#(and I can't do anything but sit and wait for another month and a half and just. hope maybe this doctor will do their job.)

[kirby-the-gorb]

[littledovesnow]

a growing family pt. 2

a/n: yay for part 2!! read part one here

word count: 1.8k

warnings: pregnancy, pretty canon-level violence and stuff i think. also i'm sorry in advance about this part <3

-----

"Now, Mr. Snow, you and your wife leave tomorrow for your District Tour." Lucky Flickerman spoke into microphone, eyes bouncing between Coriolanus and you.

Coriolanus nodded, not quite sure where this was going. He was briefed on the. main topics that Flickerman would go over during the interview and this was not one of them.

"Is there any worry about the twins? Congratulations, by the way! Twins! How lucky are you!"

You smiled, patting your husband's hand to signal that you would answer this question.

"Thank you, Lucky," you started, sweet smile on your face. "I've been in conversation with my medical team, and we've all come to an agreement that it's quite safe for me to travel with Coriolanus and the rest of his cabinet. I'm not due for another couple of months, anyway."

Coriolanus smiled at you, voicing his answer, as well. "We've also spoken to the OB/GYN, and she will be joining us on the latter half of the tour. We hope she can just enjoy the travel, not needed for any medical emergencies."

Lucky nodded, satisfied with that answer. "Now, Coriolanus, you've mentioned in some changes to the Hunger Games in the coming years. We've had questions coming in from watchers, but first, a few words from our generous sponsors."

The red light went off on top of the cameras, and you let the superficial smile fall from your face, hand going to rub your lower back.

"Your back still hurt, love?" Coriolanus asked, noticing your discomfort.

"I think our kids are going to be soccer professional, Coryo." You grumbled, one of the twins had been kicking mercilessly for a few weeks.

Coriolanus chuckled, removing your hand, using his palm to massage the area. "Well, you can tell them off when they're out here."

Lucky, who had been observing the couple from his spot on the seat across from them, wore a smile. "One thing that my wife asked I do when she was pregnant with Caesar was massage her back every night. Sometimes she still makes me do it."

You smiled at the TV host, humming. "Not a bad idea. Coryo, I think I know what your next job will be."

Coriolanus snorted, hand still massaging your back. "Anything for the mother of my children."

-----

The train car you were currently seated in was more luxurious than you remembered, seats having been upholstered from your last trip out of the Capitol.

You looked away from the mountain ranges decorating the horizon when the door opened, Coriolanus entering.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, coming to sit in the seat across from you, moving your feet from the seat to his lap.

Humming, you leant your head back as he began massaging them. "Better now. What was that meeting for? I thought you had travel days free."

Coriolanus pondered over how to answer, not wanting to tell you he had just had some rebels executed for a potential threat in Six. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with."

Opening an eye to look at him, you could read the man like an open book. "How many were there?"

There was a beat of silence before Coriolanus spoke up.

"Four. Would have been three but some things you can't avoid."

You didn't reply, simply wiggling your foot when Coriolanus' hands stopped massaging the arch of your foot.

He laughed, resuming the action as you two watched the mountain ranges and nature outside of the train.

-----

You yawned, staring at the ceiling of the Crane's hotel in District Three. It was nearing one in the morning, and you had gotten a sum total of about two and a half hours since you and Coriolanus crawled into the bed.

Moving as quietly as you could, you rose from the bed, waiting a beat to see if Coriolanus woke up.

His rather loud snore told you he was still off dreaming, something you were thankful for. He had a lot on his shoulders, and you didn't want to add onto the never-ending pile of worry and stress with the upcoming election.

Moving to the bathroom, you softly closed the door and looked at yourself in the mirror. The twins had been keeping you up at night more frequently, and your OB/GYN said it was just because while they were starting to get a regular sleep pattern, they couldn't tell day from night and often slept during the day.

When you opened the door, you frowned when you saw your husband sitting up in the bed, cheek still indented from the creases in the pillow.

"What are you doing up?" He asked, voice hoarse from sleep.

Rubbing one hand across your ever-growing bump, sleepily blinking at the man across from you. "Your children are wide awake, it seems."

Coriolanus smiled, patting the spot you had previously occupied. "Come here, I'll rub your back."

With the promise of that, you made your way back into the bed, stuffing one of the many pillows on the bed between your knees.

"Oh, well hello, little one."

You looked at where Coriolanus was staring at your bump, tiny foot barely visible. "Oh that's the most disturbing thing I think I've ever seen."

"Don't say that!" Coriolanus chided, though there was a smile on his face. "That's your child in there!"

"Coryo, you shouldn't be able to see their hands from outside!" You laughed, even though your OB/GYN said it was very possible to start to see little hands and feet as there became less and less free space.

Coriolanus pressed a kiss to your hairline, rubbing the place where the foot was. "Hi, babies. Please let your mother sleep, she needs to help me win over the hearts of Panem."

Rolling your eyes, you moved Coriolanus' hand to your back, letting your head fall back against a pillow. "Rub my back."

"Yes dear."

-----

Hand clasped tightly in Coriolanus' you two followed the Peacekeepers to the barracks to meet with the district's mayor and Commanding Peacekeeper.

You two had won the hearts over a majority of each District you've visited, but as you two traveled farther from the Capitol, you knew it would be more difficult and the chance of threats and rebels increased.

The number of Peacekeepers surrounding you two had grown within each stop, Coriolanus wanting to make sure nothing happened to his wife and mother of his children, his heirs.

"Mr. and Mrs. Snow, we're very pleased you two could be here!" The mayor smiled, shaking both of your hands.

You returned the sentiment, eyes locked on the plush-looking chair behind him. "Is it alright if I sit? My feet are killing me."

The mayor, who seemed to have just realized how large your bump had grown, nodded quickly, gesturing to the chair you had pointed to.

Coriolanus stood behind you, one hand smoothing your hair as he and the mayor discussed the afternoon's speeches and tour around the main hub.

"Will you be joining us, Mrs. Snow?"

"No, she's been feeling a little more tired." Coriolanus replied before you could speak up.

The mayor frowned, seemingly disappointed.

