it's you that i'd lie with. - c.yj
pairing: choi yeonjun x gn reader | genre / tropes: angst, apocalypse au (no literally), the end of the world but make it slice of life, non-idol au, best friends to lovers, last-minute getting together (and i really mean last minute!!) | word count: 923 | warnings: implied death, natural disasters, mentioned existential crises, kissing, brief food mentions
part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)
prompt - LAST: believing it to be their last chance to confess their feelings for the receiver, the sender tells them that they love them. (requested by @beomnoullitheorem - "I don't mind any kind of ending as I love both happy and sad endings, so I'm leaving it all upto you and I'm gonna love any of your work be it having any kind of ending!")
author's notes: hi noulli! unfortunately i don't have a copy of the stuff we talked abt for this prompt since i answered your asks privately, but i tried to remember what we said as best as i can! also i was in a very "wow i wanna kiss him sooooo bad" mood when i wrote this so uh. yeah sldkfskldjf. also the title is from "as the world caves in" by matt maltese!
“do you really think the world will end today, y/n? like what the reporters said?”
you cast a glance up at the cloudless sky, its color a gradient of deep blue to pale yellow. meteor showers fall constantly like rain made of light. “well... if it isn’t ending, it’s putting on a hell of a show.”
yeonjun lets out a soft giggle and pulls you closer in his arms. you sigh happily and rest your head on his chest; his heartbeat is a bit faster than usual, though it is his last day on earth after all. you’ve always been touchy-feely with your best friend, but you’ve never been this close.
as soon as the news reports announced the end of the world a few weeks ago, the two of you instantly knew that you wanted to spend your last day here, at the open-air rooftop restaurant where you first met. you spent the next few weeks saying goodbye to your friends and family, checking a few things off your bucket list, and just... making peace with your life. today you and yeonjun claimed a table overlooking the deserted city below, though there wasn’t any competition anyway 一 the cooks and waitstaff had abandoned the place to spend their last day with their loved ones.
you lift your head up from yeonjun’s embrace to take in one last look at the sky, beautiful yet terrifying, a canvas of light and shadow. you wonder what everyone else is doing: maybe they too are looking at the sky, or maybe they can’t see it at all from the makeshift underground shelters they’ve gone to. maybe some are watching it alone, maybe others are watching it with a loved one, just like you.
just then you feel soft lips on the crown of your head, and you look up to see yeonjun pulling away from his brief kiss. he’s gazing at you with those warm brown eyes, and you can’t help the heat spreading across your cheeks.
“you’re quiet,” he says.
“so are you, jjunie.”
��it’s just... a lot.”
“i know.”
perhaps your brain is making you see things because this is the last time you’ll ever see him, but this is the most beautiful yeonjun has ever looked. strands of black hair fall over his eyes, and as you lift a hand to brush them aside you feel an ache in your heart.
“i was supposed to take you here again for your birthday, y’know,” he says with a small smile.
“really? you didn’t think i’d be sick of it here?”
“nah, you love it here. you’re always ordering their cheesecake.”
you laugh. “i mean, no one makes it like they d一”
just then the earth begins to shake and the whole building sways. yeonjun grabs onto you as you’re both thrown onto the ground. you bury your head in your friend’s chest and grip onto his hoodie; his own grip around your waist tightens and he curls around you. the table topples and nearly lands on your head, only for yeonjun to grab you and roll you away from the spot.
the ground beneath you rumbles, and you can hear the crashing of plates and bottles from the restaurant kitchen. tables and chairs are knocked over. you screw your eyes shut, yet the world doesn’t stop spinning...
and then an alarm starts blaring in the distance, and it’s over as soon as it started. you remain lying on the floor clinging to yeonjun, your knuckles trembling from your grip on his hoodie. he doesn’t move either, holding on to you so tightly as if you might slip away if he let go.
then you feel it again 一 that feather-light kiss on the crown of your head, lingering for longer this time. then another one, further down on your forehead. yeonjun pulls away to look at you, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, and the ache in your heart gnaws at you even more.
“y/n, i...”
words leave him and the next thing you know, his lips are on yours. he tastes as sweet as you’ve imagined, and you wrap your arms around him to kiss him deeper. the world is spinning again, but for a completely different reason 一 with your body flush against his and his mouth moving roughly against yours, you feel as if every piece of you has been set alight.
you let out a sigh against his lips as he breaks away. he pants slightly, still holding you close, his eyes wide.
“i love you.”
yeonjun is still breathless when he says it. had he said it on any other day, your mind would be full of questions: how long? since when? why are you telling me only now? what happens to us next?
but you don’t have time for questions. instead you lean towards him, meeting those beautiful eyes of his, and whisper, “i love you too.”
you leave a gentle peck on his lips, then another, then it’s his turn to kiss you back. next thing you know his hands are tangled in your hair and you melt into him completely, this new kiss slower than the first yet more desperate. in your last moments you’re going to love him the way you should have when you still had time.
neither of you notice the way the sky darkens to a complete black. the ground shakes again and you hold on to each other.
his warmth is the last thing you ever feel.
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the other woman * mv1
everything falls into place in your mind when max fails to show up for you at the one event you desperately wanted him to be at
pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader
warnings: cheating, jake gyllenhaal type behaviour
notes: hi i know i promised this on xmas eve and then i failed to deliver mY BAD BABY GIRLS! i am trying my best but then again i did get a fever and all but its ok lfg and NO I WILL NOT BE WRITING A PART TWOOOOO
(f1 masterlist)
your eyes watch your front door, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you try to hold yourself back from crying. there's a sob bubbling from the deepest part of your gut as you glance at the clock one more time.
he's late.
but one can also say that he's simply not coming. did he lie when he told you that he would make sure he showed up for you this time? or did he just simply forget about you again?
your eyes have been staring at that door for the better part of the last hour or so since guests started arriving for the party you'd thrown.
a party you'd thrown, admittedly, just to get his attention. you were never one to make a big deal of your birthday anyway, but he made you think otherwise. because he promised you that he would be here no matter what happened. it's stupider that he was the one that encouraged you to throw a party today.
only for him not to show up?
this is the one time you needed him to so desperately show up for you. but here you are, looking like a fool waiting for somebody who wouldn't come; for somebody who didn't even make you a first choice.
because you know that when if push comes to shove, he would still pick her. max would always pick kelly and penelope over you, no matter how much he tells you that he loves you. no matter how many times you endured him telling you that he no longer wants to be with her.
you know better than to be his little secret. your parents had not raised you to be a potential homewrecker, but are you really being one if he's the one that keeps coming back to you?
you've tried staying away, and you've attempted to cut all sorts of contact with him, but he eventually crawls right back to you a couple of weeks later claiming that he will break up with kelly soon.
you've even bought a new dress for the occasion; in max's favourite colour and a cut that you knew he would say you look amazing in.
only for him to bail on you. you'd even taken the effort to sit for an hour to do your makeup and hair. for nothing, essentially.
fast forward a couple of hours of holding back tears and forcing smiles, you're hunched over the couch, picking up empty beer cans and tears streaming down your face. at the end of the day, you're left alone in your apartment with a heavy heart and the eerie silence the room can only offer you.
you watch the last car from your guests drive away. you sigh and throw yourself on the couch, finally letting the tears fall from your eyes. you had no idea it was so difficult to pretend like you're okay until today.
it's totally different when it's got something to do with the heart, it seems. you were totally banking on the fact that he would be here today, at least today. just today. because it's your birthday.
it's your day.
a knock on the door sits you right up, hands darting up to wipe the tears that smudged your makeup. "give me a second!"
"it's just me."
the anger suddenly hits you. so he is available to travel out to come and see you. just not a couple of hours prior when everybody else was here? just not at the time when you actually wanted him to be here?
you stomp your way over to the door and swing the door open and a string of apologies quickly spill from his mouth. you immediately notice the wrapped present in his hand and the bouquet of flowers.
"i'm sorry, i got held up at home," max apologises with a frown. "p had a fever and she wouldn't go to bed unless i tucked her in. i'm sorry, i know i'm late."
you sigh, rolling your eyes. "you're not just late," you scowl, "you missed the party entirely, max."
"oh," he slumps his shoulders, "i was wondering why it was so quiet when i was walking up."
you shake your head and walk further into your apartment. "max, just go home. you don't have a reason to be here."
"what do you mean? it's your birthday," he says gently, following you in. he closes the door behind him and follows you into your living room. "is there still cake? maybe you can blow the candles with me before the day ends? i even got you a present."
"no, i let people take home pieces of the cake," you say softly, returning to your agenda of cleaning your home from the traces of the party your friends left. "what am i going to do with cake that i don't even eat?"
"you bought chocolate cake on your birthday? you don't even like chocolate," he points out softly. "nevermind that, i got you a present!"
"i don't give a fuck about your stupid present, max!" you burst, standing up and turning to finally face him. "i didn't ask for a fucking present! i asked you for one thing and you couldn't even do that!"
he stares at you, dumbfounded with his lips parted in shock at your outburst. you're not typically one to have outbursts, which is the one thing he claims he finds very refreshing about you. you're calm and collected most of the time, and you assess the situation before picking fights. "p was sick. what did you want me to do?"
"you're telling me you're a sole parent to this little girl?" you ask. "kelly couldn't have tucked her in so you could show up to the party that you asked me to throw? on my birthday? max, you had one job and it was to show up for me tonight! i waited for you all night!"
he seems to have lost all ability to speak because he just pulls out a chair from your dining table and takes a seat. "i'm sorry. you're right, i should have been here."
"seriously, max! are you actually ever going to leave them or do you just lie straight through your teeth whenever you tell me that?" she scolds him, throwing her arms in the air. "i'm not stupid, max! this has gone on long enough!"
"i am, and i will!" he answers you, running his hands through his hair. "i just need more time. there's a child involved, i really hope you understand. i can't just leave."
"you say that every single time! it's been seven months!" you cry. "you've made me the other woman for seven long months! am i supposed to just sit here and take that? just because i love you?"
"i do love you! but it's complicated, okay? i can't just leave p like this!"
you clench your jaw. how many times have you heard that excuse in the past year? and how many more times will you be fooled by the sweetness in his voice and his glistening blue eyes? "max, i think you should go. lose my number, and forget that i ever existed. i can't do this anymore."
his head snaps up to you. he quickly walks over to you, throwing his arms around you from behind. "wait, don't say that. please, i promise. i'll leave in the next month. don't leave me. i really don't love her anymore."
"i'm so tired of the lies, max," you sigh, desperately tearing his arms away from your body. you take a step back and turn to him. "you will always choose them over me. it doesn't matter how much you love me, max. you're too attached to them to leave."
"listen to me, okay? i will leave them. and then we can be happy together like we talked about all those nights we spent together," max coos, putting his hands on your shoulder. he bends down slightly to look into your eyes. "please, just give me one last chance - more time. i just need time. i will let p down easily and i'll leave kelly. please."
"i don't know how many more times you think you can fool me with that lie, max!" you frown, shoving him back. "just leave! leave me alone! i refuse to let you make me look like an idiot! i'm better than this."
"i thought you said you understood my predicament. with p in the picture..."
"yeah, for seven long months. do you know how many days that is? how many hours i'd spend with you wondering when you'd finally take me off the backseat and make me your own officially?" you throw your head back and a dry laugh passes your lips. "max, just leave. don't call me again."
"you don't really mean that."
"i do this time," you say firmly, turning around to face him.
you circle around him and walk over to your front door, pulling it open and gesturing towards the hallway. "i'm done. take your flowers and your stupid present and leave."
he does what you say, hesitantly. he keeps his eyes on you, hoping that you will immediately change your mind. he travelled this far to get to you, hoping that you would somehow forgive him for missing your birthday party.
but you're right, now that he's had a couple of seconds to think about it. in the past seven months, he's told you that he'd up and leave kelly and penelope so he can finally be with you openly. it's much harder to keep you in the shadows when everyone's got eyes on him all the time.
perhaps it's the attachment to penelope that he can't get himself to pack his things and call it a day. he genuinely does love that kid. and his girlfriend has her good days - not all make him want to pull at his hair in frustration anymore.
but he also really does love you. if there hadn't been a loveable child in the picture, one that's grown very attached to him, he would have been able to walk away months ago. it could've been that easy.
"just hear me out," max says, stopping right by the door and giving you one last pleading look. "don't leave. not like this. we haven't even had a real fighting chance."
"that's because of you. not me," you answer dryly, looking up at him. "just go. i can't keep having this conversation with you."
"please."
"i gave you too many chances to make this right," you sigh, putting a gentle hand on his back to guide him out the door. you press your lips together as a lump forms in your throat. you're more shocked that you hadn't fully started bawling moments ago. "i should have done this a long time ago."
"i'm sorry."
"i'm sure you are. too little too late." then you close the door on him and whatever could have been with max.
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Dissimulation
>Yan! Mafia! Childe x Fem! Student! Reader (Modern au)
>Word Count: 11.6k words (slow burn)
>a/n: my offering for best boy's birthday
Warnings: coercion, Childe doesn’t know how to flirt, blood is finger licking good, panic attack
An unwelcome customer turned into an unwelcome acquaintance has been terrorising your life starting from your minimum wage job. Perhaps your flight back home is your only way out.
Continuation
Patience is a sign of virtue. Or at least that’s what your mother taught you when you were growing up. No, it’s all just some elaborate scheme for the notorious members of society to make others more docile and submissive to them.
Regardless, you don’t say anything, tired already as it is and just wait for the month to be over so that you can get your pay and go back home.
Even if he seems to like you, you would rather not push your luck. Despite only being in this city as a student, you’ve picked up that it’s best not to engage with the local mafia members, even if they seem friendly. Just keep your head down and return the greeting if given one. If one of them comes to your shop, treat them as a regular patron, and if a fight breaks out somewhere with one of them, do not take sides. Simply leave as quietly as you can.
Unfortunately, you have no such choice or opportunity to keep contact to a minimum. That is why you opted to bide your time and sneak out as quickly as you can and never opt for minimum wage jobs again. Maybe you could get a paid internship next time. You’ll probably meet the course requirements.
The dreaded convenience store you are currently walking to is situated a ten minute walk away from your campus dorms. Having to stay there and beep items all day was its own form of punishment as it was, but with the crowd that had recently started to come in these last few months, it started to seem more like a form of purgatory.
You still remember the lecture your friend had given you on how to act normal around the mafia community. The fact that they recently got active in this neighbourhood is simply an added bonus. Honestly, you’ve been counting the days when your incarceration will end with your flight. You just want to go home and hug your cats first, family members second.
The bell chimes as you walk inside, and you sigh when you see the mess of ginger hair and a dangling red earring already waiting for you. At least this time his back is turned while he scrolls his phone even if he is sitting near the register.
About that, where’s the manager? He should be at the register right now since your shift just started.
“You’re late,” the dreaded man scrolling his phone points out, eyes not leaving the phone screen.
Keeping your friend’s advice in mind, you decide to reply before twisting the knob to the employee room. “Sorry. I was doing laundry.” A lie but you aren’t going to tell him that you got distracted watching cat videos.
No greetings were exchanged and he didn’t even look up at you. Strange, but it’s best to only reply when talked to. Getting too friendly might backfire.
Still, you decide to say something just for good measure.
“Is the manager in today?” you ask, eyes on him while your hand remains on the knob.
All you receive in response is a shrug.
Thus, you enter the employee room, and there you have it! Mister manager sits on the desk in all his white polo shirt glory.
The door hinges squeak loudly behind you when you close the door. Stepping to the desk, his head slowly rises to look at you when you greet him, but he doesn’t respond. After you’ve slipped on the employee uniform jacket and pinned your nametag, he speaks.
“I may have made a mistake.”
That causes you to frown. “What happened?”
“The guy outside… I… I didn’t realise he’s a high ranking member. I may have asked him to leave because he’s been here for half an hour already and… well…”
“Well, what?”
He shakes his head. “Well, he sort of jokingly said that the building belongs to his division and that the store could close if he wanted it to.”
“...”
“Look. I know you’re a student, so I promise I’ll pay you somehow, but please! He listens to you, right? Try to appease him!”
You groan. “I’m sure he meant it as a joke.”
“Please!”
“Alright alright. I’ll… try.”
Honestly, you don’t know what you’re going to do. He’s a higher ranking member, you know that much, but why he even bothers to be so friendly and chatty with you is out of your scope of understanding. At least now those tough looking ones that drop by in the evening don’t test your patience anymore.
Cautiously, you open the employees room door and head back outside. There’s still no one in the store, but you know that afternoon rush hour is about to start. With you on the register seat, the dreaded man who will stay with you on another shift turns his body to face you, phone immediately slipping into his pocket.
“So,” he drawls, “was the manager inside?”
You put your phone on the little shelf underneath the cash drawer. “Yes. He was inside.”
“Was he mad?”
“Um no.” You look at him questioningly, brow raising when he just smiles. “Should he be?”
“Who knows?”
“Right…”
Silence ensues and you briefly ask yourself why he’s less chatty today. You can’t believe that it’s concerning you. Sure, he’s a very dangerous person if he’s so young and in the mafia of all things, but dangerous people are downright terrifying if pissed. At least you’re not the one at fault. Besides, three more weeks and it will be time for your flight.
You just hope you make it.
“Something on your mind?”
He’s looking at you now, cheek resting in his palm. He’s even gotten closer, next to you to be precise. You don’t think you heard him get closer.
Nervously, you give a little laugh. “It’s nothing.”
“Are you sure?” Dull blue eyes bore into yours, gently forcing you to answer truthfully. The lack of vitality in them unnerves you but that is precisely what compels you to answer.
“Well… the manager said that you might get the store to close…”
“That? I didn’t think he’d tell you. Anyway, I was messing around,” he smiles. “You’re a student, so it would be unfair to you to suffer in consequence to him.”
The statement doesn’t make you feel any better. “Ah, you’re too kind sir Tartaglia.”
Like before, the way you addressed him makes him frown. “Just call me Childe. Tartaglia is only for my men. Though… if you would prefer…” he leans in, hand that was previously holding his face now gripping the edge of the table as he whispers dangerously close to your ear, “I’d gladly tell you my birth name.”
He backed away again, a smile on his face. “And I know you wouldn’t tell anyone haha.”
How do you even reply to that?
Scratch that, should you even reply to that?
He’s looking at you again, that smile that doesn’t reach his eyes gracing his lips and impatience oozing from his face. You sense that he’s waiting for an answer so you try your best to comply.
“Understood... Childe.”
The name feels foreign on your tongue, and you blame the unfamiliarity on the nervousness that comes with being near him. Thankfully your answer seemed to appease him and he happily nodded.
Okay, one problem solved. You’ll get your minimum wage salary. Another problem. You’ll have to endure the awkwardness because you don’t have it in you to call him out.
As if on cue, your employer exits the employee room and heads for the exit without even looking at you. The fast walking didn’t make his exit any graceful, but it did make it seem important with how Childe eyed his movements.
Silence settles again as you blankly stare at the empty store in front of you. Regrettably, you’re a little worried about what might happen when you’ll be back after summer vacation. You never told him that you’re leaving for home and the white polo dunce of a manager has been sworn to secrecy about it after he flat out told Childe which institution you study at right in front of you.
Protecting your personal details is your job, so you’ve taken it into your own hands. It isn’t wise to tell a mafia member who obviously pines to be more than just acquaintances about your personal life and details. Thus, you will slip away to home on a weekend flight.
What happens after you’re back is something you didn’t consider.
Well, almost two months would have passed by then. Surely he wouldn’t care anymore… right?
You hope he doesn’t. Perhaps it would be best to avoid this neighbourhood. Maybe even look into school transfers to be safe.
“Something’s on your mind again.”
His voice cuts through the air like a dart and lodges into your head. Is it so wrong to simply want some peace? No wait. Peace is bad. If he's quiet then that’s bad. You’ll have to humour him.
Thus, you take a deep breath. Act normal, you tell yourself. You aren’t the criminal here. You’re a humble student trying to earn some money. Relax.
“Well,” you drawl, “I’m just spacing out.”
You don’t even look at him, eyes still fixed on the empty store.
“You must be thinking about something.”
Grumbling, you internally curse your luck. Patience is running out and you don’t know how long you can remain civil with him breathing down your neck like this. Maybe he had a bad day and that’s why he’s more inquisitive than chatty.
“Nothing,” you sigh. “I’m not thinking about anything. Just waiting for rush hour to start so that my shift can go by quickly and I can go home and sleep.”
“Hm.” He’s closer now, and you can see him in the corner of your eye. “So you’re tired of this job?”
“Tired of the people that come here actually. Most of them are so shady it’s unreal.” Now that that’s said, you hope he doesn’t realise that the jab is actually at him.
“I realise that. I saw what kind of crooks used to come here. They mostly thought they could intimidate the people working here, but all that’s in the past now.”
Well, you do owe him the credit of straightening them out. If it wasn’t for Childe, you’d still have to endure taunts from those weirdos about how they can take anything from the store and you can’t do anything about it. Regardless, you can’t be certain whether his presence is actually good or bad.
“Anyway,” he’s behind you now, hands suddenly on your shoulders, “you’re not from here, right? Any plans to visit home for the summer?”
Well… shit.
How do you go about this…
You never told him that you’re not from this city, so that can only mean that white shirt dunce did. Great.
“I’m not sure,” you reply. Would it be wise to ask him how much he knows? Childe does seem to be friendly in all the weeks you’ve known him. Ah. You’ll take that chance. Slowly turning around in your chair, his hands remove themselves from your shoulders when you face him. “Did my manager tell you anything?”
Now you’re looking into his eyes, but he doesn’t seem affected at all.
“I asked him about it. He told me that you might go home for the summer if you can afford the ticket.”
Okay so maybe the manager saved you a little there, but you still need to answer him. So, you settle with going with what he said.
Nodding, you look at Childe standing in front of you again. “I'm planning to decide by the end of this month. If I do go home, I'll put in a one week notice. Hopefully it isn't a problem."
He smiles. "Don't worry. It won't be."
You can't tell if he's comforting you or making notes to assist you. Either way, he doesn't know about your flight. Figuring out how to get him off your back when you come back for the next semester will be for when you're home.
"Anyway," Childe says, breaking the silence, "are you doing anything after your shift?"
Where did that come from?
Tilting your head a little, you act innocent in hopes he gets the hint. "Depends on what I'm asked. I do have some pending work. Why? Do you need me for something?"
"No. Just asking. What about tomorrow?"
"I'm not sure about tomorrow yet…"
Childe chuckles. "Then how about you make a reservation for the evening, with me?"
"W-why?"
"I just wanted to take you out for dinner. Is that alright?"
Did… did you just get asked out on a date?
Seeing your confusion, Childe chuckles again. “I promise I’m not going to kidnap you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll just take you out, treat you to dinner, and drop you home. No shady stuff.” He raises his hands in mock surrender, tongue teasingly peeking out.
You suppose there’s no way out of this, but still try nonetheless. “What if something important comes up? Would it be okay to… cancel…?”
His hands go back to his hips. “Important? What could be more important?”
“Um, my summer courses? I still get assignments for those…” You hope that doesn’t offend him, but judging from his face he looks more confused than angry.
Childe clicks his tongue, a scolding look on his face. “You can’t get an assignment with a same day submission date, so that’s out of the question. But hearing your response, it’s alright if you’d rather not go.” He sits back down, arms crossed. “I would prefer it if you'd be honest with me. Prevaricating with lies is more than just annoying, you know.”
In the silence of the store, you can feel your heart beating loudly in your ears, the thump a scolding sound for your stupidity. If he’s angry with you, who knows what could happen. “No! Not at all. That’s not what I meant.” Your patience is still being tested but at this very moment you’re more fearful. “I’m just worried because those courses are counted in my cumulative GPA, and I can’t afford to let it drop!”
“So you’re only worried about your grades?”
“Yes!”
“And you’re not opposed to getting dinner with me?”
“Yes! Wait…”
He smiles. “Go on~”
You narrow your eyes at him, fear all gone and annoyance taking its place. “I sense I’ve made a mistake here.”
