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a-reader-and-a-writer · 2 months

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You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This.... (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Fandom: Outer Range, Rhett Abbott, f!reader Summary: You and Rhett have a unique friendship. Every time you go out with a group, you end up getting drunk, dancing, and making out with him only to then wind up going home with other people. But what happens when Rhett asks you to dance before either of you has had a drink.... Word Count: 3744 TW: Fluff, Kissing, Love Confession, Drinking, Mentions of drunk making out, Mentions of drunk dancing, Language Notes: For @ohtobeleah's Galentine's Day Special based on "You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This" by Toby Keith (RIP 😔💗)

Despite the relatively early hour, the bar was busier than usual even for a Saturday night. You had forgotten there was some big sports thing that weekend the next town over so the overabundance of unfamiliar faces blending into the sea of regulars was a bit of a shock when you first arrived with your friends but—miraculously—the six of you managed to stake your claim on a table not too far from where you usually sat.

However, you had struggled to squeeze through the crowd and since everyone else was already sitting when you finally caught up, it was unanimously decided you should fight your way back up to the bar to get the first round of drinks. You put up a brief mock protest before surrendering to the peer pressure, but secretly, you didn’t mind. It gave you a chance to scope out the space and see if any of the out-of-towners caught your eye. Your town wasn’t small per se, but even in a medium-sized pond, there were only so many fish. So when there was a chance at some fresh blood, why not take advantage?

What seemed like an eternity later, you pushed your way back to your friends and practically threw the beers onto the table before collapsing into the booth. While you had enjoyed watching all the new potential hookups around you, you had also been relentlessly jostled, had beer spilled on your boots, and had three separate guys grab your ass before claiming it was an “accident” due to the crowd. And all just to get a crappy $7 beer. Ridiculous.

As you took your first drink, you finally realized only five people were sitting around the table instead of six. Nudging Parker who was sitting next to you, you leaned over and shouted above the music, “Where’d Rhett go?”

She shrugged dismissively, her attention locked on some douchy-looking frat bro eye-fucking her from a few tables away. “I don’t know. He said something about going to help you with the drinks or something.”

“Well, I never saw him.”

“He’s a big boy. He’ll find his way back. Or not.” She pointed at the frat bro, signaling the end of her interest in your questions. “What do you think about him?”

Without glancing back over, you deadpanned, “I think if you let him even touch you, you should get tested in the morning.”

She rolled her eyes at you before sitting up straighter as she bit her lip and coyly waved at the frat bro, clearly dismissing you.

You caught Alec’s eye over the top of Parker’s head and you both tried to suppress a chuckle. Parker infamously made the worst choices when it came to men and she only dug her claws in deeper when any of you tried to talk her out of them, so it was better to just let her do whatever she was going to do and help her deal with the consequences afterward.

Relaxing back in your seat, you took another long drink from your beer. It was now almost half empty and just the thought of wading back through the crowd for another one made you internally groan. Though you could probably convince Alec to go since you got the first round but that would involv–

Your internal conversation was cut off as you spotted Rhett pushing his way through the crowd towards the table. Sitting up, you smiled at him. “Oh, there you are. I thought you might have gotten trampled by the mob of people or something. Your beer’s getting war–”

“Come dance with me.”

You were taken aback as he thrust out his hand to help you up from the table.

It was a given at this point that by the end of the night, you and Rhett would end up hammered, uninhibited, and viciously making out in the middle of the dance floor. It’s what happened every time you went to the bar: You’d both drink, you’d both dance together, you’d both get all hot and bothered, and you’d both find someone else to take you home for the night. It was a strange system but it worked. Parker once joked that you were each other’s fluffers, just getting things ready for your real targets for the night. And while you would prefer to phrase it somewhat more tastefully, she wasn’t exactly wrong. Plus, you had found that a lot of guys (and girls in Rhett’s case) loved watching you making out with someone else, rubbing your body all over theirs, just for you to go home with them instead. It seemed as if the two of you weren’t the only ones getting fluffed in this situation.

However, neither you nor Rhett ever stepped foot on the dance floor until you’d finished at least three or four beers. He was fairly shy and reserved when sober and you both were very self-conscious of your dancing before getting at least slightly buzzed. Yet you were currently only halfway through beer number one and his first beer still sat unopened on the table next to you. Rhett might have pre-gamed on his own before you, Tara, and Spencer picked him up, but he seemed completely sober so you couldn’t imagine what he was thinking.

“I–but we–I mean…”

Rhett smiled as he leaned in close to be heard over the music. “It’s just a dance, sweetheart. It ain’t anythin’ we don’t do every week.”

“Bu-but what about our drinks?”

“I’m sure Parker—” he took one glance at your friend sitting next to you still making “do-me” eyes at the frat boy and corrected his statement “—Tara wouldn’t mind keepin’ an eye on ‘em.”

“You two go,” Tara said, smiling from where she was sitting with Spencer’s arm draped across her shoulders. “Your drinks will still be here when you get back.”

“Well…maybe,” Spencer muttered just loud enough to be heard over the music as he eyed Rhett’s untouched beer.

Tara elbowed her boyfriend with a scowl before turning back to you and gesturing for you to go. Still confused about the change in your routine, you took Rhett’s hand and let him help you to your feet. As he led you towards the dance floor, you turned your head just in time to see Tara and Spencer laughing and shaking their heads as they watched the two of you leave. Then Spencer reached for Rhett’s beer but Tara slapped his hand away.

You knew your friends didn’t understand this weird arrangement you and Rhett had fallen into—hell, it barely made sense to you. They were all convinced as they watched you week after week that the two of you were falling in love. They never believed you’re just friends having a little drunken fun.

Not that you hadn’t ever considered Rhett as a potential love connection. The first night you met him, that was where you thought things were headed. He had finally had enough of his toxic home life back in Wyoming and was looking for a fresh start somewhere new. So when a contact from his time bull-riding who lived in town offered him a job, he jumped at the opportunity.

You met him a few days later in this very bar when you saw him sitting all alone in the back corner. Of course, you noticed his classic-cowboy good looks, but what really caught your eye was how nervous and shy he seemed, his eyes mostly trained on the beer in front of him except when they occasionally shifted around the bar uncertainly. It wasn’t as if he were scared of someone seeing him or that he was on the run from something. No. He looked like a kid on his first day of school who wasn’t sure of where to sit at lunch.

So, you had gone and sat down at his table with two beers and a friendly smile. It took quite a bit of patience and coaxing, but Rhett eventually began to open up to you. Then, just as you were going to make the move to his side of the booth, your friends found you and asked for an introduction. By the end of the night, Rhett had slipped naturally into the gang and it felt weird pursuing him in any romantic way after that. After all, you could see how much he needed a support system in this new town and you didn’t want to take that from him for a one-night fling.

Which was why when you found yourselves sloppily making out in the middle of the dance floor a few weeks later and he just brushed it off like it was nothing, you didn’t push it or question it. And when it happened again, and again, and again, it just felt like a routine or a tradition and you never looked deeper into it.

But now Rhett had suddenly changed things up and you still had no idea why.

Once you reached the dance floor, Rhett pulled you in close and the two of you began to dance. There were so many people around you that you couldn’t move more than a few inches in any direction, but since you usually just rubbed against each other while making out, it shouldn’t have been an issue. However, without the usual buzz from the drinks, you were way too in your head about every move you made. Your usual fluid, natural movements felt stiff and robotic, and all you could think about was where Rhett’s hands were or what part of him was pressed against you at any given time. It was a disaster.

The song ended and a soft, melodic tune began to play. Slow songs were pretty rare but they were always the perfect opportunity for another drink, and boy did you need one. You turned to brave the crowd around the bar once more, however, Rhett’s fingers slipped into yours and he spun you back into his arms.

A half grin pulled at the corner of his mouth as he saw your surprised face and he asked, “You rushin’ off already? We just got out here.”

“In case I’m the only one who has noticed, I’m not really feeling this right now. And besides, we don’t do slow dances.”

“Tonight we do.” He must have seen the hesitation still on your face because he squeezed your hand. “Come on. You can tough it out for one song, then they’ll play somethin’ fast we can move to and you’ll get into the flow of it. Otherwise, you’ll just be waitin’ in that line for the rest of the night.”

Even pressed against him and over the softer melody of the slow music, the deep timbre of his voice was still difficult to hear but you knew he was right. By the time you made it through the crowd of people to reach the bar for another drink, many upbeat songs would have passed and there was a good chance you’d be ticked off by your waiting experience just like the first time. Instead, you could just stick it out here with Rhett and you’d be back to your usual dancing in mere minutes. And he was probably right. Given a few more songs, you’d probably figure out this sober dancing thing and actually enjoy yourself. So, somewhat reluctantly, you nodded to signal you’d stay.

Apparently, many of the people around you had the same thought you originally did because the crowds around you began to thin out giving you and Rhett a little more room to maneuver. The two of you were swaying together slowly and you have to admit it’s a nice change from your usual high-energy grinding.

Then as the music began to swell, he surprised you by spinning you out and when you twirled back into him, Rhett placed his hand on the center of your back and pulled you tight until you were pressed firmly against his chest. You looked up–unsure of what he was doing–just as his other hand brushed across your cheek to settle on the nape of your neck. One of the colored lights flashed across his face, illuminating the intensity deep within his eyes as he stared at you, and you felt your heart skip a beat as time seemed to freeze around you.

But that was silly. This was Rhett. You shouldn’t feel this fluttering in your chest or tingling where his skin brushed yours. He was your good friend, someone you had made out with every week and barely gave it a second thought. So why was there this different feel about him tonight? Why couldn't you take your eyes off his lips, why was your head spinning, and why were your knees growing weak? And why didn’t you want it to stop?

Then, using the hand on the back of your neck to tilt your head, Rhett’s lips were suddenly on yours.

Electricity shot right through you as every nerve in your body seemed to light up at once. It felt like you had just jammed a fork into an electrical socket but in the best of ways. This was unlike any kiss you had ever shared with Rhett—with anyone—before. Usually, your kisses with Rhett were drunken, and sloppy, and uncoordinated. But this…Rhett was as sober as you ever see him, and every curl of his lips, every swipe of his tongue, it all felt so fluid, almost choreographed. As if he had planned for this moment for ages.

Your eyes drifted closed as you let yourself sink deeper into his embrace. You could no longer tell if you were standing still or spinning around and around and around as a dizzying fog enveloped your mind. For a few seconds, you didn’t even know where you were at. All that existed was you and Rhett and the kiss.

But then you shifted, the top of your head bumping into the brim of his hat almost knocking it off, and the spell was broken. Rhett pulled away, fixing his hat, and leaving you clinging to him for support as the world came rushing back to you. The slow song was still playing and crowds of people around you still occasionally bumped into you as they danced, And yet, from the moment Rhett’s lips touched yours, everything had changed.

But had he felt it too?

With your face still just a few inches away from his, you chuckled softly. “You know, you really shouldn’t kiss me like this.”

“An’ why’s that?”

“You might give a girl the wrong impression. Make her start thinking lots of crazy things.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He just gave you that same intense stare he had just before the kiss and you felt your heart begin to speed up once more. Then, in a voice you could only just make out over the music, he asked, “What if that’s the point? What if I’m tired of waitin’ for her to figure out how I feel?”

All the air was sucked out of your lungs as his revelation drove into your chest like a fist. “Rhett…”

“No…No…” Before you could process what he was saying, he shook his head and stepped back, letting his hands fall to his sides as he released his hold on you. “’m sorry. I shouldn’t—I’m doin’ this all wrong. But I couldn’t take another week of you wrapped in my arms, your lips on mine, just to then watch you go home with someone else. I just…I just wanted you to know. ‘m sorry.”

He started to hurry off the dance floor but this time it was your turn to grab his arm to stop him from leaving. His eyes flickered up to yours and you saw that all the confidence and certainty that had been there before had been extinguished, leaving only fear behind. You knew it was the same fear you were feeling right now: fear of this changing everything; fear of this ruining your friendship; fear of what came next.

Sliding your hand into his and linking your fingers, you muttered, “Come here” before leading him off the dance floor and back towards the rear of the building. There was a separate concert area back there that they only opened for shows so you knew it was one of the few places in the bar that would give you some semblance of privacy.

Once there, you ducked into the empty space and shut the door. You could still feel the vibrations from the music and hear the dull thumping, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as it had been before. In here, at least you and Rhett wouldn’t need to shout to be heard.

Now that you were alone, neither one of you seemed to know what to say or how to start. You both shifted slightly as you glanced at each other. Finally, Rhett rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Listen, can we just forget any of that happened? I don’t want things to be weird between us and ‘m sorry if—”

“No, I’m sorry,” you said, cutting him off. “I was just a little surprised by that kiss and what I said didn’t come out right. But what I should have said, what I meant to say—” you stepped forward until you were brushing up against him, placing your hands on his chest. “—was ‘you shouldn’t kiss me like this…unless you mean it like that’.”

Rhett’s long eyelashes fluttered several times in quick succession and you saw his Adam’s apple bob wildly out of the corner of your eye. Licking his lips, he hesitated for another moment then asked, “And if I do? If I–If I mean it like that?”

Leaning forward, you whispered, “If you do, then, baby, kiss me again.”

The moment that his lips touched yours, the world once again fell away. If anything, now that you were returning his kiss with the same tenderness and enthusiasm, it was even more intoxicating than the kiss on the dance floor and you never wanted it to end.

Both of Rhett’s large, calloused hands slid up to cup your face, his thumb softly rubbing back and forth across your cheekbone. He used this leverage to drive you back a few steps and you soon felt your back bump against the wall. He pressed closer, sandwiching you between the cold, rough concrete and his warm, firm body. Another spark of electricity shot through you and you wondered if he felt it too as you felt the growing bulge in his pants jerk against your hip.

Through the haze of the kiss, you briefly considered how far you should let this go. A small part of you wanted to undo his belt right this second and drop to your knees before him, or to slide down your jeans and let him pound into you against this wall. After all, the two of you were still alone and no one would see you. However, the bigger part of you knew no matter how amazing you felt at this moment, this was all very new and you shouldn’t rush things. You and Rhett still needed to figure out what this meant for the two of you moving forward, and adding sex right now would just make things even more complicated.

Rhett must have come to the same conclusion because he shifted his hips so they were no longer pressed against you. Then he reluctantly pulled his lips off of yours. His hands slid off your face onto the wall behind you, one braced on either side of your head as both of you stared at one another panting as you tried to catch your breath. All you could do was look at Rhett’s lips and imagine them pressed against yours once more. And from how he stared at you, a hunger pulsing in his blue eyes, you felt he was thinking the same thing.

“Why didn’t you do that sooner?” you whispered.

“I wanted to since that first night we met. When I saw how kind, and funny, and incredible you were, I was smitten. But then the rest of the gang showed up and for the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. I was afraid makin’ a move on you would ruin all a that and I figured havin’ you as a friend was better than not havin’ you in my life at all. For a while, I settled for our dances and kisses, but I finally realized I didn’t want to be just your friend anymore. So, I took a chance.”

“I’m glad you did because I felt the same way.”

Rhett grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss into his cheek. “Thank you for being the brave one.”

Rhett’s cheeks grew red in the dim light but he nodded as he let his hands fall from the wall behind you. Standing up straight, he glanced over his shoulder. “Um, I guess we should probably get back before we get in trouble for bein’ back here.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if Tara’s sent Spencer out to find us yet.” You pushed off the wall, but as Rhett started to open the door, you stopped him. “Rhett…what happens now? Where do we go from here?”

He thought for a moment before a sly grin spread across his face. Walking up to you, he plucked his cowboy hat off his head and placed it on top of yours, pulling the brim down low over your brow.

Since the night you met him, you had never seen Rhett let a single person wear his hat, let alone touch it. So for him to give it to you, even temporarily…

You squeezed his hand tightly as you gazed into his eyes, loving what you saw reflected there. “How do I look?”

“Damn, sweetheart, looks like it was made for you,” Rhett’s voice was thicker than normal as he stared at you. “I shouldda given it to you the night we met, as soon as you sat down at my table with that smile and a beer.”

Now it was your turn to feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. Glancing shyly at the floor, you asked, “I love it, but I’m not really sure how this answers my question about us?”

“What do you know about Cowboy Law?”

Thanks to @ohtobeleah for letting me include the honorary Dagger in her event 😂 I've wanted to write this for a while and it was the perfect motivation to do so

Tag list: @lorecraft, @heart-0n-fire, @nerdysuperchick, @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @callsign-phoenix, @lt-natrace, @superskittles, @wkndwlff, @rhettabbotts, @ryebecca, @sio-ina-bottle, @lewmagoo, @basiccortez, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @blue-aconite, @ohtobeleah

#fic #leahsgalentinesdayspecial #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott outer range #outer range #lewis pullman #fluff #love confessions #kissing #language tw #drinking tw #drunk behavior tw

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kyriethesquishysquid · 8 months

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Betrayal Never Felt So Good (König/Fem!Reader) Chapter 1

You can find Chapter 2 here, Chapter 3 here, Chapter 4 here, Chapter 5 here, and Chapter 6 here!

Summary: The reader is a military nurse currently employed by Shadow Company. She was sent out with a small team into the middle of nowhere to gain intel on the enemy, her presence only a precaution as it should have been an easy in-and-out mission. Unfortunately for the Shadow team, KorTac had also been working on a lead in the same area. One thing led to another and the reader was forced to watch as her team was slaughtered mercilessly. Rather than kill her as well, she was taken back as a hostage and kept captive by the group's colonel, König.

Word Count: ~8.5K

Rating: Mature (For Smut)

A/N: To preface this story - I’ve never played the storyline of any COD games, nor do I know a damn thing about the military, much less special forces, so there will be inaccuracies galore, but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless! My take on König is somewhere between the headcanons of him being a ruthless psycho and a shy bean. Also, don’t come at me with complaints of this not being realistic, please. This is fanfic, loves. It doesn’t have to be realistic. Plus, if I was the one captured by this tree of a man and he was interested? Morals and reality be damned. I’m hopping on that train lmfao. Also, I wrote this entire thing in less than 24 hours and was too eager to post it to do a bunch of editing, so please excuse any errors!

Important Details: Occasional use of Y/N. Reader appearance is left vague but is described in little details such as being short (no exact height used), chubby, and with hair at least long enough to be pulled back. This story is essentially porn with plot, so literally over half of this is smut.

TW: Body shaming, violence, and attempted assault from random asshole #1. A few insecurities surrounding weight by the reader. Canon violence toward others by König. Super fast burn, unprotected sex, oral, fingering, Dom/Sub, multiple orgasms, squirting, creampie, suggested Stockholm syndrome (but really reader is just a touch-starved, thirsty bitch for Gentle!Giant König), pet names (in English and German), bad German translations bc I’m a lame monolingual American, no beta we die like the jackass Graves. Crappy Translations:

Ich werde dich mit deinen eigenen Eingeweiden füttern, bevor du diesen Satz beenden kannst! - I will feed you your own intestines before you can finish that sentence!

Maus- Mouse

Süßes mädchen - Sweet girl

Heilige Scheiße/Scheiße - Holy shit/shit

Mein schatz - My darling

Mein Gott - My god

Kleines - Little one

Verdammt, sieh dich an, kleine Maus - Damn, look at you, little mouse.

Oh, du kleine Füchsin! - Oh, you little vixen!

It was probably stupid. Scratch that, you knew it was stupid, but you couldn’t help but enjoy the company of the large Austrian man before you. Despite being the one to kidnap you and keep you tied up in this basement-like room for almost a full day now, the conversation had been flowing between you two like you were good friends. Maybe it was the gentle way he was treating you. Maybe it was the fact he’d kept his promises to you thus far. No matter the reason, you knew it was dangerous, this trust growing between you and him, but you were going to lean into it nonetheless.

“Hey, uh, I- I promise I’m not complaining but… why haven’t you, ya know, hurt me yet?” you asked softly.

König let out a heavy sigh, his mask fluttering around his face temptingly before he dropped back into his chair. It was hard to see his eyes from across the room but you were certain he was staring at you nonetheless. His gaze was heavy anytime it was on you, palpable in a way that made goosebumps crawl over your skin.

“You’ve given me no reason to,” he replied after a moment, “And, in all honesty, you weren’t our original target. In fact, it should have been anyone but you.”

You almost asked why, but he was quick to continue his explanation as if he hadn’t even stopped.

“You’re a nurse, ja? A nurse who does not see combat often, according to the intel we’ve been able to gather about your team, and that means you have little to no information we need.”

A warmth crept up your neck as he casually talked about you as if you were nothing of import, essentially a useless captive. It made your heart sting in an odd way.

“Ah… I see,” you hummed quietly.

“So now, we wait until your squadmates come in for the rescue, and then we get what we need from them.”

You managed a little nod but it stopped short when an embarrassingly loud rumble emanated from your stomach. Eyes widening, you nervously glanced his way to see if he’d caught it, only to find him getting to his feet.