"Is there a problem?" You asked, feeling Coriolanus' hand still at the nape of your neck.

"Well, the children here have been so excited to meet you, but I'm sure seeing Mr. Snow will be just as fine."

Coriolanus knew you had a soft spot for children, how they still saw the best in everything. "Love, you barely slept last night. It's safer if you rest."

"Coryo, it won't be too long. And besides, we have a couple travel days I can catch up on sleep."

You ignored your husband's deep frown, instead smiling at the mayor. "We can't possibly let the kids down, can we?"

The mayor clapped happily, rising from his seat. "Well then, shall we go?"

You stood from the chair with some help from your husband, who placed a hand on your lower back, unable to keep his hands off of you.

"You're a spoiled brat, you know that?" He whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"And you love me for it." You replied, sharp smile on your face.

-----

Coriolanus watched as you followed a few of the schoolchildren around the classroom, letting them explain the backgrounds of their various posters and projects.

"She's going to be a wonderful mother." The mayor spoke, standing next to Coriolanus.

He nodded, watching you kneel down to listen more to a rather small girl, your eyes focused on her entirely. "She already is."

"Mr. Snow, Mayor, we're going to be late if we don't head for the town square now."

Nodding, Coriolanus walked over to your side, kneeling down next to you and the young girl. "Hi, love. Mind introducing me to your friend?"

You looked at your husband, and then at the young girl. "Coryo, meet Clementine. Her friends call her Clemmie."

Coriolanus saw the twinkle in your eye as you looked back at the girl. "It's lovely to meet you, Clemmie. You know, Mrs. Snow and I have a friend named Clemmie."

"Really?" Little Clementine asked, eyes wide.

Nodding, Coriolanus helped you stand up straight. "We do, but don't worry, we can have two Clemmies. Now, I do have to steal Mrs. Snow now, we have to go to town square."

Clementine pouted, but nodded. "It was nice to meet you!"

"You, too, Clemmie! Good luck with your new brother!" You smiled, squeezing Coriolanus' hand as the two of you followed some Peacekeepers out of the school and down to the town square and stage.

You've only seen the stage on television for the Reaping Ceremonies, it looked larger on screen. "She was so sweet, Coryo. She was telling me how her mother looked like me and now she has a little brother."

Coriolanus smiled, thumb rubbing your hand. "That's very sweet. I'm sure you made her ent-"

A loud explosion cut Coriolanus off, Peacekeepers immediately springing into action, separating the two of you to get you both to safety.

There were a few more explosions around the stage, sending debris and dirt in the air.

"Coryo!" You called, trying to wriggle out of the Peacekeepers' grip and find your husband.

You coughed as you inhaled smoke, eyes wide to spot Coriolanus. "Let me go! I need to find Coriolanus!"

"Ma'am, you need to come with us! We have orders to bring both you and Mr. Snow to a safe room, please cooperate."

You had a disdain for the Peacekeeper who spoke to you rather harshly, feeling his hands tighten their grip on your bicep.

Stumbling a few times, you had finally made it to the small bunker, heart hammering when you saw Coriolanus and the mayor already in there, dirt on both of their faces and clothing.

"Love," Coriolanus sighed in relief, though it was short-lived as he ran his eyes over your body. "Love, you're bleeding."

-----

a/n: oh how i love a good cliff-hanger

[whore-ibly-hot]

Yan!Farm-boy x Reader

'City Boys ain't worth nothin'

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Smut, NON-CON, mentions of exs, p-in-v sex, mentions of religon, mentions of conservatives, bondage, mentions of marriage, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of divorce, female and male genitalia, female reader, pet names, sub-par writing of southern accent.

(AN: Had fun with this one!)

Sitting on your porch, you sip from a cup of sweet tea provided by your lovely Aunt May, when you hear the sound of a truck approaching. A cloud of dust can be seen flying up from the dirt road as the beaten-up yellow pick up from the McCall farm rolls up the edge of your aunt's driveway. A freckle faced, redheaded boy parks the car, and hops out, his face and arms already red from having been working in the sun all day. You huff, but call out to your aunt. "Aunt May! That McCall boy's here!" You yell, a twinge of annoyance in your voice.

Ever since your parents split up, you moved from the city to live with your aunt May in this godforsaken hick town. You've always seen yourself as a city-girl, and just the thought of spending even a month on some dusty farm in the middle of nowhere made you want to gag. Despite the fact you've been here for several months now, the feeling has not gone away. Aunt May is nice, but you miss your friends, and you would rather die than go to another country-bumpkin harvest festival or Sunday service. Your predicament isn't helped by Joey McCall, the youngest son of the McCall family. From what you've gathered, the McCall's have been the largest family in this county for years. While not necessarily rich, they are well-known as salt-of-the-earth people, always willing to help. The McCall family has six kids, with the oldest four already married and starting their own families in the county. It seems that's Joey's goal too.

Everyday, even before you arrived in town, Joey was hired as a farmhand for your aunt, tending to animals and mucking the horses. He took pride in his work, and it only furthered his position as a town darling. When you arrived, despite your arrogance and clear disgust at your new life, he feels that you just need to see how great it is to live in a community like this. Joey hadn't really ever felt anything serious for the girls from town, and some would even say he didn't seem like the romantic type. This was far from the truth, as it was plain as day what he wanted when he would go doe-eyed at the preachers sermons on marriage, and god's purpose for it. He hasn't relented since he met you. Flowers, offering you baked goods, offering to do your chores, whatever you need to get him on your good side. Frankly, you can't stand him. It's not that you hate him persay, but you want nothing to do with this community of red-necks, and you would NEVER sink so low as kissing one of these country bumpkins sons.

Joey hops up the porch with a grin, adjusting the strap of his overalls as he approaches you. 'Aunt May, please hurry up and give him his chores already!' You think, trying to suppress rolling your eyes. "Mornin', stranger!" He teases. "It's a nice morning, sun's not too hot neither..." You nod, trying to simply wait out the conversation. He waits for you to speak, and when you don't, he sighs, but is happy to do the talking. "I'm glad I ran into you, I hadn't seen ya the last few times I visited. I-I sure hope you're not avoidin' me!" He laughs awkwardly, his grin faltering a little when you don't deny that this was your intention. He clears his throat, and quickly turns around, grabbing something from his back pocket. He thrusts his hand out, and a bundle of mixed flowers and weeds rests in it, still covered in dirt. You look disgusted at the half-dead bouquet.