The teasing smile turns into an encouraging one and with a sigh, you surrender. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”
He gives a little celebratory ‘yes’ but you cut him short. “But I need to be back home by ten max.”
“Wait… your shift ends at seven…”
You cross your arms, finally getting back at him. “And what about it?” Seriously. Was he planning to hog your entire evening?
“That’s way too short!”
“I have a curfew placed on me by my mother back home. If I phone her any later than ten pm local time, she loses it. I would rather not be screamed at.”
“Alright. That’s fair.”
Now that that’s done, you still can’t believe you just agreed to a date with him.
However, Childe looks more than just ecstatic. He’s practically jumping in his seat, leg bouncing up and down and a wide smile on his face. When you raise a brow at that, he just smiles at you, practically oozing happiness.
He stays the same way, quiet and happy and fidgety as customers start to come in. As usual, he doesn’t say anything while you’re ringing them up and just stares. It’s when the rush dies down a little and only one guy is in the store that he speaks.
“Don’t you ever get tired of working so hard?”
You look at him from the corner of your eye. With his face in his palm, he’s staring directly at you. “I’m beeping items with a barcode scanner. I don’t see why it’s hard.”
“It is actually,” Childe says, firm in his statement. “I think you’re just used to the extra work so you don’t find it bothersome.”
“Maybe,” you shrug.
“Hm. You deserve better. Perhaps… someone who would take care of you, no questions asked. Someone… who would treat you as you deserve, cherish you, and make you happy.”
The way he speaks makes you uncomfortable, but you don’t let it show. Patience, you remind yourself. A few more weeks and you’ll be gone.
“There’s no need for others to look at you like this.” He sighs, “I hope that changes soon.”
You have no idea what he’s talking about, so you’re grateful the guy who was browsing the drinks for the last five minutes finally came to the counter. You busy yourself with billing him, but Childe just… stares. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you for a second.
Now, the regret of agreeing to dinner seeps in.
The customer leaves, and as soon as the door closes, you hear a phone buzzing. Before you even look at your phone, Childe has already pulled his out of his pocket and answers. He doesn’t give a response to whatever was said on the other side, brows furrowing as he cuts the call.
The chairlegs drag against the floor when he stands. “Sorry but I have to go.”
You don’t dare question the oddity despite your surprise to him leaving before your shift ends. “Alright.”
“I’ll pick you up outside your dorm. Is that okay?”
“Okay but what time-”
“I have your number. I’ll text you, don’t worry.”
With that, he’s out, leaving you confused inside the store. Considering the lack of smile and the fact that this is the first time he left before seven pm, it must have been something work related.
You just hope nothing advances after the dinner tomorrow.
-
He really does have your number. You don’t remember ever giving it to him, so you don’t dare question how he got his hands on it. At exactly 8: 06 pm he texted you that he would pick you up at 7: 30 pm outside your dorm tomorrow. That means that you would have around ten minutes to get ready.
Ten minutes are too much. You’re only going to change, maybe put on some lip gloss if you look too dead. No makeup and no accessories that could possibly make you look more attractive. Simple and plain is the goal.
Speaking of dinner, you’re going to have dinner with a mafioso. Perhaps you really should look into school transfers during the summer.
This sort of vicissitude was not welcome in the slightest, but you’ll have to work around it. If nothing else, you’re thankful that Childe is respectful of most basic boundaries and hasn’t attempted anything yet. Maybe if he wasn’t working where he was, you would’ve given him the time of day.
At 8: 19 pm, he texts you again. ‘Make sure to dress well :) I’d like to see you in a dress if you have any.’
Dress? Does he mean a fancy one? You send back a message asking for clarification, but he only replies with, ‘Anything casual and cute would work.’
Casual and cute… is he really bluntly asking you that?
-
7: 17 pm. You kick off your shoes and head inside, dashing straight to the bathroom to wash your face. You’re less tired than usual because of Childe’s absence at the store today, something that made the manager anxious, but you didn’t dare tell him about the date.
7: 23 pm. You change into the baby blue Gingham maxi dress you bought a week before finals. It flows just fine, and you grace the look only with pearl studs. Wallet and phone are shoved into the pockets of the dress, and to not look soulless, you apply some lip gloss. The gloss is also stuffed into your pocket in case you want to reapply it later, which you would rather not but you never know.
7: 28 pm. You set your hair again and slip on your sandals. One last look in the mirror and you give yourself a thumbs up. The look is something you would wear to a casual hangout with friends. Doesn’t look very try-hard or date-like. Perfect.
7: 30 pm. You open the door and head out. Pushing the elevator button, you check your phone for any messages while the elevator reaches your floor. Sudden nervousness makes you a little nauseous, but you breathe in slowly, telling yourself it’s no big deal.
The elevator door opens and as you step in, you collide with a very firm body. One look to the face of this body, and you’re frozen.
“Going somewhere?”
You nervously chuckle. “Childe. What’re you doing here?”
He ushers you both inside the elevator, pushing the ground floor button. “I’m here to pick you up? Did you forget about dinner?”
“Ah, no… it’s just… they don’t allow outsiders without a resident escorting them. I was going to wait in the lobby.”
“Really? The watchman let me in pretty easily.”
You don’t even want to know what that means.
“Anyway,” Childe says, voice louder than the gentle elevator music, “you look lovely.”
You glance at his maroon button down and roman silver dress pants, eyes resting on his earring. “Thanks. You look… fine as well.”
“Fine? I only look fine?” He’s leaning towards you now, and the elevator suddenly feels too small. Before you can be pressured into a reply, the doors open and you hastily step out into the lobby.
A chuckle comes from behind you, and soon you’re following him outside to a black car parked a little farther from the dorm entrance. With every step you take, you pray that no one left in your building for the summer catches you.
The car is unlocked with a beep, and though you’re a borderline broke student with no knowledge of expensive things because you can’t afford them so why bother, you can tell that the car is expensive. Or maybe it’s just polished to perfection, but it looks expensive.
Regardless, this is the hard part. Do you sit in the front seat or the back seat? The back seat would be rude but the front seat would be too straightforward. The front seat is too intimate and close but the back seat is too alienating. Shit. What do you do?
You leave your choice to luck and close your eyes, reaching for a door handle. Whichever you grab will be where you sit. Upon grabbing one, you open the door just to hear another one open as well. You open your eyes and a car speeds by at the same time.
Childe stands next to the open front seat door, a brow raised as he looks at you incredulously. You look at him, then to the door you just opened, then to him again. The door you opened is graced with your gaze once again before it’s Childe’s turn.
It’s silent, awkward, and you can’t shake the feeling that you messed up before the date even started.
“Would you… prefer the back seat?”
You blink at him, courage all gone when you reply. “Ah, no! It’s not that. I-I just wasn’t thinking. Sorry…”
Childe’s brow is still raised. “Okay. I’m not your driver. I’m your date. So, I’d like it if you sat in the front.”
Shit. Everything has gone to shit. You agreed to the dinner just to appease him and leave things on a good note instead of a sour one, yet you’ve already made things bad. Great job, [Name]. Aren’t you just wonderful?
Awkwardly, you close the door you opened and get in, allowing Childe to shut the door next to you before slipping into the driver’s seat. He starts the car, puts on his seatbelt, cracks his fingers, and folds his sleeves to the elbow before exiting the parking and going onto the road.
Your seatbelt feels uncomfortable in the heavy silence. Thoughts of what Childe might do if displeased swirl inside your mind but you frankly don’t know what. He seems to like you. He has never mistreated you besides being creepy a few times. Perhaps he’d forgive you. He always says your airheadedness is cute.
The pounding heart inside your chest gets more aggressive when Childe clears his throat, lips parting to give you another mini heart attack. “Aren’t you going to ask where we’re going?”
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a secret.”
The pounding heart quiets down a little, confusion kicking away some of the anxiety. “Then it’s good I didn’t ask out of my own accord.”
A secret? What does he mean by that? Scratch that, is the location being a secret a good thing or a bad thing? Should you text your live location to someone? But all your friends are gone for the summer. That one girl you’re acquainted with on one of the upper floors might help if you disappear. At the very least, your jokes in the conversations you’ve had might at least let her sympathise enough to report your status to the police.
“Are you scared?”
Childe’s question makes you look at him, your heart going back to pounding crazily upon seeing his smile. “S-should I be?”
“No. You should never be scared when you’re with me.” His eyes are still on the road. “I realise you have a negative impression of me, but there’s no reason for you to be scared. Well, not you but others should be, but that’s besides the point.”
“Ah. I see.” No. You don’t see, but just go along.
“Mhm. That dress looks amazing on you.”
He takes a right turn at the green traffic light, and you briefly glance at his flexing arms as the steering wheel turns. “Thanks,” you reply. “The dress has pockets.”
As a demonstration, you pull out your phone and show it to him. Childe chuckles at that, calling it cute and you find your heartbeat growing tamer. The phone is shoved back inside and pleasant conversation fills the car on the way.
Childe asks about how university is, how your finals went, and how you’ve come to find the city. You answer the last question truthfully, hands fidgeting as you tell him about your reservations with the ‘law and order’ situation and how you’ve been begged to steer clear of the mafia. The statement is followed by a joke of you doing a horrible job at that, and Childe laughs, saying that you don’t have to be afraid of anyone in the city anymore.
The comforting sentence doesn’t comfort you at all.
The car stops in front of a restaurant and Childe opens the door to allow you to step out. Keys are given for valet parking, and Childe takes your hand as he leads you inside. Thankfully, it’s not as fancy as you thought. It’s not even as expensive, the kind of restaurant where you could arrange a fancy friend get-together.
The not so high end restaurant doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but sitting across Childe does. He apparently made a reservation for the rooftop, so here you are, wind gently blowing in your hair as he unbuttons another button of his shirt.
“Do you like it?” He’s looking at you now, eyes briefly going to your phone when you place it on the table.
“It’s… nice.”
“I didn’t choose somewhere any fancier because I figured you might get uncomfortable. Next time though.”
Next time? Good God what is he planning?
Your face may have given it away because he's tilting his head at you, earring dangling in tandem as he acts coy. "Is something wrong? Do you not like the idea?"
"N-no. That's not it…"
"Hm?"
You gulp. "Ah it was just a little sudden. That's all."
"I'm glad." He's back to smiling now, face resting on his palm. "I'll make sure to treat you like how you should be next time."
Again, next time? Not happening.
Childe grabs the menu, requesting that you let him order for you both. He says something about the taste of home and this restaurant being the only one able to recreate that, but you don't bother. You simply brush him off, telling him he can go ahead.
It's when a few minutes have passed since ordering that he speaks again. Luckily, the clanking of plates and chatter helps tone down your nervousness.
"I come here whenever I miss home. This restaurant actually originated from my homeland, so I thought I'd bring you here. It's not high end as well, so that's an added bonus."
You nod. "Interesting."
Elbow on the table, he rests his chin on the back of his hand, blue eyes studying you carefully. The observant gaze makes you feel small, and you end up clearing your throat when his gaze drops to your collarbone.
You look him in the eye as you speak. "It's a little awkward, isn't it?"
He tilts his head like earlier again. "What is?"
"The silence."
"Ah. Sorry. I just couldn't help myself. You look stunning."
Unlike the previous times, the compliment makes your cheeks heat up. It's probably because this time he's looking right at you with the faint hint of red on his cheekbones. Seriously. He's so human. You wonder how he ended up being in the mafia.
Childe doesn't allow silence to settle again, chatting away about his homeland and how he misses the snow. He says it's easier to go outside in this city's climate, but the memories and people back home make living there worth it. During his rambling, you simply nod along, only adding in a comment wherever you deem necessary.
Patience, you tell yourself. This'll pass. At least you're fortunate in the sense that Childe is accommodating and nice.
He continues rambling, telling you about his younger siblings. Fulgent expression and energetic voice, you lean forward to give him your attention, content that he's making good conversation. As you listen to him, your fingers start fidgeting with the cutlery set in front of you.
Your eyes remain on him as he recounts a story where his youngest brother Teucer refused to acknowledge his sister Tonia after she got a haircut. Hearing about the young child's inability to recognise his sister makes you chuckle which in turn makes Childe pause to look at you with widened eyes.
A smile stretches on his lips, and you trace the edges of the knife when he resumes.
"Mama was pretty concerned about that. It took Teucer a few days to accept that his sister looks different now. Ah. I miss them. They're a lively bunch and I miss being with them."
Your thumb runs up and down the edge of the knife while it's clutched in your hand, face resting in the palm of your free hand. "You can visit them if you miss them that much."
Childe gently shakes his head, hair swaying with the movement. "It's not possible at the moment." At your confused expression, he clarifies, "I can't tell you why. It's confidential information."
"That's fair."
"But I am glad I still get to be here. I got to meet you, after all."
"Oh. That's… nice."
"Mhm." He's leaning towards you as well now, both arms resting on the table. "Any development in your plan to visit home? You should go. If you're having any problems with the plane ticket or something then-"
"Ouch!"
The knife drops from your hand, clattering dully on the table. Blood oozes from the pad of your thumb as your hands shake from the startle. It doesn't take Childe even a second to be on his guard.
"You cut your thumb?" He gets up, drags his chair beside you and sits, knees brushing against yours. "You were fidgeting with the knife… well, no matter."
Instead of grabbing a tissue, he takes a hold of your hand and stares at the bleeding cut. More blood oozes out of it the longer he stares and one drop even reaches your palm. However, that isn't what's bothering you. It's the fact that he just licked that blood trail.
He licked it. And now he's sucking on where the cut should be.
The feeling of his tongue is what brings you back to your senses, confusion and panic overtaking your senses and overwhelming you. Pulling your hand away does nothing because his grip is too strong. Goodness, at least the few tables around you are empty and no one else seems to be looking.
"Childe."
He doesn't let go, pressing your thumb down against his tongue instead.
"Childe. Let go-"
A trail of saliva joins your thumb and his mouth. The two of you make eye contact and you notice a slight blush on his face. Childe then manoeuvres your hand, his lips on your palm as he tenderly kisses the skin messily.
The action gives you goosebumps but you remain quiet, still confused about what's going on. It's when he finally lets go and presses a tissue to the cut that he speaks.
"Be careful."
You remain frozen, hand in his while the tissue remains pressed over your thumb. You can no longer hear the faint background chatter or feel the gentle breeze in your hair. In your senses are dull blue eyes, freckles dusted across cheekbones and nose, and warm breath fanning over your ear when he leans in.
Childe's voice is a whisper, the edges of his hair tickling your cheek as the chair quietly croaks. "You shouldn't be playing with dangerous things."
He leans back again. With a smile, Childe gets up, drags his chair back to where it was, and seats himself. The air surrounding you both is casual, light, like something completely out of the blue didn't occur. This gives you the hint that it's best to not talk about it.
Elbows on the table, both his palms hold his face as he looks at you with a smile. The skin under his eyes crinkles slightly, freckled cheeks squished, and long auburn eyelashes framing the deep blues. You sit there puzzled and feeling slightly violated while Childe continues staring.
It's honestly a little funny.
Right when you concluded that Childe was nice, he does something completely uncalled for. You remove the tissue that was pressed to your thumb, pleased to see that your blood cells have done their job and the platelets coagulated. It'll probably turn into a scab by the time you get home.
Dammit, now you're nervous all over again. Curse you mass of neurons floating in cerebral fluid! Be useful! Sure, he just sucked on your thumb, but keep it together.
When you look at him again, he's still staring. With a sigh, you ask him about his job, what kind of work he does, but Childe only shakes his head, refusing to answer.
His excuse smoothly exits via soft, pink lips. You didn't know you were looking at them until you heard him speak.
"I don't think you'd enjoy hearing about my job. Plus, it's all confidential."
You will yourself to look back into his eyes no matter how difficult eye contact may seem. "Shady? Is that what you're implying?"
"Hm." He hums. "Let's just leave it at that."
So he admits it? Great. You can't wait for the evening to be over. The bag of chips sitting at home sounds very comforting and appetising right now.
When he continues talking again, you start fidgeting with the edges of your sleeves under the table. You need a distraction. Using your phone would be rude, so you figure abusing the fabric of your sleeves is a better option. It takes a little while for your food to be here, but when it is, you compliment his order and ask him about his choice.
The question serves to keep the conversation easy and light while allowing you to only answer, not speak. This in turn allows nothing uncomfortable to occur during dinner. It’s thankfully uneventful until it's time to pay.
You had no qualms about paying for yourself, but being Childe, he told you he’d take care of it. You had no problem with that either. What you did have a problem with was what he said.
“Let me treat my girl.”
My girl. That’s what he called you. If that’s not a red flag, you don’t know what is. Despite that, you suck it in and let him take you home. Patience. You’ll leave soon and never show your face in his active districts again. Maybe you’ll even transfer schools if you’re lucky.
You’re really hoping you can transfer. He might come find you himself after you come back from summer break. Even with all those troublesome thoughts in mind, you act as casual as you could while sitting in his car as he drives you home. Conversation was nice, the thumb incident was borderline violating, but the meal was tasty.
The car stops near your dorm’s entrance, but before you could make any move to exit the car - hand hovering over the handle - Childe locks the doors. You turn to look at him but he’s already looking at you.
“I need to ask you something,” he says, voice unsure and eyes not meeting yours.
Tentatively nodding, you signal him to continue.
“Did you… enjoy yourself?”
“Huh?” You scold yourself mentally for the confused expression. Clearing your throat, you compose yourself. “Yeah. As far as enjoying dinner goes.”
His eyes finally meet yours, and the eye contact is intense. “I take it that you’d like to do this again?”
“...”
“I don’t mean immediately but maybe sometime in the future?”
Sighing, you slump in your seat. “I can’t be sure.” It’s better to make things clear and not lead him on, even if it’s harsh. “I’m not… looking for something right now. It would be unfair to say yes to you when I don’t mean it.”
Childe’s grip on the edge of his seat tightens, the leather squeaking as it gets abused. “I understand. But that doesn’t mean that you don’t like me, right?”
“Um, yeah.” You can’t pull your eyes away from his. “You’re… nice.”
He blinks. “I’m nice?”
“Yes.”
Childe’s mouth opens in disbelief before he goes back to his senses with a shake of his head. He leans towards you, hand grabbing the back of your seat and eyes widened. “So that means I have a chance?”
“Well,” you laugh awkwardly, “I never said you didn’t. I just said that-”
“I know I know. You’re not looking for something right now, but that doesn’t mean you won’t change your mind later. I’m not going to do something weird, don’t worry. I just… won’t give up.” He’s smiling as he speaks, happy at the prospect of not being rejected. “I’ll keep trying!”
Honestly, the determination he has is cute but it’s almost 10 pm. “That’s great and all, but could you unlock the door? I really need to go.”
“Oh, of course.” The doors unlock with a soft click and Childe bids you goodbye with another concerning statement. “I’ll make sure you change your mind. It’s a promise.”
The chips in your room lived to see another day.
-
The events of last night’s dinner keep replaying in your mind. It’s like a curse, the moment when Childe grabbed your wrist and gently shoved your thumb inside his mouth. Even with the bandage over it, you can still feel the ghost of his tongue, wet and warm, licking it.
You stop in your tracks to shiver.
It’s infuriating how even on your way to your shift you can only think of him and how he promised to change your mind. So much for leaving without any trouble. Can’t he take a hint? Maybe he’s too dense. It does seem characteristic of him.
The bell chimes when you open the door and head inside. A few customers are browsing the store, one middle aged woman and two office workers to be precise, while the manager sits by the cash register. His white polo shirt greets you before he does and by the time you come back from the employee room changed into your uniform jacket and nametag, the customers are gone.
Beloved and totally not airheaded manager moves away from the register, handing you a little list of work to do and announces that he’s leaving to meet up with someone.
Not even ten minutes of him being gone and the dreaded blue eyed mafioso walks in.
The bell chimes to signal his arrival, and unfortunately you meet his eyes as he stands at the entrance. He’s dressed too casually today, a white T-shirt with some band name on it, blue jeans and white sneakers. If you weren’t aware of his lifestyle, you would’ve thought that he was just another young adult on the street.
“Hi!”
You return his greeting with a simple nod, and he comes in. The only sound is his footsteps till he stops on the other side of the register. You meet his dead eyes again, regret instantly seeping into your bones. Childe’s gaze is affectionate, soft. Being on the receiving end of such a look is overwhelmingly foreign and uncomfortable.
The freckles dusted across his cheekbones and nose catch your attention, but they fail to be graced with your eyes for long. You immediately look away when you realise you started to stare.
Regardless, Childe acts as though he didn’t notice and rounds the register to sit on the chair next to you like always. He doesn’t speak of the date. Typical conversation plays out, much to your surprise, and you mentally curse yourself for expecting him to bring up yesterday evening.
However, it’s not his casual physiognomy that bothers you. It’s his friendliness and the fact that he has started messaging you like one would a friend. Just yesterday he had texted you for the first time in his life and now he’s spamming you funny videos and memes?
Should… should you be worried?
It might prove to be more difficult to shrug him off. You didn’t want to be harsh and outright reject him for him after how he had seemingly tried to be kind and took you out for dinner, but now it seems like that would have been the correct course of action. It’s not that you’re rejecting him solely on the basis of being a part of the mafia. It’s simply your desire to not be in a relationship right now.
Perhaps he’ll respect your wishes like he did last night, even if he did claim that he will keep trying.
-
You should not push your luck. Really. You shouldn’t. You shan’t do so.
First, you leave his meme spams on read. Then, you have the gall to address him as ‘sir Tartaglia’ again by mistake. The instant fall of his smile had sent a shiver down your spine and reminded you of why you told yourself to be careful. Just because he likes you doesn’t mean you’re safe.
Maybe you are, but that change of expression has creeped you out to no end. It’s better to be safe than sorry.
It has been two weeks since the dinner and Childe has settled with chatting with you over text during the late night hours. Tonight, however, you’ve put your phone away in favour of watching something on your laptop. The screen illuminates your face in the darkness of your room, and your phone’s buzzing briefly catches your attention.
You ignore it, obviously. You’re leaving in one week. This little ‘friendship’ or whatever one could call it is pointless. You’ve already planned on blocking Childe on all the socials he’s invaded as soon as you reach home, a step towards never seeing him again. The less you let him get attached, the easier it’ll be for him to forget you and move on.
-
Childe is… a little annoyed. You didn’t reply to any of his texts for a few days, leaving it on read since he sends some random videos after the texts. He let it slide at first, but now he’s bothered. It’s evident in the way he isn’t smiling or even talking to you for that matter.
Not wanting to end up on his bad side permanently, you capitulate your ego. “Childe? Is something wrong?” You’re restocking the potato chips as you speak, head peeking over the short aisle to look at him while he sits at the register. “You seem off.”
He makes eye contact with a face devoid of any emotion as if that were the most natural thing to do in the situation. “Why do you ask?”
“I just said so. You seem off.”
“It’s nothing.” Childe looks away, opting to stare at his shoes. He’s wearing casual clothes today as well, something you noted he started doing more often after the date.
Seeing that he won’t budge, you go back to restocking but perk up again when you hear him speak, albeit very softly.
“You’re ignoring me,” he mumbles to himself.
So, you do what comes to mind. Leaving the chip packets on the floor of the empty store, you walk up to him, hands on your hips. “I’m ignoring you?”
He doesn’t look at you, his shoes the most interesting sight in the world. “Yeah.”
“What makes you think that?”
“You don’t talk to me. It’s always me who initiates the conversation.” He looks up, making eye contact. “Is it because I’m in the mafia and you don’t want anything to do with me?”
The subtle accusation makes you defensive immediately, and you stammer. “N-not at all-”
“It is, isn’t it?” The earring hanging from his ear briefly catches your attention when he tilts his head. “That’s why you lied and said that you weren’t looking for a relationship right now.”
“But I’m really not.”
“Relationships aren’t ‘looked for’. They just happen.” Childe leans back in his seat, making you grow more nervous. “And you don’t want one to happen with me just because of where I work.”
