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#have some homemade angst
nickfowlerrr · 8 months
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i never thought you’d happen to me - 2
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part one / part three
pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader
warnings: 18+ only. smut, fluff, bit of angst. time travel via magic. dad!bucky and mom!reader. steve x nat. some morally dubious homemade porn viewing 💀. if i’m missing anything that should be tagged, please lmk!
words: 6.7k
notes: this idea came from a prompt post i saw not too long ago and coincidentally fell into some bingo spots for my @the-slumberparty bingo card. fair warning: this is so completely self indulgent and a little trope overload lol but i had such a good time working on it and it was fun to write so who really cares 😌 thank you in advance for reading and reblogging! as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated. please let me know what you think!
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Back at the house, your house, you wander around the living room as Bucky sits on the tablet in the kitchen, consumed by whatever it is he's looking through.
You stop at the large bookshelf that's screwed into the wall, the picture frames all around catching your attention.
You smile at the baby pictures of the twins, admiring their tiny faces as you and Bucky each hold one, looking down at them like they were the only things in the world that mattered. You note how close you are to Bucky in the photo, practically in his lap as you lean into him.
Your eyes drift down the case before landing on a gorgeous shot, breathtaking, really.
You're in white, the elegant dress you don seemingly straight out of your dreams as you recline into Bucky who stands behind you, his arms around your waist as your hands cover his. You're smiling as he appears to be whispering something in your ear, a smile of his own evident as he does.
It's intimate and delicate and it seizes your heart as you can't seem to take your eyes off of it.
Your mind can't seem to make sense of it, though.
How do you get from here to there? How can you ever have this life? It seems so unreal.
Bucky can’t stand you more than half the time,  he's made that fact abundantly clear. So how the hell does he go from that to this? What changes? Why?
The sound of your name being called gets your attention as you wipe at your welling eyes. You hadn't noticed it happening, but you felt it when you finally blinked and looked away from the photo.
"Yeah?"
"My card is linked to this thing apparently, I was gonna order food."
"Okay," you breathe.
"What do you want?"
"I don't care. Whatever is fine," you brush off as you finally turn around and meet his eye. "I'm gonna shower."
He doesn't respond, but he doesn't take his eyes off of you either, watching you intently as you pass him and walk back to the room.
----
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The car ride back to the house seemed longer without the twins there to distract you from your close proximity to Bucky. And being alone together once you finally got back, despite the huge space allotted to you in this house, still seemed stifling. There was a growing tension between you that was more than ready to break.
You weren’t unfamiliar with the feeling. 
It seemed to be ever present when you two were around each other and only intensified the longer you were alone with one another. 
As you began undressing, starting the water for your shower, your mind wandered to the last time you found yourself in such close quarters with him. 
You were both beyond exhausted when you’d gotten back to the tower after your mission. It hadn’t gone as smoothly as anyone would have hoped, but you got the job done, if not just a little worse for wear. 
You were leaning against the right side of the elevator, facing the door as Bucky stood closer to the left side, facing the same direction as you. It was quiet, and though your body was sore beyond belief, you mentally chided yourself for not just taking the stairs. You’d just finished giving him a piece of your mind after he made yet another unhelpful comment about how you could have easily avoided being flung down a flight of stairs earlier. 
Crazy as it might have seemed, receiving a play by play of every tiny misstep you’d taken after a mission as grueling as that one didn’t go over too well with you. Especially as you stood with bandaged ribs, miscellaneous cuts, bumps, and bruises all over your body, and what you were sure was a concussion causing the throbbing in your head. 
You closed your eyes as you let your head rest against the wall, one hand on the rail and the other holding your duffel. 
A sudden jerking had your eyes snapping open as you held tighter to the railing to keep your balance, the light above shutting off briefly before a dimmer one returned as the elevator completely stopped moving.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you groused under your breath before sinking down to the floor in utter exhaustion. The elevator had been on the fritz since before you had even left for the mission last week, you assumed they would’ve gotten it fixed by the time you returned. Clearly you were wrong.
You watched as Bucky hit random buttons on the panel in front of him in a vain attempt to get the thing to move again. You wanted to say something snarky but just sighed exaggeratedly instead. After a moment, still no words spoken between either of you, Bucky took out his emergency phone and called for help.
You didn’t pay much attention to his conversation as the pressure in your head grew, but his next words caught your attention completely. 
“What the hell do you mean an hour?” he nearly growled into the phone. 
You couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation well but there were only so many people he could have called at this hour that would be able to help and the snicker that made its way through the line had you betting on Stark.
He hung up and chanced a glance to you, meeting your gaze. “Might be a while,” he huffed before looking away. 
He approached the doors of the elevator and you winced at the sound they emitted as he pulled them open slightly. He was greeted by nothing but the walls of the elevator shaft before he allowed the doors to close again. You watched as he checked the time on his phone before he sat down himself. You let your eyes shut again, your tiredness winning out in the quiet settling over you. It was maybe ten minutes later when you were rudely awoken by Bucky.
You were impressed with his bravery because you could still feel your irritation roiling off of you from your earlier exchange. Your eyes were still closed when you felt his fingers brush against the bruise on your jaw. 
“What?” you asked harshly, swatting his hand away from you as you shot daggers at him with your glare.
“Considering how often you find yourself in the med bay, you’d think you’d know the basics of what not to do when it comes to head trauma.” 
“Jesus Christ, you just never fucking stop, do you,” you huffed before snapping completely. “I get it, Bucky, okay? I’m a fuck up, I’m reckless and careless and I don’t think before I act, is that what you wanna hear? Are you happy now? I admit it! I’m everything you say I am. But at the end of the day, I have never put you or anyone else in harm’s way. And just a reminder, I got the files and took out everyone I needed to along the way by myself. So I don’t know, maybe give me a little fucking credit for once,” you raged, the pain in your body only adding to your anger.
“This isn’t about me or the mission getting done or anyone else,” he fired back, his tone catching you off guard, though you refused to show it, “I’m never worried about any of that. But you are careless. Look at you! You put yourself in needless danger over and over again, and yeah, it pisses me off. You always end up hurt when you never should have been in the position to get hurt to begin with. You think I enjoy seeing you like this? I’m your partner, I’m the one who’s supposed to have your back and yet every assignment, you continue to go out of your way to make it damn near impossible for me to do.”
“Your job isn’t to keep me from getting hurt,” you deflected, not wanting to focus on the way his words were making you feel as you flicked your eyes away from his burning blue ones. It was too confusing. A mix of care and chastation you were having trouble processing at once. 
“And yours isn’t to get killed in some pathetic attempt to prove yourself,” he shot back before his tone quieted significantly. “You have nothing to prove,” he finished. 
Your gaze softened at that, a sense of embarrassment coming over you at how clearly he saw through you; The simultaneous feeling of validation his last words offered had the previous tension you felt in your anger lightening before you let your eyes slowly return to his.
There was a thick silence between you as you looked at one another, nothing but your slowing breaths to be heard. His gaze wasn’t as harsh now, but it still took a lot out of you to hold it. The intensity his eyes held was unmatched. You hadn’t realized before, how much closer he had gotten to you, but it was evident now as you nearly felt yourself buzzing - suddenly all too aware of everything in the confined void you’d found yourselves in. 
And then, you couldn’t say why or how, but you found your eyes falling to his lips. A stuttered breath leaving you as inadvertently leaned in a bit closer to him. 
That wasn’t you, though, you’d realized after a split second, one hand reaching up to hold the rail. 
The elevator jolted a bit as it began to move again, only a few seconds passing before the ding signaling its arrival at the top floor sounded. You were still looking at one another, maybe more intensely than you’d realized, when the doors slid open.
“Uh-oh, did I interrupt something? Let me guess, lover’s quarrel?”
Your gaze quickly turned into a glare as you both turned to see Tony waiting at the doors for you.
You rolled your eyes and got up as quickly as you could, trying to hide your winces of pain as you did. 
“Fuck off,” you said as you brushed past him.
“Is that your catchphrase now?” he called after you, “Ya know, I like it, it suits you.”
You remember how embarrassed you were after that night, praying that Bucky hadn’t noticed where your eyes had drifted to, or if he did that he’d have the decency to pretend he hadn’t. You’d chalked it up to a moment of weakness. You weren’t stupid enough to expect him to return your (very well kept to yourself) feelings. You never expected anything out of him, and honestly you’d been trying to shake them yourself since you’d been partnered up. You avoided him for a good week straight after that night, and neither of you has brought it up since.
Even now, you could pretend all you wanted that those feelings didn’t exist, but deep down, you knew they were alive and well. And clearly, as you looked again at the picture of you and Bucky sitting on the bedside table, it wasn’t something you could believably go on denying much longer.
The shower helped. Kind of. You feel better physically, but your mind is still dead set on trying to figure out the future. You take your time drying off and getting into a clean pair of pajamas while Bucky waits in the kitchen.
He's scrolling through every app he can, trying to piece together his future as it stands. And if he's being honest, trying to figure out how the hell he was able to get you to stop hating him. How he was able to get you to fall in love with him..
He opens up the photo library, grinning as he sees photo after photo of the twins, and some family photos, pictures of you, pictures of him, intermingled in.
He backs out of the gallery and scrolls down mindlessly through the albums. His eyes land on the "Hidden" tab and he clicks on it without too much thought, his face unlocking it and granting him access.
His eyes go wide, his mouth goes dry at the images that liter the screen. 
He should close out, look away, something, but he doesn't. The scandalous photos grab him and he just can't. One icon in particular catches his eye and he clicks on it without thinking, the video playing instantly.
He watches the screen intently, hunching over the tablet as he holds it tightly in his hands. Sees himself leave from in front of the camera, his movement revealing you as you wait for him on your bed. You're peering up at him attentively as he approaches you before you spare a glance to the camera and then back to him. A soft smirk playing on your lips as he towers over you, causing you to look up further and further as you recline until you’re on your back. 
“Hi,” you simper breathily, earning a smirk from him in return.
“Hi,” he breathed, leaning ever closer.
He watches as you scoot back on the bed and he follows you, his hands tracing down your curves, fingers playing with the material of your lingerie before he drops his head and begins trailing kisses from the softness of your stomach, up your sternum and along your neck before finally your lips meet.
Bucky is completely enraptured in the scene playing out before his very eyes. He’s sitting here feeling jealous of himself as you run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to you before you bring a leg up around his hip, arching your body into his own.
It’s sensual at first but you both seem to grow impatient quickly as your kissing heats up and becomes more and more hungry. 
Finally, you slip a hand down and tug at the waistband of his boxers until he pulls away. 
Bucky can see your face perfectly, your eyes are dark as you push yourself up onto your forearms, watching him.
Instead of ridding himself of his boxers right away, he slowly, teasingly drags your silky underwear down your thick thighs as you watch him with heavy eyes, your legs spread just for him.
“Look at the camera,” he hears his own voice command.
Your eyes flick from him to the lens as Bucky swallows thickly, still completely unable to look anywhere but you. 
You gasp suddenly as he quickly buries his face between your thighs, your fingers tightening in his hair as your head lolls back some. Your soft moans begin tumbling past your lips as he focuses his attention solely on you, devoted and unrelenting as you mewl and writhe under his ministrations.
When a whimper of his name leaves you, it causes Bucky to shift in his seat, trying to ease the ache growing in his shorts as he watches you rock yourself against his face.
“Buck,” you moan, “please,” you whine with a tug of his hair. 
He watches as your toes curl, feet arching, and your entire body seems to tense around him, your eyes squeezing shut as your mouth hangs open until your legs quake and you let out a tight, shaky whimper on an exhale. You bite your knuckle in an attempt to keep yourself quiet while he continues working you through your orgasm. 
When he finally lets up and gives you a chance to collect yourself, he moves up your body, finding your lips as he kisses you again, leaving you even more breathless than you had been.
“It’s just you and me tonight, doll. Don’t hold back on me,” he kisses you again, his hands going around your back to undo your bra. “I’m gonna wanna hear you when I watch this back,” he smirks.
You're completely naked as Bucky stands before you, finally taking off his boxers. “Turn around for me,” he tells you. 
You do as he says, getting on all fours with him situated perfectly behind you. He angles you both so the camera has a better view. Bucky watches as he teases your entrance with his tip, over and over again as you whine and wiggle your ass in pure desperation for him.
He keeps the volume low as he lets the video play, he isn’t sure how much time passes as his eyes are glued to the screen, watching himself take you as you let him. He listens to how prettily you cry for him, to the salacious sounds of his cock driving into you over and over, the wet squelching mixing with the slapping of skin as he fucks you hard.
Bucky feels his cock twitching in his shorts as he watches you come for him before hearing himself groan deeply, moaning while he empties his load into your pretty cunt.
He watches the come down, sees himself running his hands along your skin, peppering kisses all over your body, before you roll over beneath him, pulling him down to you and kissing him desperately.
He is entirely unsure about the morality of this all, but he can't look away.
"Fuck, you're amazing," he breathes heavily as he pulls away from you just so. "Thank you, sweetheart," he grins lazily, stroking your cheek.
"Mmm,” you hum contentedly as you look up at him before continuing, “If anyone ever sees this, I'll kill you," you promise him with an 'I mean it' stare before pulling him back to you, crashing your lips together.
"No one'll see it, doll. I promise. For my eyes only," he says as he nuzzles into you. "You have no idea how much I miss you when I'm gone, baby."
"I think I have some idea," you respond, the sultry tone of your voice effortless as you wrap a leg around him.
It looks like you're about to go for another round, and the thirty minutes left in the video seem to confirm that thought, when Bucky hears the door of the bedroom finally opening.
He quickly closes out of the video, sliding the tablet away from himself before trying to hide and adjust his very obvious erection before you come in.
He clears his throat loudly, a bit awkwardly, as you enter the kitchen, earning a questioning brow from you as you walk toward the pizza box.
"You good?" you ask him as you grab a slice, not bothering with a plate.
He nods a bit too stiffly for your liking as you assess him. His cheeks are a little flush and he can't seem to look you in the eye.
"What did you do?" you question accusatorily.
"Nothing. I'm gonna shower now, if that's alright with you?" he questions haughtily.
You make a face at his tone, rolling your eyes as you turn around to grab a glass for water.
He doesn't mean for it to happen, but as you turn from him, his eyes fall to your ass, and he has to work to stop the groan that threatens to tumble from his lips as his mind replays the video for him.
Fucking creep, he chides himself as his cock twitches again. He takes the opportunity to stand and get to the bathroom as your back is to him.
---
You're on your third piece of pizza when Bucky returns to the kitchen, grabbing a slice for himself.
He's spent the last half hour going over in his mind exactly how you two could have possibly ended up here. He's still confused. And at his wit’s end.
Bucky speaks before he can think better of it.
"Why do you hate me?" he asks, seemingly out of the blue, causing you to turn toward him with quizzical eyes as you swallow your bite.
"Excuse me?" you ask in disbelief.
"Why do you hate me?" he repeats himself, his gaze never faltering as he holds your stare.
You're honestly dumbfounded.
You sputter for a second before attempting to form actual words. "I don't hate you, Bucky," you answer as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. And seeing your future, you were pretty sure it must have been. "I mean, clearly," you add a little embarrassed for yourself.
"No? Then why do you act like you do?"
"I -,” you’re about to deny the accusation, but truthfully, you know he’s right. So you pause before giving the only answer you can come up with. “I don't know. Self-preservation?"
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Defense mechanism. I mean, you've been a complete dick to me since day one, Bucky. Am I supposed to just let you ream me whenever you feel like it - justified or not. And for the record, most of the time, it's not. You treat me differently from everyone else, sidelining me over nothing, questioning my every move, and I don't know why but I stopped trying to figure it out a while ago," you spoke candidly.
He was quiet for a minute as he took in your words. You watched as his brows furrowed, his gaze dropping as he licked his lips mindlessly.
"I'm sorry," he finally said at last. It was soft, but sincere as a pained look seemed to have taken over his face. "I never meant to make you feel that way. But clearly I did. It's just.. you're so stubborn," he says with a shake of his head as his eyes meet yours once again. "I do treat you differently. Because, truthfully, you fucking terrify me. You can be reckless; you act like you're expendable, and you're not. You're the furthest thing from it. I just don't want to see you get hurt. And maybe I was too scared to actually voice that aloud before, but it is the truth. I don't know, I guess, I thought I was keeping you safe somehow, protecting you. And I know you don't need me to. I'm sorry. For being a dick, for interfering when I shouldn't have, and for not talking to you about things before. I am sorry."
You’re silent and quietly awed at his admission, swallowing hard before forcing yourself to break away from his brilliant blue gaze.
"Thank you," you accept, not knowing where to go from here. "Good to know you don't hate me," you add.
"Yeah, same here," he smiles softly. Another moment passes before you speak again, something unspoken growing between you.
"So, just to be clear, was that you admitting that...you like me?" you ask, hearing how juvenile you sound but not really caring all that much.
"That was me admitting that I care about you."
You take a breath and nod, "Oh, okay. So, you don't like me?"
"I didn't say that," he almost scoffs.
"So you do like me?" you ask again with a furrowed brow.
"Jesus, doll," he laughs lightly, "We're married."
"Not yet," you counter.
Bucky walks toward you, pizza long forgotten by you both as he suddenly gets to his knees before you while you stay seated in the chair, his face right about level to yours as you watch him with stilled breath.
His eyes are blazing a fiery blue as he holds your gaze. You have to blink at the intensity.
"I like you," he breathes quietly, careful not to break the soft air of intimacy as you stay so close to each other, earning a small smile from you in turn.
"I told Kate I had a crush on you during recruitment, that's why she always makes comments about us going on missions together so often," you admit unprompted, the urge to tell him the embarrassing secret you'd tried to keep hidden from the moment you let it slip to Kate just overcoming you.
Bucky smiles boyishly at that. "Steve was convinced from the beginning I had a thing for you, that's why we go out on missions together so often."
You can't fight the half smile that adorns your lips at his words, "Was he right?" you question. 
He nods.
"He was right," he whispers as he leans in closer to you. "Does our future not make that obvious?" he teases.
You don't think as you lean into him, one hand finding the back of his head and raking your fingers through the soft, dark brown strands as you breathe a bit heavier with anticipation, you watch as his eyes close at your touch, leaning ever closer. You’re sure he can hear the uptick of your heart as he meets your gaze once again, before your eyes flit to his lips. 
You shrug, a playful tilt to your lips.
"I can think of some other things that might make it more obvious," you murmur as you let your forehead press against his own, waiting for him to close the distance between your lips now.
His hand comes up to gently hold your face before he slowly brushes his lips against yours. 
It's soft and gentle as you kiss him again, but after a moment, one kiss turning into another and then another, your lips press harder against each other, hotter as it intensifies, your hand gripping his hair ever so slightly as he kisses you back just as hard before finally you force yourself to break away.
You shudder a breath as you part, catching your breath, but neither of you drop your hands.
Bucky's thumb gently strokes your cheek as you gaze into one another's eyes. So much unspoken, and yet so much being shared with the look alone.
The ringing of the tablet breaks you two up, though, as a FaceTime call pops up.
The contact is Natasha and seeing her name has you grabbing for the tablet and accepting the call right away.
"Hey," she greets as the sound of a movie playing in the background mingling with the giggles of children and fake cries for help from Steve can be heard just beyond her smoky voice.
"Hey, what's up? Did something happen?" you ask, hoping you don't sound as uncharacteristically panicked as you feel.
"That's what I was gonna ask you two. There a reason your daughter keeps twirling around shouting 'fucking dick' into the air every ten minutes?" She asks.
Your brows raise in surprise as your mouth parts open on nothing.
Bucky titters at the thought of that precious angel twirling around with a mouth like a sailor - a mouth like her mother. He smirks, answering for you.
"Yeah, that'd be thanks to her mother over here."
"Why am I not surprised," Nat responds.
"Sorry, she was mimicking me this morning and we didn't tell her to stop," you grimace. "Hey, can you put them on really quickly?"
"Yeah, that's actually the real reason I called. They wanted to say goodnight before they go to bed," she says as she walks into the living room.
"Linc, El, got some folks who wanna talk to you over here."
Your eyes light up as their perfect little faces fill the screen as Nat holds her phone for them.
When they register it's you and Bucky on screen, they smile brightly, calling out to you both.
"Hi, munchkins," you smile at the screen, Bucky right beside you.
"You guys getting ready for bed?" he asks.
"We're ready, Daddy! Just have to say goodnight to you and Mommy."
"Yeah we have to say goodnight so - and then we can sleep,"
You chuckle as Lincoln rubs his tired eyes.
"But I miss you Mommy," he pouts at the screen.
"'S okay, Linc," Ellie says as she takes her brother's hand, comforting him easily. You swear you're on the verge of tears as you smile at the sweetness.
"Sweetheart, I miss you, too. We miss both of you very much. But you guys are gonna have so much fun tomorrow! And we'll see you so soon, I promise. You two be good and listen to your Aunt and Uncle, okay? Oh, and Ellie,” her eyes widen as you say her name, looking attentively at your face on screen, “let's keep 'fucking dick' just an at home thing, alright?"
She giggles at your words but nods, "Okay, Mommy."
"Alright, goodnight you two," you say softly, not sure you’re ready to call it a night with them knowing what tomorrow is promised to bring.
"Goodnight, Mommy. I love you," they respond in unison.
"I love you more."
"Daddy's turn!" Linc calls for his father.
"Goodnight, Daddy," he says when Bucky leans further into the frame before you hand him the tablet to hold completely.
"Goodnight, Daddy," Ellie smiles.
"I love you," they say, again in unison. The sound is the cutest thing you've ever heard.
"Goodnight, guys. I love you more," he finishes with a soft, almost sad smile of his own before they run off the couch and chase Steve out of the room with the other kids. Nat offers you both a goodnight and a happy anniversary, parting with a wink before she hangs up.
"Those are ours," you say after a moment, astonishment lacing your tone.
"Yeah," Bucky chuckles. "We made those little punks."
"Ya know, I don't think we did too bad considering it's our first day."
"No, we were great. Naturals. They had absolutely no clue we'd never known them before today."
You laugh at that before the silence grows between you again. It's not something unusual for you guys, but the hot tension mounting in this moment in particular certainly is.
Bucky is still kneeling beside you, his large hand settled on your thick, plush thigh.
You scoot back, your weight pushing the chair. The movement allows his hand to smooth over your skin, sending sparks through you and raising goosebumps under his touch.
You try to pretend that it didn't send sparks alight in your belly as you move back further and stand, Bucky turning his gaze to follow your movements.
The sight of him on his knees before you, looking up at you with those devout blue eyes, it has your stomach fluttering as you take a deep breath.
He stands after a second, towering over you once again, somehow even closer now as you look up at him.
"What now?" you whisper.
"That's up to you, doll," he responds, voice lower than you've heard it before, his warmth radiating off of him and into you.
You see his hand twitch by his side, like he's holding himself back from reaching out and touching you again.
"Well," you swallow, "they said it's our anniversary, right?"
"Mhm,"
You raise your brows, shrugging the tiniest bit as you nervously lick your lips.
"You wanna celebrate?" you ask, your voice a little tight and heady as you flick your gaze back up to the darkening oceans of his eyes.
His lips crash into yours without another word, his speed catching you off guard as you gasp into his mouth. Bucky lifts you up like you weigh absolutely nothing and your legs circle around him as he holds you up, his lips never ceasing as he walks you out of the kitchen.
You only part to catch your breath, your forehead against his as he strides into the bedroom, your heavy breaths intermingling. Your hands are in his hair as your arms are wrapped around his neck.
He sets you down on the bed before backing away, granting you space you didn't ask for. You look at him, clearly not happy with the distance he'd put between you. Before you can say anything, Bucky speaks first.
"Are you sure you wanna do this?" he asks intensely.
You look at him for a moment, hoping he can see the sincerity in your eyes. "If I'm being completely honest, Bucky, I've wanted you from the moment I met you. I wanna do this," you answer him. "I'm sure. Are you?"
Bucky pulls off his shirt as you breathe a sigh of relief, a soft titter escaping you as you watch him. He steps closer to you, taking your face in his hold, kissing you deeply. “I’m more than sure,” he speaks against your lips before pushing you back on the bed. The move has a scene playing in his mind and has him hesitating from going further as shame creeps up on him.
“I-,” he squeezes his eyes shut as he thinks through what he’s about to admit to, “I need to tell you something first.”
“What?” you ask, worry clear in your voice.
“I, well.. Hold on,” he says before getting up and leaving you sitting on the bed confused and concerned. 
Bucky returns with the tablet in hand as you eye him.
He looks like a kid about to confess his wrongdoings, eyes down on the tablet as he approaches you slowly.
“I, uh. I came across this, and.. Uhm,” he clears his throat, “I,” he takes a heavy breath, “I.. watched.. it.” he says stuntedly. “Well, not all of it, but more than I should have..”
You’re confused as he hands the tablet over to you, but take it with a quirked brow.
An image of Bucky shirtless is on the screen and you trepidatiously hit the play button, wondering what the video could possibly be. 
Your eyes go wide as you see yourself on the bed in lingerie, Bucky sporting nothing more than a pair of tight boxers. You look up at Bucky still standing before you as a blush grows on his cheeks. You watch, still wide eyed as it goes on. You’re on your back, Bucky leaning over you, and god help you, there’s a tingling in your core growing as you look on.
“No way,” you say in disbelief as it suddenly connects in your mind, eyes flicking back and forth between him and to the screen. “Is this-? Did we-? And you watched it?” you ask, scandalized as your gaze shoots back up to him. 
He rubs the back of his neck self consciously, avoiding your gaze. “I know,” he says sheepishly - you’ve never seen him like this and it’s honestly a little entertaining, a bit endearing. “I’m-” your moan coming from the speaker cuts him off and grabs your attention as you look back down at the screen, mouth going dry as your core is anything but. 
“Fuck,” you breathe as you watch Bucky on his knees, between your legs. You almost stop breathing before you look away, catching yourself and pausing the video. “Uhm. Well, that’s- this is.. Unexpected. I mean, obviously we- they- have.. sex, but, a sex tape?”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have watched it, especially not as far as I did, and I just-”
“How far did you watch?” you ask, cutting him off.
You watch as he swallows hard before sitting down next to you, taking the tablet and scrolling to about the point he had stopped when he closed the video.
“Twenty five minutes?” you ask with a light laugh, looking at the time stamp, the screen paused on a still of you pulling him down on top of your naked body. 
“I’m sorry,” he says again, clearly ashamed of himself. You can’t help but laugh, loving how remorseful he seems.
“‘S’okay,” you say with a light shake of your head, pulling the tablet from his hand and locking the screen, tossing it on the opposite side of the bed. It’s not until you straddle his lap that he looks at you finally, his hands coming up without thought to hold your waist. His eyes twinkle with something akin to wonder. “I get it, can’t blame you,” you admit, your arms draped over his broad shoulders before slipping them behind his neck. “It’s hot,” you speak sultrily, leaning closer to him, allowing your lips to brush his briefly.
His eyes fall to your lips as he breathes headily, pulling you flush to him as he holds you tighter. “You think?”
“Mhm,” you nod, your chest brushing against his bare one with your every breath before you finally let yourself kiss him once again, your noses brushing against one another. 
His arms still holding you, Bucky turns you both onto the bed, ending up above you as you continue your soft makeout. His hands wander your body, touching and squeezing your softness lightly as you sigh under him, your hands wandering his body in turn. You feel like a teenager, experiencing something you’d only thought about in the far recesses of your mind for the first time, it’s intimate and exciting and you don’t even care to take this any further, your focus only on feeling each other, on being this close.
The ringing of the tablet, though, breaks through the moment. You glance over as Bucky continues kissing you, his lips on your neck as you try to read the screen - but it’s too far and out of your reach.
“Bucky,” you urge him, causing him to finally break away from you, turning to look at who was calling. 
His eyes squint as he sits up, reaching for the tablet and answering the call.
“Steve?” he answers in question. 
“Hey, sorry to interrupt, Buck. Linc’s having a hard time going to sleep, he wanted to talk to you again, I told him I’d give you a call.”
“Yeah, yeah, put him on,” he responds.
There’s a sniffle before Lincoln’s soft voice comes through the speaker, “Daddy?”
“Hey, buddy, it’s me. What’s going on, having trouble sleeping?” he asks, sitting up more attentively as you watch him.
“Miss you,” Lincoln answers solemnly, you can imagine him rubbing at his teary eyes already as you hear him sniffle again, your heart clenching at the image. “I need Wolfie, Daddy. You forgot to bring Wolfie,” you can hear his pout over the line.
“I’m sorry, pal,” Bucky apologizes sincerely, despite neither of you having had any knowledge of “Wolfie” being a necessity. “How ‘bout we bring you Wolfie?” he asks before looking over to you briefly.
“Yeah, can you bring him to me please, Daddy?” he puffs.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll bring him right now, buddy. Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon, I promise.”
“Okay,” he says, voice wobbly. “Love you, Daddy,” he adds breathily on a huff, sounding on the very verge of tears. 
“I love you, too, buddy. We’ll be right there.”
“He’s on his way, champ,” Steve says as he takes it off speaker, bringing the phone back to his ear. “Sorry, guys,” he offers to you both.
“Don’t worry about it, we were just, uh,... hangin’ out,” he says, scrunching his face at his own stupid response as you give him a ‘what the hell’ look, your hand gesturing of its own accord.
“Oh-kay,” Steve says at the odd response, “What is up with you guys today?”
“Uhhh,”
“Wait, don’t tell me.. Are you guys expecting again?” he asks, voice hushed.
“Yeah,” Bucky answers stupidly on an exhale, your mouth dropping while you gawk at him. 
“Really?” 
“No,” Bucky answers quickly again, “I mean, maybe. We don’t- we’re not sure. We don’t know,” he tries to remedy his previous baseless answer. “Look, I have to find Wolfie, so I’ll see ya in a minute.” He doesn’t wait for Steve to respond before he ends the call on his end.
“What the fuck was that?” you say on a titter.
His face is in his hands as he sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, “I don’t know.” His response is muffled by his hands as you crawl over to him, pushing on his back to make him stand up.
“Go get the wolf,” you say as you push on him.
As he stands, you get off the bed, too, throwing his shirt at him before he turns to the door. 
“Ya know, you’d think you’d be better at this,” you taunt, earning a glare from him as he heads to the kid’s room down the hall. 
“Can you go start the car?” he huffs as you watch him walk away.
You stifle a laugh through your nose, “Mhm,” you answer before heading down the hall yourself, grabbing the keys on your way out.
As you turn to close the front door, you’re surprised as Bucky’s already behind you, the plush white wolf in hand. 
“You’re so slow,” he teases, taking the keys from your hand while you blink up at him, a smirk on his face as he passes you while you just watch, your turn to huff. 
“Dick,” you accuse as you follow him, his smirk only growing at your insult before he gets to the passenger door, holding it open for you to get in.
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lvlyghost · 6 months
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Hello do you take requests cause I had this idea in my mind but I suck in writing
how bout a ghost x reader where he had a bad day and takes it out on his beloved reader who he's been in a really long relationship with, by starting an argument and maybe saying some really mean and bad things that break the reader. Like the reader is only a shell of herself and completely ruined by ghosts words and just crying or sitting completely still staring off the wall or just staring at nothing just being numb.
What would be interesting is Simons reaction when he realizes the damage that he's done, maybe he would cry/break down idk when he sees the usually happy reader being so dull and almost lifeless yk
But Pleasee don't do this to our hearts and write some comfort and a happy ending please I couldn't handle too much angst❤️😭
The Weight of the World
PAIRINGS: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader
SUMMARY: You promised to always lean on each other but sometimes love isn't enough.
WORD COUNT: 1.5k
TW: heavy angst, literally got some mid anxiety writing this🥴 swearing, self-doubt, hurt-comfort and slight fluff towards the end. lmk if i missed any.
A/N: finished this in one sitting lol, also not proofread and poorly edited, i've been having a shitty week so expect more angst lol. meet me in therapy. Enjoy anon!🤍🌟🫶🏻💕
Masterlist✨
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You hesitate right outside Simon's studio, the place where he secludes himself from everything and everyone. Ever since he came from his last mission he seemed to be on the edge constantly. The usual softness that he reserved specifically for you was... absent.
Still you wouldn't let that stop you from approaching; having dating him for a few years now let you know so much of that. You knew when he was hurting. When he was sad, angry, jealous or even happy. Little to no people could say that.
Somehow this was different. He wasn't even letting you in, constantly keeping you at arms length and that hurt. How were you supposed to get to him this time? Get him to talk to you?
To look at you again with that same glint in his eyes, the spark that you ignited in him and that won't fade away even years after.
The sound of a chair creaking startles you, the same time the timer in the kitchen goes off. You walk back, turning the oven off, and sticking out the apple pie you so happily baked for both with hopes that you'll get him loosen a bit that dark cloud that's been looming over Simon these past few days.
The door of his studio is yanked open the heavy stomp of his boots resonating across the small apartment you two share, then his bulky frame appears just to grab the keys to his black motorcycle.
"Simon!" You call him, burning your hand in the process. He stills halfway through the living room, waiting for you to say something else. Wetting a cloth hurriedly and wrapping it around the burnt skin.
"I made something for us... maybe," standing behind him you leave a reasonable space between the two. You swallow down hard. "Thought we could have it together and just, you know spend...-"
"I don't have time for that now." His voice is cold and monotone. "Don't wait for me."
"But Si-" he turns on his heels, eyes hard and unyielding. He approaches slowly, making you gulp. "What's gotten into you, Simon?" You fight back the tears, this was the man you loved so dearly, the man you knew loved you back; there was a reason for the golden engagement ring on your left hand. "I..-"
"Fucking hell would you stop that? Please just..." he notices the wetness in your eyes. "I can't do this. Not anymore."
"Whatever it is I promise we can work it out together!" your lips quivered. "Just talk to me!"
"I don't need to talk about anything girl!" He seethes, one finger pointing at you. "Think some cheap counseling with you will make things right? Bloody hell no. Neither some homemade bread, this isn't fucking working and it won't until you learn how the bloody world works."
It breaks your heart into a tiny million pieces, breathing becomes a challenge and the injury in your hand can no longer be felt. Simon's words were worse than any physical pain. Where was the man you loved? The man who used to lift you up and kiss you on the forehead? The man whose hands couldn't stop roaming your body late at night? The man who'd helped you reach out for things he probably put away in the highest shelf so you'd ask for help. That same man that had proposed to you no long ago, right before he was deployed to a special op God knows where. The fabric of his mask moves when he keeps talking but you don't listen. You can't. Just like you can't stop the tears dribbling down your cheeks and the tremble of your hands. Simon's jaw clenched, brows furrowed as he takes a step back and leaves.
You walk sluggishly to where the dessert awaits. It's when your knees buckle that you finally let out a loud cry.
-
Simon knows he isn't a good man. He's done quite questionable things that he could never say out loud. He knows he's fucked in so many ways. But he also knows that there's one thing that kept him from spiraling further down into an abyss of death and self-loathing.
You.
The woman he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The girl that didn't care about his past, the bad moments and his complicated persona. You who would selflessly love him without asking for something in return. What had you seen in him in first place? Even now after three years he can't wrap his head around the fact that he has someone who waits for him.
Simon knows how much he loves you, but what he doesn't know is how—or in what earth—he deserves every part of you.
You've been avoiding him ever since that horrible night. Words he can't take back. Looks that haunt him every time he closed his eyes. He hears you cry when you go to sleep or when you're taking a shower. Muffled sobs and wails that will come for him until the day he dies.
You avoid him like a plague, when he walks in. After all he's the one to blame. He wanted to ask you to tear him apart maybe that'd feel less painful.
The last remaining of sanity that was left in him came crashing down when he began to notice how you stared off in a haze, numbly looking at the window. He was losing you. Destroyed the one good thing he had. So, a few days later, despite his own demons. Despite the things that broke him all irreparably during the last mission in Moscow, he comes to find you. Sucking in a sharp breath as his eyes set on your left hand.
The engagement ring was gone, forgotten someplace unknown. Simon felt the panic wrenching his guts.
It's all on him.
He whispers your name, calls you softly. Slowly sitting in front of you, the coffee table creaks under his weight. Words get caught in his throat.
"May I take your hand?" He pleads, not getting an answer. Simon sighs, lowering his head as silent reigns yet again. "I don't deserve you." He murmurs, eyes bored into the floor. "I... I ruin everything I touch. Just never thought I'd ruin my girl."
Your eyes flutter shut, wet tears clinging to your eyelashes. Simon watches as you stand and leave without a word, he follows close behind to your shared room.
"Love..."
"Don't call me that!" the hurt in your voice... the resentment in your eyes, he's earned it.
Simon reaches out for your arm, grabbing you firmly but gently, mindful not to harm you.
"Right I deserve that." If there's one thing Simon regrets it's being the reason that your eyes no longer shine. "What I said... what happened I...-"
Shaking your head and biting down your lip.
"You never gave me the chance, I thought we said we'd always find a way."
"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry baby." in an instant he's pulling you close, although you want to push him away, scream at him, slap him for the calvary he made you go through. "I'm not good with words, and I'm no good person." You feel his body shaking with anxiety as your eyes widen in shock. "I tried... I can't forgive myself for my mistakes."
"Simon..." he hushed you, cradling your head with his big hand. "I can't sleep knowing I can't protect you from what's out there, couldn't bloody protect that kid in Moscow, or my family."
You guide him to the bed, sitting down side by side and holding onto each other.
"Said I would always be with you Simon, why the hell did you push me away?! Have I not given my everything to you? We promised to always make it work!" He grabs your face staring intently into your eyes. "What happened there?"
He blinks, deciding how much to say. There was no need for you to know the entirety of it. He wanted to shield you from the horrors of this world, and he would as long as he lived.