"I don't want that." You say. His hand shakes a little, and he rubs the back of his neck with his free-hand. "Yeah, I understand. I was actually riding Maisie this morning, and by the time I saw these out in the field, she'd trampled right over em' with her hooves." He tosses the bouquet away over the porch, and it falls apart immediately upon impact with the ground. "It was stupid a' me to think ya'd like em'. Worth a shot though!" You open your mouth to retort, but before you can your aunt finally comes to the porch.

"Mornin' Ma'am!" Joey greets, and she responds sweetly, before pointing out a few things round the farm from her spot on the porch she'd like him to get done. He nods, and after grabbing the toolbox he'd always leave by the stairs, he sets off. You decide you've had enough off outside for today, and head back inside, placing your now empty glass on the counter.

Several hours go by, and as you flick through the channels on the tv, (most of which are static due to the terrible signal out here), you hear your aunt call you from the kitchen. As you enter, you can see she's finishing preparing lunch, a salad bowl to her left and a knife in her hand. Her free hands steadies some lettuce on the cutting board. "Hiya kiddo', how's your day been so far?" She asks. You don't hate your aunt, and lie to protect her feelings. "Fine. Just fine." You lean against the counter. "That poor McCall boy has been out there all mornin', hasn't even come in to ask for a glass of water." She sighs. You roll your eyes. "Be a dear and bring him this sandwich, would ya?" You want to say no more than anything, but when your aunt raises her brow and gives you that look, you quickly take the plate and scurry out to the barn.

As you approach, the sound of hammering and heavy breathing can be heard. As you enter, you see Joey trying to patch the gate on one of the horse-stalls. It seems he sent the horses out into the field, as the barn is empty save for you and him. "My aunt wanted you to have some lunch." You say coldly, placing the plate on top of a turned-over bucket which you considered to be the only place clean enough for it. Joey looks up, eyes wide in appreciation. "Well, thank ya' very much! I'll admit, I've been getting might hungry sittin' out here tryna' fix this darned gate." He huffs. He thinks it's a problem with the hinge. You let out a 'hmm', in response, and begin to leave, when Joey abruptly hops up and grabs your wrist. As soon as he sees your face change to one of disgust and shock, he recoils.

"Sorry to spook ya', I just wanted to ask you something before ya' ran of like ya' always do..." He places the hammer down, and his hands come to fidget at his side. "There's a party being held soon, outside the church. It's a picnic on the lawn sorta' thing, we have one every year. It's a real big deal." You raise an eyebrow. "I guess what I'm tryna' ask is if you'd considering going with me? I could show ya' around, help you meet some of the other townsfolk. Hell' ya' could even meet my sisters! I bet ya'd get along swell." His smile become shy, his freckle disappearing into his skin as a bright red blush covers his face. He hopes you think it's just a sunburn. You sigh, and shake your head. "I'm sorry, Joey. I don't think so..." You say. He frowns, but quickly nods. "Nah, I get it. It's kind of a big event. Maybe we could start with something smaller, maybe just the two of us? Say- I know a real nice spot north of the creek, I could take ya down there, a-and we could-" You let out a loud groan, and stomp your foot.

"No, Joey! It's not that I don't want trampled flowers, or I don't want to go to some big event with all you hick's, it's that I don't want you!" You exclaim. His face falls immediately, that light in his eyes extinguished like squashing one of the fire flies you'd see in the fields on a hot evening. "What..." He mumbles, shaking his head a little. "I don't want to date some small-town guy, okay! I don't even want to be in this town. I have a life back in the city, where I belong. Shit, I've got a BOYFRIEND!" You yell. His sadness at your rejection falls for a minute, and he seems to freeze his panicked breaths. "Ya- Ya' gotta' beau already?" He asks, his voice trembling as he swallows heavily. "A beau? What the hell does that mean, some kind of country talk? Yes, I have a boyfriend, and a very handsome one from the city at that." You sneer, turning your nose up at the boy.

"He pretty?" Joey mumbles, licking his lips as his gaze falls to the floor. You raise an eyebrow at the odd question. "Yes, he's very handsome." You respond. "S' got a lotta' money?" He asks. You nod again, not bringing yourself to be able to speak at Joeys sudden change in demeanor. When Joey does finally look up again, his face is no longer blushing red, but red with shame and embarrassment. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes. "W-well, it ain't gonna work out. I know how boys from the city are. They only want one thing from girls... that's what the preacher says." He points out the barn door. "You know Peggy, from the grocery store? She went and ran off with a boy from the city once. H-he knocked her up and left her alone, no where else to go. She came back to town, and she eventually married my brother Samuel. She always says he's the best thing that happened to her. He saved her..." Joey whimpers, his fist trembling at his side. You scoff. "Please, boys from the city have plenty to offer-" He cuts you off. "MORE THAN ME?!" He yells, a sob cracking his voice. "Have you done it with your pretty beau? Has he made you feel good?" You gasp, shocked at his vulgar question. "I don't have to tell you that..." You exclaim. "I'm not asking, I'm tellin' you to tell me." His voice is now filled with an equal tone of contempt, though you don't think it's direct at you, but rather the image of your boyfriend he's conjured up in his head. "He has. We've had sex before, he was my first." You say, swallowing nervously as you try to stand your ground.

"Then lemme ask you one more thing..." Joey huffs. "Is he gonna' marry you? Get ya' a nice house, some pretty dresses, keep ya' safe?" You shrug. "Uh, we're only twenty, we don't need to think about that." Joey shakes his head. "Cause'... Cause' that's what I'd do for ya'. Get you a nice ring, somethin' to match all your pretty dresses and clothes from the city. I'd build ya' a house right on my ma and pa's land, make sure we're still close to the family, but still give us some privacy..." He swallows harshly, taking a few steps towards you. "But most of all, I'd make sure you were safe, safe from any city boy who'd try to get off in ya' and then leave." He's now only a few inches from you. "And I intend to do that." He whispers.