Your hands start fidgeting with each other on their own, tongue pushing against your mouth’s hard palate. It takes strength to reply to his imputation. “That’s not true…” Heart beating wildly in your chest, you push the words out. “It’s just… I don’t want a relationship right now.” Think brain, think! “It’s not you, it’s me.” Curse you mass of neurons and amygdala for thinking of this ginger as a serious threat. “So please, don’t think of reasons that aren’t true.”
“But they are true,” he states, like he’s telling you that the moon also exerts gravity on the earth, voice boring and flat. “You just refuse to admit it because you’re scared of me.” Childe’s eyes bore into yours again, seeing through your casual lies and crafted confidence.
“I’m not scared of you.”
“You can’t fool me, [Name]. I’d prefer you to be truthful. Lies just get on my nerves.”
You gulp. There’s no way out of this now. “Sorry…”
“It’s alright. Just keep that in mind for next time.”
“...”
“How can I change your mind?”
“What?” You blink at him, not understanding what he’s asking you. “What do you mean?”
“How can I change your fear of me into attraction? I don’t like knowing that you’re afraid of me.” Childe’s expression turns into a pleading one. Genuine helplessness is written all over his physiognomy which in turn makes you uncomfortable. You feel small under his watchful gaze. It’s as though he’s watching every single movement and breath you take.
“I… don’t know…” Your hands hang by your sides as you stand in front of him, lips pressed into a thin line.
Voice gentle, he tries to persuade you once again. “Please. Tell me how to win your heart.”
“I… I don’t know.” There’s a pitiful helplessness in your voice now, and you don’t know what makes you want to tell him what you are about to. But you do. And you have to watch the realisation appear on his face. “I never wanted your attention.” Admitting that somehow leaves a sour taste in your mouth. “I never wanted anyone’s attention. All I am is a student trying to make ends meet while cussing out the degree I chose for myself.”
Eyes wide, Childe tries negotiating. “I could make your life better.” Hands slam the desk in front of him as he stands, barcode scanner jumping and falling back with a thunk. “I just need one chance. That’s all I need.”
“I’m sorry, Childe, but-”
“No no. I’m not asking. You don’t have to give me one.”
You look into the lifeless blues of his eyes as he continues. “I’ll take that chance whenever I get the opportunity. You don’t have to worry your pretty head over it.”
Somehow his decision to take matters into his own hands unnerves you more than his blatant signs of attraction. It didn’t help that he wordlessly left the store after that.
-
Today is your last shift before you leave for home. Oddly enough, Childe didn’t swing by the store ever since he left the other day, and he isn’t here right now as well. It makes you uneasy. Something’s wrong. You can feel it in your gut.
He hadn’t even contacted you or sent any cat videos or memes, and being the coward that you are, you left things as they were. Hope that you won’t see him again keeps you going and stops you from poking at the obvious issue lest it bites you back.
But… you feel a little guilty. Even now as you stare at the floor on the other side of the cash register, you can’t help but recall how Childe tried his best to keep conversation flowing during dinner despite getting a very rude lack of input from your side. He’s been trying, and you’re the one not giving him the time of day.
Nonetheless, relationships aren’t built on pity. You hope he finds someone else, someone more suited for him. That’s the only wish you have for him even if the moral ramifications are eating you up on the inside.
Still, you can’t stop your mind from wandering to the question of what he meant by taking the chance when the opportunity presents itself. Does he somehow know about your flight? Well, if he did, he wouldn’t have disappeared. Best to end things on a good note rather than a bad one and stay in contact. But what if he doesn’t care anymore?
Though that outcome is the welcomed one, it still stings to think that. Someone losing interest in you isn’t exactly something that makes you feel good. Regardless, it’s welcome in this situation. You were never in favour of his attention being on you and you never will be.
At 7: 08 pm, the bell at the door chimes in goodbye as you step out. The evening rush hour greets you, and you go with the flow of the people rushing home after a long day or work. Well, it’s the weekend tomorrow. At least they have something to look forward to.
The building of your current residence comes into view and relief washes all over you. Just a bit more and you can get into bed. There’s still a few more hours till you leave, and all your luggage is packed. All you need to do is take a nap.
You practically skip to the entrance, the cool air of the lobby’s air conditioning hitting your face. No one is inside and you hurriedly make way to the elevator.
The nap you took felt like an entire night of rest. With a stretch, you jump out of bed to gather the rest of your things. It’s when you’re locking the door to your room when you realise just how quiet it is. Your apprehension is understandable, if not relatable. You’ve never exited your room after coming back home for the day, so you have no idea what the building is like after a certain hour.
Dragging your suitcase with one hand, hand carry with the other, you haul them both and yourself - the backpack on your shoulders being an honourable mention - inside the elevator. The air is uncharacteristically cool and dry, something elevator music fails to get your mind off of.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you ignore it in favour of dragging your luggage outside the elevator and into the lobby. Who would be calling this late? Probably your mother. The video call would cut when you step out and the Wifi disconnects, so it doesn’t matter. Key left at the receptionist’s desk, you mentally thank yourself for checking out online in the evening but pray that the key is still here by morning.
Hesitation wins and you end up leaving it next to the pen holder. You were told to drop it off at the desk. It’s not your fault it’s unattended.
The bus stop is a five minute walk away, so with a deep breath, you step out of the lobby and to the outside, allowing the night’s cool breeze to caress your face as your luggage stays grasped in either hand. Your eyes land on the empty road, praying that you don’t get creeped out by the lack of people.
Biting the inside of your cheek, you take a step forward, then another, and another, till you’re a few metres away from the building’s entrance. The breeze is still blowing and the air is cool so you won’t be hot during your wait at the sto-
“[Name]?”
The breeze stops blowing.
“Where are you going at this hour? And… why… is your luggage with you?”
Your breathing is the next to stop, though only momentarily.
Almost on instinct, you let go of everything in your hands and reach for the phone in your pocket. You don’t even bother looking at the source of the voice, eyes glued to ‘Childe’ glowing on your screen as the contact of the missed call. Heart hammering in your chest, you slowly turn to look at him.
Regret and fear seep into your bones at the same time. He’s wearing something similar to what he usually did in the beginning, garnet dress shirt and dark grey dress pants. The gloves on his hands cover his palms but leave the majority of the back of his hands exposed, phone held in the leather grip.
What your eyes focus on first, however, is the earring. It catches the light from the lobby behind him like a beacon, but you’re quick to look away and into the blue irises of his empty gaze.
There’s no time for you to question why you didn’t hear him before he spoke up.
“Are you leaving?” He takes a step forward, phone slipping inside his pocket, and you take a step back. The reaction is all he needs from you to raise his hands in surrender, only coming closer when the wary look on your face softens into something more observant.
“Are you going back home?” Childe stands only one step away when he asks that and tilts his head waiting for an answer. He receives one in the form of a nod, and questions further. “When’s your flight?”
“Half past 3 am,” is your reply.
“So you have a little less than four hours,” he points out. “I actually came here to talk to you. I uh… I missed you and couldn’t help it. If I knew you were leaving, I would have come sooner.”
You’re still watching him attentively, the clothing he’s wearing sufficient to ring alarm bells in your head. “So you wanted to talk?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” you bite your lip, “I guess I’m not running late. The bus will be here in fifteen minutes anyway, so I have time to spare.”
“Perfect!” He grabs both of your luggages and drags them in the opposite direction of your intended destination: the bus stop. It takes a stern question from you for him to stop and look at you with that empty gaze again. “I’m just taking you to my car. I’ll drop you off. There’s no need to bother yourself with the bus.”
Any demurrance from your side is promptly shut down and smoothed over with reassurances that he’d get you to the airport safe and sound. As your packed belongings sit next to the car, Childe eases the backpack off your shoulder and leaves it on top of them.
It’s when he looks at you that the anxiety skyrockets, eating away your consciousness. Alone with Childe, a highly ranked member of the mafia, at near midnight with all your belongings and an assurance to be dropped off the airport safe and sound is an obvious problem.
You should have listened to the uneasy feeling in your gut back in the store.
“So,” he drawls, standing a foot away from you with his hands in his pockets, “I know I was brash and that I shouldn’t have made you uncomfortable and also should have apologised to you later, but I won’t.”
That causes you to perk up, anxiety dying down a little. “You… won’t?”
“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I won’t. It’s because I’m not going back on my words. I know you don’t view me as a potential partner, let alone friend, but that isn’t going to stop me.”
You don’t like where this is going.
Childe continues, eyes still boring into yours. “I don’t understand why you’re afraid of me. I’ve told and showed you countless times that I’m not going to do anything. It’s pointless to waste your energy. All I want is to exclusively be yours and call you mine. Why would I ever do anything to you if that’s what I wish for?”
The sir suddenly feels too suffocating, like not enough oxygen is filling your lungs. There’s a subtle darkness in your vision, one you deal with by walking to and leaning on the parked car, not that it helps. Not with the deeper breaths you’ve started taking. It doesn’t take any more indications for Childe to rush to your side, an unwelcome hand gently stroking your back.
The breeze flows again, caressing your face and blowing through your hair, but you’re still sweating.
You don’t know what happens next, just that you’re inside the car, the AC turned on, a light shining over your head, and a hand still running up and down your back while you take mouthfuls of breaths. They’re quicker now, you note, and a hand - your own hand - rises to cover your mouth as your sight and self-awareness is restored.
The confusion and vulnerability hits you like a truck and the tears simply fall harder.
Each and every time the hand moves over your back, you feel like more of your skin was peeled off, goosebumps still littering over your arms. It takes several minutes for you to somewhat calm down and become cognizant of your emotions and actions. It doesn’t come as a surprise when the first thing you decide to do in that state is cry harder.
What are you crying for? You don’t know. It’s hard enough as it is to just continue breathing. Processing your emotions is for later.
A hand, a foreign one, gently lifts your face, allowing the dashboard to come into view, and turns it to the source. Childe’s blurry image greets you as your chest heaves, warm thumbs swiping away the tears rapidly running down your cheeks. You don’t have time to dwell on where his gloves disappeared to, focusing on the feeling of his warm thumbs feeling cool over your tear stricken face.
Several minutes pass again, and you sit with your face in your hands while Childe puts your luggage inside the car trunk. Reddened, swollen eyes meet his blue ones in the silence of the car, your sniffling being the only sound. Whatever you just experienced was horrible. Had Childe not been… no. He is part of the cause. Him helping you through it is the least he could have done.
The driver’s seat is quickly occupied once again, and Childe breaks the silence, concern present all over his face. “Are you feeling better?”
You nod, too uncertain in your ability to speak. His question of whether or not you want some water is met with a shake of your head, and Childe settles with pressing his lips into a thin line.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think it would upset you that much.”
Voice slightly raspy, you reply after clearing your throat. “It’s alright. I… I didn’t see it coming as well.”
He slumps into his seat, head turned to look at you. Childe’s eyes glaze over your body, looking for potential signs of fear. It seems to him that you’re dazed, confused. It’s advantageous for him, if not relieving. Seeing you afraid or in pain doesn’t elicit any positive feelings.
After receiving your permission, Childe puts on his seatbelt - all the while making sure you fasten yours as well - and reverses the car, intending to drive you to the airport. You’re a bit late compared to what you originally planned, but you suppose he can get you there on time.
The car is eerily quiet with the lack of music. There’s no gentle humming from Childe, only the sound of either of you breathing. Unfortunately for you, the silence fails to last.
“So when are you coming back?” Childe’s voice is calm, flat. He’s completely casual in his question despite your concern that he wouldn’t take kindly to being lied to about such a thing.
“It’s one way,” you lie. Not being held accountable for your verbal deceit helps you gain some confidence. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I’ll be back for class obviously.”
The car is silent again for a while and it fills you with hope for a quiet ride, one where you would get off, thank Childe profusely, and head home never to see him again. Alas hope is crushed, and you freeze in your seat, muscles tensing when Childe speaks again.
“How much more are you going to lie?”
Childe continues driving, acting unaffected with his demeanour and tone, but it wouldn’t take a genius to know that him gripping the steering wheel in a bone crushing grip is anything but him being casual.
No. He’s certainly upset, and you’re afraid you’re too much at his mercy.
“I gave you another chance and you ruined it.” Childe’s fingers tap rhythmically on the steering wheel, voice even as he speaks. “Why don’t we try again? When’re you coming back?”
You bite your tongue when you feel the initial signs of panic bubbling up your throat. It takes a bit of force to make yourself speak, even if it’s in a more fearful way. “Seven weeks. I’ll be home for seven weeks.”
“You’re not going to block me on your socials when you get there, are you?”
With a shake of your head, you continue looking out the window. “No.”
He hums, satisfied at your cooperation. “Good.” The car takes a turn, the empty roads seemingly omnipresent. “I’m not going to do anything. I just wanted to know the truth… er, more like hear it directly from you.”
A few minutes of silence pass, but it doesn’t last because you can’t stay quiet for longer. “You’re going the wrong way.”
“I am?” The smile in his voice is evident.
“Yes, you are.” You turn to look at him, nervously gulping at his grin. “Stop messing around.”
He doesn’t reply.
“Childe!”
Your panic fails to affect him in any way. With the fuzziness growing in your mind, there’s not much you can do except grab onto his sleeve. That causes him to look at you, even if just for a moment, but that’s all you get for a reaction. As a last resort, you reach for your phone in your pocket but freeze when you don’t feel the device.
You don’t need to say anything for Childe to provide the answer to your question. “Your phone isn’t there. It’s with me, I’m afraid.”
“Childe,” you say, voice low and pleading, “please stop screwing around.”
He sounds slightly offended when he replies. “You think I’m screwing around?”
“Yes!” Your exclamation doesn’t seem to affect him, so you opt for a more direct approach. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. I came with you because I trusted you.” The words are spat out, but Childe only seems amused.
“Trusted me?” He chuckles. “Sweetheart, if you trusted me, you would’ve told me about your flight from the start instead of lying about putting in a one week notice. You’re scared of me, and despite the fact that it stings like salt on an open wound, I suppose there’s some merit to that as well.”
“W-what do you mean?”
“What do you think I mean?”
You bite the inside of your cheek now. There’s no way you can tell what Childe means by what he said. Judging from your previous conversations as well, your fear of him is a sour spot, but maybe you could exploit that to your favour.
“I’m afraid of you, because of your unpredictability and that is exactly what you are demonstrating right now.” You grab onto his sleeve again, albeit more desperately this time. “You gave me more reasons to fear you than you did to like you.”
The car slows, as if synchronised with Childe’s thought process. “Is that… really what you think of me?”
“Yes,” you reply in an even voice. “I was already a little scared from what I heard from people and then you started doing all this stuff-”
“Stuff like what?”
“Stuff like this!”
He sighs, moving the steering wheel to stop the car at the side of the road. “I just told you that I can’t ever hurt you, and you’re still calling me scary?”
Your eyes focus on his expression, specially searching for any signs of him lying - hypocritical on your part - but fail to find anything other than sincerity. The grip on his sleeve loosens, your hand ultimately returning to your lap, when he turns to face you. It’s intimidating to look into his dead eyes but it still makes you wonder how such a beautiful colour can be so lifeless.
Childe’s lips move and despite your feelings you find yourself absolutely memorised by the plush pink as his voice leaves his mouth.
“I’m not changing my mind.”
His declaration forces you to focus on his words, any attraction be damned.
“Lying to me and saying that you haven’t decided on leaving for home did get on my nerves a little,” he says, “but I forgive you. You’re cute, so I can’t stay mad at you for long.”
You let his words sink in. He says that he forgives you for the lie, but what now?
“Alright,” you drawl, voice nervous, “now can we please go to the airport?”
Childe leans in, a smile on his face. “How about instead of the airport, we go home?”
The word ‘home’ catches your attention and dread settles in. If he’s implying what you think he is, then you don’t think you’ll be able to catch your flight, let alone get to the airport.
“Childe,” you croon, “I think we have some misunderstandings. Before either of us does something impulsive and hurtful, let’s just talk it over.”
He just looks amused. “Oh? Talk over what? You’re the one pushing me away.”
You try again to de-escalate. “I only told you that I don’t want a relationship.”
“Liar.” Childe’s hand reaches for the edge of your seat, the skin below his collarbones and a little bit of his chest visible as he leans in closer. “We’ve already had this discussion before. Since you’re cute and obviously not in very good mental shape at the moment, I’ll give you a little bit of advice. Let me do my thing. I’m not going to hurt you, just… change your scenery a little.”
You narrow your eyes at him upon saying the word ‘scenery’. Though consternation eats you up on the inside, you trust that Childe wouldn’t do anything to you, at least not physically. What he is currently planning to do is a different matter.
Patience, you remind yourself. That might just be the only thing you have left.
“Now that that’s settled,” he says, going back to the steering wheel, “why don’t I take you home? I’m sure you’ll like it. It’s more comfortable and spacious than where you were living.”
In the most calm and even voice you could muster, you try pleading with him again. “Childe, please. Don’t do something that would make me hate you.”
He doesn’t even look at you when he answers. The lack of smile and his eyes fixed on the road as he continues driving does not help ease your increasing dread. “It might be a small bump, but the end destination is what matters in this case, not the journey.”
You glance to the door handle in an act of desperation but bite your lip when all hope is lost at the sight of the lock. Month old words hit you like a truck, patience being some elaborate scheme for the notorious members of society to make others more docile and submissive to them. After all this time, would it be wise to believe you’ll be alright?
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stuck in your throat || a/b/o
hi so today is @lexirosewrites’s birthday today and like,, idk three or so weeks ago she followed me (hi lexi <3 happy birthday <3 hope today has been fun <3) and to celebrate both of those things i started writing an omegaverse fic, and i wanted it done by today but it is grew a mind of its’ own and now it’s much bigger than i thought it’d be so instead of the full fic, have a snippet <3
again, happy birthday lexi <3
“Hello?” Steve answered, having learned to not open the call with who was answering without knowing who was calling from one too many scam calls
“Is this Steve Harrington?” A soft feminine voice asked, taking Steve by surprise.
“May I ask who’s calling?” Steve asked, not willing to concede his identity until he knew it wasn’t someone looking to sell him ‘Alpha Pills’ or something just as ridiculous.
“Of course! My name is Chrissy Cunningham, you sent in an application for being a full time nanny and tutor?” She responded with a cheerful voice. “I can’t <i>really</i> go much more in depth without an NDA being signed.”
Recognition zapped through Steve’s body and he sat up in his seat. “Oh! Yes, I’m Steve. Um. I’d be happy to sign an NDA, just may I ask why?”
“Yes, you may! My client is a big fan of privacy and only agreed to hire someone if they were under an NDA for the protection of their pup.” aaand all of Steve’s anxiety surrounding the NDA pretty much melted away. Sure, maybe it was a bit much to do, and sure, now he was dying with curiosity to know just <i>who</i> he had ended up applying to, but the knowledge that the NDA was for the protection of the pup soothed any anxiety Steve had originally felt about signing an NDA. In fact, it kind of made his omega perk up. He shook off the feeling, focusing on Chrissy.
“That’s actually really relieving to hear,” Steve said with a laugh. “When or where can I sign the NDA?” he questioned, wondering when Robin would be home so he could tell her.
“Well, first, you and I will do a preliminary interview, just like any other job interview. Then, if all goes well, I’ll send you an email containing the NDA for you to review and sign,” Chrissy explained clearly and cheerfully. “After you sign the NDA, my client will perform an in-person interview and then we’ll go from there.”
“That all seems pretty straight forward so far,” Steve replied, standing from where he had been lounging on the couch. He walked to the kitchen, where he and Robin had put up a magnetic whiteboard calendar to fill with each of their schedules and plans. He grabbed the blue marker, his color, and prepared to jot down when they’d have the interview.
“Perfect! Happy to hear it,” Chrissy said with an audible smile.
“When will the interview with you be?” Steve asked, biting his lip as he stared at the calendar, which had sparsely been marked with his blue marker, even since starting this job hunt. Robin’s plans were in red, and was much more abundant due to having three part time jobs.
“Well, as soon as possible, really. If you’re available now, we could take care of it right away.” the woman responded, sounding like she was walking into another room.
“Oh!” Steve exclaimed, recapping the marker and returning it to the pen holder. “Yes, of course. I’m available now.”
“Perfect!” Chrissy’s voice sounded from Steve’s phone as the omega walked back to the living room and sat on the couch. “So, starting off pretty easy here, what made you apply for this position?”
Steve thought back and grimaced at the reminder that it was Robin who had submitted his application to this particular job. He wasn’t about to admit that, though, and quickly found a more appropriate response.
“Well, I love taking care of pups, and I just got my teacher’s license a month ago,” Steve explained, which wasn’t a lie, so he figured it was probably as good of an answer as any. “I also saw that this job traveled, and my best friend thought that it’d be good for me.”
“Yes, that was going to be part of this conversation, too. So, you’re obviously alright with the traveling, then?” Chrissy asked and Steve heard what he thought could be pen scratching as she wrote notes. He swallowed thickly, suddenly anxious about what she was writing. He decided to ignore his anxiety, even as his scent soured around him with it.
“Oh, yes, traveling is more than okay,” Steve agreed immediately, “but it’s more important to me that I’ll be taking care of a pup, if I’m honest.”
This statement seemed to pique Chrissy’s attention, as the writing stopped for a moment. “Why is that?” she eventually asked.
Steve winced, wondering if he should be up front about it or not. If Robin were here, she would insist that he was honest. He decided on a half-truth.
“I’ve always wanted pups, and a lot of them,” Steve admitted, fidgeting with a loose piece of thread on the couch. He switched which arm was holding the phone, as he had started to get a little sore from holding it up for so long. “But I don’t have a partner, so I can’t really have my own right now. I discovered through babysitting for one of my neighbors that I have a knack for taking care of pups.”
The scratching noise was back as Chrissy listened to his responses. Steve was nervous he wasn’t doing well, but figured that it wasn’t going bad if she wasn’t suddenly calling the interview short.
“Your resume says that you’re good in high stress situations,” Chrissy said after a couple seconds of silence as she wrote down whatever notes she was taking. Steve briefly wondered if he should be doing the same thing. “I’m going to give you an example scenario, and you’re going to tell me how you’d respond.”
“Sounds simple enough,” Steve agreed, trying not to let his voice betray how anxious he was.
“For the sake of simplicity, we’ll say the pup’s name is Rosie,” she informed him before she continued to describe the scenario. “You’re taking Rosie to the park, when suddenly there is a crowd of people surrounding you and you lose sight of her. What do you do?”
Steve thought the scenario was odd, but not ‘out there’ enough to alarm him. He thought about his answer for a moment before replying.
“I would try to follow her scent, first, because that will usually lead me to any pup I’ve babysat. If that doesn’t work, I will call out for her. If the situation is bad enough, I would contact the authorities, and either you or Rosie’s father.” he paused for a second before continuing, trying to make sure he covered all of his bases. “But honestly? If Rosie is small enough, I would have rather carried her once I saw the crowd, or hold her hand, for the reason of lowering my chances of separation.”
Silence that’s only broken up by the scratching of pen against paper followed, and Steve was suddenly anxious that he answered incorrectly. He answered what he would do if it were his own pup, but what if that wasn’t right? What if he wasn’t cut out for this job?
“Alright, next scenario,” Chrissy said, moving swiftly onto the next one without commenting on his answer; Steve didn’t know if he preferred her not acknowledging it or if he would prefer to be told his answer was shitty up front. The next few scenarios were just as oddly specific, but Steve answered them exactly as he did the first one. He tried to not overthink his answers too much because between each one there would be a stretch of time that Chrissy used to presumably write his answers down.
“One last question and then we should be good to move forward.” Chrissy said a good twenty minutes of questions later. “When would you be available to start working?”
Steve’s eyebrows raised, surprised that he was seemingly, maybe being offered the job. “Um—immediately. I would need time to pack, but other than that, I’m free.”
“Wonderful,” Chrissy said cheerfully. “Alright, now it’s your turn. Do you have any questions for me?”
Steve hummed, trying to go through his usual list of questions he asked during interviews that hadn't already been answered and came up empty. “Not at the moment, but I’ll make sure to write any I think of down, if I do.”