“My apologies. You’ve been here quite some time with nothing but water. Let me go grab something for you.”

Before you could argue, he was out in the hallway, instructing one of the guards to step inside and keep an eye on you until he returned. The instant the young brunette stepped into the room, something felt off. Why? You weren’t sure. Maybe it’s just because you’d grown used to the “comfort” of your kidnapper. More than likely though, it was the way he was staring at you.

As you were stewing in your thoughts, trying to figure out your emotions, the man crossed the room and stopped at your feet with a laugh.

“So, you’re the broad the colonel’s been hiding? Interesting.”

The man’s words were spit with pure vile and reeked of danger. You instinctively leaned away when he reached out for your face and the disobedience was quickly rewarded with a hefty smack, tearing a cry of shock from your lips. While the sting was painful, it was nothing worse than you’d experienced before. Unfortunately, you knew he wasn’t going to stop there, the leer in his eyes enough to make your stomach uneasy as he stalked in circles around you like a predator to its prey.

“A little round for my taste, but I can see it. The colonel must have a thing for soft and small. Probably because he’s a fucking mountain. Opposites attract and all that jazz,” he snickered, “Too bad the bastard is too scared to just take what he wants. But don’t worry sweetheart, I’m not a little bitch like him.”

Hearing him talk about König in such a way did weird things to your body. Anger began to rear its head. What kind of person talked about their commanding officer that way? You may not have been a full-blown soldier in the practical sense but you could never imagine speaking filth like that about your superiors.

“Just because you lack the self-control to be a decent human like him doesn’t mean everyone does,” you bit out through a glare, “I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last human on earth.”

He paused, eyebrows flying up in surprise, and, for one silly little moment, you’d thought you’d gotten through to him. Then reality struck hard with his fist across your face. A scream escaped your lips as the pain finally registered through the shock, your cheek aching to the heavens.

“Now, see, you just had to go and be a smart ass. And here König talked about how compliant you were. Don’t tell me you got a hardon for the colonel, sweetheart,” he touted with a cackle, “And, for your information, it wasn’t a request. Either you can suck it up and make this easy, or I’ll take what I want either way.”

Before he could do anything more, you tilted your head back and screamed, long and loud, for König. Of course that wasn’t allowed for very long. His second punch cut you off instantly, causing your vision to swim as you cried out again. You could hear him mutter something under his breath and you brought your eyes up only to find him drawing his fist back once more.

“Fuck!”

You braced for impact, tears slipping down your cheeks through your clenched eyes, but the sound of a door crashing open interrupted his assault. The sound of a solid thud and a scream of pain tore your attention to the sudden group piling into the room, then more specifically to your captor-turned-savior pinning your assailant to the floor by one knee on the smaller man’s back, his arms wrenched behind him in a way that looked horrifying. He was snarling words in a mixture of German and English but you weren’t able to make out a single thing as you watched on in awe while he slammed the man’s face repeatedly into the concrete floor.

“You are lucky I don’t kill you now!” König thundered, voice echoing through the room.

“I- I’m sorry, I-”

“Nein! Ich werde dich mit deinen eigenen Eingeweiden füttern, bevor du diesen Satz beenden kannst!”

Shivers crawled up your spine at the ruthless aggression in König’s voice. It was new, unexpected, and you were suddenly even more grateful not to have been on the receiving end of his anger.

“Take him to his room and see to it that he does not leave. I will deal with him later,” König hissed, shoving the now bruised and bloody soldier toward the two at the door.

“Yes, colonel, right away, sir.”

The moment the door closed, he deflated, shoulders slumping as he pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something under his breath. You watched carefully as he closed the gap between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, maus, are you hurt?”

And instantly, it was like that war-hardened soldier had never existed, replaced once again by the gentleman you’d spent the last few hours with. You shook your head slightly and watched him kneel before you. A little smile twitched up the corners of your lips in amusement as you realized he was still taller on his knees than you were sitting in the chair.

“Nothing that I can’t handle anyway,” you replied quietly, voice trailing off as his hands cupped your face gently.

His touch was tender in ways you hadn’t expected as he shifted your head around, taking in the damage with a sigh. Thankfully, other than a sore and swollen cheek, that asshole hadn’t gotten the chance to do anything more before König had returned.

“Thank you.”

The giant before you froze, looking as surprised as you felt. Had you really just thanked your captor? Face warming, you watched him watch you. You could have taken it back, but not only would that have been weird, it would have been a lie. Because as far as hostage situations went, this was the best one you could imagine, and he had just saved you from one of his own when he could have turned a blind eye. Instead, you waited patiently for him to react.

“Hurting someone defenseless is cowardly,” he muttered lowly.

So the infamously ruthless König had an honor code. Interesting. That explained a lot, really. If it weren’t for the fact you’d seen him kill multiple of your allied Shadows with a brutality unparalleled, you’d think he wasn’t the revered Operator he really was. The silence grew in leaps and bounds, a strange charge in the air between you, until the moment was interrupted by another untimely growl of your stomach.

“Ah, yes, food!”

He grabbed a brown paper bag from beside the door and brought it over only to pause once he was in front of you once more.

Confused, you watched on as his eyes darted around you in obvious thought before you finally broke the silence with a soft, “König?”

As if snapped out of a trance, he rushed over and snagged the black folding chair from across the room just to plop it loudly on the floor at your feet. He quickly took a seat and started opening the bag.

“I apologize but I can’t exactly unbind you,” he spoke softly, “Not yet, anyway.”

Your heart began to race at the implication. He was going to feed you. It was hard to decipher how you felt about it, a potent mixture of surprise, adoration, lust, and embarrassment hitting you all at once.

“O-Oh, okay,” you mumbled.

Eyes lowering, you watched in interest as he carefully peeled an apple and cut it into bite-sized slices with a fancy-looking pocket knife. It was hilarious how tiny his massive hands made the fruit seem. All humor drained from your thoughts when he picked up a piece and slowly brought it your way.

König’s eyes were wide beneath the sniper hood when you glanced up but you quickly dropped your gaze once more self-consciously as you parted your lips. Before you could stop it, a mortifying moan of delight fled your lips as you crunched into the deliciously sweet fruit, but you couldn’t find enough fucks to care as the hunger in your belly ramped up. When he picked up the next piece, you preemptively opened your mouth in wait.

This continued on for quite some time in a comfortable silence until you swallowed the last piece and you almost whined at the loss. Thankfully, it seemed he wasn’t done. He snagged a block from the bag next and your mouth watered as you finally realized it was a brick of cheese. Surprising, but delicious and welcomed nonetheless. The cheese passed much quicker as it was a small chunk and you couldn’t help but watch in elation as he grabbed another thing from the bag. It appeared to be the last of the food because he crumbled up the paper sack and tossed it aside before opening up the little red box.

“Do you like dark chocolate?” he asked suddenly.

A grin spread across your lips as you nodded a little too eagerly.

“Of course!”

You couldn’t tell for certain, thanks to the mask, but you were sure he smiled with the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. Why was that cute? That shouldn’t have been cute.

“These are from Germany,” he explained warmly, “A brand called Schogetten.”

He broke off one of the small pieces and brought it to your already parted lips. As the sweet morsel melted across your tongue, you went limp in disbelief, a little whine muffled in your closed mouth. You don’t know if it was because you hadn’t eaten in almost a day, or if it was the fact it was different than your usual chocolate back home, but the flavor was unparalleled. If all your dignity hadn’t already gone through the window, you wouldn’t have certainly lost it for that chocolate.

Piece after piece, he fed you dutifully and silently, until you were too full for more.

“I’m- I’m glad you enjoyed that.”

His voice was low, huskier than before, and it sent flutters through your heart.

Feeling much more relaxed and comfortable, you had to smile back in response, carefully nudging your foot against his much larger boot.

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” you replied.

That familiar weight of his gaze was on you once more but it didn’t take long to figure out why, one hand reaching out and steadying your face while his other thumb came to wipe your bottom lip.

“You have some chocolate here,” he mumbled.

It was sweet of him to help when you would have had no way of knowing. The feelings of adoration dissolved into something much darker when his hand went beneath his hood and you heard the audible pop of his thumb leaving his mouth.

OH.

It seemed he realized what he was doing at the same time as you, his posture going rigid as his eyes widened. A soft curse left him as he suddenly jerked his hand back down.

“I apologize. I don’t know what came over me.”

Fuck. Was this Stockholm syndrome? Did that set in this quickly? It wasn’t exactly a topic you’d researched much in your nursing classes. If it was… it certainly wasn’t a bad feeling.

Biting your lower lip, you tried to steady your breath as the flutters in your chest grew stronger.

“It’s okay,” you assured him.

Another bout of silence filled the space between you both, but this time you were practically vibrating in your seat from the anxious excitement thumping in your veins. As you stared into his half-lidded eyes, your thoughts went wild.

What was going to happen now? There was a static charge in the air and it made your skin bump up. How long did you have before your team came? Were they coming? Did you even want them to come now?

Your thoughts were brought to a screeching halt when he lunged forward, hands cradling your face carefully as his mouth smashed painfully hard against yours. It was a delicate juxtaposition and your brain took a few long seconds to register what was happening, but the instant you realized he was kissing you, you melted into it with a moan. The scratch of the hood against your lips was a unique texture but not entirely unpleasant, although you’d much rather have his lips bare.

The chair creaked with a loud groan as you tipped forward, eager for more of the Austrian and frustrated by the rope keeping you bound.

A huff of annoyance slipped out as you snapped beneath your breath, “Fucking rope!”

“Süßes mädchen,” König groaned low in his throat.

He pulled away just as suddenly as he’d started and you actually did whine out at that, not caring how pitiful you sounded, until you saw him take out the pocketknife. Fear bubbled acridly in your throat as you swallowed hard, eyes pinned to the blade as he flicked it out. König hadn’t hurt you yet. There was no reason to think he would now… right?

It became painfully obvious that your intuition was right when he stepped behind you and fingered the ropes.

“Stay still, maus, I don’t want to hurt you.”

You did as instructed and we were rewarded with the freedom to move as the rope snapped and fell away. With a long, loud, groan, you leaned back and stretched up to the ceiling, a dopey smile painted on your face as you loosened all the stiff muscles. As you relaxed back into the chair, you found König in front of you once more, almost looking nervous in his stiff posture.

“Thank you,” you said warmly.

When you stood, you were made acutely aware of just how short you were compared to him. You’d known he was tall but seeing him now, how far you had to crane your neck back to meet his gaze, it was so different.

“I’m trusting you not to try anything.”

His voice was tight, whether from excitement or worry you weren’t sure, and you immediately knew how you wanted to prove your trustworthiness. Grabbing one of his massive hands in both of yours, you pulled him over to the cot in the back corner of the room. It was almost comical how easily he followed you and allowed you to push him to sit on the bed but, as you stepped between his knees and got face to face, there was no denying who was actually in charge when your eyes met. If his physical presence wasn’t enough to deter you, the power in those beautiful blues was reminder enough.

“I think I owe you, for being so kind and for saving me,” you whispered, hands cupping his jaw to mimic the hold he’d had on you, “If that’s okay, sir.”

When he didn’t stop you, you took the chance to kiss him again. It was even better the second time around. The groan he let out against your lips was pornographic and you found your knees weakening as his arms wrapped around your thighs, hands resting right below your ass. It didn’t take long for your desire to overwhelm your thoughts and you broke the kiss with a gasp of air, carefully lowering to your knees between his legs. What you weren’t expecting was the absolute mind fuck it was to see such a big man looming above you, nor the way seeing his thick thighs on either side of your head would make your pussy throb.

“Well, süßes mädchen?” he teased, leaning back onto his hands.

What a sight that was; Black shirt pulled so tight across his body that every ridge of his muscles bumped through, dark green cargo pants now sporting a growing bulge, the intensity of his gaze staring you down with something akin to amusement and delight.

You could feel your hands shaking as you reached up. What little confidence you had previously was beginning to wane at the realization that you were going to actually be allowed to touch this adonis of a man. Taking a deep breath, you steeled your nerves and got on with it. To his credit, König didn’t push you to speed it up. In fact, he praised you softly with each touch. By the time you were pulling on his boxers to get his cock out, you were beyond soaked and arousal hummed like a bee through your body. The way it slapped against his stomach once free didn’t help your predicament one single bit.

“Holy shit.”

You weren’t a virgin by any means but the size of him made you pause in shock. Of course. A giant man would have a giant cock. What else did you expect? It was surprisingly beautiful too; surrounded by trimmed blonde hair, thick, long, and curved, flushed tip leaking and just begging to be sucked.

Swallowing hard, you let your fingers wrap around him and moaned when your fingers didn’t meet. If you were lucky enough to do more than suck him off, you were going to be sore… blissfully, happily, sore.

“Ah, scheiße, ja. That’s it, maus,” he purred, cock twitching in your hand.

Your face warmed under the praise. Leaning forward on your knees, you braced your hand against one of his thick thighs before bringing your lips to the tip of his cock, pressing a gentle kiss to the sensitive skin. The hiss he drew in was delightfully guttural. You needed to hear more of him, needed to earn that praise and pay him back for his unprovoked kindness. Slowly, you moved down his cock, planting kiss after kiss until you came to the base. He was nearly vibrating with need when you finally poked your tongue out, tracing up the veins branching along the underside.

With the way his body tensed, you’d almost thought you’d done something wrong but then his hand was in your hair, pulling it back as he guided your mouth to his head again.

“Stop teasing or I’ll bend you across my lap, Y/N,” he commanded gruffly.

The way your name sounded coming from his lips was deadlier than any poison. You wanted to hear it again and again, whispered in your ears and against your skin. Fuck.

Oh, and the mental images. How did you tell him that you wouldn’t mind him spanking you at all? Hmm, an option for later, maybe? Pushing the thoughts aside, you finally gave in to your temptations and licked up the precum around his head before taking him into your mouth.

“Heilige Scheiße!”

His moan was heavenly in the most sinful ways, only rivaled by the little breathless whimpers he let out as you hollowed out your cheeks and slowly sucked him down. You knew there was no way you’d be able to fit the entirety of him, your jaw already aching from the stretch, but you were going to fit as much as humanly possible. Inch by difficult inch, you took him until he was pressing dangerously hard against your throat. Unfortunately, you couldn’t get your body to relax enough to take him in- your body’s self-preservation too strong- but you quickly thought of a loophole.

Pulling back suddenly, you gasped out, “Push me down.”

“Huh?”

Giving him a coy smile, you said, “I know I can’t push past my body’s limits, but you can fix that. I want you in my throat so, please, just… push me down?”

His entire being shuddered and he took in a sharp breath as if he were going to argue, but finally, he relented with a nod. Flashing him a wink, you wrapped your lips around him once more.

“Take a breath,” he instructed softly.

You barely got a lungful in before he arched into your face. Tears welled up in your eyes as he thrust in deep, saliva pooling in your mouth as you gagged around him, but you were able to relax just enough for him to push through. Mortification clawed at your brain as both tears and drool spilled out the instant he began to fuck your mouth, but worse was the embarrassing noises that escaped your throat. Thankfully he didn’t seem as perturbed by them, possibly even enjoying them if his groans were any indication.

Blinking away the tears, you looked up at him and were rewarded with a pained moan.

“Scheiße, kleines maus, you look so perfect like this,” he groaned, “That pretty little mouth feels so- ah- so good.”

When he let you up, you inhaled a quick breath before going back down. Now feeling more comfortable with the sensations, you brought your hands back into play, one pumping the base of his cock while the other wiggled beneath his boxers to stroke his balls. It wasn’t long before you could hear little frantic whimper leaving his lips. The way his breath hitched and his fingers tightened painfully in your hair told you all you needed. You quickened your pace and played into the sucking noises that he seemed to relish.

“A-Ah, fuck, I’m going to cum. B-Bitte. Bitte, bitte, bitte. Don’t stop!”

A flush of heat rushed through your core and you couldn’t help but moan around him. Something about hearing such a powerful man reduced to a pleasured mess was both arousing and flattering. His strangled gasp was the only warning you got before he slammed you down, hips arching into your face as his cock throbbed in your throat.

Eyes burning and throat aching, you managed to pull up just enough to breathe and used your saliva to pump his cock faster.

“Come for me, König, please,” you begged him weakly before taking him in your mouth again, your tongue laving his head lovingly.

Almost instantly, he broke, rope after rope of cum filling your mouth as he groaned your name. As you looked up at him, you wished you could see his face, see more than just the squint of his eyes as you sucked him dry. Unfortunately, you knew you couldn’t ask that of him… yet. Maybe if you were lucky enough to be around him more, eventually you could earn that trust.

It wasn’t until he was shuddering and tugging on your hair that you finally pulled back, content that he’d ridden out that wave as long as he could. A satisfied smile curled up your lips as you leaned your head against his thigh and watched him intently. The heavy rise and fall of his chest was enrapturing. What would it feel like to curl up against him and use those muscles as a pillow?

You were torn from your daydreams when he patted his other thigh.

“Up, now,” he demanded.

Lifting your brows in shock, you let him guide you up onto the cot and sat on his thighs as commanded.

“Yes, sir?” you asked curiously.

König didn’t answer. Instead, a hand came to the back of your skull and jerked you forward while he sat up, a squeal of shock escaping as you fell against him hard. Before you could question him, a mouth was over yours. A decidedly bare mouth. No hood to impede it. Realization sent a shiver through your body and you couldn’t help but reach up and hold his jaw. Prickles of a shadow beard tickled your palms and fingers with each caress. There was no denying his jaw was strong, angular almost, as you soaked in the sensations. God you wanted to see him even more now. Your exploration was cut short when you felt the breach of a tongue between your lips and a hand between your thighs simultaneously.

“König,” you gasped out softly against his mouth.

The chuckle he let out caused your core to clench in need.

“You didn’t think that I was done with you, did you, maus?”

He didn’t give you the chance to respond, tongue filling your mouth with vigor as you melted into him. You were suddenly very thankful that you’d been captured in your pajamas when his hand slipped easily beneath the elastic waist of your silky shorts. He let out a hungry groan when his fingers came into direct contact with your skin.

“No panties?” he asked, amusement and lust heavy in his voice, “How lucky for me.”

His words made you blush but the embarrassment was easily forgotten when one long finger ran down your cunt, tracing your slit in teasing strokes.

“You’re already so wet, mein schatz.”

A broken snicker fled your lips as he tenderly slid two fingers between your lips and you whimpered out, “It’s not my fault you’re- fuck!”

“I’m what?” he teased.

He made it impossible to respond, the calloused pad of his fingers making little swirls around your nub, just on the right side of not enough.

“You-You’re, fuck, you’re- Ugh, you’re making it hard to talk!” you squeaked out.

König let out a long rumbling laugh that felt way too nice against your chest.

“Try, maus, tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Fuck, you’re so sweet, and you’re big, and your eyes are beautiful, and- and-” a pitiful squeal interrupted your train of thought when he slowly slipped a single finger into your cunt.

“Annnd?” he purred.

“I love your voice, fuck, I could listen to you read a dictionary!” you groaned.

“Mmm, good girl.”

Your knees went weak and your cunt clenched around his finger as your eyes flew open to meet his in surprise.

“Ah, you like that, hmm? You like to hear what a good girl you’re being for me?” he asked, not-so-subtly grinding up against you with an already hardening bulge, “You’re being absolutely perfect, mein schatz. This little cunt gripping so tight. Almost as tight as your throat was on my cock. I’m almost afraid to take you.”

“No, please, please do, please! I can take it!”

“Oooh, I know you can, süßes mädchen, don’t worry,” he hummed, quickening his finger as he twisted his palm to rest against your clit.

Your forehead fell against his shoulder in utter defeat as you lost all inhibitions, grinding down against his palm with each thrust he gave. It was ridiculous how close you already felt with so little stimulation but there was no denying the ways your walls were flutter around him. Pleasure swirled through your core, growing tighter and tighter, until all you could think about was how fucking good he felt and how you wanted his cock in you, now.

A needy whimper fell from your lips when he suddenly pulled his hand away and you jerked back in his lap to stare at him in disbelief.

“Wha-”

Your voice went silent as you watched the way his tongue cleaned up his glistening fingers with a moan. Fuck. That was it. You were good and ruined.

“I want to make sure you are good and ready, mein schatz, so lay down for me.”

Before you could even move, he picked you up as if you were nothing and dumped you onto the cot. It took a second for your brain to catch up, too shocked by the show of strength, and by then he was lying on the comically small bed on his stomach, mouth pressing hungry kisses to the insides of your soft thighs.

“Mein Gott, you are so beautiful,” he groaned quietly, “So soft. So sweet.”

Instinctively, you slapped your hands over your face and let out a whine. No way was this beast of a man not only going down on you, but he was going to kill you with compliments while he did it.