"A young lad whose life's was cut short because I wasn't there on time. How can I come back to you, be happy when someone else just lost their kid..."
"That wasn't on you! Simon Riley you stop that now." He inhales, cinnamon and vanilla flooding his senses. It's you all of you. "Stop carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. We do that together, yeah?" Your chest hurts from how hard it's beating. "You've done far so much. You won't lose me."
A rumble in the sky and cars passing by outside your home is all you hear. Brown eyes like honey stare back into your soul.
"You took it off..."
"I burnt my hand, it wasn't healing properly. And you know what?" He quirks a brow. "It wasn't homemade bread. It was an apple pie, you silly."
"You'll never forgive me for that one won't you?" He doesn't chuckle but the air feels lighter.
"No. Probably won't." Simon takes your burnt hand bringing it to his lips, they're soft against the marred skin.
"But we're still getting married, yeah?" He asks.
You smile fondly, humming when he kisses your forehead, tears have now dried.
"Yeah. We're still getting married."
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joelsgreys · 1 year
Text
lean on me
Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader
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series masterlist
summary: It's been three months since you and Joel left your baby daughter with Bill and Frank in Lincoln; you aren't coping well and Joel tries to help you get through it.
pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA ((TW)) though it is not explicitly stated, it is implied reader is suffering from postpartum depression. mentions of being unable to breastfeed. angst, hurt, comfort, tiniest hint of fluff at the end.
word count: 3.7k
a/n: this was only meant to be a short drabble, but it ended up getting longer than i anticipated. sorry for more angst.
September, 2020
Joel had known things would get bad.
But he hadn’t expected for them to get this fucking bad.
He glanced across the table at Tess, quietly asking, “She eat today?”
Tess let out a small sigh, shaking her head. “Nope.” She picked up her chipped, ceramic mug and took a sip of crappy, two decades old dark roast coffee and stated, “She didn’t eat anything yesterday, either. Or the day before that or the one before that. I can barely get her to take a fucking sip of water these days.”
“Fuckin’ hell, Tess! We can’t just sit around watchin’ her starve herself,” he hissed at her, his hands curling into fists on the table. 
She shot him an irritated look. “You think I don’t know that already?”
“Tess—”
“What are we going to do, Joel? Pin her down and force feed her?”
Joel’s jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in a tight, thin line. He glanced over at you with a heavy, sinking feeling inside of his chest at the mere sight of your current state. 
You were sitting on the bed in the same pair of gray sweatpants you’d been wearing for the last couple of days, your knees pulled up to your chest as you stared blankly, vacantly, out of the window beside you at absolutely nothing. You were beginning to appear frail—the current tone of your skin was so dull, so washed out that anybody who took one glance at you would probably think that you had spent your entire life locked away in some basement, never having seen the fucking sunshine before. The pallor of your skin was only emphasized by the dark, bruise-like circles underneath your eyes, courtesy of the long and sleepless nights you’d been having, especially lately. 
You had fallen deep into a sadness, a darkness—one so deep that you had become nothing but a mere shadow of your former self. You were an empty shell of a human being and it was starting to scare the fucking shit out of Joel. 
“Maybe if we took her to see the baby?” Tess suggested, quietly. She took another sip of her coffee and then set her mug down. “Frank has been wondering why you two haven’t been over there to see her. Hell, even Bill is curious why I’ve been going over there alone.” After having done some digging around, Tess managed to find someone in the QZ who had helped her get her hands on homemade infant formula; it was worth gold and only ever went to officials of a higher ranking who could actually afford it. Somehow, she’d pulled a few strings and the next thing Joel knew, Tess was loading a pack full of cans to take over to Lincoln. She’d made a couple more trips since then, and each time, she had gone alone. “It’s been over three months, Joel. Maybe it’s finally time—maybe it would help her.”
“In her condition?” Joel shook his head, adamantly. “No. For one, she wouldn’t fuckin’ make it a mile down the road before collapsing—from exhaustion, from starvation, you name it. And even if she could make the trip somehow, the truth is, she’s not ready to see her.” He lowered his voice to keep you from overhearing him, although at this point, he was certain that you were too zoned out to even pay attention. Every word was probably going in through one ear and out the other. “I hate to say it, but she’s just not strong enough to see her yet, Tess.”
“And what about you, Texas? What’s your excuse?”
He glared at her. “You really think I can leave her here alone in a state like this while we go skippin’ off to Lincoln together?”
“Good point.” Tess paused and peered curiously at him. “You haven’t even told her what they named her, have you?”
“Don’t think that’s such a good idea right now, either.” Joel held back a heavy sigh as he looked down into his own mug of shitty coffee. A huge part of him wished that she hadn’t told him what Bill and Frank ended up naming the baby. Since then, his daughter’s name echoed in the back of his mind, over and over again, damn near constantly.
“Joel, if we don’t do something, she’s going to wind up—” Tess could see his jaw clench again and she stopped herself, choosing her words more carefully. “She’s walking on thin ice. She’s not eating, she’s not sleeping. She’s already been in lockup twice this week alone because she can’t even keep up with work detail anymore. I know this is hard for you to hear, but if something doesn’t change soon, things are only going to get worse from here—she’ll get worse. You’re the only one of the two of us who actually has a chance of getting through to her and you need to fucking do something.”
“Tess, I’ve tried—”
“Well fucking try harder, Joel. If you don’t, you’ll fucking lose her. You know that, right?”
“I know.” Joel rubbed his face tiredly with both of his hands. He knew it was nothing but the truth that she was speaking, but goddamn the truth fell onto his shoulders heavy, almost too heavy. It felt as though he were carrying the weight of the entire fucking planet. But she was right. If something wasn’t done, he was going to lose you. “Tess, you mind if I have a minute alone with her?”
She nodded and took one last gulp of coffee before standing up from the table. “Yeah. I have to go see Robert and a couple of his buffoons about something anyway.” As she walked past him towards the door, she stopped and tossed him a pointed look. “Maybe today is the day that you finally decide to give her that thing that you’ve been carrying around in your pocket,” she suggested. “We went through a lot of shit for it, Joel. It’s the reason we have been drinking crappier coffee than usual for the last two weeks.”
He nodded, watching her as she grabbed her jacket and left.
After a minute or two, Joel finally pushed himself away from the table and rose to his feet. He made his way over to you, and he wasn’t even the slightest bit surprised at how you didn’t turn to acknowledge him despite the sound of his heavy boots on the creaking hardwood floor. He said your name as he came closer to you, but you remained as still as a stone statue, your eyes still fixed outside of the window.
“Alright,” he said, standing next to you at the side of the bed, both of his hands placed firmly on his hips. “Enough is fuckin’ enough. I can’t and I won’t let you keep carryin’ on like this. Either you get up and get your ass over to that table and eat somethin’ or I’m going to pick you up off of this bed, take you over there, and feed you myself. And don’t think I won’t. I’ll tie you down to the chair if that’s what I’ve gotta do.”
Finally, you turned to look at him. You spoke, your voice sounding just as fragile as you looked. “I’m not hungry.”
Joel’s expression immediately softened.
Fuck. 
He couldn’t be tough on you, not in the state you were in—he thought being hard on you would be the way to get through to you, but he just didn’t have it in him to be stern with you, not when you were like this.
“Baby. Please.” He knelt down beside you, reaching for your hand. He winced at how frigid your hand felt in his palm, as if he were holding a block of ice. He brought his other hand up and placed it on top, doing his best to warm it up with both of his. “Look, I get it. I know that you miss her. I know that you’re hurtin’ over her. You might not think I get it, but I do.” He paused, feeling sick to his stomach upon noticing the lifelessness in your eyes. He almost wished that he could see you cry, because at least he would know for certain that you were still in there somewhere—but Joel hadn’t seen you shed a single tear since you’d broken down sobbing in his arms that night in Lincoln. “You just can’t keep goin’ on like this. You don’t eat, you’ve barely slept in weeks. You keep fallin’ behind with all your work assignments and you’ve landed yourself in lockup more times than I can fuckin’ count because of it.”
You simply shrugged, as if you couldn’t give two shits about any of it.
Joel managed to bite back his sigh of frustration. He knew that losing his temper would do nothing more than sink you further into the hole you were currently in. But he was angry. He was just so fucking angry about about everything. Here you were, just slipping right through his fucking fingers, slowly fading away right before his own two eyes and he didn’t know what to do to stop it from happening. He felt lost. He felt hopeless—useless. 
He squeezed your hand out of desperation. He would fucking plead if he had to. “I need you to fuckin’ snap out of it. Please,” he begged, as he continued holding your hand tightly, holding onto it as if he were holding onto dear life itself. “Please, for the love of fuckin’ god, I need you to just snap out of it. If not for yourself, fuckin’ do it for me—do it for her.”
“Snap out of it?” You repeated. “You want me to just snap out of it?”
“Baby, please just listen to me for one goddamn second—”
You snatched your hand out of both of his. “I can’t just fucking snap out of it, Joel!” You nearly shouted at him, speaking the loudest he’d heard you speak in several weeks. “Alright? I can’t snap out of it! My heart is shattered into pieces, don’t you fucking understand that?”
“‘Course I do. Givin’ her up was hard for me too,” he reminded you quietly, resisting the urge to match your tone. 
“And I don’t deny that,” You prefaced yourself. “I know it was hard on you too, Joel. But you’re not the one who came this close, this damn fucking close to aborting her.” You held up your index finger and your thumb close together. You’d started trembling as everything seemed to catch up to you all at once—sleep deprivation, malnourishment and of course, the emotions you had been bottling up inside of you for the last three months. “You’re not the one who carried her inside of your womb for almost nine months, who felt every one of her flutters and her kicks. You’re not the one who had to go through the excruciating pain of giving birth to her in this crumbling apartment, only to have to place her in someone else’s arms and leave her behind three days later. You’re not the one who had to deal with the aftermath, Joel. Do you know how much it fucking hurt not to be able to feed her? How much it fucking sucked to have to wait for your milk supply to dry up because you no longer had a baby to feed?”
For the first time in a long time, Joel was left speechless. 
He didn’t know what to say. Hell, there was nothing he could say.
Because you were absolutely fucking right.
None of what you’d just said to him was a lie. Of course he knew that giving the baby up had been a hundred times harder on you than it’d been on him—mentally, emotionally, and even physically. He thought back to the nights when he would see you sitting there with your own arms wrapped around your chest, knowing you were aching, knowing that although you said nothing about it, you were in unbearable pain from being unable to breastfeed. 
And what could he do about it?
Not a goddamn fucking thing.
Still, Joel had tried. He always made the attempt to comfort you, only to be shot down time and time again. He’d been so used to being the one who rejected any kind of support that, when the tables had been turned on him, he hadn’t known how to handle it. Joel could feel the guilt slowly creeping in as he wondered if perhaps he just hadn’t tried hard enough for you. He was your partner—it was his duty to take care of you, to look out for you, to protect you, and yet here he was, failing to do any of that. 
He could have done more. 
He should have done more.
Especially after all the friction he’d caused from the beginning of your pregnancy. From letting you go to those crooked motherfuckers for a procedure that could have cost you your life, down to the way he had treated you the night you’d brought up Sarah, it seemed as though all Joel had been doing was fucking up, time after time. 
Seeing the expression on Joel’s face, you immediately knew what he must have been thinking. Your eyes widened and you quickly uttered a nearly breathless apology. “Joel, I’m so fucking sorry—”
He stopped you, tightly shaking his head. “No, don’t be. It’s true, it’s all fuckin’ true.”
Finally, after three months of bone-dry eyes, a warm tear slipped out, falling down the side of your face. Your entire body shuddered as the flood gates opened and more followed in suit, each one falling faster, harder than the last. The next thing you knew, Joel had pulled himself up onto the mattress beside you, pulling you into his arms just as you had started sobbing. With one hand, he delicately cradled the back of your head as you cried and cried into his shoulder. The other rubbed a soothing circle into your back over and over again. 
And just like that night in Lincoln, Joel just held you, waiting patiently as you finally allowed yourself to release each and every single one of your emotions out into the open. He didn’t say a word to you, nor did he attempt to stop the tears—he just held you close, merely using his touch to silently let you know that he would wait as long as he had to until you were finished.
“Joel,” You sniffed his name, your hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt.
“I’m right here, baby,” he assured you, holding you even closer against him, as close as humanly possible. His heartbeat was right in your ear and you closed your eyes, listening to it and letting it calm you. “I told you I wasn’t gonna let you carry this pain alone, darlin’. You remember that?”
You nodded against his chest, whispering, “I remember.”
“Well then, you’ve gotta let me help you,” Joel said into your hair. “For three months, I’ve been tryin’ but you just keep pushin’ me away. It doesn’t work like that. I need you to lean on me. I need for you to let me back in and help you because the road you’re headin’ down right now is a dangerous one.” 
Opening your eyes, you pulled away from him slightly, just far enough to meet his worried gaze. You could see the absolute fucking hell that you had been putting him through and felt your heart clench painfully inside of your chest. “I know I can’t keep going on like this, Joel,” You admitted softly to him. “Believe me, I know that. I tried so hard to get a fucking grip. There have been so many days where I think to myself, today is the day that I’m going to get my shit together. But then I just think of her sweet and innocent little face and I just fall apart all over again.” You muffled another sob with the palm of your hand.
“Oh, baby.” He gave your body a gentle, but firm squeeze. If he could take your pain away, all of it, and carry it along with his own, he would do it in a fucking heartbeat. 
You swallowed harshly. “I know she is far better off where she is, Joel, I know that she is. I never want her falling into the hands of FEDRA. It kills me to think of her being here in this shitty fucking place, going to their shitty fucking school.” Your voice broke at the mere thought of it all. “We know what would happen, Joel. As soon as she comes of age and meets their requirement, they will put her through their recruiting program. After her training, they either deem her worthy of becoming a fucking ruthless officer or they will give her the shittiest civilian jobs making her work for scraps of nothing, the same way they do to us.”
Joel sighed, rubbing your back again. “I know, baby. I know. It’s why we did what we did. We did what we had to do to spare her from that shit.”
“But then there’s this selfish part of me that wants her back so badly, so fucking badly that it makes me fucking ache,” You confessed, guilt lacing your tone of voice. “I just want the hurt to stop. I want to be at peace with the decision that we made, but the way I miss her, it feels almost impossible. I feel like I’ll never be able to accept that this is the way things have to be.”
“You have to accept it—we have to accept it. We ain’t got a choice,” Joel spoke the truth to you as gently as he could, though he knew it wouldn’t make a difference.
“I know,” You whispered, your eyes glazing over with fresh tears.
He stared at you for a moment and then pressed his lips against your forehead. Deciding it was time to show you what he’d been keeping a secret from you, Joel reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small, crumpled up wad of brown tissue paper. With one of his arms still around you, he used both of his hands to unwrap the tissue paper only to reveal a delicate silver chain—a bit too old to be shiny, but still in good shape nonetheless. Joel picked it up and tossed the tissue off to the side. He held it up in front of you to give you a better look at it. 
A single white pearl hung from the chain. 
“Joel, where did you get this?” You gasped lightly, taking it from him with trembling fingers. You didn’t even want to know what the hell he must have had to do or trade for it. Sure, jewelry was one of the most useless items that anyone could possess in this world because it no longer had any monetary value, but if someone wanted something bad enough and another person had it, then advantage was going to be taken somewhere, somehow. 
“Don’t you worry ‘bout that, darlin’.”
You glanced up at him, an incredulous look in your eyes. “Joel.”
He almost chuckled, knowing you wouldn't let him off that easy. “I’d mentioned to Tess that I wanted to get you somethin’ special to carry around with you, somethin’ that would remind you of her. Tess said a pearl was the birthstone for June, and so I asked her to help me find one a few weeks ago. She found some guy and I cut a deal for it. But that’s all I’m tellin’ you.”
Joel took the necklace from you and beckoned for you to turn around for him. Moving your hair aside, he reached around you and clasped it at the back of your neck. “I’d rather only you wear it when you’re here in the apartment. Once you go outside, it stays hidden in your pocket so no one sees it, alright?”
You turned back around to face him. “I don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe you did this for me, Joel.” You reached for his hands and held them tightly in your own as you shot him a sincere, grateful look. “Thank you.”
He leaned forward, lightly brushing his mouth against yours. “Baby?”
“Yes?” You murmured against his lips.
Joel squeezed your hands, hesitating for a moment before he said, “I know I’ve only ever said it to you once—that night. Outside of Bill and Frank’s place. But I need you to know that I love you. The truth is, I’ve been lovin’ you for a long time now. Never had it in me to admit it, not even to myself.” His eyes met yours in such a tender way that you felt a part of your broken heart begin to heal itself. It was just a small part, and you knew that unless you had your daughter back, it would never mend itself completely. Still, it was enough to give you a sense of hope. It was just enough to remind you that you would be able to find the strength in you to survive this pain. If you had any reason to keep going, it was right there it front of you. It was Joel. “I love you. I’m gonna do everythin’ that I can to help you through this. All you’ve gotta do is lean on me, alright?”
“I love you, Joel.” Though you’d said it to him once before, it still felt a bit foreign to say out loud.
It felt right, though. And it felt right hearing him say it to you. 
Reaching up, you lightly clasped the pearl in your hand. You leaned into Joel’s chest and felt him wrap his arms around you. 
“Y’know,” Joel said, breaking the momentary silence that had fallen over you, “Tess said Frank’s been wondering why we haven’t been over to see her yet. I know it might still be a bit too soon for you, but—” He let his sentence trail.
Though he didn’t say it out loud, you could hear it in his voice.
He wanted to see the baby.
“I’m not ready for that just yet,” You admitted. “I want to see her more than anything, but look at me. I’m a fucking mess.” You paused, clutching onto the pearl a little tighter. “Maybe we can try in a few weeks? What do you think?”
Joel kissed the top of your head. “Soon as you’re ready, say the word and we’ll go.”
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cheolhub · 1 year
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LOVE SCENE — LEE SEOKMIN ࿐
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summary. you’re scared that seokmin might want to go separate ways after graduation, but he proves, in more ways than one, that he wants you. forever.
wc. 2.3k
warnings. college au. nerdy soft dom!seokmin, breeding kink xx, obscene amounts of dirty talk, pinch of angst, literal love making, unprotected sex, marriage kink, HEAVY praise, baby talk, v minimal plot im sorry — MINORS DNI 18+
note. DAMN ok i have a lot to say so i’ll keep it short. ONE this was a request but like i kinda didn’t do anything the request asked for and im so sorry, i hope u can forgive me anon. TWO i literally lost sight of the plot so dont ask me abt any missing details ehehb just enjoy seok being hot <3 THREE happy belated birthday to my minnie <3 FOUR thank u to my luvr @rkiv4d for beta-ing. yas ok enjoy
p.s. reblogs and feedback are extremely appreciated— i also love to hear ur thoughts <3
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how seokmin pulled you, the most beautiful girl to ever walk the earth, he has no clue. he’s what people call a ‘nerd’ with his thick-rimmed glasses and his abnormally high IQ and you’re the pretty girl that didn’t understand the simplicity of covalent and ionic bonds who fell head over heels for him. 
you couldn’t help it, he was so smart and so fucking pretty. he was awkward and he giggled when he got nervous and he was so unbelievably goofy that it had you laughing till you cried. nevertheless, he was the most beautiful man ever. 
then you asked him out. he remembers it like it was yesterday. the last day of your chem class– the end of the first semester of your sophomore year– right after your final. you thanked him incessantly, giving him a hug for helping you get a B in the class. you told him you’d rather thank him another way— another way being a date. with you. at your place with a homemade dinner. 
he would’ve been stupid to decline. so he didn’t. and the rest was history. seokmin became your boyfriend, grew more confident in himself, and fell in love with you.
now you’re in your final year, the last few weeks approaching quickly, and you’ve been anxious. anxious about seokmin leaving you, anxious about going separate ways after graduation, anxious that this was all just fun and games till it was time to get serious about life.
seokmin has picked up on your behavioral patterns over the past 2 years. he knows you so well, probably better than anyone else in your life– probably better than he knows himself. 
so when seokmin sees you evading his eyes with his cock stretching you open, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 
“hey,” he whispers, stilling inside of you. when you don’t turn your head and your eyes are still closed, he calls for you. “baby?”
you feel your heart clench at the pet name. “hmm?” you hum.
“baby, do you not wanna do this anymore?” he questions worriedly, ready to pull away from you. “i can pull out.”
you mumble, “i-i do.” 
he cocks his head even more confused, “talk to me, pretty, what’s going on?”
he pushes into you some more, making you gasp and you can feel his expectant eyes burning holes into your face. you then realize he’s not gonna let this go, but it’s partially your fault for letting your mind wander while he was putting away the dinner you guys ate. you decide to just come out with it.
“‘m just… so scared of graduating…” you whimper between your words, eyes screwing tighter. 
he hums, “look at me, baby.” the demand comes out so soft, yet the sheer dominance of his voice makes you clench around him. you turn your head on the pillow, opening your eyes, and finally looking at him. “why?”
you shudder at the eye contact. he looks so pretty, so concerned over you, yet you’re still tense and oh-so nervous. the topic of post-grad has never come up, and now you’re mid-fuck about to tell him how you want to be with him forever. 
“i-i’m scared that… that you’re gonna go off without me,” you pant, hands wrapping around his biceps and holding him to keep you stable. 
“where am i gonna go, beautiful?” he whispers, bottoming out and fully sheathing himself inside of you. 
you whimper again, his massive cock filling you so well. “s-scared you’re gonna go do big things ‘n leave me…” 
he freezes at that, eyes widening, “leave you?” he asks incredulously as if he couldn’t believe that you’d ask that question. “baby, you think i’d leave you?” 
you nod slowly. “i dunno, ‘s just that i’ve been thinking ‘n you’re so smart– gonna go get a real job that’s across the country or something…” 
he’s honestly bewildered. why would you ever think something like that when he’s tried so hard to show you how much he loves you every single day?
“oh, baby, i would never fucking leave you.” he presses his forehead yours, nose rubbing against yours. “pretty fucking thing, i adore you— love you. more than anything.”
your eyes glisten with tears at the reassurance. you feel yourself relax under him, entirely fluttering at his words. “really?”
“yes, really. how can i prove it to you? want me to put a ring on your finger?” he whispers, breath fanning against your face. 
you gasp, clenching around him again, fingers digging into his muscles. he smiles, chuckling airly at your reaction. 
“my pretty baby wants that? you like that idea?” he asks, his sultry voice filling your ears. “you wanna be my wife?”
you nod your head, eyes fluttering shut as you moan, “yeah, w-wanna be your wife.” 
your response has seokmin reeling. he pulls his hips back and slams back into you making both of you moan again. 
“yeah? bet you want my kids, too.” he states boldly, mind cringing at his words and internally freaking out that you’ll get turned off at them. 
you choke, clamping tightly around his length. “f-fuck.” you cry. “d-don’t say things like that, seok.”
“why? ‘cuz i’m right?” he grunts, thrusts growing faster.
you nod your head and seokmin nearly cries, cock twitching at the idea of pumping you full of cum and getting you pregnant with his kids. you’d be such a great mom and he’d love having a mini-seok running around a nice, big house fit to take a family. 
admittedly, he’s been wanting to talk about his future with you. he’s been fantasizing about it since the first time he said he loved you. fantasizing about you being his wife and living together in a big house and having three kids and living happily ever after as if it were some fairytale. he’s imagined your kids and how they would be a constant reminder of his everlasting love for you. he hopes that they’ll look like both of you– kids with your eyes and his nose. he’d kill for that.
“wanna put a baby in you,” he mumbles, lips ghosting over yours. “swear to god, ‘m gonna give you everything you want– ‘ll get you a ring ‘n a house– everything. just say the word.”
you lift your head to press your lips to his, moaning into his mouth like a mad woman. your stomach drops in anticipation, suddenly craving the feeling of his warm cum filling you to the brim, sure to get you pregnant. your legs wrap around him, heels digging into his back and you can’t resist the cry that he ends up swallowing at the new angle. 
seokmin pulls back, panting, “gonna let me give it to you, baby?” 
“uh-huh!” you nod, eyes screwing shut and jaw going slack as his speed increases. “yes, yes, please give it to me.” your response is wavered as you nearly choke on a sob of pleasure. 
and you know the decision is haste– a baby even though you still have a month left of undergrad seems… absurd to say the very least, but you don’t need to think about anything. you know seokmin. you know he’s the one you want to spend the rest of your life with. he's an amazing boyfriend and person in general. you already know he’d make an even more amazing husband and father. 
who would’ve thought the nerdy man with glasses who was insanely good at chemistry would be the one you ended up with?
he lets out a guttural moan, “such a good girl, always saying please.” he praises, slamming into your sweet spot repeatedly.
and jesus fucking christ, your moans and cries are like music to his fucking ears. 
his head falls into your neck, licking and sucking at your skin. “never gonna leave, i promise. gonna make you mine, gonna take care of you.” he mumbles into the skin as he continues to mark and ravage you. 
the stimulation and his words are sending you into orbit as your stomach churns and tightens at the feeling of his cock rearranging your insides. his strokes are impressive, never missing a beat and unrelentingly hitting the spot that makes you crumble. 
he feels you tighten around him, gummy walls squeezing him in and he curses, “shit, is my pretty girl gonna cum already?” his voice borders on condescending, but it only makes the tightrope in your stomach all the more closer to completely unraveling. 
“y-yeah, so close,” you moan breathily as your pants increase, chest rising and falling rapidly. “so fuckin’ close, min, ‘m gonna cum.”
his lips find your ear and he whispers hotly against the shell, “come on, baby, cum for me so i can fill you up.” he gently tugs at your earlobe with his teeth and you can’t resist, back arching with a shiver running down your spine.
your orgasm brings you immense pleasure, white spots filling your vision as you cum with a loud sob. you feel it in your entire body, from your curled toes to your thrown back head. your eyes roll back, calling out his name and raking your nails down the skin of his arms. 
he coos, holding back a groan at the way you get even tighter as you soak him in arousal. “thaaat’s it, baby, just like that. so, so good for me.” he coaxes you through your euphoric high, fucking you through it as he always does. 
“s-so good,” you slur, parroting his words as your mind numbs a bit. 
he moans, letting the sound of your whimpers and the lewd sounds of your bodies meeting fill the room. he buries his head in your neck again, desperately rutting into you so he can let go, too. your eyes flutter closed again and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer to you. 
your overstimulated pussy pulses around him as you listen and whine along to your lover's muffled moans. you can tell he’s close. so close to giving you the life you’ve imagined for almost 2 years. so close to being yours forever. 
“seok, cum inside me,” you whisper and his hips stutter, yet they keep moving as if they have a mind of their own. he lifts his head and looks at you– his eyes are clouded over and teary, yet they’re filled with all the love in the world.
he looks so beautiful above you. his face is scrunched up in pleasure, brows knitted, eyes droopy, mouth hung open as pretty sounds exit his loose lips.
“i… fucking love you…so much.” he says in between pants, thrusts growing sloppy. the telltale signs of his fast approaching orgasm becoming heavily apparent. “god, so much, baby, love you so much.”
you nod your head, mirroring his pleasured face. “me too, seok, i love you.” your words are a bit scrambled, but seokmin makes sense of them– understands you so well. 
his eyes roll back a bit at your response, brain momentarily malfunctioning, but he comes back seconds later. “gonna take this load like a good girl, right, pretty? gonna get pregnant and let me marry you?” he moans out breathily, cock now twitching uncontrollably. 
“yes, yes, yes, please, wan’ it so bad!” you beg.
it’s all he needs to press his hips to yours, stilling there, and releasing inside of you while he moans out your name so prettily. it’s a newfound feeling for both of you– his cum coating your cunt, filling you up till it’s spilling on his freshly washed sheets. he’s grown accustomed to finishing on your skin or into a condom, but this? this is all very new. this is something he now can’t live without.
you think the same thing when you feel him spraying your walls with his thick ropes of cum. it feels so good– so euphoric– while it’s leaking out of you. you don’t know how you’ve gone your entire adult life without experiencing this at least once.  
“c-came so much, baby…” you whimper, feeling him pull his cock out of you. 
as soon as he sees his release dripping out of you, he groans softly, already feeling hard again, but he decides to ignore it for now, bringing his attention back to you.
“hey… love,” he says softly, noticing the way you perk up a bit from your tired state just at the sound of your name. “you should’ve told me you felt like that… i hate that you thought i’d just leave you ‘cause we won’t be in school anymore.”
you frown, “i’m sorry, i didn’t know how to bring it up without being awkward… it’s the real world and i dunno… things are different.”
he sighs, hands running up and down your naked sides. “i get it, but like i said, i wanna be with you forever.”
you blush, biting your lip to hide the wide grin that ends up on your face despite the fact. “yeah, i remember… was that a proposal by the way?” you ask meekly. 
he squeezes at your waist, “did you want it to be?” he beams.
“i mean, it was a bit untraditional, definitely not how i expected my wedding proposal to be.” 
“what? you mean you didn’t think you’d get proposed to while i had my dick inside you?” he asks with faux incredulity. “i, for one, thought this was the best proposal ever. i even put a lil baby in you.”
you giggle, wrapping your legs around his body again, “you don’t know that, i’m not pregnant… yet.”
his heart swells at the idea and he smiles brightly at your blushy face, “well, maybe another round can change that, hmm?”
you pull him closer to you by the strength of your legs and say, “make me yours then, seokmin.”
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© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.
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bluewxrld07 · 2 months
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Hurt My Feelings (Ethan Edwards)
Warning(s): mutual pining, angst, cheating, making out, groping/touching
Ethan Edwards x femalebff!reader (there's also a little bit of Luke Hughes x reader oops ;) )
Summary: Based off of Tate McRae's song Hurt My Feelings :)
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She wears your number, but I've got what you like
She's got you right now, but I'm still on your mind
The rink was cold. It always was. No matter how many times she's sat in one, whether it was for a tournament or for just one game, she still was cold no matter what.
She was wearing her UMich gear; supporting a hockey sweatshirt in the the familiar navy blue with yellow lettering underneath her jacket, a pair of grey jogger sweats with their team logo, a UMich hat, and a pair of UMich mittens made by the famous Edwards mother herself. A gift from her two birthdays ago after learning y/n would be attending the same college with Ethan.
Y/n found her seat in the third row opposite from the benches, wrapping her blanket around her legs as she sat. Once she was situated, she looked around the arena, watching as people piled into their seats. Some making their way down to the glass to watch the boys warmups up close.
That's when her eyes stopped and did a double take, following back to the familiar head of platinum blonde hair standing right behind the glass, standing directly across the rink from where y/n was sitting. She wore the oh so familiar home jersey with the number 73 on her back, with leather skinny jeans.
Her makeup looking a tad too overdone, a large sign sitting front of her and her friends with a thirst quote written out on it in big letters. The chomping of the girl's gum also being very noticeable. Y/n fought the urge to roll her eyes as she watched Ethan's girlfriend rave with her friends, probably bragging and talking about the boy himself.
Ethan was not someone who enjoyed signs with messages such as the one written on his girlfriend's board. Course the signs were fine when it was younger kids coming to watch, but he always said it looked desperate.
When y/n and him would lay outside talking about life, he always stated that he would want his future girlfriend to be the one sitting in the stands with his family. Not the one behind the glass with a cliche sign. Sure he didn't mind it when it came to fans, but when it was his girlfriend, it was a different story.
He wanted to be able to come out for warmups, search for her and smile when he did. Be able to look up at her every so often in between drills, waving, making gestures, mouthing something out to her, anything like that.
Y/n was lost in her thoughts when Ethan's mom's voice rung out happily. "Ugh I'm so glad you made it before me! I thought I was gonna be too late and we wouldn't get our usual spots." she jokes, a large smile on her face as she sat next to the college girl pulling her in for a bear hug.
She supported a homemade sweatshirt customized with her son's number and name on the sides of the sleeves, mittens with 73 on both of them as well as a UMich tie blanket.
"You know me, I like to be early thanks to always having parents fashionably late to everything," y/n chuckles as they pulled away from one another.
Ethan's mom gave her a look, knowing exactly what she meant. "Oh sweetheart trust me I know. Why do you think I always tell your parents an earlier time nowadays? So then they're actually on time to things."
"Yeah no kidding. I'm always the one stressing."
As the pair talked, the seats and the edges around the glass began to fill with students and fans. Before they knew it the music started to blare out, cheers increasing as the teams came out for warmups.
Y/n clapped alongside the elder woman, the pair still conversing as they watched the boys skate around the ice.
Y/n's eyes fell to the familiar head of brown hair poking out of the helmet he wore, watching as he shot into the net a few times. Not6 long after did her eyes find his girlfriend once again, seeing the girl bouncing up and down like a toddler and banging on the glass eyeing Ethan as he skated around.
She watched as her and her friends banged on the glass and shook the sign made, trying to get him to notice it.
"She's absolutely embarrassing." y/n hears next to her, looking over to Ethan's mom, whom has a disgusted look on her face while staring at the platinum head of hair across the rink.
"Not a fan of her?" she asks, watching the woman shake her head immediately.
"I tried giving her a chance. I truly did. But she is just not anywhere near his type. Or even respectful for that matter," she admits while shaking her head, finding her song back on the ice. "She got drunk at dinner with us the first time we met her. The second time we met her she got into an argument with my husband." Shay says.
Y/n stays silent and just chuckles lightly, focusing back to the boys on the ice.
Ethan peers up at the stands, scanning them before his eyes find her own. He smiles largely with a goofy smile and nods his head up as if saying 'what up'. Y/n feels her face heat up, butterflies in her stomach.
She nods back at him with a humored smile playing on her lips. His gaze falling to his mom next to her blowing her a kiss. She smiles warmly at her son and sends a million kisses back and cheers for him, watching his focus go back to drills.
Y/n wanted to take that and rub it in his girlfriends face, whom was still desperately trying to get his attention. Yet she was better than that, so she just stayed content in her seat as she watched the boys.
After a while, it was nearing the end of their warmups as her and the older woman had small talk about how school has been. They kept their eyes on the team in front of them, soon seeing Ethan skate up towards the glass on their side of the rink, eyeing y/n whom looked at him with a questioning expression.
He points towards the tunnel where they came from as if saying to meet him over there, her nodding immediately as she unwrapped herself from her cocoon.
She tells the woman next to her she will be right back, the woman shooing her off with a knowing smile.
Y/n makes her way down the steps towards the tunnel, feeling a certain blonde's eyes on her, making her try to hide a humored grin on her face. Ethan skates over slowly and greets some of the younger kids waiting by the entrance for the players.
She leans over the railing with a small smile on her face, watching as he makes his way towards her removing his helmet to look at her clearly.
He reaches his hand up as she re moves her mitten and reaches her own hand down, doing their little handshake together.
"You cold over there Rudolph?" he jokes, earning and eyeball from her.
"Yeah yeah, haven't heard that one before." she scoffs and he laughs at her expression.
"You want to meet the guys and I for dinner afterwards? We might hit up Bell's Diner," he says, and she immediately feels her insides warm.
He's asking her to join him. Not the blonde who was insanely upset on the other side of the rink. Her.
"Yeah I might be up for it." she shrugs, earning a smack to her hand that still hung with his.
I should've known better, you should've known better than me
"Ow, okay, ow, Ethan! Stop that hurts!" Y/n cries out with a laugh, the boy now sitting on her as she was laying on the couch, video game controller in his hands.
"No you stay here." he laughs.
She squeaks out and tries poking at his sides to get him off of her, watching as he twitches from her hands. "Ethan I have class in like fifteen minutes! I swear if you don't get off of me, I'm-"
"What? You're in no place to call the shots, you can't move," he jokes out looking down at her in amusement. Her arms fall other sides, looking up at him with a scowl, then crosses her arms over he chest.
Ethan laughs down at her before unpausing his game, y/n's mouth dropping offendedly. She begins to huff and puff dramatically, her head turning away from him as her sighs get louder each time her ignores her.
Once she sees that her dramatic sighs are not doing the trick, she conjures up a devilish grin.
It's a few moments of silence, but then before Ethan knows it, the girl underneath him begins screaming. He immediately jumps up in surprise from the loud yell she conjures up, the girl now scrambling off the couch and up the stairs to get her bag for class.
She hears his footsteps coming up the staircase as well as the calls of her name with some empty joking threats such as ones like 'I'm gonna throw you into the pool' or her favorite, 'I will force you to play in my spot the next home game'.
She's zipping up her jacket and throwing her backpack over her shoulder by the time her reaches her, an amused smile on both their lips.
"Ethan, no." she giggles, watching him stalk closer to her. She puts her arms out to keep him away. Her breathing getting heavy in between laughs as he gets closer.
She finds herself backing into a wall, completely screwed now as he now stands directly in front of her. His hands find her waist while his eyes are piercing down into her own, a devilish smile on his lips.
The closeness between them made her insides churn with excitement and nervousness, unsure of what was next to come.
"I wanted to spend time with you," he drags out, she rolls her eyes. "I don't see you much anymore."
"I was here yesterday."
"Okay but still, You get so busy with classes this time of year, and I have Hockey. So I don't see you a ton." he says, leaning his forehead on her own, giving her waist a squeeze.
She swallows lightly, her breathing becoming heavy as her heart. pounds in her chest. "I miss you." he mutters, his eyes finding hers.
Her eyes look into his, their faces so close now. Her heart was yelling at her to close the distance, but her mind kept screaming back and chanting girlfriend girlfriend girlfriend.
She watched him close his eyes, his jaw clenching and unclenching.
Y/n closed her eyes tight, taking a deep breath before place a hand on his chest and lightly pushing him back. "I've gotta go Eddy." she sighs, and walks away from him.
Ethan stayed in his spot, her scent still there, captivating as ever. Once he hears the front door close, his head drops back as he lets out a groan and rubs his hand on his face.