You gasp as his calloused hands grab your wrists, turning you around to face the barn wall. He frees one of his hands up and moves to the stall door he was working on, bumping it open with his hips and shutting it behind the two of you. "L-Let go you brute! Get off of me!" You yell. He rips the red patterned bandanna he usually wears around his neck to keep the sun off, and quickly shoves the cloth in between your pretty, soft lips. As you try to kick, your feet only seem to bounce off the boys firm chest. "That's one thing about us farm boys, we're pretty strong. Firm, ya' know?" He whispers. He forces you to turn over, and you sit on the floor of the stall with your back to the wooden wall of the barn. Joey fumbles around, looking for something. His hand brushes across a rough rope for leading the horses mixed into the hay of the stall, and in just a few moments your hands are bound up to a horse feeder, just above your head. You whine through the gag, tears beginning to fall down your face. He shakes his head.

"Nah, c'mon now... don't cry. It's gonna be okay, I promise ya'." He whispers, brushing away one of your tears with the pad of his thumb. "Don't be scared, I'm not gonna do anything that hurts ya', I just wanna prove to you how good I can be. I realise, I can give you all the things that I said earlier, but... but I know the one thing that city boys have given you." Your eyes widen when you understand his words. He smiles softly. "I know the pastor says we should wait till' marriage, but I kinda need to convince ya' to marry me, and I know now to do that I have to prove that I can give everything some city boy can, and more." His hand comes to rest on your knee, before he uses the palm of his hand to bunch up the fabric of your pink skirt, now smudged with dirt. "Sorry about the location, didn't want anyone to see us. I-I'll buy ya' another dress after this, one even prettier, okay?" He says. Hiking up your skirt, your trembling thighs are visible to him, and the sheer lace of your panties allows him to see you without even taking them off. "Wow, I've never seen something as pretty as this..." His fingers trace the top of the lace, brushing your outer lips slightly. Despite your fear, the contact with a sensitive spot makes you whimper through the makeshift gag. "Maybe I don't wanna get ya' a new dress, maybe I want to see ya' in more of these." He laughs a little, rubbing the back of his neck.

His rough hands try to pull down the fabric around your womanhood, though your resistance makes it hard. Eventually, he groans and simply rips the lace in two, tucking it into the pocket of his overalls. "Surely, since this is damaged now, ya' won't need it." He mumbles. He toys with just the fabric in his hands for a moment, his curiosity evident, before he turns back to you. "I'm gonna get a look at ya', okay? See what exactly a pretty girl like you is workin' with." He roughly slots himself in between your knees, making closing them impossible. His large fingers part your folds, giving him a full view of your moist, aroused pussy. He bites his lip, letting out what can only be described as whimper. "G-geez, darlin'. This is definently better than them' health videos they used to show us in the schoolhouse..." He sighs. Joey's face falls for a moment, suddenly insecure.

"I guess you'll be wanting to see me now, too." He removes one hand from your inner thigh, and unclasps the shoulder straps of his overalls. "I-I'll admit, I know there's a little more to all this, but I only really know the basics, so I'm gonna show ya' what I know how to do. Rest assured though, I'm a quick learner." He stammers. His hand is shaking, and it takes several seconds for him to even undo one button on his overalls. Eventually, they fall, resting just below his wait. He lifts his button up shirt slightly, revealing a pair of briefs, and a very prominent bulge. He blushes as he looks down at it, and your eyes widen at the size. "Y'know, I've never had to deal with these before I met ya'. But, sometimes I go home and thinkin' of you is the only way to get em' to go away." His face is even redder with shame. He pulls the briefs down, allowing his cock to spring free. It's thick, and veiny. Somehow, it's freckled, much like his face. He spits into his hand, shivering as he rubs it down his length. "Sorry I don't have something better than my spit. I know it's kinda' gross, but, we are doin' it in a barn." He pulls his hips forward a little, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance, which against your will is now soaked with arousal. "See, I've already got you wet, I can do whatever that boyfriend back home can do for ya'." He says.

"Listen, I know ya'd said you've had sex with him, but I know it can still hurt a little. So, I promise to be real gentle with ya'." He stroke your face with his free hand, and presses his chapped lips to your forehead in a tender kiss. "I'll never get over how much softer you are than me..." He whispers. He begins to hump his manhood against your entrance, biting his lips each time he angles away from you instead of penetrating. "Huh, this is a lil' harder than I thought..." He seems upset at the idea he is under-performing. He takes his hand, and with a solid grip on his member, he pushes the tip just past your hymen, making you squeak into the gag. Before he's even fully got the tip in, his legs are shaking at the feeling. "Oh... Oh lord..." He stammers, fighting the urge to put himself in you all at once. He musters all his strength to pull out, then go back in, just a touch deeper this time. After a few thrusts, he's almost bottomed out in you. Despite your shaking head, your pleas for him to stop, muffled by the gag, soon turn to wanton moans. He places his hands against your hips, allowing him to work himself in and out of you. "God, you're so wet, a-and it's tight... God, didn't know you'd be this tight." He shakes his head though, and leans forward. "Not bad though, not a bad thing, darlin'. You feel so good around me, do I make you feel good too?" In a moment of weakness you nod, prompting him to grin widely. He's so overwhelmed in the moment, from the pleasure and happiness, that his eyes begin to swell with tears. He quickens his pace, almost sobbing now. "My pretty darlin', taking me so well. Making me feel so good, such a good girl. Not city boy could give you what ya' need, not like me..." He huffs. He angles his hips up just a bit, so his tip smacks against a spot deep inside you.