“Perfect! So, I will consult with my client, and I have a few other applicants that are interested, but so far, you are my top pick, but I don’t make the decisions,” Chrissy laughed, as if Steve was in on the joke. He laughed with her, not knowing what else he should have done. So, maybe not a job offer, but it sounded promising anyway. “I will be in contact in a few days, three at most.”
“Sounds good, thank you so much for considering me, Chrissy,” he responded with a smile, hoping to leave one last good impression.
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Collecting Strays - Kelley O’Hara X Reader (platonic)
Summary: Miss Kelley is known for making friends with younger players and taking them under her wing. When she notices you, a rookie at Gotham, are having a bad day, she does what she can to make you feel better, adding you to her collection of younger players she looks out for.
Warnings: slight angst
It had been less than a month since you signed with Gotham. Just a few short weeks ago your mom had helped you move in to your new apartment and get set up in this new city. At first everything was fine. You seemed to fit in well with the team making a few friends with your fellow teammates.
One in particular was Kelley O’Hara. One your very first day with Gotham, Kelley took you under her wing, showing you around, giving you tips during training, and just being a supportive teammate.
Normally, you were excited for practice but today you just couldn’t muster up the energy to even try to seem excited to be there. First, your coffee had spilt in your car leaving you un-caffeinated. Then, you couldn’t stop shivering as you walked outside to the training pitch. The wind was blowing in your face making you even colder despite the training jacket you had on. The sky seemed to get greyer and greyer as training went on. You also weren’t playing as well as you could.
At the end of practice you took a deep breath, not wanting your teammates to see you cry. Showering as quickly as possible and throwing on clothes, you quickly made your way out of the changing room trying to avoid conversation.
Today was just a hard day, your teammates didn’t need to know that.
You were halfway out the building when a hand on your shoulder stopped you.
“Hey kid,” Kelley said turning you to face her, “what’s up? You’ve been off all day.”
You try to shrug off Kelley’s hand, not bothering to take your eyes off the floor.
“Nothing’s up, I’m just having an off day,” you lie.
“That’s not going to work with me kid,” Kelley crossed her arms in front of her.
Still not looking up you just shrug in response.
“Come on, your gonna come over to my place,” Kelley demanded pushing you towards the door.
“Kelley, really I’m fine I just want to go back to my apartment,” you try and pull away from her.
“Spending an hour at my apartment wont kill you,” Kelley said practically dragging you to her car.
That’s how you ended up on Kelley’s couch, hot chocolate in hand watching some random show.
“So, you want to talk about it yet?” Kelley ask, once you finish your drink setting down.
“No, not really,” you say, turning your attention back to the tv.
Kelley lets out an exaggerated sigh, causing you to roll your eyes.
“I told you early, I’m fine.” Looking over Kelly arches an eyebrow, causing you to sigh this time. “Okay, it’s my mom’s birthday and I miss home and I miss my dog and I really wish I could be there celebrating with everyone and I love it here but…”
Kelley cuts you off “woah, take a deep breath,” pulling you into a hug you burry your face in her neck wrapping your arms around the older woman.
You hadn’t realized you were crying but now it felt like you couldn’t stop.
“I miss home,” you whimper in Kelley’s embrace.
“Shh, I know,” she says rubbing your back. “I know.”
You don’t know how long you to stay like that. With you practically in Kelley’s lap letting it all out as she runs her fingers through your hair and rubs your back, holding you until you calm down.
Once she notices your sobs had stopped Kelley pulls back slightly, wiping your tears away.
“I know its hard,” she says her thumb stroking your cheek. “I wont lie to you and tell you it gets easier. In this profession, you’re always going to miss something. Birthdays, holidays, weddings, but you get so much more and make so many amazing memories and travel to new places, it’ll make it worth it. I’m sorry you miss home but just know this team is here for you. I’m here for you.”
Fresh tears make its way down your cheeks and you whip at them with your shirt sleeve. “Thank you Kelley. Not just for today but for being there for me even when I first joined the team.”
“Of course” Kelley smiled pulling you in for a hug. “Now how about we get some ice cream, ice creams guaranteed to make anyone happy.”
You laugh for probably the first time today, “okay.”
It had been a few hours since your breakdown to Kelley but you were still in her apartment. A knock at the door startled you both. Kelley rolled her eyes when a familiar voice called out. You could tell that a few people were outside, namely Rose and Sonnett, but you couldn’t tell who else.
At first you had thought Kelley had invited them over but when someone knocked Kelley rolled her eyes mumbling how some people just wouldn’t leave her alone as she went to open the door. You knew her annoyance was fake though when Jenna walked through the door Jenna launched herself at Kelley. Kelley picked her up spinning the younger girl around. Rose and Sonnett followed behind walking into Kelley's apartment. You smiled in greeting to your teammates.
Sonnett and Rose made their way into the living room, saying quick hellos as Kelley sat Jenna back down on her feet.
“You guys ate ice cream without us,” Sonnett frowned when she noticed the two empty bowls on the coffee table.
“Ice creams for invited guest only,” Kelley said following Jenna and Rose into the living room.
“I’m hurt Miss Kelley,” Sonnett placed a hand over her heart pretending to be offended.
“What are you guys watching,” Rose said sitting down between you and Sonnett.
“Just some trash reality tv show,” You said causing Kelley to scoff.
“First, they barge in then you insult the tv shows I watch.”
“We should watch a movie,” Jenna interrupts as she squeezes herself in between Sonnett and Rose.
“I agree,” Sonnett picks up the remote, looking for a movie to watch.
“You guys know this is my apartment, right?” Kelley is still standing, her hands on her hips looking at all of you.
“Please Miss Kelley? That show was boring,” you stick out your bottom lip, giving Kelley the best puppy-dog eyes you can.
“Sonnett, look what you’ve taught her,” Kelley gasp causing the room to laugh. “My sweet innocent baby calling me Miss Kelley.”
Kelley pinches your cheeks, swatting at her hands trying to get her to stop as the others laugh at you two. “I’m not a baby,” you pout.
“You’re one of the youngest on the team, of course you’re a baby,” Kelley says finally sitting down next to you pulling you into her side.
You cross your arms sinking back into the couch.
“Does that mean I’ve been upgraded Miss Kelley?” Jenna ask leaning forward to look at Kelley.
“Ugh not you too,” Kelley groans covering her face with her hands.
“Shh guys, Sonnett picked a movie,” Rose said kicking her feet up on the coffee table.
The movie started and everyone was quite watching as the opening credits came on the screen.
“Wait!” Jenna stood up from the couch, walking to the kitchen. “We need popcorn.”
After the movie, Sonnett, Rose, and Jenna started getting their things together.
“Thanks Miss Kelley for letting us crash your place,” Jenna said pressing a kiss to Kelley’s cheeks.
“Yeah yeah,” Kelley said taking empty bowls to the kitchen.
A chorus of byes followed as the other women made their way out of Kelley’s apartment, leaving just you and her. You grabbed the remaining bowls from the coffee table, taking them to the kitchen.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Kelley said taking them from your hands.
“It’s okay, it’s the least I can do since you let me stay here all day,” you shrugged.
“If I remember correctly, I had to drag you to my car earlier,” you roll your eyes at Kelley’s response.
You lean against the counter as Kelley loads her dishwasher, “about that, how am I getting to my apartment?”
“Why don’t you just stay her tonight and I’ll drive us to training in the morning?”
You try to come up with an excuse but you don’t have one and you don’t really want to be alone right now any ways.
Nodding, your wrap your arms around yourself, “okay, thanks.”
“Yeah its no problem,” Kelley says giving you a soft smile.
Now that a few hours had gone by you realized you weren’t sad anymore, or as sad. Kelley had succeeded in taking your mind off things. You didn’t realize how desperately you had needed the company. If you hadn’t come over to Kelley’s you would have probably gone back to your apartment after practice and spent all day crying in your bed.
“No Kelley, I mean thank you, for today,” you admit. “I really needed this.”
“I know kid,” Kelley says pulling you in for a hug.
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[ DOUBLE BIRTHDAY ] — psh . <3
SYN. sunghoon asks you to help him buy a birthday present for his cousin….but he doesn’t even have one!
genre . fluff ! warnings . second hand embarrassed , caught in lie ! word-count . 1.2k+ ! note . im so late but happy birthday sunghoon!! my ult bias ever since the first ep of i-land<3 will write one for ni-ki soon!! this one is so rushed i don’t really like it, but maybe you could find a way to like it!!
“finally! what took you so long?” one of your coworkers asked you as soon as you entered the store.
you’re a jewelry seller, been working in the same place ever since you were young. you love your job, and love your coworkers too.
“sorry! i had some things to take care of” you said and went to get ready and start your shift.
as you got out of the workers room, you saw all of your coworkers standing outside while holding a cake, “happy birthday y/n” they cheered.
“thank you” you smiled and blow the candles.
you completely forgot that it’s your birthday today, your coworkers are always the ones to remind you, and you’re more than thankful to them, but other than eating the cake with them you’re not the person to go and celebrate on your birthday.
“what are your plans today?” one of your coworkers asked.
“finishing this shift and going to binge watch some movies” you smiled, “so boring!! go out and celebrate!!”
you shrugged them off as you saw someone familiar coming closer to you.
“sunghoon? is that you?” you asked and when you realized it’s him you waved, “hey! how can i help you today?” you smiled.
sunghoon was your classmate in college, you were good friends, but busy schedules cut you off.
you had the biggest crush on him in college, and you would definitely say yes if he ever asked you to date him, but he never did.
you spent all of your college days together, he was there for you when you needed him the most, and you promised to take care of him as long as you’re alive.
but life doesn’t always go according to your plans.
you and sunghoon share the same birth date, and you’ve spent your birthdays in college together.
you made eye contact with him and you forgot how much you missed him, all the time you spent together flashed back in your mind.
he smiled back at you and showed you his cute dimples while you tried so hard not to swoon over him.
“hey y/n! it’s been a while! how have you been?” he asked and you nodded, “nothing really changed, i’m still working here” you chuckled.
“what brought you here?” you asked.
“it’s my cousin’s birthday soon and i wanted to get him a jewelry, not something expensive and hardcore, but more like soft” he said.
“alright! let’s get to work!”
it was a bit strange for you, you can’t remember sunghoon having a cousin, but nevertheless you wanted to help him and spend some time with him.
you showed him a few jewelry which he tried on and liked a few of them, you shared full conversations which lead you to more talking and talking about whatever you had in mind.
“is that how you’re going to spend your birthday today? buying a jewelry for your cousin?” you chuckled.
“he’s very dear to me! it’s been a while since i saw him” he smiled and you nodded.
“do you think he’ll like this one or that one?” he asked, pointing at two designs that you told him you liked the most.
“what kind of a person he is?” you asked, “each jewelry has to match its owner”
“he’s shy, but really cute, also smart and pretty” he chuckled, “if you were him which one you’d pick?”
“i’d pick the bracelet, it’s really soft and not too eye catching, it matches pretty faces like yours and it’s really adding to the final touch if you ask me” you finally realized what you just said and freezed in your place.
“pretty faces like mine-“ “hey sunghoon! what are you doing here?” someone cut sunghoon off.
“jake? aren’t you supposed to be at work?” you remember jake, sunghoon used to talk about him a lot during lunch breaks, you’d laugh your ass off while listening to the funny stories sunghoon has on jake.
“i asked you a question first” jake coughed.
“i’m here to buy a jewelry for my cousin” he answered confidently, elbowing jake as if he’s trying to hint him something.
“cousin? you don’t have a cousin sunghoon what are you— o-oh” jake then looked at you and realized what was happening. he took his hand off of sunghoon’s shoulders and awkwardly giggled, “hahaha i forgot! you do have a cousin!! tell her i said hey!!”
“it’s him” sunghoon whispered, “oh yes!! tell him i said hey!” jake coughed and ran out of the store.
“i’m sorry for his—“ “so no cousin?” you crossed your arms.
sunghoon fixed his tie and awkwardly giggled, “no cousin”
“oh! you got it for yourself then? it’s your birthday after all!” you smiled, “yeah, you could say that” he nodded.
“i don’t understand” you shook your head.
“i was actually trying to find a way to talk with you” he played with his fingers, “it’s been a while since we talked, and i remember the workplace you told me you’ve been working ever since you were young”
you were a bit taken aback but you can’t deny that this man named sunghoon had such an effect on you.
you remember your college years, when you used to have the biggest crush on him, and apparently, you still have it in you.
“i didn’t know how to come up to you without sounding so weird, so i used the cousin excuse, but if i’m being honest i just missed you” he cleared his throat.
“i was actually wondering when does your shift end, and if i could finally take you out on a date” he scratched his nape.
“i’d love that, i finish in a few hours-“ “no! your shift ends now!! thank you for your hard work!!” your coworker pushed you to the workers room and closed the door after whispering a “go get your man!”
you got out of the room after you got ready and your eyes met sunghoon’s.
he was holding a box with your store’s name on it, “i know you don’t like celebrating your birthday or receiving gifts, but please accept this one, happy birthday y/n” he opened the box and you saw the bracelet you recommended him a few minutes ago.
you threw your hands on him and hugged him tightly, “i missed you so much sunghoon, happy birthday”
he hugged you back even tighter, “i missed you so much too”
“before we leave! let me get something, go wait for me outside i’ll be right back!” you said and he nodded.
you ran back to your coworker and hugged her, “thank you, i just need one last favor” you smiled and she nodded.
when you went outside to see sunghoon again, you handed him a box.
“y/n just because i bought you a present it doesnt mean you have to do it too—“ “just open it!” you pleaded and he did.
there was a bracelet that was exactly his type, the one he’d always tell you how much he wanted.
his eyes widened and he tried to fight the urge to kiss you right there and then.
“it was made a few years ago, when we were still in college, i wanted to hand it to you but i was scared, so i kept it here and swore i’ll hand it to you as soon as i get a chance” you said and he smiled, hugging you tightly again.
“i love it, thank you y/n”
“thank you for making my birthday so much better with your presence sunghoon”
PERM TAG-LIST ; @sungwhoonz @ohdudehesflirting @unlikelysublimekryptonite @deobiis @manooffline @miumiuoi @in-somnias-world @lovelovelovebts @filmofhybe @wonbinsnovia @daegutowns @aurumiee @soobywon @dhriti-stories @ariadores @firstclassjaylee @watamotee33 (bold means cannot be tagged)
••• copyright © srjlvr all rights are reserved.
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𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇
౨ৎ . . . in which CHUUYA NAKAHARA begins to notice there's one particular day of the year you hate to celebrate.
warnings: female reader, established relationship, suggestive content, criminal themes, previous trauma (f!reader), healing, hurt/comfort, w.c 2.2k
"You want to go for dinner? Today? Oh, would it be okay if we reschedule, Chuuya? I forgot about a friend I promised to see..."
"Ah — the weather today is forecast to be awful! How about we just stay inside and watch a movie?"
"Oh, I don't usually celebrate my birthday. But enough about me! Why don't we go abroad for your one? Wherever you'd like to go. I'm sure Mori-dono will spare his favourite General a few days."
.
.
.
𓂃 ࣪˖
Chuuya Nakahara, quick-minded and astute as he was, had noticed a pattern in your mood around this time of year. It was as if there were a storm impending, its' clouds creeping over you a little bit more each day. You became quiet and reserved; an opposite to how you were when it was just the two of you — your mind settled elsewhere.
He could see the nightmares you tried to hide play like shadows across your face.
"Do you think she'd like this one, Chuuya?"
He blinked, beckoned from his thoughts. You were gazing up at him — eyes wide, expectant — pointing at an item in front of you. Upon closer inspection, Chuuya realised you had been gesturing between two different coloured teddy bear plushies in the storefront window.
Frowning, what the fuck was the difference, he muttered, "Don't 'spose it matters. She's just gonna lie in bed and drool all over it in anyway, right?"
"Of course, it matters!" You scolded him. "Her favourite colour is pink; which is why I'm leaning more towards the right one. But the colour scheme of her room is yellow, which the other one would compliment much better. Hmm, I don't know."
"Just shove a few yen into an envelope. Easy. If you're feelin' extra sentimental, give her some mochi with it, too."
You flitted your eyes from the two cuddly toys to your boyfriend with the intent to level him with a look. But when you did, caught sight of his furrowed eyebrows; the way he wrinkled his nose when something was annoying him. He appeared to be attempting to burn holes through the glass with how intently he stared at the bears — trying to discern why this was such a big deal to you. Your terrifying mafioso boyfriend took on the appearance of a grumpy cat.
You wanted to kiss him. Everywhere.
So that was exactly what you did.
"Hey—O-Oi!" Chuuya exclaimed when you attacked him; leaning up on your toes to pepper his face with dozens of fluttering kisses. His hands came to your waist, firm but surprised, stabilising the both of you in case you toppled him over. His little noise of surprise mellowed into a boyish chuckle. He tugged you gently at the waist, pulling his face from yours, but still keeping close, still sharing the same whisper. "Where's all this eagerness comin' from? You seemed pretty satisfied this morning, from what I can recall."
The memories of him waking up next to you in your one-bedroom apartment rushed through you; a flash of wicked blue eyes and slow, sleepy heights of pleasure. You knew there was blush rushing to your cheeks — because Chuuya's eyes flickered down to them.
He grinned.
You rolled your eyes, not helping how you mirrored it.
"I hate you." It came chasing a chuckle.
Chuuya arched one of his sharp brows. "Oh?" He challenged, and then swooped down to trap you against his body. Leaning back, he lifted you into the air, spinning softly. "You'd never make it in the mafia, baby doll. Such a shit liar.
"Okay, okay. I think we're getting off topic." You said when he set you back down again, although kept a hand hovering a the small of your back. Instinctively, you leaned back into it, finding his touch familiar. "If I held a gun to your head and told you to pick, what one would you choose?" You asked, facing the bears again.
Chuuya snorted. "First, I'd call ya stupid for pointin' a gun at someone who manipulates gravity."
"Chuuya."
"Fine, the yellow one. It's less... annoyin', to look at."
"I'll take it." You smiled, then leaned up to place a chaste kiss on his lips. Or, what you had meant to be chaste. But just as you shifted to move away, your unpredictable General boyfriend seemed to have other ideas; his slender fingers slid into your hair and tilted your head back, deepening what was supposed to be a thank you into something that screamed don't stop. His other hand snaked around your waist, pulling you into him against his body made of pure honed muscle and bone.
And the wicked man was smiling when he pulled away from you. You were dazed, gripping onto his leather coat, blinking the haze from your eyes when you refocused them.
"Don't mention it." He purred, and you almost contemplated leaning back into him. You opted to huff instead.
"What'll I do with you?" You murmured, ribbons of tease in your slightly hoarse voice.
Chuuya's expression became bemused, asking if you really wanted him to answer that question. You loved this silly back and forth that came so easily between you two. Free flowing and endless; how your relationship was strengthen by the fact you were both each other's best friend as much as one true desire. The heated moments always came with a parry, a joke, a nibble at your ticklish spot that made you howl. Like now — as mirth danced in his eyes, something quick-witted brewing behind them.
But as a few quiet seconds ticked by; that mirth darkened. It became something heavier and pondering.
You tilted your head slightly. "Chuuya?"
The corners of his lips battled against a frown. "Can I ask ya somethin'?" He asked, suddenly a little more serious.
"Of course — anything."
"Why won't ya tell me when your birthday is?"
The question caught you rather off-guard. It was not too far off the topic of today's little shopping trip; to buy your best friend a birthday present — and yet it still struck you all the same. You froze against him. Chuuya must have noticed, because the muscles in his cheek ticked when he clenched his jaw. Fuck, he hated upsetting you. He hated being the reason that anything but love and joy crossed your expression. But here you were — looking at him in a panic, like he just unholstered the gun at his hip and pointed it your way.
Despite his protective nature singing in his ears — telling him to just drop it, to bring it up some other time — Chuuya stood his ground. If there was one thing he couldn't bear other than hurting you, it was you closing down and hurting yourself.
Chuuya was quiet, levelling you with his expectant eyes. You could feel the bottom of your stomach falling through. Why now — why was he suddenly asking you this? Where was this even coming from? You bit your lip, a wall coming up and trying to wedge itself between you both — not that you wanted to push him away. But it was a reflex, a defence mechanism, ingrained into your brain since you were a small child.
You shook your head. "I just—can we not do this, Chuuya?"
"Can we not do this?" He repeated. You thought there was a hint of hurt edging his voice, but if there was, it was gone in a heartbeat. "Baby," He pushed, taking a step forward when you tried to pull away. "I get it if somethin' shitty happened, but at least tell me that — you don't owe me anythin', but I can't stand seeing the nightmares in your eyes, doll. It kills me when I don't know why."
Memories flooded up into your mind — hazy and distant now after so much time had passed, but they still stung enough to make you flinch. There were shouts and arguments, there was banging, there was your hands covering your ears to try and block them out. It was almost as if your were back there cowering in the corner of your room, rocking back and forth, and you instinctively tried to reach up to cover your ears.
But the air wasn't stuffy and stagnant — here, in the present, it was warm. It smelled like cherry blossoms and expensive leather gloves. You edged back into your surroundings by the soft brush of a thumb tracing your cheekbone. You weren't aware of the trails of wet tears that had fallen down your face until a light spring breeze brushed passed.
Chuuya didn't move an inch — catching every tear that tumbled down your cheeks. He held himself so still, so composed, because hell if he didn't want to demand every little detail about the asshole that hurt you that bad so he could pay them a kindly visit. He bit down on the inside of his cheek until copper sang on his tongue. But he couldn't startle you, he couldn't break your progress when you had been coaxed out from that awful place you locked yourself up inside. He just kept wiping your wet cheeks, not letting any of the tears fall.
"Talk to me." Chuuya whispered after a few pregnant seconds.
Talk to me, you repeated, letting it wash through your body and soothe the heartache hollowing out your chest. You were no longer back there, alone and afraid, you were here. With the love of your life. And you could trust him, you could lean on him as you would tell him to lean on you.
A long, rattling sigh left your lips. You leaned into one of his palms. "Sorry, I—" You chuckled, not really understanding why. "I'm sorry for worrying you."
"Don't be stupid—"
"But I did." You cut across him. "I guess, I haven't really healed from what I went through back then. I don't know... how to tell people things. Instead I just shove them down and expect you not to notice. Not a very fool-proof plan, huh?" Your lips kicked up into a watery smile.
Chuuya was patient; he cradled your face in the palm of his hand and placed his other on your hip, drawing soothing circles. He waited for you. You took a few heavy sighs before gathering the courage to push past years of pain and continue.
"I—I've always hated celebrating my birthday. Most of the memories I have from them were always unhappy, always full of pain, so I—I guess I never wanted you to find out about it. I don't know why, because I know out of all people you wouldn't judge me, but, I don't know—I—"
"Shh, it's okay." Chuuya cooed. "You don't need to explain yourself to me, baby." He then tugged at your waist to pull you into his chest, and you went willingly. Folding yourself into his embrace with your head tucked underneath his chin. He kissed the crown of your head and murmured into your hair, "Just wish you told me sooner. You've been carryin' all that 'round, huh?"
You hummed. Snuggled into his warmth and familiar scent a little more, drinking it in greedily.
"I underestimated how perceptive you were."
"Oi."
You giggled wetly. "Just kidding."
The both of you remained like that for quite some time. Uncaring of the curious onlookers passing by or those who slinked through the storefront doors. It was just the two of you; in a separate pocket of reality where time stood still. You knew there were old wounds on your heart that would take long to heal — some spearing so deep they would even leave scars. But you had found your person; the safe space that let all your thoughts go quiet after a long day.
And maybe that was enough.
The love you shared, the trust, it would be enough. It was enough.
"Can I guess?" Chuuya said through the peaceful quiet.
"Hmm?"
"April 10th."
"Excuse me?"
"April 11th."
"Are you trying to guess my birthday—?"
"May 1st!"