"Fuck"
I'm tryna tell myself I'm gonna stay away from you
I should've known better, you've got a way that's gonna weigh-weigh on me
It was New Years Eve, and of course the Hockey team was throwing a big party. They threw one every year. Y/n always helped plan them, per Rutger and his girlfriends pleas.
This year made it harder for her to say yes. She's been avoiding Ethan as much as she can, ignoring his texts and calls. Trying to distance herself from the need she had for him inside. She thought she was doing what was best for the both of them. Their want and need for one another was climbing. So she put a stop to it. At least is trying to.
The Hockey house was definitely bumping, the time being eleven o'clock. So close to ball drop. Y/n accepted that she would either end up kissing some random guy at midnight, or better yet, nobody at all.
Each year, she wished for Ethan to be that one she kissed. To feel his lips on her own. Yet it always ended up being nobody.
Of course Ethan knew she never had a new years kiss, so he would place his lips on her cheek after midnight and claim that that could count as her new years kiss.
She doubted she would get that now. After she had been avoiding him like the plague, stating she was so busy with classes and homework. Or that she was too sick to answer the phone sometimes.
She knew Ethan would see right through her each time though. Even if he wouldn't admit it, he knew her well enough to know her tell when lying.
So now here she stood while So High by Doja Cat played, next to Rutger in a game of beer pong against a couple of the Football boys, in a dress that she felt was too short. But was complimenting her figure so good per Rutger's girlfriend.
She was tipsy, but not drunk. She really didn't feel like throwing up tonight, better yet not having to deal with being hungover the next morning. It was enough of a buzz that she was able to feel at ease, and let loose for the night.
Rutger pulled her in for a hug as they cheered, her sinking the Football guys' last cup watching as they chugged it down.
Y/n a sip of her own drink, Rutger saying he was going to take a break and dance with his girlfriend, Y/n nodding and shooing him away to go be with her.
The girl made her way through the crowd after she finished making another drink, the crowd dancing as if in slow motion with the colored lights flashing around.
As she took a sip of her drink, she stopped in her tracks seeing the familiar boy she had been avoiding.
He was dancing up against his girlfriend, the girl basically grinding all over him as he kissed her neck. One hand gripping the underside of her breast while the other stayed glued lowly on her hip.
Y/n rolled her eyes, feeling the bile in her throat as she looked around the room to find someone. She thought it would be better to try getting over Ethan, by getting under someone else.
The crowd cheered as Rude Boy by Rihanna began to blare through the speakers, her lips turning up into a smirk. Y/n downed the rest of her drink and set her cup down on a nearby table, her eyes finding a familiar pair of blonde, curly hair.
"Hughes," she calls over the music, his head snapping over and down to her with a smile. "What's goin on little y/n/n?" he says back.
He was leaning against a doorway while talking another buddy of his, she held her hands out for him. "Come dance with me Luke," she challenges, his eyes scanning her figure as he bit his lip. Luke hands his cup to his buddy, immediately sliding his hands into her own, watching her lips move and sing along to the lyrics of the song.
They found a spot in the crowd, her eyes still locked on his. Sure Luke was attractive, everything about him was. Which is why she didn't mind how it felt dancing up close with him.
His hands slid away from hers, the girl turning around so her back was up against his chest while his hands found home on her hips.
Her hands slid up over her stomach, to her waist, over her own breasts before finally reaching behind her and sliding them into Luke's hair. The pair swayed together to the music as she sang along to the lyrics, Luke's head falling to the crook between her neck and collarbone.
Luke was tall, only a had a couple inches on Ethan, but still pretty tall nonetheless. His head fell over her collarbone fully, his lips finding a spot right on the bone that made her sigh deeply and grip his hair tightly.
Her eyes began to search in the crowd for the familiar brunette, stopping when she found him with his girlfriend still in their same position.
His eyes, though, staring into her own. Y/n knew she had him in a trance now. Her lips still singing along to the lyrics.
But that's when something else snapped in her. Her eyes leaving Ethan's and looking back down to the boy who was breathing heavily into her neck.
"Lu," she breathes, the boy humming and squeezing her hips as an answer. "I need you to help me out." she admits and he nods, his eyes finding hers for a second. He watches her eye dart towards the brunette and his own girl, Luke's eyes slowly fading over to Ethan and the blonde.
Luke's chin sat softly on her shoulder as they still danced against one another. The boys stared back at one another, Ethan's eyes looking into his best friend's with warning, as if daring Luke to test him.
Luke was always one to help stir the pot if it needed to be. Especially when he knew how both y/n and Ethan felt about each other, but danced around it for many reasons.
So of course when Ethan gave him those eyes, Luke's mind was more than happy to push his best bud past his limits.
Y/n's stayed on Luke's side profile while he stared at Ethan with a smirk blooming onto his face. As they swayed, the bridge to the song came in and Luke's hands began to move. One hand slithered its way to y/n's throat and gripped lightly, causing her to sigh at his touch.
The other hand slithered up too, but stopping on her left breast, squeezing and toying with it over her dress. The feeling of Luke's hands in the right spots made y/n's head rolled back onto his shoulder as she let out a sigh mixed with a breathless moan.
She knew Luke was still staring back at Ethan, who still held eye contact with him as well, Ethan's nostrils flaring.
Luke's eyes broke their stare a moment later, finding home on the soft spot in the crook of her neck he found earlier. Ethan watched y/n's chest heaving up and down as his best friend touched her and kissed her like that.
"Shit, Lu," she sighs into Luke's ear. She could feel him poke her backside as they ground against one another. "Who knew you knew what you were doing." she chuckles breathlessly, earning a hum from the curly headed boy.
"Gotta do what I gotta do to pull his head out of his ass, huh?" he says back to her, his head lifting up to stare back at her.
His hand left her throat, and began to slide down her waist, her hips, to her thighs, his hand moving towards her inner thigh and sliding back up slowly.
Her breathing was starting to become messy as he got closer to where she was dying to be touched. Whether it was Luke or Ethan, in which she hoped Ethan would be the one to do it, but wasn't complaining when Luke knew how to push her own buttons.
Before Luke could finally reach where she desperately needed it, she was snagged from his arms and thrown over a shoulder.
She looked back up to see Luke standing there, tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he saluted to her. She smirked at him in amusement, knowing exactly whose shoulder she was over.
Y/n was taken up the staircase and into the familiar brunette's room, the door shutting and locking behind them.
Ethan set y/n down on her feet once they were in his room, the girl’s eyebrows scrunched up in a frown. That frown changed when she saw his facial expression. 
She couldn’t pinpoint all the emotions running through his mind, but the ones she could see were anger, sadness, annoyance. 
Lust. 
His anger was what she could see the most running through his eyes, arms crossed over his chest. “Did you need something?” She retorts, testing the waters that were already running high. Ethan scoffs down at her, his arms being thrown up in anger at her. “You’re fucking with me right?” He snaps, making her shake her head at his tone. 
“I’m not doing this,” she chuckles bitterly, trying to walk past him but he grabs her arm. “Of course you won’t. You haven’t wanted to in weeks! I don’t hear shit from you, and the next thing I know I'm watching both of my best friends all up on one another? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Y/n lets her tongue run over her teeth, not daring to make eye contact with him. She might’ve been buzzed, but she was not drunk. She was sober enough to be aware of her surroundings, but so aware of them that she was holding back her actions. Because liquid courage was surely a thing right now, and she could not hold back much longer. 
“Hello? You gonna answer me y/n/n?” He says in a short tone, making her snap out of her trance. 
She could hear Rutger’s voice downstairs saying fifteen seconds till midnight, y/n really wanting to get out of there before she couldn’t control herself anymore. 
All these feelings have been building up, her avoiding him not helping her case. Actually made it worse, because of the way her body and mind craved his presence and touch. 
“I can’t right now, Ethan.” She musters out, not making eye contact as she says it. Ethan frowns at her, confusion setting in. “Do what?” He asks. She shakes her head at him, the boy watching as she swallows hard, her chest heaving. 
“Ethan,” she says, her tone was one he had only a few times. It was a warning tone. She still wasn’t looking at him in the eyes. The sound of everyone downstairs counting down till midnight and the music blaring being heard. “You should really get down there,” she says and motions to the door. “Your girl will be wondering where you are at midnight.”  
Ethan storms up to her, annoyed that she won’t even acknowledge him or look at him. 
“Look at me,” he says, his tone stern as he grabs her jaw softly but enough to force her to look at him. Her eyes catch his, he sees that she’s got a certain emotion running through them. 
“What’s going on, y/n?” He mutters to her softly this time. "Why won't you talk to me? What did I do?" he pushes, watching as the gears turn in her mind.
He watches her lip quiver, soon biting it to hide the way it shook. It shouldn't have made him feel a way, but it did. He wanted to be the one biting that lip. Let alone taking away the pain he could see in her eyes.
Y/n rolls her eyes as the crowd yells out ‘one’ followed by a ‘happy new year’. She looks back at him, still staying silent. He says her name one last time sternly. 
“Y/n.” 
“Goddammit Eddy.” she snaps before her hand wraps around his neck, pulling him in for his lips to finally slam onto her own. 
He didn’t take any time to process what was going on, just instantly kissing her back with just as much passion as she did. His hand going to both sides of her head, their lips moving in sync. 
The way his lips felt on hers was nothing like she's ever imagined. They felt like they belonged on her own. What caught her off guard the most, was the fact that he didn't even hesitate to kiss her back.
That's when she realized he felt the same way she did. The attraction was there.
His tongue grazed hers, making his hand slide down and grip her backside. When her mouth opened in a gasp, he slid his tongue inside to let it massage hers.
Her soft moans were like music to his ears, his hands roaming anywhere and everywhere. He wanted to hear them over and over again. It was him making her make those noises. Not Luke. His lips left her own and trailed down her neck, stopping on the same spot that Luke's had once been on. Y/n didn't think it could feel any better, but Ethan made it feel insatiable.
Her hands ran through his hair as his hands roamed wherever they could reach, her gasps and breathless moans going into his broad shoulder. But as he kissed along her entire chest, her conscience came creeping in.
"Ethan," she sighs, the boy's hands raising the hem of her dress slightly, gripping her thighs trying to get her as close as he could in that moment. All that was on his mind was her. She tried his name once again, the brunette still not answering her as he searched for her lips to shush her.
"Ethan hold on," she says in between their kisses. He whimpers in her mouth, making her feel so incredibly weak. She wanted to cave so bad. Wanted to give him all of her. Let him have his way with her, and her with him.
But she couldn't. She couldn't do that.
"Your girlfriend, Eddy." she mutters as she pulls away, putting her hand on his chest. They're both breathless, Ethan going in one last time, teeth going down to drag out her bottom lip which earned a moan from her mouth.
He takes a moment with her, chests heaving against one another.
"You stay here," he whispers, his hands coming up to squeeze her waist.
She just hums with a slight nod. "I'll be back." he says, placing one last kiss on her lips, leaving her in the middle of his room in a disheveled state.
He didn't return that night.
She's where you're waking up, she's got you making up such pretty boy excuses
Oh but I know one thing, she can't stop it happening in my mind
It had been two weeks since the New Years incident. Two weeks since y/n and Ethan had shared that moment in his room. Two weeks since he left you there, only to not return.
He had been the one avoiding her now. But in this case, not under his own choices.
Every time y/n showed up to the Hockey house, she was there. Every time y/n went to a home game, she was sitting in your spot, going to see him at the tunnel instead of y/n.
When she'd text him to meet, he'd say the same things.
E :)
I can't today, I'm trying to focus. I've got a lot going on rn.
E :)
I wish I could, but I've got some stuff going on with the boys.
E :)
I would say yes, but the gf and I have plans tonight!
She knew it wasn't him making the choices, or sending those texts. He always dropped whatever he was doing to see y/n, to be with her.
The boys would've invited her to come with for one, and for two she had planned on seeing some of the guys that night. So y/n knew it was a lie from him.
The classes y/n had with Ethan and the boys was what made it more obvious. He always made up an excuse as to why his girlfriend needed him to sit with her. Or she would already be sitting in y/n's spot, so she'd find somewhere in the back to sit.
Y/n's heart began to ache. She knew deep down that it wouldn't have just happened so easily between them two, and that she couldn't stop him from making that choice. It just hurt because she should've composed herself better that night, then maybe they would've turned out being back to normal at this point.
Y/n sat in the library with Rutger's girlfriend, the pair doing homework in one of the study hall rooms. Y/n had been zoned out, her eyes locked on Ethan and his girlfriend, whom sat outside in the main study hall area talking all happily with one another.
It should be her he is sat with. Them two laughing at some stupid joke Ethan tried making about classes or the assignment at hand. It should've been her getting the quick kisses stolen in between work.
"You really need to get better at hiding your emotions, y/n/n," Rutger's girlfriend says.
Y/n snapping out of her trance and looking up at the girl whom had the whiteboard marker in one hand, the other on her hip with an unfazed look on her face.
"What emotion? I'm fine." Y/n says, her tone squeaky and uneven.
"Yeah and I'm a hockey wag," the blonde girl jokes, making y/n shrug.
"Technically speaking, you are. Unofficially," she pushes, nearly dodging the marker thrown her way.
"Not the point!" the girl laughs, y/n smiling at her comment.
She comes and sits next to y/n, sighing as she sees what her friend was witnessing. Then turns back to look at her a few moments later.
"What happened on New Years?" she asked, watching her friend pale and look at her lap.
"You cannot say a word," y/n says. "I won't-"
"Not even to Rutger."
"Damn that bad huh?"
Y/n nods. "We kind of sort of," she trails off. "madeoutinhisroomandIhadtobetheonetostopitfromgoingfurther"
The blonde looked at her like she had two heads. "I cannot decipher your fast speaking tone, so slow it down for me thank you."
Y/n sighs. "We made out in his room, and I was the one who had to try and stop it. Because if I didn't, we would've kept going." she admits, watching her friends eyes light up.
"I was wondering why he looked so dazed and why his lips were swollen when he came back." she says in a knowing manner.
"Seriously, you cannot say a word! He didn't even come back to me that night, so it means nothing." y/n says as she closes her books, packing up her stuff.
"Girl, he didn't come back because his girlfriend knew something was up."
"I kind of figured with how she's been about me lately."
"Yeah trust me, everyone has noticed." y/n threw the whiteboard marker back at her friend who laughed.
"Don't stress about it seriously. She is just jealous of what you guys have," she explains as they begin to leave the room. "I'm not one to be for cheating, trust me. But with how she treats all of us behind the scenes, I'd say your secret would be safe with me."
Y/n shook her head, her eyes finding Ethan once again. "Yeah well," He must've felt someone staring because his eyes look up from the platinum blonde girl next to him, smile dropping when he finds the familiar girl's stare.
"He can count his day because he's breaking my heart doing it." The two girls then walk away, Y/n's eyes leaving Ethan's.
His eyes following her still as she left the hall.
She's got you right now, but I'm still on your mind
457 notes · View notes
andvys · 3 months
Text
I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 26
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Warnings: 18+, angst, alcohol consumption, weed, mentions of vomiting, mentions of sex, mentions of cunnilingus, clueless reader, jealousy
Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader | Eddie Munson x fem!reader
Summary: During a spontaneous birthday 'party', you find some things out, things that maybe should've been left unsaid.
Word count: 6k+
A/N: So, this chapter took a whole turn while I was writing it. It was supposed to head into a whole different direction but my angsty heart, had to say no to the fluffy route. @hellfire--cult thank you for helping me, you're amazingggg
series masterlist
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Steve lied. 
He lied again. 
It’s something he hasn’t done in a while. 
He promised himself to never do it again, knowing how much damage it had caused in the past, in both relationships that he had. 
This lie is harmless, though. At least, he thinks that it is. 
He spent the day with Robin and Dustin, they had surprised him with a homemade birthday cake that Robin had made with Chrissy’s help, it would’ve been a cute one, had Dustin not ruined it with his Star Wars decorations. Lucas and Max showed up as well, ‘surprising’ him by throwing a bunch of balloons and confetti at him. 
They made him blow out the candles, before forcing him to open all the presents. Dustin’s present was not surprising, at all. A Star Wars movie collection. Lucas had given him a keychain, with a little basketball pendant. Max acted all careless as always, shrugging it off when he gave her a kind smile and a ‘thank you’, yet, she gave him one of the best presents, a collection of polaroids of him with the teens, with Robin and even you, along with new records, claiming that he needs to expand his music taste. He has yet to unwrap Robin’s presents. 
They ate cake, went to the movies and the diner. And afterwards, Steve drove everyone home. Robin didn’t believe him when he said that he made plans with his parents for the evening, that they’d come home to spend his birthday with him. She was suspicious, not buying the lies he was feeding her with, Steve could tell but she had no choice but to say goodbye when he dropped her off at home, he really didn’t want her to stay longer than she had to, he wanted to be alone, by himself. So, when she begrudgingly got out of the car and gave him a sad smile, he gave her a cheerful one back, pretending to be happy when he was feeling anything but it. 
He didn’t go home. He knew that his parents wouldn’t come and he couldn’t stand the thought of staying in that big house, all by himself, tonight. He drove past your street, as well, fighting the urge to go and see you. 
There is only one place he knew he would find peace at. The Hideout. 
Now, he is sitting here, in the corner of the bar, with a drink that he had bought with his fake ID, soon he won’t have to use it anymore. With his head hung low, he lets his mind go to places that he had avoided all day. Dark thoughts that hold nothing but heartbreak and loneliness. He doesn’t feel miserable, just really fucking sad. He has people who care about him, friends who love him, people he now considers family. And yet, he still feels lonelier than ever. 
He looks around the bar, it’s not very crowded, it never is. Maybe on weekends, but never during the week. Rock music plays in the back, he hears the chatter of a group of young men by the bar, they’re laughing, throwing back drinks – they are clearly having a great time. For a while, Steve watches them. How they laugh with each other, how they all look so carefree and happy. He doesn’t even know what it feels like to feel that way anymore, to have fun and be happy without ruining everything with his actions in the matter of just a few minutes. 
He sighs, leaning back in the chair, he looks down at his drink, that lately he started to find more and more comfort in. 
The door opens but he doesn’t bother to look up, not caring about whoever it is that walked through the door. He is so focused on the miserable feeling inside his chest, the tearing, the longing, the yearning, the hurt. 
Before his mind can react, his heart is already fluttering when he hears your voice. He raises his head, eyes finding you immediately. You’re here. You’re here with Eddie. And you look more beautiful than ever. You’re wearing a black dress and the dark denim jacket that he was cursing at, last year when he had yet to find out who it belonged to. Your hair is falling softly in waves, your lips are glowing a soft pink beneath the dim light, you’re giggling, slapping Eddie’s arm playfully when he whispers something in your ear.
His eyes soften, despite you being here with him, giggling at him, he can’t help but smile when he finally sees you again. It’s only been a few weeks since he had properly seen you, yet, it seems like forever.
When your eyes find him and your giggles die down, your smile falls and your eyes widen. He freezes. Not knowing how to react or what to do. Not only have you caught him staring, you have also caught him lying. Again. You were the first person he lied to about his birthday plans. He looks away with a blush on his cheeks, his hand grip the glass tighter, he inwardly curses himself out for coming here, tonight. 
“It’s his birthday, right?” Eddie mumbles behind you. 
“Yeah,” you whisper in confusion. “He told me that he would spend his birthday with his parents..” 
Eddie looks away from you and back at Steve. He sits there, looking crestfallen. His shoulders are slumped, his face etched with sadness, he can see it, even from a distance. The sight of him sitting there so lonely and sad is pitiful. Eddie knows what he feels like, at this moment. His dad never cared about him, not even on his birthdays, he never even bothered to give him a call from wherever he was currently living or staying at. 
But, Eddie has Wayne, he always had Wayne. Steve doesn’t. He doesn’t have anyone who looks after him. He is all by himself. 
“I guess they didn’t come,” you mumble with sadness and a hint of disappointment in your voice. “They never do.”
“Robin told me that he was acting weird when he dropped her off earlier.” 
Despite his dislike for him, he can’t help but feel bad for Steve. The people he wants the most, aren’t in his life. 
His parents are gone. 
You are gone. 
Steve had changed. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Eddie can see that he has changed for the better. That he isn’t the guy who hurt you, who left you standing on your birthday, who broke your heart and left you for someone else. He isn’t that guy anymore. Had he still been that guy, Eddie wouldn’t even bother to look at him twice and feel any ounce of pity for him but now, things are different. He is different. In a way, it scares Eddie, because he knows that he now has a chance for a second try, with you. 
“Do you think he’s here by himself?”
You shrug, looking away from Steve, you turn towards Eddie, “yeah.” 
You feel the little item in your pocket, the one that suddenly feels too heavy, the one you itch to reach for and give it to the one you got it for.
Eddie looks down at you, at the sadness in your eyes. For once, it doesn’t make him feel frustrated or annoyed to see you be so sad for someone who hurt you. 
“No one should be alone on their birthday,” Eddie mumbles.  
“Yeah,” you sigh, looking down at your hands. “But, I-I guess it’s what he wanted, he could’ve spent time with Robin.”
“He was with her before, wasn’t he?” 
“Yeah.”
Eddie sighs. There is hesitation in your voice and in your eyes.
“Do you want to spend time with him?” He asks, already feeling the dread tugging in his chest, knowing that the night won’t go the way he wanted it to.
For a moment, you stare into Eddie’s brown eyes, there’s a kindness in them, kindness for him. That is something so rare. 
“Uh, I’m sure he wants to be alone.”
Eddie knows you. Eddie knows what you want, right now. But, you are hesitating out of fear of upsetting him. 
“Sweetheart,” he whispers, placing his finger under your chin, tilting your head up. “I won’t get angry. If you want to spend time with him tonight, we can cancel our plans and you can go be with him.” He nudges his chin into Steve’s directions. “I don’t like him but, shit, even I can’t stand the fucking kicked puppy look that he’s sporting, right now.” 
You eye his face. Even through the sadness for Steve, the smile for you, you can see the slight fear in his eyes. The fear that any moment with you, will be his last one before you find your way back to Steve, before you say goodbye to a friendship that might’ve saved your life. But even through the fear, he still wants the best for you, he still wants what you want. 
“I think he wants to be alone,” you repeat.
Eddie looks over your shoulder to see him staring at you. 
“Nah, I don’t think so.”
You sigh, shaking your head. 
“What if we all hang out together?” 
“Sweetheart, I don’t think that Steve would be happy to spend time with me–”
“Please, Eddie,” you whisper, mustering up the best puppy eyes and a pout that he can never say no to. “We can just have fun together, you’ve never met drunk Steve before, he can be funny – unless he decides to break your heart but, that won’t happen to you, don’t worry,” you giggle. 
He raises his brows at you, surprised that you are making a joke about that. 
“You go buy us drinks and I’ll go convince him to spend time with us. We can just all get drunk together, maybe you’ll finally get along,” you shrug, giving him a sheepish smile, you place your hands on his chest, pushing him towards the bar, not taking no for an answer. 
“I don’t think it’ll take much convincing,” he snorts. As though you would ever have to convince Steve to spend time with you. Eddie is certain that all it takes is a glance from you and that man is already by your side, you got Steve wrapped around your finger, just like him, and you don’t even know it. 
You turn on your heel, not waiting for a response from Eddie. You make your way over to Steve, whose head is still hung low. Your heart thumps a little faster in your chest when you inch closer and closer to him. You push your hand into your pocket, reaching for the tiny bag that you had taken with you earlier when you considered dropping by his house. 
You stop in front of him, taking a shaky breath as you place the small bag on the table, sliding it towards him. 
“Happy birthday, Steve,” you whisper.
His wide eyes stare at the bag, the tiny jewelry pouch that clearly holds a present inside for him. His eyes soften, staring at your ringed fingers that linger next to his hand for a moment. 
He looks up, slowly. Hazel eyes flashing with softness when they meet yours. You stare at him with a shy smile, sadness lingering in your pretty eyes. His heart flutters so strongly, he longs to touch you. 
“Thank you,” he whispers, giving you a smile. “W-What’s that?” He asks, pointing to his present without tearing his eyes from you. 
“I got you a little present. I-It’s nothing special just, I just wanted to get you something. You don’t have to open it now, just uh–”
“Y/n,” he smiles, interrupting your rambling, “you didn’t even have to get me anything but I appreciate it, I will love it.” 
“You don’t even know what it is.”
“Yeah but it’s from you, so, I will love it, dolly.” 
A smile appears on your face, you nod slowly, whispering a small ‘okay’. You know that Steve always loved to keep certain presents for last, so you’re not surprised to see him tucking it into the pocket of his jeans. 
“Your parents didn’t come?” 
He looks down, holding the glass tighter, he shakes his head, unable to bear the pitiful look on your face. 
“Oh.”
“It’s okay,” he whispers before you can say ‘I'm sorry, steve.’ He doesn’t want you to pity him. 
“No, it’s not. You shouldn’t be alone.” 
“I-I wasn’t alone, I was with Robin all day and the kids–”
“But, now you are.”
He raises his head to look at you. And, before he can even say anything, his words get caught in his throat when he looks at you. Your eyes are glistening, not with tears and sadness, but with something else, something he cannot read. You look at him differently than you did weeks ago, not in a way that scares him or breaks him but, in a way, that only leaves him with one too many questions. He struggles to read you, to understand you. It’s like he can no longer see through you the way he could before. Nonetheless, he feels so calm and safe in your presence and he wants this moment to last forever. 
“Right now, I’m not, though. You’re here.”
You smile at his words. 
“Yeah, I’m here.” 
When Eddie appears by your side, Steve tries not to let his smile fall. 
Right. He is here too. 
“Happy Birthday, man.”
To Steve’s surprise, he sees Eddie not with two but three shots in his hands, he places them all on the table. Grinning at him in a way he can’t tell whether it’s a kind one or a sarcastic one. 
“Thanks,” Steve nods at him. 
Eddie pulls the chair back for you, you smile at him, taking the seat across from Steve. Eddie sits down beside you, leaving Steve with a questioning look on his face as he looks between the two of you. 
“W-What?”
“You think we’re gonna let you spend the night alone, Harrington?” 
Steve looks at Eddie in confusion, hearing these words not from yours but from his mouth leaves him more puzzled than ever. Eddie spending time with him willingly? He purses his lips, squinting his eyes as he turns to look at you. You smile at him, shrugging. You slide one of the shots towards him. 
“I mean, I thought that we could spend this night together,” you say, smiling with hope in your eyes. “Or we can leave if that’s what you–”
“No, I-I want to.”
He looks between you two, giving Eddie an awkward smile. 
“Cool! Let’s drink, then.” 
“Yeah, let’s drink,” he chuckles as he ditches his glass of whiskey for the shot of whatever Eddie had ordered. 
“When’s the last time you got drunk?” You ask them both. 
“Oh man,” Eddie mumbles, leaning back in his seat, he puts his arm on the back of your chair. “I don’t even remember, it’s been a while. What about you, sweetheart?” 
“Uh, well, I had a cocktail night with the girls, a few weeks ago,” you say, giggling. “Oh, also at a party.”
You and Eddie look at each other, he instantly knows what party you are talking about when he sees the amused look on your face. He chuckles, though he instantly gets taken back that night. When you showed up with that stolen bat plushie, when you told him how much you missed him, when you told him that you wished you met him first. 
Steve looks between you two, a sinking feeling in his stomach takes place. There are things you share with Eddie, things that he will never know about because he isn’t in his place anymore. 
“I knew it! I knew you were lying to me, Dingus!” 
Startled by the voice, all three of you snap your heads towards the angry girl walking towards the three of you with a frown on her face, pointing her finger at Steve. 
Steve’s eyes widen, “I can explain.” 
Something about the anger on Robin’s face and the panic in Steve’s features makes you giggle.
Robin slaps the back of his head, lightly. 
“Ouch! Robin!”
“You are such a–”
“Dingus, yeah yeah, I know.” 
Eddie laughs at that, smirking at Steve who throws him a glare.
“You think that’s funny, Munson?” 
Eddie leans back with a satisfied grin, “actually yeah.”
Robin plops down in the seat next to Steve, still staring at him with a frown on her face. 
“Why did you lie to me? Why are you here?” 
Steve sighs, scratching the back of his neck as he gives her a sheepish smile. 
“And what are you two doing here?” She asks, turning to look at you and Eddie. 
“Came here for a couple of drinks and then we found this sad puppy,” Eddie mumbles, pointing at Steve. 
Steve rolls his eyes, mumbling a few incoherent words under his breath. 
“We just asked him to spend the night with us.” 
Robin gives you a surprised look before her eyes move back to Eddie, who, doesn’t look as enthusiastic about this whole thing as you do. 
“How did you even know I was here?” 
Robin leans her elbow on the table, tilting her head at Steve, “well, I was craving some burgers and my favorite driver was apparently at a birthday dinner so I couldn’t ask him to drive me, so I walked, imagine my surprise when I saw a certain BMW standing in front of The Hideout.”
“Robin–”
“No! Don’t Robin me! Why’d you lie?” 
Steve didn’t want her to feel like it’something she had to do, hang out with him, spend his birthday with him because there’s no one else for him other than her. He doesn’t want her to do anything out of pity for him. 
He doesn’t feel comfortable to talk about it in front of Eddie or even you, knowing that you pity him the most. You always did and he hated it. A part of him always thought that that’s why you were with him, because you pitied him, the sad boy who was always abandoned by his own parents, because you knew he had no one else that cared about him, that loved him. So you stayed, you stayed even when you shouldn’t have.
Even now, you look at him with those big sad eyes with that look of pity in them. 
“Robin,” you warn when you notice how uncomfortable he looks, how he clenches his jaw and bites his lip.
Eddie senses the tension, the looks you are giving Robin, the way she is ignoring you because she desperately wants an explanation from Steve. 
“Lay off, Robin. Maybe he just wanted to get a few drinks and not deal with your annoying ass,” he says to her with a grin. 
She flips him off, rolling her eyes at him. 
“Just relax, here, take my shot and drink it, you need it, Robin,” you say, sliding the shot glass towards her. 
She turns towards the two of you, shaking her head with squinted eyes, “you’re both pretty rude.” 
“So are you, Robby.”
“Ew,” she scrunches her face up at Eddie, “don’t fucking call me Robby.”
“I’m gonna keep calling you that, if you don’t stop being so rude to sad birthday boy over there.” 
Steve sighs, running his hand down his face. 
“Can you just call me Steve, dude?” 
You giggle at the annoyed look on his face. 
Eddie grins, “okay, Steve.” 
“Not like that.” 
“Like what?” 
“Like you’re mocking me!” Steve exclaims. 
“How am I mocking you, Steve?” 
Steve scoffs, shaking his head, “see, you’re doing it again!”
“Oh my god, shut the hell up!” Robin slams her hands against the table, truly, shutting them both up. “Eddie, get me a drink.” 
Both Steve and Eddie look at her as though she had grown two heads, while you giggle at her little outburst. 
“That was an order.” 
“Damn girl,” Eddie whistles, getting up from his chair, “you need more than one drink,” he mumbles as he walks off. 
“You are both two immature idiots,” she groans, burying her hands in her hair. 
“You are so mean to me,” Steve mumbles, looking at her in disbelief, “and that on my birthday!” 
A smile tugs at your lips, you look between them, chuckling at the way she rolls her eyes at him. 
“You know what, I really need a few drinks.” 
“Wait, are we actually doing this?” Steve asks, gesturing to the shots on the table. 
“What, getting drunk?” 
He nods at you. 
“Yeah. Just like old times, right?” You smile at him in a way you always used to. 
“Just like old times.” 
His eyes suddenly flash with amusement, he snorts, “do you remember my fifteenth birthday?” 
Your eyes widen as a giggle falls from your lips. 
“Of course I remember!”
Robin’s eyes flash with curiosity. There’s things she doesn’t know about yours and his friendship, things neither you or Steve had talked about yet. 
“Wait, what happened on your fifteenth birthday?” 
Your eyes light up with excitement, you lean closer to the table, looking at Steve, waiting for him to tell the story. 
He chuckles at the look on your face before he turns his body towards Robin. 
“We stole my dad’s super expensive wine, he was supposed to take it to some event – I got in so much trouble for that, by the way,” he says to you. 
“I know, I know. Keep going, Steve.”
“Alright, so, we stole that wine bottle. We played a drinking game, kept passing that bottle back and forth until we were fucking hammered,” he says, chuckling as he thinks back to that day in his backyard. The way you giggled at anything he said, the way you danced and ran around barefoot on the grass, the way you jumped in his pool, fully clothed, the way he hugged you when you were both in the water.
“This crazy girl over there started to cannon ball into my pool–” 
You giggle at the memory. 
“She did it over and over again and it looked so fun so I joined her. Honestly, it was pretty fun but I had half a bottle of wine and ate a whole pizza before that.” 
“Oh,” Robin scrunches her face up, already seeing where this is going. 
Steve can’t even fight the smile off his lips, his eyes crinkle, his cheeks flush and he giggles, “we’re in the pool, having the best time of our lives, right? And, fifteen year old me apparently thought that it was a good idea to kiss my best friend, but I totally missed her lips and kissed her nose and she fucking laughed at me, but I wanted to try again. I lean in when I suddenly feel the urge to throw up.” 
“Oh, ew! Stop!” 
“He threw up in the pool, Robin!”
“That’s so disgusting!” She whines, trying to get the image of Steve puking into the pool out of her head, “you don’t have any better stories to tell?” 
You and Steve can’t help but laugh harder at her reaction. 
“I mean the kiss on the nose is fucking embarrassing, Steve. But throwing up in front of her afterwards?” 
“I thought it was funny,” you giggle. 
“What is funny?” Eddie asks when he comes back with two drinks for Robin, placing them on the table and sliding them towards her before he sits down beside you again. 
“Trust me, you don’t wanna know,” Robin says with a look of disgust on her face. 
“I don’t?” He asks, glancing at you and how amused you look. 
“No, you really don’t.”
“Okay,” he snorts. 
He glances at Steve, grinning at him, “hey dude, I got a birthday present for you.” 
All three of you turn to look at Eddie in surprise, watching him in curiosity when he raises his hand, reaching for something in the pocket of his dark flannel. He picks out a joint, tossing it at Steve who catches it with one hand. 
He laughs at that, raising one brow, giving Eddie a smile, “I do appreciate this, it’s kind of expensive nowadays.” 
“Is it expensive?” You ask, turning to Eddie, “you always give me some for free.” 
Eddie’s lips curl into a smile, he lifts his hand towards your face, tapping your nose with his finger, “well, you’re my best friend.” 
Steve keeps his eyes down, not wanting to look between you and Eddie. 
You smile at the way Eddie looks at you, the way his eyes glisten, the way his cheeks are always a little red, the way–
“Do you guys wanna smoke this?” Steve asks, cutting the voice in your head. 
“Here?” 
He chuckles at Robin, “of course not. We could go back to my place, my parents aren’t home, anyways.”
To Eddie’s surprise, he not only directs these words at you and Robin, he also directs them at him. 
“Uh, I’d love to!” Robin grins. 
Steve gives you a hopeful smile, one that makes it impossible to say no to him. 
“Me too.” 
At that, his eyes light up and his smile grows bigger. 
“Sure, let’s do it.”
“We’ll have to walk though,” Robin gestures to the drink Steve already had, “cause you can’t drive and I don’t have a license.”
He shrugs, “we can take Eddie’s van and I’ll get my car tomorrow morning.” 
“Uh, no,” Eddie mumbles, scratching the back of his neck, “my uncle took my van cause his car is at the shop, we walked here.” 
Steve sighs, “shit.” 
“But you could let me drive, I didn’t have anything yet,” Eddie smirks, pointing to the untouched shots. 
Steve snorts at him with a deep glare, “uh, yeah, keep dreaming, Munson,” he mumbles as he leans back, reaching for the keys in his pockets, you all watch him curiously. “The only one who’s allowed to drive my car is dolly.” 
Robin raises her brows in surprise when Steve chucks his keys at you that you quickly catch, looking down at them with a dumbfounded expression before your eyes light up and you look up, beaming at Steve. 
“Okay, let’s go,” you smile, excitedly as you play with the car keys. You scoot back, getting up from the chair. Robin knocks back one shot before she gets up as well. Steve and Eddie glance at the four untouched shots on the table and then, their eyes meet, they both shrug at each other and reach for two shots, each. 
Robin pats Steve’s shoulder, chuckling when he knocks one back and then the other, grimacing at the strong taste. 
You giggle at Eddie, who looks unfazed by the bitter taste. 
“Let’s go, ladies and.. Steve,” he grins. 
“Dude.”
“Don’t start this again,” Robin warns, pointing at them both before she rushes over to you, wrapping her arm around your shoulder, she grins, “us ladies, ride in the front, and you two can cuddle in the back,” she winks at them, pulling you away with a giggle. 
-
After an eventful ride to Steve’s house and a few shots of tequila, you all settled in his backyard, each of you occupying one of the many loungers around the pool. Passing around the joint that Eddie had given Steve as a ‘birthday gift’. You are sipping on a drink that Steve has made for you, coke mixed with his dad’s expensive whiskey. You are pretty sure that you will regret the amount of alcohol and weed you are having tonight, when you wake up tomorrow morning. But the floaty and giddy feeling you are experiencing right now, will have to make up for it. 
Steve is sitting on the lounger beside you, a can of beer in his hand, his lips wrapped around the joint that is already stained with your lipstick. A spitcurl is hanging in front of his eyes, he doesn’t bother to push it away. He shakes his head at something Robin had said to him, something you didn’t even hear because you were too busy letting your eyes skip back and forth between him and the curly haired metalhead who now left his lounger to be closer to you. 