Almost instantly, your hands were thrown aside and you gaped at him in confusion, only to see his full lips curved up into a smirk, mask tucked behind his ears to expose even more of his beautiful features.

“None of that now. You will not hide from me. I want to see that pretty face when I make you scream.”

Yep. You were dead. Dead and gone to heaven. When they raided the camp, you had just been killed with all your allies and this was some fucked up kind of reward for all your good deeds.

All existential thoughts were wiped clean from your mind when you felt him tugging your shorts down. You quickly helped him, unable to stop the giggle that escaped when he tossed them aside with a curse. And then you were bare before him. He looked like a man starved and you were given no warning before he dived in.

“Oh, fuck!” you gasped.

Big hands wrapped around your thighs and tugged you closer, throwing your legs over his shoulders before moving to part your lips for his tongue. Before you could get used to the sensation, he thrust two fingers in your cunt, punching all the air from your lungs.

“Scheiße kleines,” he groaned against your skin, “You taste so good. I could live between these thighs.”

It was all too much. The swirl of his tongue on your clit, the girth of his fingers pressing oh-so-perfectly against that sweet spot only your toys could reach, the feel of his facial hair scraping against your sensitive skin. And then he added a third finger into the mix.

“Ho-Holy fuck! König, ohmygodfuck!”

You nearly collapsed in around him but he was quick to catch your legs, holding them apart with a hand and elbow on either side, his forearm pressing deliciously against your lower belly. That pressure alone sent you rocketing to the edge. Instinctively you reached down to grab his hair, only to come into contact with the fabric, and you couldn’t help but whine in frustration. You really wanted to touch him more.

As if understanding your plight, he slowed until only his fingers were pumping in and out and lifted slightly. Something was brewing in his beautiful blues when they met your gaze.

“I can’t take off the mask, mein schatz, I’m sorry,” he sighed.

“It-It’s okay!” you assured him quickly, “I understand!”

Despite your words, he kept staring at you, the sounds of his fingers sliding through your arousal the only noise in the room.

“Here, close your eyes for a moment.”

You did as told, swallowing hard in anticipation, and then his hand grabbed yours. Your heart felt like it was trying to escape your chest as he guided your fingers below the hood into his short hair. It was a bit longer than you expected, having thought he would have a regulation military fade cut, and softer.

“Thank you,” you whispered, tears invading your closed eyes.

“Of course, maus.”

How in the actual fuck was this stranger- a literal mass killer- you’d met a day ago more in tune with your needs and willing to compromise than literally any other man you’d been with?

A gasp tore from your throat, harsh and raw, when he immediately returned to his previous act. Somehow it was even more intense after the brief break; frantic, almost painful.

“König, pl-please. Don’t stop!”

His moan was the only response you got. Rather than take your words as an invitation to go harder or faster like most did, he listened and listened well, keeping the same even pace, building you steadily higher and higher. Words and thoughts became impossible, incoherent pleading and wanton moans the only sounds you could make as you began to shake around him. Your fingers snarled in his locks in a way that was probably painful but you couldn’t find the wherewithal to stop.

“Ja, that’s it, maus,” he demanded, “Be a good girl and come for me.”

Within seconds, that ever-tightening knot in your gut broke. You tried to scream but the pleasure left you mute, lips parted in a silent cry of his name as wave after wave of ecstasy rolled through your being. When your breath finally came, so did the tears.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck, so- mm!- so good!”

Just as it became too much, he lifted from your pussy with a heady groan.

“Verdammt, sieh dich an, kleine Maus.”

The moment the orgasm haze started to clear, you reached down and snagged his shirt, tugging on it to get him over you. He relented with a little chuckle when you whined his name.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, clean fingers gently tracing along your jawline.

“Okay? The fuck you think? I’m absolutely dead in the best way,” you giggle, finally opening your eyes to meet his, “But… I still want you.”

Wrapping your legs around his hips, you reached up at the same time and carefully pushed the hood back up, just enough to reveal his lips, your own curving up into a gleeful smile as you saw them.

“Can I?” you asked hesitantly.

His answer came as the brutal crush of his lips on yours, pulling a moan from deep in your chest. As his tongue dominated yours, you took the initiative to reach between your bodies and palmed his cock, delighting in the way he whined.

“Please, please fuck me,” you begged against his mouth.

“Couldn’t refuse you even if I wanted to,” he hummed back.

You helped guide him as he lowered his hips to yours, unable to stop the gasp that escaped when you felt his fat head against your entrance.

“You’re sure?” he asked suddenly.

Brows furrowing, you dug your nails into his neck lightly and pulled him into another hungry kiss.

“If you don’t fuck me, I might die.”

That earned a warm laugh, a laugh that made your insides light up too bright, and a swift smack to the ass.

“Well, we wouldn't want that, now would we?”

When he began to push in, you tried so hard to keep your eyes open, wanting to see the expression in his, but it was too overwhelming. Despite his thorough prep, it’d been quite a dry spell for hookups due to work and it didn’t help that he was absolutely massive. It was a stretch, to say the least, but it hurt in all the best ways.

“Oh mein gott,” König hissed into your mouth, “You are so tight, Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m pretty sure you’re just hung, big guy,” you teased through shaky breaths, “It’s- It’s good though.”

“So fucking good.”

The metallic tang of blood filled your mouth when he suddenly caught your lips again, this time with too much teeth and force, but it only made you moan. The pain of a split lip was nothing compared to the delight of his cock stretching your walls. It felt like forever until his hips were against yours, but once they finally were, you were already needing more. You tried to rock your hips into him only for him to stop you with a bruising grip and a dark growl. His eyes were predatory when you found them and it lit another kind of fire in your belly.

“Dont. Do. That,” he bit out gruffly, “Don’t move. Give me a second, mein schatz, or it’s going to be over far too soon.”

Pride fluttered to life in your chest at his admission and you couldn’t help but grin, earning another cheeky smack.

“You’re enjoying this? My pain?” he teased warmly.

You pouted slightly but couldn’t maintain the look, too enraptured by his pretty blues.

“I have to admit that it feels good to know you’re as affected as me,” you whispered.

He groaned, forehead falling against yours, and muttered, “You have no idea, my love. You feel- Gott, I can’t even describe it. I’ve never felt someone who fit me so perfectly.”

Lips quirking up into a teasing smile, you replied, “I guess you’ll have to keep me around then, hmm? Because I can promise you, you’ve ruined all other men for me at this point.”

König groaned and his hips rutted eagerly at your words.

“Don’t tempt me, süßes mädchen,” he moaned, “I would love nothing more than to steal you and keep you here, all mine, to have whenever I wanted.”

As he spoke, you fell more and more in love with the idea. And why shouldn’t you? This was the most romance you’d experienced in years, all your previous conquests being quick flings with soldiers who barely qualified as friends. König was the first one to truly see you in years.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, maus, you’re making this hard.”

Biting your lower lip, you tested a little wiggle against his hips and were elated when he allowed it.

“I’m already here, König, who says you have to let me go?” you whispered, “For all they know, I’m just another casualty.”

Logically you knew you shouldn’t feed into the delusion plaguing you both right now, but fuck did you want it. Something about the idea of being at his beck and call, being allowed to please him whenever either of you wanted, was a deliciously dangerous option.

Suddenly, he drew out his hips and slammed back in with a strangled grunt.

“You want that, hmm? Want to be my personal little whore, maus?”

The way you clenched around him made you both whimper and you instantly wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a heated kiss.

“Yes, yes, please! Wanna be allowed to have you whenever,” you whined, “Want you to use me.”

Your nails found his shoulders and dug into the firm muscles there as the sound of your bodies meeting clouded the room. But you needed more, needed to feel more of him. Logically you knew you both needed to stay as clothed as possible, considering you could be interrupted any moment, but you couldn’t resist the urge to touch him. Slipping your hands under the hem of his shirt, you slid your nails up the length of his back, dragging the material with you until it gathered at his shoulders and you were granted the absolutely stunning visual of his abdomen clenching with each thrust of his hips.

“God you’re beautiful,” you gasped out subconsciously.

The noise König let out was unholy, deep and keening, as his fingers tightened on your hips once more. Even through the haze of bliss, you could see the way his cheeks lit bright red. It would be cute if he weren’t currently fucking you silly.

“That’s-That’s my line, maus,” he chuckled breathlessly.

Eyes trailing back up to his, you couldn’t resist leaning up as you pulled him down against you once more, your lips finding his ear with a little moan.

“Then we’re both beautiful, König, because- fuck!”

His pace grew brutal without warning as he shifted and suddenly it felt like he was slamming right against your cervix, the sharp pinch of pain making you yelp in surprise. It was clear the praise was doing something, a fact you stored away in your memory for later. Then he hit your cervix again. You almost tried to pull back until his hand left your hip, coming between your bodies to rub gentle circles across your clit. Fuck and that made the pain more than worth it.

“Kö-König, close, please, just-”

He groaned lowly and grunted out, “I know, I know. I’ve got you, mein schatz. Just relax and let go for me.”

You finally released your hold on his back only to cup his jaw and draw him into a frantic kiss, panting out half-mumbled half-screamed moans as he tongued at your mouth. It was all too much. It was the best thing you’d ever experienced. When your climax finally hit, it felt like the world turned up on end. Collapsing back on the bed, you slapped a hand over your mouth to somewhat muffle the scream that escaped, but König had none of that. One big hand collected both of yours and pinned them to the bed by your wrists.

“No! Let me hear what I do to you,” he snarled, “I want to hear every pretty little sound!”.

Looking up through wet eyelashes, you couldn’t stop the enamored smile that crossed your lips even as you whimpered for him. He looked so fucking good over you. What you wouldn’t give to see that sight every damn day.

“Why are you so smiley?” he asked, amusement lacing his tone as he slowed his pace.

“Just really fucking happy,” you giggled softly, “You feel so damn good and look just as amazing.”

König’s lips twitched into a half smile before he shifted in place, keeping your hands pinned while he carefully lifted one leg up over his shoulder. Before he even moved, you could tell your body was going to resist the change in depth. Not that you would stop him. He could demand you attempt a headstand while he fucked you and you’d do it.

“Oh FUCK!”

Your shriek earned a broken moan from the man above you but it didn’t stop him for even a moment, hips slamming into you with purpose. Fingers curling tight, you dug your nails into his hand and bit your lip hard to keep a hold of your senses, though it was for naught. The way his fat cock buried into your tight walls over and over was more than you could handle. You wanted to beg him to stop and to keep going until you died.

“So tight for me, süßes mädchen,” he groaned huskily as his free hand came back to your clit, “One more.”

“Eh!?” you gasped in disbelief.

He grunted out a laugh and said, “Come for me, one more time. I want to feel you coming again before this is over.”

You shook your head violently and retorted, “I can’t.”

Even as you said it, he was easily proving your words wrong with his gentle stroking contrasting with the way he pounded your swollen cunt. His fingers tightened until it felt like your wrists would break under the force and yet you couldn’t find it in you to care, all self-preservation long gone.

“You can and you will, mein schatz. I am nothing but a patient man.”

A pathetic whimper tumbled from your parted lips as you panted for breath beneath the exhaustion of it all. Suddenly though, he slows, releasing your hands and letting your leg fall aside.

“König, wh-”

He silences you as he falls completely over you once more, the heavy feeling of his body against yours making you sigh happily. It only takes a moment to realize his reasoning, hands pushing your hair away while plush lips begin kissing along your neck.

“Mmmm,” you hummed softly, fingers slipping up the back of his hood to find his hair again, “That feels incredible.”

“You taste incredible,” he replied through a mouthful of your flesh, “Though, I must admit, my intentions aren’t so pure.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he bit down hard, hard enough that you reflexively yanked on his hair and screeched. The pain dulled to a low throb when he started licking and sucking over the wound, and you clenched hard around him when he rolled his hips into yours.

“You’re gonna kill me,” you whined breathlessly.

“Only with pleasure, maus,” he said with a chuckle, “Would never hurt a hair on this pretty little head.”

Your heart fluttered traitorously at that. Deciding to return the favor, you moved aside his hood enough to reveal his thick, pale, neck and started kissing along the warm flesh.

“Ah, s-scheiße.”

Poking your tongue out, you traced a line up to his ear and moaned at the taste of salt and skin. Even his sweat was driving you crazy. What was this man doing to you?

The slow motions quickly turned into something much more primal when you wrapped your legs around his waist and sunk your teeth into his throat.

“Oh, du kleine Füchsin!”

Groaning, you released his neck and whispered, “Fuck, I love hearing you talk.”

“Then I shall talk to you,” he grunted through moans, “What should I say? Should I tell you how good you feel, how perfect you grip me? That I never want to leave this tight little cunt? How divine you look when you’re drunk on my cock?”

Despite your earlier protests, you could feel another orgasm brewing fast under his words and you let him know.

“Ja, you going to come for me, aren’t you, schatz?”

“Oh god yeah, yes, please, keep- keep-”

You pulled his hair taut as your limbs drew him in close, silently demanding to feel every inch of his body against yours, and his name spilled from your lips like a mantra. This one came up just as fast but much calmer, creeping up silently and taking you by surprise with its voracity. Something deep inside you snapped and you could feel your arousal gush down your cunt, coating your cheeks and the cloth beneath you.

“Fuck, mein schatz, where- mein Gott, where do you want it?” he gasped out as you clenched around him.

You didn’t even give it a second thought, locking your legs and pulling him into a ravenous kiss.

“In me, please, I’m- I’m on birth control. I need to feel it in me,” you whined weakly into his mouth.

His curses were muffled by your lips but their intensity wasn’t lost on you, the mumbled praises only adding to the flush on your skin. You bit his lower lip gently and suckled all while your nails scraped against his scalp and shoulders, doing your best to pull him under with you.

“Oh, that’s my girl. My good girl,” he snarled, “Mine. All mine!”

Stars burst behind your eyes as he buried his cock as far as possible in your walls, the throbbing sending little pulses of ecstasy through your veins as you tried hard to focus on working him through it. You only hoped you could return even a fraction of the bliss he put you through.

A long, loud groan reverberated through the now silent walls as he went limp- though stubbornly keeping all his weight from pressing on you- and you had to smile to yourself, fingers now playing through his soft strands gently, in a silent apology for nearly ripping them out.

“I’m going to move, hold onto me,” he instructed you quietly.

You did as asked but the way he flipped your bodies over was still a shock. You instinctively tried to lift off of him only to be jerked back down, massive arms locking around you and holding you to his chest.

“You are not going to hurt me, Y/N,” he murmured, “Rest. Relax.”

“O-Okay,” you whispered.

Face red, you fought all those negative inner thoughts away and gave in, earning a content little sigh from the big man.

“You know, I never thought I’d have the best sex of my life while being a captive,” you joked easily, turning your head to rest your chin on your forearm, allowing you to observe him closely, “Where have you been all my life?”

Your head bobbled like a boat on the ocean with each hearty laugh that left him and your heart clenched in delight at the pure joy in his eyes.

“Waiting for you apparently, maus, took you long enough to get here.”

There was something strange in the way he looked at you, the tenderness in his touch as he held your face and stroked your lips, but your cockdrunk, touch-hungry, brain decided it couldn’t care less. All that mattered was how it made you feel, and God did it ever make you feel perfect.

#König #könig cod #könig x reader #König smut #COD smut #call of duty fanfic

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crymeariveronceagain · 2 years

Note

Heyyyyy Riverrrrrrr

I'm sad.

So mini rant ig???

Cool? Cool.

So like my total bff since like the fifth grade, right? She just got pissed at me. Like, we're talking 10000%, full blown rage fest on me, because apparently I wasn't talking to her enough? And yeah, maybe I wasn't spending a ton of time with her, but she also wasn't talking to me at all either. Plus, it was out of no where, and she just got pissed.

So anywayyy she told me she didn't want to be friends and that I was a "toxic friend because I didn't help her with her problems," but. Um. She didn't tell me her problems, and I was always trying to be kind. Apparently I just . . . wasn't good enough.

She also said she didn't like my personality because it was too . . . soft? She was like "you're just a soft girl that likes to read and do art and scrolls through Pinterest and we just don't mesh "

And I was like ????? What???? Like me being gentle and kind and not mean and not a jerk is a bad thing?

Idk but she basically hates me now, so that's fun, and apparently I have a bad personality.

.......

darling anon i am so sorry

that is so rough

like idk what else to say

im so sorry <3

I've been through similar things, and I know how all that stuff feels.

First of all. Sometimes you're not going to be enough for people. Sometimes people suck like that. You do not have to be enough for everyone. You're not going to be good enough, smart enough, funny enough. But to the right people, that won't matter. Because they'll like you for you. Not because you give them something like advice or let them use your art supplies or something. But because they love you. Love doesn't mean that someone's good enough. It means looking someone in the eyes and saying "I see where you're broken, I see where you're imperfect. And I want what's best for you anyway."

Secondly, none of this is your fault. One of the few best memories I have of one of my old friends is his text message of "Be yourself. No matter what. And if they don't like you then screw 'em." I kept that phrase on my wall for years, because it just filled something in my chest. If you're the soft, readerly, kind hearted girl that other people who don't like soft, readerly, kind hearted girls don't want to be around, I'd say that's a good kind of person to be.

Thirdly. Fuck her and her ideas of who you are <3 You cannot be reduced to one idea. You're a whole and complete person. And you've got dark and light, bad and good, all in you. You're not one simple caricature of something, drawn by her hand. You're not as simple as she wants you to be. Your personality isn't bad. You are yours. If you don't like something about yourself, change it. If you're content, stay content, and slowly work on making yourself a little bit better(because there's always better to strive for). Just. Be content with yourself because clearly your friend had absolutely no idea who you were, if she could reduce you to such a picturesque image of an artsy pinterest reader girl so easily.

Fourthly, this stuff hurts more than breakups. Because friends are supposed to be on your side, longer and harder and stronger. Friends don't have fluffy big emotions. It's all supposed to be easy, strong, and good with friends. They're your back up plan, your personal support team. They're who you call to spend time with for fun, for parties, for birthdays. Believe me, I know how it hurts. I think one of the worst days of my life I spent crying my eyes out in my mother's arms, because my friends had decided that I didn't matter to them anymore, and that they didn't care. So, beloved, grab a thing of ice cream. Grab a sad spotify playlist(may I reccomend mine? it's personally curated and amassed from sad friendship songs/breakup songs that work anyway) and feel some stuff. Because this hurts. This hurts a lot. It always does.

Fifth, if she hates you, let her. Don't bother picking it back up. She seems toxic af, and you deserve better friends. As someone who had toxic friends, it's not worth it. They tire you out, wear you down. They make you exhausted and sad. Leave it be. Don't start anything up until she reaches out again. It's just... it's not worth it. You will find better people. Better friends. Stronger friends. They're all out there waiting for you. Let this moment pass you by. Let her go, as much as it hurts. I lost by best friend of 10 years in a fight that took fifteen minutes. Never spoke to her again. But I'm so much better off without her. And my new best friend? By all the stars in the world, she'd never put me through what my old friend did. Let your friend go. It's going to be okay. I promise you.

I'm so sorry you have to go through this kind of thing. It's rough. I'm so sorry. It will get better. But, in the words of Fall Out Boy, "Sometimes before it gets better, the darkness gets bigger, the person you'd take a bullet for is the one behind the trigger."

So just.

Feel something tonight.

Drown in it for a bit, if you need to. But be sure to sit up. The water is only knee deep. If you sit up, you'll be able to breathe okay again. I promise.

Love you, anon.

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therealcocoshady · 20 days

Text

Recovery - Chapter 34

Eminem x FemReader Fanfiction

Summary : Thanksgiving is just around the corner and Reader is planning Talia and Jamal's wedding when unexpected news happen.

Tags : Angst

TW : Mention of drug use - Mention of pregnancy

Author's Note : I hope you enjoy the chapter ❤️

Y/N’s POV

Ever since Marshall had informed you that Kim would be there for Thanksgiving, you were a little bit freaked out. However, you didn’t really bring up the topic, and neither did your boyfriend. After the conversation, you spent a few days pondering whether or not you should try and escape the situation. Not being American, Thanksgiving wasn’t important to you anyway so you wouldn’t mind skipping it or celebrating it the same way you had done since you came to the US - with Talia and Jamal.

When you moved to Detroit, you quickly befriended Talia at the beginning of the school year. You were planning on spending your first Thanksgiving in your dorm room, on your own, watching a crappy movie and eating ramen, but she wouldn’t have it and invited you to spend the day with her, her boyfriend and her family. At first, you declined the invitation but she basically forced you to go and that’s how you met Jamal, as well as Talia’s mother and her three sisters. You got along with everyone and had an official, standing invitation for every holiday, your best friend’s family being just as warm and welcoming as her. Even when you were with your ex, you spent Thanksgiving with Talia. This year would be your first time celebrating it with someone else. When you told her about the change of plans, she was happy for you but made it clear that you would be missed. To be fair, you would miss them too. You didn’t know too much about how everyone else celebrated Thanksgiving, but Talia’s family certainly made it fun : everyone would spend the day cooking together in a relaxed atmosphere, making jokes, dancing to some 80s tunes and playing board games.