And he was absolutely not a man to back down, either. It was so silly, but true to his word, Chuuya threw out every random date that popped into his head instead of simply asking you. He kept guessing until he made tears smart your eyes from laughter. Until he went through every single month of the year before finally landing it right.
"First try." He gloated — evidently exhausted — sending you into another fit of laughter once more. "Shit. I better get to work, then."
"You—oh!"
Chuuya had swooped you up into an easy bridal hold right in the middle of a busy Yokohama street. You shrieked, half in glee, half mortified at all the pairs of eyes magnetised your way. Chuuya brushed them all off as he began to walk down the street; intent on carrying you all the way to wherever he wished to kidnap you off to.
"Work to do for what?" You asked against the side of his face.
Your criminal boyfriend with a heart of gold when it came to you turned to meet your eyes. There was a mischievous little twinkle in them you adored him for.
"Because I'm about to make this year's birthday the best you've damn well ever had, princess. And I ain't got long to prepare."
✎ . . . requested by wonderful nonnie!
WRITING REQUESTS
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valentines day with yoongi
✮⋆˙ warning : some language + i haven’t written in half a year so.
✮⋆˙ this is an “x reader” so yk insert gender <3
✮⋆˙a.n : so todays valentine’s day (its the 13th at 11:59 posting this, great job me :3). so happy valentines i guess. i’m spending it celebrating jaehyun's birthday and writing abt my husband who’s in the war. i haven’t written in like, six years (six months) so pls go easy on me
✮⋆˙enjoy loves <3333 happy valentines day !!
i never liked valentine’s day. it was always a stupid ass holiday if i do say so myself. am i saying that bc i never had a good valentine ? …maybe so, why are you so nosy ?? anyways, that was before i met him, min yoongi. i never met a man who says he hates a holiday so much but also goes all out for it. our first valentines last year i expected him to not really get me anything or like a bouquet of flowers since it wasn’t that much…i got a bouquet alright, like seven of them (he had said he didn’t know which one i would like so he just got me all of the ones he thought i would want), plus a shit ton of chocolate and just little things like one of his hoodies and this ring i had been eyeing for like months beforehand. so much for “valentines day isn’t really my thing” right ? all men do is lie, even min yoongi.
okay but anyways, here we are now, a year later. i wanna prove myself this year, i refuse to be out-valentines’d by him, no matter what that takes. now just one problem, he’s rich, i work at a coffee shop. shit, i know right ? but we will make it work i don’t care.
so have i had this planned out for the last two months like a gta heist ? yes. but i NEED this day to go perfect. did it ? NO. NO IT DIDNT. first the necklace i got him with his name won’t be ready until the 17th, and then the kiss hoodie i was working on for him GETS BLEACHED SPILLED ON HIM, curtesy of our cat, johnny, and then; if it wasn’t going awful anyway, the cupcakes i made for him burned. and i’m going to his studio as we speak…this is my thirteenth reason. so right now all we have is his favorite flowers, a bleached hoodie with my kisses and a book of poems i wrote for him, sigh. SIGH. and if it didn’t help, he already gave me half of my gift before he left and it’s ten times better. A ROSE GOLD NECKLACE, he got me a rose gold encrusted with the sun because “i’m the sun to his moon”, he makes me wanna bash my head sometimes from how sweet he is.
so getting to his studio, the definition of “shaking in my little boots”. i can hear him practicing his music from outside his studio, it’s like walking into beethoven working on smth if beethoven was your 30 year old idol boyfriend for a kpop group, if that makes sense, which is doesn’t so. anyways, i put in the code for his studio (it’s our anniversary, excuse me while i cry.) and quietly walk in to not disturb him, which isn’t that hard since he has tunnel vision as he invented it, and quietly tap his shoulder gently to get his attention. he turns around, taking off his headphones and noticing me with a small smile on his face, which might as well have been a kiss from him then and then.
“hey love, happy valentine’s day, what are you doing here ?”, god why does he have to have such a perfect voice; it’s like he doesn’t even have to try. i go on to give him to give him his gift and try to explain that i had much more to give him and i knew it wasn’t enough to give and- and he cuts me off. good job if i do say so myself because the yapping i do, i could win a medal.
“honey honey, this is perfect…you didn’t even have to get me anything, and you wrote me poems…that’s like writing me a song, this means the world to me. you remembered my favorite flowers, and this hoodie..i don’t think i’ve ever gotten a gift like this from anyone before, not even the guys. thank you so much…”, and my heart just turns into a puddle then and there. all my worries gone in a second, how does he do it ? he really should’ve become a therapist in another life, but i guess he does that with his music. but anyways, did i expect him to like the gift ? absolutely not. i did try to pay for dinner that night and he still didn’t let me do it, saying it was “an extra gift” as if i needed anymore gifts. remind me next to try and not outgift a rich idol who’s secret love language is definitely gift giving.
i’m still getting next years gifts ready anyways. i’m so winning next year, i don't care.
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Lali🥺🫰🏼
pretty please with the cherry on the top could we get an Alejandro Vargas x f!reader version of that Philip fic with wanting a baby?? 🖤
un bebé
COD - Alejandro Vargas x fem!reader
[18+]
wc: ~ 900
masterlist
warnings: NSFW, no use of Y/N nor too many details on reader’s appearance, reader can sit on Alejandro's lap and he can pick up their hips, some proofreading, use of “daddy”, breeding kink, unprotected sex, mentions of ovulation (very brief), mentions of oral (f! receiving)
a/n: update as of 02/14/24 - i went ahead and updated and i am in the process of editing some of my first works (pre NOV 2023) because they were written in past tense and I now write in present tense. i'm sorry if this affects your reading and if you liked it but in all honesty i was so close to deleting these works because it annoyed me in how it was written. not much or any of the story should be changed, just the tense it was written in. much love to all of you, thank you for reading and interacting with me 🤍🤍🤍
“Mi amor, fuck!”
Alejandro’s teeth scrape your shoulder. Your ass up and face down, Alejandro’s big body curved into your back while he fucks you from behind. Another orgasm washes over you and you bite your knuckles from the pressure. You can feel yourself squeeze around Alejandro’s cock, his movements becoming sloppy. He doesn’t cum, slowing down to short strokes.
Earlier today, he begged you to lie face down on the bed to “taste you better.” You of course said yes, not able to deny him anything when he looked at you with those big, brown eyes. Alejandro placed one hand on your tailbone to keep you from moving while he used his tongue and thick fingers to make you gush on his face.
Your hands clawed the bed sheets and your teeth bit into the pillow. He’d come up for air just to tell you how pretty you looked and how this was the perfect position to give you un bebé. You’d only moan in response, too limp to say anything. [a baby]
Now, you're shaking from overstimulation. Alejandro covers your back in stinging bites while you feel the warm drag of his gold chain. He brings a hand up to palm your throat, thumbing the chain he gifted you on your birthday. The pillow under your stomach is soaking with your juices and giving Alejandro the perfect angle to kiss your cervix with the tip of his cock.
“Por favor,” his voice husky, ”it’ll be so good.”
You giggle, even in your fucked-out state, recognizing how desperate Alejandro becomes when you're ovulating.
“They’ll have your – ungh – pretty eyes,” Alejandro groans.
Alejandro alternates speeds, slow strokes so he can memorize every ridge inside of you, to fast thrusts that have your ass bouncing on his hips. He uses both hands to grip your hips before sliding out. Half-lidded eyes glued to your core, he watches, mouth agape as strings from your glistening pussy stick to his cock.
You know he’s waiting, hoping that this time you’ll let him finish inside of you. He begs and begs while you come around his fingers or cock, but never loses himself inside of you. Alejandro always makes sure you're satisfied before having you kneel in front of him and finish in your mouth or on your chest. You love him, there’s no denying it.
“Alejandro?” you ask.
“Sí, mi amor?”
“Can you lie down on the bed for me?”
He does as you ask, groaning from how tight and sore his entire body is. He's been holding back his own release for too long. As he lies down, its your turn to appreciate his body. Alejandro looks like a god, muscular chest tanned from the sun, large thighs spread out to accommodate his heavy cock.
You move up to him and throw a leg over his hips, placing one knee on each side of him. He groans, feeling your warm hand wrap around him and tease your entrance with his length.
“Cuidado, mi amor. Or else I’m going to finish like this.” [Careful, my love]
You slowly push him in, feeling his length stretch you. Moans escape from the both of you and Alejandro’s hands move to grip your soft hips. Once you're fully seated, you bounce up and down to find a rhythm.
Alejandro closes his eyes, not wanting to look to not finish to soon. You place your hands on his chest and smile at his self control, knowing you’re going to break it soon.
“Ale,” you whine ”Ale, please look at me.”
He opens his eyes right as you give a particularly rough bounce, a whimper escaping him. His balls feel heavy and tight, close to cumming. The tip of him hits your g-spot with each thrust of you hips and tight clench of your cunt. He looks so beautiful, face fixed in pleasure so good it's almost painful, and eyes focused only on you.
“Please, Alejandro. I want you – fuck! I want you to finish inside of me,” you whine.
His eyes widen slightly, you're close enough to see his pupils dilate. Alejandro tightens his hands on your waist, stopping your movements. You squeeze around his tip and whimper, impatient with him.
“Repite lo que dijiste,” he whispers in a harsh tone. [Repeat what you said]
“I want to make you a daddy," you say, purposefully dragging the word out, "will you make me a mommy, please?”
Alejandro looks surprised for a moment, but then immediately beams at you with genuine happiness. It warms your heart to see, but the thought is jostled out of you mind as he tightens his hold on your waist and slams you straight down on his cock.
You scream from the delicious shock. All you can do is hold onto his chest as he works your hips over his cock. He can feel your juices cover his base and drip down to his balls.
“You’re gonna make me a daddy?”
“Yes, Ale, yes!”
You come, falling into his chest as your knees give out. Your whine and claw at his arms from the pleasure rolling through your body. Alejandro quickly palms your ass, plants his feet on the bed, and begins to thrust up into you.
“Mi vida, I’m – I'm close. Tell me again.”
Even in your hazy mind you understand what he’s asking.
“Come inside of me, daddy.”
He loves being able to work you like this, moving your hips in tune to his thrusts. He’s overcome with happiness. You, the love of his life, letting him give you a baby. Alejandro repeats thank you, thank you with each plunge of his hips. He cums, painting your insides.
Only until every drop is inside of you does he stop. You're both lie exhausted and sweaty on the messy bed. His hands gently rub your ass then trail to rub your lower back.
He breaks the silence first, “Te amo tanto. Thank you.” [so much]
You smile into his chest,“ I love you too.”
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Title: Seek
Series Masterlist
Pairing: Joel Miller x Divorcee! Reader
Summary: You are forced to share your hiding spot with one incorrigible cretin—Joel Miller. But, maybe that’s not so bad.
Word Count: 8,369
Warnings: 18+ Only, Fluff, Comedy, Shameless Smut, Breeding, Pre-Outbreak, Intoxication, Fluff, MINORS DNI!
A/N: a little peek at the night Joel and the Reader first got together. AKA that time Sarah played matchmaker with two grown adults. 😂 enjoy! divider is by @firefly-graphics
“Hello, neighbor.” The low, sultry drawl, makes you swallow tightly. Oh God. You’re glad your hands are stuck wrist deep in the dirt, otherwise they’d be shaking. You take a few tries to school your features into what you hope is a casual smile, and not a grimace of abject panic as you glance over your shoulder at him.
“Hey, Joel.” Your ruggedly handsome neighbor leans against the fence, folding his thickly corded forearms over the pickets. You offer him the sincerest smile you can muster. God his fucking sleeves are rolled up—you fight the urge to ruin it by sinking your teeth into your lower lip. His eyes flick down, and then back up to your face.
“You doin’ some gardenin’?” You don’t know why, but the quirk of his lips makes your stomach knot.
“Y-yeah. W-well, you know. I thought I’d get outside today, since it’s been raining so much.” You say, sticking the spade into the dirt as you turn to face him. You’re acutely aware of the mud on the hem of your yellow sundress now, and you know he must see it too. Goddammit. You feel like every time you talk to him you embarrass yourself—especially now. Nervously and out of habit, you touch your thumb to your ring finger through the gloves, feeling its absence.
Before, at least, you’d had Howard as a buffer, though Joel had never much seemed to like your husband. Ex-husband.
“Mm, yeah. Hopin’ it stays nice, you know Sarah’s birthday’s on Saturday,” He says, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against the pickets. “Comin’ up fast.”
“Oh yeah,” you say, nodding with a smile. “I’ll have to bring something over. Wait—she doesn’t do dolls anymore, right? She’s too old for that now.”
“Dolls? Damn kid’s asking me for a phone,” Joel mutters darkly, smoothing a frustrated hand down his face. “A phone.” You can’t help but laugh. “Anyway, I wanted to, you know, let you know you’re invited. Whole neighborhood is, we’ll have games and food. The works.”
“Oh, sure!” You’re not sure why you’re nervous. It’s not a special invitation, it’s open to the entire block. Still, you feel an apprehensive sort of giddiness growing in your tight stomach when he smiles at you encouragingly.
“I’d love to come, I’ll um, I’ll bake something.” You pass your tongue over your lips, and Joel’s eyes follow the movement, lingering before his eyes dart back up to yours. Imagining things. You’re definitely imagining things. You’d have to be—you’re a thirty-something year old divorcee with little to show for it other than the fixer-upper Howard had been glad to leave you. You’re not hot-single-neighbor material.
“That’ll be great.” He fixes you with another boyish smile and you hate the way your stupid stomach tightens when he does. “Sarah loves your apple crumble.” You try to hide your bashful smile behind one of your gardening gloves.
“Joel Miller, you know better than to lie to me over my own fence,” you chide, and he chuckles.
“Yes ma’am I do,” he says, winking at you as the corners of his full lips turn up underneath the mustache. “That’s why I told the truth.” You cluck your tongue at him, and begin gathering your gardening tools into the wide wicker basket you keep them in. You heft them up with a grunt, and he shakes his head.
“Looks heavy. Let me give you a hand.” Before you can protest, he’s jogging around to the spot where your fences meet, and slipping in through the open gate.
“I-I can handle it,” you protest meekly as he holds out one calloused hand, beckoning with his fingers. You step back a little defensively, hesitating. “I carried it all the way out here from the shed by myself.” Joel merely raises an eyebrow and lifts his hand a little higher.
“I know, Sugar. You’re a big girl, you can do it all by yourself,” he says in that filthy smooth baritone. “Doesn’t mean you have to.” Flustered, you let him have the basket, brushing hopelessly at your dress as you follow him to the backyard shed.
“Well, it’s just me, so,” you scurry forward to pull open the door, and you watch him place the basket on the dusty work table. You’re not much of a crafts person, beyond the occasional gardening DIY, so it’s gone mostly unused since Howard moved out.
“I’m real sorry about that, by the way,” Joel says, dusting his hands off on his jeans. The look of pity on his face makes you shift uncomfortably. “But I can’t exactly say that I’m sorry he’s gone.” You laugh. The sound is brittle. Like my marriage was.
“Don’t be.” Joel’s fingers trail across Howard’s old work-bench, leaving lines in the dust as he inspects it.
“Oh, hey,” Joel says, leaning over. He reaches underneath bench and pulls something bright yellow out from underneath it. “Speak of the devil,” he mutters. After a confused second of squinting, you realize it’s a staple-gun. “Knew he never returned this.” Your face burns with embarrassment as you pinch the bridge of your nose. The result, no doubt, of one of Howards many unfinished DIY projects, the ones you always seemed to end up cleaning up and finding space for in the basement.
“God, he’s not even here and Howard’s still embarrassing me,” you say. “I’m sorry, I would have given it back if I’d known.” You watch Joel shake his head.
“That’s not on you. Besides, I’ve got it back now, so. No harm, no foul.” He tucks it into the waistband of his jeans before stepping out of the little shed and closing the door behind him. He smiles at you again, and you swear the only thing keeping you from melting into a puddle of jelly is the force of your will alone.
“You let me know if there’s anything around the house that needs doing. You cleaned your gutters since Howard left?” He asks, and your face burns again as you hurriedly shake your head.
“N-no,” you admit. “But you really—I don’t want to put you to the trouble, Joel.”
“S’no trouble.” He says with a wink, heading for the back gate. “I’ll be by tomorrow. You’ve got a ladder, don’t you, Sugar?”
—
You’re in your pajamas when Joel shows up, bright and early. The sound of the doorbell jolts you up from the kitchen table, where you’d positioned yourself so that you could see the television through the doorway. Watching the morning news rather mindlessly while you had your coffee was your new morning routine, and though it felt a little lonely and empty, it was certainly better than screaming matches with Howard about how inadequate of a wife you were to him, so you relished it.
You realize belatedly that the tie for your robe is upstairs as you’re fumbling with the locks, pulling open the door with an exasperated Hello before you realize exactly who’s on the other side of your front door.
“Howdy, neighbor.” That southern twang—the one you don’t have—is like syrup, each syllable running smoothly into the next as it slides pleasurably into your ears. You’re sure the heat rising in your chest and neck is due to your own embarrassment as you unsuccessfully try to tug the flaps of your robe shut with one hand. It’s definitely not because Joel is looking at me funny.
“J-Joel, I—morning,” you say, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ears self consciously as you offer him an apologetic smile. “I didn’t, um. I didn’t know you’d be over so early. I thought you, um. Liked to get a, a late start in the mornings.”
“That’s true,” he says, nodding as he tucks his thumbs into his belt loops. “But I can get up for the important things.” He rocks forward on to the balls of his feet, the leather on his boots creaking. “So, Sugar, where’s that ladder?” You feel warm when he looks at you, so warm you’re surprised steam isn’t whistling out of your ears like a kettle.
“In the, um, in the shed.” You turn to head back into the house, but stop. “Do you need me to—” He meets the glance you shoot him over your shoulder with a stern lift of his brow.
“I got it. You go on and enjoy your coffee, now.” Joel tips his head at you, and then reaches forward to pat you just above your hip. “Go on. Scoot.”
The screen door swings shut behind you as you turn smartly to do as you’re told, and it’s only when you’re two steps into the kitchen that you realize your hip is still warm from where he touched you. You shiver.
Joel’s just friendly.
You repeat that back to yourself dozens of times as you shower, dress, and ready yourself for the day. It’s embarrassing, but you don’t have much to do now that you don’t have Howard to pick up after. Stay-at-home-wife was just another word for nanny to him, and now, five years into your marriage and ten months post divorce, you’re still struggling to find a way to fill your time. You can live off the alimony, sure, but you want something more meaningful to do, even if it doesn’t pay much.
Joel is still up on the roof by the time you come back downstairs, but you aren’t down there long before you hear him tapping at the kitchen window. You unlock the back door, and the sight of Joel leaned up against your doorframe greets you when you open it. He’s busy toeing off his muddy workboots, but he glances up at you with a lopsided smile.
“Mind if I clean off? I’ve got to head to the site after this.”
“Totally, sure, um, you remember where the bathroom is?” You ask, and he nods.
“Down the hall to the right, innit?” He asks over his shoulder, and you nod. His arms and cheek are splattered with the same muck that you assume has been clogging your gutters, and you feel even guiltier knowing he has to head to his actual job after this. Where are my manners? You ask yourself guiltily, hurrying to fetch a glass from the cabinet. You don’t have any food you can offer him, but you go for the peach iced tea in the fridge and pour him a tall glass. He’d come over and done hard work for you, and you hadn’t even offered him something to drink.
Shameful, your grandmother’s shrill voice hisses at you through your memories. Just shameful. No wonder you couldn’t keep a man. With your teeth set into your bottom lip, you head for the hallway, intending to head Joel off before he gets to the front door.
You aren’t expecting to crash headlong into him.
“Shit!” You curse as cold tea splashes against your chest and the glass in your fingers tumbles to the rug. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t get you, did I?” You look guiltily up at Joel and your heart seizes in your chest. He’s shirtless in your hallway, his face and chest damp and his t-shirt balled up in one fist. Logically, you know it’s because he obviously can’t go to work covered in gutter-crap, but you can’t think about that now, not when you’re following the happy trail starting at his belly button all the way down the waistband of his pants and God fucking dammit I’m staring like a creep—
“No, Sugar. All dry,” he laughs, interrupting the rambling chain of your thoughts. “Can’t say the same for you.” He gestures down at your shirt before shrugging into his own. “Was that sweet tea?” Joel asks, a mournful note in his voice.
“Yes—let me get you another glass,” you say quickly, bending over to pick up the fallen glass before you rush back into the kitchen. Clumsy, stupid—you put it carefully in the sink before fetching a fresh cup from the cabinet, and you fill that one too. “Joel, I—oh.” You turn to call him into the kitchen, only to find him right behind you. His smile is slow syrup the way his voice is, and you find yourself feeling like a knock-kneed teenager at the sight of it.
“That for me?” Joel asks, and you nod wordlessly, unable to form words around the hot lump of embarrassment that forms in your throat. “Thank you, Sugar,” he purrs, plucking the glass from your limp fingers. “I was powerful thirsty.” He tips his head back, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob beneath the scruff of his beard as he swallows.
You’re grateful for the refrigerator against your back, because you know you’d slide right down to your tasteful linoleum tiles in a heap without it when he lets out a satisfied moan. He swipes the back of his hand across his mouth, and then chases the stray droplets with his tongue.
“Should bring a whole pitcher of that by the house when you come by on Saturday. Folks’ll go crazy for it.”
Your brain is still short circuiting from his closeness, the smell of his cologne, the sight of his tanned, perfect chest—so you just nod dumbly, your lips slightly parted as you stare. Closing mouth in three, two, one—
“Uh, um. Yeah. Tea.” Jesus fuck, why is my mouth so dry? You stumble over the words, feeling like there are a hundred glass marbles in your mouth as you try to pronounce them properly. “So, um. Saturday?”
“Saturday.” Joel hands you back the glass, and winks. “Don’t drop it this time.” He pauses in the doorway, tapping his hand against the frame a few times. “And you’ll let me know when I can come by to cut that grass, wontcha, Sugar? Needs mowin’.”
I absolutely will not. “Sure thing. I-I mean, you don’t have to, really—”
“Just bein’ neighborly is all,” he calls over his shoulder as the screen door swings shut behind him. You watch the top of his head go by the kitchen window before you slump against the refrigerator.
“Neighborly.” You mutter in disbelief, pinching the bridge of your nose. You make your way back upstairs to change your shirt—the tea is starting to get sticky against your skin.
—
By the time Saturday rolls around, you’ve almost talked yourself completely out of attending.
You should not be this nervous about am eleven year old’s birthday party, you chastise yourself, shifting from foot to foot as you wait for someone to answer the door. There’s music coming from the backyard, and you can smell food, and the charcoal from the grill. You step back a little as the door opens, and you’re both surprised and relieved to see it isn’t Joel. And you’re glad for it, considering you’ve been studiously avoiding him.
Sarah greets you with a friendly smile, waving you inside. “Mrs. Leeman, hi!” She closes the door behind you. “Thank you for coming! You didn’t have to do that,” she says, gesturing at the covered apple crumble and sealed jug of peach tea in your hands. Sarah moves to take one from you, and you hand over the jug gratefully. “But this is way better than the cake uncle Tommy got. He went to Penny Saver.”
You laugh. “You’re welcome. I wasn’t exactly sure what to get you,” you admit, “but your dad said you’ve been wanting a phone?” You ask, and she rolls her eyes, starting towards the kitchen. You’ve only been here once or twice, to use the bathroom the few times Howard had deigned to take part in any neighborhood festivities. She sets the jug on the table.
“Ugh, yeah. But he says I’m too young.”
You lean in conspiratorially. “Well, how about I join team get Sarah a phone and try to help convince him, huh?” Carefully, you place the crumble on the table. “I’ll pay for your first month.”
Sarah’s eyes brighten. “Really? Yeah, oh my God that might actually work! Thanks, um, Mrs. Leeman. And for the crumble too, I asked special.”
“Just ‘Ms’, now,” you say with a little laugh. Sarah’s smile widens a little, turning up at the corners like she knows something you don’t know. And it isn’t Leeman anymore, either.
