly as much as you had hoped.

As the car slowed to a stop you sprung out of the expensive vehicle and into Natasha’s embrace where she had been waiting, holding on tight to her as she chuckled before eventually pulling back to hold you by the shoulders and get a good look at you. “Hey, kiddo.” She finally got to greet.

“Hey short-stuff.” You said with a teasing smile. Natasha rolled her eyes at you and led you towards the building after taking your bags from Happy and began catching you up on everything Happy hadn’t had the chance to. She told you about how Tony had blown up half of his lab and when Fury came to berate him for it he played the “I paid for it anyway” card to get him out of trouble. “Of course that didn’t stop Rogers from giving him a speech about responsibility and prioritising safety.”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who threw himself on top of a grenade.” You quipped.

“Exactly!”

“That was completely different!” Came two voices from the common area as you rounded the corner and found Steve and Tony watching some seemingly forgotten 80s cop film.

“Sure thing, icecap.” Tony called over his shoulder as he gave you a hug. “How ya been, kid?”

“Better than you apparently.” You quipped and he grinned shamelessly. Whatever he had been messing around with in the lab must have been worth it. You were about to ask about it when Wanda appeared from the kitchen, deep green eyes immediately finding yours as though you were the sole target of her interest. You had had very limited time with Wanda in the few years she had been on the team. You knew she and your sister were close, Natasha naturally falling into the role of Wanda’s mentor in her new job and life even years later and that their friendship had strengthened as a result, and yet you seemed to never find the opportunity to hold a conversation with the witch for long. At parties one of you was always swept off to be introduced to someone new and more domestic settings were rare due to the Sokovian being called on missions just as frequently as Natasha. You always wished you had the opportunity to grow as familiar to her as the rest of the team were with you and you wondered if your stay would finally present that chance.

“If you guys aren’t too busy bickering like children there’s food ready for you.” Wanda announced with a teasing smile directed at Tony and Steve who were quick to abandon their debate for the meal.

“It’s good to see you again, honey.” Wanda smiled though it looked like she wanted to say more when her eyes flickered towards your sister. You blushed slightly at the nickname but hid it well when Natasha pushed you towards the kitchen, insisting that she was too hungry to be standing around any longer. You found your seat next to the top of the table where Natasha sat as the rest of the team came flooding through to the kitchen at the smell of the freshly made meal. They welcomed you like an old friend and you all easily slipped into a comfortable conversation about your lives as Wanda brought the meal dishes to the table and sat down on the other side of you.

Perhaps if you weren’t so caught up in listening to Clint talk so fondly of his youngest child’s success with learning how to shoot a bow and arrow you would have noticed how Wanda was struggling to keep her hands off of you. Whenever your hand rested on the table she placed hers as close as possible to yours without you touching, internally fighting tooth and nail with herself not to run her thumb across the back of your hand and your palm just to see if it was really as soft as she had imagined it to be every night since the first day you met. There were a lot of things about you Wanda wanted to compare to her daydreams and late night fantasies and she would be damned if she let you slip through her fingers one more time.

When Wanda’s hand dropped to your thigh after running through her thick hair you first assumed it was an accident from how crowded you all were around the table. But when her hand stayed firmly in place and her thumb rubbed slowly across your covered leg you shot her a questioning look while the rest of the team argued about something that had happened in the cop film that had been watching earlier. You tried to move your leg away from the brunette's grip, not expecting to get such attention from a woman you had had such limited contact with, but the lack of space and hard hold she had on you made it difficult to do so. You figured maybe your squirming would grab your sister’s attention however you froze when a voice echoed inside your head.

Sit still for me, darling. We can’t have you attracting unwanted attention now, can we? Though you didn’t want to cause a scene in front of the team regarding your sister’s closest friend, your discomfort at the attention you were receiving from Wanda grew at having her obnoxiously invade your mind so shamelessly. Again, you looked around only to find the team deeply invested in a new debate so you decided to hold out a little longer.