Eddie wraps his hands around your calves, stroking your skin softly with his ringed fingers as he places your feet on his lap. He does it all without breaking his conversation with Robin. Though he feels the goosebumps on your skin, he hears the breath that hitched in your throat when he touched you. He hides his smirk behind his drink as he takes a sip of the cold beer.
Steve clenches his jaw as he looks between you and Eddie. The way he continues to stroke your calf, the way he smirks at your reaction, the way you are blushing, biting your lip as you look down at the hand touching your skin. 
He forces himself to look away, turning back to Robin, he offers her the joint. 
“Thanks,” she mumbles, giggling when she almost doubles over as she reaches for the joint. 
“Already hammered and we haven’t even played a drinking game yet, tsk,” Eddie shakes his head, giving her a playful grin. 
With an eye roll, she gets up, placing the joint between her lips as she sits down next to Steve. 
“A drinking game, huh? What kind? ‘Never have I ever’? Okay,” She grins at him without giving him a chance to reply. “Never have I ever had a girlfriend,” she smirks, teasing him. 
Steve licks his lips, chuckling at Eddie, who nods at her with an annoyed look on his face. 
You raise your eyebrows, “why are you teasing him, I never had a girlfriend, either,” you shrug. 
“Yeah but you had a boyfriend,” she mumbles, nudging Steve’s shoulder. 
Eddie tilts his head at you, looking you up and down with a smirk, “do you want one?” 
“A girlfriend?” You ask as you raise the glass to your lips, shrugging, “I don’t know, I never thought about it but kissing girls is fun, so.. I suppose doing anything else with a girl is fun too.” 
Eddie’s lips part, his brown eyes widen, darkening as they do so. He swallows as he continues to stare at you. Millions of questions run through his mind. There are things he doesn’t know about you, yet? 
Robin and Steve look at you in surprise. 
“Wait, w-what?” He mumbles, laughing nervously. 
Robin’s lips curl into a smirk, “you kissed a girl before? Who?” 
“Yeah, sweetheart, do tell us your dirty little secrets.” 
“Hmm, no,” you smirk, batting your eyelashes at him. 
“Was that before or after me?” Steve asks, cheeks flushed red as he tries to fight the images out of his mind. 
“Before you,” you giggle. 
“Shit, I wanna know who it was.”
“Me too, Eddie,” Robin says. “I know that it wasn’t Chrissy, she’d tell me.” 
“Huh, was it another girl from the cheer squad?” 
You shake your head at Eddie, biting your lip to keep yourself from laughing. 
“Were you close?” 
You shrug, nodding your head.
Steve squints his eyes, tilting his head at you. 
Robin’s jaw drops a little when she figures it out. There is only one girl that you’re close with that wasn’t in the cheer squad – well, besides her. 
“Holy shit,” she mouths at you, grinning.
Steve and Eddie glance at each other in confusion. 
It’s amusing how obvious the answer is, yet, neither of them are close to figuring it out. 
“If you think kissing a girl is fun, you should try eating one out,” Robin mumbles before she takes a drag from the joint, “it’s the best thing ever.” She blows out the smoke, not noticing the confused frown on your face. 
“For once, I have to agree with you, Robin,” Eddie chuckles. 
Steve freezes, closing his eyes as he looks down. 
“Huh?” 
Noticing the look on your face, Robin suddenly regrets opening her mouth about that. Your lips are parted, your eyes filled with confusion and curiosity, your brows are pinched together as you stare at her with a questioning look on your face. She straightens her back, muttering a quiet ‘fuck’ under her breath when she looks at Steve’s embarrassed face. 
“What’s that?” 
Eddie freezes. The smirk falls from his face, he glances at you, at the clueless, lost look on your face. Oh. Steve had never – fuck. How? If you were his, he’d spend day and night on his knees, worshiping you. 
“Huh?” This time, it’s him, whose confused. 
You look at him with big and curious eyes. 
“What is that, I don’t watch porn.” 
“Damn, I guess it’s time to,” Robin mutters through gritted teeth. 
“Licking someone’s pussy, sweetheart. And well, fucking one with your tongue.” 
Your jaw drops, your cheeks heat up and you stare at him in shock. You look cute like this and he could stare at you forever but, in his state of shock, he slowly turns his head towards Steve, eyes filled with concern, confusion and disbelief, “dude, what is wrong with you?” 
Steve, whose face is beet red, glares at him. 
“I’m very self conscious of not doing a good job, so–”
“You learn!” Eddie throws his hands up. 
“What, Munson, are you the pussy expert or something?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes at him. 
You look back and forth between them. Taking in the sight of Eddie’s slightly angered face and Steve’s embarrassed one. 
“I have eaten my share of pussy, thank you very much.”
The scoff falls from your lips before you can even stop it. Neither of them acknowledge you though, until you open your mouth. “What, like three?” You scoff, again. “You only fucked three girls, that’s what you told me, unless you lied about that.” 
Eddie swallows, glancing at you, he fails to notice just how intense the look in your eyes is. 
“There’s a difference between sex and foreplay, sweetheart.” 
You bite the insides of your cheeks, swallowing the bitterness on your tongue as you look into his eyes. Not once, had you spent a single second wondering if Eddie was seeing someone, if he was fooling around with girls when he wasn’t with you. But now that you think about it, now that you imagine him with other girls, you suddenly feel the bile rising in your throat. The sickening feeling makes you want to drop to your knees and puke out the waffles you had eaten this morning.
“So, when was the last time you did that then, Eddie?” Robin asks, both curious to know and to see your reaction. 
He shrugs, “I don’t know, Buckley. I don’t keep count of how many days–”
“Yes, you do! Men always do!” 
He doesn’t feel comfortable sharing that in front of you, but he knows that Robin won’t drop it until she gets an answer she’s satisfied with. Besides, you probably won’t even care. Despite Dmitri’s encouraging words, he still refuses to believe that there are any feelings other than the platonic ones that you feel for him. This won’t hurt you, right? 
“Fine! Two or three months ago, happy? Now, Harrington, I think I should teach you some basics.” 
You feel as though a cold bucket of water has been dropped on you. Your heart leaps to your throat as your stomach drops. Another wave of sickness floods through you. You stare at him, not noticing Steve’s or Robin’s eyes on you. 
When was that? Was it the weekend you couldn’t spend time with him? The night you couldn’t come to his gig? Was it before or after he had gotten angry at you for kissing Steve? 
It shouldn’t affect you as much as it does, it shouldn’t make you feel this sick, this jealous. You barely figured out your feelings for him. But the longer you stare at him, listen to his words, you can’t help but feel anger rather than jealousy. 
You didn’t have feelings for him back then, or at least, you weren’t aware of them. He’s single and free to do whatever he wants but so are you – so were you when you kissed Steve and yet, he was so angry at you when he found out about it. He treated you so coldly, all because he hated the thought of you kissing Steve. Yet, he was out there fooling around with other girls.
“You have never actually eaten pussy before, dude?” Robin mumbles.
Steve rubs the back of his neck, nervously, “I mean, yeah. Just not–” he pauses with a look of shame in his eyes as he briefly glances at you. 
You roll your eyes. 
You’re not surprised to hear that, you’re not even hurt. After everything that happened between you and him, his sex life with Nancy is the last thing you had ever worried about. You always knew that he treated her better than he ever treated you. 
And, that he tried new things with her isn’t anything shocking to you, anyways. 
You open your mouth but before you can say something that might ruin the night, you press your lips together again. Sighing, you look down at your drink. You take a deep breath before you raise the glass to your lips, gulping down the rest of it.
You plaster a smile on your face. Ignoring the concerned looks that Robin is giving you. She thankfully changes the topic. Eddie and Steve, surprisingly fall into yet another conversation. 
Their distraction allows you to slip away for a moment, you pass by Robin without meeting her eyes and make a quick escape to the bathroom. Locking yourself into the small room for a moment to collect yourself. 
Despite the anger you are feeling, you don’t want to ruin the night for Steve. 
You splash some cold water and run your fingers through your hair. 
With tears in your eyes, you stare at yourself in the mirror. 
Whether it’s tears of anger or tears of sadness. You are sick of it. You are sick of yourself. You are sick of crying. You are sick of the pining, of the jealousy, of the sadness.
Steve had given Nancy everything. He tried new things with her while you were grieving your relationship, crying yourself to sleep and thinking about him like a goddamn fool while he was having the time of his life with a different girl. 
And Eddie, you try not to think about it, you try not to let the jealousy in. But you can’t push out the anger that you are feeling for him, right now. 
Or the anger that you are feeling for yourself.
How you take everything to heart. How you let everything and everyone hurt you. 
You are done. 
You are so fucking done. 
-
next chapter
-
tagging friends & mutuals
@taintedcigs @mysticmunson @littledemondani @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @succubusmunson @trashmouth-richie @xxhellfirebunnyxx @take-everything-you-can @sherrylyn628 @chrissymjstan @somethingvicked @nemesis729
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luveline · 1 year
Text
𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫
You learn how to be someone’s girlfriend. Or, 5 times Hotch raises your expectations (+1 time you raise his).
7k words, new established relationship to established relationship, lots of fluff and some small angst, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, civilian!reader, calls him aaron, basically hotch treating you well
༺༻
1. Soup. 
"Are you hungry?" Aaron asks, hands at the neck of his shirt as he loosens his tie. 
You've never seen him do that. It's a lot to take in.
"A little, are you?"  He's lucky that you remember to answer.
His smile lights you up inside and out, a warm, casual quirk. "Famished." 
"Should we make something?" 
He turns from the doorway and moves into the kitchen. You have to twist on his couch to see his movements. 
"No need. I should've asked if you like it, but I made vegetable soup. The kind with mini dumplings." 
You look down at your legs and squeeze your thighs together until your knees tap. You're too shy to go and meet him where he's standing, but perhaps sitting and having him wait on you is arrogant. And awkward. 
The couch is plush under your hands as you stand. You'd slipped off your shoes at the door, and your socked-feet slide over the tiled floor of the kitchen as you make your way to his side. Aaron lights the stove, atop which stands a tall cooking pot. 
"When did you have time to make that?" you ask, soft with awe. 
"I knew you'd be coming over. I started it this morning." 
"And if I didn't like it?" 
He turns his gaze to yours, pot lid held aloft. "Then I would've ordered in for us. You're sure this is okay?"  
You've never had somebody cook for you before. Homemade, fresh ingredients, and the intricacy of the dumplings too, it all impresses and amazes you. You feel very special. Like you're worth all the effort. 
"I'm sure. More sure if you let me try it." 
His laugh startles you for its rarity. "Okay. It's not done," he warns. 
"Just to taste it." 
He stirs the warming soup with a big spoon for half a minute, the heat on high, before scooping up some broth and holding it above a cupped palm. "It's probably not very hot," he says. 
Oh, you think, excited and sick with nerves at once. He's going to feed the soup to me. 
Something out of a movie, something you didn't know people actually did for their significant others, Aaron waits for you to open your mouth and offers the spoon. You slurp and feel heat rise to your cheeks at the clumsy sound. 
"Aaron," you say, soft and obsessed after you've swallowed, "it's really nice. You made that yourself?"  
"I can cook," he says defensively. 
You lick your lips, giggling. "I can tell. That was really good. Though it was definitely too cold." 
"Mm. It has to cook through some more. Reduce. Do you want to shower?" He puts down his wooden spoon, head tilting to one side gently. He assesses your expression, and brings a curved hand to settle over your cheek. The tip of his index finger kisses the delicate skin under your eye. "No, maybe not. You look tired." 
You probably shouldn't say something like that to your brand new girlfriend (you scream internally at the word, every single time since he asked you a week ago) but Aaron speaks factually. You don't think for a second that there's any malice there, any hidden critique. His words shine with concern. 
"It's Friday. I'm always tired at the end of the week." 
His hand falls to your shoulder. "I can imagine." 
"You can go shower, if you like. I'll watch the soup." 
"I need one, huh?" 
He must know how well-kept he looks even now. You're not sure you've ever seen him dishevelled. 
"Definitely need one," you try to tease. It comes out murmur-quiet, and Aaron takes pity and kisses your cheek. 
He leaves to shower and you 'watch' the soup — you stand at the stovetop and soak in it's emanating warmth, stirring it every now and then to prevent the bottom from burning. The shower runs muffled from the bathroom, and your mind wanders as it tends to do. It's an undeniable fact that Aaron is naked right now, the thought opening an avenue of images you've been trying not to think about all day. It's your very first time spending the night after a couple of weeks of dating, and now you're together, if Aaron wants to have sex tonight you'll say yes. He's handsome, and his build suggests a certain… tenacity. 
His hands would convince you alone. Big hands. 
You look down into the simmering pot of soup and smile harder than you have any right to smile. He's done everything right, all the romance; he'd asked you out clearly with no doubt of his intentions, which had shocked you; he'd brought you a bouquet of flowers on your first date, which had delighted you; and he hadn't tried to take you home, which had surprised you. 
Modern romance often doesn't feel very romantic. Things with Aaron are different. 
Hell, he's so sweet he probably won't make a move unless you make one yourself. 
You'd prefer to be squeaky clean tonight, you've decided, just in case. When he gets out of the shower, you'll tell him you've changed your mind.
The shower shuts off. He appears a little bit after that, in new clothes, towel around his neck and feet either side of your own as he sidles in for a damp and quick cheek kiss. 
"Sorry I took so long. Are you ready to eat?" he asks, taking the spoon from your hand to give the soup a big, gran stir. 
"Actually, could I shower?" 
If he's surprised at your changed mind he says nothing, only turns down the heat of the stove. "Of course you can. Come on, I'll show you how it all works." 
His 'come on' is accompanied with a guiding hand at the small of your back. You let yourself be guided. The heat of his touch fills your stomach and doesn't abate, no matter how cold you run the spray. 
2. Phone calls. 
It's the week after that when you're supposed to be spending the night again. You're excited for two reasons, the first and smallest being that he had been what you thought and more in bed, that itself an expectation raised, and it had felt like connection at its brightest — he'd been sweet, and he'd been rough but never, not ever once cruel. A perfect night. The second, and biggest, is that he's honestly just the nicest person you've ever met. He's your boyfriend, a phrase you don't say in front of him because he's admittedly older than you, and you can't imagine he calls you his girlfriend. Partner might be more apt. He's your boyfriend and he's openly fond of you. Openly more than that. It's new to be doted on as ardently as he dotes on you. 
He touches you like he can't believe he's touching you. He talks to you like you're gold dust, all smiles and laughs heavy with admiration, and he listens. You've never felt listened to in the way you do when you're with him. 
So many conversations are just one party waiting for the other to stop talking until it's their turn. You think, maybe, Aaron would let you talk for hours. He would listen the whole time. 
In summary, you're basically thrumming with excitement to see him again. You've missed him some, but mostly you've spent the week bouncing off of walls waiting for the next time you get to talk to him. 
His text is disheartening, to say the least. 
Hey, honey. I have to cancel our plans tonight. I'm sorry, and I'll explain as soon as I get the chance. Please take care of yourself for me until I can.
It doesn't make you mad. While it is extremely short notice, and your heart hurts to the point of frustrated tears, you know it isn't his fault. He's been clear about his job at the FBI and what that means for you both. How it will without a doubt pull him away from you during dates, the middle of the night, special occasions, the works — this had been after a small disclosure about his commitment to his son, Jack, and how he's a father first — and how it will definitely cause some strain. 
"But," he'd said, "I want you, and I want this to work. So if you can be patient with me, I'll try to make it worth it." 
He's been successful every time. After he'd cancelled your third date, he'd quickly rearranged it and apologised with a modest but beautiful bouquet of flowers. 
Somewhere between the fifth and sixth date, you hadn't seen him for two whole weeks, and every worry you'd had about his intentions had been abated by a steady stream of encouraging text messages and the occasional photograph. Nothing crazy, but sweet things, like the cookies he and Jack had made that night, captioned, I'd save one for you if I thought Jack would let me, or a sunrise in a different state, captioned, This looks like the dress you wore to Lemaira. 
Later that night, you're unhappy and frowning still, a small carton of ice cream freezing your fingers to the cardboard and a spoon in your mouth when your phone starts to ring. 
You aren't expecting it to be Aaron. You aren't in the habit of calling one another, even though you'd secretly wished he would while he's away beforehand. 
It's nearing eight o'clock. 
"What time do you call this?" you joke, smiling despite yourself. Again, the excitement that comes with talking to him wells at the surface. 
"I know, I'm sorry," he says, sounding very tired. 
You slouch down into your couch cushions, ice cream on the armrest, remote for the TV on your chest. You click the volume button down, down, down until the TV's near silent. 
"I'm kidding, mostly. Are you okay? I've been a little worried." 
Understatement of the century. You know sudden cases of violence often draw him away from Virginia, but this had been sudden sudden. The lack of information had made you think the worst, worse than serial killer and bombers and hostage situations. You'd thought Aaron was in danger himself, and then you'd tried to suffocate that thought. He'd never worry you like that even if he were. 
"I'm fine. Sorry to miss you tonight." 
"I'm sorry to miss you too," you say, voice disjointed, too earnest. You scramble to hide the depth of your feelings. "Where are you?" 
"I'm in St. Louis. Where are you?" 
You laugh, curling onto your side with the phone pressed up against your ear. "Where am I? I'm at home." 
"What are you doing?" 
"I was watching TV." 
"Yeah? Did you eat anything yet?" 
You think to the takeout you'd bought and shoved in the microwave, not hungry at the time but knowing knowing would be. "Not yet. Why are you asking?" 
"I want to know." 
"I told you in my text I would take care, Aaron." 
"Honey," he says, pet name like a warm palm over your heart, "my definition of taking care and your definition are very different. Promise me you'll eat something."
"Of course I will. Easy promise." You scratch the couch fabric absent-mindedly. "Have you eaten?" 
"Yes," he says, the sound of a closing window in the background. "It's awful how much take out I eat. All these cases, there's never any time to cook real food." 
"Why, what did you have? And surely there's some uber healthy options out there, like, a chickpea salad-" 
"That costs thirty dollars? I'm not struggling, honey, but we both know that's obscene." 
You're laughter takes on a giddy quality as you cross your leg over the other, picturing his smile as his laughter echoes breathily down the line. You really, really wish he were here right now and that you were having this conversation face to face. You know he'd smile and try to hide how smug he feels at making you laugh. His hand would reach over any gap to touch some silly part of you, forearm or collar or the skin under your ribcage. 
"Are you okay?" You say his name to drive the point home. Your voice is quiet — you're hesitant to offer, worried you're crossing a boundary. "Aaron, I know you don't like bringing it home, but you aren't home, so… I'm here." 
"I know. It's nothing I want you to worry about, there's an ongoing situation here, bomb threats coming in quicker than the local P.D can handle. They need us to vet them and figure out if any of them are real." 
You think about it for a few seconds, the silence small but not uncomfortable. If you were under that kind of pressure, you'd be hurting. Chest pains, anxiety shakes, a migraine. 
"You'll be safe?" you ask. 
"Always. I'm not in any danger. And I need to get home, I owe you a Friday." 
"You do," you mumble. 
There's the creak of a box spring mattress, and the sound of a lamp being clicked. On or off, you don't know. When Aaron speaks, his tone is dulcet and hushed but distinct. You feel it in your chest. 
"Tell me about your day," he murmurs. 
You lay it all out for him in detail. He can barely reply when you hang up, sleep thickening his affectionate, "Goodnight, honey." 
3. His bleeding heart.
"What kind of kid were you?" he asks.
You look up from your notebook, surprised. Aaron has been silent for what feels like an hour now, laid out on the picnic blanket with your sweater bundled up under his head while the sun warms your skin. 
"I was…" You let your pen roll into the centre of your notebook and close it. He's laid his paperback flat across his chest. You think he might be very interested in the answer. "It was a long time ago, but I think I was lonely." 
He nods like this is what he'd been expecting. "Me too." 
It's a gorgeous day out. The sky is a light, bright blue with few clouds. They block the sun occasionally, providing a short and bittersweet shield from the heat. The grass surrounding is shockingly green, rippling in the breeze. 
"You were?" you ask. "What were you like?" 
"I was quiet." 
"That's not surprising," you say mildly. 
"No, I guess not." 
You abandon your notebook and lay down beside him. Worrying what you look like from this angle, you cover your jaw with your hand and turn toward him ever so slightly to show you're listening. 
"I liked affection. I remember my mom used to say I was a siphon for it. I'd be all over her, and she'd have nothing left to give anyone else." 
"That's not true," you deny. Every ounce of affection that you given him, he has returned tenfold, and that's inspired a lot of kindness in you, for him and for the world. "You're like an amplifier, if anything." 
He smiles to himself and turns his gaze skyward. "I wish we'd met before." 
"Me too," you say, leaving little room for debate.
"You're so kind," — he adorns you with each word like a gift, a tiny star of praise — "I think you're the kindest person I've ever met." 
He laughs. It's a catching sound, contagious as anything. You giggle with him and shift closer. Your arms touch, your hips. 
"Baby," you murmur, almost lamenting, "d'you ever think your ability to see the good in people is- It's indicative of the good in you... You've given more of your life than most to keep other people safe. That's the kindest thing a person can do." 
He tangles your hand with his where it had been resting on your stomach. You're pretty sure you can feel every line of every fingerprint as he works your fingers together, a snug fit like one of those wooden brain teaser puzzles: How do you pull these two pieces apart? From the outside, it looks impossible!
"I think I'd be different, if I'd met you before. I'd be kinder," he says. 
You can't agree with him. It's obvious who he is. You know more about him now than you ever have before. His late wife, how she'd been the best mother they ever made. His son, and how he moulds Aaron everyday into a better man. His friends, who trust him, who adore him. All these people have a hand in who Aaron is now, and while you wish you'd been around from the start, now will have to do.
"You're plenty kind," you say. Understatement of the century. 
"Sorry," he says with a laugh, "With you-" He cuts himself off, head-shaking from side to side as he pulls your joined hands up slowly. 
Your arm bends and then turns as he pulls it toward his face. He unlinks your fingers to steer your forearm, aligning it flat over his lips. The first kiss is a surprise, light like the feathered edge of a flower petal, and the second isn't dissimilar. 
The third melts you, veritably, the parting of his lips emphasised by the dull scratch of teeth against your pulse, the wet heat of his tongue. Three becomes four, and a final fifth, crescent moons pressed into your skin like he's trying to tell you something. 
You've no clue what. You likely couldn't say which way the world turns, not when he's kissing you. Not like this. 
Aaron has an acute ability to talk without talking. Hello's and thank you's and I care about you's woven into quick kisses, the swift squeeze of his hand over the slope of your shoulder.
These ones say something you don't want to speak aloud, lest you jinx it. 
The sunlight fades. A big grey cloud covers the sun.
"I think it's gonna rain," you say. 
A raindrop splashes in Aaron's eye. 
"Fuck," he says, which is hilarious, because he never swears in front of you. You hadn't known he cussed at all. 
The downpour is slow and then sudden, spitting rain dotting over you both like a fine mist as you stand, a thicker, faster outpouring chasing your heels as you hurry to the car. You realise you can't outrun it even if you sprint, and so you stop, Aaron's hand in yours tugged like a rubber band. He bounces back into your chest with the picnic blanket under his arm, your books tucked somewhere inside. 
He doesn't ask what you're doing. He's made the same deduction as you, or maybe he trusts you, or maybe he's indulging you. 
"Your hair," he laments. 
"Doesn't matter," you say. 
You lift your chin up for a kiss. Aaron ducks down to give you one. A raindrop runs down the bridge of his nose to the tip of yours. 
4. In sickness. 
You insist that it wasn't the rain that made you sick, but honestly there's no way to tell. You'd kissed for slightly too long, and the rain had been surprisingly cold. Now you aren't very well, and you have to cancel Aaron's sleepover. 
You hold out as long as you can, but come Friday afternoon it's clear you aren't getting better. You wake to a text from Aaron, two texts, and it makes you smile through shivery coughs. 
I can't wait to see you tonight. Do you need anything before I get there? Miss you. Sent 6.26AM.
Is everything okay? Sent 9.17AM. 
Usually you'd have answer his morning text within the hour. 
Hi, I miss you too, so much, but I don't think we'll be able to see each other tonight. I've got the flu :( I'm sorry. And sorry I couldn't answer your message until now, I was sleeping. 
It's another hour before he answers. You rouse from your gross snotty stupor to squint at the phone. It's surprisingly long. 
I'm sorry it's taking me so long to get back to you, things are tense here right now. You don't have to be sorry for either, I'm glad to hear you're resting. You could have told me you were sick. Is it okay if I come and see you tonight anyways? I would love to check on you. Don't rush to answer, and call me if you can. 
You call him with reservations. 
"Is this a good time?" you ask weakly, forgoing a hello. 
It takes him a little while to speak. You assume he's leaving a room, closing a door. "Now's fine. How are you?" 
"My throat hurts and it's a little hard to breathe, but I'm sure I'll live." 
"You've been to see a doctor?" 
"It's not that bad." 
He sighs. "You sound tired. And sore. Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" 
"You don't have to baby me, I'm really okay." 
"Have you considered that I'd like to baby you?" 
Not really. You can't imagine anyone would want to deal with you. You're a mess, you look awful, you don't smell great, and you're not good company. You can't think of a single reason Aaron would want to be anywhere near you right now. 
"No," you say, "I hadn't." 
"I'd love to look after you." 
"You could be doing something fun with your Friday. You could see Jack." 
"Jack's going to Kings Dominion. And Fridays are our day, you being sick doesn't make me want to see you less."
You hadn't said that, but he'd inferred it. Of course he had. 
You and Aaron decide that your sleepover will go ahead after all. Or, he persuades you very gently. You spend three hours doing tasks that should only take one. You shower, you clean your room, and you do the dishes. By the end of it you're sweating enough to need another shower but you aren't a quitter, so you open the freezer and stick your head in, hands braced against the refrigerator door. 
You're excited to see him. You always are. Too bad you look so wiped out. 
It's almost 6.30 when you hear his knock on the door. You'd been waiting for him and started dozing at the kitchen table, your neck a mess of twisted nerves, your hand numb from supporting your head. You shake it out and open the door, sheepish. 
"Hi," you croak out. 
He has a lot of stuff with him. His familiar overnight bag, a briefcase, two grocery bags, and a bouquet. 
"Aaron, why," you moan, covering your face with one hand as you move back down the hall to let him in. 
"Not the greeting I'd hoped for." 
"I can't greet you, I'll make you sick." 
You get all the way to the kitchen and think, triumphantly, that you've escaped his 'greeting'. He puts the flowers down carefully on the kitchen counter as you try to come up with a thank you that doesn't make your eyes burn. The grocery bags are placed without ceremony on the floor, and his overnight bag falls onto the kitchen chair. You watch him unbutton his rain spattered coat, and your triumph fades when he peels out of it and instantly reaches for you. 
"Aaron," you mumble, stepping into his arms. He knows you can't say no to a hug, not after a week of not seeing him. 
"I missed you," he says, arms around your back, lips at your temple. "You're running a temperature." 
"It's not that bad. 101." 
"Honey, 101 is bad." 
"Not as bad as 102." 
"Not as bad as 102," he concedes. You can hear his voice rumbling in his throat, and feel it in his chest and yours.
He takes as much of your weight as he can, leaning back so you're forced to arc forward. Your face slips into his neck, and you're thinking, this is what it's like? To be held, sick, with nothing to give? It feels good.
"Please tell me the next time you're sick," he murmurs. 
You definitely will. If this is what it's like, roaming, cautious hands over your shoulder blades, a strong nose stroking lines against your warm forehead. 
"Thank you for the flowers." 
It's squished against his skin but he hears it. "You're welcome. Do you want me to put them in a vase?" 
"I can do it." 
"I think that might defeat the purpose. They're a gift, not an extra chore." 
"Nobody ever got me flowers before you, so it doesn't feel like a chore at all." 
He encourages your face back enough to look at you. You have to mouth breath on him because your nose is all stuffed up, and it is not something you're happy to do. You look down so he can't feel it. 
"I'm gonna do something really cheesy, and you can tease me about it later, okay?" 
You look at him from under your lashes. "'Kay." 
"Close your eyes," he whispers. 
You let your eyes shut. Aaron cradles your face in both hands and pulls your face toward his chin, in your rough approximation. 
Heat fans against your eyes. He kisses your eyelids, the left and then the right, the most gentle press of his lips you've ever felt. 
"It's killing me to see you like this," he says, and you're grateful for the pinch of humour behind it. "Couch or bed?" 
"Couch. I wanna watch a movie with you." 
"Good. I wanna watch a movie with you, too." 
Aaron does everything. You're too tired to notice, but when you're better, you'll add it all up. He makes you dinner and breakfast and lunch and enough for the day after that, too. He trims down all your flowers and places them in a vase on your window sill. He recleans your room, cleans your bathroom, and plays nursemaid diligently. He makes you take your temperature in front of him, and then he fawns and makes you hug an ice pack, stays the night again when he's supposed to go home. 
It sucks, but your temperature falls, and when your insides stop cooking themselves you start to feel better. On Sunday morning, when he has to leave, you feel the strange pang of being cared for unconditionally like the wind being knocked out of you. He'd done all of that because he cares about you. He'd wanted to see you fed and well and happy, and he hadn't gotten anything out of it in return. 
5. The test-drive.
"Hi, Jack," you mumble, rubbing wetness out of your sleep-heavy eyes. "Good morning." 
"Good morning," he says cheerfully, of his father's disposition. 
"Did you," — you yawn wide and turn your face so neither of them can see — "sleep well?" 
"Yeah, thank you. Why are you so tired?" 
Aaron's standing at the stovetop making oatmeal. You stand at the counter beside it, hips touching but facing opposite ways. "I'm still getting used to your dad's bed." 
It's true. There's something about someone else's mattress that makes you ache. 
"What is it about my mattress you can't get along with?" Aaron asks in good humour, adding a generous pinch of salt to the saucepan. 
"It's more comfortable than mine," you say with a self-satisfied laugh. 
Aaron pecks your damp cheek and skirts around you to fill three identical bowls of oatmeal next to three identical glasses of orange juice. Jack cheers when his portions are placed in front of him, and he digs in even though it's ridiculously hot. 
Aaron had explained once that he's basically trained Jack to eat it scorchingly hot by accident. Years of oatmeal straight off of the hob versus a growing boy with no patience. You watch in awe as Jack scarfs it down. 
You and Aaron are doing this thing. You've called it the test-drive in your head. He wants to see how well you and Jack get along, likely, and how well you handle living together, too. (Though you absolutely don't think you'll be moving in together quite this soon.) That's your working theory. He'd asked you if you'd be interested in staying for the week a month ago, and you had, and it had been a dream. This is week two, and it seems to be going just as well as the first. 
It's definitely revealing. To see each other's routines. And an adjustment. You have to see all the gross stuff, no avoiding it. 
Though stuff you might consider gross he enjoys. Like watching you put on body lotion, he'd loved that more than words could express. And watching him shave, you'd loved that more than you'd thought you would. You'd sat on the lip of the tub and he'd listened to your morning murmurings, half asleep and excited as always to talk to him about everything. 
Getting to know Jack more has been a joy, too. You've met him nowhere near as many times as you would've liked and done family things: bowling, pizza places, the movies, a baseball game. 
Eating breakfast together is way more fun. Especially because Jack likes you. 
As soon as you sit down he starts to tell you about school. You listen, sipping your orange juice while you wait for the oatmeal to cool from lava. 
After breakfast, the three of you head back to your respective bedrooms to get dressed. 
That's something else you adore, you and Aaron undressing and redressing together in the space in front of his closet, the intimacy of casual nudity, and the way his hand closes around your hip to move you out of the way of his shirts. 
You're pretty much inseperable until you get to the car park. A firm believer in kids receiving as much love as they can from everybody, you offer Jack a hug before you part ways everytime. Sometimes he says yes, though most times he says, "Thank you, Miss Y/N, but my hug quota is full." 
Today, he squeezes your waist really hard and says, "Have a good day bye," like it's one word.
"Have a good day, baby," you tell him, laughing as he jettisons into the passenger seat of Aaron's car. 
Aaron usually gives you a swift kiss and goodbye like his son. Today, he brings his hand to your neck. You stare him straight in his dark eyes as he does, marvelling the shock of straight lashes outlining each one, and the permanent wrinkle between his brow from frowning. 
Placing two hands on either shoulder, you use his frame to rise on tiptoes and kiss it. 
"Don't frown too much today, okay, handsome? Have a good day." 
He cups your face in both hands as your heels touch the ground. His hands are warm, kind as he pushes both palms over your cheeks and your ears. He covers them, and your heartbeat amplifies, a thumping sound fighting his skin. Then he slips his fingers behind your ears and the roaring fades. 
"I love you," he says. 
You beam at him. "Really?"
"Really. I love you, honey. Have a good day."
As if. If he thinks he can walk away after dropping that on you he's got another thing coming. 
You throw your arms around his neck and all your weight into his front, almost barrelling him over. You have to stop yourself from wrapping your thighs around him, 'cause then he really might fall over. 
You dig your face into his neck, searching for something, for the perfect place to rest your cheek. "I love you, Aaron." 
There isn't a chance in hell he didn't already know it. 
"I got you something," he says. 
You laugh in surprise and tighten your hold on him. "Why? This is gift enough." He loves you. It bounces around in your chest. 
"Because I'm not stupid enough to miss what I have right in front of me." 
You lean back so you can kiss him, ignoring his hand as it reaches into his pocket. 
"Baby," you say, a hair's width from his lips. You kiss him again for a second, thrilled, but curiosity pulls you back. "You have it now?" 
He takes a step away from you and reveals the box in his pocket, long and thin. It clicks open on a silver hinge, and inside velveteen lies a simple chain.
"Is that a diamond?" you ask, breathless. The stone at the end of the chain shines like nothing you've ever seen before. 
You don't know a thing about them other than that they're expensive. You can't see Aaron Hotchner of all people buying a fake. 
"A small one," he says modestly. 
Your eyes burn. You're happy to the point of tears but you refuse to cry. 
"And it's for me?" you ask. 
He laughs and you laugh too, the sound slightly sniffly. 
"Of course. Do you want to wear it?" 
"Now? Yes, more than anything," you say, smiling hard, cheeks appled and aching. "Are you serious?"
"More than anything." 
Corny, you think desperately. Do not cry, that's so cheesy. 
"Are you sure you don't want to wait until my birthday?" 
He gestures for you to turn around, the chain hanging from his finger. You turn, feel his hands brushing against your neck as he lays it across your chest and pulls it together behind your nape. 
"Your birthday gift is better than this." 
Better? You could burst. 
The clasp closes and he rubs his hands down the backs of your shoulders. 
You turn back around, face dipped to your chest in efforts to see the necklace. It's short but long enough to spot the diamond hanging under your collar. 
"I've never had a diamond, before," you mumble, hands pressed to your chest. Your heart bumps under your hand. 
"Thank you," you say, looking up, "baby, you didn't have to. You don't have to get me stuff like this, it's a lot." 
"I don't think it's too much. You give gifts when you're grateful. I'm grateful to love you." 
He's expecting you this time, unwavering when your arms slide over his shoulders. You breathe in the smell of his skin and he does the same, his face pressed to the top of your head.
Jack is late for school that day. You apologise to Aaron more times than you can count, and every time he only smiles and says, "It's okay. I love you." 
+1 
Aaron misses your first anniversary. 
It's a very important date to miss, and you have a right to be upset. 
But. 
You always knew from the very first date that this was something that could, unfortunately, happen. You'd been lucky to get him for your birthday, luckier still to see him on his own and treat him with the delights he deserved. You'd figured eventually something would happen to throw a spanner in the works. 
What you aren't expecting is the lack of anger. 
You aren't mad at him, not one bit. It would be okay if you were, even though it's not his fault, because this is so big. You're celebrating the best year of your life alone, and that's no fun. You and Aaron had planned to go away, two days in a fancy hotel, Jack with Jessica and no worries. 
He can't ignore a bomb threat in the capital, and he wouldn't want to. 
You know a missed anniversary is a lesser weight than innocent people dead. You know Aaron wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he didn't go. You know he regrets leaving you on such an important day. 
Maybe one day, you'll be angry with him. Today, you only miss him. 
I love you. I'm sorry. I'll be back very soon. Happy anniversary. 
He sends that after a grovelling, short phone call, in which you assure him that it's fine. Your voice is tight with tears, you miss him like crazy, and he hears it though you try to hide it. 
I will make it up to you. 
You don't have any doubts. 
You feel a little sorry for yourself, and then you send him a text of your own. 
I love you, so don't be sorry. Get back safe and sound and consider yourself forgiven. Happy anniversary, my love. 
Followed with what's likely too many hearts for good measure. 
Still, still, he doesn't believe it's okay. You know he's human, and he loves you, and that makes it easy to predict how he's feeling — worried that you're angry, worried that you'll leave him, worried this won't work for you. 
And you're only human yourself. You can't say how you'll feel in another year, or two, or five. You can't imagine how depressing it might be to miss the holidays and birthdays and anniversaries with him year after year, but you want to be patient. You want to forgive him for the things he has no hand in, and you do. 
You get a visitors pass for his office once you're cleared and take the elevator up, checking your text messages for the fifth time, just to make sure. 
I'll be home in a couple of hours, the plane touches down in two. Love you. Sent 4.53PM. 
It's the day after your anniversary, a Monday, and it's nearly 7PM. You smile at people you've seen in passing the few times you've visited his office before and don't bother trying to sit in Aaron's office, knowing it's locked while he's away. You travel the spare steps and sit at the top of the landing, hands clutching the neck of the bunch of flowers you're holding nervously. The cellophane crinkles. 
You hadn't answered him. It was cruel to leave him hanging, but you didn't expect him to come home so soon. He's too damn good at his job. 