At this, you practically convulse, making him continue once he notices your reaction. "I'll make you finish, don't worry. That's what a good beau does, makes you finish..." He groans, his pace now rapid as he hammers at that spot. Both you can him feel a coil forming in your stomachs, ready to burst. "Hah, I think I'm gonna cum to, you wanna' come together?" His minds fills with thoughts as he thinks more on this while chasing his high. "I already said I-I would marry ya', build ya' a house. We could add on an extra room, for a baby." Your eyes widen in panic at the thought. "Don't worry, I wouldn't leave ya' if you got pregnant from this. That's what that city boy did to Peggy, remember?" He moans. "I'd help ya' the whole way. Build our little one a crib, get them clothes, and I'll bet you'd still be beautiful, if your worried about that." He assures you. You can feel his cock twitching inside you, as as the coil inside you bursts, you feel yourself cumming around him. He gags, inhaling a breath at the feeling. Soon, you feel him convulsing to, a warm liquid filling your caverns as he groans. "God, you're milking me, taking all my seed. So good for me... C'mon baby, just let me stay in a little more, fill ya' up." He groans. After a few seconds, he finally pulls out, and pants, wiping some sweat from his brow. He makes sure to close your legs, wanting to keep in all the seed. He chuckles a little. "Y'know, I'm sure that seed'll take pretty quick... my dad says all the McCall boys are fertile..." He pauses .

"That's why I've got so many siblings."

[luveline]

SPOILERS FROM SPIDER-MAN ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE BELOW

please don’t read any further if you are avoiding spoilers for satsv

I hope it’s okay that I took this for a request anon! this is a follow up to The Wishing Tree so you’re welcome to read that beforehand if you want to, but otherwise I think if you’ve seen the movie you’ll hopefully understand what’s happening anyhow. miguel x fem!reader

Miguel's been different lately. Ever since the night he got mugged, he's changed. There's something he's not telling you. You wonder if you should ask him about it, but guiltily, shamefully, you don't want to. You don't want this to stop. 

Because all of a sudden it's like he's in love with you again. You're being cruel to him, you worry, in thinking he didn't love you before. Of course he did. Just getting married, having a child together, it’s changed you both so much over the years, it's only natural that the honeymoon affection faded. Natural, and yet you'd been missing it. You didn't realise how much until now. 

Miguel gets home from work now and he's tentatively sweet. Before, he'd get home, sighing from how tired he felt, overlooked and overworked at Alchemex, and there'd be little energy left in him for more than a kiss on the cheek and a shoulder squeeze. You missed him and you were glad to have him home, but you wanted more from him that you felt you couldn't ask for. 

These days you're waiting by the door and pretending you aren't. You'd be embarrassed if he found out. Maybe he knows; there's no reason for you to be sitting on the stairs with a half full laundry basket in hand, but there you are, your heart racing with an almost teenage-like excitement. 

"Hey," Miguel says, smiling as he brushes through the door. "Are you okay? Why are you sitting there?" He waves his hand at you ineffectually as he takes off his coat, hanging it on the rack. 

"Just got tired," you lie, slightly breathless at the sight of his smile. 

He really looks like he adores you. All the time. It's making you weird, but how are you supposed to react? You'd never slander him to anyone, but it had been so disappointing to wait for him and get brushed off night after night. You know he was tired. You know he was doing it for you, for Gabriella. But you can't help feeling the difference. 

"You sure?" he asks, tucking his bag into the hutch. 

You nod. 

He nods back, murmuring, "Okay," as he leans down to kiss you. On the lips, and not the cheek. 

He takes the laundry basket from your lap quicker than you realise. You can't stop him in time as he steps around you on the stairs and races up them to the bathroom where the washing machine resides. Your heart jumps into your throat —he'll see the full load and he'll know you were sitting there with the basket for no reason at all. You'd wanted to look busy, and now you'll look like a fool. 

You follow him slowly, not wanting to see. Miguel loves you, but he's always said you need affection more than the average person. Not once had he implied that you should feel bad about that, but you had anyhow. What if he thinks you're being childish, wanting to see him? 

He puts the basket next to the washing machine, barely looking at it. "No more chores," he says, grinning at you. "You do too much." 

You blink. "You think so?" 

"Do I think so?" he asks, with a fond incredulity. "You're always doing something. Washing, cleaning, cooking. All you have to do tonight is sit down. Can you do that?" 

"You don't have to tell me twice," you say. 

Maybe this will wear off. Someone held a gun to his chest and it unsettled him, knowing how close he was to dying. He's feeling grateful for a second chance, and it's manifesting in all this extra care and adoring. In another month, he'll settle down. Still your husband, still an angel, but not so touchy. 

Or maybe he'll stay like this. It's been three weeks now and he shows no signs of stopping, if anything he's getting more and more affectionate every day. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders from behind last night while he was sitting at the kitchen table, expecting him to kiss your cheek and gently nudge you away, but he'd covered your arms and held them, kissing a tender line from the crook of your arm to your shoulder. When he spoke it was with a warm, almost husky cadence. Hello, you.

He's staring at you. "What are you thinking about?" he asks. 

"Nothing." He raises his eyebrows at you. "Nothing, just wondering what to make for dinner," you say. 

His hand finds your wrist, pulling you toward him. "What don't you understand about sitting down? I can make dinner." 

"You've worked all day," you protest. 

"What have you been doing?" Miguel pulls your hand to his chest. "What, am I a bad cook?" 

"I'm always asking you to cook," you say. 

Miguel kisses your knuckles where they rest against his collar, rubbing them with enough tenderness to have you reeling. He must see something in your face, because the lovey-dovey softness in his own expression melds to hesitation.

"Is something wrong?" he asks. 

When he looks at you like that, you can't lie to him. "No. It's not that something is wrong, exactly, but… you're being so nice to me." 

Distress or something similar flashes in his eyes, so quickly you think you might have imagined it. 

"I'm not usually like this," he says carefully. 

You're expecting him to be offended by what you aren't saying. You've had similar fights before. I don't have time for this, cariño. 

You shake your head vehemently before he can get the wrong idea, but he isn't mad. His hands are soft as he grasps your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing quarter circles as soon as they touch down. Your surprise is obvious. 

"Do you wish I was nicer?" he asks. 

"You're plenty nice, my love, really. That's not what I meant." 

"No, but humour me." 

You grab his elbow. "It's not about being nicer. I just… I know I can be a bit much for you, and I know what happened was scary and confusing, and now you're back safe, you– you don't have to do all of this. Not if you don't want to." 