Good girl. Came her voice again as a fond praise. You despised the way your heart fluttered from such a prideful tone by Wanda towards you and closed your eyes for a brief second in a feeble attempt to fight off any other unwanted feelings that could stem from Wanda’s actions. You’re adorable when you’re trying to behave. So pliant for me. Do you want mommy to reward such obedience? The shiver that raked your body upon having those words boom around your head didn’t go unnoticed by the witch. She smirked in satisfaction of her affect on you and let her nails drag across the thin fabric of your leggings as her hand grew bolder and higher up.

You breathed deeply and stared holes into the empty plate in front of you as Wanda’s hand reached the top of your thigh and began to forcefully pry itself between your clenched legs until Tony shot up from his seat and clapped his hands together excitedly. “So what are we thinking? Game night or some more films?” The billionaire asked as he eyed you for your apparently deciding vote. Wanda withdrew her hand quickly and placed it into her own lap where she gazed down at it in silent concentration, as though she could see a trace of you on it.

“I think we’re all long overdue getting to see y/n kick your ass at Donkey Kong.” Sam quipped from the end of the table.

“The bird’s got a point.” You chuckled somewhat nervously as Wanda used her magic to take the plates over to the kitchen and followed on behind them like nothing happened without sparing you a second glance.

“How long are you gonna be gone?” You asked, trying to sound more curious than hurt. You understood that Natasha couldn’t put off saving the world for the sake of your visit, but your sister had invited you to stay because things usually seemed to quiet down in New York during the autumn time when it came to aliens attacking the city. Apparently not all the Avengers level threats got this memo.

“It should only be a couple days.” Natasha said with her optimism she saved for when she was trying to make you feel better about something. “And I’m sure you won’t get bored with all of the entertainment systems Tony had installed. Did he tell you about the arcade room on the 4th floor?” You couldn’t help but smile at that and made a mental note to check that out. “Besides, Wanda will be here to keep you company.” Natasha added as she collected the unapproved S.H.I.E.L.D tech she had swiped from the labs, claiming they were Widow Approved.

You had yet to tell Natasha about Wanda’s advance at the table. After the team had exhausted themselves with Wii sports games you had all headed to bed and your interaction with Wanda had been forgotten (courtesy of Wanda) until the following afternoon when Natasha had to break the news to you that the team had been called away. You were unsure if you even should tell your sister about her mentee. You didn’t want to kick up a fuss about something you may have been misremembering and every time you considered it too hard a fog like barrier consumed your thoughts and pushed your attention elsewhere.

“Just Wanda?”

“We need the whole team for this but Wanda’s powers could cause problems with the type of guys we’re facing.” Natasha shrugged. You recognised that as your signal not to ask anymore about the mission that was no doubt of the highest confidentiality and even if it wasn’t, Natasha didn’t want you to worry.

“I’ll be back before you even realise I was gone.” Natasha said when you didn’t reply. She wrapped her arms around you tightly and you hugged you back for a while until she pulled away and swung her bag over her shoulder and ruffled your hair in the way she knew you hated. You swatted her hand away with a badly hidden grin and she chuckled as she led you both down to the quinjet in a comfortable silence where she boarded with the rest of the team and promised to be back soon.

Once the entire team was gone you wandered around the corridors of the tower aimlessly, deciding you weren’t in the mood for the arcade games and that you weren’t really in the mood for anything. You asked Tony’s AI where Wanda was, finding it strange that you hadn’t run into her yet, to which the voice identified her location in the gym. You wondered if you should be trying to avoid the witch or confront her. Maybe she hadn’t intended to come off so strongly and perhaps this could be your chance to get to know her how you always hoped to.

You were in the kitchen making yourself a snack when Wanda found you. She had just finished her training for the day but found her spent energy coming back to her when she saw you kneeling on the counter to reach the jar you needed. You had questioned why it was up so high and concluded it was simply Clint trying to annoy Nat when you heard Wanda clear her throat behind you and you almost fell off the counter. You were caught by a red mist wrapped around your frame and guiding you back down onto your own two feet. It didn’t go unnoticed by you that the restrictive hold remained a few seconds more than necessary once you were stable but when you turned around to face Wanda and voice your observation you froze at the sight before you.