You didn’t mind skipping this in order to celebrate with the man you loved, but knowing his ex-wife would be there certainly made you reconsider. However, he made it clear that he was looking forward to celebrating with you and told you how important it was for him that you be there.

It’s a family holiday, he said. We’re officially living together, it doesn’t make sense to spend it apart, Y/N. We’re family, now.

We’re still very new, you reminded him. What will your family think ?

As far as they’re concerned, you can do no wrong, he chuckled. Apparently, they’re all relieved that my grumpy ass found someone who is actually willing to put up with me. And they all know and like you already.

Except for your ex, you pointed out.

Is that what it’s really about ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.

You sighed and did not reply. Part of you thought that it was a good thing that Marshall and Kim were on friendly terms, for the sake of their daughters. It was a proof of maturity on their part and you had heard enough stories from your friends with divorced parents to know that it was actually a good thing. Everyone would like for their parents to be able to get along after a divorce. But being the partner of someone who was divorced made it a little challenging. After all, no one expected to spend a holiday with their boyfriend’s ex-wife, let alone relished the idea.

I told you it will be fine, he said as he hugged you from behind while you were doing your skincare before bed. And it’s not just her, anyway. Everyone else will be there.

Yes but she’s the only one I haven’t met yet, you said sheepishly. What if she hates me ?

Why would she hate you ? He scoffed.

Because I’m your girlfriend… Duh ?

Look, Y/N, he said as he took your hands in his. Yes, Kim is my ex, and yes, we have a long and complicated history. But any form of romantic feeling between us is long gone. There won’t be any jealousy… On her part, at least.

The end of his comment made you raise an eyebrow.

You think I’m jealous of her ? You asked.

I don’t know, he said with a smile. Are you ?

I guess not, you shrugged. I do have many questions, though.

So we’re gonna have that talk, huh ? He asked with a sigh.

Do you mind ?

No offense, babe, but even if I did… I know you well-enough to know that you’d toss and turn all night, and you'll drive yourself crazy and me as well. I love you, and I want to get some sleep tonight, so for both our sakes, let’s get this over with, he chuckled.

Thank you, you said shyly as you felt your face redden a bit.

You both sat in bed and you were nervously tugging on your nightgown, not really knowing where to start.

I don’t have all night, though, he said playfully. Just ask your damn questions, babe.

Did she sleep here ? You asked, as it was the first question that popped into your head - hell, maybe you were in her spot !

In this room or in this bed ? He asked. This is the master bedroom, so yeah, we slept here. The bed and mattress are new, though, if that’s any comfort. Next question ?

Do you miss her, sometimes ? You asked nervously.

He glanced at you and shook his head with a smile.

What kind of question is that, Y/N ? He simply asked. Really ? You’re asking me if I miss her ?

Can you blame me for wondering, though ? Everyone knows she’s the love of your life, your high-school sweetheart and stuff…

Everyone also knows that our marriages were utter failures and that we drove each other crazy, he stated with an eye roll.

So you never think about her ? You asked.

That’s a different question. Of course I think about her often.

Often ?! What the hell did he mean by that ? As he saw the expression on your face - that probably resembled that of a deer in headlights - he let out a laugh.

I told you, babe, we have a history and three daughters, he said. Of course I think about her, whether it’s something about the girls or simply memories. I can’t erase twenty-plus years from my brain, you know ? But it doesn’t mean I miss her. I used to, for sure, but I don’t. Not anymore. You can think of the good times you had with someone without missing the relationship.

I guess, you said. How do you feel about her now, then ?

I mean… She’s the mother of my children and that will never change. In that regard, I respect her, because she’s doing her best to be a good mom, too. I might not always agree with her, in fact there’s a lot of shit we disagree on, but she’s high in my esteem. Also because she put up with a lot of me and my shit, he said.

Do you have feelings for her ? You blurted out before you were able to hold back the words.

As soon as you spoke these words, he frowned and shook his head. He sighed and took your hand in his, interlocking your fingers.

I just told you I don’t miss her, he said. So no, I don’t have feelings for her. Not romantic, at least. I do have affection for her, though, in a way. I care for her and I don’t want anything bad happening to her. If she ever needs me, I’m here. I told you before - whether we like it or not, Kim and I will always be family. So I will always be there to support her.

You nodded, a bit lost in your thoughts. He pulled you in his arms and leaned in, his forehead resting against yours while his piercing blue gaze held yours.

I need you to understand something, baby, he said. Nothing I’m saying here affects the way I feel about you. Just because I care for Kim doesn’t mean I don’t love you. You are the woman I love and the one who makes me happy, and no one will change that.

Ok, you said as you nodded softly. I love you too, you know ?

And even if she did hate you, which she won’t, you’re the one person I chose to share my life with. Whether anyone likes it or not, you are my girl and they have to respect that. And I know she does, he said.

Ok, you said. Does she know that we live together here ?

She does, he nodded.

And that I’m… You know… Younger ?

Yes, that too, he chuckled. I mean, I told her about you before so she knows a couple of things. She knows your name, your age, what you do in life, part of our story and, most of all, she knows I am head over heels in love with you.

When did you tell her all that ? You asked, a bit surprised.

I talked about you on a couple of occasions, he explained. When we got together, and a couple of months after our breakup, too. We don’t speak or see each other too often, but we keep up with each other’s life.

He was smiling, which was sort of reassuring. His transparency made you feel at peace and, even though you were still a bit anxious, you eased up. You smiled back and kissed him on the cheek.

Thank you for reassuring me, you said softly. I think you got yourself a night without me tossing and turning.

Good, he chuckled. I get how weird it must be for you, you know ? But I’m sure everything will be fine. It’s just Thanksgiving.

You smiled and nuzzled his neck as he held you in his arms, tracing circles on your shoulder.

I love you, Marshall.

I love you too, Y/N. And I’m really happy we’re celebrating our first holiday together, he added.

That’s a milestone, you said.

The first of many, many more, he said with a smile before pressing a kiss to your temple.

So… What does a typical Thanksgiving look like in the Mathers household ? You asked. What should I expect ?

Just classic Thanksgiving stuff, you know ? He shrugged.

Well I only ever celebrated at Talia’s family’s, so… I don’t know, you chuckled. In my experience, it involves Talia’s mom preaching about how good God is and the blessings he gives, lots of cooking, lots of eating, board games and Talia’s sisters arguing over who Jamal prefers !

Sometimes I forget you’re not from here, he chortled. No preaching here, but lots of eating, just hanging out together, talking, watching movies, playing games… And I have my basketball tradition with Nate.

Let me guess ? You usually win ? You asked with a grin.

I lost the last one, actually, he chuckled. But I’ll definitely humiliate him this year. I have a lady to impress, I can’t lose.

If you win, I’ll give you something to look forward to, you said teasingly.

Like what ? He asked with a smirk.

Win and you’ll see, you replied with a wink.

I have an entire week left before the game, he said. Believe me, I’m going to train for victory.

You giggled and kissed him softly before turning the lights off. You were a little reassured and figured that, even though your first Thanksgiving with him would be a bit stressful, you would get to admire him all sweaty on the basketball court and that would be absolutely worth it.

In the week leading up to Thanksgiving, you were busy with wedding stuff and maid of honor duties. Talia and Jamal had yet to set a date for the wedding but that didn’t prevent your best friend from giving you tasks such as browsing ideas, looking at dress designers and searching for venues. You gladly obliged : you had sent out a few applications for jobs but you hadn’t gotten any answers yet and you were starting to get a bit bored. You would have gladly taken care of the house or garden, but there was staff hired for that and the only thing you could do to help around the house was to cook dinner for Marshall when he came back from work. You enjoyed it but it was clearly not enough to fill your days and you were starting to feel like one of those rich, bored housewives. Helping Talia with the wedding was a welcome distraction and you took the task with the utmost seriousness. You had always been a sucker for weddings and you knew full well it would be the only one you would get to organize so you decided to enjoy it. Every day after she got off from work, your friend would come to your place and your living room was soon filled with bridal magazines and moodboards for what was set to be the wedding of the century. Jamal’s work as a renowned beatmaker allowed them to have a very comfortable lifestyle and he had made clear that, whatever Talia wanted for the wedding, she would get. And she happened to have expensive taste, as well as a never-ending guest list.

I will never find a venue, she loudly complained. I either hate the places we’re looking at, or they’re simply not big enough.

You let out a sympathetic laugh. With the immense guest list they had, it was no surprise that finding a venue would be challenging. It seemed like every single person they had ever met would be invited.

We will find something, you said with a smile. Or maybe you could try and shrink the guest list ?

Jamal put you up to this, didn’t he ? She sighed. He keeps on telling me that we should keep it small. If it were up to him, we would elope…

That could be super romantic, you know, you said tentatively. I mean… How many people on your guest list do you actually keep in touch with anyway ?

I want my princess wedding, she said. You don’t know what it is. You’ll see when you get engaged !

I’m not getting married, you reminded her. Marshall doesn’t want to get married. You know it, I know it, everybody knows it.

I can’t believe you’re willing to accept that, though, she said with an eye roll. You, of all people, not getting married ?

You know I’m a sucker for weddings and all things “traditional family”, you chuckled. But I’d rather never get married and be with Marshall than the other way around. He means more to me than a dress I’d wear for a day.

You know I love Em, but I just don’t get it, she shrugged before munching on a cupcake you had baked earlier. He’s old, so I get the “not wanting kids” part. But you moved back here for him and you decided to give up on kids to be with him, so the least he could do is put a ring on it, you know ?

We just got back together, you giggled. And don’t get me wrong, if he asked for my hand, I would say yes. I mean, he is the love of my life. But he seems pretty adamant. And as long as I’m with him, I’m good, so really… Doesn’t matter.

Still… I never thought you would be ready to renounce marriage and children for any man.

You could absolutely see where Talia was coming from. You had spent countless hours talking about wedding stuff, since the two of you had met. You had actually bonded over your love of romantic movies and series and watched countless wedding-related TV shows. But you had made your choice and you understood that Marshall didn’t want that. And after all, he was right : you didn’t need to sign a piece of paper to be in a loving, committed relationship. As long as you got to experience life with him and make great memories, you were happy. And as for the fun you would have had planning your own wedding, you would live vicariously through Talia, who would be the most beautiful bride. The conversation shifted and you got back to your order of business : the wedding. You looked at venues while she took a fun break and looked at the Vera Wang website.

I’m going to be sick, Talia muttered after a while.

Come on, you chuckled. The bridal collections can’t be that bad…

No, I’m really feeling sick, she said before running to the bathroom.

You heard her puke profusely and looked at the plate of cupcakes. She had eaten about half a dozen. You had eaten a few yourself, though not nearly as much, and you were feeling fine, so you doubted that your baking was actually to blame. When she came back from the bathroom, she looked rather ill and tired.

Do you want some tea ? You offered.

Yes, please, she said in a croaky voice.

Lay on the couch, I’ll make it. Do you think you caught a stomach bug or something ?

I don’t know, she said in a small voice. Maybe it’s my period ? I’ve been waiting for it to actually come for a while.

Wait… You’re late ? You asked with a raised eyebrow.

You stared at her in disbelief and started to put two and two together. In the past days, she had complained about being tired and bloated, but you didn’t think too much of it. However, now that you knew she was late, it made you think of your own symptoms, from when you were pregnant. That’s how it had started after all : feeling tired, hungry and bloated, with a bit of morning sickness to top it off.

I can’t be pregnant, Talia said with a terrified look on her face. My mother gave me enough shit about living with Jamal before being married, she will kill me if I have a baby out of wedlock.

Maybe it’s just a false alarm. You’re using protection, right ? You asked as you tried to reassure her.

Of course, she said. I mean, except once, but what would be the odds ?

When was that ? You asked with a raised eyebrow.

Hum… The night we got engaged ? She said nervously.

You opened big eyes. The night they got engaged was the night Jamal brought condoms to your room. And doing the math, it would make sense and explain Talia’s period being quite a bit late. On some level… You were the one who stopped taking the pill after your breakup and your best friend might as well be the one who ended up pregnant. You convinced her to take a pregnancy test and the two of you ended up driving to the nearest pharmacy, buying one from every brand. When you got back home, Talia was shaking with nerves.

You’ll be fine, you said as you gave her a hug. You guys have been together for ages and you guys have talked about having kids before. You know he will be supportive.

I know but… Right before the wedding ?! She asked nervously. That was not the plan, Y/N. I wanted to look good in my dress, I wanted to show off my figure in a bikini on a Hawaiian beach for my honeymoon…

Only one way to find out, you said. Now, go and take the test !

In true bestie fashion, you sat on the tub while Talia was peeing on the stick. She handed it to you during the mandatory three minute waiting period. You had been there before and you knew damn well how she might be feeling. You held her hand and started to feel overcome with nerves, as well as many other emotions. You were probably a bad friend for this, and you would never confess to feeling this way, but deep down, you were feeling envious. You were content with your life, but some shameful part of you felt like you would have been in her place, if you hadn’t broken up with Simon. You would most likely be engaged, maybe with a rainbow baby on the way. In a way, you were envious. Of course, being with Marshall was everything you wanted and you loved him more than hypothetical plans of having kids or getting married, and Talia was more than deserving of these things, but it was stronger than you. When the alarm on your phone rang, both you and Talia took a deep breath.

I can’t look at it, she said.

You sort of have to, you pointed out. You have to know, right ?

You look at it and tell me.

You nervously took the stick and looked at it. Two lines. Positive.

You’re… pregnant, you said in a blank voice.

She gasped and looked at it herself. She freaked out and refused to believe it, trying to convince the both of you that it might be a false positive and she ended up guzzling almost a gallon of water and taking another test. Then another one. And another one. Of course, all of them had the same result : your best friend was definitely pregnant.

I’m pregnant, she said in disbelief. I’m really pregnant.

How are you feeling ? You asked.

I… I can’t believe it, she simply said. I am pregnant.

She stared at the numerous tests on the sink and put a hand on her belly. She stared at you as tears welled up in her eyes.

I’m pregnant, she repeated.

Look, if you don’t feel ready, you can absolutely…, you began.

No, she said. I think… I’m happy. I’m having a baby with the love of my life. I’m so happy.

She took you in her arms and held you tightly as she sobbed with happiness. You were emotional - for a lot of different reasons - and you felt a tear roll on your cheek. Talia was the kindest soul you had ever met and you had absolutely no doubt that she would be an amazing mother. She was already so good at taking care of people.

You’re going to be a splendid mom, you said softly. That baby is going to be so lucky.

You’re going to be the best aunt, she said emotionally.

And Jamal is going to be the greatest Dad on earth !

Oh my God, I have to tell Jamal ! She said. And my mom ? Do I call my mom ? And the wedding ?! What do I do ?!?!

You could see her go through so many emotions at once. You tried your best to reassure her and walked her through what she needed to do. First, you told her to go home and break the news to Jamal before telling anyone else. Then, she would have to make some medical appointments to ensure everything was alright with her pregnancy. As for the wedding, you assured her that, whether they wanted to elope or wait until after the baby was born, you would do your best to make sure her dreams came true and that she would have the most beautiful wedding. Whatever she needed, you would be there for her. She hugged you tight before leaving your place, making you promise that you would not tell a soul, not even Marshall.

MARSHALL’S POV

Marshall sighed in relief as he drove past the gate of his property. The past few days at the studio had been pretty rough : nothing seemed to be going right and it was starting to get on his nerves. The week had started with an artist postponing a recording and writing session they were supposed to have together, as well as a sample clearing issue. However, there was a bigger problem : whenever he wanted to write, he couldn’t bring himself to. Whenever he jotted down some ideas or words on a page, everything felt insanely corny or simply wrong. He knew that was to be expected, though : whenever his personal life was peaceful, that’s when he found it harder to write and, right now, things happened to be going great at home. Every morning, he woke up with the biggest smile on his face, happy to be with the woman he loved. She was truly amazing and he loved living with her. She was easy to get along with and she took care of him by cooking, baking and providing him with comfort whenever he needed. There was literally nothing for him to complain about and, deep down, maybe it was what was lacking. When they were broken up, he was hurting and felt like shit but at least, it was a familiar feeling. As hard as it had been, he had learned to thrive on sadness, hurt, anger and resentment. Happiness, on the other hand, felt foreign to him, especially when it was this peaceful and domestic. There was always this irrational part of him that felt like it was too good to be true and was in panic mode. When he was with Kim, this kind of calm, peace and happiness only meant a storm was coming and that he was about to be brought to his knees. Same when he was a teenager living with his mother : when things were going great, it always meant drama was coming their way. So, obviously, he had developed trust issues and always felt odd when things were going good. Of course, he loved being with Y/N and he would not have it any other way. But at the same time, he couldn’t shake the feeling of anxiety.

When he got home, he found Y/N reading yet another bridal magazine on the couch while a documentary was playing on the living room TV. He immediately joined her and pulled her in for a hug. Her presence was just what he needed. However, she seemed a bit more distracted than usual.

How was wedding planning today ? He asked as he settled and pulled her legs over his knees.

Eventful, she replied.

Really ? What happened ? Did you argue about the color of the bridesmaids dresses ? He chuckled.

No, no, she said. I mean, whatever, it’s not really interesting.

Are you alright ? He asked.

Yeah… How was your day ?

She seemed a little nervous and preoccupied, but he figured that Talia was probably to blame. Jamal’s fiancée was amazing, but she did keep Y/N busy with wedding planning and he knew that she was definitely the type to turn into a bridezilla. He told his girlfriend about his day and a meeting he had about upcoming performance dates. He was set to be a headliner for Lollapalooza, not only in the US but also in Europe and South America. He tried to focus on the positive and keep his writing struggles to himself.

How would you feel about coming with me for Lollapalooza ? He asked.

I don’t know, she shrugged.

Come on, he said with a smile. It could be fun. I don’t want to be away from you for too long. And you could also enjoy the festival, see concerts, and we could travel a bit between the performance dates and make it romantic. What do you think ?

That could be fun, she agreed. I don’t know if I’ll be free, though.

I think Talia can do without you for a little while, he chuckled.

No, I meant… From work, she corrected. In case I find something, you know ? But maybe Talia will need me too. I don’t know.

We’ll see, he said with a smile. Are you sure you’re ok ? You seem… Gloomy ?

I’m fine, she shrugged. Sorry. I guess I’m just under the weather.

You’re working too hard for this wedding, he said as he took the magazine from her hands and pulled her closer to him. Come here.

She hummed and buried her face in his neck. They cuddled in this position for a while and he started to relax. The warmth of her breath on his skin was doing a good job soothing him and making him forget about the frustrations of the day. From the day she walked into his life, she had been a peaceful presence for him and getting to come home to her in the evening was a blessing he was definitely grateful for. He enjoyed being in a bubble with her and being able to forget about the pressure of his work. They didn’t need to speak, her mere presence in the room and her touch were enough for him to be able to ease up.

I missed you today, he said as he kissed her temple.

I missed you too, she replied.

If you didn’t have that appointment tomorrow, I’d take you to work with me, he continued. I could use your hugs throughout the day.

What appointment ? She asked, seemingly confused.

Your OB/GYN appointment for your contraception. Isn’t that tomorrow ?

Oh, right, she said sheepishly. I forgot about that.

Are you ok, babe ? He asked with his eyebrows furrowed. I mean… If you don’t want to take the pill, it’s fine, we can stick to condoms.

No, no, it’s not that, she replied.

What’s wrong, then ?

Nothing, she said. Sorry. Mind if I go lie down before preparing dinner ? I don’t feel too well.

No, of course not, he said softly. Do you want me to come with you ?

Don’t worry, she said. You can stay here.