He's classically handsome and has been since the day you met, but there's something to be said about how love changes his features. How affection for you softens his strong jaw, his thick eyebrows inching up his forehead just so. 

"I don't want you to be nicer," you say quietly, looking down at his chest. "But this has been nice. I finally feel like–" 

You stop short as Miguel takes your face into his hand. His thumb along your jaw, he tilts your head up straight. 

"What?" 

"I was worried maybe I was getting to be too much for you," you say. "But not lately. I'm sorry." 

The look he gives you is peculiar. He looks sorry, which is both unexpected and not, and he looks glad. Like you've told him something he wants to hear. 

Light from the frosted bathroom window catches his eyes, has brown turning to liquid honey, his lashes a neat hedging that grows fainter in the sun. They lower as his gaze falls to your mouth. 

"Can I…" he trails off.

He shakes his head gently and leans in, pausing a half a centimetre from your lips. You lean in to meet him. 

He kisses you as though there's nowhere in the world he needs to be besides here. He's been so many things since he got home that day, hesitant and hungry, undecided and undulating in his touches. Even late at night, with a hand on his abdomen and your face hovering over his, it was almost like your enthusiasm surprised him. 

And now he's realised that you're surprised in turn.

"If I ever gave you the impression," he says, breaking the kiss suddenly like he can't not say what he's thinking, "if you ever for a moment thought that I didn't want too much, I'm sorry. I was an idiot."  

"It's not like that," you insist.

"I've been different, I know that. Tell me if it's good or bad different." 

You wrap your arms around his neck, on tiptoes to hug him properly. He leans down again, taking the bulk of your weight in his arms like it's easy. Your heels lift off of the tile.

"Good different," you mumble into his shoulder. 

"Was that so hard?" he asks. 

His playfulness rears. You try to get out of his arms before he can start, but his hands dive for your sides. His tickling makes you laugh so loudly that Gabriella abandons the TV in her room and demands to be tickled too. 

—-

thank you for reading and sorry the formatting on this post is ugly but there’s no way for me to put a spoiler warning before an ask so I thought it was best to screenshot the ask and put it underneath one myself!

[d10nyx]

silver lining

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, hybrid!reader, very brief suicide mention, p in v, creampie, daddy kink, a LOT of pet names

a/n: hiii! throwing out some (kinda) fluffy smut for once lmao. mainly picturing vendetta leon, but any older leon works tbh. i'm so tired, so if you see typos, no, you don't >:[ hope you enjoy !!

word count: 1.7k words

Raccoon City was something that Leon would never forget. It's been years since the incident, and he still wakes up in a cold sweat some nights with nightmares of the things he'd seen.

It's fucked him up in more ways than one. He would have killed himself a long time ago if he was sure that Sherry would be safe. The “top secret programme” the government so lovingly initiated him into isn't the way he saw his life going - but if it kept her safe, he'd grit his teeth and bare it.

Sure, he's made his peace with it, but it doesn't make it any less difficult. He runs around like the government's personal lap dog and then comes home and drinks himself half to death. It's a routine he's gotten used to, and he doesn't plan on changing it anytime soon.

But it gets lonely. He's not a stranger to flirting with a pretty girl in the bar, but he never manages to get them to stay. He's not sure he's capable of forming a relationship anymore. Work always comes up, and no woman seems to want to stick around when he disappears for weeks or months at a time.

When he was younger, he always wanted a dog. That was another thing Raccoon City took from him. He still flinches when a dog moves too fast near him or gets too close. He's never been a cat person, either. Thinks they're grumpy bastards at the best of times.

He leaves it at that for a while. Looks like he's destined to be alone. Whatever. He's used to it by now. Or he thinks so, at least, until he starts to hear about hybrids becoming more commercially available as pets.

They've been around for a while, sure, but they were the type of exotic pet rich assholes buy to show off. He hears about the new hybrid adoption center opening in his city and spends one of his only weekends off doing a shit ton of research. He's not entirely convinced, but he figures there's no harm in taking a look. As soon as he spots you, he knows he's smitten. Bat your pretty lashes at him, and he'd do anything you asked.

You're the cutest little puppy girl he's ever seen. Fluffy ears atop your head, your tail wagging so fast behind you it's practically a blur. He doesn't even think about it when he calls a worker over, paying for you then and there. He doesn't even blink at the amount of money you cost him. He'd sell a kidney to be able to afford you if he needed it. At least the government pays well.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It's been a few months since he brought you home with him. You were a pain in the ass at first, constantly bouncing around his apartment. Your tail was a hazard, always knocking things off his table and breaking things.

He wouldn't change it for the world, though. You've become the highlight of his day. He finds himself smiling as he opens the door to his apartment, hearing you thunder towards the front door as he walks in. He can't help but chuckle as you wrap your arms around his waist, leaning up to lick at his face.

“Alright. Easy, girl. Easy.” He says with a smile, pushing you off him and ruffling your hair as he steps past you. He shrugs off his jacket, hanging it up and settling on the couch. “I had a long day, y'know? Could at least let me through the door before you jump all over me.”

“But I missed you.” You whine as he pushes you away from him, following him closely as he moves to sit on the couch.

“Yeah, yeah. I missed you, too, pup.” Leon says with a grin, patting his lap. He waits for you to jump in his lap, leaning back comfortably. “C'mere, then. Don't you wanna come sit with daddy?”

Your tail wags lazily behind you as you shift closer, straddling his lap happily. His hands settle on your waist to tug you closer, and he rubs small circles into you with his thumb.

“Missed you.” You repeat softly, cuddling close to him.

“You’re a sweet girl.” He nuzzles his nose into your head and caresses your hair. “A good girl…” 

Leon hums quietly and his hand starts to wander along your side and up towards your chest. “And beautiful, too. Can't believe I got so lucky, baby.”

You giggle softly at that, tail wagging just a little bit faster as you press your chest into his hand, shivering as his thumb brushes your sensitive nipple over your shirt.

“D'you wanna play with me, daddy?” You ask softly, trying to press as close to him as possible. Your hips start moving on their own, rutting your aching pussy against the hard muscle of his thigh. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling his scent deeply. He always smells so good when he gets back from work, sweat clinging to his skin. 