There was still the faint trace of her magic swirling around her flexed fingers that she lowered to fiddle with her empty water bottle as she watched you with a faint smirk, noticing the way your eyes darted down to her exposed abs several times. “Er, thanks.” You chuckled awkwardly as you tried to look anywhere but at the brunette in her simple sports bra and leggings that greatly complimented her figure.

“You’re welcome, kotyonok.” Wanda hummed as she took several steps towards you. You backed up not so subtly as she did so but stopped when your back hit the counter and you held the edges in support as the witch continued to stalk towards you with a predatory glint in her eyes. She reached out only to grab a glass off the shelves behind you and flick the tap on to fill the glass. The blushed and went to move out of her way but Wanda placed her free hand on your other side, locking you between the counter and herself.

“What’s the rush to get away?” She asked innocently as she brought the glass to her lips and sipped on her water before placing it on the counter and bringing her hand up to your chin, tilting it upwards to force you to look at her. “I thought you would be looking forward to getting all this time and space to ourselves.” She mused as she stroked your skin softly before cupping your cheek. “Don’t you want us to get to know each other a little better.” You furrowed your brow slightly as you wondered how she could possibly know that. How many times had she implemented your mind and for how long?

You couldn’t bring yourself to voice these queries when Wanda pressed her strong thigh between your own, pressing you further into the counter while she pressed against the area she had failed to reach the evening prior. “Wanda…” you managed to speak as she dropped her head to your neck and planted soft kisses across your exposed skin. You placed your hands to her stomach in an attempt to push her away but at the feeling of her abdomen flexing against you your movement stuttered and you suddenly became immersed in the sensation of having Wanda pressed so close to you.

When the brunette pushed her thigh further against your core the breathy moan that escaped your lips stirred a new level of need and possession for Wanda. She sucked on your neck harshly, eager to mark you as her own as well as hear you vocalise the need for her she knew you were afraid to admit. “Mine.” She muttered against you, her teeth grazing your skin.

“Wanda, stop. We shouldn’t.” You denied weakly.

“We can do whatever we want. No one’s here to stop us.” Wanda argued back as her hands dropped to your hips and guided you to grind against her muscular thigh.

“Fuck.” You muttered, not wanting to give in to something you weren’t entirely comfortable with due to the distant voice in the back of your mind reminding you of Wanda’s forceful nature that you didn’t want to indulge. However Wanda left no room for complaints as her fingers dipped into the waistband of your leggings and sighed deeply when she felt along your panties that betrayed you with the evident arousal soaking through the fabric.

“You should listen to what your body wants, detka.” Wanda husked as she stroked the wet patch and your legs became weak. “Listen to what I tell you.” She continued as she pushed your panties to the side and ran her fingers through your folds before rubbing your clit slowly and lightly, not giving you nearly as much as you wanted but not prepared to ask for more. But that was okay, Wanda was understanding. She was more than happy to toy with your body for her own amusement.

“You have such a pretty body, y/n.” Wanda cooed as she maintained the same maddeningly slow pace while sucking on your collarbone and dipping just below the collar of your shirt. “It makes me want to treasure you, to handle you with so much care and treat you like the good girl I know you can be for me.” There was a deceiving adoration to her voice that you couldn’t help but entirely soak up. “And it also makes me want to fucking ruin you.” Without any warning, Wanda forced two fingers into your cunt down to the knuckles and keenly listened to your whines of protest. She barely pulled her fingers out before she thrust them harshly back into your awaiting pussy that clenched down on the brunette’s digits as though afraid to let them go.

“You’re so fucking tight.” Wanda grunted as she quickly picked up a fast rhythm that you struggled to adjust to. Though you were wet enough to allow no restriction to Wanda’s intrusion, even beginning to soak her hand, you whimpered and tried to close your legs on the witch but with her thigh still resting just beneath her hand, you found it impossible to do so. “Such a perfect needy whore for me.”