She got up and kissed his cheek before heading to their bedroom. Something definitely seemed off. Ever since they got back from Europe, she had been in a rather good mood, even considering the situation with her Dad. Now, she almost seemed depressed and he had no idea why. He decided to let her rest, figuring that she was probably just tired or that her period might be on the way. A couple of hours later, he went to see her and ask if she was hungry. She immediately offered to cook something for him, even though she didn’t plan on eating, but he told her not to bother. Y/N was laying in bed, wearing one of his tee-shirts, doom scrolling on her phone, the preoccupied look still on her face. He kissed her and went to the kitchen for a quick sandwich and a can of diet coke. When he was done, he threw his can in the trash and saw three sticks that looked all too familiar : pregnancy tests. Ever since he got back with Y/N, they’d had protected sex and, on one occasion when the condom broke, she had gotten emergency contraception. There was no way she could be pregnant. So why the hell had she taken these tests ? In a matter of seconds, his heart had started pounding in his chest. He nervously grabbed one of the tests, hoping it was negative. But there were clearly two lines. Positive. So were the two other ones. He felt terrified and dizzy. That had to be a nightmare. He could not have a baby. Not at fifty-two. Not when he had sworn that he would not have any more children. If anything, he was the last person on earth that should have kids. He loved his daughters, obviously, and even though raising them was his biggest accomplishment, it was also the hardest thing he had ever had to do. Seeing the two lines on the pregnancy tests gave him flashbacks of all the sleepless nights he’d had, tossing and turning, doubting himself and being terrified to mess things up. There was no way he would be able to do it all over again. Now that his daughters were grown-up and out of the house, he wanted to take it easy, enjoy life with Y/N and be able to do whatever he wanted. The last thing he expected was to change diapers, get up in the middle of the night and just struggle all over again. He took his face in his hands. He could not do this, and especially not with Y/N. She had not even been sober for two years. He had been there with Kim and he knew what it was like to see the mother of his children relapse and struggle with sobriety. No kid ever deserved this and he was simply not strong enough to raise a kid with another addict. Not again. He tried to pace himself but he couldn’t. He had to talk to her. He did not understand. Why hadn’t she told him she was late ? When did she take the test ? Why didn’t she tell him she was pregnant ? He had so many questions. He grabbed the sticks and walked to the bedroom to confront her.

Please tell me it’s a prank, he said as he walked in. Please tell me it’s not true. Please tell me they’re fake.

Fake what ? What prank ? She asked as she looked up. There’s no prank.

So it’s real ?! He blurted out. How long did you think you could hide this from me ?!

Hide what from you ? She asked as her eyebrows knitted.

THIS ! He yelled as he threw the pregnancy tests on the bed.

He was livid. His anxiety had simply turned to anger. The idea that she could have the audacity to pretend not to know what he was talking about was driving him crazy. Had she even taken the plan B pill ? He couldn’t think straight anymore. He felt betrayed and trapped. He could see her face change as she saw the pregnancy tests. Her face started to crumble and tears started to roll on her cheeks. But if she thought he would fall for it, she was wrong. No amount of crying would work and she was not getting away with it.

Don’t even try that shit with me, Y/N, he said coldly. You don’t get to pretend you have no idea when I’m talking about when I just found these fucking pregnancy tests. And you don’t get to cry when you’re the one who tried to hide that shit for me. What were you fucking thinking ?! Were you waiting for the legal delay for an abortion to be over ? For an ultrasound to soften me up ?!

W-What ? She asked. No, Marshall, it’s not…

What is it, huh ?! Fuck, we talked about this, we fucking broke up over this, so don’t tell me you didn’t fucking know how I feel about having kids, he continued. I’m not having another kid. Especially not with you. When you get to the doctor tomorrow, you better ask him to point you to the nearest abortion clinic !

She stared at him in shock. Her mouth was slightly open, she was still crying but she looked in disbelief. What was she thinking ? That he would jump up at the news ? He shook his head and headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

It’s Talia, she said. She…

Of course it’s Talia, he scoffed. Of course your stupid friend put you up to this. Do you know the number of times she told me to suck it up and agree to marriage, babies and shit and get you back ? I gotta hand it to her, she’s fucking persistent. Though I must admit I didn’t think she would put you up to this.

At this point, he wasn’t even thinking about what he was saying, just spitting his words in a spiteful way. As seconds went by, he was getting more and more worked up. He didn’t care about this pregnancy. He did not want to. He simply refused this possibility. There was no way he was having another baby. He loved Y/N but there was no way he would have a kid with her.

You’re not the first person to try this with me, you know ? He spat. I should have known better. But you’re the last person I would have expected to try and fuck me ovI-

I’M NOT PREGNANT ! Y/N finally yelled before throwing the tests back in his face.

You’re not ?! He asked in disbelief. Whose fucking tests are they then ?!

TALIA’S ! TALIA IS PREGNANT, YOU ASSHOLE ! NOT ME !

He felt a sudden wave of relief wash over him. He didn’t realize he needed to breathe that much, but it felt like he had a whole bottle of oxygen poured into his lungs. He felt at least thirty pounds lighter. Y/N, on the other hand, looked absolutely livid. And why wouldn’t she ? He realized he had basically insulted her, blinded by anger. As his mind got a little clearer, he recognized he might have gone a little overboard.

Thank God, he sighed. Babe, I…

Cut it, she said as she got up from bed and started to leave the room.

Wait, he pleaded as he grabbed her arm.

She jerked her arm and groaned before going to the corridor. He followed her, trying to apologize and get her to talk to him.

Y/N, I’m sorry, he said sheepishly.

Please, she scoffed. You’re not sorry.

I am, he assured her. Nerves got the best of me. I’m really sorry.

Well, at least I got to know what you really think of me, she said.

Where are you going ? He asked as she went down the stairs.

On the couch. I don’t know about you, but I usually don’t sleep in the same room as people who think I am capable of betraying them, she spat.

I didn’t say that, he defended himself knowing full well he had, indeed, said that.

You did, Marshall, she said coldly. You literally said I tried to fuck you over. And not only do you think I am a terrible person, you also insulted my best friend.

You’re not sleeping in the living room, it’s stupid, he said.

Well I would have appreciated waiting until tomorrow to gather my things and figure out my next move, she pointed out.

Your next… Y-You want to… leave ?!

She did not answer. She only shrugged. Her demeanor and gaze were cold. She was clearly pissed, understandably so. But… Leaving ? She couldn’t leave him. He couldn’t lose her. He had promised to himself he would do everything in his power not to. The idea of her leaving put him in a state of panic and brought him back to their breakup, to that fateful Saturday morning, over pancakes, about seven or eight months ago.

You can’t leave.

Why should I stay ?! She spat. Why should I stay with someone who thinks I am capable of betraying them ?

I didn’t mean that, he pleaded. I panicked, I’m sorry. Babe, I love you. I know you’d never… Fuck, I… Don’t leave me. Please.

Let’s be clear, she said as she looked at him dead in the eyes. The only reason I’m still standing here is because my best friend is telling her future husband that they’re having a child and there is no way in hell I’m ruining that moment for her. Otherwise, I’d be over there and back in my old room already.

Don’t do this, he said on the verge of tears. Please don’t leave me. I just… You seemed a little off, today, and you said it had been eventful, and when I saw the tests, I… I don’t know, I panicked.

The reason I was off is because my best friend just told me she was pregnant, you dumbass ! She yelled. I was off because I had to stand in my own bathroom and hold these fucking pregnancy tests and see that they were positive and they’re not mine !

She was starting to cry again. She mumbled something in French and went to the living room, as he followed in her step. She sat on the couch and brought her knees to her chin. He stood there, watching her.

Just leave, she said.

No, he replied. I want to talk about it. I want to make things right between us. I’m so sorry…

You want to talk ? Let’s talk then, she said sarcastically. You said you’re not having another kid, especially not with me. What was that ?

I just don’t want more kids, he said evasively. I’m in my fifties, I’ve had three daughters, I don’t want more.

I know that, she said as she rolled her eyes. And I respect that. But answer the damn question, Marshall. What did you mean about me ?!

It doesn’t matter, he pleaded. It really doesn’t. You don’t want a kid, do you ?!

Believe me, the last thing on my wish list is to have a baby, especially with you, she replied.

Then it doesn’t matter, he simply said. I was out of line, I shouldn’t have accused you and I’m sorry. Let’s go to bed, I’ll make it up to you.

Just say it, she said firmly. If you don’t, I swear to God, I’m packing a suitcase, calling a cab and booking a hotel room.

I meant addicts like us don’t get to make that kind of mistakes, Y/N, he sighed. Addicts are shitty parents. I should know.

Wow, she simply scoffed.

She was staring at him with a look of both pain and disdain. He had obviously struck a chord. She closed her eyes and sighed.

Why do you even bother with me ? She questioned. Why did you take me back ?

What do you mean ? He asked nervously. I love you, I want to be with you.

Why would you want to be with someone who you obviously think is not good enough ?! That’s just stupid, she pointed out. Why bother ?

What ?! No, Y/N, I don’t… Of course you’re good enough.

You know, I’m fine with your choices, she said with a hint of sadness. I respect that you’re done with marriage, and that you’re done with having kids. But you thinking I shouldn’t get to have children ? That fucking hurts.

I’m sorry…

STOP ! She screamed. You’re not sorry. I was ready to renounce having kids. Because I love you more than any unborn child. But do you even realize how much it hurts to know that if I had actually gotten accidentally pregnant, the person I sacrificed everything to be with would not support me ?!

He felt his heart strain a little. Seeing the pain on her face made him feel like the worst asshole in the world. To be fair, if she had actually been pregnant, he would have supported her. Sure, he thought abortion would be a better option, but he would never force her. If they had been in that situation - and thank God they weren’t - he would have stood by her side and supported her to the best of his abilities. He had simply been mean and stupid. Once again, anger had gotten the best of him.

I would have been there, he said. Of course I would have been. I love you, Y/N.

But you think I would be a shitty mom, she pointed out.

I’ve seen addiction ruin families, he explained. It certainly ruined mine, in more ways than one.

You still think of me as an addict, don’t you ? She asked on the verge of tears. No matter how long I can stay sober, you think I can’t be trusted ever again ?

I-I don’t know, he replied honestly. In my book, an addict is an addict. I still think of myself as an addict. It doesn’t mean people can’t improve or recover but… It’s tricky. But I love you. I love you more than life itself, baby.

She looked at him and simply shrugged. No matter what he said, he got the feeling that it would not matter much. He hated that angry side of himself. It wasn’t the first time that his anger got the best of him and ruined everything. He had been to therapy for his anger for years but, right when he thought he had made progress, it had to come and bite him in the ass once again.

Please talk to me, he begged. Please say something.

I have my appointment tomorrow morning, she simply said. I’ll pack my things when I get back. I will be out of here by the time you get back from work tomorrow.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #recovery fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers x reader #Eminem angst

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 2 months

Text

You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This.... (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

“Well, I never saw him.”

“He’s a big boy. He’ll find his way back. Or not.” She pointed at the frat bro, signaling the end of her interest in your questions. “What do you think about him?”

Without glancing back over, you deadpanned, “I think if you let him even touch you, you should get tested in the morning.”

She rolled her eyes at you before sitting up straighter as she bit her lip and coyly waved at the frat bro, clearly dismissing you.

“Come dance with me.”

You were taken aback as he thrust out his hand to help you up from the table.

“I–but we–I mean…”

Rhett smiled as he leaned in close to be heard over the music. “It’s just a dance, sweetheart. It ain’t anythin’ we don’t do every week.”

“Bu-but what about our drinks?”

“You two go,” Tara said, smiling from where she was sitting with Spencer’s arm draped across her shoulders. “Your drinks will still be here when you get back.”

“Well…maybe,” Spencer muttered just loud enough to be heard over the music as he eyed Rhett’s untouched beer.

But now Rhett had suddenly changed things up and you still had no idea why.

A half grin pulled at the corner of his mouth as he saw your surprised face and he asked, “You rushin’ off already? We just got out here.”

“In case I’m the only one who has noticed, I’m not really feeling this right now. And besides, we don’t do slow dances.”

Then, using the hand on the back of your neck to tilt your head, Rhett’s lips were suddenly on yours.

But had he felt it too?

With your face still just a few inches away from his, you chuckled softly. “You know, you really shouldn’t kiss me like this.”

“An’ why’s that?”

“You might give a girl the wrong impression. Make her start thinking lots of crazy things.”

All the air was sucked out of your lungs as his revelation drove into your chest like a fist. “Rhett…”

Leaning forward, you whispered, “If you do, then, baby, kiss me again.”

“Why didn’t you do that sooner?” you whispered.

“I’m glad you did because I felt the same way.”

Rhett grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss into his cheek. “Thank you for being the brave one.”

He thought for a moment before a sly grin spread across his face. Walking up to you, he plucked his cowboy hat off his head and placed it on top of yours, pulling the brim down low over your brow.

Since the night you met him, you had never seen Rhett let a single person wear his hat, let alone touch it. So for him to give it to you, even temporarily…

You squeezed his hand tightly as you gazed into his eyes, loving what you saw reflected there. “How do I look?”

Now it was your turn to feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. Glancing shyly at the floor, you asked, “I love it, but I’m not really sure how this answers my question about us?”

“What do you know about Cowboy Law?”

Taglist: @luckyladycreator2, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch

#sfw repost #fic #leahsgalentinesdayspecial #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott outer range #outer range #lewis pullman #fluff #love confessions #kissing #language tw #drinking tw #drunk behavior tw

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20doozers · 2 months

Text

★Pavlov★

TW: FWB, Manipulation (kinda), aftercare , sweet Tom, m!reader but could be read as gn!reader, use of the term “good boy”

You two were friends with benefits, not quite a relationship yet not quite just friends. You two hooked up sometimes when it was convenient. Today was one of those days, the two of you just having hooked up. Yet, something was different, and Tom didn’t like it.

“You okay?” You questioned, seeing Tom zoned out slightly as he sat there in his boxers, his head snapped towards you, blinking a few times before speaking up.

“Uhm. Yeah, just- something feels like it’s missing..” He murmured, glancing around before sighing and combing a hand through his dreads.

“You mean this?” You giggled, grabbing a lollipop from the small candy bowl on your dresser. His eyes immediately lit up. This was the routine, he’d come over, you’d hook up, you’d give him a lollipop and send him on his way, basically training him like a dog.

“Yeah!” He chirped happily, immediately putting it in his mouth when you handed it to him. He loved them, even though they were the crappy ones that came in bags of like 50, somehow you giving them to him made them 20x better.

You chuckled as you walked over, kissing the top of his head and giving his thigh a light pat.

“Good boy..” You hummed, and that was when it clicked. He was trained like a dog, you had literally trained him like some sort of dog. But he didn’t care, if loving you meant being paraded around on a leash then he’d do it.

“Golden retriever?” He giggled, cocking his head to the side slightly as he stared at your laptop screen. You two had decided to take a ‘What kind of dog are you?’ quiz and that was Tom’s answer.

“Sounds about right,” You snickered, drawing your arm around his bare waist, kissing his temple. You really did love him, even if he did have the brain of a pavlov’s dog.

AHH, 4th fic!! How we feeling abt the red layout? I’m not a huge fan but it fits the pictures. Anyway, thanks for all of the love, like 😨 absolutely insane. Love you guys!!💕 ALSO PLEASE DONT HATE ME FOR THE “Good boy” QUOTE, I KNOW WE HATE CRINGE SHIT LIKE THAT BUT IT FITS😭😭

Tags: @madzandmore @itsmealaiah @jkloserdazai @goreishgorinthgoreofshits

#friends to lovers #kaulitz #tokio hotel x male reader #tokio hotel x you #tom kaulitz x male reader #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz imagines #tom kaulitz #mlm #sub!tom kaulitz #gn!reader #m!reader #good boy

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rreskk · 8 months

Note

Hello mother of Trevor smut!

Do you write for Michael? And if so... I am in dire need of Micheal fucking reader in front of Trevor (reader is dating Trevor) and reader moans Michaels name so Uncle T gets mad.

Thank you!! -Anon

A good old angsty- drama AND smutty fanfic??? Yes!

Summary: His best-friend made you feel way better... And he hated it.

TW: -Smut -Drug use

Pairings: Fem!reader/ Michael Townley (slight /Trevor Philips as well)

Word count: 2226

Back in the North Yankton days, it wasn’t uncommon for the boys to share girls for good sex. You’ve seen it yourself when chilling in their motel rooms. While you and Trevor would share smokes and watch crappy movies through this static TV, Michael (or Brad) would have this prostitute in the background, fucking her pussy stupid. They’d take turns as well.

It was hard to get used to considering you’ve never seen people so open and shameless about their sex addictions. Even Trevor’s sex-drive was a complete shock to you after every night of sex, he’d wake up horny still. You were constantly bouncing on his dick whenever he wasn’t hiding from authorities or doing God knows what with Mikey and Brad.

However, this one night had changed everything.

Trevor had brought you along to this fairly cheap, shitty motel room. It was in the middle of nowhere. Literally.

“Bro, I’m telling you,” Brad was in a middle of an argument with Trevor, “I’m looking at this fucking map and there’s no booze store or strip-joint nearby.”

You were holding both yours and Trevor’s rucksacks as they continued to bicker heatedly. It was a normal thing.

Michael had sat down beside you with a tired expression. He ogled you for a moment before smiling. Your relationship with Mikey was sweet and close. He always looked out for you in such ways that made you feel… Important. Although you loved Trevor, he didn’t have that “boyfriend material” to him. Unlike Michael. He was pure “husband material” from the way he’d help clean all your clothes, protect you from Trevor’s occasional tantrums, drive you places, steal you period products (etc…)

“You’re a fuckin’ prick!” You heard your boyfriend cry as he’d storm over and snatch his bag from your arms. He hurried through it, pulling out a stash of cocaine and stomping to the small bathroom.

Sometimes… Just sometimes you looked at Michael and wished he was your boyfriend instead.

And sometimes… You think he knows that.

“Great, he’s in a bad mood – “ The bathroom door slammed shut, “… Again.” Mikey muttered.

“He’s a fucking asshole!” Brad attempted to correct Michael’s vocabulary.

“He’s not that bad.”

“Don’t lie to yourself, [y/n]. You deserve better.”

You sighed. Michael was right.

“I’d get myself a proper man, if I were you.” Remarked Brad who kept his concentration on the small map provided by the motel.

“He is nicer when we are alone.” You tried to comfort yourself.

“Really?”

“Yeah. We cuddle, watch movies together… And, uh… We do other things as well – “

“Have sex, yeah. We know,” Mikey exhaled, “Trevor tells us everything.”

“He does?” You felt your heart ache a little bit. Your nights alone together, you thought it was romantic and sentimental. Now you’re realising that he sees as nothing but a stress relief.

“Yes. Is date nights really just blowjobs and handjobs?” He’d ask.

Being honest was painful. When you nodded, it was basically telling Mikey and Brad that Trevor ain’t worth shit.

“I don’t suppose you know if he actually… Loves me, right?”

Michael was hesitant but kept his composure.

“He does love you. He just struggles with expressing it,” He’d tried to explain, “He does think of you a lot, trust me. He knows he ain’t the model boyfriend, but he can’t help it.”

“Right.”

“He’s a bit loco, [y/n].” Brad whistled.

“Listen, [y/n]… I know it’s hard being around him. I mean, I’ve known the dickhead for years and he’s always been pretty manic.” Michael was sitting close to you at this point.

“Well, yeah, he’s literally snorting coke right no – “

“Brad, shut up!” Mikey groaned, his hand hesitantly touching your thigh as he returned his attention to you.

“He’s emotionally unstable.” You’d whisper.

“Very…”

Silence overcame you both. Your eyes drifted to his hand-placements, finding yourself happy when he fondled your legs and sit as close as he could. When making eye-contact, you both smiled warmly.

“I still can’t believe that lucky bastard managed to charm you.” He’d whisper before leaning close, sight fixating on your lips.

You had the temptation for a while, now it was within your reach. The risk… He was only in the other room filling himself with every drug imaginable. You hoped if he was to see this, he’d be too high to see or function.

Bradley noticed the increased tension of you both and sucked in his lips. He decided – last minute – to turn his back and “pretend” he wasn’t aware of what was going on (a cowardice action to avoid confrontation since… He didn’t want to be the target of any fury).

Then he heard shifting on the other bed and cringed. Trevor’s totally going to kill Michael.

You were lying under him as he leaned closer before your lips touched. Your hands touched his shaved head, clasping his jacket, feeling his jaw when you both grew very indulged throughout the kiss.

Michael would continuously peer over his shoulder before you both began stripping clothes. He was anxious as well, you could tell. You didn’t want this to disturb his performance so you guided his lips against your neck and begged him to carry on. He was quick to react and made love to every inch of your exposed skin until you were a hopeless mess.

“You don’t want him to hear…” Mikey murmured in your ear, his hands removing your shirt and bra.

“Guys, c’mon… If you’re gonna fuck, I ain’t gonna stay around!” You heard Bradley murmur as he stumbled out of the motel room.

“Good riddance.” Michael’s voice rumbled against your neck, his tongue leaving trails of his saliva, reaching your collarbone and lower.

No matter how good it felt, each moan shook with guilt. He was only in the other room, you boyfriend, well… Unconfirmed boyfriend (thanks to his possessiveness), and now you were getting freaky with his best friend.

“Oh, fuck – “ You’d struggle when he kissed down your stomach.

Then a deep ruckus occurred in the bathroom, the sound of things being dropped and whatnot. It was followed by a deep, slurred voice (after the digestion of cocaine).

“Baaaabbeeee!” Trevor called from behind the closed door, “Where’s my fuckin’… Lighter? It ain’t in my fuckin’ bag!”

Mikey froze and gazed up at you. He mouthed something but you were too busy panicking.

“[y/n]? Answer me, baby! I want to have my weed!”