“I just got back, baby. What's got you so worked up, huh?” He teases softly, grabbing your hips and adjusting them so you're grinding down onto his steadily hardening cock over his pants instead. He groans softly, reaching around to pet the base of your sensitive tail.

That gets a twitch and a whine from you, making the corner of his mouth tug up into a lazy smile. He rocks his hips up into you until he's fully hard and leaking.

“Alright, alright. C'mon, puppy. Let's get you to bed.” He grunts, trying to act like he isn't as desperate as you. His voice is low and gravelly, brows furrowed in concentration as he lifts you up, carrying you to the bedroom.

He plops you down on the bed, kicking his shoes off and pulling off his jacket. His hands roam your body, tugging off your clothes as he runs his palms along your curves. His eyes take you I'm greedily, his hands working to undress himself instantly.

“Fuck.” He groans as you shift on your hands and knees, ass up in the air as soon as you see his cock. His cock twitches, pre-cum leaking and staining his stomach. “Always so eager…”

All he gets is a whine and an ass wiggle in response. You lift your tail straight up, presenting your glistening pussy for his hungry eyes. “Daddy, please…”

“Yeah, yeah. I got you.” He murmurs, settling between your legs. He runs the pads of two fingers between your glistening folds, dragging them from your clit to your entrance, gathering the slick dripping from you before pushing them inside.

He thrusts them in and out a few times, letting you get used to the intrusion. Not that you need it - your pussy is always so drippy, sucking him in greedily every chance it gets. He curls his fingers, earning a low moan from you, your cute ears pressing firmly against your head.

“That's it.” He coos, repeating the action every time his fingers are half buried inside of you. “There's my good girl. You want my cock, don't you, sweet thing?”

All you can manage is to babble please repeatedly, already so desperate for him. He's not sure how he ever managed without you. You always make him feel so wanted, and not just when he's buried balls deep inside of you. It's nice. Makes an unfamiliar warmth build in his chest, something he hasn't felt since he was still a bright-eyed kid in the police academy.

“Don't worry, baby, I got what you need.” He says softly, pulling his fingers out of you and rubbing your juices onto the sheets before grabbing your hips. His breath hitches as he slides his length into your tight heat, his head tilting back in pleasure before he lets out a low moan.

He leans over you, pressing some of his weight against you as he starts to thrust slow and deep. He presses his lips to the back of your neck before leaning back, his thrusts picking up in pace.

“Such a pretty puppy.” He groans, gripping your tail to pull you back against him every time he fucks into you. The room is filled with your needy moans and the sounds of your sloppy pussy.

“Daddy…” you whine, drool spilling past your lips and onto the pillow your face is smashed against. He can feel you tightening around him, so he knows you're close. He adjusts his angle slightly so he rubs up against that sweet spot that makes you see stars every time he pushes in.

“C'mon, cum for me, pretty girl.” He grunts, hand tightening on your tail as the other slides up from your hip to your waist, giving him more leverage ti rock you back onto his cock.

“Fuck, daddy… cummin’!” You moan, your walls clenching so tight around him you almost push him out. He presses his hips against your ass and thrusts shallowly, keeping him buried deep inside of you as his tip grinds against your cervix.

His mouth hangs open as he feels you gushing all over him, his breath caught in his throat as his cock jumps and kicks against your cervix, the feeling of your pussy fluttering around him making him shoot ropes of his cum deep inside of you.

You whine softly again, slumping against the crumpled sheets. His breathing is slightly heavy as he drops his weight on you, pressing you against the bed.

You grunt at the feeling of him dropping on top of you, wriggling yourself free with a soft huff. You cuddle up to him after, ignoring the feeling of his cum leaking down your thighs. You give him a few locks to his stubble cheeks before cuddling up to him with a smile.

“Sleepy.” You huff softly, nuzzling into his neck with a content sigh, your eyes fluttering shut. He lazily wraps an arm around you, tugging you closer to him and petting your back.

“I bet. C'mon, baby. Think we deserve a nap.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead before letting his eyes shut, too.

[pedroshotwifey]

To the Flame Chapter 1

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Chapter tags/warnings: not much yet, age gap, fluff, reader being horny (c'mon y'all it's me what do you expect), Javier being gorgeous, erotic novels honorable mention, mentions of cheating, stuff I'm probably forgetting

Chapter summary: You meet a beautiful stranger at the farmer's market. Is he what you need to get back on your feet?

A/N: Hey, y'all!! I'm so very excited about starting this series! I have so many plans, and I can't wait to share them with you! Please keep in mind that this story will get darker the more it progresses. Thank you for reading!

***

You’ve been back in your hometown for about three months now. Three miserable and exhausting months. 

You’ve been working on the family farm four days a week, ten hours a day, every week since you got back. You figure it wouldn’t be so bad if you got to have the other three days off, but no. Those days are spent at the local farmer’s market, sitting in a stiff plastic chair in the sticky Texan heat. 

It doesn’t even matter that you wear a tank top and shorts to the market, you feel like you’re going to melt every damn time you have to go. The same goes for working on the farm, only you’re less fortunate in that situation. You know it’s smarter to wear jeans out there, so most of the time you do.

You’re trying to be grateful to your parents, you really are. They just make it so damn hard sometimes. Sure, they gave you a job when you needed one, but they never stop talking about how they were right. And they were, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. 

Your mom and dad never approved of your boyfriend, and had told you as much. You chose to ignore that fact considering they said that about every boyfriend you ever had. How the hell were you supposed to know if they were actually concerned, or if they just didn’t want you to date?

They had warned you about him. Told you that he wasn’t genuine, that you need to be careful. They told you the same about your so-called “best friend”, who was the person you found your boyfriend balls deep inside of three months ago.

But, of course, despite their protest, you had moved out with him anyway. Spent your savings on renting an apartment that he put practically nothing into. In retrospect, you really should have known; there were so many signs. You were just too damn stubborn to see them. You never would have guessed that he would go as far as to cheat on you.

Your own poor choices are what ultimately landed you back here, getting out of your dad’s old truck to unload a creaky table to set up the stand at the farmer’s market. Again. You roll your eyes and pop your earbuds in, putting on your favorite playlist. 