The elevator doors open in the quiet. Barely anybody lingers now in the late hour, and the voices of the BAU echo. 
Spencer sees you first. Morgan second. They stop at the beginning of the office. 
Aaron sees you third.
You spring to stand up on your feet, and then you feel very tall and very seen and descend the steps rather than draw more attention. 
"You said seven," you say, not sure what else to say, not with people watching you. "This is definitely closer to eight." 
Aaron thankfully isn't too proud to speed walk to you. Your heart skips as you meet him, flowers crushed half to death as he gets his arm behind your neck, hooking your head in the crook of his elbow. 
He kisses you roughly. Heat floods every inch of skin, your breath rushes out of your nose with a sigh. 
He pulls back. 
"Happy anniversary," you say quietly, smiling at the sheer relief in his eyes. 
"It was yesterday," he says, quiet too. 
"Happy one year and one day, then." You push him away from you gently. "Don't suffocate your roses." 
"You got me flowers." 
"You get people gifts when you're grateful," you parrot. 
He takes a step back and accepts the flowers. On the message card, you've written, bashful and clumsy and adoring, I'm grateful to love you. One year and more. 
He moves the bouquet into one hand and wraps you up in another huh, firm-armed, chin over the top of your head, though he intersperses his embrace with dainty kisses pecked from one temple to another. 
"You aren't mad?" he asks, worried about the answer. 
"No," you say honestly. "Not mad. Missed you like crazy yesterday, but I get you today. I can make it work." 
When you break apart a second time, you both buckle under the weight of his colleagues watching.
"Thank you," Rossi speaks up, grand and wry, "we thought we'd have to endure his moping for at least a week. Your understanding spares us all." 
"Nice, Dave," Aaron says. 
"I've got your paperwork, Hotch," Morgan offers. 
Aaron has the good sense to accept it before Morgan can change his mind. His friends say goodbye, and Aaron pulls you by the hand back to the elevator bank. You couldn't wipe the smile off of his face if you tried. 
The elevator doors have barely closed when he's leaning down to kiss you again. 
"Thank you," he says. 
"You really don't have to say thank you," you murmur, bumping your shoulder with his. "You got home safe. That's all that matters." 
His next kiss is bruising. The sound of cellophane crushed between you makes you laugh. He kisses you through it, his smile pressed feverishly to yours, over and over and over.
༺༻
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the final part of ddlg harry and little/submissive y/n!!!!
in which harry is a dummy, y/n gets a little too drunk, and thanksgiving is finally good for something.
word count: 8k
content warnings: daddy dom and little/submissive relationship, alcohol, a little bit of angst, SMUT!!! (anal play, squirting, dirty talk, breeding kink, public sub drop, public play if you squint, dumbification, tiny bit of pet play.. if I missed something pls lmk lol). as stated in the first two parts, I tried to make this as accurate as possible but there are likely some things that aren't correct!! im just a girl and im sorry if something isn't portrayed right!!!!!!
thank you for reading and loving these two, while this is the last formal part of their story I will definitely be writing check-ins and blurbs for them in the future!!! enjoy :)
masterlist | talk to me
part one | part two
. . .
It doesn't take Y/N very long to realize Harry's acting weird.
Well, maybe not weird, but different. He's acting differently than he has been for the past two months, and it's giving her a bit of whiplash. She notices that it started the day after she slipped when he dropped her off at home, when he latched a collar around her neck. 
Her memory of that day is a little bit hazy; the events are more so glued together in blurry snapshots of pleasure and lust, but she does know that she had fallen into her little space while he was gone. He'd punished her for the whole butt plug incident, fucked her into oblivion, and then soaked in the tub with her before falling asleep next to her.
And really, it wasn't that different from their usual scenes. The dynamic was the same, as far as Y/N can remember, it may have just been a little bit more intense.
So why is Harry acting like this?
Instead of stopping by nearly every day to make sure she's eaten and rested, he'll just text her. If she hasn't eaten lunch or dinner yet, he'll order her food to her house instead of bringing her a homemade meal or stopping somewhere on the way. When he does come over, it seems like he's always in a hurry to leave — yesterday, he picked her up from a closing shift at the bakery and barely spoke to her in the car. He came inside, quickly cooked her a dinner, and left before she'd even finished eating, mumbling out some excuse about having to feed his sister's cat.
Worst of all, they haven't slept together in a week.
It's all overwhelming for Y/N, but this time, it's in the worst way possible. She feels incredibly down as the days go on, and she spirals and wonders what she did wrong to make him act this way. She can feel the breakup coming from a mile away, but she assumes that because it's Harry, he'll bake her a cake and buy her a kitten just because he doesn't want to be too mean about it.
She hates to admit it, but she's grown attached to Harry. And she really, really doesn't want to let him go.
It's what led her to asking Naomi to grab lunch on her day off. Naomi hasn't reached out too much lately so it's been awhile since they'd seen one another, but she's known Harry far longer than she has. 
(And yeah, Y/N feels kind of shitty about making plans with Naomi only to ask about Harry, but she has a nagging feeling that she's only kept her around because she feels bad she doesn't have friends outside of them.)
"I'm sorry, you and Harry are what?"
(She supposes she should have expected this type of response.)
"We're sleeping together," Y/N answers in a pathetic attempt to sound casual, keeping her eyes glued to the turkey sandwich on her plate, "But he's been acting kind of off lately, and I wasn't sure if you guys knew something I didn't."
"Well no one knew that," Naomi mutters, stabbing her fork into her salad and stuffing some lettuce into her mouth. "But to address your concerns, no, I don't know anything. Harry's notoriously private about his love life."
She clears her throat and nods. "I think he's gonna end things soon."
"Hmm, yeah," Naomi hums through a mouthful of food, "I don't think he does the whole friends with benefits thing. Lea tried once and he rejected her, it was kind of a mess. She couldn't stand to be in a room with him for like, two months."
"We're not sleeping with other people," Y/N quickly adds. "It's sort of an exclusive arrangement."
Still, Naomi shrugs her shoulders, and it doesn't soothe any of Y/N's worries.
"He may have told you that, but I honestly doubt it, babe. I'm sorry he broke your heart. He can be kind of an asshole in that way."
If anything, Y/N feels even worse now. The gears in her brain are turning too fast and she's starting to feel nauseous, putting the puzzle pieces together and envisioning what her life will be like without Harry after she's gotten so used to him taking care of her.
"Anyway, Bria is having a party this weekend," Naomi says, breaking her out of his spiraling thoughts, "You should come. It'll get your mind off things and you can find someone new to fuck."
She winces at her crude terminology, not because she's offended by it but because she thinks what she and Harry are doing is more than just fucking.
Aren't they?
Forcing down a sip of her Diet Coke, Y/N nods. "Yeah, I'll be there."
. . .
From: H
Can I come over tonight?
Y/N bites her lip as she reads Harry's text for the fourth time. Since getting home from lunch with Naomi, she's been stewing in a series of emotions: First, sadness, followed by frustration and anger, then sadness again, then acceptance. She's managed to occupy herself with some re-runs of Jeopardy, even if it reminds her of him.
She doesn't know what the right thing to do is. What if he wants to come over because he's ready to end things? She supposes she's just putting off the inevitable, but she's been broken up with enough times and she knows how much more painful this one will be. She's not prepared for that, even if she wants to be.
Sighing, she finally makes a decision, tapping her thumbs quickly against the screen.
Y/N: hey sorry i can't do tonight. think im coming down w something, i don't feel that well
H: Do you need anything? I can bring soup and medicine, whatever you need.
Y/N: no im ok, thank you tho
H: Let me know if you think of anything.
H: Maybe later this week if you're feeling better?
Y/N: yea maybe
Tears are already clouding her vision as she locks her phone and tosses it across her couch. Desperately, she wonders why the guy she's fallen for just can't like her back.
. . .
Harry knows he's fucking up.
He wants to smack himself across the face and tell himself to pull it together, but he can't. Every single cell and bone in his body is begging him to go over to Y/N's house and make it all better, and instead, he just sits on the couch, replaying those words over in his brain. Her swollen parted lips and eyes fluttered closed, the way it sounded so effortless falling from her mouth. I love you. 
He wanted to say it back. But that wasn't part of the arrangement.
She wanted someone to dominate her, to take care of her. Who would be if he took advantage of something she said after nearly two hours of play, when she'd been in her little space all day? It wasn't something he felt morally right about, but he knows he wasn't being any better. He couldn't hold himself to high standards when he was pushing her away.
It's why he's so down and out on Saturday night. Normally, he'd be snuggled up with Y/N, watching some movie or TV show, usually after or before an intense scene. Sometimes it served as a precursor to foreplay with the way he'd stroke over her thighs and play with her hair, watching as she became increasingly restless. Other times, it's what they did to unwind, a form of aftercare for both parties.
But tonight, he's not doing that. He's at home alone, confused, because Bria just texted him that she's having a party tonight and everyone's there — including Y/N.
He doesn't like that she singles her out like that. He knows that some of the girls in the group don't particularly like her because she's quiet and shy and rather reserved about her personal life. (He understands why she's that way now.) He doesn't even think Naomi is a good friend to her, but he would never go out of his way to tell her that — ultimately, she's capable of making her own decisions. However, she'd sent him some excuse about not being able to hang out a few days ago, claiming that she was sick and yet, tonight she was at a party?
Harry couldn't live with that.
So he fires off a text to Bria, telling her that he'll be there soon, dressing quickly and throwing himself together. When he's driving over to Bria's place, he makes a mental promise to himself, pledging that as long as Y/N doesn't hate him, he won't return home without her.
. . . 
Y/N is drunk, and she hates being drunk.
The last time she consumed a fraction of this amount of alcohol was the night she spilled her guts to Harry. Tonight, she's downed every shot that's been passed her way. She's not sure what she's looking to achieve — she doesn't want to go home with anyway and the only person she really wants to be with is Harry — and it makes her sad. So, so helplessly sad.
Despite being deep underwater, Y/N is cognizant enough to know that no one at this party really cares for her wellbeing. They were eager to get her drunk, but once she started swaying on her feet with hazy eyes, they stopped caring. Games of beer pong and flip cup were ongoing as she sat in the kitchen, propped up on the counter with her head against the cabinets. 
She feels so stupid, it makes her want to cry.
. . .
Harry attempts to play it cool when he arrives at Bria's house.
Everyone welcomes him, excited that he made it, but they have no idea that his presence has nothing to do with wanting to party. He's here for the girl who begs him to snap a collar around her neck and push a plug into her ass. The girl he happens to be very in love with.
Naomi bats her eyelashes at him and hands him a glass of wine; an attempt to schmooze him when she tells him she picked out this bottle just for him. He smiles politely. 
"Have you seen Y/N? Bria mentioned she was here."
Naomi's eyebrows raise, a defensive look crossing onto her face. "Why are you looking for her?"
"We just need to talk about something," he replies dismissively, uninterested in revealing any details to her, "So, is she here? Or did she leave already?"
She crosses her arms over her chest. "She got pretty fucked up when she got here. She's kind of a mess, y'know? I don't even know if she's here or not."
"What do you mean?" Harry asks, concern and worry bubbling in his stomach, "She doesn't like to drink."
"Well, she sure liked all the shots everyone was giving her."
He closes his hands into tight fists, stunned at how careless these people could be. He couldn't believe he considered them friends at a certain point.
"Where did you see her last?" he eventually questions, pushing past the anger growing in his chest.
Naomi thinks for a moment. "I think Ren may have passed her in the kitchen. Not sure, though."
She's apparently finished with this conversation, clearly annoyed that she didn't get what she wants (Harry knows she's been trying to recreate that one night they made out years ago, but he's never been especially interested). He huffs and pushes past everyone else standing around in the living room, ignoring anyone who tries to start a conversation. When he walks into the kitchen, his eyes immediately find her defeated posture, her shoulders slumped over with eyes half-shut. 
"Y/N," he says, rushing over to her. He's not sure if she's even conscious, so he gently pats at her cheek. "Baby, are you alright?"
Her eyes flutter open, a look of confusion immediately taking over. "Harry?"
"Are you okay, Y/N? What happened?"
"Nothing," she mumbles through red-stained lips, "Why're you here?"
She's slurring her words and he swallows harshly, taking in her rough composure. She looks so tired and it breaks his heart to think that he could have caused this.
"Heard you were here and I wanted to make sure you were okay." he murmurs out, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear, "Are you having a fun time?"
He already knows the answer when she shakes her head, her eyebrows furrowed. "No. Hate being drunk."
"I know, baby," Harry coos, "Would you be okay with me taking you home? Get you all cozy in your bed?"
If she's angry with him, her level of drunkenness has made her forget about those feelings because she nods, making grabby hands at him. He chuckles and helps her down from the countertop, immediately wrapping a supportive arm around her waist.
"My car's just parked outside. Do you think you can make it there?"
"Mhm."
With a gentle smile on his lips, he tugs her out of the kitchen and guides her to the front door. He can feel eyes on them and he assumes Naomi is likely leading the pack, but he doesn't care. Frankly, he's fine if this is the last time he sees most of these people — he doesn't think he wants to continue friendships with anyone who'd want to hurt Y/N.
She's quiet as he helps her into the car, buckling her seatbelt for her and closing the passenger side door once she's safe. He's quick to do the same for himself, churning the ignition and flicking the heat on to shield her from the chilly autumn air.
"Do you feel sick at all?" Harry asks as he pulls out of his parking spot. She shakes her head. "Okay, lemme know if that changes, lovebug."
They don't exchange any more words on the way to Y/N's place. Once he's parked, he turns to look over, only to find her slumped in her seat with closed eyes, steady puffs of air coming from her nose. His heart twitches — he wishes they were coming home from a date or something romantic, but he's reminded quite quickly of her drunken state.
He leaves her in the car for a moment to use his spare key to unlock her front door. When he returns, he gently scoops her body up and out of the car. Her eyes flicker open and he hushes her, kicking the door closed. 
"Can walk," she mutters out, and he nods, letting her down once they're safely in her home.
"I didn't wanna wake you up, that's all."
Y/N shrugs and kicks her shoes off, though she loses her balance and sways, Harry quickly coming to her side to steady her by the elbow.
"Are you breaking up with me?"
He looks down at the doe-eyed girl in front of him, sniffling as the words float from her lips. His stomach flutters with anxiety as he watches her eyes get watery, immediately using his thumb to wipe away the moisture from spilling over.
"Why would you ask that?" he murmurs, placing a hand to her hip.
"You don't like me," Y/N answers matter-of-factly. "And you've been avoiding me."
He sighs. He knows this isn't the right time to talk things through, especially because she's only saying these things given her swimming mindset. He hates that her mind even floated to such places, but if he's being honest, he isn't surprised — he thinks he would assume similarly if their roles were swapped.
"Can we talk about this in the morning?" Harry asks softly.
She shrugs her shoulders, letting her gaze fall to her feet. "You can just do it now. I don't wanna remember anything you have to say if that's the case."
"Y/N, stop it," he says with a shake of his head, attempting to guide her up the stairs. He's slightly impressed that despite her wobbly legs, she stays put. "I'm not ending things."
"Why wouldn't you?" she fires back, looking back up at him with a defiant look in her eyes, "You promised me you'd take care of me and— and for the past week or so, you've done anything but. You've just stressed me out and made me feel bad."
Harry swallows as guilt begins to crawl its way back up his spine. He knows she's right. She has every right to be upset. 
"I know," he mumbles, nodding his head, "I know. I haven't been a good dominant. I'm sorry."
"That's a shit excuse. I've heard that so many times before from guys who didn't treat me right from the start. You're different, Harry."
"Y/N..." he's getting frustrated now, disgruntled by how stubborn she apparently gets when she's drunk, "You're right about everything, but this isn't the time to talk this through. I want to do it when you're sober."
She rolls her eyes and if things were normal, Harry knows he would've grabbed her by the hips and leaned her over the steps to spank her. Instead, he lets out a breath and nudges her in the direction of her bedroom. 
"C'mon, let's get you to bed."
Y/N's protests cease after that and Harry's secretly grateful for it. She's sobered up enough to take her makeup off and change into her pajamas as he fetches her a glass of water and some Advil to take. He places them on her nightstand as she crawls into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin.
"Your apartment's still freezing," he murmurs, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "I'll call a repair guy tomorrow."
"Are you staying then?" she asks softly, letting her eyes close the second she smushes her cheek into the pillow.
"I will if you'd like me to."
"Okay," she mumbles, "I hope you don't break up with me tomorrow."
He lets out what feels like the thousandth sigh that evening. "Stop saying that. I'm not going to."
Y/N simply shrugs.
. . .
The next morning, Y/N wakes up with a throbbing headache. Before she even opens her eyes, she can feel embarrassment warming every cell of her body, but she can't place a finger on why. She knows something happened last night but things get a little... blurry at a certain point; her last solid memory taking shots with Naomi and Lea. From there, she has a small inkling of what happened, mainly just recalling her sitting in the kitchen by herself when she started feeling woozy and tired.
When she finally blinks her mascara-crusted eyes open (she thought she took her makeup off last night, but maybe she did a shit job of it), she nearly jumps when she realizes there's someone laying next to her.
That someone being Harry. 
He has his reading glasses on and he's scrolling on his phone. Through squinted eyes, she reads the words heat repair guy best ratings in his Google search. When he realizes that she's awake, he locks his phone and clears his throat.
"Hey," he says, licking his lips, "How are you feeling?"
"Confused," she croaks out, lifting her head slightly to look up at him, only to be met with a pounding ache in her temples. 
"Here, be careful," he mumbles, leaning over to his side to grab something from the nightstand. He hands here two pieces of toast and two Advil. "You should eat this before you take anything. You were pretty wasted last night, I figured your hangover would be rough."
She hums in appreciation and takes a bite of the toast, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. "What are you doing here?"
He's not surprised that the details are hazy for her, so he flips onto his side to face her. "Bria told me about the party and mentioned you were there. I wanted to see you so I went, but you were, um, drunk and... by yourself. I took you home, that's all."
"Hm," Y/N nods, "Yeah, I remember getting drunk with everyone. I don't remember you being there except for us arguing here."
"We didn't really argue. You were just being... stubborn."
"About what?"
Harry sighs. "You wanted to talk about the state of our relationship and were convinced I was going to break up with you."
A beat. And then, "Oh."
"That was never my plan, by the way," he replies, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers, "I was never going to end things."
She shrugs her shoulders and places her empty plate on the floor, tossing back the Advil. 
"I know I haven't been the best to you lately. I've been having a hard time trying to figure out how to approach things."
"Approach what?" she bites, laying back down. "I— all I know is that one day things were fine, and the next they weren't. You weren't being the same and I didn't know what I did wrong."
"You didn't do anything wrong," he shakes his head, "Just... you said something. When you were in your little space."
"I say a lot of things when I'm in my little space."
"Yeah, but this was... like, different."
"How, different?"
"More serious, I guess."
"Harry," she huffs, fisting the comforter in her hands, "I can't guess something I said when I wasn't being myself."
"You told you love me."
Y/N's head whips to the side and she immediately winces, shutting her eyes. He cringes and reaches out to touch her temples, gently applying a bit of pressure and rubbing them. It's silent for a moment as he massages her head.
"I'm sorry," she eventually mumbles, "You were probably freaked out. I'm sure I didn't mean to say it."
"Don't be sorry. I would never hold your emotions against you."
Still, she wants to hide her face in the blankets. She's embarrassed, that much is obvious. She doesn't even know if she actually loves Harry; a lot things come out when she's in her little space, some of which she means and some of which she doesn't. She supposes it's fair that he seems so freaked over it.
"I wish you told me sooner. I could've... explained myself. Maybe."
"Explained yourself?"
Y/N shrugs and lays back against the pillows. Harry follows her lead, tilting his neck so he can look at her.
"I can't say for certain that I love you or not, I've never been in love," she explains quietly, feeling her cheeks warm at the unexpected vulnerability spilling out of her, "Don't you think you could say things when you're dominating me that you don't necessarily mean? You degrade me sometimes and I know those things aren't true."
Harry thinks for a moment, pinching his lip between his fingers. "I guess, yeah."
"I would tell if you if I knew for sure, Harry. But I don't."
He nods and rolls onto his back. He doesn't know why but he feels... sad? Let down, maybe? He'd been under the impression that she loved him and, well... maybe he was okay with that.
"I'm sorry." she repeats softly. He shakes his head and reaches out for her hand, grasping it gently and giving it a small squeeze.
"Don't be. It was stupid. I overreacted."
"Thank you for rescuing me last night," Y/N murmurs, squeezing his hand back.
He pushes down the feelings of disappointment and forces a small smile on his lips. 
"Anytime."
. . .
Harry tries to go back to normal after that. 
He stops being so avoidant, which makes a big difference. He and Y/N are back to their near-daily hangouts, and it's easy to fall back into the routine they established before any of this happened. They're even having sex again, with Y/N readily falling into her little space every time he ties her to the bed, overstimulates her until she's crying, and fucks her open with his cock until he comes deep inside her. They never use condoms anymore, either, and the added layer of intimacy only contributes to what Harry realize shortly after that morning in Y/N's bed: he's in love with her.
He guesses he's known it for awhile, he just didn't want to admit it to himself. But when she explained why she said it, he felt so bummed that it only made sense. He'd wanted her to love him.
But Y/N is Y/N, shy and oblivious and rarely the first to bring up her feelings, so he leaves it at that. He can't think of a worse fate than them actually ending things for good this time, so he keeps his emotions to himself, locked up tight for no one to ever know.
This is a good method, he decides.
Until they're in Y/N's favorite bookshop, perusing through the section titled "BookTok" (he doesn't know what that means, but she clearly does since she has a stack of four books in her hand) and he sees it. 
The familiar moony-eyed gaze, batted eyelashes, spit swollen lips. Tugging at his hand, latching onto his arm every second she can, when the word falls from her lips.
"Daddy."
He looks down with wide eyes. She never calls him that when they're in public, but now she's blinking owlishly, nibbling on the fingernails of the hand that isn't attached to Harry's arm.
"Are you alright, baby?" he asks quietly, brushing a piece of her hair out of her eyes.
"Mhm," she nods, grinning up at him, "Feeling little. 's that okay?" 
He smiles gently, loving this side of her, but concerned that it's happening when they're out and about. He's never experienced a sudden sub drop before, but he knows that he doesn't want to make her feel unwanted, as if she's doing anything wrong.
"Of course, bunny," he murmurs. "Can daddy take you home, then?"
"Yes, please. Startin' to ache."
With raised eyebrows, he nods quickly, lightly tugging her head in the direction of the register. He buys her books for her, grateful that she's decided to occupy herself with the sticker display before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her to his car. He buckles her in to make sure she's safe, her books piled neatly in her lap, and gets in on the other side.
She's quiet as she flips through one of her new novels while Harry periodically glances over at her to make sure she's doing alright. It's only when she starts squirming in her seat that he puts a hand over her thigh, squeezing gently. 
"We'll be home soon, baby. Just hang in there for me."
"Hurts," she pouts, and Harry's heart jumps, "Please— can I— will you?"
He swallows, quickly looking over as she wiggles around. In any other situation, he'd say no — they have a pretty firm no-touching-herself rule when he's not there, but he's never seen her drop into her little space so suddenly before. Hesitantly, he nods, stopped at a red light as he reaches up to pluck at the waistband of her leggings. 
"Does my baby just need to cum?" he asks as she quickly shimmies the material down. 
"Need you to touch me." she whines, hooking her thumbs under her panties and sliding them to the middle of her thighs.
"Okay, okay," he murmurs. The light turns green and he presses on the gas, moving his hand up to hover over her core. Even with the distance between them, he can see how much she's glistening. "Did you make a mess for daddy? Just walking around, having a nice day, and your little pussy got all wet for me?"
"Yes," she gasps, spreading her pussy lips with his fingers.
He begins to thumb at her clit, pressing small circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves. She's already whimpering in her seat, eyes falling closed as she wraps her own hand around his wrist, pulling him closer. 
"F-feels so good," Y/N mewls, grinding her hips down in time with his hand.
"Such a good girl for daddy," he tries to ignore the straining in his pants as her arousal readily coats his fingers just from a few swirls around her clit. "Cum for me whenever you're ready, bunny. Show me how good you are."
Thankfully, he's turning onto his street as the knot in her core unravels, breathy whimpers and broken calls of his honorific a clear indicator that she's reached her peak. He groans as he feels her pussy contracting, back arched against the leather of the seat. 
"Fuck," he mutters, pulling into the driveway, "You're so fucking beautiful." 
She barely has a second to breathe before he throws the car in park and unbuckles her seatbelt. He grabs her face between his hands and smushes their lips together, a surprised squeak sounding from her mouth. 
"D-daddy," she gasps, her lips curling into a smile as he squeezes her hip. 
"My good girl, yeah?" he grins, breaking apart to press their foreheads to one another. "You make daddy so happy."
Y/N giggles. She's still in her floaty headspace but with one orgasm in, it's less desperate and more bubbly. A reminder of how much she adores Harry, even with the rose-tinted glasses of her little space. 
"Need more," Y/N breathes, leaning back in to peck his lips, "Please? Want your cock, want you to— to cum deep inside me."
"I know, bunny." he coos, ignoring the way his length twitches in his pants at her needy tone. He reaches up to press a kiss to her forehead. "C'mon, let's go inside. Wanna take you properly."
As soon as she nods, Harry clamors out of the car and winds around to the other side to open the door for her. With her pile of books in her hand and her flushed cheeks, evident of a recent orgasm, he intertwines their fingers together and helps her to the front door, quickly unlocking it. 
Harry's no psychiatrist or expert on the manner, but one of the most interesting parts of Y/N being in her little space is that she doesn't even necessarily realize what she's doing. They've spoken about it before and she's revealed that there have times where she's been so deep under, she doesn't have all of her memories. It's a scary thought, but in a stroke of complete and utter honesty, she's explained to him that she trusts him implicitly — to take care of her when her brain is fuzzy, to never take advantage of her or push her beyond her limits. 
Truthfully, Harry should've known then that he was in love with her.
And when she waltzes into his apartment, placing her books on the entryway table like she lives here, he's immediately wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer, until her back is pressed up against his chest. She giggles out his honorific and it makes him smile into her hair — god, he loves her so much it might make him sick — before he mumbles out instructions to go upstairs to get undressed for him.
As always, she does as she's asked, ever keen on pleasing him. He gives her a moment as he stands at the bottom of the stairs, taking a deep breath and running his hand over his face. He's never felt so gone over a girl before, and he's managed to keep it together with Y/N this far — but seeing the way she slipped today and knowing it's just another way of showcasing how deeply she trusts their relationship... it's almost too much.
When he does go upstairs, he's instantly reminded of how uncomfortably hard he is. His eyes wander over her naked body, sprawled out across his bed, her feet flat on the bedding with her legs arched at the knee. She's being good — there have been times where he's found her already toying with her clit or sinking the tip of her finger in, but her hands are at her sides today.
"Good girl," Harry murmurs out as he undoes his belt, the leather falling to the floor. "Tell daddy what you want."
She hums, likely unused to getting a say in the foreplay of their scenes. He realizes that she may not know how to answer, so he attempts to help her along.
"Do you wanna be plugged in your bum? Tied up? Edged?" he asks, clad only in his briefs as he places a knee on the bed and wraps a hand around her ankle. "Tell me why daddy's girl needs."
"Want a plug, please," she says softly, allowing him to stretch her legs out, "Just... just wanna be filled."
"Filled, hm?" he teases lightly, reaching under the bed to rifle through the small box of sex toys. She had a bit of a collection of plugs at home, so she'd brought over a few to keep at his place a month or so back (that had been an interesting day, when he thought she had books or extra clothes in her tote bag only to be met with toys). He pulls out the smallest one since, if he's being honest, the need to be inside her is overwhelming, and he doesn't know how long he can play with her ass before he loses his mind.
"Flip onto your tummy, angel girl." he instructs as he pulls his tee and sweatshirt off. She silently does as she's told, pressing her cheek into one of Harry's pillows. She's instantly flooded with scents of his shampoo and cologne, woody and musky and intensely comforting, and it makes her squeeze her thighs together. 
Everything about him makes her warm and gooey inside, as if she's coming to the one place — or person — that always feels like home, no matter how awful of a day she's had. Akin to struggling through a snowstorm, the chill pinging through her body and down to her bones; when she's with Harry, it's like being served her favorite bowl of warm soup and being wrapped in a fuzzy blanket fresh out of the dryer.
Harry is her home.
She's floating through this revelation when he pushes her ass cheeks apart, a soft gasp sounding from her mouth when he runs a lubed fingertip around the ring of muscles. 
"Such a pretty hole," he murmurs, and she whimpers when she feels him spit, the saliva landing on her asshole, "Love filling you up, you know that? Every last one of these gorgeous holes."
She moans when he fits his finger inside, pushing it all the way to the knuckle. He knows she's experienced with anal so he doesn't feel like he has to be as precious about the process, knowing that she adores the sensation.
"Too bad daddy'll never share you with anyone though. No one will ever get to see how your ass and pussy squeeze around me... that's just for daddy, isn't it?"
Y/N muffles through a moan and he tuts as he pushes a second finger in. 
"That's not an answer, bunny. Try again."
She shutters out a sigh and slowly blinks her eyes open, trying her to best not to be overwhelmed by him stretching her out. 
"'s just for you, daddy."
"What is, angel?"
"My holes, daddy."
"Good girl," he mumbles, withdrawing his fingers. His cock twitches as he watches her ass gape ever so slightly, the loss of anything inside instantly making her feel empty. It's quickly over, though, because he's rubbing the tip of the lubed plug over her hole. "Deep breath, sweetheart, you know the drill."
Despite doing this numerous times, the stretch never quite gets old for Y/N. (Admittedly, Harry never tires of the view, either.) When her muscles swallow up the thick of the plug, revealing the pink bejeweled end, he groans, tapping it lightly.
"Does that feel better, baby?" 
"Uh-huh."
"What do you say?"
"Thank you, daddy."
He smirks and gently pats the backs of her thighs, a wordless gesture to flip back over. She does, her eyelashes fluttering at the feeling of the plug slightly wiggling inside of her, pressing deep against her walls. 
She leans up onto her elbows, watching as he palms his length through the material of his underwear. With wide eyes, she looks up at him, trying to ignore the way she can feel her arousal dripping down the inside of her thighs, making a sticky mess.
"What, bunny? Why are you looking at me like you're expecting something?"
Y/N pouts and Harry has to try not to smirk down at her. 
"Use your words, angel."
Her pout deepens. They both know what she wants — her pussy is all but screaming for attention — and it's embarrassing to have to admit it. She adores the way he knows her body, but he's clearly feeling just a little meaner tonight by making her verbalize all of the filthy things running through her brain. 
"Want you here, daddy." She mumbles cutely, bucking her hips up slightly. He hums and uses a finger to stroke over her mound, down to her crease where her juices are steadily collecting. 
"Here?" He asks mockingly, teasing her folds with light movements. It's not enough for her to receive any pleasure, instead just causing her to wiggle around as she attempts to guide him to her pulsating hole. 
"Inside," she all but huffs, and he chuckles, removing his touch altogether. 
"Ah, where'd my good girl go?" He smirks, "You know that's not how you ask. Plus, if you keep squirming around like this, I'll have to tie you up."
Her stomach clenches at the thought; he's always more keen on edging her until she's crying when he ties her up. She's not in the mood for that tonight — she already feels like he's been edging her by refusing to give into her — so she puffs out a breath, her eyebrows furrowed in frustration. 
"Want you in my pussy, please." 
"That's all you had to say, baby," Harry murmurs. She wants to roll her eyes but she knows she'll only get spanked for it, so she nods, reveling in the sensation of his hands back on her as he separates her lips, a cooing sound forming from the back of his throat at his eyes gaze over her swollen pussy. "You have a filthy little pussy. Did you know that, bunny?"
She shakes her head. 
"Don't lie to daddy," he utters, delivering a swift slap to her clit. It makes her gasp, the quick sting that's gone just as quickly as it came. "You wouldn't be begging for my cock all the time if you didn't."
Some form of an "uh huh" leaves her mouth and he chuckles. Slowly, his fingertip trails down her crease and to the place she needs him most, circling her hole once before pushing in. Her back arches and her eyes squeeze closed, immediately grateful to finally receive something. 
"You'll take anything I give you, won't you?" Harry continues as he pumps his finger, "My fingers, my tongue. My cock, of course. Even my cum — made you daddy's little cumslut, didn't I?"
She moans loudly and nods her head, her hair forming messy knots at the friction. 
"L-love it," she stutters, the knot in her stomach winding up tightly, "Love feeling your cum inside me, daddy."
"I know you do." He purrs, pushing another finger in. "Bet you'd let me get you all swollen with it if I wanted. Carrying my baby around like the little slut you are."
They're both too wound up to even realize what he's said. They've never breached this territory before, never even considered if a future was in the cards for them. But Y/N's already whining over it before Harry has a chance to second guess himself, her pussy squeezing his fingers rapidly; a telltale sign that her peak is but a few moments away. 
"I would, I would," she chants as she pants loudly, "Fuck— fuck, I'm yours, daddy, I—"
Her words are cut off by the throaty moan that parts her lips, the rope in her core finally splitting. It's so much, so good, her muscles contracting around his fingers as he works her through it, never ceasing his praises. 
"There's my girl."
"So fucking beautiful for me."
"God, I got so lucky with you. Fuck."
Her pussy is drooling over his hand now, leaking down to the plug still firmly inside of her. He bites his lip at the visual, her hole still throbbing in haphazard pulses as he frees his cock from the confides of his underwear, desperate to feel her. 
With fluttering eyes, she blinks her eyelashes open as she watches him, her mind filled with fuzzy static. She doesn't even realize she's leaked spit out of her mouth until he smiles gently, using soft fingertips to wipe it away.
"Already cock dumb, sweetheart?"
She nods.
"Can you take more, or are you done? Squeeze my hand if you want to be done."
She doesn't — although her mind is bleary and struggling to string together coherent thoughts, the idea of not having Harry inside of her seems terrible. She can tell he looks concerned (his eyebrows are knit together ever so slightly as he strokes up and down her arm, waiting for her to say her safe word), but she has no plans of breaking now.
"More," her mouth finally forms around the syllables, pushing it out hoarsely, "Can do it."
"Yeah?" he asks through raised eyebrows. "Are you sure?"
Again, she nods. Hesitantly, he shimmies up the length of her body, knees pressed into the comforter with his length hot and heavy in his palm. 
"You know what to do if it's too much. Safe word or squeeze my hand three times."
And then finally — finally — after what seems like hours of teasing and edging (and, quite frankly, it could have been hours; Y/N's too foggy to know), he pushes his cock inside of her and everything feels right. So right, so good, so perfect. 
Her jaw drops open and she leans her head against the crook of his neck, his own groans filling the otherwise quiet room. They're not typically this silent, especially when he first enters her — she's usually whimpering and he's teasing her, calling her a dog in heat or something along those lines — but it's just so... fulfilling, and satisfying, that she can't even put it into words.
When he builds up to a steady pace, mewls begin to break free from her throat, her eyes rolling back as she lays down against the pillows again. He leans back onto his heels and pushes her thighs up against her knees, looping his arms around them to keep her there. He's far deeper that way — they can both feel it — and he gets the prettiest views of her fucked out face and plugged up ass. 
"Shit — you're so good, my fuckin' girl."
Too hazy to answer, she just nods, echoing his words. "Your girl."
"Yeah? Gonna take my cum, sweetheart? Want me to fuck it deep into you?"
"P-please," she babbles, reaching down between their bodies to play with her clit, "Want— want your babies, wanna be yours, please daddy."
"My sweet girl wants to be a mama?" he's clenching down his teeth so harshly he's nervous he may break something, "I'll give you anything, baby, pump my cum so deep in your womb you won't even remember your fuckin' name."
Chants of please, please, please are all that can leave her at this point, deft fingers rolling over her clit as she feels her third orgasm rapidly approaching. He knows it, too, and he groans at the sensation of her pussy clenching over his cock.
"Cum for me one more time and I'll do it. My fertile little pussy, hm? Pretty fucking girl gonna be the prettiest mama."
That's all it takes for her to explode around him, this time gushing out clear bursts of liquid. He groans and curses, the sight instantly sending him to his own edge. In the back of his mind, he knows that squirting all over his torso and legs will put her to the final brink of exhaustion, and he's internally grateful that he can let go and make good on his promise to her.
So, he does. He finishes deep inside her, pushing his hips all the way up against her bum as his balls throb and empty, fucking his cum as far as it'll go. They're a mess of liquids and sweat and they both know it's gross, but there's not a single place either one of them would rather be.
When her eyelashes flitter open and she looks up at him, an exhausted smile forming on her lips, he swears he's never seen anything more beautiful.
. . .
"What are your plans for the holidays?"
Harry raises his eyebrows as he spoons some more miso soup into his mouth. It's a gloomy Saturday evening, with the temperatures finally dropping down to appropriate autumnal climates. Y/N came over this morning to pick up a book he recommended for her, but — as if either one hadn't expected it — ended up staying all day, basking in the cozy glory of Harry's apartment. They snuggled up on the couch, watching Jeopardy reruns, taking turns napping and retrieving snacks and drinks for the other.
"Well," he clears his throat, "I'm not American so I don't really celebrate Thanksgiving. And Christmas is a bit far away, so I'm not sure. Why?"
She shrugs, pulling her knees up to her chest. "My sister was asking if I'm coming home for Thanksgiving."
"Ah. Are you?"
"I hadn't really thought about it."
"Why? Isn't it coming up?"
She nods her head, occupying her fingers with a loose thread at the end of Harry's tee shirt that she had thrown over her body.
"Yeah. I just... I don't know if it's stupid, but I was curious about what you were doing. Before I made any decisions."