You placed your hands on Wanda’s shoulders for support once she curled her fingers beautifully inside you and moaned louder than you had in a while with previous partners. You practically fell against the Avenger who had quickly learnt how best to touch you and earn the reactions she desperately wanted to hear. “That’s my girl, just take what mommy gives you.” She coached as her fingers continued to work wonders against all the right places while maintaining such an urgent and frantic pace that you found yourself craving and hoping wouldn’t end. “You’re going to look a dream when I fuck you with my cock.”

Had you been in clearer mind, you might have shoved at Wanda’s shoulders to put distance between you. But as Wanda adjusted to press her thumb firmly against your clit with each thrust, you reached around to cling onto her back and raked your nails just above her sports bra. The throaty moan this brought from Wanda made you whimper in response and start bucking your hips up against her palm in an attempt to chase your fast approaching high.

“Wanda, please…fuck, mommy!” You cried out as the last of your resistance crumbled.

“Please what, printsessa?” Wanda smirked knowingly as she felt a wave of pride at hearing the title slip your lips. It sounded better than she imagined. All of you was better than she imagined.

“More, I’m gonna…fuck!” You whimpered and began to buck your hips more frantically in hopes of attaining what you struggled to vocalise.

“Tell mommy what you want.” Wanda urged as she began rubbing tight circles on your clit as her fingers continued to thrust against the spot that had your head reeling.

“I wanna cum.” You said quickly as though if you didn’t cum soon you never would.

“Cum for me, kotyonok.” Wanda ordered and you didn’t need her to repeat it before you were cumming on her slender fingers with a cry. Wanda rubbed the back of your pussy with her fingers as you came, refusing to pull them out in hopes of drawing out your orgasm for as long as possible. “So fucking pretty.” She murmured as she watched your blissed filled face as your head fell back against the cabinet.

Your chest heaved heavily when you finally came down from your high and Wanda pumped her fingers inside you a couple more times for good measure before pulling out and bringing them up to her lips. You watched through hooded eyes as she sucked her digits clean and hummed around them, more than satisfied with the taste.

“You taste amazing, detka.” She confirmed and brought you in for a desperate kiss that you hadn’t the energy to keep up with. You whined at this and she shushed you soothingly, smiling as she rested her forehead against yours. The unexpected peace that came from the small gesture was short lived when a familiar artificial voice called for Wanda’s attention and directed her to the meeting room urgently.

Wanda cursed in clear frustration and you eyed her cautiously as your past worries about the brunette came back to you. Wanda noticed how you started to tense up against her but didn’t address it as she stood back and huffed. “I have to go, my dorogaya.” Wanda sighed as she took ahold of your hands and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “But I won’t be long so don’t wander too far away.” She smiled teasingly though you saw something darker flicker across her face. In that moment, the thought of going on a walk to clear your mind had your entire head erupt into a brief, but overwhelming, crushing pain that was gone as soon as it came. You blinked several times in shock and saw Wanda nod approvingly before turning to attend to her Avenger’s responsibilities.

“Oh, meelaya.” Wanda sighed as she soaked up the site of you laying sprawled out across the bed completely naked. When you had gone to change into your usual nightwear something had stopped you from completing the usual routine and you had the strongest compulsion to sleep nude despite the warm guest room and luxurious sheets that you lay on top of. “Such a smart girl.” The Sokovian praised fondly. Your mind was so easy to break into.

You had fallen asleep before you could turn the bedside lamp on though as Wanda attentively shut the door behind her, she was immensely grateful for that. The soft glow of the small lamp highlighted the soft patches of skin Wanda had always dreamed of caressing and heightened her need for you that was built high after so many hours away from you.

Wanda crept closer to your soundless form in an effort to seek out the areas of your body that were submerged beneath the shadows that came from such a late hour. She didn’t care much for the time or how sleepy you may be at first. She would have you wide awake in no time.

“You look so precious like this. So tempting.” The Sokovian spoke softly as she stripped herself of her sweatpants then removed her shirt and bra once she was on the bed and hovering over you, desperate to feel your bare skin against her own. You slept on soundlessly as Wanda brushed the hair away from your face to get a better look at the contented expression she was sure she could admire in awe for hours. “So beautiful.”