“I- I think… I think it’s, uh…”

“Argh, I found it! It was in my fuckin’ hand.” Shouted Trevor as Michael breathed out in relief and continued kissing your tummy pouch and hips.

His lips reached your pantie lines and your hand itched, grabbing the back of his head for support. He’d grunt in response before pulling down your panties and looking up, waiting for your signal.

“What if he…” Your words trailed off when you stared into his blue eyes. It instantly melts you.

“[y/n], it’ll be okay.”

And with that, you nodded and lifted up your hips for him to confiscate your panties. Michael smiled warmly. He threw it aside and hovered over your naked body. He skipped the usual foreplay you were used to with Trevor. It was weird not having him suck your boobs, leave huge marks on your neck, make out until your lips were swollen.

It was refreshing… Yet when he pulled your legs up to line himself with your wet cunt, it was just hard to miss that extra loving.

“Ah, yes!” Your thoughts about Trevor were washed away when Michael pushed into your pussy. He caressed your thighs when thrusting in and out, holding your legs over his shoulders.

“There we go…” His words were comforting and soft, the opposite of him.

“Oh, God… It’s so good, Mikey! – “

You both were unaware of the bathroom door opening. Facing the bed, Trevor’s high-state quickly crashed down. He held the blunt in his mouth and stared at Michael, who was making you moan louder than he’s ever heard.

The betrayal, jealousy. He was ENRAGED.

“Fuck, fuck!” Your whimpers combined with Mikey’s grunts sounded like nails on a chalkboard to Trevor.

The shock he felt made it hard to speak. He just stood there, weak. He let the blunt drop from his mouth as he watched his best friend fuck his girl. Trevor ogled the way your body shook when being fucked. He watched you stare up at Michael with nothing but pure lust and admiration. The jealousy quickened after your moans only increased in pitch.

“Mikey!”

Deciding to make his awareness known, Trevor stepped closer to the bed and make eye-contact with you. You gasped and held your breasts, as if that helped the situation.

“Uh, yeah… Oh, fuck – what? Huh?” Michael noticed your shocked expression before he peered over his shoulder and saw the murderous glare from his best buddy, “Shit, Trevor, bro! – “

“The fuckin’ fuck! Are you fuckin’ my girl, Mikey? What… [y/n]? What the fuck is this!” He’d outrageously shout, eyes burning with Hell.

“Trevor,” You breathed as Mikey continued to thrust despite being caught, “Please, Trevo – Ah! Michael! Yes!” Then he found your G-spot, ruining your chance of an explanation by pathetically moaning his best friends name.

“Sorry, Trevor.” He’d pant through the cycle of hitting your G-spot until you were both on the edge of a good orgasm.

Even though he was completely furious and psychotic, whenever Trevor watched you moan, it was arousing. He held his tongue. He developed a boner, raging like his anger. He wanted to yell, he wanted to punch Mikey, but most of all, he wanted in. He tried to ignore this fantasy by screaming insults at you both.

“YOU ARE BOTH JUDAS!”

Yet it toned down after he couldn’t contain himself. Michael, using his thumb, rubbed your clit as he thrusted deeper and deeper into your pussy. He worked hard to see you so beautifully shaken.

“Mikey! Ah! Yes!” You’d moan unconsciously.

Trevor leaned against the wall, pulling out his erection and rubbing it raw. His glare remained fixated on you. He jacked off to you being fucked stupid dumb. He pleasured himself dry, wishing he was in Michael’s place. The jealousy. He was in anguish knowing that you were receiving the best sex of your life.

“I fuckin’ hate you both.” Trevor growled from the wall, his hand beating his cock until it was bruised and swollen.

“I’M GONNA CUM, MIKEY!”

“I fuckin’… hate you…” Your boyfriends voice turned into harsh whispers as he was intensely motivated on jacking off.

“[y/n]… [y/n]…” Michael breathed and jerked his hips into your, crying out your name. His penis shivered and soon enough, you gasped as you climaxed, cum caking his dick that was begging for disclosure.

“AH! YES!”

He fucked you through the orgasm before pulling out and touching his tip, encouraging his semen to squirt and paint your tummy. He squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled. The climax, for Michael, looked much needed since he stumbled onto his knees and placed a hand on your breast, struggling to breathe.

“Mmm.” Trevor huffed when witnessing the hot-mess. He clawed his cock, even though it was burning with brutality. He whispered your name and when he made eye-contact with your guilty face, his mood grew more hostile and his masturbation got increasingly heavy.

Michael quickly stood up and tucked away his length, deciding that he had tortured his buddy enough. He gave you knowing glance, a signal to maybe… Get dressed and leave the room to give him some space.

“I thought we were done with sharing her. She’s my girl, now.” Trevor grunted at Mikey, his hand suffocating his cock.

“She needed some real love.”

“Fuck you, Mikey. Fuck you. FUCK YOU!”

“Sharing is caring…” Was the last thing he could say before a lamp was thrown his way.

You took that sign and dressed yourself, following Michael’s lead out towards the door before he called your name.

“[y/n]… Don’t fuckin’ leave. We ain’t finished here.”

“Trevor, I’m sorry, I really am – “

“Save it. Just stay here. I ain’t gonna let that cunt touch your pussy again, you hear me?” He hissed.

“I am sorry though.”

“Oh, yeah. You looked it.”

“Trevor – “

“I don’t do forgiveness. You can’t even earn that shit from me. But I’ll get my way.” Words barely made it out clear as he was close to his orgasm as well, masturbating with pure stamina due to the high drugs in his system.

You sighed, shame making you feel sick.

“C’mere…” He’d order.

You hesitantly walked over before he came all into his hands, moaning your name in the process. He made you watch as his dick squirted semen against his shaky palms.

“Yeess…” His groans were low-key, almost sounding angry itself.

Then he wiped all that cum onto your face with a sick grin. He rubbed every inch until you were covered.

“There we go… I feel a tiny bit better…”

It was so warm and sticky. You held back the urge to shiver considering it was overstimulating. Trevor then caressed your bottom lip before he walked past you, his shoulder brushing against yours. He walked out of the motel room in silence and left you to think about what you have done, and what is about to happen next.

154 notes · View notes

vivwritescrappythings · 3 months

Text

And They Were Roommates

modern!Hobie Brown x Reader

My first ever fanfiction posted online.

TW: afab!reader, she/her pronouns, drinking, bad writing?, very OOC Hobie, didn’t write the accent or slang please don’t come for me.

Word Count: 12.9k

masterlist

——

The apartment is cold when you wake up, the crappy heater barely able to keep up with the frigid air outside. Getting out of bed takes some coaxing on your part, the quilt warm around your limbs. But you are determined to have a good day.

You emerge from your bed with tangled hair, clad in panties and a shirt you had stolen from your roommate. It was soft and a little faded from its times through the spin cycle, and it was all the better for it.

It’s already 11 in the morning by the time you start making coffee. The smell of the grounds revive you as you measure the portion out, carefully leveling and scooping like it was second nature. You can hear the floorboards creaking, the building settling.

“Cold?” Hobie asks from behind you, though you’re not sure when he snuck up on you during the process of waking up. He moves his arm around your shoulders and gently pulls you to lean on his chest. As far as roommates went, you existed in an odd limbo between roommates, friends, and lovers.

“A bit,” you say, your voice still thick with sleep. You tuck your nose against his arm. His skin is so warm it almost feels like it burns you as you set the coffee to brew.

“You’re lucky I’m so warm,” he murmurs, pressing his mouth to the crown of your head. It sounds like he wants to say something else. That’s the thing with Hobie, he’s always been great at keeping his secrets.

You can feel him smile against your hair, the curve of his lips something between sweet and mischievous. “Or maybe I’m lucky to have you here,” Hobie says, his accent deep and lilting over each word.

You roll your eyes at his affections, your mind snapping back to being kept up late into the night by his recent escapade. “Did that girl you brought home last night already leave?” you ask bluntly, watching the coffee drip into the pot. The fact that he brought a girl home yesterday makes you have a bitter taste on your tongue. But, honestly, you have no right to be upset with him over it.

“Yeah,” Hobie says after a moment’s hesitation, shrugging. The nonchalance he is trying to brush it off with seems practiced. “She was nice…” he trails off, seemingly leaving things out. “Why?”

“Just asking,” you say, still watching the drip drip drip of the coffee maker, “or you wouldn’t be out here sucking up all my warmth.” A last ditch effort to try and lighten the mood to save the morning.

He scoffs and tries to sound indignant, “Like I’d want to suck up your warmth.” But he’s smiling and still keeping your shoulders trapped against his chest.

“Mhm, whatever you say,” you murmur, idly tidying the kitchen counter in front of you as you wait for enough coffee to brew. Hobie shifts, pressing his own cold nose to the back of your neck.

The warmth of your body against his and the feeling of Hobie’s lips and nose on the back of your neck sends a chill up your spine. Even if neither of you admit it, you both know that you mean more to one another than just roommates or even friends. It’s in the way he holds you, always with a sense of gentle ownership and care. When Hobie is around, he wants to keep you safe and warm, and you love to let him.

You almost melt into Hobie’s touch, but the memory of running into that girl from whatever concert he went to comes back. She was in the bathroom you shared, using your makeup wipes and expensive lotion. You manage not to stiffen in his embrace, but you start to shift to execute your morning activities as though Hobie isn’t hanging off of you like a human sized backpack.

As you look for your coffee mug in the pile of clean dishes, Hobie’s free hand moves to gently tuck some of your hair behind your ear and stroke your back. It’s a gesture of comfort and affection, so natural that sometimes you wonder if Hobie even considers what he’s doing. You feel the tension in your muscles ease and relax despite your best efforts. You can’t stay angry with him, he’s allowed to flirt, allowed to sleep with whoever he wants. You aren’t in a relationship. You should want him to find someone, to be happy, but the idea of it makes your heart ache.

You huff out a breath through your nose, frustrated by your own train of thought. You look at the clock on the stove, it’s already approaching noon. Some days being Hobie’s roommate was harder than others, and today is already shaping up to be one of those days that hurts.

Hobie kisses the back of your neck softly and leans even closer to you, adjusting so his chin is on your shoulder and his cheek is against your hair. The feeling of his skin against the curve of your shoulder is like a warm and soothing balm—but it also makes your stomach twist with disappointment.

Guilt washes over you even though it has no reason to. You want to turn around and look at him, you want to feel his even gaze burn into you. You want to tell him everything you desire—everything you need. But your voice is stuck in your throat.

Not to mention, he doesn’t even know you want it. The wall between your rooms is thin, you’ve heard countless “I don’t want anything serious”, “just was messing around”, “no labels” conversations that Hobie has had with the women and men he brings to his bed. Sometimes you want to go talk to them on their way out to commiserate in the heartbreak.

Your heart lurches as Hobie’s words run through your head. All the time you’ve lived together, how many times has he said that speech to someone? You want to deny it, to tell yourself that what he tells them is different than how he feels about you and what you’ve done together. But you heard it with your own ears.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push away the feeling that he means it. He means it every time.

“What are your plans for today?” you ask, realizing that you and Hobie have just been in silence for the past five minutes.

Hobie looks up at you, you can see a slight weariness in his eyes at your question. It’s moments like this that you think this is it. Time to ask or just drop it and move on. His eyes fix on yours and you can tell he’s searching for something to say.

“Nothing really,” he says, shrugging. “I was probably just gonna stay in. Read.”

You extract yourself from Hobie’s arms, moving to the dishes you had left in the kitchen sink last night. You start to run the water, waiting for it to warm as it flows over your fingers. “Are you finally gonna read the book I loaned to you a few months ago?” you ask, he moves to stand beside you.

Hobie’s eyes harden with slight annoyance, but he takes a moment to respond. “Not yet,” he murmurs. His voice is cautious and even lower than usual. He doesn’t like conflict, nor does he like the feeling of being cornered—especially not by you.

“What are you up to later?” he asks, giving up on that path of conversation. It was a safe move, a way to distance himself and avoid any possibility of a serious discussion. He’s good at this sort of thing. Hobie has always been difficult to catch.

“Do you remember what day it is?” you ask, any hope that Hobie actually knows what day it is dissipating quickly. Your hands are soapy as you vigorously clean the bowl in the sink. You have cleaned it twice already, but you need something to do with your hands.

Hobie sighs at your question, making you deflate even further. “Yeah, I’m not an idiot,” he snaps. It takes him everything to keep his tone somewhat even and measured. There seems to be something in his words, some hint of frustration that you suspect has to do with you.

“But—look, I’m sorry, but I told you I wasn’t looking for…”

“It’s my birthday, Hobie,” you snap, “not some stupid fucking anniversary of us moving in together or something.” The anger comes out of you like a whip. You had to interrupt him, he knows that you would never bring that up, not again.

Your words cut through him like a red-hot knife. “I—“ he starts to say, his voice gentle once more. Hobie reaches out to you before catching himself. You can see the apology on his tongue and the regret in his eyes. It’s in there, barely peeking over the surface. There’s something he wants to tell you, you know there is, but he’s afraid he can’t make the choice.

“Yeah… figured you forgot,” you say, your voice small. “Well, my friends from school are throwing me a party tonight, at Club Wolf. You’re invited if you want to come, but I know it’s not your thing.”

“You know I’m not great with crowds,” Hobie says, his tone light and joking. You hear the desperation in it. He doesn’t want to go, but he doesn’t want to disappoint you. You bite your tongue, wanting to remind him that he is fine with crowds, just not nightclubs with dance music.

“But,” he says a second later, “I wouldn’t miss your birthday party for the world.” The lightness in his voice disappears as he offers a lopsided smile to you. Maybe a genuine smile. Maybe.

You glance at him over your shoulder, surprise coloring your face. You rinse the bowl you had made your own birthday cake in last night and set it on the rack to dry. “Well, just see how you’re feeling later. It starts at 9.” Hobie has made promises to show up before, you’re not going to hold your breath this time.

You turn to pull the cake out of the fridge and find the tubs of frosting you bought in the pantry. You set the cake on the kitchen table, pausing to wonder if baking and decorating your own birthday cake is sad. What does it matter anyways?

“I mean it,” he whispers softly. “I’ll be there, I promise.” He sounds sincere—or maybe that’s just what you want to hear. You feel yourself wanting to believe him. You know you shouldn’t, but deep down you hope you can.

His head dips to the side, his eyes scanning you warmly up and down in a familiar way. His gravity defying wicks move with him as he tilts. You always forget how beautiful Hobie is when he looks at you like that. You can’t blame him for anything right now.

“Okay.” You look at him briefly before turning back to the cake. Hobie is too beautiful to look at directly in the morning light, it felt almost like staring into the sun.

You dump globs of white frosting onto the cold sponge, spreading it smooth with a spatula. Hobie’s eyes study your measured movements. It takes you ten minutes to lopsidedly frost the cake, but you manage.

You move to the cabinet to search for the sprinkles you’d bought ages ago. Hobie moves behind you and watches your search, his gaze taking in both your back and profile in the reflection of the glass cabinet door. His focus remains on you for a moment before he breathes softly.

“I don’t want to go,” he mumbles, just barely loud enough for you to hear. He’s nervous. He’d be lying if he says he isn’t. The party means a lot to you and he doesn’t want to have to mess up the evening; or worse, ruin it completely,

“You don’t have to,” you say, your heart twisting in its disappointment. “I wasn’t expecting you to.”

“But… I want to for you,” Hobie says even quieter, you almost don’t understand him. He presses up against you again, arms wrapping around your middle. His body is warm and his breath is hot against your skin, making you shiver for a moment.

You feel a hesitation from him, like Hobie wants you to turn and face him and ask him for more. It’s like he’s waiting for you to say it, to validate and confirm things that he knows in his heart —and you do too.

But you can’t do it, you have put yourself out on that ledge before only to get struck down. It took you a long time to get back to this level of comfort with Hobie, dancing between friendship and something more. Unfortunately, you prefer being stuck in limbo than not having Hobie in your life at all.

You have to stretch on your tiptoes to reach the sprinkles on the top shelf. Hobie must have moved them while hunting for the stale candy bars that lived in the back of the cabinet.

Hobie chuckles and puts his hands on your waist, pushing gently until you put your heels back on the floor. You look back at him, seeing him smile the kind of smile that is sweet and soft and more genuine than anything you have seen in a long time.

“Here.” He hands the sprinkles to you. You have to stop yourself from melting into his arms.

You look away from his smile, your heart aching at the sight of it. “Thank you,” you murmur, clutching the plastic container tightly in your fist. The sprinkles are shiny spheres in your favorite colors: purple and pink. You have always been a sharp contrast to Hobie’s riot of blues and reds paired always with black.

“Anything for you,” he murmurs, his voice sweet and gentle. You can feel his gaze lingering on the sprinkles in your hand for a moment longer before he looks up at you again.

“I’ll see you tonight?” he asks, not bothering to hide his trepidation anymore. You can see his worry, the way his eyes keep straying to your neck, your hands, your face. Hobie seems afraid he’ll scare you away. You know he means more than just the party.

“Yeah, you’ll see me.” You offer him a half smile as you turn away from the press of his hand on your hip and to the frosted cake, perfectly white and crisp. You dump the sprinkles unceremoniously on top, tarnishing the pristine finish as you press them in to stick on the sides and top. The sprinkles spill over the edges of the plate, getting stuck in the nooks of the table settings.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he whispers, his eyes soft and searching when he approaches your side. That look is always enough to send your heart racing. You’re afraid you’ll do something wrong, something stupid that will push him away.

He places a hand on the table and leans in close, careful not to disturb the cake. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Hobie’s small, gentle smile breaks through again and, for a moment, the world stands still.

You’re scared to move, to send this house of cards crashing to the ground. That’s how Hobie and you always feel—like a balancing act. At times he is cloyingly sweet and stuck deep between your molars, but he can turn in a flash to something bitter and sour.

“I can’t eat this whole cake by myself,” you finally say after a moment’s hesitation. Hopefully it is a wise choice.

Hobie smiles even wider at your response. “No,” he says, “no you can’t.” He reaches out for the sprinkles, his hand almost touching yours before stopping. The electricity that builds between the two of you feels tangible for a split second. The touches that Hobie finds intimate are so minor compared to those that he doesn’t. Holding hands and kissing on the mouth are too much, but almost everything else is casual.

His eyes search you again, and you remember all the times you have had this exact moment with Hobie before. You wonder if you’ll get used to it and lose the feeling of intimacy altogether, or if it will always be this way.

“I’ll help you eat it,” he says, finally.

“Perfect, cake for breakfast is a birthday requirement, after all,” you say, turning your gaze away from the intensity. You place the mostly empty container of sprinkles on the table, letting out the breath that has been stuck in your chest.

You look on the counter for the Polaroid camera you like to keep around. You had won it in a raffle in college and used it ever since. “I need to grab my camera, I promised my mom I’d take a picture of it before I cut it,” you say as you pad out of the kitchen with your bare feet. It’s in your room on your desk, you grab it by the strap and return just as quietly as you left. You stand over the cake, careful to get only it in the shot, the cracked porcelain plate and sprinkles strewn across the table completing the imperfect memory.

“You still have that silly camera?” Hobie asks from behind you. His voice is light and his tone is teasing, but you can hear a hint of genuine interest lurking in there as well. You can feel his eyes scanning your body—just for a moment, but you can. That slight shift in his gaze and the way he lingers on your legs almost makes the camera shake in your hands.

“Yeah,” you say, waving the photo a bit so the ink sets. You quietly contemplate how you can take a picture of yourself with the cake without asking Hobie to do it, for some reason that feels too silly. Last year Hobie didn’t even wake up until 4pm, so you had all the time in the world to take self-timer photos over and over again without embarrassment.

“I like the way the pictures turn out,” you explain, flipping the photo on the table over to see the image of the pink and purple cake developing. “They feel like memories from when you were a kid or something.”

“You’re right,” Hobie whispers. You can sense the sincerity in his tone and even see it in his expression. It’s one of those rare moments where all of his walls drop and his emotions break through just beyond that rough exterior he hides himself in.

You look at the photo again, the sprinkles are haphazard and the plate is cracked but it looks cozy rather than imperfect. You can see Hobie’s shadow in it, streaking across the table and intersecting with yours. You pick up the pen that you had left on the table earlier and scribble the date on it along with the number ‘21!’ and a big smiley face.

Hobie’s shadow looms over you as you write. He’s closer than you expected him to be, and there’s something different about him. His warmth has been replaced by something deeper, more vulnerable. There’s a softness in his dark eyes—and a look of almost longing.

You cross your small, cluttered kitchen to set the Polaroid on the countertop. “You don’t need to be in this, but my mom likes to have pictures of me with the cake. She has a whole box of photos of me on my birthday morning.” You peek through the viewfinder to see that the cake is centered, a chair on either side.