Harry's heart thumps in his chest, his entire body warming at her taking his plans into consideration. 
"That's sweet of you, baby. Hadn't really thought about it, though."
Again, she nods, and he thinks that may be the end of the conversation. He doesn't want to impose, especially since he thinks he's been doing particularly well with the whole not-confessing-his-love thing, so he unmutes the TV and directs his attention back to the screen.
"Wait!" she blurts out, and he mutes it again through furrowed brows, "What if you... like, came with me?"
"For Thanksgiving?"
"Yeah," she bites her lip, nerves apparent on her face, "It's no pressure, my sister's hosting just 'cos she just bought a house with her girlfriend and they have two dogs that are really cute, and my dad might be there but he's not one of those weird hover-y dads that care about who I bring around, not that he wouldn't care but it would be weird to have to explain how we met, and my mom is probably spending it with my step-dad so it'll be pretty low-key, and—"
"Y/N." Harry cuts her off with a smirk before setting his bowl of soup down on the table. "Breathe. You're gonna pass out, I've never heard you talk so fast."
She takes a deep breath and he smiles, murmuring out a good as he turns to face her.
"I would love to come and celebrate Thanksgiving with you. That sounds really nice. Thank you for inviting me."
"Really?"
"Of course," he replies easily. "I love any time we spend together."
Her cheeks warm and she nods, as if she's convincing herself he's being truthful. 
"Um... so, like, how should I introduce you?" she asks, and there are so many butterflies swarming Harry's stomach that he doesn't know if he can get any words out. 
"Well... how would you like to introduce me?"
She shrugs her shoulders and rolls her lips into her mouth. "I mean, I don't know... maybe, like..."
And then she mumbles something, but it's so low that he can't hear a thing.
"I didn't hear that."
She repeats it, and Harry lets out a laugh when he still doesn't understand her.
"Baby, speak up. I can't hear you."
"WhatifIsaidyouweremyboyfriend."
"What?"
"WhatifIsaidyouweremyBOYFRIEND."
"Y/N, seriously, I don't know—"
"Boyfriend!" she exclaims, "What if I said you were my boyfriend?"
He can't fight the grin that breaks out onto his face, especially given her wide, exasperated eyes. He doesn't think he'll ever tire of teasing her.
"Is this you asking me to be your boyfriend?" 
She groans and goes to rise from the couch, only to be quickly brought back down by Harry. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her towards him as his chest vibrates with laughter.
"Ask me properly."
She huffs, twisting in his lap. Swallowing nervously, she looks down, and he intertwines their fingers together. 
"Harry... would you want to be my boyfriend?" she peers up at him through her eyelashes and he smiles that big, dimpled smile that she loves, and realizes she has nothing to worry about.
"I would love nothing more than to be your boyfriend." 
He decides to save the I-love-you confession for another day, because he wants nothing more than to do things properly with her.
But when a matching toothy grin appears on her face, he mentally amends the one thing he got wrong about her: This is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
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chvoswxtch · 1 year
Note
i had an idea for matt but idk if it was good but reader who is matt’s neighbor and she always drops stuff off for him like a new first aid kit and food because she knows he’s daredevil and matt has no idea who does it till he catches her one day
like super fluffy
hi nonnie!
I actually LOVED this idea and thought it was super cute, so thank you so much for requesting it! 💘
warning: slight angst, cavity inducing fluff word count: 2.7k
[part two]
care packages
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The first time it happened, Matt hadn’t thought much of it. He simply thought he’d placed an order that he had forgotten about, tossed the package containing a first aid kit and other items into his bathroom, and called it a day. Ever since taking down Fisk, the caseload at Nelson and Murdock had nearly quadrupled, and all the remaining crime lords in Hell’s Kitchen were competing for the vacant throne. Needless to say, Matt hadn’t been sleeping more than usual, and if you asked him what day it was, he probably couldn’t even tell you.
But then it happened again. And again. And again. And again.
Every couple of weeks, a new package arrived at Matt’s door, and the contents varied with each box. Some of them contained first aid kits, bottles of ibuprofen, other over the counter medications, ice packs, epsom salts, and various other supplies. Other times there were carefully packaged homemade dishes and freshly baked treats. Foggy and Karen both swore it wasn’t them, and even inspected the packages on Matt’s behalf. There wasn’t ever a note left, or anything written on the boxes, so none of them could figure out where they were coming from. Foggy lit up like a child on Christmas morning every time Matt entered the office with a new batch of goodies, and Matt couldn’t deny how nice it was to have a break from all the takeout. Whoever was leaving the packages was an excellent cook, and an incredibly skilled baker, but not knowing who was leaving the packages or why was driving Matt absolutely insane. 
Between both of his hectic lives, he didn’t have much time to investigate where the packages were coming from. He had asked his neighbors on a whim if they had seen anything, but they didn’t have a clue either. On the rare occasion when Matt did have an off day, he camped out on his couch in anticipation, hoping the next care package would arrive while he was home. 
But it never did. 
Karen had suggested leaving his business card taped to his front door, making the argument that it had his name and phone number on it in case whoever it was felt brave enough to contact him. But Matt was hesitant, because he wasn’t sure if the person leaving the care packages was leaving them for him, or for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, and the latter made him nervous. He had no idea if they had made the connection, and he didn’t want to make it for them. 
For two months, Matt drove himself completely crazy trying to solve the mystery. 
By some miracle, or the grace of God, Matt was home at a normal time one Thursday evening. He was in the kitchen loosening his tie and reaching for a beer in the fridge when he smelled it. A familiar scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies that had been infused with cinnamon and nutmeg. The exact same chocolate chip cookies that had been left in front of his door four times in the past two months. The ones Foggy had dubbed, “crack cookies”. They were, in his defense, highly addictive.
Matt instantly froze, focusing solely on the sound of light footsteps approaching his door from the side of the hallway by the stairwell. The person’s heartbeat was steady, and they were humming softly to themselves as they bent down to place the package directly in front of Matt’s door. Matt abruptly slammed his fridge shut, racing towards his front door to fling it open like a madman, nearly tearing it off the hinges in the process and earning a shocked gasp from you as you were still knelt in front of his door.
He cocked his head to the side slightly, noting the sharp uptick in rhythm of your heart rate as you stared wide eyed up at him, fingers gripping tightly onto the sides of the container. For a moment, neither of you said anything, until the scent of cortisol creeping into your bloodstream snapped Matt back into focus.
“Are…are you the person that’s been leaving these?”
Letting out a shaky breath, you swallowed thickly as you gave a slight nod of your head.
“I…um…yeah.”
Your voice was timid and quiet as it came out, and there was something familiar about it. There was also something incredibly familiar about your scent, but Matt couldn’t quite place it. Your heart was thundering loudly in Matt’s ears, and he could hear the anxiety in every shuddering breath you took in. As his tongue darted out to quickly wet his lips, he slowly extended his hand out towards you.
“Do you…will you come in?”
Glancing between Matt’s outstretched hand and the dish in your own, you stared up at him silently for a moment. It suddenly occurred to him that his reaction might have made you more tense than the fact that you had been caught, and he pulled his lips into a gentle half smile.
“I’m not upset. I just…want to talk to you, if that’s alright?”
His words seem to put you at ease, and you carefully placed your hand into his own, allowing him to pull you up to your feet. Matt liked how soft your hand felt in his own, and he reluctantly let go to step back to grant you space, gesturing for you to come inside. After closing his door, he followed you cautiously into his living room, tuning all of his senses into you as you turned around to face him while still clutching the dish in your hands. There was something recognizable about you, but Matt for the life of him couldn’t place what it was.
“Um…I guess the obvious first question is…why you’re leaving all these care packages?”
Matt kept his voice even and gentle, not wanting you for a second to think that he was upset. As far as he could tell, you were leaving them with genuine intentions, and while that warmed his heart, he still wanted to know why. He caught the way you trapped your bottom lip between your teeth and tilted your head to stare down at the dish in your hands, taking in a deep, shaky breath before answering.
“Because you saved my life.”
Matt’s lips parted slightly in surprise, cocking his head to the side slightly as he took a step closer towards you and fixed his gaze in your direction with an expression of confusion. 
“I…I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve represented you-”
“You were wearing a different suit.”
Matt’s entire body instantly went rigid. You did know who he was. Panic started to rise in his chest, and his brain wasn’t working fast enough to come up with some kind of lie or excuse to protect his identity.
“I…I don’t…I t-think you must have me confused with someone else-”
“Those men didn’t just want to rob me. They wanted to hurt me. They followed me home from that bar and pulled me into that alley. If you…hadn’t shown up when you did, they probably would’ve killed me, or left me there after they did what they really wanted to. I…I’m honestly not sure which would’ve been worse.”
Matt stilled hearing the way your voice trembled, tasting the fear that built in the corners of your eyes as the memory sent a shiver cascading down your spine. Suddenly it all clicked into place. That’s why he remembered you. He recognized your voice because he remembered hearing your frenzied cries for help from the rooftop. He recalled the scent of you lingering beneath his nose while he held you comfortingly to his chest as you gripped onto his shoulders, begging him not to leave you alone in the dark. After taking care of the men that had attacked you, he’d waited with you until the cops came, doing his best to keep you calm and reassuring you that you were safe. 
Your name tumbled from his lips before he could stop himself.
“Y/N.”
He remembers asking for it that night. He remembers repeating it back to you soothingly, enjoying the way it tasted on his tongue while wiping your tears away with his gloved fingers. He remembers the sweet melody of your voice as you thanked him endlessly, and the way you struggled to let go of his hand once the police arrived and he had to disappear into the darkness.
He noted the way your lips tugged into the faintest of smiles as you nodded.
“You remembered.”
Matt had wanted to find you, as himself, to offer you legal representation if you wanted to build a case. But with things being so hectic lately, he never got the chance. Another wave of confusion settled over his features when he took another step forward towards you. 
“Wait, but how did you-”
“I live in this building. I saw you on the roof about a week later.”
Matt’s lips parted slightly at your words, giving a slight nod of his head to encourage you to continue. 
“I was up there kinda late one night. There was a lunar eclipse that was supposed to be visible at a certain time, and I wanted to see it. I saw you. You disappeared through that door on the roof, and I thought it just went to a stairwell, but none of the stairwells I found led to that same door. I kinda put it together that it only led to your apartment…and it wasn’t that hard to figure out which one was yours from there.”
“So…you didn’t…know that I was-”
“No. I didn’t know who you were, not really. I never saw you again after that. I just…you looked like you were hurt that night. I wanted to do something…something to help you. I felt like I owed you.”
Matt pursed his lips as he shook his head quickly, letting a dry chuckle escape his mouth.
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“I owe you my life.”
Matt paused at the sincerity in your voice, noticing that it came out a lot firmer as you spoke those words. His fingers twitched slightly at his sides as you let out a soft sigh, turning around to place the dish of cookies on his coffee table.
“Look, I’m sorry if I…I freaked you out or anything. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to do something nice for you since you saved me. I figured you probably go through a lot of first aid kits and don’t have much time to cook with your busy night job.”
Matt chuckled softly as a light smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, placing his hands on his hips as he followed your movements.
“That’s an understatement. Can I…can I ask…why you didn’t say anything? I mean, you never knock or leave a note or anything.”
Nibbling at your bottom lip, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and shrugged lightly as you fiddled with a ring around your finger.
“I told you, I didn’t wanna freak you out. I’m sure you wear the mask for a reason. I…wanted to respect your privacy. Look, you don’t owe me anything, certainly not an explanation. You don’t have to tell me anything at all, and I would never tell anyone about this, I swear.”
The steady, strong rhythm of your heartbeat had Matt’s chest swelling with gratitude. He knew you were telling the truth. 
“I believe you.”
There was a faint smile pulling at your lips as you stared at him, and Matt desperately wanted to know what you saw, and what you were thinking. He didn’t think it was a coincidence someone like you had fallen into his lap. He didn’t believe in coincidences. But he did believe in divine intervention. What were the odds of him saving your life, being your neighbor, and the recipient of your unwavering kindness and genuine understanding? 
“I…I’m not a doctor, or a medical professional by any means, but I do know my way around a first aid kit. I’m also a horrible insomniac, so I’m usually awake at ungodly hours throughout the night. If you ever…need…or want any help, I just live a floor down. I’m in 5C.”
“I…thank you. And thank you for all of the care packages.”
“Thank you for saving my life.”
Matt felt his cheeks heat up at the candor in your voice. He didn’t get thanked often for what he did every night, not that the praise was his main motivator, but they were still two words he didn’t hear all that much. The people he took down certainly weren’t thanking him for sending them to prison, and sometimes the people he saved were in too much shock to speak, or he had to take off before he got caught by the cops. But something about the way the gentle inflection of your voice dripped into his ears like honey had warmth spreading throughout his entire body. He took another careful step towards you, extending his hand once again for you to take as his lips parted into a tender smile.
“Matthew. My name is Matthew.”
His heart started to beat a little faster feeling the way your mouth pulled into a smile of your own, reveling in the feeling of your soft hand slipping into his once again, fingers delicately curling around the bottom of his palm.
“It’s nice to meet you, Matthew. Officially.”
Matt keened at the way his name sounded falling from your lips, and he gave your hand a faint squeeze.
“It’s nice to meet you officially as well, Y/N.”
He didn’t miss the way your heart jumped slightly when he repeated your name, or the fact that neither one of you seemed to want to let go of the other’s hand.
“You know, my partner is going to be beyond excited that I’ve finally found the person responsible for those amazing cookies.”
Matt’s chest expanded with pride feeling the rise in temperature across your cheeks, lips parting slightly as your soft giggle hit his ears.
“Nice of you to share, Matthew.”
A wider smile tugged across his lips hearing you say his name again. He lightly stroked his thumb across your knuckle as he shrugged.
“I thought at first one of them was doing it, but neither of them are as good of a cook or a baker. You’re a hit in our office, by the way.”
“I am?”
“They ask me everyday if I’ve gotten a new care package. Obviously the edible ones are their favorite.”
Another soft giggle slipped past your stretched lips, and Matt found himself inching closer to the sound as heat spread down your neck and across your chest.
“They…they know, too?”
“They do.”
“Well, then they’re just as deserving.”
Matt found himself completely in awe of you, wondering how he had managed to find an angel when he walked the path of the Devil. 
“Can I…can I take you to dinner? To say thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me-”
“I want to. You’ve provided me with a ton of dinners lately. I’d like to treat you to one.”
Matt angled his head to the side slightly as he listened to your heart’s tempo increase, enjoying the way you delicately tightened your hold on his hand as you took in a shaky breath.
“Well, how can I refuse my savior?”
“You can’t. It’s against the law actually.”
A large grin spread across your mouth at Matt’s playful tone, peering up at him with curiosity.
“Are you a lawyer, Matthew?”
“I am.”
An incredulous giggle escaped your mouth as your brows knit together in the center of your forehead.
“So, wait…lawyer by day, vigilante by night? How does that work, exactly?”
“I’ll let you know when I figure that out.”
Matt chuckled softly as you giggled, resisting the urge to reach his hand up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear like he had done the first night he met you. 
“So, Friday night?”
“You know where to find me.”
“I do, now.”
tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042
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kamaluhkhan · 8 months
Text
all the love we had and lost
pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader
summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.
warnings: lots of plot + flashbacks. angst with fluff in betweem. slightly suggestive dialogue/situations but nothing more than the actual show, a guy being pushy about hooking up with reader but nothing happens, mention of injuries and blood throughout, hints of alcoholism, brief mention of dieting (reader is competitive swimmer and deals with certain pressures from that), reader gets her period, takes on too much responsibility and argues with her mother (aka eldest daughter syndrome)
tags: @stargirlsirius-recs, @ifilwtmfc, @qwertyb2577, @allnrsnz, @baconeggndcheez, @peanutbelley, @imogen-skye, @geekinthefuschiahair, @tvije,
a/n: thank you thank you thank you for so much love on my first conrad fic!! i'm so excited to share the rest of the series, so stay tuned :))
read part one here
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the best friends of our childhoods are the loves of our lives, and they break our hearts in the worse ways. (fredrik backman)
now — summer, age 18
you throw in some extra sprinkles, along with a few more tablespoons of sugar. belly has a huge sweet tooth. it's the night before her birthday, and you're in the kitchen at the fisher's house baking her coconut confetti cupcakes. 
born on june 21st — the summer solstice — belly conklin is the definition of a summer child. she's summer, personified: sunshine, sweet tea, sand, and smiles. having missed so many birthday celebrations, you’re determined to make this year special.
you go to the fridge to grab some eggs, and when you close the door, you're startled by the person standing behind it.
"what are you doing here?" you ask, holding a hand to your chest and setting the carton of eggs on the counter. the joy you felt making birthday cupcakes for belly fades away, replaced with a tingling in your chest. you and conrad hadn’t spoken more than three sentences to each other, or even been in the same room alone, since that morning on the beach. as the distance between the two of you grew, so did your frustration at him. 
conrad raises his eyebrow at you. he reaches around you into the fridge and pulls out a beer. 
"i should be asking you that." 
"the oven at my house is broken and your mom said i could come over."
“i’ve heard that one before,” he mumbles as he leaves the kitchen. you almost can’t believe he brought it up, even if just in a passing, somewhat snarky remark. conrad probably thought you didn’t hear.
these past few weeks, conrad hasn't just been cold towards you — which was a relief as much as it was heart wrenching. he seems more closed off in general, more inclined to spend time with others who hadn't seen him grow up. in fact, you imagine he’s on his way to see nicole now. maybe with her, he can pretend everything is fine. but not with the people in this house, who knew him inside and out.
you would never admit it — if conrad wants to ignore you, you could ignore him just fine — but it was eating you up inside, and it took everything in you not to confront him, to comfort him about whatever he was going through. you’d have arguments when you were kids, but it was nothing a ring pop or tub of cherry jello couldn’t solve. this time is different; the wound is deeper, harder to heal.
you wanted the old conrad back: the sweet boy who cared for you and let you care for him in return. 
then — summer, age 14
belly was turning 12, and you wanted to surprise her with homemade cupcakes for breakfast. only, the oven at your house was broken, which meant your intention of baking her birthday treats would have fallen through, if not for susannah’s ever-present generosity. 
everyone else was out of the house — you even asked laurel and susannah to take belly shopping to not ruin the surprise. you were decorating the cupcakes when conrad walked in from the deck. his wet hair stuck to his forehead and he was wearing a rash guard, so he probably got back from surfing. he looked paler than usual, even after being in the sun for hours, but you didn’t think much of it at first.
“hey,” he greeted, sounding slightly out of breath. “what are you doing here?” 
“the oven at my house is broken, so your mom said i can come over to bake these for belly’s birthday tomorrow.” you gestured at the clumsily decorated treats. the cupcakes had bright pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles. you weren’t a professional by any means, but knew that belly would love them.
“but i’m sure she wouldn’t miss one or two, if you wanna try one,” you offered, smiling at conrad.
he smiled back, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “yeah. yeah, let’s do that. i’m just gonna get changed first.”
conrad walked past you, and that’s when you noticed him limping — along with a bloody gash just below his left knee.
you instantly dropped the spatula back into the half-empty frosting bowl.
“connie, what the hell happened?”
“i’m fine,” he answered. “i wiped out, got cut by the fin of my board.” conrad must have noticed your eyes widened with worry because he grabbed your wrist gently, thumb rubbing soothingly on your pulse point. he was bleeding out on the kitchen floor, and there he was, trying to make sure you were okay. 
“i’m fine,” he reassured. 
the blood dripping down his leg suggested otherwise. years ago conrad would faint at the sight of blood, and though he’d mostly outgrown that, you knew it still made him queasy. you imagined the pain definitely wasn’t making it easier. without another word, you pulled him into the bathroom and made him sit on the edge of the bathtub. you washed your hands then sat cross-legged in front of him.
“you here to fix me up, sweetheart?” he smirked as he watched you gather supplies from the cabinet underneath the sink, your brows furrowed in concentration.
“what?” you paused, almost laughing. until you saw his wound again, and you got back to work.
“it’s from the hunger games,” he explained. “when katniss finds peeta in the arena? and he’s all, like, injured.”
“well, he was definitely in worse shape than you,” you assured. “your cut’s not that deep, it just looks bad.”
“it doesn’t feel great, either.”
conrad exhaled sharply when you started applying pressure to his leg with a damp washcloth. you placed your other hand on his right knee.
“it’ll be fine, connie. i’ve got you. keep your eyes on me, okay?”
he looked down at you, wet hair framing his face as he offered a short nod. 
you gestured at him to take over, and your fingers brushed together when he grabbed the washcloth, but he never looked down. his eyes still followed you as you searched the bathroom for something to cover his wound.
a comfortable silence followed. the two of you used to spend hours talking, sure, but what you loved about spending time with conrad is that silence didn't bother him. you could each be in your own worlds while in the comfort of each other's company, and that was enough.
once the wound was cleaned and the bleeding slowed down, you placed a gauze pad over his cut before wrapping a cloth bandage around it.
“i’m pretty sure it’s ‘you here to finish me off, sweetheart?’,” you remembered.
conrad shook his head. “i’m pretty sure it’s not. i’ve read the book like, three times.”
you move to sit next to him on the edge of the tub.
“how sure are you, connie? because i’m pretty damn sure.”
conrad shrugged. “i’m pretty damn sure, too.” 
you rolled your eyes, but with a smile. “okay, fine. we’ll check. but, when you see how wrong you are, you have to come with me to see jaws 2.” it was playing at the local movie theatre during their weekly throwback thursday — you and belly had seen it advertised on your way home from getting ice cream. you had wanted to ask conrad, but couldn’t find the right time.
because you hadn’t meant it to be a date, but you also hadn’t not meant it to be. something changed about how you felt towards conrad that summer; or, maybe, you just figured out what was different about the love you felt towards him compared to everyone else. 
(yes, love. again, something you would never admit.)
you thought maybe — maybe he felt it too. there was something different in the way he teased you, laughed with you, looked at you when he thought you couldn’t notice.
you did notice. it happened so much that eventually you decided that either it was all in your head and he didn’t love you that way, or he was also scared of what would happen if he did. which, to be fair, was the position you were in. you were very scared of what would happen if you crossed that line.
“i’ll agree to that,” conrad said. “if you agree to having a picnic with me on the beach. if i have to face my fear of sharks, then you have to face your fear of angry seagulls stealing your food.”
a picnic on the beach. you wondered if this was conrad’s way of subtly asking you on a date. did he also want to cross that line, become something other than friends? he looked at you so eagerly, you hoped he did.
“fine.” you held out your hand. “but you have to protect me from angry seagulls.”
conrad smiled at you brightly as he grasped your hand. 
“always.” 
in the end, conrad lost the bet. the screening of jaws 2 was cancelled, so you rented it from the video store instead. you got his favourite movie snacks, and some of yours as well, and made sure the couch had the comfiest pillows and the warmest blanket. you felt butterflies just thinking about the two of you watching together, cuddling on the couch. 
when the time came though, your plans fell through. the playdates your siblings had lined up both cancelled. your mother had plans to meet a friend at the bar, and claimed she couldn't reschedule. by then your parents were divorced and your father was elsewhere with his new girlfriend, so it fell to you to babysit your siblings.
conrad came over anyway: he helped you make rice and lentils for dinner, convinced your brother to eat his vegetables, and let your sister paint his nails. the four of you watched night at the museum and ate all the junk food you had gotten, with you and conrad sitting on opposite ends of the couch, but stealing glances and shy smiles at each other. when your mother came home, a bit after midnight and a little tipsy, she got angry that you’d kept the twins up so late and cheated on the diet she had so carefully planned for you — to keep you in shape for swimming, she claimed. you rolled your eyes, and that made her angrier. without you saying anything, conrad took the twins upstairs to get ready for bed as you and your mother argued. by the time conrad walked back downstairs, your mother had gone into the living room for another drink and you were in tears. he asked if you were okay, and you told him to go home.
you never talked about that night again, and everything went back to the way it was: with neither of you crossing that line.
now
the only reason you let belly drag you to nicole’s party is because it’s her birthday. 
as soon as you enter the house, nicole and the other debutantes whisk belly away to a table filled with elaborate cakes. you can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed by how elegant they look in comparison to the cupcakes you made her. 
"come on," taylor groans. "let's get a drink."
taylor grabs two beers and hands one to you. you gratefully accept. the two of you catch up for a bit, when suddenly jeremiah starts serenading belly in an outrageously funny musical number. you laugh along with them, until you catch a glimpse of conrad with nicole on the couch at the other end of the room. nicole is sitting in conrad's lap, and she leans over to whisper something in his ear before kissing his cheek. your entire body heats up.
conrad was right before: you were jealous. as frustrated as you were with him, you were even angrier at yourself for feeling that way. 
"i’m gonna go find the bathroom!” taylor says, practically shouting over the music. 
"okay!” you yell back. “i’m gonna go get another drink." 
you know all too well that it isn’t a good habit to get into, but you need something stronger if you’re going to survive this party. you examine the drink table, finally picking out some mediocre tequila. you take a shot, then another.
“tequila. my kind of girl.” someone declares, creeping up behind you. 
it’s a terrible pick up line, and you already have a feeling that the guy trying to flirt with you is some rich entitled asshole. 
but, the guy — liam — can hold a decent conversation, and he’s cute enough.
he’s no conrad, though. you take another shot when that thought crosses your mind, and force yourself to flirt with leo. liam. right, liam.
liam leans in close, pretends to listen to you, lets his gaze linger on the deep v-neck of your shirt. you’re so close, you can smell the alcohol on his breath. 
“five minutes,” you boast after he asks how long you can hold your breath underwater. somehow, the conversation veered towards your time as a competitive swimmer. you’re just the right amount of tipsy that your inhibitions start fading away.
“wow,” liam says. “i have to say, i’m glad you didn’t have that training camp this summer.”
you bat your eyelashes at him. “oh? why is that?” you lean closer, trailing a finger down his chest.
“because then i wouldn’t be able to do this.” 
liam kisses you then, and you kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, runs his hands over your body. you feel nothing. it’s fine.
“let's go upstairs.”
liam’s grabbing your wrist before you have a chance to answer. as he tries to tug you up the stairs, your eyes meet conrad’s from across the room.
suddenly, you feel nauseous. you rip away from liam’s grip and place a hand on the wall next to you to steady yourself.
liam turns around sharply. “what is it?”
“i changed my mind, actually. let’s just hang out downstairs.”
liam grabs your wrist again, his grip tighter than before. “don’t be a tease.” 
this time, your voice comes out louder. “i just changed my mind. that doesn’t make me a tease.”
“don’t be a bitch, then,” he scoffs, and you’re this close to breaking this guy’s nose. “do you wanna fuck, or not?”
“i don’t,” you answer instantly, struggling to break free from his grip. 
“okay, whatever. we don’t have to go all the way, but we can still go upstairs, and have a good time.”
he manages to drag you up two steps as you strain against his iron grip, now almost cutting off your circulation. your heartbeat quickens and you feel dizzy. finally, you grab onto the railing for leverage, forcing liam to stop in his tracks.
“what is it now?” he groans.
“just stop, liam.”
“listen,” he starts, speaking to you almost mockingly, like you’re a naive little girl. “i know what girls want, so you don’t have to be shy. we’re going upstairs right now and —”
“liam, is it?” the rest of the party is in full motion, but here’s belly, giving liam one of the most intense death stares you’ve ever seen. belly, who if you cut open, would bleed sugar. “i’m gonna have to ask you to let go of my friend.”
“whatever,” liam answers, rolling his eyes. “if you don’t mind, we’re kinda in the middle of something.” he tries to move you forward, but you stand your ground.
jeremiah is also glaring at liam from the bottom of the stairs, his golden retriever personality long gone. “back off, man,” he warns.
“just mind your own business,” liam snaps.
“they said leave her alone,” steven asserts, walking over once he sees what’s happening. “and you don’t wanna mess with us, trust me.” he clenches his hand into a fist as if proving a point.
in other situations, you and belly have definitely teased steven for his tendency to act all tough, but right now, you couldn’t be more grateful.
“who the fuck are you? her bodyguards?” 
“just let her go,” belly orders. 
“i think she can speak for herself. she wants this, but if you’re jealous, you can join, too.” 
your stomach churns. liam leans in close to whisper in your ear. “maybe we’ll see if those 5 minutes come in handy when you’re sucking my —”
as soon as liam lets go of your wrist, his hand trailing downward, you shove him away and punch him in the nose before he can finish his sentence. you deliver a final blow to liam’s ego as he’s doubled over:
“what i want is for you to leave us the fuck alone. there are other people in this house who i’d rather hook up with. people who aren’t complete assholes with fancy cars to compensate for their tiny dick.”
the flirtatious smile falls from liam’s face, replaced with the kind of anger only rich entitled assholes have when they don’t get what they want — figures that he only gets the hint when it literally hits him right in the nose. he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face. 
you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you fall down the stairs, but belly manages to catch you before you hit the ground. she holds you as jeremiah and steven step in front. you hear them shouting at liam over the music, but their exact words don’t register.
you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and the room is suddenly all fuzzy.
“i’ve got her.” conrad’s calm and measured voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist. “go find cam — the rest of us have been drinking, but he can drive her home.”
somehow, you find yourself in a bathroom, sitting on the counter as conrad stands between your legs. he carefully examines your injury, but you notice how he avoids making eye contact. 
you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the alcohol, or the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while — probably a dangerous mix of all three. 
“you here to fix me up, sweetheart?” the question slips past your lips before you could stop it.
conrad looks slightly amused, and he finally meets your gaze. “that’s not the line,” he deadpans. you know (from trying not to but ultimately not being able to pull your attention away from him all night) that he’s had a few drinks as well; it seems like the two of you ignore each other best when you’re sober.
but, still, he remembers. his comment earlier and his smile right now is all the confirmation you need: somewhere in the back of his mind, he replays memories of you. no matter how cold he acts towards you, he still cares.
he continues wiping the blood off your face. “how’s your hand?” he asks.
you flex your fingers, inspect your hand. “it’s been better,” you answer, though your knuckles are slightly aching. “worth it.”
“i guess all those years away made you a badass.”
all those years away. the reminder feels like a stab to the heart, but you wouldn’t let it burst the comfortable bubble you and conrad had somehow stumbled into. 
instead, you offer him a lopsided smile.
“oh, connie,” the nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. “i was always a badass.”
“yeah, yeah. but it’s different now. you’re different.” he pauses. you’re worried he’s going to say something else. 
but he doesn’t. instead, he asks, jokingly: “did you join a fight club or something?” 
you take that as a good sign: like you, he’s trying to preserve the playfulness between you before everything else seeps in and ruins it, before you’re brought back to the present, where you’re both heartbroken and not talking to each other. 
“you know the first rule of fight club —”
“don’t talk about fight club,” you finish together. 
conrad laughs, even though it’s not that funny. you laugh, too. 
a silence falls over you, one that’s not unfamiliar, but not entirely comfortable either. conrad holds the cloth against your nose to make sure the bleeding stopped. 
it seemed to be a strange pattern between you two — being there for each other when you bleed.
then — summer, age 12
it was the end of july when you got your first period. 
you had made lunch for your siblings and walked them to their day camp, when you suddenly felt an ache in your abdomen. that ache turned into a sharp pain by the time you got home, and you ran to the bathroom to confirm what you’d suspected. 
that afternoon, mr. conklin was taking all the kids to mini golf, but you weren’t feeling up for it. you texted belly about what happened and spent the rest of the day curled up in bed.
you didn’t hear him knock over the sound of the movie you were watching, but suddenly you saw conrad standing by your door, holding a bag from the candy shop. 
“jesus, connie, you scared me!” you exclaimed, pausing the movie. 
he smiled sheepishly and flopped down on the bed next to you. “belly told me you weren’t feeling well. here.” he handed you the bag. 
you opened the bag, grateful that conrad picked out your favourite treats. you take one and bite into it. your stomach growled — you hadn’t eaten earlier because you felt nauseous, but now you could eat that entire bag in one go.
“how was mini golf?” you asked, popping another treat into your mouth.
“it was awesome! i finally managed to get past that giant hippo and get a hole-in-one. i got the highest score.”
you frown, wishing you had been there. if anything, to beat conrad’s score. 
“don’t worry, we’ll go back another time,” conrad added. “you can beat me then.” sometimes, you swore conrad could read your mind. he then asked if you were feeling better.
“no. i got my period,” you huffed. “it sucks.”
“oh.” conrad adjusted his glasses, a sign that he felt awkward. “i’ve heard about those. they sound pretty brutal.”
“health class?”
“no. my mom, actually.”
health class wasn’t much help for you either, and neither was your mother. you were lucky enough to have susannah and laurel, who had explained everything to you and belly. 
“anyway, what are you watching?”
“the hunger games,” you answer. “i just finished the book.”
“cool.” 
conrad didn’t move — he actually leaned back against the pillows even more — so you figured he wanted to stay. you moved the laptop so it sat between the two of you and started playing the movie again.
“you know, it doesn’t seem fair that you miss out on having fun just because of your period,” conrad said as katniss finds peeta injured in the arena.
you frown, about to point out that he has no idea how painful cramps can be.
he lifted his hand up to stop you. “not that i can judge what you’re going through. i’m just saying when it’s this bad, instead of being alone, just text me, and i’ll be there.”
when the time came, he watched movies with you in bed. he brought you junk food and pain killers. he even biked to the store when you’d run out of pads.
he was there for you, just like he promised.
now
those moments from past summers now feel warm and sickly sweet, like popsicles melting in the sun — then again, that might just be the remnants of tequila flowing through your veins. you think about what happened earlier, how belly, jeremiah, and steven stepped in to protect you. how conrad is here with you now, taking care of you so tenderly even after you’ve ignored each for so long. it’s like nothing changed. but once you leave this bathroom and the alcohol leaves your system, it wouldn’t be the same. you feared you'd never get that magic back, and that weighed on your chest so much, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.
“why’d you go for liam, anyway?” conrad asks, breaking you away from your thoughts. he removes the cloth from your nose so you can answer, and the bleeding seems to have finally stopped.
“you really wanna know?”
“yeah. liam’s an asshole. and you’re…” conrad places his hands on either side of your thighs, leaning close. “you.”
“i went for liam because….well, honestly, i didn’t care who it was, as long as they made me forget you,” you admit, because what did you have to lose. you probably have a broken nose, you definitely have blood on your shirt, and your time with conrad is running out. 
conrad’s eyes darken. his fingers start to play with the hem of your shorts. 
“did it work?” his voice is a whisper, but he’s so close that it’s crystal clear.
“no.”
it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on conrad’s. it's not the most elegant kiss — it's messy, urgent, with your noses bumping together, and teeth clacking against each other. he cradles your face in his hands, and you wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer. you taste beer on his tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. you tangle your hands into his hair, and you swallow his moan as you gently tug. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the alcohol or adrenaline, but dizzy from him.
when you run out of air, feeling like your lungs could burst, you pull away. conrad’s gaze is heavy on yours as he traces your top lip with his thumb.
“connie,” you whimper, itching to kiss him again. 
“you’re still bleeding.”
conrad wipes away your blood with the cuff of his flannel. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. jeremiah, letting you know that it’s time to go. 
and, just like that, the moment is gone. 
a few days later, belly invites you over for a girl’s night. you paint each other’s nails, eat sour candy, and watch rom coms, just like you used to. she updates you on debutante season, the argument she had with taylor, and her blossoming feelings for jeremiah. you let it slip that you and conrad kissed at nicole’s party, though you admit you aren’t sure what it means — as if you hadn’t spent hours and hours thinking about the kiss, about him. belly gives you a knowing smile, but you change the subject before she can comment any further.
you’re halfway through 10 things i hate about you when belly falls asleep. you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to conrad, when you get a text from him.
he’s already on the dock when you arrive, looking out onto the water. 
“hey,” you greet as you stand next to him. “i was actually about to text you —”
“did you tell belly that we kissed?” he interrupts. you can’t quite read his expression as he waits for you to answer.
“no, i didn’t,” you lie. “but…would it matter if i did?”
“well, i mean, belly’s close to nicole and i don’t want her finding out," conrad explains. his words are deliberate, and you suspect he'd spent some time perfecting what to say to you. so far, you didn't like where this was going. conrad delivers another blow:
"it’s not like it meant anything.”
you feel like you could shatter into a million pieces right then and there.
“it didn’t?” you hate how fragile your voice sounds, compared to conrad’s stoic demeanor.
conrad shrugs. “i mean, we were both drunk and the thing with liam happened, so we just got caught up in the heat of the moment.” 
“you’re saying there’s nothing between us, then? nothing other than friendship?”
he turned away before he answered. “no. nothing.”
“then what about last summer?” you demand. you force yourself to keep it together, your tone firmer than before. “i guess that didn’t mean anything, either.”
“y/n…” he pauses, and you know you caught him off guard. “i don’t know what you want me to say. we’re barely even friends anymore. you come back here, after all this time, after so much shit has happened, and expect us all to drop everything to fit you back into our lives. but, you don't. we moved on. i moved on, and i can’t deal with you —" 
“got it,” you snap, already turning to walk away. “loud and fucking clear, conrad.” 
it’s not like it meant anything. we’re barely even friends anymore.
you replay conrad’s words as you crawl into bed next to belly, holding back tears as to not disturb her sleep.
you decide then that you didn’t love conrad anymore. you couldn’t because it would eat you up inside. 
then again, it doesn't seem like hating him would be any easier.
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roosterforme · 7 months
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The Younger Kind Part 28 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley is leaving soon, and everything is changing for you. As your graduation approaches, he takes some matters into his own hands. He wants to share everything with you, and sometimes it's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. 
Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, smut, and age gap (18+)
Length: 4700 words
Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader
Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.