Wanda gently manoeuvred your legs apart so that you were laying on your back, allowing the lamp’s glow to reach everywhere Wanda desired to see. She hummed as she let her hands roam your chest as she planted tender kisses across your breasts and took your nipple in her mouth before switching to the other and drawing a breathy moan from your sleep. The Sokovian smiled at the sweet noises you continued to make while she continued to treasure your body with her mouth until you started to wake from how sensitive and responsive your body was becoming.

When your eyes started to flicker open, you were immediately met by the dark green eyes that had infested your dreams and looked up at you from the space between your legs. You were about to sit up in a hurry and send a mass of questions towards the brunette but when she flattened her tongue and dragged it through your embarrassingly wet folds, you moaned and bliss and let your head fall back against your pillows as Wanda’s tongue leisurely explored your pussy while cherishing the intoxicating taste.

Wanda chuckled smugly when you attempted to push her face further between your shaking legs and instead pulled away to hover over you again. She had already spent plenty of time between your legs while you slept, sinking her tongue as far as she could to feel your muscles contract around her and draw out helpless mewls from you. She had your taste ingrained in her mouth and though she was sure she could positively spend hours more teasing and pleasuring your pussy, the witch had other ideas for that night. It was fine though, there would be plenty more opportunities for you to cum on her tongue in the future.

“Hey, sweet girl.” Wanda giggled and kissed you as you struggled to understand what was happening and if you were even really awake. “No one can feel that good in a dream, silly.” She chuckled. “And it’s not over yet.” She declared with a darker hint to her words as she grabbed the toy attached to her harness and pushed it between your legs. Your eyes widened at the sudden knowledge of what Wanda was about to use on you and though slightly scared from just haven been awoken to it, you couldn’t deny you were excited too.

Wanda pushed her hips forwards without much more warning and guided the strap into your awaiting cunt with a soft sigh as she watched how well your pussy took the thich toy. “See how well this pussy takes my cock.” The Sokovian said as she watched keenly everytime the strap disappeared inside you only to be pulled back with your wetness coating it. “You were made for me, darling.” She smiled when your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth opened in a silent scream when Wanda angled her hips just right. You moaned her name with such an air of innocence that the witch wanted nothing more than to corrupt.

She pushed the entirety of the toy forwards until her hips were resting against your own then stayed frozen in place as she watched the desperation grow in your eyes as you stared up at her like you needed her to survive. Wanda always knew she would make you the picture of everything she desired from you, she just hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly. She was immensely proud.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you while I was gone, detka. Honestly, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for 2 years. You’ve no idea how infuriating that is.” Wanda grunted as she punctuated her words with a sharp snap of her hips, filling you up again with the thick strap with no resistance and beginning to set a much harsher pace than she had originally been merciful enough to give. “Watching my girl let all those whores flirt with her like you don’t belong to me. I just wanted to bend you over those bars and fuck you infront of everyone so they know you’re mine.” You could see the sudden shift in her emotions and braced yourself for what was to come.

“I’m yours, mommy.” You tried, knowing it was best to try to please her as well as you could.

“That’s right and I’ll never let you forget it.” Wanda said as she began to fuck you harder, slamming the cock into you at a bruising pace with the intention of getting her message through. “Cum for me, detka. Cum for mommy.” She encouraged with an air of desperation as she began to toy with your clit to bring you closer to the edge you were leaning over. “Now.”

“Mommy!” You moaned in bliss as you clung onto Wanda's frame and shuddered violently as you came just as hard as you had in the kitchen with her only with her cock deep inside you instead of her fingers. It felt as though your body was floating as she allowed you to enjoy the high until you came crashing down.

“You look so good that fucked out.” She admired, not slowing down in her pace. You whined at the sensitivity and tried to squirm away but Wanda’s magic whisked up your wrists and held them firmly above your head.

“I’m not done with you yet. You’ll take everything I give you and if you know what’s good for you you’ll thank me for it.” She husked as she bit down on the spot beneath your ear and kept your body pinned beneath her own so you were helpless against her.

#wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #dark!wanda #dark!marvel #scarlett witch

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