You readjust the shirt you are wearing to cover a little bit more of your bare thighs as you set the timer, walking to the nearest chair with sure steps. Your kitchen table is a little crooked and small, the chairs mismatched. “You’ve got ten seconds to figure out what you want to do,” you murmur to Hobie as you try to fix your somewhat tangled hair and plaster a bright smile on your face.

He watches you on the other side of the table, drinking in your form as you prep for the photo. What he wants to do is easy: hold you. Hold you close and make sure you never leave him again. He’d be a fool not to try—and maybe that’s enough to shake him out of the looming fear that holds him back.

But what if you rejected him? His heart sinks just thinking about it. He’s not sure he could handle it, not in a moment like this.

He watches as the counter hits five seconds, not sure what to do.

“You don’t have to linger in the corner like a ghost you know,” you say through your teeth, still holding your smile as you stare into the lens of the camera. Your fingers twist in the soft fabric of the t-shirt in anticipation. You can’t help but wonder what he’s going to do.

Hobie’s eyes scan you again, taking in every detail. The way your hair falls against your collarbone, the way the shirt that belongs to him has started to slip from your shoulder. He leans against the table, resting one hand against the back of your chair.

You can feel his gaze on your neck, on your chin. His presence is warm against your skin as you hear him inhale and exhale. You want him to do something. You need him to.

One second left.

“Hobie?” You ask, your voice pinched as the one second warning beep goes off. He still rests half in and half out of the frame.

That soft word is enough. You feel the electricity between the two of you, that strange and beautiful tension that builds between two people when they are on the verge of something. Hobie’s fingers curl over the back of your chair, bringing himself closer. His eyes never leave your form—just the thought of you is enough to make him tremble.

He leans into you as he sits in the other chair, his breath hot on your cheek. Hobie places his hand on the opposite side of the cake, his shoulder close to yours. “Smile for me,” he mumbles, his voice barely loud enough for you to hear.

Your heart thumps and you can feel your false picture smile twist into something… different. The flash is blinding, the sound of the shutter solidifying the moment in your memories as the camera prints the photo. The apartment is quiet except for your breathing and the sound of the Polaroid printing the photo.

“Thank you, my mom loves getting pictures of me,” you say, your voice a little higher pitched than usual.

Hobie doesn’t say anything as he gets up to pull the photo free from the camera. His gaze scans you again, taking in everything in a moment. His eyes linger on the neckline of your shirt that’s slipped. He returns to where you sit at the table, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. His fingers brush against the top of your arm lightly as he smiles down at the photo. You look beautiful even with your tangled hair and the sprinkle-covered table settings.

“Did it turn out alright?” you ask him, not able to look at it yourself. You can’t acknowledge the permanent memento of whatever malformed relationship you have with Hobie. You stand, slipping out from under his hand as you grab two plates, forks, and a knife.

“Yeah,” Hobie says wistfully, and you can tell that he means it. It’s not the best photograph, but who cares—it’s a memory that he’ll hold onto and cherish for the rest of his life. He’d be a fool not to.

He can’t help himself and he wraps you in a hug, one arm around your waist and the other planted on the counter next to you. He places the photo down in front of you as he pulls you into his embrace.You fit together perfectly. He presses his cheek against your hair and inhales deeply, loving the way you smell.

You inspect the photo, leaning down slightly to see it better. You had worn his only colorful shirts to bed last night, the mustard yellow shape taking up half of the picture, the pink and purple cake between you, and Hobie swathed in dark blue and black. He was looking at you instead of the camera, and even in the photograph you could see the tenderness in his gaze. You were looking straight at the camera, what had originally been your photographic smile twisting into something genuine.

“Can I keep this?” he asks softly, his voice still raspy from sleep and his emotions. He still has a firm grip on you, his arm wrapped around you securely. He wants this moment to last and he’s not quite sure how to make it happen.

He looks down at you, his umber eyes studying every inch of your face. You can feel warmth radiating from him, and the way his body tenses—almost like he’s too nervous to breathe fully.

“Sure,” you say breathily, a little caught off guard. “I just need to grab a picture of it to send to my mom first.” Your heart is thundering in your chest, you’re trying not to think of a million scenarios about the deeper meaning behind him wanting to keep the photograph. You grab for your phone on the edge of the counter, taking a quick photo of the Polaroid before handing it to Hobie.

You can’t help but lean into him as he leans in close to you. He’s so gentle when he holds you, your head fits perfectly against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat is loud in your ears, steady and calming as he rocks you slightly back and forth in a hug. He smiles down at you, his eyes warm but his expression cautious. He’s not sure what to do next and it shows. He looks at the photo in his hands and back at you again.

“You hungry?” you ask, pushing the moment forward. You see his gaze drift down to the picture in his hand. “I can cut you a slice.” You look at him over your shoulder.

Hobie smiles again, but it’s a bit brighter this time. “I’m starving,” he says, his tone light and borderline teasing. He reaches around you, pressing his arms close to your body. You can feel his fingers against the shirt that you still wear, pressing up against your skin. It’s almost too much.

“Well you’ll have to free me if you want me to cut the cake,” you say with a soft laugh. You feel almost lightheaded from the attention. His hands are large, his fingers splayed against the yellow t-shirt and bunching it up slightly.

He laughs before pulling you closer, burying his face in your hair and breathing you in deeply. His fingers slip under the shirt and he presses himself against you again. You’ve never felt so close to someone—and you’ve never felt this vulnerable.

He’d be a fool to ruin the moment, and you’ve never seen a moment more perfect than this. No one ever told you love might feel like this: warm and dizzying, exciting and scary, and almost too good to be true, but here you are.

It still feels too good to be true, there is still the underlying anxiety that Hobie will change his mind and remember his no consistency no labels mentality.

Still, you giggle when you feel his large, calloused hands palm your bare waist and pull you impossibly closer. These are streets you’ve walked before, when Hobie lets himself into your bedroom on nights he comes home alone. You realize that Hobie is the sun, and you think you’ll forever be stuck in his gravitational pull.

That’s what scares you about Hobie. He’s always one breath away from running. He’s made you comfortable and close but not permanent. At the same time, he’s the most welcoming and kind person you’ve ever known and when he touches you—when he holds you close—you feel like you might just be home.

That’s what makes you keep coming back, too. You’ve never felt this comfortable or welcomed before and you’d kill for it to not be a dream.

“Are you just going to hold me against the kitchen counter all day?” you ask, your tone light. You manage to keep your secret inside, the fear that once this moment ends you won’t get another one looming in the back of your mind. You think back to the birthday picture, the messy cake on the table. The impending party your friends were throwing on the horizon.

Your mom told you the first time she met Hobie after you decided to be roommates that you would fall in love with this boy, and she was right.

Hobie’s smile falters slightly at your words. He’s not sure he’ll ever want this moment to end. Holding you and seeing your face—even if you’re not looking at him—is all he really wants to do.

“Maybe,” he says, his tone light as he pulls you closer and pushes your hips against the counter. His hands are still under my shirt, warm against your soft stomach. Maybe this moment is all he wants too.

But then, he takes a deep breath and smiles and the tension eases out of him a tiny bit.

“C’mon, you won’t deny sharing cake with the birthday girl, will you?” you say softly, leaning back into him to feel his strength.

“I wouldn’t deny you anything if I could help it,” he murmurs, almost under his breath. His fingers dig into you, holding you close in case he loses you forever. He presses his lips against your hair again and inhales deeply.

The world around you fades, every worry erased, replaced by the sensation of Hobie’s breath against your skin. Even if the moment ends, you’ll hold it close like the Polaroid he’ll soon keep in his wallet.

He moves first, releasing your waist slowly, letting the stolen shirt fall back down over your hips. You bracelet his wrist with your fingers, pulling him to the small kitchen table. You stand to cut the cake, plating you both thick slices. Your fingers are sticky with the excess frosting and sprinkles and crumbs. You take a measured risk and lick the knife clean.

“Do you want tea or coffee?” you ask, it wouldn’t be hard to put the kettle on.

“I’d love some tea,” Hobie says as he takes a seat at the table. He watches you with a soft smile as you cut the cake, your fingers sticky with frosting. The icing streaks your face from nose to cheek and he can’t help but smile. This is one of the many reasons he believes he’s falling in love with you.

“You’re so messy,” he chuckles. “Let me get a napkin.” His eyes scan over your form before he averts his gaze. You have no idea just how much your messiness makes him swoon.

“Did I get something on my face?” you ask, trying to brush it away and only succeeding on getting more frosting smeared onto your cheek. You watch Hobie’s lanky form retreat, smiling and shaking your head as you lick your fingers clean.

“Oh yeah,” he says, his tone amused and loving, “you’re just covered is all.”

“Here,” he says, a napkin in-hand, “let me get that.” He dabs the frosting gently away with the napkin, his fingers brushing against your skin. He catches your eyes for just a moment when he does, but he quickly averts his gaze.

“You must think I’m ridiculous,” you say with a giggle when you see just how much frosting he wipes off your face. There is a soft blush on your cheeks as you put the kettle on before pouring yourself a cup of coffee. The mug you use is lumpy, one of the only things that survived the kiln from the pottery class you took last summer.

You pour him a cup of tea, adding the right amounts of milk and sugar before handing it to him. “You’re not ridiculous at all,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He smiles again, reaching for his tea and gulping it down. You can tell you’re making him shy.

“You haven’t tried the cake yet,” you murmur as you sit down, a full slice sitting in front of Hobie still.

“Oh, you’re right,” he says, setting down his tea. “I actually forgot to try it.” He reaches for his fork and cuts himself a piece, taking a bite. You can tell he likes it by just how big his smile is.

“Oh my God,” he says, “why didn’t I try this earlier? It’s amazing.”

You smile, your turn to feel bashful as you sit across from him. You’d celebrated 21 birthdays with cake for breakfast, but this one is your favorite by far. “I’ll make you one when your birthday comes around. I can get black sprinkles or something,” you say, your voice holding a hint of vulnerability in it. Of the two of you, you were always doing things to make Hobie’s life easier, be it collecting his laundry or leaving him leftovers for lunch. You’re willing to add baking a birthday cake to the list.

“I hope you do,” he says, his voice soft and sweet. There’s a small light in his eyes, but he averts his gaze quickly. He’s clearly trying to play it cool, and he’s doing a piss poor job of it.

“I can’t wait for mine,” he says, taking another bite of cake. “If this is what your baking is like, I think I’m going to insist we have an early birthday for me.” He grins when he says it, even though you know he’s not joking.

You smile, taking a bite. The pink and purple sprinkles crunch as you chew. “Well, your half birthday is coming up,” you say, a little sheepish that you remember the information so readily. “Maybe I’ll make you one.”

Hobie’s expression softens, his free hand fidgeting with a cloth that is on the table. He takes another bite of his cake to hide how flustered he is.

“That would be lovely,” he says after a moment. You can see him trying to play it cool, but he can’t stop his eyes from following you. He wants to watch you as you move. He wants to study you. He wants you. He can feel it in his gut.

You take a drink of your bitter coffee to offset the sweetness of the cake. His gaze is almost overwhelming. Even when his eyes trail away, you can feel his presence like a weight on your shoulders that you can never ignore. A blush crawls up over your face and you find yourself looking away, hoping the heat in your face will die down a little bit.

Then you decide against that, your gaze returning directly to meet his and you never want to look away again. His eyes almost melt you. He makes you forget to breathe, but you can deal with breathlessness for a little while.

You’re forced into shyness by the memory of the last time you felt this way, Hobie’s soft, even voice rejecting you filling your ears. You close your parted lips, redirecting your focus to the photo of just the cake with your loopy, girly handwriting beneath it that still sat on the table.

His eyes follow your gaze as you focus on something else and he can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. He doesn’t like losing your attention. He leans back in his seat, propping his feet up on the other chair and taking a slow sip of his tea.

You catch his gaze again, and again he averts it. He knows that if he looks at you, it’ll be all over. He’d be pulling you around and pressing his lips down hard as he shows you just how true his feelings are.

You finish your breakfast, and you find the cake cover after digging in one of the cabinets under the counter. You cover it and place it in the fridge, having to squeeze some of Hobie’s beer out of the way to make space. Hobie remains seated, watching you move around the kitchen with his measured gaze.

Your phone ringtone blasts through the silence of the morning, which now was drifting into the afternoon. You jump, rushing for your phone. Your mother’s contact flashes on the screen.

“It’s my mom, she probably just wants to wish me a happy birthday,” you say, looking at Hobie as though you’re asking permission to take the call. You don’t want to ruin the intimacy you had been sharing, fearful you’ll never get it back.

“Yeah,” Hobie says, his voice soft and gentle. “You can take the call.” He knows how important family is to you and he’d hate to keep you from a call with your mother.

He leans back in the chair and takes a final sip of his tea before he sets the mug down. You see his eyes linger on yours for a beat or two before he looks away. He wants you to be happy—he always does. Even if it means he might have to sit in the background.

“Thank you, for the lovely morning,” you murmur, giving him one last look before you hit the ‘answer’ button and go to your room. Your mom is already screaming about the picture Hobie and you had taken. Her shrieks of glee make you giggle as you shut the bedroom door behind you, not without sparing one last look at Hobie as he sat at the kitchen table.

Hobie watches you leave and he fights against everything his body is telling him to do. He’s dying to follow you, to wrap his arms around you and kiss you like he wants to. He’s dying for you to look at him one more time. But he doesn’t.

He fights against his demons instead. He’s always had trouble with commitment and giving himself to someone makes him nervous. It scares him. It worries him.

He doesn’t want to lose you. But he’s terrified of loving you.

The rest of the day progresses without event. You only run into Hobie once in the short trek from the kitchen to his room, mumbling something about how his friend Miles needed his advice. You were watching Twilight to kill the time, something Hobie would have never agreed to do even on your birthday.

The production of getting ready feels monotonous as you shower, do your hair, and apply your makeup. It feels like a fugue state as your favorite playlist fills the silence, you can’t help but wonder if Hobie will bother to show up or not.

By the time your friends come to retrieve you in the Uber, Hobie still hasn’t emerged from his room since your brief run in. You are wearing a dress that glitters when you move, paired with black platform heels and a small black handbag. You let your hair loose down your shoulders in meticulously done beach curls. No matter how much effort you’d put in, it felt like a waste of time when you looked at his closed bedroom door.

“I’m leaving for the club!” you call out to Hobie, waiting momentarily for a response you don’t receive before you shut the front door and rush to the Uber.

Hobie’s on his bed when he hears your voice, his expression darkening. The room’s curtains are shut and all he can hear is the sound of his own breathing. It’s hot in his room and he wishes for a fan. It’s quiet—too quiet.

He wants to follow you, but he can’t. The thought of another step towards commitment makes his head spin. He wants you but he can’t do this, not without being sure. That’s the problem though. He’s never sure of anything aside from the dizzying panic you make him feel.

The club is busy when you arrive, your friends from college having congregated for the event amongst other miscellaneous club goers. You are plied with congratulations and shots upon arrival, along with a silver sash that says ‘Birthday Girl’ in looping script. You nearly cry, the effort and love you feel overwhelming you a bit as your friends place the sash over your head and adjust it perfectly in place. It’s such a stark contrast from the morning, but still feels less satisfying.

The alcohol lowers your inhibitions and ignites your blood, you feel like you can dance for hours. The club is sweltering and the music is loud. You finally manage to find a lull to escape to the bathroom for a moment, promising your friends that you will make it okay on your own. You hide in a stall, taking a moment to catch your breath. You pull your phone out of your bag hopefully only for it to deflate when you see there’s still nothing from Hobie.

The alcohol lubricates your jumbled thoughts about Hobie as you look at your text thread. The last thing he’d sent you was a photo of the small bar crowd his band had played in front of a few days ago. You bite your glossed lip, teetering on the edge of a decision.

You open your camera app, angling your phone so you can see just enough cleavage down the front of your dress and the toilet is out of the frame. You take a selfie, suddenly realizing you look drunk but you don’t care. You are drunk and it’s your birthday. You consider that to be permission granted as you send it to Hobie, typing ‘miss u’ in all lowercase letters after it.

A notification pops up on Hobie’s phone as he’s lounging in bed, his headphones plugged into his cellphone while he listens to music. He’s not doing anything productive when the notification comes up, his finger tapping along to the rhythm of the song before he unlocks his phone.

A jolt of shock courses through his body, his breath catching in his throat as he sees your photo on his screen. His eyes go wide and he quickly replies, “I miss you too.” His breath catches in his throat and he bites his lower lip.

You squeal audibly when he texts back, thankfully the music and the other women in the bathroom cover the sound. “U do?” you reply, leaning against the wall of the bathroom stall. You look at the photo you had sent him again. God, you look so drunk.

“Of course,” Hobie replies quickly, his pulse quickening at the thought of you being drunk. He loves when you’re a little tipsy—your words get sweeter and your harsh edges get a little smoother.

“How’s the party? Missing you right back.” He looks at your photo with a little jolt of lust. You might look drunk in the picture, but you look hot. Your hair is mussed and your eyes are glassy and unfocused as you pout softly at the camera.

“Club’s not the same wirhout u.” You type, not even noticing the misspelling. You hit send, knowing you really only have a few more minutes before your friends come to find you. A birthday girl can’t leave her party for long.

He’s not expecting you to text back so quickly and as the notification chimes in his phone, he sits up in bed to look at it. He has to resist the urge to text you again in fear of being too clingy. In his eyes, he’s already a little too clingy.

He decides to wait for another notification. You might have just said the club is boring without him, but you at least sent this message. Your words and that picture of you will have to be enough for him tonight.

He stares at his phone for the next few minutes.

Your friends come to collect you, making you forget about the moment for a little. They call your name as they enter the bathroom, yelling something about how your song is being played and you are desperately needed on the dance floor.

Twenty minutes pass before you think about Hobie again. You were handed a shot of Jäegermeister—your favorite and Hobie’s worst nightmare. You decide to take a video as you take it. Normally, you would rather die than record yourself in public but liquid courage courses through your veins. The lights are pulsing around you, the sequins on your dress lighting up as you raise the shot glass to the selfie camera and knock the shot back.

You watch the video loop as you contemplate it. Your cheeks are flushed, makeup is a bit messy, and you shine with sweat. But, fuck it. You send it to Hobie anyways, typing a quick ‘cheers 💕’ to accompany it.

You can tell that Hobie’s not doing much of anything because he responds within half a minute of you sending your text, his fingers typing up quite a long message for Hobie.

“God, you’re so cute.” He stares at it for a bit, watching the video on loop before he texts back again. “Also, that dress is gorgeous on you. Can I see it up close?” It feels scandalous the way he texts so forwardly to you, you rarely communicated your desires to one another.

You blush when you read the text, the alcohol and Hobie’s implication making your head spin. “Tried to catch u before I left the apartmenr :('' you send back, again littered with errors. You think about how you called out to him as you left, not getting a response or a goodbye.

“Wish you did,” he replies. Hobie smiles and he takes another look at your photo. Your dress clings to you in just the right places and your makeup is smudged in the perfect way.

“I love your hair like that,” he texts before he takes a breath and adds, “and the way you look at me makes my breath stop. I want to kiss you so bad, but I can’t.”

You can’t hold your excitement at his text, getting the attention of those with you. Your friends notice, the girls looking over your shoulder at the thread. One confiscates your phone, typing before hitting send without showing you the message.

You look at your phone when she gives it back. “Club Wolf, come get her. We want to make sure she gets home safe,” your friend had sent. You roll your eyes, knowing that you were nowhere close to being wasted enough for Hobie to have to come save you.

Hobie doesn’t hesitate to respond to your friend’s text. “I’ll be right there.”

“Oh my god!” you screech when you get the text back, grabbing your friend’s shoulder with excitement. She takes your phone for the rest of the night, putting it in her bra. After a few moments you let it go, getting convinced to dance with them more as one of your favorite songs starts to blare through the speakers.

Once he’s up and dressed, he downs a few shots for courage before he takes off towards the club. When he gets there, he takes a moment to stand outside the building as he takes a deep breath; his heart’s in his throat, his palms are sweaty. He’s here for you. He knows that. But he’s also going to have to face the fact that he dropped everything to run to your aid.

“Let me buy you a drink?” a random man that had come along to meet some of your friends asks you. In your state you eagerly agree, assuming he is being kind to the guest of honor. You follow him to the bar, scanning the room to see if Hobie had showed up yet. You order another of your favorite drinks and sip on it while chatting idly with the man. He’s decent, but you’re not paying much attention to the conversation as you sip your drink and look around the club.

Hobie walks through the club, his eyes darting around. When he sees you with the random guy, he frowns before he forces himself to push forward. He’s only slightly jealous. You don’t owe him anything. He just knows that he doesn’t want you with anyone else.

He pushes past a wall of people before finally reaching you. He taps the other guy on the shoulder before gently grabbing you by the elbow and pulling you away from him. He doesn’t say a word to the guy, only glaring at him before he leads you away.