“Oh, right. I’m sorry,” she says, and you can tell she’s really trying to pour on the sincerity. She’s good—but she’s not that good. “I forgot you’re single now.” You quirk an eyebrow.
“Yeah?” You answer slowly. “Kind of a weird way to put it, but yes?” You chalk it up to teenage awkwardness, watching amusedly as Sarah plucks the candles out of the admittedly generic cake Tommy bought, and presses them into the crumble instead.
“Everybody’s outside,” she chirps, wiping her hands off on her jeans. “Uncle Tommy, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, my dad,” she adds. “You should totally go say hi.” Casting another suspicious glance at Sarah, you make your way over to the back door. Once your eyes adjust to the bright summer sun, you see that Joel’s backyard is chaos; every kid in the neighborhood is there, along with most of the families in your corner of the cul-de-sac.
You pretend you don’t immediately spot Joel on the grill, his sleeves rolled up as he chats with his brother. You’ve only met Tommy once or twice and only in passing, but you remember him just fine. Your eyes meet, and he leans over, elbowing Joel. He says something too, but you’re too far away to hear it. Joel begins to turn around, and you hurriedly busy yourself at the punch bowl.
God, this is pathetic. You berate yourself as you spoon out punch into a little paper cup. Just say hi, you stupid idiot. You feel stupid and giddy around Joel, like a middle-schooler with her first crush only worse, because you’re two decades past the expiration date on this behavior. Not to mention he’s your neighbor.
And God knows you aren’t the best at reading signals—it had taken you years to realize that your marriage, your relationship, was dead in the water. Joel isn’t interested, he can’t be. At most, you assume he feels a sort of half hearted pity for you. I’m like the one-eyed cat at the shelter.
“Hey there Judy, thanks for comin’.” You hear Joel’s voice behind you, and you tense—He’s coming this way. You chance a glance over your shoulder and swallow audibly. He’s making a beeline right for you. Is it too late to go back inside? You know the thought is futile, it’s most certainly far too late for that.
“Hi, I mean, you know, welcome to the party,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets after an awkward moment of holding them out, almost like he was going to hug you and then thought better of it.
“Yeah, Sarah was…enthusiastic about the cake.” You’re trying to think of a word to describe her weird behavior. “Maybe a little too much,” you laugh a little. Joel shakes his head and mutters something under his breath you can’t quite make out—“damn kid sticking her nose in where it doesn’t—” Before he shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Kid’s a mystery to me sometimes,” he replies with a huff. He squints, like he’s looking for her in the crowd. You follow his line of sight right to Sarah, laughing with her friends.
“She’s a good one.”
“Lord knows,” Joel sighs. “I was raising hell at her age.” He turns back to you. “I’m really glad you could make it.” His smile is so bright you’re forced to look somewhere else, for fear of going weak in the knees.
“N-no problem. I’m, um, I’m happy to get out of the house,” you admit. “I’ve been kind of… I don’t know. Bored? Since Howard left.” You look down at the punch cup in your hands. “Is that weird? I don’t miss him or anything, I just… I guess I never realized how much time he was taking. Wasting.” You shake your head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t—”
“No, no, please,” Joel looks at you almost imploringly. “I don’t mind.” He leans against the table behind you. “I’ve been there. Losing yourself is surprisingly easy. It’s the finding yourself after that’s hard.”
“Yeah,” you nod. “Yeah, exactly.”
“Listen I—”
“Joel, you wanna serve burnt burgers or what?” Tommy calls from the grill, pointing at the thick smoke curling up from it. Joel curses.
“Dammit, Tommy—I’ll be right back.”
He’s surprisingly easy to talk to, and you swallow back the unexpected disappointment at the interruption. It’s probably a good thing though, you think to yourself as you spy Tricia Gibbins, also newly divorced, eyeing you with a scowl.
You offer her a weak smile in response, before turning back to your drink. Joel’s a hot commodity, and you know you’re not the only single woman in the neighborhood with eyes. Joel has an easy sort of confidence about him, the kind that comes from working with your hands and being good at it. The kind that isn’t unearned.
As Joel averts the crisis at the grill, you mingle. Chatting up the neighbors you haven’t really seen since the divorce. It’s awkward at first, but you get over that quickly enough. It’s oddly comforting, feeling like you’re part of the community at large again, instead of the weird shut-in with the mean husband. Oddly, Joel keeps finding reasons to be close to you, joining in the conversations you’re having as he sidles up next to you, offering to refresh your drink each time you finish it. And when he brings out the crumble from the kitchen—much to Tommy’s chagrin—he thanks you specifically for providing it, and your cheeks heat as you duck your head, embarrassedly enduring the round of applause that follows.
If Gibbins didn’t hate me already, she definitely does now.
You help cut and serve it, trying to ensure each partygoer at least has the option of having a piece. As Sarah wolfs down her piece after blowing out her candles, she and her friends share a conspiratorial look.
“We were thinking of playing a party game, dad,” she says, cocking her head at him. “Kids versus grown-ups.” Joel takes a sip of his beer, cocking his head skeptically.
“And what game would that be, young lady?”
“Manhunt! Come on, dad, please? Everyone really wants to play!” Sarah gestures eagerly at the gaggle of kids behind her, pushing and shoving and giggling nervously as the adults look them over. Sarah rocks excitedly back and forth on her tip-toes as her father debates it. Sarah looks at you imploringly.
“Please? Last game of the night, I promise! You’ll play, won’t you?”
“Ah hell,” Tommy curses, finishing his beer before slinging the empty bottle into the trash-can by the picnic table. “Why not? Used to play this all the time growin’ up.” He casts a nostalgic look at Joel before elbowing Sarah conspiratorially. “Every summer I used to whoop your daddy’s—”
“No lying to the girl on her birthday, Tommy,” Joel replies with a chuckle, and you laugh too. “Fine then. Who all’s playin’?” Hands go up, all across the yard, and Joel nods as he takes stock of them. Howard would have insisted on leaving right about now, your charitable appearance over and done with. But Howard isn’t here to make the decision for you, and you find yourself raising your own hand, too. Perhaps it’s the warm buzz of the beer settling into your stomach making you foolish, but it’s a warm summer evening and you feel… good.
“Ground rules—nobody leaves the block, understand? No hidin’ in strangers yards.” Joel delivers the rules sternly. “
“We were thinking… we’ll seek. Time limit?” Sarah asks, suddenly all business as she leans back to consult her friends, now apparently her war-council.
“Thirty minutes.” Joel replies, holding out his hand. Sarah shakes it exaggeratedly, grinning at him. She holds up two fingers, gesturing between the two of them. “And you’ve got to find everybody to win.”
“Yeah, yeah, old man,” She calls over her shoulder as she jogs toward her friends. “You’re going down!” They’re all clustered around the side of the house, some of them already counting. You’re already thinking of the perfect hiding place, where the rosebushes meet on the left side of your porch—it’s impossible to see from the sidewalk. The participating adults are already splitting up, heading in different directions to try and outlast their children.
Giggling, you hurry back across the street, casting a suspicious glance around before you duck down behind your rosebushes. It’s silly, you know, but… it feels good too. Like you’re actually enjoying yourself instead of pretending to. Howard never would have approved of this—These are children’s games, come on—but he isn’t here, and you don’t need him to. The thought makes you practically giddy; Howard is gone, gone!
And he isn’t coming back.
You lean back against the porch, ducking lower as you hear the sound of approaching voices. As you reach back to steady yourself, your hand brushes against another. You gasp, loudly, and whirl around to see Joel, looking equally surprised. It looks like he’s come around from the opposite side of the house, staying low underneath the roses, just like you. You open your mouth to speak, but he holds up a finger, pointing behind you.
“I heard something! I think one of the grown-ups is hiding over here.” You wait with baited breath to be discovered, but the gangly teenager on the other side of the bush doesn’t come all the way up the porch steps, stopping halfway.
“Whatever, I don’t see anybody. Let’s look by the Simmons’ place!”
The sound of your gravel crunching under sneakers gradually recedes, and you let out a heavy sigh of relief.
“Sorry. I didn’t know you were there,” you whisper apologetically, and Joel laughs.
“Well you know. Great minds, and all that.” He scoots closer. “Do you mind? I can risk finding another spot if you do.”
“No, no,” you say, shaking your head. Maybe it’s the beers, making you foolishly confident, but you… want him to stay. “There’s room enough for the two of us.”
“You’re damn right there is,” Joel replies. “Grass is tall enough that we could stand in it.” You pretend to be shocked, raising a cartoonishly offended hand over your heart.
“Oh, is that how it is, Miller?” You ask. “You come over here, barge into my hiding spot, and then insult my grass? I’m pretty sure them’s fighting words, around here at least.” He edges closer, close enough that when he settles down into a sitting position, his thigh presses against yours.
“It’s almost calf high, Sugar,” he says seriously. “That’s dangerous.” You try to look sufficiently scared, and Joel smothers a laugh behind one hand.
“Danger? Here?” You bring a hand to your cheek. “How dangerous are we talking?” He fixes you with a serious look, brows knitting together as he presses his full lips into a tight line.
“Very dangerous. Trip and falls, termites, biting ants—you know. Just to name a few things.” Joel is handsome, not a fact you’re unfamiliar with. But up this close… You can see the beginnings of salt and in his thick black hair, how his warm brown eyes are flecked with gold and green, the cinnamon spice of his breath—Fireball, he was drinking Fireball—
And how soft his lips are when they brush against yours.
You’re not sure how long it takes you to realize that you’re kissing Joel Miller. Later, when you look back, you’ll realize there’s a gap in your memory, a skip, a blank space spanning from the moment his hip pressed against yours until you feel the warmth of his hand on your hip through your jeans. It’s a chaste thing, a simple press of his mouth to yours, but the realization of what’s happening makes you gasp, pulling away. For once, you’re speechless, the nervous ramble that usually accompanies these moments is notoriously absent.
Of course it’s Joel that speaks first.
“I been waitin’ to do that for six months.” He breathes. And then he leans forward, gently brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, and does it again. You release your death-grip on the latticework beneath the porch, and instead tangle your fingers in Joel’s t-shirt. He mumbles something against your lips that you don’t understand before deepening the kiss, sweeping his tongue into your mouth as you sigh against him. Joel tastes like cinnamon whiskey, hops, and faintly of tobacco—likely from the cigarette you’d seen him bum from Tommy in secret earlier.
He tastes so good you could cry. Like beer and warm summer evenings, like catching lightning bugs in jars. He tastes exactly like you thought he would.
When you part, you’re both panting, staring wild-eyed at one another as the rest of the world filters back in. Joel lets out a little laugh, resting his forehead against yours. You like how he smells, too, sandalwood and leather.
“Six months is a long time,” you say after a minute, and he laughs. Somehow, you feel both validated and incredibly stupid at the same time. “And here I thought you felt sorry for me.”
“I did, being married to that prick,” he scoffs. “I hung over that fence every other day for six months, and you never thought—?”
“No! I thought, you know, you… really wanted to mow my grass.” You answer defeatedly, and this time Joel’s booms in your ears so loud you fear the children will discover you. You laugh too, and when he pulls you close to kiss you a third time, you lean into it, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders as he pulls you practically into his lap. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you card fingers through his thick hair. You’re glad you’re sitting down, because the answering husky moan he releases would have brought you to your knees.
“Dad! Thirty-minutes!” The sound of Sarah’s voice shocks the two of you apart, and you scramble off of Joel, your cheeks burning. You peek through the rose bushes, pulling aside a bud to see Sarah, standing in the middle of the street. You snicker at the sight of her. She and her friends seem to have already rounded up the other adults, and, armed with water-guns, are escorting them back to the party. You can see that Tommy’s wet, and you wonder if he tried to outrun them.
“Time’s up,” she calls. “You guys win!”
“You stay here. I’ll go first.” Joel says with a wink. “I’ll see you back at the party, okay? And we’ll finish this… discussion.” He licks his lips.
You nod, not trusting your voice not to give out on you. You watch as Joel gets a very rules-illegal squirting with Sarah’s supersoaker, and you’re glad he took the bullet for both of you as they head into the backyard. Once you’re sure no one else is really watching, you creep out, brushing stray bits of grass and twigs from your clothes. Your face still feels warm, your lips tingling where Joel’s had met them.
There isn’t much “party” left when you let yourself in through the side gate, people cleaning up with trash bags. You begin helping, clearing the tables of plastic cutlery and paper plates. There isn’t really time to talk, not really. Every time he begins to, something, someone, needs his attention. As you’re tossing bags into the trash bin, Tommy comes up behind you with another load. You hold the lid open for him, and he ducks his head gratefully.
“Thanks. So, you and my brother, huh? Manhunt neighborhood champs.” He grins at you, and you feel your face heat.
“In my defense, it was my hiding spot first.”
“That tracks.” He laughs. ”And I’m not mad, even though you dethroned my cake.”
You grin. “Sorry. I was asked.” It’s easy to see that Tommy and Joel are related, you think as you chat. They have the same easy way of moving, the same slow drawl. You think of the way his lips felt against yours again and your face warms. It had felt so right to do in that moment, but now you can’t help but wonder if it had been a mistake.
“He’s droppin’ Sarah off at her friend’s place,” Tommy says suddenly. “In case you were wonderin’.” His knowing look makes you wish the earth would open right up and swallow you into the resulting abyss. It doesn’t though, and you are forced to shoot Tommy a painfully embarrassed smile instead.
“I, um. Thanks.” You tuck your hands into your pockets to stop their nervous twitching. Somehow, this feels like a higher-stakes interaction than any of the others you’ve ever had with Tommy, and you aren’t sure why.
“No problem.” Tommy dusts his hands off of his jeans. “And he’s… Stupid. My brother. But he means well.”
“I think that makes two of us.”
You finish helping clean up, hanging around the yard awkwardly until Tommy asks you if you want to wait inside. You shake your head. Joel’s probably realized his mistake by now, you think to yourself, shaking your head as you make your way back across the street. Keys in hand, you head up the steps and unlock the door. As it swings open, the blast of a car-horn makes you yelp, jumping as you press yourself against the doorframe.
Joels truck swings haphazardly into your driveway, and he’s half out of it before it even stops. He hops the little gate in front of your porch steps, taking them two at a time as he strides towards you with purpose.
“Sugar.”
“Joel, I—” There are a thousand thoughts, all jumping to reach your mouth first. You want to kiss him again, you want to run inside and hide until he leaves, you really want to kiss him again—
“I thought I told you to wait for me,” Joel says lowly, his fingers sliding through the belt loops on your jeans to tug you close against his chest. “Weren’t finished talkin’.” His mouth is against yours before you can answer, and he gratefully swallows your gasp of surprise as his tongue presses insistently at the seam of your lips. You are aware, on some level, that you’re standing on your porch, in full view of every watchful eye on your end of the street. However, your concern for your reputation is kept well in check by the feel of Joel’s hands passing hungrily over your hips.
His fingers skate up underneath the hem of your t-shirt, and you gasp at the feel of them trailing up your sides and over your belly.
“I-inside,” you say, the word muffled by his lips. You feel the corners of his mouth curl up against your cheek as Joel loops his arms underneath your thighs. You gasp as he hoists you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you inside. Joel kicks the door shut behind him before pressing you against the wall, fitting the hard planes of his body against the softness of yours. He fits so well in between your thighs, his jean-clad hips slotting against you perfectly.
You want to be ashamed at the way your hips roll into his, your heels digging into the backs of his thighs. His hand fists in your hair, tugging your head back so that he can trail his teeth and tongue down the side of your throat.
“Fuck,” he mutters, teeth catching at the shell of your ear as one hand cups your swollen cunt through your jeans. You feel like you’re on fire, heat running underneath your skin, sparking where Joel touches you. Your head is swimming, like you’re drunk on more than just a couple of beers. Your fingers tangle in the short hair at the nape of his neck, and the throaty moan Joel releases makes your pussy clench down hard around nothing.
You drop your feet to the floor as his fingers play at the button of your jeans. He’s breathing heavy, hair askew from your attentions and eyes hungry.
“We can stop if you want to,” he says, his voice strained and husky. “You say stop, we stop.” You can tell he wants to do anything but stop, his thigh wedged between yours, and the half hard weight of his cock throbbing against you through his jeans. But you can also see he means it, that he’ll turn around and walk right back to his truck if you tell him to.
You hesitate, feeling Joel’s steady breaths against your lips as he waits for your decision. This is crazy, you reason. We’ll both regret this, and it’ll be awkward and we’ll never be able to talk to each other again—But what’s crazier is that you know you want him to stay. That you’re willing to risk it.
Maybe you’ll just be crazy for tonight.
“Stay.”
Joel surges, crashing over you like a wave. His hands—God, his hands—are everywhere, tugging up the rumpled hem of your t-shirt to cup your breasts through your bra, wiggling down under the waistband of your jeans to touch whatever skin he can—
“Y’know, Sugar,” Joel’s voice is simmering honey, is burnt sugar—“I don’t think we’re gonna make it upstairs.” You don’t think so either, not with his eager fingers tugging open the button on your jeans. Not to mention that you’re pretty sure that if he stops touching you, you might actually die. You’ve never felt this before, the all encompassing need that drives you to grind down against his proffered thigh, your hands fisting in his shirt.
Definitely not making it to the bed. He kisses you again, sucking on your tongue as you feverishly work at the buttons on his shirt. You push them apart to touch his bare skin and he hums with pleasure.
He grunts frustratedly when there isn’t enough room for his huge hands in your tight jeans, tugging at them until they stick fast about halfway down your thighs. He anchors his hands underneath your hips, and you gasp as he hoists you up, taking a few wobbly steps towards the stairs.
He only makes it up three of them before he abandons the effort, setting you down. You let out a little giggle as your ass makes contact with the wood, and Joel sucks his teeth.
“Goddamn house. S’got too many stairs,” he mumbles against the side of your throat. The raspy burn of his beard against your skin is delicious as he trails kisses down your neck until he meets the collar of your shirt. “Take this fuckin’ thing off, Sugar.” Joel’s teeth tug at the fabric. He chuckles lowly when your breath catches. “Or d’you want me to do it for you?” You hurriedly tug your shirt up over your head—with Joel’s eager assistance—and his mouth crashes against yours as before it’s even cleared your hair.
Joel’s cinnamon and whiskey spiced kisses leave heat in their wake as he presses them between your breasts, pulling down the cups of your bra. He releases a pleased hum when your puffy nipples spill lewdly over the lace. The way he grins at the sight of them makes you want to combust, heat creeping up your chest and neck as he pinches them softly between his fingers. You whine, and he clucks his tongue at you, fixing you with a serious look.
“Don’t you rush me, Sugar,” he says, flicking his thumb against your nipple, and he grins when you wriggle. “Haven’t I been patient?” You’re hard pressed to disagree. His heavy lidded eyes go even darker as he laves his tongue across your nipple, and you whimper pathetically when he rolls it between his teeth.
“Yeah,” you pant as Joel taps his very patient fingers against the fleshy curve of your hip. You lift for him, and he hums with approval as he tugs them down your legs and flings them to the floor. “Practically a saint—ah, Joel!” Joel cups your pussy, clapping his hand against the fatty curve of it with a groan.
“If I were a saint, Sugar,” he drawls, pulling your panties tight until the puffy lips of your cunt pop out lewdly around them, “You know I’d never miss a day at this fuckin’ church.” He traces the shape of your swollen clit through the fabric with the rough pad of his thumb. “A-fuckin’-men.” The elastic band snaps against your skin as he pulls them off completely, your panties joining your jeans in an undignified heap at the bottom of the stairs.
Joel delivers a stinging little slap to your thigh that makes you yelp.
“Open.” You do, your cheeks burning as you spread your legs apart and let him see. He cards his fingers through his hair as a low “fuck” falls from his lips. He drags a thick, calloused finger up your slit, swirling the tip through your sopping folds. “Christ, Sugar,” he says, holding up his fingers so that you can see your own slick shining on them. You can’t look away as he lowers his head, his breath puffing across your heated skin. It’s only when he drags his tongue up your slit that your head falls back, and you curse at the ceiling.
“S’right,” he mumbles against your cunt, wrenching your legs further open. “Fuck, you taste good, baby.” Your fingers tangle in his hair, and you feel him chuckle against you before his tongue finds your clit and you loose a stream of curses and his name—
“Fuck, fuck fuck, fuck, Joel—”
“Say it, Sugar,” his beard rasps deliciously against your inner thighs. “Let ‘em hear my fuckin’ name.”
It’s impossible to think. You’re fairly certain the amount of electricity currently thrumming through you would be enough to light up a whole goddamn city. Your thighs tremble in his grip and you can’t stop the shameful push of your hips against his face. And then you’re cumming with a pitiful little whine, tears gathering in the corners of your wide eyes. Joel pulls away from you slowly, wiping at his glistening mouth with the back of his hand as he looks at you with dark, lidded eyes.
“Don’t cry yet, Sugar,” he rasps. You can’t help but stare as he looses the buttons on his jeans with nimble fingers. The heavy weight of his cock pushes insistently against the plaid fabric of his briefs before he hooks his thumb under the elastic and tugs it down too. “Oughta wait till the good part, at least.”
Oh my fucking God.
Joel Miller’s cock is thick. Like a fucking coke-can with veins. He palms it with one hand, and your traitorous cunt clenches wetly as you stare. The head is red, angry and leaking, and you find yourself with the sudden urge to swipe your tongue across it and see how he tastes. You can’t stop your eyes from following the movement as he strokes himself slowly, a low chuckle vibrating in his chest.
“Want a taste, Sugar?” He purrs, the accent dripping down every vowel. You don’t have enough working neurons left to lie, and so you nod meekly, licking your lips. “Say aah for me, baby.” You open your mouth wide, sticking out your tongue a little and he groans, balancing one hand on the bannister and the other against the wall as he leans forward. You nurse at his head, wrapping your lips around it as he thrusts slowly. You work your way down his thick, throbbing shaft, stopping when his head taps the back of your throat.
“—gotta be fucking kidding me,” you catch bits and pieces of his mumbled praise, his fingers tangling in your hair as he holds your head still, enjoying the sensation before pulling out. You wipe at the spit on your chin as Joel pumps his cock, squeezing as his head falls back.
“If I wasn’t so determined to make a mess of that pussy, Sugar, I’d let you finish.” Joel sinks down to his knees on the stairs, cupping your chin with sure fingers as he kisses you, and you taste yourself on his tongue. You’re sure that tomorrow, you will find the time to be appalled that you’re here, like this, with your neighbor—
But there is no space in your head for it now.
Now, Joel is settling himself between your thighs, the head of his cock sliding deliciously against you. And then fuck, he’s pushing inside, making your head fuzzy with that blissful, burning stretch.
“G-God,” you whimper, pressing your face against his throat, tugging at the skin there with your teeth as he seats himself all the way inside.
“Sorry, Sugar,” he mumbles the words into your hair, groaning as his heavy balls come to rest against you. “Best you got is me.” Joel draws out, taking all your air with him, before slamming back down, his hips meeting yours with a lewd squelch. You let out a choked gasp as he sinks his cock in to the base, his eyes rolling to half mast. His slow, steady pace is enough to make you see stars while your eyes are open, bright spots tattooing themselves against your retinas.
You don’t notice the hard bite of the wooden stairs into your back and the curve of your ass as you wrap your thighs around Joel’s hips. It feels so good, you’re drowning in it. In Joel. He knots a fist in the curls at the nape of your neck, tugging your head back. You let him, and are rewarded with his teeth and tongue scraping deliciously down the line of your throat.
“Where’ve you been hidin’ this pussy, Sugar?” The words are breathed hotly against the shell of your ear, followed by his teeth. “Why’d you hide her from me?” He punctuates his questions with a hard thrust that makes you bury your fingernails in the meat of his shoulder and sob. “Coulda been givin’ you your dick months ago.”