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Sunday night ended up being family night, and Bradley was hoping it could become a regular occurrence. The three of you went to see a movie, and Noah sat in the middle. Or at least he started out there. About halfway through, Bradley scooped Noah up onto his lap and slid over one seat, wanting to be closer to you. 
So when the movie wrapped up and you had your fingers laced with his and your head resting on his shoulder, Bradley made it a point to say this should happen all the time. 
You kissed Noah's cheek and then his before you stood. "But you'll be deployed soon, Daddy."
He eyed you up and down as he stood with Noah's arms wrapped around his neck. "Trust me. I know how much I'll be missing out on when I'm gone. The two of you will be eating homemade food and taking nature hikes."
"And coloring," Noah supplied. 
"Can't forget about that," Bradley said, reaching for your hand. "Now let's get you home. One of you has daycare in the morning, and one of you has finals."
"I still wish you could come with me," you whispered, letting your cheek rest on his bicep on the way to the parking lot. "I'm sure I'd do much better if I got to sit on your lap and eat Skittles the whole time."
After Bradley buckled Noah into his carseat, he wrapped his hands around your hips and pulled your body to his. "No reason we can't keep having sexy Skittles time at home," he rasped. "There's something magical about you and me and the living room couch."
You whimpered as your hands came to rest on his chest. When you pressed your glossy lips together, Bradley wanted to take you right up against the Bronco again. But he knew everyone needed to call it an early night, which probably meant no sex. 
So he opened your door for you and helped you inside and then drove home. When you and he were in bed for the night, he kept his hands in innocent enough places as you studied a few more things on your phone. He quizzed you on a few topics, and when you started yawning, he insisted it was time to go to sleep.
"You'll do great, Princess," he whispered, gathering you up in front of his big body and spooning you. "I love you."
"Love you, Daddy," you sighed softly as you fell asleep. Truth be told, he was less worried about your day than he was his, because he knew you'd do great. Meanwhile Bradley was going to have to run across town during lunch to meet with Tracy. He already had a case of Red Bull in the back of the Bronco that you insisted he should take to her. And he had to follow through with everything related to Meredith, which were some loose ends he was anxious to get tied up. 
He usually slept great with your body tucked against his and his hand resting on your belly, but not tonight. Noah was old enough now that the deployments were going to get harder. And Bradley didn't know what he was going to do if you wouldn't move in with him. Or if you found a job outside of San Diego and moved away. You told him you applied to a world-renowned hospital in Arizona. What exactly was he supposed to do with that information? Demand that you stay here in California and continue to love the two of them forever?
His lips came to rest on your neck, and you whimpered in your sleep. This was the first time Bradley had ever felt this way. He supposed he'd loved Meredith. He'd been in love with another of his exes, too. But this was insane. And you were so young, Bradley could feel you holding back when he talked too much about the future. So he knew he was going to have to keep things exactly where they were for a few more months, at least until he got home. 
He must have dozed off eventually, because he woke to you kissing his forehead and whispering, "I'm heading to campus. Good luck with Tracy."
"Wait," he grunted, sitting up and reaching for you. He tugged on your hand until you were sprawled across him in bed giggling softly. Bradley cupped your neck with one hand and stroked your cheek with his thumb. "You'll do great today, Baby. You're incredible."
With a kiss to the tip of his nose, you were running out of his bedroom, and Bradley decided to just get up for the day as well. And when he went into the kitchen, he found a full breakfast spread for him and Noah on the table. Fruit, bagels, jelly and muffins. And a little note for him to read to Noah saying you had to leave too early to say good morning, but that you'd be back in time for dinner. 
"Fuck," Bradley groaned, holding the note in one hand and cradling his face in the other. He needed you here. They both did. It was startling that he could hardly remember what it was like before he met you. 
"Daddy?" Noah called from the hallway, and then Bradley got started on the morning routine. 
-----------------------------
When Tracy's receptionist opened her office door for him, Bradley strolled in wearing his flight suit and carrying the case of cans of Red Bulls. Tracy looked up from her small conference table and started laughing. 
"You're a client," she informed him. "I shouldn't accept gifts from clients."
He shook his head. "Not from me. From my girlfriend."
"Ah," she said, reaching out to take it from him. "Then I accept. Have a seat."
Then Bradley was presented with a huge folder of things to read and sign. Tracy went through all of it with him and answered what seemed like a hundred questions, and after an hour, he'd worked his way to the end. "So what does that all mean exactly?"
She ran a purple highlighter over his name on the last sheet and said, "Means you are Noah's sole legal guardian. The only one who has rights to anything related to custody. As soon as you pay me and I file the paperwork, that is."
Bradley was reaching for his checkbook right away, but Tracy held up a hand. "Not yet. You asked me to look into appointing a temporary guardian for Noah? And what it would take to get a protective order?"
"Three protective orders," Bradley clarified. "All against Meredith."
Tracy sighed and leaned back in her seat. "You want to appoint your girlfriend as a temporary guardian? While you're deployed?"
"Yes."
"No problem. We can fill that paperwork out right now."
Bradley's heart soared in his chest. But only until Tracy said, "However... getting protective orders against Meredith for all three of you is going to be a little bit tricky."
"How?" Bradley demanded. "She attacked my family when they were at a playground! I can't be around to watch them all the time."
She shook her head. "I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about you. If you know you're leaving for deployment, you'll have to disclose that information to the clerk. And if you try to lie about it, then I won't be able to represent you any further."
"What does my deployment have to do with the fact that I know my girlfriend still thinks about slamming into the parking lot at Myers Park? I was picking asphalt out of her arm."
She shrugged like she knew he was right. "Exactly. But the only times you saw Meredith were when you invited her into your house and when she accidentally ran into you at the coffee shop."
"I doubt that was an accident," Bradley ground out through gritted teeth.
"Be that as it may," Tracy said, walking across the room for two water bottles, "when you combine that with the fact that you'll be out of the country, you may be denied."
Bradley sat quietly for a moment and sipped the water bottle he was given. "Well, can I file for the three of us anyway?"
"Sure. The filing fees will total around $1,300. And you can sign for Noah. She will have to sign and submit hers on her own behalf."
"Give me the papers," he said, and she stood to print them out. "And if you have the time, I'd like to ask you what exactly would be involved if I ever get married and decide I want someone to adopt Noah."
--------------------------
Bradley and Noah were already home when you got there, and you went running inside with your tote bag smacking your hip. "Bradley?" you shouted, sprinting into the kitchen and right into his arms. "I aced my anatomy exam," you whispered against his lips as you threw your arms around his neck.
He slipped his hands around your waist and held you as he kissed you. "I knew it," he said with a smile as you kissed him a little harder. Your fingers were in his hair and you were tasting his mouth with your body pressed again his hard chest and abs. And then you heard Noah scoot his chair across the floor, and he came over to investigate. 
With a soft grunt, Bradley let go of you. Then you knelt down and kissed the top of Noah's head. But when you looked back up at Bradley, his eyes were needy as he planted his hands on his hips. 
"I didn't even get to the best news yet," you told him as Noah hugged you. "I have two job interviews tomorrow. One in the morning and one in the afternoon."
Bradley pulled you to your feet, and Noah was sandwiched between you. "Where are the jobs?" he asked, his voice a little rough.
You licked your lips and smiled at him, but he looked apprehensive. "One is in a hospital and the other is private practice. I'm excited about both of them."
"Are they here?" he asked, his left hand gripping your waist a little tight. "In San Diego?"
"Yes," you replied. You turned down interviews with a few out of state jobs already. It was a no brainer at this point; you wouldn't be this happy anywhere else. "I want to stay in San Diego." 
After that, Bradley didn't leave your side for the rest of the night. He helped you make dinner, he helped you get Noah ready for bed, and then he helped you get organized for both of your interviews. And he kept kissing you as often as he could. "You're clingy tonight, Daddy," you said as he pulled you onto his lap on the couch. "Not that I mind, really."
His hands were up inside your shirt, his big palms flat on your waist. "You scared me with that Arizona bullshit the other day."
You snorted and kissed his cheek. "I applied for that one after I thought you and Helen were hooking up."
"Shhh." He shushed you and then kissed your lips. "Don't say that. You belong right here."
You licked his lips and wiggled yourself against him. "Right here? With your dick poking at me?"
He was trying not to laugh. You could tell. You always got a good laugh out of him, and this time he chuckled before he ground himself up against you. "Yes, Princess. Right here on my dick."
He let you tilt his head back against the couch so you could take control of kissing him. It was sloppy and hot, and he had your shirt and bra off in no time. He used his big hands to slow down the rolling of your hips as he dipped his lips down to tease your breasts. He wasn't rushing anything, just gently sucking and releasing you with soft moans and grunts. But you were going to lose it. Your fingers were tugging on his hair, and you thought you might cum with your jeans on. 
"You're so sensitive," he whispered, nibbling on the underside of your left breast. His tongue flicked over your nipple and you whined his name. "Gorgeous tits."
When you slipped down to the floor between his legs, intending to suck his dick here like that very first night, you only got your lips around his cock for a few seconds before he wrapped his hand around the front of your neck and stopped you. "What are you doing? I want your daddy dick."
"Fuck," Bradley growled. "You're gonna get it." He eased you back onto the floor and stripped your jeans off you and pulled his own pants down to his knees. "I said you belong on my dick. You didn't disagree." 
He kissed the valley between your breasts before rolling to your side. He looked cocky, laying next to the snag in the area rug with his arms folded behind his head. But he had every right to lay there with a smug expression, because his cock was huge, and he knew how to use it. 
"I don't disagree," you whispered, straddling him and slipping him inside where he stretched you until you were gasping and grabbing at his shirt. With the fabric balled up in both fists, you leaned down to kiss him and whisper, "You're huge, Daddy."
"Mmm," he hummed, kissing you back but making no move to touch you. "Show me what you got, Baby."
You were clenching just from his words alone, and when you started riding him, you teased your own clit with your middle finger. He had you doing all the work to get yourself off. Not that it was difficult with his cock inside you and his handsome face to look at. When you squeezed your breasts, it looked like he was going to reach for you, but instead he just let himself relax and watch. It shouldn't have surprised you that you got off twice on him like this, moaning and jerking your body along. You were sweating and shaking after the second time you came, and Bradley eventually reached up and stroked his fingers along your neck again. 
"Did you get enough?" he asked, and you nodded vigorously. "You ready for me to cum in that pussy?" 
"God, yes," you moaned, and he brought his hands to your hips and guided you in a smooth rolling motion that would have been enough for you to finish again if you weren't so wrung out. 
"I'll cum for you," he grunted. "Every fucking time." And then he was gritting his teeth, the veins in his neck and forehead so prominent against his skin. And he came with your raspy name on his lips. 
You snuggled against his chest, thoroughly exhausted but honestly having the best day. He rubbed your back gently and kissed the top of your head. "God, you're such a good girl," he whispered, and you let out the most embarrassing sound in response that just made him chuckle. 
"I'm ready for bed," you informed him a minute later as you let his soft cock slip out of you. 
When you met his eyes, he kissed you softly and said, "Can you do one thing for me first? In the kitchen?" 
So you pulled your underwear and shirt back on and shuffled into the kitchen with his hand on your hip. He nodded at the table, and you sank down, exhausted, into one of the chairs. 
"Would you mind filling this out?" he asked, handing you a pen and some paperwork. But you froze when you really looked at it.
"You want me to fill out a petition for an order of protection?" you asked, looking up at him. "Against Meredith? Did Tracy say this was a good idea?"
He kissed you so well, you decided to stop questioning everything. And when he said, "Yes, Princess. Please fill it out," he stood next to your chair as you started writing your name at the top. You filled everything out all the way to the bottom. You wrote a bit about Meredith at Myers Park which gave you chills. When you filled out your social security number, Bradley removed his hand from your back to type something up in his phone. But when you got to the end and saw that it would require over four hundred bucks to process this form, you pushed it aside. 
"You know, I don't think this is actually necessary." You set the pen down on top of it and added, "I think the most important thing is that you and Noah have some sort of protection in place like-"
Bradley silenced you with a lingering kiss that trailed off into a dozen tiny kisses before he pulled his lips away from yours. "It's necessary. I need to know that I did everything I could to keep you and Noah protected, okay? And I'll pay for it."
But you didn't want him to. You should be able to do things like that for yourself. And you would! In a few weeks you'd hopefully have a steady income. Things would be different then. You could buy new clothes, and it wouldn't be the end of the world if your car died. But right now, paying to have this form processed would be a stretch beyond what you could afford. And you were about to tell Bradley no and rip it up, but he was holding his phone screen in front of your face. 
"Pick a design," he said, placing the phone in your hand. "They have one with a princess crown I thought you might enjoy."
"What's this for?" you asked, completely puzzled while looking at the Mastercard website. "I don't need another credit card."
"I added you to my account," he said confidently. "Just pick a design so I can order your card and have it arrive before I deploy."
"What?" you gasped, handing the phone right back to him and standing up. "No, you don't have to do that. Don't add me."
"I already did, Baby. I just read your social security number off the form you filled out. Choosing a card design is the last step, and the page is going to time out in a minute. You want the one with the princess crown?"
"You shouldn't be paying for things for me," you protested. "I'll use my own credit card while you're away. I'll have a job!"
"No," he said, shaking his head and holding up his phone. "When I'm gone, you'll be one hundred percent responsible for Noah. I'm adding you as a temporary guardian for him. I'm paying for an order of protection for you. I'm paying for everything. You have thirty four seconds left to pick a card design, by the way."
You glanced at the screen and looked at the timer before meeting his eyes again. "I can use my own card, and you can pay me back later."
"Absolutely not. You're making my life easier. Just knowing that Noah is with you of all people serves a dual purpose. I know he'll be taken care of, and I know you won't be too lonely. Twelve seconds."
"But, Bradley-"
"Pick a card, or I'll leave Noah with Penny."
You glared at him and reached out to tap the purple credit card design with the gold crown on it. 
"Now was that really so hard?" he asked with a satisfied smile. 
"You're obnoxious." But you kissed his cheek, and then he followed you to the bathroom for a shower, reminding you that he put five hundred dollars cash behind the TV.
----------------------------
Your graduation was coming up on Friday night, and you'd been so busy all week, Bradley had barely seen you. You told him both of your interviews had gone well when you got home on Tuesday, but you hadn't shared much more beyond that. He got the sense that you were hoping for one or two job offers, but you didn't want to jinx anything. So he just asked you a few open ended questions as you snuggled on the couch with him. 
Then you told him he and Noah would have to eat leftovers for dinner on Wednesday, because you were going out with some people you knew from school. 
"Will Greyson be there?" he asked immediately, wrapping his hands around your waist. "Or those other fraternity idiots who deserve to feel my fists connect with their faces?"
You placed open mouthed kisses along his scarred neck in response before promising it was only a few girls going out together. "Just some ladies who will drool on themselves if I mention how sexy you are. But I appreciate your enthusiasm, Daddy."
"You want me to drop you off and pick you up? Just in case? And that way you can drink as much as you want?" He knew he sounded clingy. He felt fucking clingy. It must be the result of his upcoming deployment weighing so heavily on his mind, but he didn't really care. He wanted you with him all the damn time, and he wanted you to know it.
You responded by raking your fingers through his hair and sucking on his neck. "You're such a Daddy," you whined, dragging your lips along his skin and kissing his stubbled jaw. "You always want to take care of me, but I always want to take care of you."
And a minute later, you were sucking his dick like only you could. Soft, innocent eyes that just made him harder, and long lashes that brushed your cheeks when you gagged on him. After he came for you, he watched you swallow him down and then lay with your cheek on his bare thigh with your fingers softly brushing along his trimmed hair up to his abs. 
"You take care of me," he whispered after a few silent beats, earning him a smirk as your lips grazed his soft cock. "And not just like that. You make my house feel warm. You adore my kid." As he ran his knuckles softly along your cheek, he watched your eyes flutter closed. "I've never loved someone like this before."
"You haven't?" you asked softly as your warm breath teased his thigh. 
"No," he promised. "Nothing even close to this, Princess." 
So when Wednesday night came, and you went out, Bradley put Noah to bed after he whined about how he missed you. Then he settled on the couch alone and put a movie on. When the movie ended, and you still weren't back, he thought about texting you. Had he misunderstood about you going back to your forgotten rental for the night or something? The idea made him uncomfortable. You didn't belong there any longer. 
Bradley responded to some texts from Nat so his phone would already be in his hand if you tried to contact him. He was just deleting some old emails when he heard your car pull into the driveway, and then your key was in the door. 
"Hi," you whispered, rushing inside and gently closing the door before heading his way in your pretty dress. You were smiling as you climbed right on top of him where he was stretched out on the couch. 
"Hi," he replied before your lips met his. "Did you have fun?"
You grinned and braced your hands on the arm of the couch behind his head. "Yes, but I missed you. And I logged in to check my grades when they posted at six o'clock."
He let his hands rest on your back. "And? How did you do?"
"I had a 4.0 this semester, probably because you're the best study partner, Daddy."
He smiled up at you. "Or maybe you got perfect grades, because you're perfect. And Noah and I will be in the front row at your graduation on Friday. Can't wait to watch my perfect girlfriend in action."
"Are you really going to sit in the front row?" you asked with a kiss to his cheek.
"Yeah. I'll push my way up there. I'll knock over elderly people if I have to."
"Oh," you said with a snicker, "so you'll knock over people your own age for a better seat?"
Bradley smacked your ass while you laughed, and he hauled you to bed.
-----------------------------
You wanted to tell Bradley your good news in person, but you didn't get a chance to see him before your commencement ceremony started. Where you were standing off to the side backstage, you could see the front row starting to fill up. When you saw someone's elderly grandmother hustling along with a walker, you had to bite back your laughter. Because a moment later, Bradley came rushing for one of the only remaining empty seats left up front with Noah in his arms. 
As soon as they were settled in, you pulled out your phone and texted him. 
Nice work. You didn't even have to trip that old lady to get a seat.
You watched him take his phone out of his pocket and smile as he entered his passcode. Then his shoulders shook with laughter as he eyed the woman and her walker where she sat right next to him. And then he started to look around the room, clearly trying to figure out where you were, but it was time for you to collect your diploma. 
Bradley Bradshaw: Nothing is going to keep us from watching our Princess. Noah is very excited.
You were excited, too. For so many reasons. When your name was called, and you walked across the stage to collect your diploma, you could hear Bradley's voice over the rest of the crowd in the auditorium. As you turned back toward your seat, you blew them a kiss. And you barely heard a word of the speeches, because you couldn't keep your eyes off them. 
And then it was all over, and you were no longer a student. Anxious to get to them so you could get home and talk to Bradley, you nearly tripped over the old lady's walker yourself. "Careful," Bradley said, laughing harder than you thought was necessary as he caught you. "Or you'll be the one who needs a walker."
You ignored him and kissed Noah's chubby cheek as he hugged you around your neck. He tried to say congratulations a few times, but then he just went back to hugging you instead. 
"I love you, sweet Noah. And I love you too, Daddy."
"Ready?" Bradley asked, taking Noah from your arms and leading the way out to the parking lot with his hand resting on your back. 
You followed them in your car, and when you pulled into the driveway, Bradley was scooping Noah out of his carseat. "He's out," he muttered as you opened the front door for them. 
You gasped. The house smelled like fresh flowers and something sweet. When you turned on the light, there were flowers everywhere. Noah had made a banner out of construction paper that was all taped together. And when you went into the kitchen, you found champagne, a stack of adult coloring books, and a small cake decorated with Skittles. It took Bradley a minute to get Noah in his bed, but when he strolled into the kitchen still wearing his sexy suit, you threw yourself at him. 
"Let's open the champagne," he muttered next to your ear. "And then we can eat some Skittles cake. And you can take me to bed and do whatever you want with me."
You giggled as he backed you up to the counter. "I have more good news."
It wasn't lost on you the way Bradley's lips parted in silence before his eyes dipped down to your belly. "Do you?"
You nodded and bit your lip. Maybe what you had to say wasn't actually that exciting at all, but you blurted out, "I got two job offers."
"Princess!" Bradley gasped, gathering you up into his arms. "Of course you did, Baby. Everyone wants a piece of you." He set you down on the counter and kissed you about a thousand times. He told you he was proud of you. He told you he would help you make a decision by next week. And then he fed you some Skittles cake, but you insisted on splitting it with him 50/50.
----------------------------
Daddy will be gone soon. I have a lot of asks about dirty/sweet/loving/rough goodbye sex with Daddy and Princess. So stay tuned for that. Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !
PART 29
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nickfowlerrr · 8 months
Text
i never thought you’d happen to me - 1
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part two / part three
pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader
warnings: 18+ only. smut (part two), fluff, bit of angst. time travel via magic. dad!bucky and mom!reader. steve x nat. some morally dubious homemade porn viewing 💀 (part two). if i’m missing anything that should be tagged, please lmk!
words: just a bit over 6k.
notes: this idea came from a prompt post i saw not too long ago and coincidentally fell into some bingo spots for my @the-slumberparty bingo card.
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fair warning: this is so completely self indulgent and a little trope overload lol but i had such a good time working on it and it was fun to write so who really cares 😌 thank you in advance for reading and reblogging! as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated. please let me know what you think! 🥰
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It’s another late Friday night as you and the team lounge around the common room, nearly empty takeout containers scattered around the table, glasses and bottles of your drinks much the same. There’s a movie no one is watching playing on the large screen as the current conversation around you continues.
You’re not sure how telling a story from your last mission with Bucky has turned into this once again, but here you are. Another cute remark from Sam about his expectancy to be in the wedding party earns him another glare from you.
“Hey, you side-eye now but in ten years you’ll look back and realize how right we all were,” he says, elbowing Bucky slightly. “Tinman by your side,” he adds with a grin - clearly amused with himself.
“That is not my future,” you say with a humorless chortle.
“I can show you your future,” Wanda speaks from her spot on the couch, everyone turning their heads at once to look at her. She’s been unusually quiet the past few minutes - not engaging much in the conversation as she observed it instead. She takes another sip of her wine as she meets your gaze, foot swinging lazily as she keeps one leg crossed over the other.
She tilts her head at you while you eye her with a raised brow, a look of incredulity on your face.
“What?” she questions, confused at not only yours, but everyone’s, lack of response.
“Come on,” you laugh lightly, brushing her off.
“I’m serious.”
“Wanda, I don’t need to see what my future looks like to know that Bucky will be playing no part in it.”
A round of scoffs, snickers and a groan erupt from around the living room as you roll your eyes. You catch Bucky, seated across from you, doing the same as you turn your face.
“You’re all very funny, and I’m glad you’re amused with yourselves, but I can’t sit here and listen to the same inane conversation over again, soooo,” you pause for a breath, “I’m going to bed,” you clap as you stand from your spot on the couch.
“Look, I don’t speak for everyone, but I am not joking in the slightest,” Kate laughs as she leans back into her seat. Aiming finger guns at you and Bucky, “You guys,” she says, “are endgame.”
“And you, my friend, are drunk.”
Another round of laughs before the previous chatter resumes among the group, a story of misadventure now being told from Parker’s perspective, and you can hear Stark’s interjections already.
You grab your empty glass and head to the kitchen, Wanda following shortly after you.
“You’re stubborn,” she says with no preamble.
You turn with a quirked brow, “Am I?”
“Very. So much so, I think I may need your permission.”
“Sorry...uhm, for?” you ask, clearly confused.
“I think you should see it.” Your face falls slack at her words as you turn back to finish washing out your glass.
“Wanda, -” you go to laugh again.
“No, actually,” she stops you, correcting herself, “you need to see it. You’re stunting yourself. You’re constantly getting in your own way. I think it’d be good for you, to see what you can have if you finally allow it to come to you.”
You're quieted by her sincerity for a moment, half because you weren’t taking any of the previous conversation seriously, and half because you didn’t think it was something she was actually capable of doing. In fact, you still didn’t. But if she wanted to try, who were you to argue.
“Uhhh,” you begin, shaking your head lightly, “I mean, if you really want to, then, go for it, I guess. You have my permission.”
“Good,” she smiles, turning to walk back out to the other’s.
“Wow, wait,” you stop her, “like, what exactly are you gonna do?”
“Just a swap,” she says simply. “A day in the life of your future self. You don’t have to do anything, just go to sleep tonight and you’ll see.”
Your eyes narrow in thought, “...This isn’t dangerous, right?”
“No, not at all. You guys will be fine. 24 hours and you’ll wake up in your own beds, safe and sound. I promise.”
She smiles and flits away quickly. You shake your head at yourself again, still unsure what exactly you’ve agreed to. And it isn’t until you’re walking down the hallway back to your room that what she said actually catches up to you.
You guys will be fine?
You stop walking when you hear footsteps behind you, glancing back to find Bucky coming down the hall. You swallow hard and turn back around, not far from your door.
“Stalker much?” you say without facing him, earning a scoff in return.
He’s barely a step behind you now, though his sudden proximity is not all that surprising. You’ve grown used to his stealth.
“In your dreams.”
“More like waking nightmares. Every time I turn around it’s like you’re always just right there.”
“Maybe if you didn’t put yourself into jeopardy every five minutes I wouldn’t have to shadow you so often.”
You’re walking side by side and you get to your door as he speaks. You turn on him, instantly irritated.
“Are you being serious?” you level at him. He doesn’t respond. “How are you still hung up on Belarus? It was one mission. That was not on me, I didn’t fuck up. No one else saw them coming, either,”
“I did.”
“Well, sorry I’m not as infallible as the one and only Bucky Barnes,” you speak exaggeratedly, annoyance clear in your tone. “You still act like I’m some kind of liability. I’ve been careful. I’m riding a lengthy no injury streak and we’ve still yet to fail a single mission. After how many assignments we’ve been on together, you think you’d start taking me more seriously.”
“I never said I didn’t take you seriously. Just think sometimes you’re still a little too cocky for your own good.”
“For the thousandth time, I’m not clueless, Barnes. I don’t need you monitoring my every move. Not during training, not on missions, and definitely not walking down a hallway at night. I think I can handle getting to my room alone. Or is assuming that too cocky of me?” you ask with a tilt of your head, sarcasm dripping off your tongue.
You don’t wait for a response before you turn to your door and let yourself in, snapping it shut behind you.
You flick on the light and are quickly greeted by a room that is… definitely not yours. You pause for a second, taking in your surroundings before you deflate with a sigh, following it up with a deep breath. You turn the light back off and then turn back around to the door. You wait for a second longer with your hand on the handle before you force yourself to exit the room.
Just like you knew he would be, Bucky is still standing right where you left him; a stupid smirk on his stupidly handsome face.
“Wrong room,” he says.
“Fuck off,” you grumble as you walk a little further down the hall, to your actual door.
“Goodnight to you, too,” Bucky says as he continues to his own room, not far from you. You send him a glare and a “hmph” before shutting your door and getting ready for bed.
You’re not helpless. You’re not clueless. You’re damn good at what you do. But fuck if Bucky doesn’t have a knack for knocking you off kilter with a single look.
—-
It’s a soft shaking that wakes you from your peaceful sleep. You’re so comfortable, you don’t want to move - you don’t even want to blink open your eyes. But the shaking comes again. Your brows furrow as your arms tighten around your pillow and you cuddle further into it.
Only it’s not your pillow.
It takes a second for you to process that instead, it’s a warm body you’re pressing yourself against before your eyes snap open.
You look up and find a confused Bucky staring down at you.
When your eyes meet, though, there’s a bit of softness there. And as you take in his face, you relax a bit again. His presence beside you is at once comforting as it is confounding.
“What are you doing?” you both ask at the same time - only furthering your confusion.
You suddenly realize you’re still wrapped around him and quickly sit up and give him space.
“Why are you in my bed?” you ask as you rub your eyes with the palms of your hands.
“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” he says as he looks around, “but I don’t think we’re at the tower.”
You look up and blink away the fuzziness. Then it hits you.
“Oh shit,” you murmur.
“What? You know where we are?” he asks as he stands and starts looking around, inspecting the room. “Better yet, how the hell we got here?”
“Maybe…Would you believe me if I said we might possibly be in the future?”
Bucky turns and looks at you incredulously.
“Wanda,” you speak at the same time.
“For fuck’s sake,” he says as he runs a hand over his face.
“In my defense,” you begin, “when I agreed to this, I didn’t think she’d be able to do it. I also didn’t think it’d involve anyone else..”
“What do you mean you agreed to this? What is this?”
“She said I needed to see the future. It’d be good for me, or whatever, so I said okay. She said it was uh, a future swap? 24 hours. Day in the life and then I’d wake up back in my own bed the next day.”
“And you agreed to it?”
“Fuckin’, yeah, obviously,” you huff. “I didn’t think it’d be.. Real? I don’t know.”
“So, so what? We’re stuck in some unknown future for the next 24 hours?”
“What part of ‘I don’t know’ do you not understand?”
“Why would you agree to something like this without fully knowing what it is you’re agreeing to? This is exactly what I’m talking about when I say-”
“Spare me, Barnes. It’s Wanda, okay? We’re fine. It’s 24 hours, and I’m assuming that clock started when we fell asleep last night, so really it’s only…,” your voice dies down as you look to the clock on the bedside table. The time isn’t what catches your eye, though.
No.
It’s the framed photo behind it that derails your train of thought.
“No fucking way,” you breathe as you grab it in disbelief.
You stare at the photo of you and Bucky, a close up of you in a sweet embrace, adorning soft smiles as you share a chaste kiss, your left hand touching his cheek, and what you can only assume is a wedding ring sitting pretty on your finger.
This has to be some kind of dream. That’s it. You’re dreaming. Duh. Your hand moves before your mind does and you slap yourself in your face as hard as you can manage, sure it’ll wake you up and you’ll be back in the tower, in your own bed, alone.
“What the fuck?!” Bucky exclaims in surprise as you wince slightly and hold your cheek as it stings. He walks over to you, becoming more tentative as you look up at him.
“‘M not dreaming. Are you?”
“No, I’m wide awake, believe me,” he says as he gets closer. “Don’t slap me, either.”
You eye him harshly before handing him the frame.
“Well, it.. Explains why you’re here, at least,” you say, voice quieter than you intended as your thoughts were still reeling. “We’re not just in my future, we’re in-”
“Our future,” he finishes as he stares at the photo himself.
“Yeah.”
“So, our room…” he says more to himself than to you. He makes his way around the room, pulling open drawers and looking in the closet as you stand and head for the bathroom.
You meet yourself in the mirror, sure enough, you still look the same. You’re you.
Walking back out into the room, you head for the window, pulling back the curtain. As you peer out, you’re expecting to see a skyline, or city street, but instead you’re met with the view of an open yard.
You pull away from the window in surprise, “Are we in a house?”
You turn to Bucky, who turns to face you. You both head to the bedroom door, you following behind him as he takes the lead.
It’s a house. Definitely a house.
The bedroom door leads to a long hallway, three doors along the right back wall, another door at the far end opposite your own, and to the left of that, on the left wall, is another room.
In the middle of the hallway is an opening, and you and Bucky turn there without inspecting any of the other rooms.
You find yourselves in a living room, before walking into the kitchen.
“We should look around,” you say in a whisper - why, you aren’t sure.
“What exactly are you planning on finding?” he questions as you pull open a drawer, sifting around.
“I don’t know? More information. Like what we’re doing here. What we do. What year it is. Maybe we learn something and it’ll send us home sooner? I don’t know, just, something,” you answer, on edge already by being surrounded by the unknown and only growing more agitated at his every word.
“Why are you getting mad at me?”
“I’m not getting-,” you stop yourself, taking a breath, “sorry. Okay? I thought you were trying to be a dick,”
“Why do you assume I’m being a dick?” he asks, annoyed himself now.
"Because you always act like a fucking dick!", you nearly yell as you slam the kitchen drawer shut.
"Fucking dick!"
You both freeze at the high, sweet-sounding voice that comes from behind you. Your brows furrow as you glance at Bucky, his reaction to the mirthful echo much the same as yours, before you both slowly turn around.
The sight you're met with has you both frozen in shock.
A set of twin toddlers clad in matching pajamas, both of whom bear a striking resemblance to you and Bucky, are staring at you both.
You can't explain why, but your heart is gripped by the mere sight of them. It's something more than just their cuteness, it's something instinctual. How it's possible, you're not sure, but you know, somehow, that they're really yours. Future or not, those are absolutely your kids.
It seems with each passing moment, you and Bucky are left more and more stunned by how your future is turning out, but as you notice the little boy's eyes watering and the pout on his little lips as he looks right at you, you can't seem to care about anything else.
“Hey, buddy,” you squat down and hold your arms open for him, and he waddles to you right away as his eyes well more and more. He hugs you, still pouting as he cuddles into your chest and you hold him tightly as you stand, exchanging another glance with Bucky who looks nearly stupefied until the soft voice of the girl rings out once again.
Your eyes shoot to her as she twirls around clumsily, a chant of "fucking dick" leaving her lips over and over before she starts to tilt, seemingly having made herself dizzy. You're about to gasp, moving forward instinctually as you watch her wobble a bit more, but she's in Bucky's arms in an instant as he grabs her before she falls.
"Woah, there, sweetheart," he says with a small laugh as she dramatically goes limp in his arms. An exhausted breath leaves her little lungs as she breathes out the repetition one final time. She then lifts her tiny hand up to Bucky’s cheek, effectively slapping him as she plants it, blinking up at him. “What’s this?” she asks him curiously as she smooshes his face, feeling his stubble.
“Uhh…It’s hair. I haven’t shaved - Ow,” he exaggerates when she interrupts him and pats his cheek again, a bit harder this time, though you know it didn’t hurt him in the slightest. It makes the girl laugh, though.
“You should shave, Daddy,” she advises, pulling a face.
Her words pull a breathless laugh from him as he gazes down at the small girl, a lump forming in his throat as he takes everything in. He feels crazy, but he can see you in her, and he can see himself, too. Her and her brother, they both look like the perfect little combinations of the two of you. And they’re both so comfortable with you guys. So at ease and uninhibited, just like children should be..
It’s a stark contrast to how he grew up and he can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment, of pride, knowing that he isn’t repeating the cycle he swore would die with him.
He’d stopped letting his mind wander to what if futures long ago, but when he did imagine what it’d be like to have a family of his own, this is the kind of peace he longed for. The happy, settled down future he was sure he’d never have.
And you.
Your hand has been mindlessly rubbing the boy's back in an effort to comfort him as he cuddles into you, that never faltering pout pulling every string your heart has as Bucky attends to the girl relaxing in his arms.
"Linc's sad, Mommy," the girl says, pointing at her brother. The title has you swallowing hard, your heart clenching at how sweetly she calls to you.
Linc?... Must've been Bucky, you think briefly before you gently pull him away from you slightly so you can see him better, his bleary blue eyes peering up at you.
"Why are you yelling at Daddy?" he pouts still. Your brows furrow and mouth parts on an inhale, as if you're going to answer him, but nothing comes out as you try and think of what you can say. His innocent question stumping you.
"It's alright, pal, we were just kiddin' around," Bucky offers as he gets closer to you both. You look at him, a bit guilty but thankful for the save.
"Can we have pancakes, Daddy?" the girl asks as she wriggles around like a worm in his hold.
"Pancakes! Please!" Linc smiles as he continues hanging onto you, seemingly happy with Bucky's defense of you - any qualms he had long forgotten as he’s now focused on the mention of pancakes for breakfast.
"Sure," you answer for him, acquiescing easily with a smile before looking to Bucky with wide eyes.
You’re not entirely sure how exactly this all happens, but somehow you end up married with two kids. As shocking as it is, and as confused as you are about how, a part of you is grateful - maybe even happy - that Bucky is here. He may be an ass a lot of the time, overbearing and micromanaging your every move, but you guys have been through hell and back together. Partners from the very start of your time as an Avenger. If you’re being honest, this future makes more sense than you previously wanted to admit.
In an attempt to not freak out the twins, you know you have to play the part. Act like nothing is out of the ordinary and that you are indeed their mom. You are, technically, but you don’t have any idea what the hell you’re doing or what’s wholly needed of you. You’ve nannyed before, though. You know the basics..
"Have we brushed our teeth yet?" you ask the twins, sure the answer is a "no". Your and Bucky's arguing clearly is what woke them up, the yelling must have led them out here from their room.. Rooms?
"Mhm," the girl hums, though just from looking at her, the lie is evident as she avoids looking directly at you.
"Don't lie, Ellie," her brother chastises.
Ellie.. That must've been me, you think with a twitch of a smile before you set Linc down.
"Alright, go with Buc- your dad, and I'll start on the pancakes," you instruct before the twins burst out in giggles. You frown, brows furrowing as you watch them, hoping they'll let you know what exactly is so funny.
"No, we want daddy's pancakes, Mommy!"
"With chocolate chips and syrup!"
"Yeah, they want Daddy's pancakes, Mommy," Bucky taunts with a smirk as you shoot him an annoyed look. He seems a lot more comfortable now than he was a few minutes ago, and you can’t help but notice how easily he seems to be taking this; easing into his role in this place and time. He’s good.
"What's wrong with my pancakes?" you press the toddlers.
"Daddy's are better, but it's okay, your grilled cheese is the best,"
"Yeah! Oh, can we have grilled cheese for lunch, Mommy? Please, please, pleeease," Ellie begs cutely, leaning to you while still in Bucky's hold.
You huff a laugh, agreeing as Bucky sets Ellie down to follow you.
"See if you can find anything," you tell him as you meet his eye before following after the tikes pulling on your hands.
"Don't forget the chocolate, Daddy!"
Bucky watches as you're led to the bathroom before he starts moving around the kitchen. He's about to start looking around for more information on when exactly you are, and the kind of life you’re living, but thinks better of it for now. He'd rather not have two toddlers throw a fit over unfinished pancakes on top of everything else he's trying to wrap his head around at the moment.