“Hobie!” you exclaim as his hand closes around your elbow, already completely forgetting about the random man. The liquid swirls in your glass as you go up on your tiptoes to loop an arm around his neck and pull him into a hug. You have to do that even in heels.

“I didn’t think you were gonna come,” you say, your voice slightly slurring as you release him. You take another sip of the drink, wiping a bit of the alcohol off the corner of your lips with your thumb and licking it off.

“I couldn’t resist,” he replies, hugging you close and planting a kiss on your cheek. One hand finds its way onto your hip as the other reaches up towards your hair, fingers running through the ends of your hair—he just had to touch it. It seems like a crime to keep your hair so far away from him.

“I almost didn’t go in because I saw you here with this guy.” He gestures to the random man you were just talking with and his lips curl up in a scowl.

You frown for a moment. “Screw that guy,” you say loudly, the alcohol letting all your feelings simmer just under the surface. You can feel your friends watching like hawks. You look Hobie up and down, realizing that he was dressed in black on black on black. But he looked good, he’d put on chains and his chunky silver rings and smudged eyeliner around his eyes in the way you liked. His leather vest settled nicely on his shoulders, covered in studs and patches for bands and pins.

Not to mention that his hand on your waist made you feel grounded for the first time since you had shared breakfast together.

His other hand finds your waist, pulling you close to him and his lips fall to your ear. “You look beautiful,” he breathes before he whispers, “and you smell even better.”

His lips skim just above your neck, his mouth breathing warm breath on your skin. He can tell that you like it. The way your head tilts back, the way your eyes flutter closed. He knows you like this. A lot of time spent with one another gave him the upper hand in knowing all of your tells.

“Oh now you’re just being nice because it’s my birthday,” you murmur, blinking up at him sweetly. The light reflected off your dress in different colors, throwing patches of pinks and blues onto Hobie’s body.

He shakes his head, his lips still hovering just above your neck as he whispers, “no, this is just me being truthful.”

Even as he’s saying this, he’s not sure what he’s planning to do. He wants to kiss you, he wants to hold you tight and keep you close to him. But he’s never been so vulnerable. He can’t just take you from the club. He needs to know what you want.

“You smell of vanilla, and jasmine,” he adds, his lips finally finding your skin and kissing it. You shiver when he kisses your neck, the feeling of his lips igniting a fire on your skin. His lip ring is cold as it presses into the delicate skin, but you don’t care.

“I-I used that body wash you like,” you say like an idiot, your voice coming out before you even had the time to process what you were saying. Your free hand found the smooth plane of his shoulder as the other still held your drink. You took another gulp of it in an attempt to calm down.

His hand tightens around your waist, pulling you back into him. His tongue lightly brushes against your skin, exploring the lines of your neck as he kisses you again and again. You sigh into his touches, your hand curling around the back of his neck. Even drunk, you’re careful not to touch his hair.

“I didn’t get to give you a present,” he teases before whispering again, “and I know exactly what you want.” His hands move up from your waist and towards your hair, fingers wrapping around strands of it before he grips it tightly and plants his mouth on yours.

You gasp initially, melting into his arms. You nearly drop the glass you’re holding, but somehow Hobie has the good sense to pull it from your hand and place it on a table next to him; his lips never leaving yours. Your eyes slip closed as your fingers wrap around the collar of his vest and you pull him close to you. Hobie tastes like peppermint and a hint of rum, which makes you want him more.

You can feel his grip tighten, Hobie desperate for you; desperate to have your touch. His tongue dances as he kisses you with all the passion and love he’s thought about giving you. Your hands grip him and push him closer into you, your body pressed so tightly against his that you can’t tell where he ends and you begin.

His breath is warm on your lips as he continues, trying to kiss you harder as if he can transfer the feelings that are growing inside of him onto your body. He only wants you.

You can hear your friends cheering over the club music as you part, your lipgloss is smeared onto his lips. You laugh, wiping away the sticky substance with your thumb. “Can you take me home, Hobie?” you ask softly, still holding him close with your other hand.

Hobie’s breath catches in his throat as he hears your friends cheering you both on and he looks over his shoulder with a sheepish smile before he turns back to glance at you.

For as shy as he is with your friends, he’s not afraid to stare at you. Your eyes look like they’re almost glowing beneath the lights of the club as you ask him to take you home. He nods without hesitation. Nothing could stop him from spending time with you tonight. Nothing should.

Your friend hands you your phone back as you lace fingers with Hobie. So many firsts in one night, for all the times you’d slept together in the past you had never kissed or held hands. He tugs you gently out of the club as you pound the rest of my drink and leave it on the bar.

The night air is cool and brisk, but it still isn’t enough to sober you up completely. Thankfully it’s a short walk. You kick off your heels, your feet pressing against the dirty pavement. You had put on stockings under your dress to beat the cold, so they provide a thin barrier but nothing that actually will keep you clean. You are a bit of a messy person anyway, Hobie knew that.

Hobie’s mind is racing as he walks out of the club with you, your fingers looped with his own. He’s trying to decide what to say and do as he walks beside you. He can see you kicking off your heels and stepping on the cold pavement with your barely covered feet; a part of him wants to tell you to be careful, but he doesn’t, he can’t. He's too deep in his mind, he’s past the point of making rational decisions. He’s too far gone.

Hobie guides you back to the apartment, walking at a slower pace so you can keep up. “Wow, no telling me to be careful?” you tease softly as you walk, the breeze whipping your hair and dress around. You’re on cloud nine, the feeling of Hobie’s fingers laced with yours feeling like victory.

He bites his lip to stop himself from telling you to be careful; he wants, no, he desires to tell you how much he cares for you. He wants to say all the words that are dancing on his tongue. The words he’s been dying to say to you.

He wants this moment to never end. He just wants to stand right here, right beside you, with your fingers laced into his.

But he doesn’t do anything. He’s scared, scared he’ll mess something up. Scared that you don’t see him that way.

“Hobie,” you whine softly, recognizing that look on his face as he spirals into his thoughts. You stop walking, even when he softly tugs your hand. He turns to you, his brow furrowed in confusion.

You reach up, tapping your fingertips in the center of his forehead. “You’re stuck up here, come be with me,” you whisper, your words slurring a touch as you do.

His heart skips a beat when you tap your fingers to the center of his forehead. You might as well have just hit him with a defibrillator, Hobie’s entire body jolts with surprise.

He looks down at you with eyes wide. It takes him a moment to process what’s just happened. “Huh?” he asks, his voice barely more than a hushed whisper. He feels like he’s on a bad first date; he has no idea what the right move is and is almost afraid to make any move at all.

You smile at his confusion. “Good, you’re back.” You start walking again, this time you take the lead as you zigzag drunkenly to your apartment. Your black strappy heels dangle from the hand that isn’t holding Hobie’s. “You haven’t said a word since you whisked me away from the club,” you say, looking at him over your shoulder momentarily before continuing to walk. Your feet were starting to feel the cold.

“I… uh…” Hobie takes a long, deep breath before he continues, “I don’t know if I should say anything.”

He glances down at your bare feet and frowns. “Your feet are going to be cold,” he mumbles before he looks up at you again. “Should I say anything?” He asks again, “Or… should I keep my mouth shut?”

You have no idea how much he’s dying to say something to you. He’s so close, he’s practically begging you to give him the push.

“Hobie, I never want you to keep your mouth shut,” you say, stating it as if it’s an obvious fact. You can see your building approaching at the end of the block.

His angular features bloom with surprise at your answer and he can barely hold in the smile that’s trying to break out on his face. “Okay… okay good. Glad to hear it.” He swallows in lieu of saying anything else.

Your apartment is so close, he’s tempted to rush to get there. He’s trying to distract himself by finding something else to talk about. Anything else but his own feelings.

“Where’d you get that dress? It’s beautiful on you.”

You snort softly, “you don’t remember? We went shopping together. You bought your Dead Kennedys patch that day.” You look up at Hobie’s face, still walking a little ahead of him. You hope your eyes convey what you’re wanting them to, the alcohol still feels like it’s setting you on fire.

Hobie is about to say yes, he remembers without even recalling the memory before he remembers what happened that day a few weeks ago. It feels like something out of a dream, a distant fantasy. He remembers having you pressed into the corner of the dressing room with a hand over your mouth, but not the dress you bought.

His eyes dip to study the pavement, his voice slightly deeper than it usually is. “I remember.”

He can’t help it. The thoughts have been brewing in his gut, making his stomach ache like a sore tooth. He’s sick of waiting and wants to just get over it.

“I’m in love with you,” he tells you, his voice barely above a whisper.

His voice is almost quieter than the wind, but you hear it. You nearly stumble before turning to face Hobie. The excitement is there, your heart feels like it’s leaping out of your chest. Your brain short circuits as it processes what he said, not sure what to do with the information. You finally manage to spit out: “I’m in love with you, too.” Albeit you’re much louder than he is.

Hobie looks almost overwhelmed by your response and he opens his mouth to say something and closes it again. His heart skips a beat and the words that were about to cross his lips are long lost to the wind.

“You’re in love with me?” he asks, his voice still barely above a whisper, “like… in love with me?”

“Yeah, Hobie. Wasn’t it obvious?” you say, fidgeting with the heels you were still carrying.

He’s silent for a moment, trying to take in what you’re saying. “No,” he responds, “it- it wasn’t.”

“I just—“ he starts before he shakes his head. Words are failing him and it’s getting on his nerves. He doesn’t want to say anything stupid.

He clears his throat and tries again. “Look, this is going to sound dumb, and I’m only asking because I have to know…” he pauses and swallows, his eyes trained and focused on yours, “… can I kiss you?”

“Didn’t you kiss me already… at the club? As my birthday present?” you ask in a teasing tone, stepping closer to Hobie on the sidewalk. His sweet nature makes you smile widely. Your feet are borderline hypothermic but you don’t care, you won’t dare ruin this moment.

It takes all of his willpower to not lean forward and press his lips to yours. He can feel his heart thumping hard in his chest, like it’s fighting to tear itself out of his ribcage, desperate for freedom.

“I want to kiss you again. Just one more time. Just for me.” He looks at you with pleading eyes, trying to tell you with a look what he’s unable to in words.

“Well it better not be our last time kissing, Hobie Brown,” you say, reaching up and curling your hand around the collar of his shirt. Where he is shy, the alcohol in your system makes you bold. You yank him down, stretching on your frozen tiptoes to press your lips to his.

Hobie’s body jolts in surprise but it doesn’t stop him from leaning into the kiss. He wraps his arms around your back and presses closer to you, his body shivering in response.

Your lips are cold, but they send sparks through his entire body, causing his fingers to clench around you with a strength he didn’t know he had. His lips move against yours with passion, he’s unable to control himself. It’s you. It’s always been you for him.

You pull away after a few moments, grinning at him. “Now can we get back to the apartment before they have to amputate my feet due to hypothermia?” you ask, “I promise there’s more kisses for you there.” Your gaze flickers over his face. You feel electric, the song and dance you two have done for the past years settling into something new.

Hobie smiles back at you before he glances down at your feet. The skin looks like it could be frost bitten and numb already.

“We really should get you inside,” he says, “you can warm up your cheeks and feet.”

He turns and starts walking forward, but then he pauses again and turns to face you. His eyes drift down to your lips before he leans toward you once again, but this time it’s not a slow, romantic kiss—it’s a desperate one. And he’s not stopping at your lips.

“Hobie!” you exclaim as he kisses from your lips down your neck all the way to your collarbone. “Now if I freeze out here on my birthday I’m blaming you!”

"I take responsibility," he breathes against your neck before he plants kisses along your shoulder, "because this will be the best birthday you've ever had." His hands travel along your hips before he gently pulls you into him.

Your body is finally warmed by the heat of his lips and he holds you, his fingertips tracing the curve of your hip and lower back. He's so lost in the moment he nearly forgets to breathe.

"It's all I want for you," he tells you again and again, his lips moving to your collar bone and throat.

Someone in a car driving by wolf whistles, making you part. You’re shivering as you look at each other as though you were seeing each other for the first time. Your teeth chatter in the wind. When you put on this outfit you had imagined taking a cab home after the party.

Hobie glances over his shoulder at the driver who catcalls you and he rolls his eyes. "Come on," he urges, "your feet can still freeze, let's get you in."

He wraps his arm around you as he walks, his fingertips pressing gently against your skin and trying to warm you up. Your hair whips against you and you can still feel the warmth of his lips on your skin. His other hand rests at your side, close enough for you to take if you wanted.

You do, your other hand holding your shoes as you finally climb the steps to the apartment. Hobie pulls out his keys swiftly and unlocks the door in a fluid motion. The heat from inside makes you sigh contentedly.

He leads you inside, and as soon as the door closes behind you, the cold is gone. A rush of warm air hits you, almost like stepping outside after being on a plane.

He closes the door and locks it behind you. “Thank God,” he mutters, “I was afraid you’d freeze your feet to the sidewalk.” His eyes drift down to your shoes and he sighs. “Go put them in your room.”

He gestures toward the door but doesn’t say another word. Instead, he watches you, his eyes glued to your movements.

Usually, you’re combative when drunk, but something about the affection in his voice makes you listen. You briefly look at yourself in the mirror. You look a little worse for wear, your hair is a little tangled and your makeup is smudged. You wipe some from under your eyes and try to untangle the bigger knots before going back into the living room.

Hobie waits for you in the living room, glancing at the clock on the wall. It’s nearly 2 a.m. and he’s exhausted, but his heart is too full for him to sleep. You come back looking like a drunk mess which would usually make him laugh, but he’s too lost in you.

He’s still staring at you, his dark eyes studying you and finding everything about you that he thinks is beautiful.

“Help me unzip my dress,” you say to him quietly, turning and pulling your hair over your shoulders. You have the soft, stolen t-shirt of his in your hand. You’re aching to put it on.

Hobie doesn’t say a word, he just takes himself over to you, stands behind you, and starts unzipping your dress. The fabric slips down your back, exposing the skin of your shoulders. Your hair drapes over your back, still damp with sweat and alcohol. He takes in your beauty.

He smiles at you again as he pulls the dress down your arms. When he finishes, you stand in nothing but your bra and underwear and he looks a little flushed. “I think you might want something a little warmer,” he says, his tone light and teasing.

You roll your eyes, pulling Hobie’s large t-shirt over your head. Plus it wasn’t like anything under your dress was new to Hobie. “You are such a momma hen,” you say to him, turning around with a smile. The contrast is interesting. There is still glitter all over your body and your hair is still curled as you wore his faded, ratty t-shirt that really should have been tossed.

You’re an absolute mess and he can’t help but stare at you. In that moment he realizes just how hard he falls for you, and for the first time in his life, he’s not afraid to fall.

“You’re drunk,” he says with a chuckle.

“I know,” you say, laughing back. “I probably look like a crazy person.” You run a hand through your hair, getting stuck at a knot, “hopefully you’re still attracted to me.”

His eyes light up when you say that and he shakes his head. “I’m very attracted to you,” he replies, his tone flirtatious and playful.

He reaches out and pulls you into him, embracing you tightly. You feel his warmth through his T-shirt. “I’m more than attracted to you. You’ve taken up residence in my head.” He kisses your cheek before he pulls away, smiling again.

The alcohol is starting to wear off and he’s starting to notice you shiver again. “Come on, let’s get you in bed.”

You nod complacently, surprised when he starts pulling you to his room. All the times you’d slept together in the last had been in your bed. You can’t even remember a time you had been inside his room.

He pauses outside the door and turns to you, his voice quieter than before.

“I need you to know something, and I don’t want you leaving this room until you do.”

He takes a deep breath and steadies himself, you can see how much this moment means to him.

“You’re more than just my roommate.” Your name falls softly from his lips, his accent curling around it like a blanket. His eyes hold yours, almost like he can see your soul. “You’re everything that’s worth fighting for, every day that makes the world better, every beautiful moment, every laugh. You… you are my home.”

You feel too many emotions flood your mind as you look up at him. “God, I wish I wasn’t drunk right now so I could think of something beautiful to say to you,” you say, laughing softly.

“I do love you Hobes, I have for years.”

He smiles at you as you laugh. You look so beautiful, so amazing to him. And you don’t even need to say anything for him to know what you feel.

He pulls you inside his room, closes the door, and sits down on his bed. His hands are on your chin, his fingers tracing the contours of your mouth. Your eyes, your cheeks. He releases you to stand in the center of his bedroom. You are looking around his room, taking in all of the things that make Hobie Hobie. He has two guitars mounted on the wall, there’s some laundry on the floor. His walls are littered with posters and paint and memorabilia, and he has two large bookshelves on the side of this room that are nearly full.

“Come here,” he rasps. “I want to kiss you.” His voice brings you back to the present as you make your way toward him, standing between his legs as he sits on his unmade bed.

He can see the spark of excitement in your eyes as he guides you to stand between his legs. Your face is at the perfect height for him to kiss you again. He lifts your chin and pulls you close. Hobie’s hands travel over your back and shoulders, the backs of his fingers trailing along your skin.

“Close your eyes,” he sighs, his voice hoarse, and his mouth collides with yours, soft, gentle, and eager. He holds you close, embracing you like his life depends on it. You interlock your fingers behind the nape of his neck to ground yourself with touch. The kiss is needier, your teeth knocking with his on occasion as his nose presses along yours. The ring through his nostril is cold, tickling you occasionally.

“God, I love you so much,” he says into you. The few shots of alcohol have worn off and the words spill out of him so quickly.

The glitter shimmers on your skin and the light from his lamp caresses your body. Hobie breaks the kiss and gazes at you, his lips still tasting like yours.

You open your eyes as he pulls away, a smile blooming on your face. The alcohol is still strong in you; if anything, its warmth has worn off but the buzzing in your head still continues. You nuzzle into his neck, pressing your cold nose to his skin. “I love you, Hobie.”

He runs his fingers along your arm, his touch gentle and loving. He leans back and looks at you as he rests his weight on his hands.

“Can I ask you something?” He raises a brow, “and I mean really ask you something?” He sounds nervous, anxious.

“Yeah,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek at the tone of his voice. You feel your brows knit together in concern as you look up at him, my ears still ringing from the nightclub.

“What are we?” He looks at you, still nervous but determined. You may have had some drinks but your eyes are bright and focused on him.

“Like—“ he swallows back the lump in his throat before he speaks again. “What are we doing? Are we friends? Are we something more? Are we even in this at all?” He laughs nervously, looking away.

“You’ve gotta be the one to make that choice, Hobie,” you say softly, your brows still pinched together as you look at him. “The last time this happened…” tears well in your eyes as you think about it, the alcohol bringing the emotions to the surface. “You shut me down. Said you didn’t like labels or consistency. So now you have to choose.”

Hobie swallows hard as your eyes well up with tears. You look so beautiful in that moment, the alcohol on your skin sparkling in the light from the bedside lamp.

Hobie hooks his hands under the backs of your knees and pulls you to his lap in a surprising show of strength. His calloused fingers wipe your tears away, and part of you knows if your makeup wasn’t ruined before it definitely is now. “If you’re gonna break my heart, you may as well do it now,” you whisper, laughing softly through the tears. The ridiculousness of the situation gets to you.

Hobie laughs aloud, relieved to see you laugh. “Darling, there’s no way in hell I could ever break your heart.”

He looks at you, his eyes holding yours, his fingertips caressing your skin. “I’m in love with you.” His eyes dance with moonlight slotting through his window. “I can’t promise you the world. What I can promise you is that when I walk out the door, I’ll come back to you, because you’re home to me.”

“Promise?” you whisper, holding up your pinky for him to take. Pinky promises are stupid, but you are a strong believer in them. Hobie knows that.

Hobie chuckles and he holds up his pinky, intertwining his finger with yours. His hands are rough from playing the guitar, but his touch is soft and gentle right now.

"I promise."

He pulls you into him, his arms wrapped around your body. "No matter what, I’ll find my way back to you. You’re everything that I’ve ever wanted and... you make me happy."

You bury your face in his chest, nodding as my fingers tangle in the ripped shirt Hobie wore. He smells so comforting, like sandalwood and cinnamon. You fit together perfectly, your bodies curved together and your cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

He rests his head atop yours, his arms still curled around you. The two of you sit on the bed, and he can feel the warmth of your body spread through his fingers.

You try to stifle a small yawn, hoping Hobie didn’t hear it. You just wanted to keep talking with him. This all felt like a dream, you being in his room, in his bed. You worry that tomorrow you’ll wake up and you will go back to being roommates like none of this ever happened.

“Oh, I felt that yawn,” he murmurs, his voice sleepy. “C’mon, you can tell me everything tomorrow.”

He tucks his arms around you again and shifts his weight, rolling you to him so he’s now in the big spoon position.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Goodnight,” you hear him whisper your name softly as you drift off.

He’s content to just hold you in his bed all night. As you sleep, his breathing softens and his hand rests on your hip.

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