You’re not paying attention, not really, not when the white hot pleasure building at your core is all you can think about. You whine out an apology, not because you mean it, but because you think it’s what he wants to hear—and at this point, you’d tell him anything just to be able to crest the wave he’s been building inside of you. Fuck and you’re so full—
Every slow, heavy thrust punches the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping and whining as Joel takes you to pieces.
“H-holy shit,” the words stick to your lips and tongue as you struggle to get them out around the moans you keep trying unsuccessfully to swallow. It was never like this with Howard, this dizzying rush of pleasure that leaves you aching for more—begging for more, even if you’re not sure you can take it.
“P-please,” you keen, lifting your hips eagerly to meet his thrusts. “Please!”
“Please what, Sugar?” Joel asks teasingly, before dropping lis lips to yours. He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it. “I’d tell you to use your big girl words but I know you can’t right now, can you Sweetheart?”
You cum with a sob, your back arching as you dig your heels into the backs of Joel’s thighs. They buckle, and he sinks down to his knees as you feel his cock throb inside you. Joel curses into your hair, both hands gripping the lip of the stair next to your head hard enough to drive the blood from his knuckles. You lay like that for a minute, panting on the stairs as you luxuriate in the sticky, warm afterglow.
Thank God for the pill.
All you can smell is the piney scent of his aftershave, tucked against his chest like you are. For a moment, you allow yourself to bask in Joel, your face pressed against his sweat-damp skin, the feel of his pulse thrumming beneath your cheek. You don’t know why, but it makes you think of mornings. Of waking up like this, tangled up in each other, of hot coffee and quick goodbyes over rushed breakfasts, of long nights—
“You okay?” Joel asks, leaning away from you. His cheeks are flushed, and he’s wearing a dopey smile underneath his scruffy beard. He cups your cheek, and you blink it all away, squashing those thoughts back down into your subconscious where they belong. He slips from between your thighs, and you pretend you don’t feel something like a suspicious cross between longing and disappointment.
“Yeah, I’m good.” You offer him a weak smile as you sit up, wincing. There’s an ache in your back from where you’d been pressed against the stairs, and as Joel tucks himself back into his pants, he grimaces, rubbing his knee. You let out a little embarrassed laugh. “Probably should have tried harder to make it to the bed, though.”
Joel fixes you with a sly smile. “There’s still time.” Your face heats and you sputter.
“I—”
“We can just sleep,” he says, chuckling. “Scout’s honor.”
It feels too natural to lead him upstairs, dodging stray hands as you fish a towel out for him from the hall closet. He starts stripping before you’re even out of the bathroom, and when he holds out a hand to you from the shower, you take it. Joel tugs you against his chest, tucking you beneath his chin underneath the spray.
“I thought you said we could sleep?” You say, peeking up at him through your lashes, a smile playing at the edges of your lips. Joel laughs, nosing along your jawline and pressing wet kisses to the corners of your mouth.
“Well we’re not in bed yet, are we Sugar?”
the end.
for now.
Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️
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Title: Birthday boy
Paring: modern!subbish!Aemond Targaryen x dommish!reader
Synopsis: for his birthday, Aemond gets the pegging of his life
Warnings: no plot whatsoever here. Kissing, ass play, handjob, blowjob, a bit of gaping, pegging, overstimulation, prostate milking, cock ring usage, spitting, scratching, biting, titty sucking as a form of aftercare, brief mention to Aemond’s chronic pain.
A/N: reader is AFAB, no 3rd person pronouns used.
NSFW and 18+ only
You know Aemond is your soulmate, the man you’re going to marry, the future father of your children. You love him beyond words, still, you want to jump off a cliff when you have to shop for his birthday gift: the boy already owns everything his heart desires and every year you have to run around like a headless chicken to find something. Precisely for this reason, this year you’ve decided to give him not something physical, but a day for himself, where he can be the focus and decide what to do. You are not surprised when he asks to stay in bed together for the whole day, just making love.
Truth to be told, you bought him, and yourself, something: a nice, thick dildo, slighter longer and larger than the ones you two usually play with, which will make the two of you very happy, in the foreseeable future.
***
He’s waiting for you, kneeling on the bed, his naked skin glistening under the sunlight, his hair down his long back, both the eyepatch and the sapphire prosthetic are off.
His bowed head lifts when you enter the room with the package in your hands, his eye focuses on your naked skin, pink tongue darting out to lick his lips when you sit next to him.
With elegant movements he folds the wrapping, then he opens the anonymous package and a brilliant smile breaks on his face when he sees the dildo.
“Happy birthday baby”
“You’re the only gift I need”
“Baby - you kiss his cheek - open it. I am sure you’re going to like it”.
Aemond doesn’t answer, he seeks your lips for a deep kiss, one hand finding its way in your hair to keep your face close to his, his deep moans snuffed by your lips until he separates your mouths, his pupil completely enlarged to hide the iris.
“Is it for me?”
“Do you want to try it?”.
“Lie on the bed, baby, ass on the pillows”.
His eye never leaves your naked body, as he positions himself on his back, long legs spread, cock already half hard against his flat tummy, pillows hastily positioned under his arse as you take your time in wearing the harness, tightening the straps around your thighs and hooking the dildo to its place, your cunt drenched already at the wanton sight that’s your lover on the bed, his patience holding together by the lightest of threads.
It’s not the first time, and it’s not going to be the last, that he stares at your naked body unabashedly, today it’s the first time that you feel like your skin is burning with the force of his desire: wherever his eye lands, you burn, your cunt clenching around nothing, hungry for him.
Ignoring the signals your body is sending, you walk towards the bed, your hand absentmindedly stroking the dildo, Aemond's chest rising and falling faster and faster, as you approach.
"Today is your day, my love - you say, stroking his tummy, the muscles there rippling under your gentle touch - I think you deserve all the pleasure your body can muster".
Slowly you open the bedside table to get to the lube and the cock ring, Aemond bites his lower lip to stifle a moan of need; he knows you're going to torture him until his brain is complete mush, he can't wait, he needs you badly, he’s been dreaming about this for days.
His breath is harsh, your hand on his forehead, caressing the sweaty skin there, gives him a sense of security.
You don't have to say a single thing, Aemond grabs your hand to lick the palm with long, sensual strokes of his tongue that go directly to your clit, little sparks of pleasure that have you squirm on the bed, until you kiss his forehead and gently grab his half hard cock, your hand stroking the taut skin with long movements and quick clockwise motions around the head, to which he responds with prolonged moans and his hips jutting up to follow your hand, erection straining in mere seconds.
He keens when you tighten the cock ring around his base, to then start tormenting his cock with faster strokes, stopping only when his feet scramble on the bed sheets and thin fluid adorns his bulbous head.
You are kneeling by his side, your body hovering over his as you capture his lips for a sensual kiss, your tongue stroking his, his fingers scratching down your back, until they get to your hips and he tries to move you, so you would straddle him.
"What's your color, birthday boy?"
"Green - he moans - kiss me?".
"No no" you gently scold him
"It's my birthday" he pours, adorably
"Trust me baby, you're going to like this more".
"Please" he says, his hips pumping against nothing.
You take a second to observe his beautiful body. Long muscles and reddened skin to mark, deliciously dark pink nipples ready to be sucked, his cock hard and puckered hole that is begging to be violated by your fingers and strap on.
How you’ve been so lucky to land such a beautiful man?
He is enchanting, ethereal and you think, for the hundredth time, that there's so much of him, so much pleasure to bestow, and so little of you to see that the job is done.
Begging already, you think, we're going to have so much fun my love.
You kiss him again, stating your claim, subjugating his tongue to yours, while your hand scratches down his warm skin to pinch his nipples and make him moan against your lips. With your teeth you follow the path of your fingers, biting his skin gently, marking him again as yours, sucking on his delicious nipples, biting them gently, the music of his desperate moans spurring you on, guiding you to his straining, red cock. Just not yet.
Aemond grabs your wrist when you lift yourself from his body to lube your fingers, his eye desperate with hunger, your spoiled baby.
His breath hastens under your sight as he sees how accurately you are lubing your fingers, knowing you are doing it to torture him.
“I’m ready” he says, back arching enticingly
“Good things come to those who wait, sweetheart”.
Hungry you attack his cock, your tongue licking the salt from the burning skin, following the thick vein on the underside with your lips, your index gently breaching him, knuckle after knuckle, your lips sucking his heavy balls and he whines like a wounded animal when you slowly add your middle and ring finger, one after the other, pushing against his prostate, his hips lifting from the bed to follow the warmth of your mouth. You let him guide the movements of your lips with his hand in your hair, to push you down his length and you swallow him, tightening your throat and he screams desperate when you scissor him, making his hole gape.
You switch between sucking him without pity and kissing his tummy and balls, while your fingers push against his prostate, until thin fluid leaks from his tip, his hips moving mindlessly, pushing your fingers even deeper inside his hungry ass and he screams, pleasure and pain zinging up and down his spine.
You give him seconds to catch his breath, before lubing the dildo as your fingers spread his hole to torment him, make him wail, high pitched in his throat, eyes scrunched, feet skidding on the bed when you grab his cock again to jack him while you breach him, ass slowly accepting your invasion until you bottom out and he whines, pathetically.
His hips try to follow yours when you start pushing in and out, slowly, making him feel every inch of the new dildo, your hand around his cock going faster, drool seeping out of his mouth when he moans at the double sensation, until pleasure hits him again.
The dildo is still deep inside of him, your hips barely grinding against his, before your hands grab his thighs to anchor yourself when you start to move, slow strokes aiming at opening him up even more, his legs curling around your hips, him wanting to feel you as deep as possible, to fuse you two in one, to feel you for days. He comes with a long moan, hands grabbing at your arms to pull you towards him, lips seeking yours, hungry for your taste, needing your ownership over him, the only reason he’s still a functioning human being.
When your lips disconnect, he stares at you, eye slightly unfocused by pleasure. You are so beautiful, skin glistening with sweat, your chest rising and falling fast with exertion: he can’t help but to get drunk on your scent, on the musk of sex in the room, on your enticing body. He could spend hours just staring at you, imagining the way he could give you pleasure, how you could use him for your own desires and needs: he lives for this, for you to bend his body to your will and fantasies, nothing else matters.
Aemond whines, train of thoughts broken, when you move backwards, his hole clenching around nothing
“Ride me Aemond. Show me how good you are” you say, hips pumping slowly against nothing.
Staring at you, Aemond feels his mouth dry, his body alien; for a second he doesn’t know how to move his limbs, enticed by your body, by your hands massaging your breasts, by your wanton moans: you tempt him and save him, you’ve enslaved him and he doesn’t want to be freed.
He has to tear his eye off you, or he’ll never manage to crawl towards you and he knows he’ll die if you don’t fill him soon. His cock hurts with every breath he takes, his balls so full and heavy, just for you: he needs to be owned again, needs to be taken and tormented by you until it’s too much. His body shudders at the thought, tears of pleasure pool in his eyes at the mere idea of what you’ll do to him.
Aemond has to shake his head to clear his thoughts, before he straddles your body, one hand on the freshly lubed dildo, the other spreading his hole on the head of the toy. Your hands on his thighs guide him downwards, slowly, forcing him to feel how different the angle is, his mouth open in a silent scream when he bottoms out, the toy so deep he feels it in his throat.
He needs a second before he can move, slow figures of eight until he can start lifting himself up, whines leaving his mouth with every pass, his legs moving faster and faster, your hips following, searching for his prostate to bully it again and he screams when you find it, any control on himself shattered, his body taking the wheel over his brain, seeking pleasure from you, animal sounds leaving his lips when you spank his ass, his legs propelling his body up and down with all the strength he has, until the coil of pleasure in his belly snaps, whines cascading from his lips when you fuck him through the onslaught, his body falling sideways when it’s too much.
You are hungry as he is. Gracelessly you push yourself on your knees and turn him on his back, one of his legs on your shoulders, the other pushed out as far as it would go, the dildo fucking him fast, his body trembling under yours, his hands seeking the harness to move you with more force, his back arching with every push in, animalistic groans fill your ears when he comes. You don’t stop and he tries to lift himself up to kiss you, your rough pushes make him fall on his back, your teeth on the skin of his leg mark him, little bouts of pain that enhance the pleasure he feels, long muscles shaking with the effort to keep the position you’ve put him in: he’d do anything for you, bear any pain and this wins him a brutal kiss of ownership, your teeth hooking in his lower lip to pull at it, your growls spurring him in following your harsh movements, until he comes.
It’s too much, the onslaught of pleasure you’re giving him, his sanity gone, but the animal inside of him wants more, needs more and you sense it, that he’s not done, yet. With a groan you leave his hole, he whines and you slap his thigh, your nails scratching the delicate skin you’ve already bitten raw.
He looses count of the times pleasure washes over him, his body a ragdoll in your embrace, your hand in his hair to lift his torso, so you can kiss him, your nails scratching his chest and crushing his balls, his legs flailing uselessly around you.
His nerves carry messages his brain can’t register, pleasure and pain, your scents mixing with sweat and sex, your groan every time you push in, grinding against his prostate to torture it, thin fluid leaking continuously from his abused cock. He can’t even beg, your assaults robbing him of his wits, drool leaking freely from his open mouth, mixing with the thin string of yours you are letting rain on his tongue.
“Turn around” you pant and you have to help him on his front, the lovely globes of his arse yours to slap, because he makes the loveliest sound of pain. On a whim you bite his right asscheek, your teeth pulling at the skin, until you are sure you’ll leave a nice mark on the creamy skin there, a cry of pain your reward.
Because you can, you spread his cheeks, admiring the gaping hole there; he doesn’t need any more preparation, still your fingers slide in, looking for his prostate, his muscles twitch, high pitched whines reward you: he sounds deliciously desperate, his cock and balls must be tormenting him. Your mouth waters at the idea of licking his spent from his tummy, after you grant him mercy, just not yet: it’s his birthday, he deserves to be fucked until he nears passing out, until he can’t even produce sounds anymore because his brain is completely wiped clean.
So much, it’s so much, his body destroyed by your passion, his muscles straining to carry his weight, the dildo reaching unknown depths inside of him, canceling the pain of his cock slapping rhythmically against his belly with every thrust he’s subjected to. In his frenzy, Aemond knows you own him, you know that his body can take it and he lets go, completely, after the brutality of your attack, his brain incapable of registering anything else, lost as it is in the pleasure, white fluid seeping from his ignored cock.
Without mercy the dildo breaches him, the peace you set is fast and unforgiving, hitting his prostate with every push, your hands forcing his cheeks tighter around the dildo to provide more friction for his nerves, your nails digging in the meat of his ass, until they’ve left indents there.
When one of his arms shoots backwards to grab you, your hands curl around his elbows to move him even faster and rougher, his head lolling down, spit dripping freely from his parted lips.
His body falls forward when you let him go, he can’t even make a sound anymore, reduced to a bundle of nerves.
“You’ve been so good – you murmur against his ear – it’s time for your gift, my love”.
Gently you turn him on his side, one leg over your shoulder to make space for your hand to reach his cock to stroke it sensually, following the deep motions of your hips. The hair on his face partially obscures his features, still you can see the slackened mouth and closed eyes, his tongue lolling out, the patch of drool on the bedsheet: yes, it’s truly time. With quick fingers you open the cock ring and keep the pace slow and deep, dildo never leaving his hole empty, the muscles of his tummy contracting in time with your movements. You know he can hear you and you encourage him to come, your hand jacking him just right, the dildo applying the perfect pressure against his prostate. He comes, his throat contracting around a scream he can’t make, body shuddering as you fuck through his orgasm: only the best for your love.
As quick as possible you remove the harness and hold Aemond tight. He is almost out of it, still he manages to wound his lips around one of your nipples, sucking randomly for comfort and protection. You let him, your arms curling around his bigger frame, your legs entwined with his to make sure he knows you’re not going anywhere, that you’re here to see him through everything. You are his protector when he can’t protect himself.
You hum in pleasure at the gentle way he is sucking your breast, your body thrumming with your unspent desire; there’s going to be time for that, for your Aemond to take care of you, now he needs your hand caressing his hair and back, your scent filling his nostrils, the salt of your nipple in his mouth, to guide him back to himself, and to you.
“Happy birthday, baby” you gently tell him when he releases your nipple and opens his eyes.
On cue he moves his head higher so you can kiss his beautiful, scarred face, follow his strong features with your lips, your mouth feather like on his scar. It’s in those moments that his face doesn’t hurt and it’s not numb, that the headache he carries with himself daily, abates, all thanks to you, his savior.
He seeks your nipple again and falls asleep mid suck. He’s so tender, so precious like this and you are so proud that no one else can see him defenseless as he is. You might not come from such a powerful and rich family, but you know ways to keep your man safe, the same way he does you.
“I need to take care of you” he slurs
“Not yet baby. We have the whole day for that” you heart hurts with the love you have for this selfless man
“I can’t wait to kiss you down there”
“Me as well, baby, me as well. Rest now, you need your strength”.
Everything taglist: @ilikeitbetterangsty
Aemond taglist: @phantoms-main-blog
Also tagging: @adderess who asked to be tagged in this one
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HOME | CHOI SEUNGCHEOL
synopsis: a lazy morning in the life you share with choi seungcheol.
pairing: choi seungcheol x gender neutral reader
genre: fluff, established relationship, gn!reader, intentional lowercase
wc: 754
boo talks: i wrote this late on tuesday (when it was still coups birthday) so think of this as a late happy birthday and my little intro to possibly doing more than just smaus (tho probably heavy on the smaus still - they're a lot of fun).
main masterlist
love is weird. it’s complicated. it’s simple. it’s hard. it’s easy. it’s everything and nothing. all the feelings and at the same time none of them.
falling in love with choi seungcheol was easy. his laugh. his smile. his passion. it’s easy to fall in love with someone who does nothing but bring others joy, who does nothing but show exactly who he is to those around him, making sure they know he cares.
being in love with choi seungcheol was hard. the constant pounding of your heart whenever he was around. the constant amount of sweat you produced. the constant feeling deep in your stomach that you could never be certain was what everyone called butterflies, or if it was wasps―because no matter how tingly the feeling was, it hurt.
confessing to choi seungcheol was simple. despite the clammy hands, the constant biting of your lips, and the fact that it felt like your heart would simply combust, it was simple. three words that rolled of your tongue easier than you had ever anticipated. three words that felt like they lightened the load you’d had on your shoulders ever since you first realised your feelings. three words that meant everything: ‘i like you’.
dating choi seungcheol is complicated. keeping a relationship secret is always complicated, but even more so when one half of that relationship is a kpop idol. whilst the sneaking around will always bring a bit of adrenaline to any relationship, at some point it gets exhausting. not to be able to tell the world you love someone, not to be able to hold their hand whenever you like, not to be able to show them the affection they deserve at every waking moment.
but you both manage.
especially on days like today. where you don’t have work and you can lie in bed wrapped around each other for as long as you like, with the very exception of a dog that needs to be walked. thankfully, kkuma knows her owner needs his sleep when he can, or at least, needs the opportunity to not have to get up the moment he wakes.
you know he’s awake when you feel the loose arm around your waist tighten its grip, pulling you close. you don’t turn around, don’t alert him to the fact that you’re awake. you don’t react when you feel his lips against your neck, a soft peck because you know he can’t help himself. the hand around your waist caresses the skin there, rubbing soft circles that has you melt into his embrace.
the smile on your face gives you away.
“so you are awake,” he whispers.
you nod as you turn around. he kisses you the moment he can. a chaste one that lingers. “sleep well?” you ask, knowing he didn’t fall asleep until hours after you went to bed, knowing he didn't fall asleep until long after you.
“always do with you in my arms.”
“cheesy,” you say. “are you sure? i noticed you got up at some point.”
seungcheol shakes his head. “thought you were asleep?” he sighs as his head falls back to hit the pillow. “but yeah. i slept well, just maybe not a lot.”
“better than nothing, i guess.” you find his hand underneath the duvet and intertwine your fingers. “at least you can sleep today. as long as you like.”
“what time is it?”
“eleven.”
“i have to walk kkuma.”
“i’ll do it.” you smile at the expression he sends you. “but you have to actually try to sleep in the meantime.”
“will you come back here and lie with me?”
you press a kiss to his lips. “of course.”
“okay.” he closes his eyes, but the arm around your waist doesn’t let go. “don’t be gone too long.”
“i won’t.”
you don’t untangle yourself from him until you hear his breathing change. it’s always weird to notice how tired he is whenever you have mornings like this, to know that if his sleeping self wasn’t acutely aware of movement from you, he probably would’ve slept away the day.
and you would gladly let him.
you take kkuma out for an hour. seungcheol is still asleep when you get back, but maybe lighter than you thought as the moment you climb back into bed, his arms open and pull you close. his lips find your neck and he presses against it, but never once does he open his eyes.
or, not until kkuma decides to say hi to her dad with kisses.
boo talks (again)
thank you so much for reading!
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just thought of the most rom-com scenario ever. reader is the new hire for the ADA and immediately off the bat, dazai is dazai. reader just takes it as the typical sense of humor and just laughs it off, thinking he’s not actually interested considering his many various ventures. eventually the two of them are assigned to missions quite often (with atsushi as a third wheel) and the two get along great in terms of humor, personality, work in the field… it boggles atsushi’s mind that the two of them aren’t at least going on ONE date. one night dazai tells him in a drunken stupor over the phone he has feelings for y/n but doesn’t want to ruin what they have. y/n ends up telling atsushi they don’t know what to do if they keep getting missions with dazai because one of these days they may slip up due to him just BEING there. he ends up confiding in both yosano and kunikida about it when the two are out of the office and they both just go “y/n and HIM??? anyone deserves better than THAT” but yosano means it in a more teasing way and kunikida means it in a serious way because. kunikida. thus begins a quest for atsushi; to bring the two together, and it drives him NUTS because the two both don’t think the other likes them. dazai assumes y/n would rather have interest in any other guy and y/n assumes dazai would rather have interest in any other person. this ends up with many funny scenarios such as:
1. atsushi leaving a note on dazai’s desk that reads “i want to talk to you in the hallway at __ time today.” and leaving an identical one on y/n’s desk so they can cross paths outside of working together and possibly start a convo and go somewhere. it backfired and the two just say “weird coincidence. everyone must’ve got this!” and wave bye
2. atsushi trying to subtly tell dazai y/ns favorite flower and he just says “oh, that’s great! are you getting them a birthday present early or something”
3. even kunikida being forced into trying to help by asking dazai if he is interested in hanging out with him and y/n (so he can pretend to end up being sick and it would just be dazai and y/n) and dazai saying “oh, is this some sort of elaborate scheme you’re planning on order to have a date with y/n and so it won’t be awkward with just the two of you? i’ll pretend to be sick when it happens for you!” LIKE GOD DAMM DAZAI STOP BEING INSECURE ITS YOU BOY?!
basically stuff like that goes on so much to the point where when the ADA is out celebrating a successful year of missions at a karaoke bar atsushi just yells out over the mic: “I HAVE HAD ENOUGH THIRD WHEELING HERE!!!!! Y/N AND DAZAI YOU BOTH likeeachother-“ and they’re just. WHAT
(SORRY FOR ALL THE TEXT LMFAO)
anon you literally wrote this for me idek what to say you’re so cool
Atsushi’s eyes widened. “What?! I can’t go on this mission, I have, um… an appointment.” Nailed it. “Dazai can take my place! He’s not doing anything right now.” Normally, Kunikida would have pointed out this obvious lie, but he remained quiet - pretty much everyone in the agency knew what he was up to.
Dazai actually was doing something for the first time in a while, but surely this mission was much more important. The brunet took off with you, headed out on an actually very unimportant mission you definitely could’ve taken care of on your own while Atsushi planned.
The tiger boy was quick to tell you and Dazai upon your return about tonight’s important karaoke celebration! And when you tried to weasel your way out of it, Yosano had practically dragged you down to the place. You were ushered next to Dazai as Atsushi and Yosano chose songs for everyone to sing. They said it was to make sure Dazai didn't pick something depressing or you would try to bail out again - this way, everyone had to go. But also... this way, you and Dazai would be stuck singing a romantic duet.