He finds the pantry and grabs all the ingredients he needs for his mom's pancake recipe - the one he knows by heart- and gets to work on the batter. The chatter from the kids and you in the bathroom floats into the kitchen and he can’t help but smile at the sound of your voice as you talk to them.
He soon loses himself in the simplicity of the task at hand, and how nice it is to be here like this. He's in pajamas on a Saturday morning, making breakfast for his family as they start their day..
Seems entirely unreal, but a dream nonetheless. And as if that wasn’t enough to have his thoughts in a flurry, he still can't shake the feeling of how nice it was waking up with your soft body pressed against his. Opening his eyes to discover the warmth beside him was you. He was confused at first, wondering when and how you’d gotten into his room, but more so concerned about the why. He watched you for a minute before he noticed the bedding draped over the both of you. It wasn’t his and when he looked around the room, he realized he had no idea where you guys were. You were wrapped around him as you laid together in the comfy king bed, and it took him a second to try to wake you up. He knew he had to, of course, but if he was honest, he didn’t want the feeling to end. Your hold on him was comforting and he was completely at ease in your embrace, circumstances be damned. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in ages.
Though, that wasn’t entirely true. He remembers the last time he felt that way, and of course it was with you. You were stuck in a shoddy motel off the highway during a storm, the crappy jeep you’d been traveling in finally gave out half way through your drive back to the compound and you guys had no choice but to crash for the night. Of course the motel only had one singular room available with one singular bed. After some back and forth, you both decided you’d just share. It was big enough for the two of you, with space in between. When Bucky woke up that next morning, though, he found himself holding you tightly from behind, your arms wrapped over his as you slept peacefully in his embrace. He remembers the heat that crept up his neck and the flurry in his stomach that he still refuses to acknowledge as butterflies. He quickly loosened his hold and slipped away from you before you could even bat an eye. You were still none the wiser. He thought about that morning a lot after it happened.
He wondered what would’ve happened if you had woken up, too. What you would’ve said, what he could’ve said to you if he’d finally gotten out of his own way..
He can’t dwell on it anymore, though. He hasn’t. He won’t.
Except maybe he does.
And seeing as this is your future together, he thinks maybe that’s not as hopelessly embarrassing as he’s made himself believe it is.
And god, the sight of those kids. The warmth that bloomed in his chest as he took in their faces, he honestly was worried he would start crying if he stared too long. He had long given up on the idea of starting a family, he didn't think this life would ever be in the cards for him, and especially not with you.
But as he stood pouring chocolate chip pancake batter into a sizzling pan, he was struck by how right it felt.
Obviously, it wasn't right, neither of you should be here right now, and it made him wonder where exactly the future you and him were.
As soon as the thought went through his head, a tablet he hadn’t taken notice of on the back counter dinged.
He flipped the pancakes before he went to get the pad, taking the tablet in his hands. His face unlocked the device easily and opened up to his email account.
He clicked on the new, unread message from.. you?
—-
Hey Bucky.
Wanda says this is unnecessary but if I know me, I’m still probably freaking out internally. So, just letting you know that everything's fine. Or so she says.
We're gonna be back to our respective places in time come tomorrow.
I know waking up in the future - especially our future - may be hard to wrap your heads around, but it’s a hell of a lot better than waking up alone to a preening Wanda staring at you, trust me.
And you guys aren’t as oblivious as you try to be. You know, deep down, exactly why you’re there. Together. - and why it isn’t all that crazy.
And this goes without saying, but obviously, take care of the kids. Eleanor and Lincoln. If you haven’t found them yet, they’ll find you, I’m sure.
Today at 2pm, you need to drop them off at 7314 Wisteria Drive. That's Steve and Nat's house - so don't make it weird. They're keeping the kids so we can celebrate our anniversary.
Funny how that lines up..
So, anyway, apparently all we need to do on both ends is enjoy the 24 hour downtime. We’ll be waking up in our own beds before we know it.
Okay.
Bye.
(I’d say I love you but I don’t wanna freak you out. x)
Bucky just stares down at the email blankly while his brain tries to catch up. He's gonna have to have you read it yourself. Before he can fixate on that last line in particular, he can smell the browning of the pancakes.
His attention quickly returns to the food as he starts to plate it, shutting off the burner. The kiddie plates he finds in a cabinet earn a half smile from him as he cuts up the pancakes for the kids and spots their booster seats, placing the plates before them.
He hears them before he sees them as they come down the hallway, all laughs.
You appear just after they do, a look on your face he can't turn away from. Your soft smile and the adoration swimming in your eyes as you watch your kids, both of them waiting to be lifted up to sit down, is.. beautiful.
He catches himself staring before he turns his focus back to the table, lifting Eleanor into her seat before lifting Lincoln in his, earning a "thank you, daddy," from each of them in return, a wave of astonishment and pride coming over him yet again. He’s not sure if he’ll ever get used to that.
You listen as they talk back and forth about their pancakes and their laughter when they start playing with one another as they eat their lightly syruped bites.
You stand by Bucky, absentmindedly grabbing a pancake and biting into it, stopping almost immediately as the fluffiness catches you off guard. God, they were so right. These are amazing.
"Good, right?" Bucky's voice pulls you back as you swallow your bite.
You lick your lip before looking over at him. "Did you find anything?"
He hands you the tablet and watches as you read the email.
You click your tongue, and then stay silent for a minute.
He almost can’t believe it when you do it, looking at you incredulously once again after you suddenly slap yourself in the face once more.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he bites quietly, moving to stand in front of you and blocking your view of the kids momentarily.
"Just had to make sure," you reply, again cringing at the stinging of your cheek. You eye him before making a move to slap him, too, but he grabs your hand before you can make contact. He looks at you like you're insane as you huff again. "So this is..."
"This is real," he finishes for you. "That hard to believe, huh?"
"That's an understatement. So, I’m not dreaming. But are you sure you’re not dreaming?"
“You think my dreams involve waking up in the future with no memory of what’s gone on between me going to sleep to waking up? That’s a literal nightmare for me. Plus, I learned a while ago how to differentiate between my dreams and reality. Trust me, we’re not dreaming.”
You swallow thickly, an apology on the tip of your tongue. You hadn’t considered that before. Before you can voice your thoughts, though, you're distracted by the interaction between the kids at the table.
"Linc, I'll give you a piece and then you give me one of your piece, okay?"
"You take this one," Linc says as he gives his sister a piece off of his plate and she gives him a piece off of her's.
You can't help but chuckle at the exchange.
"We make cute kids, though," Bucky says, almost under his breath. But you still hear him, and you respond before your brain catches your tongue.
"Yeah, we do."
You push off the counter as Bucky watches you, surprised that you heard him and even more so by your agreement, though it'd be impossible for anyone to argue that your kids aren’t, in fact, ridiculously adorable.
"Do you guys want -"
"Orange juice, please!" Ellie answers before you even finish asking.
"And water, please," Linc follows.
"OJ and water, you got it."
----
You and Bucky get the kids ready to go to Steve and Nat's with minimal arguing... until you had to pack their bags.
What they should or shouldn't take with them was a point of contention as you ridiculed each other's choices. After your bickering and some input from Ellie and Linc, you guys just hoped they had everything they needed. You'd unnecessarily packed them three outfits each just in case of spills or messes and their diaper bag was loaded full, too. Maybe too much for one day, but better safe than sorry, right?
After loading the twins in the car, Bucky followed the GPS to the address you'd left in the email.
When you guys pulled up to the house, you were greeted by Natasha who was unloading groceries from her car. The domestic scene warmed your heart. She deserved the simplicity, the normalcy, and you were happy to know that one day, she’d have it.
She lit up as she saw you guys approaching and came right over, going straight for the back door.
Linc and Ellie were all smiles and giggles as they tried fruitlessly to escape their car seats in favor of being in Nat's arms.
"Bugs!!" Nat greeted them with an enthusiastic smile as she started working on their belts. "I've missed you guys so much! How long has it been? Ten years?"
They laughed in unison at her before Ellie corrected her. "Yesterday, Aunt Nattie!"
"Yesterday?" she questioned in faux disbelief.
She wasn't able to keep up the play, though as the second they were out of their seats, they nearly tackled her.
You watched Steve come outside, coming up to the car with a grin, a girl no more than ten and another toddler, maybe a little older than the twins, in tow.
"Get them inside for me, honey," Nat said to the oldest one. She looked nothing like either of them, dark hair and dark eyes, but still it was clear she was their daughter. The younger one looked like Steve, though, and you wonder briefly if that was just by chance or if they’d had a surrogate. Natasha had talked about the possibility before, and of adopting, but starting a family wasn’t something any of you were actually considering at the time, settling down and having kids wasn't really your focus when you were all trying to make sure the world wouldn’t be ending tomorrow. "We'll be right in. And pick a movie for the sleepover before your Dad does," she pretended to whisper, earning a laugh from the girl as she corralled the kids up the porch.
Nat turned her gaze back on you and Bucky, her stare nothing less than scrutinizing.
"Are you guys in pajamas?" she asked with a raised brow.
"Mh, uh, yeah," you laughed a little breathlessly before looking back at the house, distracted. "They didn't even say bye," you said in your disappointment. You'd only just met the kids, but you felt so instantly connected to them.
"Don't worry about them, they're gonna have fun tonight. And so are you two," she says pointedly, if not a bit suggestively, pulling you from your thoughts. You feel the heat that creeps up your skin and refuse to look at Bucky.
"What are you guys doin' tonight, did you decide?" Steve asks.
"Staying in," Bucky blurts out as you blink and smile. But their faces at that, their smirks of acknowledgement make you grow hotter as you try to not let your embarrassment show.
"Mhm," you hum tight lipped.
It's quiet for a moment as you all watch one another before Steve breaks the silence.
"You guys are acting weird."
"Are we?" you question back too quickly.
"Yeah. You are," Nat says.
"Sugar," Bucky blurts out again. "They're loaded up on sugar. Sorry, they really wanted pancakes this morning. But uh, look, thanks for watching them. We should uh, get going, so.."
"Yeah, we should go," you agree. "What time do you want us to pick them up?"
"We're dropping them off tomorrow afternoon, right?" Steve questioned. "Or did you not want them to go with us?"
"No, oh, right. Duh! I just forgot - that's what we talked about. Because you're taking them to.." you trail off, prompting them.
"The gardens?" Nat finishes.
"Right, yes, the gardens. Which is great. And we appreciate it so much. And if you need anything or anything happens, ya know just call us," you continue on as Bucky starts to pull away. You fight the urge you have to glare at him until you finish your awkward goodbye and Steve and Nat watch you both drive off, clearly confused about the weird interaction.
"Did you miss the part of the email where it explicitly said: don't make it weird?" Bucky asks.
"Fuck off, you were no better," you scowl as you slump in the seat. "What now?"
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enapoe · 4 months
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ᨳ hypocrite
synopsis - y/n's brother is a star soccer player — which is why she refuses to date athletes. (like she dates anyone). But when she's put in charge of the sports section in the school newspaper, she coincidentally makes the star player fall for her.
genre - soccerplayer!hoon × nerdy/writer!reader. FLUFF what is angst? we don't know her. hoon's a rich boy, yn has a famous big bro 🙄 cliché nerd catches athletes eye whatever, whatever
warnings - kiss kiss (duh) lmk if I missed any o(^o^)o
word count - 434
A/N - this story is a lot of my imagination, but after some digging I think @/eeunoia has jungwon fic (Attention Please! Mini series) similar in the sense that both female leads write about the sports team. So before people say I'm not crediting them or stealing their work here I am saying that both our stories have this one thing in common. (Also also, they're a very amazing writer and their stories are adorable and heart fluttering)
PART 2 here !
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The library was your favorite place in the entire city.
Something about the smell of books and coffee that ligures through the book shelves is both comforting and slightly concerning. The library has seen better days but a fair amount of students still come in everyday to study. Sometimes — if you're lucky — people come in for dates, you love people watching, but watching two young people fall in love is S tier. Romance is your favorite genre; books, movies, anything that makes you red in the face and butterflies appear in your stomach.
Even after many failed relationships back in middle school, (don't ask, it was mainly teenage boys filled with uncontrolled hormones) you haven't given dating a second chance. Romance and love was like biting into a creme filled donut—or even better, homemade soup on a cold winter day—it wasn't what your brother said romance is at all.
He's the best brother you could ever ask for, yet his dating life is one of pure nightmares. It seems like everyday Dispatch has a new article about him. He's never brought a girl home, which means he's never been with a girl for longer than one night.
Since his love life consists of picking up a girl and dropping them the next day, you've always told yourself: you will never date an athlete. Yes, in fear they'll use you, but also because you're scared they'd only like you if they find out about your brother.
Whilst in your internal monologue, you didn't notice someone walking up to you.
“Um, excuse me? Do you work here?” you turned and were met with someone's chest. Damn. You looked up and saw the eyes of the one and only star player of the soccer (football) team.
“Oh! Yes, I work here. Can I help you with anything?” Sunghoon found your appearance cute. Not like the ‘I'd date you’ cute but maybe like a newborn puppy type. You wore a baggy beige crew neck and a pair of acid wash jeans, with your hair down and straightened. “I need this book called ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’, do you guys have it here?” After a second of silence, you nodded and led him to the mature reading section of the library.
“Thanks for the help…” you think he's asking for your name. “Y/n, Go Y/n” you giggle like a middle schooler and hate youself for it after. “I'll see you around Go Y/n.” He puts the book in his bag and stops before turning back towards you.
“I'm supposed to check this out, aren't I?”
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gingiesworld · 6 months
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Obsessions (2/?)
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Wanda Maximoff x Rogers Fem Reader
Warnings: Angst. Smut. Toxic Wanda.
AN: Ok, it seems it may be longer than just two parts :) I am just too invested in this arc between the two of them.
Taglist: @sytoran @ginnsbaker @gb12d @lifespectator
Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6
18+ MINORS DNI
Y/N had thought she had managed to leave Wanda behind, but Wanda had other plans. She had recieved scholarships from other schools, even Ivy league schools but she chose to go to NYU.
"Why are you doing this Wanda?" Pietro asked as he packed his things before heading out to LA.
"NYU is a great school. It has an amazing drama programme." She feigned as her twin saw right through her.
"If you were going to patch things up with Y/N then I would understand but." He sighed as he stared at his twin. "Y/N has been through a lot, and she never had anyone when she needed them. She never had you."
"Well she is a big girl." Wanda spat before she headed towards his bedroom door.
"What happened to you Wanda?" He questioned, she paused without turning to face him as he continued. "You used to be so selfless, kind and caring, now you're just like every superficial girl who will inevitably be alone." She shook her head as her eyes filled with tears as she slammed his bedroom door shut, heading straight to her own as she watched Y/N from her window.
"I can't believe my baby is leaving me." Peggy smiled as she brought out some fresh homemade lemonade as Y/N worked on the car.
"I know but I need you to promise me you will look after her." Y/N pleaded with her as she took the cold glass. "I can't take her with me because it's pointless with the traffic in New York but I will be getting the train back here every Friday too."
"I will look after her." Peggy told her. "If you want, I can just use your car through the week."
"No." Y/N whispered as she looked at the car, knowing that Peggy would be too hard on the breaks. "Maybe I should just give up on college and get a job."
"No." Peggy told her sternly. "I will warm the engine up everyday, Uncle Bucky will change the oil on the dates you've marked, and you will go to college. Become an Illustrator and make your father proud."
"I miss him." Y/N whispered as Peggy gave her a sad smile.
"He would be so proud of the woman you have become." Peggy cupped her cheek before giving it a pinch making Y/N laugh lightly. But once she heard that Wanda was heading to NYU, she was second guessing going.
"We will have different classes so I most likely won't see her." Y/N reasoned as she and Pietro through the football back and forth. "NYU is a big school and we may be in different dorms too."
"I really admire thr optimism Y/N." He smirked as Y/N shrugged.
"It's either that or don't go at all." She told him. "And my mom wants me to go."
"Well then go. Don't let my sister stop you from following your dreams." He told her with a gentle smile.
"Thanks P." She said sincerely as she caught the ball. "Go long." She told him as she threw the ball, watching as Pietro ran down the field and caught. The two cheered goofily before the collapsed beside each other.
The move to New York was something, the bustling halls of the dorms as Y/N found her own room. Seeing a red head on the other bed, reading a book.
"Hey." Y/N greeted her shyly.
"Hi." She beamed as she sat up. "You must be Y/N. I'm Natasha." The two started to get to know each other as they decorated Y/N's side of the dorm. Not realising that the person she wanted to avoid so much was only behind the wall.
Wanda was setting up her room as a brunette walked in. Smiling softly before she turned to her roommate.
"I'm Wanda." She introduced herself as she held her hand out.
"I'm Maria." She shook Wanda's hand. "I was just grabbing my purse." She turned to Wanda as she reached the door. "Do you want to join my friend and I at this new cafè?"
"Yeah. Let me just grab my coat." Wanda smiled as she put her coat back on. As Wanda was locking their door, Maria greeted her friend just outside.
"This is Y/N. Y/N this is Maria." Nat told her, Wanda soon turned to look at Y/N with a smirk.
"Fuck." Y/N muttered as Nat looked at her. "You know what, I'm actually feeling a little sick right now."
"You should lie down then." Nat told her as Y/N nodded.
"I will." Y/N bid her goodbye to Maria before disappearing inside the room, locking the door behind her.
As the weeks went by, she tried her hardest to avoid Wanda at any cost. Even if it meant waking up earlier and heading to the dining hall for breakfast before she sat outside the art class with her sketchbook and pencils.
As much as she loved to draw comics and sketches, she also loved to do landscapes and even do portraits. It was like a little side hobby.
"That's pretty." Wanda sneered as she leaned over Y/N's shoulder who just stopped her movements. Putting her things away before moving as far from Wanda as possible.
"Why are you following me?" She asked her ex friend who just shrugged.
"It's fun." Wanda smirked as she stepped closer until Y/N was backed up against the wall. "Besides, I haven't stopped thinking about you since prom night. Even as Jarvis was fucking me in the back of his car, I thought of you. Fucking me with your fingers." She held Y/N's hand and moved it to her lips, sucking on her fingers. "Then I would ride that strap I know you have hidden, while you are sucking and biting my nipples."
"Fuck you." Y/N spat as Wanda chuckled, watching as Y/N pushed passed her and headed to her building. Although a part of Wanda felt guilty, but she was too hopped on the adrenaline coursing through her veins to care.
That was the start of Wanda's claws slowly sinking in, even at the parties they were invited to, Wanda would watch Y/N's every move. Watching as she talked to other girls, but the one that urked her was Jean Grey. She was Wanda's rival in theatre and she hated her guts.
The feeling in her stomach grew more and more intense as she watched Jean laugh at something Y/N had said, touching her bicep as Wanda's gaze torn through them. What really got her was when she found the two kissing, well eating each other's face with Jean pressed up against the wall in the hall, so Wanda decided to walk passed and pretend to be drunk and bump into the two.
"What the fuck Wanda?!" Y/N yelled as she tried to wipe the alcohol from her jacket.
"Sorry." Wanda spoke with false sincerity. "I was just heading to the bathroom." With that she walked away as she heard Jean say she was going to find Scott. Soon enough Y/N pushed her into the nearest bathroom and Wanda up against the door.
"Why are you doing this?" Y/N asked her, anger was evident in her eyes and body language.
"No one else should get to kiss you." Wanda spat at her.
"I am not yours Wanda!" Y/N yelled as she wrapped her hand around Wanda's neck, squeezing lightly which caused her to whimper. Clenching her thighs at the simple action. "I was happy when we graduated because I thought I wouldn't need to see you again but you seem to have this obsession over me and I am fucking sick of it!"
"Please." Wanda whispered as she opened her eyes, gazing at Y/N through her eyelashes, her pupils blown with lust and desire. Her core aching with need, a need to be fucked mercilessly by Y/N. "I need it." She gripped Y/N's other hand and led it to between her thighs, sighing as she felt Y/N rub her clothed core. The arousal dripping as she thought of Y/N's fingers ruining her.
"You're pathetic." Y/N growled as she moved her underwear to the side, her lips ghosting Wanda's who moaned as Y/N licked her lips. Her fingers running through Wanda's soaked folds before finding her clit, rubbing circles which soon made Wanda's knees weak.
"I am." Wanda nodded as Y/N pushed two fingers inside of her gaping hole. Thrusting painfully slow as Y/N sighed against her lips. Her own core aching as she touched Wanda. Y/N had had a crush on her when they were friends, even after starting High School, she hated herself because she was still obsessed with the one person who broke her heart without even knowing it.
"Do you know how I have dreamt of this?" Y/N snarled as she went harder, adding another finger as Wanda whimpered as Y/N curled her fingers, finding her g spot with ease. "Four years. Although freshman and sophmore it was just an innocent crush but then you started to date Jarvis." Wanda moaned as Y/N kept her movements steady. "Then I wanted to ruin you. I wanted so bad to fuck you in the back of my car, on your bed and even on the field we used to go when we were younger, just to fuck you under the stars."
"Fuck." Wanda panted. "I need more."
"Tsk." Y/N shook their head no. "I am the one in control." Y/N removed her hands from Wanda before she could even cum. "And you will not cum. Not until I see fit." Y/N gripped Wanda's jaw as she gazed into her eyes. "You will not be the first girl that cums on these finger this year." Y/N ghosted her lips before speaking once more. "You left me when I needed you the most. You made my life hell so now you can suffer." She pulled away to wash her hands as Wanda stood there staring. "You won't be able to cum again, not when you know how my fingers feel, filling up your pussy." Y/N gave her a rough kiss as she pushed her against the wall beside the door, Wanda clenched around nothing at the force of Y/N. Her chest rising rapidly as she looked at herself in the mirror. This obsession can be the best thing or it can completely ruin the two of them, but she knows one things. She will be the first one to cum on Y/N's fingers, face and strap. She will be the first and the last if she has anything to do about it.
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stellamancer · 1 month
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obligatory (satoru gojo x reader)
notes: haha. the valentine's fic. it's funny i still have to post halloween fic. maybe i'll finish this week since i'm off work. uh anyway, for those who say my posts, i'm kind of hesitant to post this for two reasons: 1) it's removed from context— like you can still get a feel of what is going on, but there's no explanation as for why and 2) due to reason 1 it's tonally different than usual, at least according to my beta reader. my eternal gratitude goes to @momodita who helped me workshop this fic and continues to demand i write more gojo fics despite denying being a gojo fucker.
contains: implied f!reader (no pronouns), the return of gojo's pov (a little less whacky this time lmao), jealous gojo (because those who know me know i can't get enough), light angst or whatever the hell is going on there. additionally, for those who don't know giri choco is chocolate you give out of obligation to your coworkers and honmei choco is chocolate you give to someone you have romantic feelings for. part of the infinite loop verse.
wc: 1.8k
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“Here you go.”
Satoru graciously accepts Shoko’s offering: a thin, delicately wrapped box of Valentine’s Day chocolate. Naturally, it's giri choco; Satoru is well aware that Shoko would be caught dead before even thinking about giving Satoru honmei choco. That said, it looks like she's given more thought to her gift this year— the last few years she's just handed him a gourmet chocolate bar from some high end chocolatier. Actually, the last time she'd given him something wrapped up like this was…
“There better not be any liquor in this,” Satoru says in a petulant tone reminiscent of his high school days.
Shoko merely laughs. “As if I'd waste something like that on you.”
There's no way she’s forgotten how sick Satoru got the one time she did give him liquor filled chocolates. Not only had it made him sick to his stomach, it'd given him the worst headache of his entire life. If it were up to Satoru, liquor filled chocolates wouldn't even exist. “Welllll, thanks for the chocolate. I'll be sure to get you something good next month.”
Shoko gives him a relaxed smile. “Looking forward to it, Gojo.”
Knowing Shoko, she'll want liquor as usual. Maybe the same bottle of shochu that he got last year? She liked that, but then again, the same gift twice would be boring and Satoru is not about that. Whatever it is will be a little pricey, but Satoru doesn't mind it one bit— anything for one of his oldest friends.
Having given Satoru her yearly offering of chocolate, Shoko shoos him away so she can actually get to work. Satoru considers ambling around for another hour or two, but Ijichi will probably have a heart attack if he delays his mission briefing any longer. The sooner he does it the better, he guesses. Satoru starts sauntering toward the assistant managers’ office to find Ijichi, pulling at the ribbon on the box he received from Shoko as he goes. Inside are two rows of perfectly round chocolate truffles and Satoru picks one at random and pops it into his mouth. It's filled with a sweet raspberry cream that practically melts on his tongue. Shoko really went all out this year, but no matter how good these are they'd never match up to anything homemade.
Though, when he thinks about it, Satoru supposes he won't be getting anything like that this year.
When he gets to the assistant managers’ office he easily finds Ijichi, who, for once, is not bent over a mountain of paperwork, and with him is—
You.
Handing Ijichi a box of chocolates.
For some reason, Satoru suddenly feels very, very annoyed.
“Well, well, well,” he says, the volume of his voice louder than intended, but he doesn't care. “What do we have here?”
Ijichi whirls around and lets out a squeak, his face red as can be. He starts to blubber and it almost feels like Satoru's caught him in the middle of something more illicit than receiving chocolates. If Satoru weren't feeling so annoyed, he'd find the whole sight rather funny.
You, on the other hand, are far calmer, indifferent even, as a slight frown mars your features. Something about it makes Satoru's blood burn hot.
“Did I just interrupt a heartfelt love confession?” Satoru asks dryly and Ijichi starts to freak out even more, and while Satoru notices the slightest twitch of your eye, you remain impassive.
“I hope you like the chocolates,” you tell Ijichi, outright ignoring Satoru and somehow that makes Satoru's blood run even hotter. “I kept in mind what you said about last year's so they're not as sweet.”
“Thank you!” Ijichi squeals and you give the man a sympathetic smile before you head toward the door where Satoru's standing. He knows he's blocking the way, but he doesn't move.
Will you say something to him?
You don't.
Instead, you keep your head down and squeeze past him. Or try to. You brush against his side and Satoru doesn't miss the way your body jolts when you make physical contact with him. But it only lasts a second, and when that second ends, Satoru tries to ignore the feeling of bitterness rapidly spreading throughout his chest.
He means to say something, anything to you, but the words get caught in his throat.
By the time they free themselves, you're already gone.
Satoru sighs and saunters over to Ijichi, who's been taking deep breaths to calm down after Satoru's little bout of teasing. He leans against one of the desks and crosses his arms. “So, you had a mission for me?”
“Right! Yes!” Ijichi squeaks again and takes a deep breath before he starts to explain. Satoru only half listens to the briefing, his attention more focused on the little box sitting on Ijichi’s desk. The mere sight of it spurs a complicated set of feelings. He doesn't understand. You've been giving Ijichi chocolates every Valentine's ever since you moved to Tokyo and it's never bothered him before so why now?
“Um, Gojo?”
“What?” Satoru almost snaps.
Ijichi doesn't answer right away, instead he clears his throat and then says. “It's giri choco.”
Satoru scowls. Of course it is. It's not like you'd give Ijichi honmei choco. You don't see him like that. “I know that.”
Ijichi swallows thickly. Nervously. “Just making sure.”
Then he falls silent, the air between them now terribly awkward.
“...do you want some?” Ijichi asks.
“It's your chocolate.”
“I don't mind sharing,” Ijichi says, reaching over and opening the box to reveal your homemade chocolates. They're nowhere near as perfectly round as the ones Shoko bought for Satoru, but he can tell you put effort into making sure they looked presentable. “Help yourself.”
Even Satoru isn't terrible enough to steal an entire box of chocolates meant for another man, but he does grab the nicest looking one and tosses it into his mouth.
It's bitter; a mix of dark chocolate and black coffee that's not only completely unpalatable to Satoru, but disturbingly reminiscent of the bitter feeling that's now threatening to eat him whole. He almost wants to spit it out.
But he doesn't.
Satoru swallows it all.
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The mission is uneventful, absurdly easy even, though Satoru took a little longer than he needed to by toying with the curses a little prior to exorcising them. Some would consider it a touch cruel, but Satoru doesn't care. Anything to rid himself of that pesky feeling from earlier.
If it were up to him, he would have headed straight home afterwards, but Yaga had asked him to come back and do some paperwork. Satoru had tried to reason with him, tell him he'd just do it tomorrow but the principal was insistent.
Satoru trudges to his office and throws open the door. Inside, someone lets out a surprised yelp.
It’s you.
Again.
Both you and Satoru stare at each other in surprise. Given that you've been avoiding both him and this entire corridor like the plague for the past two months, you're the last person he’d expect to find in his office, hovering over his desk. And yet…
You look away from Satoru, your expression awkward. This isn't like your encounter in the assistant manager's office earlier; you can't just walk out of his office without an explanation of why you're there.
Well, you can try, but it's not like Satoru will let you.
“Weren’t you supposed to be out on an assignment?” you finally ask. Satoru thinks you mean to sound annoyed, but your tone is watered down.
“I was, but it was so easy I could have done it blindfolded.”
Normally, you'd just roll your eyes or snap back about how he's a show off or his jokes are shit, but you remain quiet. He shouldn't be surprised, but it still makes him feel weird. Almost sad. Almost empty.
“Principal Yaga asked me to leave some paperwork on your desk,” you say, sounding uncharacteristically meek.
Satoru frowns a little. Yaga, huh? He never pegged him as a meddler. Satoru approaches the desk to look at the paperwork in question; he grimaces— it's a whole freaking stack.
You start to shuffle away from Satoru and toward the door as Satoru flips through all the papers. “Anyway, if you'll excuse me—”
“Wait a sec.” Satoru says and you glance back at him in confusion. There's something peeking out from under the stack of papers. Satoru gingerly fishes it out, revealing a familiar looking box. He holds it up and adds, “Did you leave this too?”
A myriad of varying emotions flashes across your face before you settle on an awkward sort of embarrassment. “I… did.”
It's weird. Satoru didn't expect you to be so straightforward given that under normal circumstances you always choose to be as obstinate as possible. Which Satoru doesn't mind in the slightest; it makes things exciting. There are few things more fun than prying the truth out of you with whatever means necessary. Answering him so readily like this… almost feels wrong.
“I accidentally made too much,” you explain.
Satoru stares at you. It’s not an excuse, not a lie. Honestly, adjusting the amounts to account for one less person probably slipped your mind until it was too late. You could have done anything with the extra chocolate, given more to each person, eaten it for yourself, but instead…
You still chose to give it to him.
Satoru tries to ignore the strange feeling stirring in his chest.
“Anyway, eat it if you want, toss it if you don’t,” you add, almost hurriedly as you move closer to the door. You give a quick bow to excuse yourself and before Satoru can say anything else, you run off.
His eyes remain glued to the empty doorway where you were just standing for a second before looking back at the box of chocolates you left for him. Carefully, he unties the ribbon and pulls off the lid. Just like Ijichi’s chocolates, the ones in his box aren’t perfect, but something about them looks nicer than the ones Ijichi got. Satoru wonders if you consciously put in a little more effort when you’d realized you had extra. The thought makes him chuckle a little.
He delicately plucks one from the box and pops it into his mouth. It’s sweet, infused with a hint of strawberry and vanilla that makes Satoru crave even more. As soon as he’s done with the first he shoves another into his mouth, and then another. With each chocolate he eats, the painful feeling in his chest grows, but he ignores it.
Before he knows it, the chocolates are all gone. Satoru licks his lips, hoping for one last taste of that strawberry vanilla sweetness only to find nothing. All he has left is the empty box and an aching heart.
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if you read this whole thing, thank you and i hope you enjoyed it.
also yes, shoko got chocolates (tomo choco) too. they were similar to ijichi's, but with liquor instead of coffee.
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https-furina · 7 months
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✎ when you love someone. ft. lyney x fem!reader content: heavy angst, death/murder, fontaine archon quest spoilers, detail to injury, ooc lyney while i’m practising. not proofread. w.c. tba.
there's a melancholic harmony that comes with dating that infamous, ash blond magician who's name is uttered from every fontainian's mouth across the country. 'he's miraculous!' they exclaim, eyes glittering like stars as they leave the opera epiclese, grins wide on their faces. he truly is, you think to yourself as you follow the crowds out on some evenings after witnessing your boyfriend's abilities for the nth time. yet you also know better than this. the lies intertwined between soft kisses shared in the moonlight and the forced smiles he'll throw in anyone's direction.
lyney knows better too when he fumbles for his house key, a gloved hand fishing into his pockets to pull out the cold metal. a prospect he never thought he'd grasp when he devoted himself to the orphanage beside his sister, starved and defensive. there's almost a pained smile on his face when he calls out to you that he's home. at this hour of the night, the court of fontaine is a quiet city, especially in this quarter. the night life clings to the hotels that bustle with activity, drinks and other numerous acts that people indulge themselves in to drown their pains out - but he knows that the house he'd made a home with you was never this quiet.
it's a strange thought to him that you'd ever go to bed without waiting up for him first - that was your favourite routine, curled up on the couch with a plate of fresh conch madeleines you'd baked earlier in the day. a crocheted blanket would be draped over your bare legs, one of lyney's own white dress shirts hanging flimsily from your frame with the buttons done up. he would grin at the imagery if only it wasn't for the slow, tense anxiety creeping up his spine, leaving a trail of hairs standing on edge at the silence you'd left him with.
"ma chérie?" he calls out again, that sweet nickname rolls from his tongue like it has a thousand times before since you started dating. it's familiar, it tastes warm and like your homemade cooking you'll bring to him before his shows - a comfort he'll cherish no matter how much his acts crumble him.
you knew months into speaking with lyney that he worked for the fatui behind that whimsical act of a magician. you remember that tight feeling that choked your lungs for breath, you remember the vivid way the corners of your vision darkened and his words echoed in your head. he looked so pitiful, his brows knit together and a beautiful glitter to his lilac eyes when he's on the brink of tears from your lack of response.
growing up, you recall the stories your parents and elders had spat in distaste regarding the fatui - snezhnayan scum, good-for-nothings, troublemakers that cause nought but harm wherever they go. you truly believed that lyney was none of these, how could he be? he'd swooned you so lovingly after one of his shows on a starry night, having caught your eyes in his audience. he claims it was love at first sight, the cheesy phrase making you giggle whenever he'd reference it. he'd whispered sweet nothings in your ear the first night you'd shared a bed together, fingers dusting down your body in feather light touches like he considered you porcelain.
surely these were things that proved his innocence? that proved the truth in his words when he first mumbled 'i love you' against your soft lips midway through a kiss? you gave him his chance and lyney was determined to not let his affairs as a fatui member ruin what he had with you. things were perfect for the upcoming year, even if that smile he flashed to anyone who looked in his direction was so fake that you could almost grimace.
it is not lyney that anyone should have doubted the faithfulness of - the safety that his arms brought you. it is the fatui, the harbingers, the organisation that tears lives apart for their personal gains. it's the promises to protect their members' families and loved ones that fall on deaf ears yet feed their members' minds with relief and keeps that every faltering loyalty in check. they have them wrapped around gloved fingers that are ready to snap at any moment.
lyney kicks off his boots by the front door, twirling his hat as he hangs it next to your coat. in his younger years, he'd debated what the meaning of love was. he'd thought over the concept of a home - of four walls that were safe and permanent. every time something took a wrong turn in his life, he considered if he was capable of being loved, perhaps if he was even capable of loving too. if there was one thing he was certain from his time with you, it was that you'd proved him wrong.
his legs carry him tiredly up the staircase, his footsteps light as he steps over a particular floorboard he has memorised that creaks - just in case you'd truly gone to sleep without him tonight. the silence is deafening, he can't even hear the faint sounds of your breathing from your shared bedroom where the door is cracked open and the moonlight floods out like a liquid river. he glimpses red through the crack and his brow furrows in concern, picking up the pace of his steps.
the world you'd built with lyney crashes down the moment his hand - free of its glove - pushes the bedroom door further open and his eyes fall onto your body. you're limp on the floor, laid on the soft, fur rug you'd begged lyney to buy when you were furnishing your first home together. he still vividly remembers the beam you gave him when he caved and agreed. there's a pool of blood around you, drenching that cream fur and seeping into the floorboards beneath you. it's oxidising, darkening - how long had you been here like this?
lyney falls to his knees beside you, your blood soaking through his stockings and wetting his skin but he shrugs the uncomfortable feeling away when his hands push you onto your back, your head rolling to the side limply. your eyes are white, rolled back but there's a look of fear written across your face and lyney's eyes begin to sting with the idea that you'd been scared in your final moments; no, he refuses to accept that you're dead. you're simply injured, passed out - he'll get you to a doctor and he'll never let you out of his sight again.
but the waterfall of red that decorates your neck and stains his white shirt he knew you'd be wearing tell him otherwise. his hands clasp at your cheeks, cupping the cold skin as his thumbs desperately rub at you in hopes that you'll come to, smiling and reassuring him. he blinks the tears in his eyes away but all they do is fall down his pale cheeks in precious streams of emotion when he doesn't wake up. he doesn't open his eyes again to see sunlight streaming through the light fabric of your bedroom curtains. he doesn't hear his favourite laugh in the whole of teyvat when you notice he's woke up. the silent atmosphere is still very much present, tense and ready to be sliced with a knife.
the only sounds are lyney's jagged breaths, desperate as he starts to hyperventilate to get air into his lungs. he presses his ear to your chest, not caring if his blond locks fall into your blood as he frantically searches for your pulse, a sign of life. there is not even a shallow breath that falls from your chapped lips.
you had taught lyney many things in the time you'd devoted at his side, things that the fatui could never teach him. you taught him how it feels when you love someone but as he releases a pained cry into the night, you'd also taught him the anguish that comes from the decision of trusting the fatui the way he had before.
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© https-heizou 2023.
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