Of course, the two of you took it horribly wrong (in Atsushi's opinion), you both fully committing to the "joke song" Atsushi selected, wholly pretending in the moment. He'd wanted some romantic moment where you two realized you were destined to be together, but you both are just so stupid—
Atsushi had been up next, and was gripping the microphone tightly. He wasn't one to let his anger take over, but this was just getting ridiculous. As the opening notes played to the song he chose, he shouted out your deepest secret, and Dazai's as well.
You both like each other.
With slack jaws and wide eyes, every agency member stared at Atsushi in shock. He'd turned pink as he realized his mistake, muttering apologies as he placed the mic back down. Tense silence filled the air, the only sound being the scraping of Ranpo's spoon along the ceramic ice cream dish he'd ordered.
After a moment, Yosano started clapping. "Someone had to say it, and we all knew they wouldn't."
The rest of karaoke was horribly awkward for you and Dazai. You'd moved ever so slightly away from each other, completely embarrassed. What if Atsushi had just made up that Dazai likes you back? What if Atsushi had just made up that you like Dazai back? All either of you knew is that he had yelled out your biggest secret, and neither of you were too excited to sing anymore.
The lights had been turned on and everyone was gathering their things. It had been a fun night out, all things considered. Yosano got completely hammered and Ranpo couldn't direct his way home if his life were at stake, so Kunikida and Atsushi led the both of them back to their homes (with Kyouka right on Atsushi's tail). The Tanizaki siblings had left a bit before everyone for whatever their reasons were, so just you and Dazai were left standing outside the karaoke bar, awkwardly gazing out at the quiet city.
"So... tonight was different, huh?" You spoke anxiously, picking at a loose thread on your top.
"I didn't expect Ranpo to be that good a singer," Dazai replies with a polite smile.
You sighed. The last thing you wanted was for things to turn awkward between the two of you. "Listen, Dazai— "
"Do you want to walk home with me?" He cut you off.
You smiled softly, letting out a small chuckle. "Of course."
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Day I-don't-know-anymore of @kissmetwicekissmedeadly 's visions of temptation event! And my first contribution to kinktober <3
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BABY BOI.
genre: nsfw, mdni
character: Licht Klein
wc: 2,5k
warnings: lingerie, masturbation, voyeurism, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, sex, dirty talk, praise kink, dacryphilia, size kink, creampie, female bodied reader
prompts: lingerie and "Touch yourself for me. Look at me while you do it."
mdni banner by the lovely @/saradika
For more content like this, check the masterlist <3
Licht’s steps pad through the dark corridors of Rhodolite’s palace, blending in the shadows and silence of the quiet night. An agent of the silver moon as he makes his way back to his room after a long day.
A long day of trying to forget about his past, about Nokto, about himself. In a few hours midnight will ring its deadly beat to remind him that yet another year has passed.
And last year he would have ached for the world to swallow him whole, back in the warm embrace of its womb under the earth, in a place of peace and quiet where time ebbs away to nothingness. In a place where nothing matters.
This year though, was different, for he was no longer alone. This year was different for he found life and passion in your smile, a shelter in your arms and a future in your eyes. He found meaning in the darkest days and patience in the coldest of hours, comforted in the thought that you’re here, by his side.
His heart flutters in his chest, caressed by the flapping wings of a dove as your features come to mind, peaceful as you lie in bed in a gentle slumber, sheets draped over you. It’s late at night, so surely you must be asleep by now.
Guilt needles at his chest, laced with the cold blade of loneliness as he stops in front of his bedroom door. He hadn’t had time to see you today, and his heart desperately aches for yours. It will have to wait for sunrise though, as Licht wouldn’t dare wake you up.
A ruffling sound comes from behind the door.
Licht’s awareness flares to life, eyes glinting with acuteness as he eyes the light that slivers underneath the door to tickle the tip of his boots. His fingers wrap around the knob, silent as a ghost as he pushes it open and readies his other hand at the handle of his sword.
“Licht! Welcome back!”
What-
Crimson eyes widen, tension leaving Licht’s shoulders as the sight of you in his bedroom graces him. No sign of a threat, no sign of danger. Just you and your warm smile. Just you and the wild beating of his heart in his chest.
Just you, standing in the middle of his bedroom, showered in golden light, dressed in nothing but pale blue lace that hugs your curves and leaves little to the imagination. A sight for sore eyes, a sight for him alone. And a sight that has his heart skipping a beat.
You smile like honey, walking over to him with a light sway of your hips that brings out the lustful beast inside of him, one that craves you like the Moon craves the Sun.
“I was waiting for you.” You say softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.
His mind goes blank, nothing but you remains, nothing but your scent, nothing but your touch, nothing but the taste of your lips as you softly press them against his in a kiss that leaves him lightheaded. Nothing but a carnal instinct for more of you, for the dizzying softness of your skin under his thumbs.
A strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close as his lips dance over yours, his fingers gently tilting your chin up to deepen the kiss. His tongue swipes over the seam of your lips, asking for entrance.
A quiet groan rumbles in his chest as you grant him access, his tongue caresses yours, and he gladly drinks in the moan that escapes you.
You taste sweet, like Yves’s pastries and like his deepest desire. Like the thrumming heart of an aching soul that thirsts for an ever filling lake of temptation. Like his redemption and his damnation.
You part, lungs filling with air and head dizzy from lack of oxygen. But neither of you cares, not when your kiss beaten lips taste like cherries and look like sin.
His eyes burn through you, passionate ambers that turn your core to liquid want and have warmth pooling low in your belly.
“On the bed, now.” He says in the gentle commandeering voice that has butterflies flapping in your stomach, his breath ghosting over your lips as he releases you from his embrace.
You slowly back away, falling back onto the plush bed, eyes locked with his as you wait for his next directions. A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as he stalks over to you, true to his crest animal; tall and dangerously seductive. The hunger in his eyes pins you in place and there is nothing you can do to escape the hold he has on you.
“Lie down.”
You do, a shiver of anticipation coursing through you, desire licking at your core. You wait for him to do something, anything, but he stands in front of you in painful inaction, eyes roaming over your curves and the blue lace that covers your intimacy.
He doesn’t know where to start, mind running with all the things he wants to do to you and all the ways to enjoy the lingerie you chose for him. Surely you knew what you were doing when you went for this fabric, for this colour. And now it’s his job to honour your choice and enjoy his early birthday present as much as he can.
“Licht, please do-”
“Touch yourself for me.” He says, a soft smile on his lips, “Look at me while you do it. And keep the lingerie on, just slide the fabric to the side.”
No trace of shame creeps over him, no hint of restraint as he orders you around to get what he wants. Only pure happiness fills his veins as a soft gasp falls from your lips, dipping a lonely finger inside of your dripping entrance.
You start slow, sliding a second finger inside of you, thrusting them in and out at a steady pace. A shudder running up your spine as crimson eyes pin you under their intensity.
Licht doesn’t miss a bit of how your fingers disappear inside of you, so small there is no way they can satisfy you, and he knows it. Still he doesn’t budge, watching and learning as sweet whimpers escape you and your thumb draws smooth circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Li-Licht!” You moan out his name, voice laced with frustration as your eyes beg for him to help you.
A satisfied smile curves his lips as your back arches off the sheets, fingers curling inside of you to reach that spot he knows so well, that spot only his fingers can reach.
It’s him you ache to feel inside of you, his touch you crave and his everything you burn for. And that knowledge alone has his heart swelling in his chest, warm with love and tender affection.
“Licht- Ungh- Please.” A call for him to take over. A call he answers, forever drawn to you.
“Spread your legs for me.” He says as he kneels before you, placing warm hands on your thighs. You do, whimpering as he slides the fabric of your panties down your legs, baring your heat to the cold air.
A helpless whimper falls from your lips as he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your dripping core. And he smiles, because how could he not when you sound so cute and look so perfect like this? Spread out for him draped in his colour and driven mad with desire for him.
“Where do you want me to touch you?” He asks, teasingly prodding at your entrance with two fingers, enjoying how your hips buck up to meet his touch and how your arousal coats his digits.
“I don’t know and I don’t care- just touch me. Please.” Your words are his command, and you don’t have time to mourn the disappearance of his fingers, not when Licht’s tongue lies flat over your folds and licks at your juices.
Sweet pain spreads over his scalp as your fingers thread through silver locks and tugs on them, trying hard to ground yourself as warmth swells in your core and the knot of pleasure tightens inside of you.
He groans against you, hands holding your thighs apart for him before plunging two fingers in your awaiting hole, swirling inside of you to collect your warmth before slowly thrusting in and out at a steady pace.
“Ah- Mmhm! Licht- Feels good!” Your head tilts back, hips grinding against his features for more, and he only welcomes it, eagerly lapping at your dripping folds, not missing a lick of the pleasure that coats his tongue. Your moans and sweet cries of his name only encouragement for him to give you more.
His fingers curl inside of you, teasing at your sweet spot and coaxing your release out of you, pulling on the threads of your pleasure until stars cloud your vision and hot white warmth spreads through your limbs. Dizzying and overwhelming as he helps you ride the wave of your orgasm.
You fall back on the sheets, eyelids heavy and gaze hazy from the remains of your high, still too lost in the ebbs of pleasure to hear the unblocking of his belt and the unzipping of his trousers.
“I hope you’re ready for more.” He says, taking off his shirt to reveal his bare chest, all lean muscle that you ache to run your hands over, “Because I’m not done with you yet.”
You welcome him on top of you, legs wrapping around his waist as he cages your wrists above your head with his hand . A lazy smile curves your lips as you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “I hope you’re not because I’ve been craving you all day.”
His nose tickles your skin as he drags his lips along the curve of your nape, taking in your scent and bathing in the comforting proof of your existence. His thoughts become a blur, driven wild by his inner instinct to love you and claim you as his.
“I don’t think I can ever get enough of you.” He exhales softly, gently nibbling at your skin before sinking his teeth in your flesh, tongue soothing the blooming pain until his mark has been left on your nape.
“Licht!- Ngh!” The air leaves your lungs as the painful stretch of his length entering you takes over your senses, soon laced with the blissful pleasure of him filling the aching emptiness in your core.
His heart swells in his chest as he watches himself disappear between your folds, because you always take him so well, always take all of him even when it hurts and even when tears prick at the corners of your eyes.
He leans down, licking away the lonely tear that trickles down your cheek.
“You take me so well.” He says, even so, he remains still above you, waiting for you to give him a sign that you’re ready for him to move. Always attentive to your needs and comfort.
He bends down and kisses your forehead.
“Tell me when you’re ready.”
You nod, shifting underneath him and tightening your legs around him. “I am. Please fuck me until I can say nothing else but your name. Until my legs ache and-”
A gentle smile curves his lips, warmth swelling in his chest at your words, “Let me take care of you. I’ll do the work.”
Slowly, he rocks his hips against yours, bringing you over the edge of pleasure yet again with each thrust, each stroke of his cock inside of you and each gentle kisses he places along your nape and jaw.
Crimson eyes take in your features, every shift and every moan, every time you bite your lip as he angles his hips just right to hit that sweet spot inside of you, every time your lips part in a breathless cry as he sheathes himself all the way in.
Every time your hands claw at nothingness as he holds them up over your head, desperate to hang onto something tangible in fear reality slips from your grasp.
“You’re always- Ngh- So warm for me. So tight and so good.” He groans, satisfied when his words earn him a quiet whine from you, “I like to think- we were made for one another.”
Because to him you were. The only one for him. The only woman he’ll ever love and the only person he wants to give his everything to for eternity. The only one he knows he’ll be able to lose himself in and trust so entirely, so blindly.
The only one he feels such raw desire for, the only one he feels like tearing the world apart for and most importantly, the only one he wants to live for.
“Mmhm- Licht am-am so close!” You cry out for him in the night, so sweetly he feels like melting, heart so full of love he might burst from the overwhelming warmth that fills him when he gazes at you.
He picks up the pace, his free hand pushing your legs up to your chest in a desperate need to drown in you. In a desperate need to hear yet another cry of his name from you.
“I-I know- Ngh- me too.” He groans, hips moving of their own volition as they knock against yours, losing himself in the way your walls tighten around him, in the way you suck him in so good and in the way your features contort in pleasure as the waves of your release crash over you.
Your hands ball into fists, nails digging in your palms as blinding warmth shoots through your veins and spreads from your core to your toes. Your thighs quivering around him as your mouth falls open in a silent cry.
Your orgasm only coaxes his own out of him, a grunt rumbling in his chest as he sheathes himself deep inside of you, filling you with his seed before any of it gets to slip from your hole.
He doesn’t stop though, intent on claiming you over and over again until the sun rises and fatigue dawns on him. Until your world fades to nothing but him and until he has proven to you just how much he liked this new lingerie set.
“Ah… Plea-Please, don’t stop…” You whimper in a whisper, voice hoarse from screaming his name. And his heart melts at the sight of you so exhausted, so full of him and yet so eager for more. You’re clearly tired, eyelids heavy with fatigue as you gaze up at him through hazy thoughts.
But you want more and he’d be lying to himself if he said he had had enough.
He leans over you, a gentle hand tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear and caressing your cheek, “You’re adorable.” He nuzzles his nose with yours, the softest of smiles on his features. “I’m sorry for tomorrow- But I don’t think you’ll be able to walk.”
But then again, that’s what you wanted, right?
taglist: @randonauticrap @pockcock @aquagirl1978 @xbalayage @nightghoul381 @itsjudesfault @candied-boys @altairring @ikesimpleton @ikemen-writer @ikesimp100 @lichtluv @veervers @kalims-pessimist-bestie @elleplaysotome @o0aj0o
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It's currently 4:33am and today is my 23rd birthday.
I have no plans for today, and that's okay. It's expected. I wont lie and say I'm filled with joy and excitement for this day, because I'm feeling fairly indifferent (or at least I'm trying to).
I'm not where I thought I would be at 23 years old. When I was still living at home, a few years ago, I imagined this would be a time of happiness, freedom and personal fulfillment. But sadly its not. There's been sprinkles of happiness, but the dark clouds have been so overwhelming, it's been hard to see even a glimer of joy sometimes. I've been walking blind through a storm. A storm that I had a hand in creating.
A few days after my 19th birthday I walked into a citizens advice bureau and applied for homelessness. My mother had received a notice of eviction from our family home. She was no where to be found most days leading up to this, and when she was home she was sleeping off her days of gallivanting like a child with her friends. Nothing would snap her out of this cycle, pleading and begging only drove her out the door faster. So with little options left, I applied for help. I gained a house to live in for my younger brother and I. But I lost my mother. I haven't spoken to her since I left. Sometimes I think I see her in the street, I'll catch a glimpse of curly brown hair in a bun and stop. But I'm never sure if it is her, or just a shadow. It's impossible to think about her for long without my heart cracking open, I miss her, I love her, I worry for her. but I know my brother must come first. But the truth is, I have know idea what I'm doing. I didn't know what would happen that day when I left, I just knew I was desperate.
So today I'm not celebrating, I didn't celebrate my 19th or any other birthdays after. Poverty and guilt will do that. My hope is that today I wont feel too lonely. Or guilty. I hope my brother doesn't feel bad that he cant get me anything (all I need is to know he will one day have what he needs and wants). Today I hope my mother where ever she may be, isn't hurting and is healthy. I hope she isnt being eaten by any feelings. I know she wont want to think about my brother or I today, I imagine it's too painful. So I hope she doesn't. She may have left for at little while, but I left completely. And I will always be sorry for it.
Its now 5:05 am and I've spent too long on this already, too long on memories and feelings I'm not ready to feel. I hope this birthday marks the start of freedom, happiness and personal fulfillment. But most of all, I hope my brother this time next year, is in a place in his life that he can be proud of, a place of abundance. I hope I can give him that.
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Its my 20th birthday today! Can I get a pre relationship fluff post with Eddie?? Well, of course. Its me so it has to be a cute little confession 🥺
AN | I hope you have a wonderful birthday! And this is just soft, soft, soft and I love it! Enjoy 🥰
Warnings | None
Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader
Word Count | 1.9k
Masterlist | Main, Eddie
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
This was the day. Not only was it your birthday but it was the day that Eddie Munson was finally going to confess his feelings for you. He worked himself up to this for so long, planning every detail out in his mind. He’d even rehearsed it in the privacy of his bedroom, using a picture of the two of you for a stand-in for you.
Finally, after all this time, he was going to put his heart on the line and give it to you to love…or break. God, he really hoped you wouldn’t break it. But he knew that he would never know unless he took the chance and told you that he didn’t just love you as a best friend, he was in love with you in every single way.
But then you showed up at school, just as you did every other morning, and somehow every single thought in his mind escaped and left him staring wordlessly at you. How could anyone look so pretty - how could you manage to be this pretty? You were dressed in a simple jumper and jeans, scoffed up trainers, but you still looked better than anything else he had ever seen.
“Eds?” you were laughing softly as he stood wordlessly next to your locker with a sweet, dopey grin on features. You waved your hand in front of his face, snapping him back into reality, “everything alright?”
“Y-yeah,” a soft flush of pink welled up in his neck and cheeks as he looked at you sheepishly. He suddenly remembered the flowers he was holding behind his back, and held them out to you nervously, “happy birthday!”
“Oh Eddie,” you eagerly took the small bundle from him, admiring the wildflowers that he had found and picked for you. Just for you. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek, “you remembered! And these are beautiful. Thank you so, so much!”
“‘course I remembered,” he grinned, touching his cheek where you’d pressed your soft lips. His entire face felt like it was on fire, “we’ve been friends for how long now? It’d be a crime if I hadn’t remembered.”
“I know,” you admitted, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, “but it’s just…it’s so nice. To have someone remember and be appreciated. Especially from you, Eds.”
You opened your locker to get out your things for your first period, but could still feel his eyes intently trained on you. Peeking behind the door, you caught him and a sheepish smile worked its way onto his face. He scratched at the back of his neck nervously before staring at the ground, “do you want to have lunch with me later?”
“We have lunch together everyday, silly.”
“In our spot,” he was almost whispering and you leaned in to hear him better, “just us. And if we’re feeling crazy, maybe we could play…hooky for the rest of the day?”
“Edward Munson,” you teased, “are you proposing we ditch school and become degenerate rule breakers?”
“Perhaps,” there was that soft little smirk you loved, “whaddya say? Just for one afternoon…”
“That is a lie and we both know it!”
“Fine,” he admitted, “how about just today and then not again for…at least two months?”
“Why do I get the feeling that you’ve got the whole afternoon planned out already?” you’d caught him red handed and he shrugged innocently. And how could you say no? You couldn’t…at least not when it came to Eddie, “alright, Eddie. I’m in! But you better make it worth it.”
“I will,” he grinned eagerly as the school bell rang shrilly, “I swear it. I’ll see you at lunch - our spot!”
“See you then,” you grinned to yourself as you watched him rush off to his first class. He stopped and turned around to press a kiss to the side of your head. You watched him go until he was out of sight, your heart full to bursting with nothing but affection and adoration for him, “silly fool.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
By the time you’d managed to evade the rest of your friends and their birthday wishes and get to that secluded spot in the woods, Eddie was already waiting for you…along with a picnic basket full of what looked like all of your favorite snacks.
“Eddie,” you looked at him in surprise as he waved his arms around in a small little ta da gesture, “what’s all of this?”
“Birthday smorgasbord or whatever you call it for the birthday girl,” he played it off as though it was nothing; but to you it was everything. You almost knocked him over in your excitement as you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug, “whoa, easy there tiger!”
“Eddie,” the way you were looking at him with those big, soft doe eyes was going to be the death of him. Something shifted in the moment and you could both feel it. You loosened your grip on him and slowly took a step back, suddenly nervous and scrambling for what to say, “I…thank you. You’re the best, and I mean it. I don’t know what I’d ever do with you.”
"Listen," his features adopted a serious look as your stomach flopped anxiously. What could he possibly have to say? Was he going to tell you that he knew about your feelings for him? Was he going to end your friendship? But he wouldn't do that…right? Especially not on your birthday. That would be…horrible. Maybe he was going to tell you he hadn't actually made any plans for the afternoon after all. Sure. Hopefully, "I-I have something I need to talk to you about."
"I'm sorry!" you couldn't help but blurt it nervously.
"For what?" It was his turn to look worried.
"I dunno," you shrugged, "it just came out. Did I…do something?"
"No, no, not at all," he waved you off and put his hands on his hips as inhaled and exhaled deeply, "listen. We're best friends right?"
"'course."
"And I love you," those words, despite having been exchanged so many times in what he thought was a platonic way still made him nervous, "b-but I don't just…love you."
"Oh."
"I'm in love with you."
Your eyes widened at his confession and you weren't sure how to react. Part of you was waiting for the other shoe to drop where he told you it was a joke, or even if he loved you couldn't be together. But nothing came except a nervous look from the boy that had captured your heart. You exhaled sharply before laughing…a habit that came around whenever you grew anxious or nervous.
His brows knitted together in confusion at your reaction and he wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. He wasn't sure what he expected, but you laughing at him wasn't it. He took a step back and tried to play it off like his heart wasn't breaking, "well…I've been reading this situation wrong and just…ugh…probably fucked everything up."
"Eddie?"
"I just thought…you felt the same way," he shook his head and held up his hands in surrender, "I kind of had this whole thing planned out, a whole stupid speech memorized where I tell you that I'm in love with you and I have been for a long, long time, and that I don't want to be your best friend but I want to be your boyfriend and…yeah. And then the rest of the day was gonna be just the two of until later when we throw you that surprise party and we could tell everyone and fuck. I'm sorry."
He turned to walk, but you jumped after him and circled your fingers around his wrist and stopped him. He looked at you with an expectant expression, "Eddie Munson."
"Yeah?" you dropped his hand and waved your own around, trying to find the right words. Instead, all you felt was a prickling at the back of your eyes as you tried not to cry.
“You just pulled off a whole love confession and yet you’re the one apologizing,” you looked up and tried to blink away the tears as he stepped closer. He wondered if you could hear the pounding of his heart in his chest’ it felt like it was threatening to break through his ribcage. You couldn’t hear it over the sound of your own, “while I am the one that should be apologizing. I-I didn’t mean to laugh, Eds. You know that’s what I do when-”
“Hey, you don’t have to…lie or pretend to spare my feelings,” his instinct was to reach over and wipe away the tears that had rolled down your cheeks as you shook your head, “angel-”
“Eddie, you fool, my fool,” you laughed softly, “I was laughing because I was nervous. Not at you. I-I’m in love with you. And you have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming and wishing that you’d say those words to me. And here we are. You’ve just said them and part of me still feels like I’m dreaming.”
“Y-you’re in love with me?” he pointed between your bodies as you nodded happily, “really?”
“Duh,” you reached over to touch his face, hesitating for just a moment before actually touching his face, cupping his cheek in your hand, “did you really think that all this time we were just friends?”
“No,” he admitted, “in my mind we were never just friends.”
You were grinning at him like mad, hardly able to contain yourself as you leaned in and kissed him, deciding that there was no better response. His hands naturally went to your waist as he pulled you into him. Your hands went to his shoulders as you practically melted into him. The moment was better than anything you could have ever imagined.
“Never just friends,” you agreed when you pulled back, finding him looking at you with nothing short of heart eyes. Oh yeah, you were a sucker for him, “I love you, Eds. In all the ways.”
“Me too,” he grinned, pressing kisses to the apples of your cheeks, “happy birthday, angel.”
“Thank you,” you hugged him tightly, “best birthday ever. And umm…you mentioned something about a surprise party later?”
“Oh,” he groaned inwardly as you giggled at him, “that just sort of slipped out. So, for your sake and mine, act surprised later.”
“I can do that,” you nodded lightly, “and then I can finally tell them that Eddie Munson dramatically professed his love to me and I so graciously told him I felt the same! What a story it will be!”
“I’m sure it will be,” he grinned as he spun around in his arms, “just make sure to tell them all good details.”
“They’re all good!” you sighed happily, “I love you, Eds.”
“I love you, angel.”
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