You open the back of the truck and start to drag the plastic table out. It slides across the bed effortlessly thanks to the morning dew it’s been sitting out in. Unfortunately, that detail is another pain in the ass more than anything, because you end up getting half-soaked as you haul it into the giant tent that makes up the market.

You get it set up in an empty booth, smacking the rusted hinges to get it to stand without risk of collapse. After you lean on it to make sure it won’t fall, you return to the truck to start the endless trips of carrying produce to the stand. You usually make your younger sister help you with this part since she often tags along, but, being a senior in highschool, she couldn’t make it today. 

Once you have everything put together and displayed on various shelves, you take a seat in the foldable chair you had brought with you. You expect it will be a slow day, as Mondays usually are, so you brought a book to pass the time. 

You rarely sell anything on weekdays, you have no idea why your parents are so adamant about you coming all the way out here every monday since you got here. Maybe it’s just to get you out of the house—you wouldn’t put it past them.

You take one more look around the market to make sure there’s nobody approaching your stand before you open your book to the first page. It’s a newer, trashy romance. It’s a little embarrassing, sure, but you like what you like. 

Sometimes you swear your love life is awful or boring enough for you to actually wish to be in the place of the girls in your books. At least the fictional men seem genuine. Less likely to cheat on you with your best friend, you think bitterly. 

Less likely to manipulate into moving into an expensive apartment without helping, Less likely to treat you like shit. Plus, you probably wouldn’t mind the fact that they all seem to be absolute hunks and amazing in bed.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles you from your spiraling thoughts, your cheeks reddening once you realize you have been staring blankly at the same page for a good few minutes. 

You have to steady yourself so you don’t drop your book on the dirt below you, which has you almost falling out of your chair in the process. 

You glance up at the stranger as you situate yourself, which doesn’t do much to help. The man is drop-dead fucking gorgeous. He’s staring down at you, clearly amused. His full lips are tugged up into a half-smirk. You think for a second that he looks familiar, but you would for sure remember seeing a man like this.

His hair is dark, a bit long and shaggy, but in the way that makes you want to run your fingers through it. He wears sunglasses, you notice with disappointment. You don’t know why you have such a strong urge to see what’s hidden under there. You’re guessing they’re brown. He seems to carry a kind aura, it’s a fitting idea that his eyes would be warm.

Even though you sense such a kindness emanating from him, there’s an annoying nagging from the back of your head that makes you uneasy. His stare is almost imposing, the way he carries himself adding so much to the effect. Your stomach bunches up in a frustrating way that signifies both anxiety and lust. You don’t really care much to figure out which is dominant at the moment. 

All you know is that you’re drawn to this man like a moth to a flame, and that after all you’ve been through, you deserve to admire him at the very least. It’s not often you come across such a good looking man. A fictional looking man. 

He cocks his head after you stare for what could probably be considered a second too long. Your face must be about the shade of a tomato at this point. The weight of an object in your hand quickly reminds you of the task at hand. 

This is a potential customer. You need to stop staring like a schoolgirl. Besides, he must be what… ten, fifteen years older than you? God, you can’t even tell. He looks mature, but somehow ageless at the same time. He has strong, masculine features, but a sort of boyish quality, too. If someone told you he was some kind of a god himself, you would have no trouble believing them.

“I-I’m so sorry, let me just put this down,” you say to the god, trying not to stumble over your own words after getting caught ogling. 

“No problem at all, sweetheart,” he says, clearly unbothered. Fuck, his voice. It’s deep and rich, and he has some sort of accent,  like he grew up speaking another language. Spanish? Probably spanish. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Down, girl.

You take a breath in through your nose, willing yourself to relax as you set your book down on the table in front of you. You resist the urge to shut your eyes out of embarrassment as he looks down at the erotic cover, and then back at you with an arched brow and an amused smile. You move quickly as you snatch the book back to flip it back-side-up.

“What can I get for you, sir?” you quietly attempt to move on from that interaction, trying to reign in some of your composure. He’s standing with one hand on his hip, which is jutted out just slightly. He licks his plush lips and stands up mostly straight before he speaks. He pulls a piece of paper out of his snug back pocket and starts to read off of it. 

Your face keeps a nice flush as he reads off of his list. Your core throbs every now and again as he talks, making it a bit hard for you to concentrate, but you’re pretty sure you got everything. 

You nod at him to let him know as much before you get up to collect everything. Who knows if your voice even works right now. You do your best to ignore the weight of his stare on your back as you move around.

“Haven’t seen you around before,” he says, obviously wanting to start a conversation. “You been here long?”

“No, not really,” you say, trying to level your voice as you place produce into bags. “Well, kind of. I grew up here but I moved away a few years ago. Only been back for a couple months now. I’m staying to help my parents for a bit before I can get back onto my feet,” you finish as you secure the last bag. 

You look up as you place the goods on the table, this time meeting the man’s uncovered eyes. Brown and expressive, just as you imagined. You smile absentmindedly, and he mirrors your action, making your stomach twist once again. What a fucking smile. 

“Well, welcome back, then,” he says. “I’m Javier. Prefer it if you would call me Javi, though.” 

“Javi it is,” you say, liking the feel of his name on your tongue. You tell him your name and he nods. 

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” 

Fuck this man, he has to know what he’s doing. 

“Thank you,” you say, trying to control the pitch of your voice. 

He watches you as you place his bags on the table in front of you, now full of his requested items. As you catch his gaze, everything around you seems to fade to black. No sounds, no movement. All you can focus on is the sudden electric current that is born between the two of you. 

A nervous flutter starts in your stomach, but you just can’t bring yourself to look away, as if the attraction would be broken and gone forever if you did. The two of you hold eye contact for what could be a minute or ten before someone walks past your stand, drawing your attention back to reality.

You both let out a breath you’ve been holding, yours probably more shaky than his. You shake your head and start to add up his total after wiping your sweaty palms on your shorts. He stands back on his heels, his hands shoved into his pockets as he watches you work.

It only takes a moment. You tell him his total and he slides his wallet out, handing you the exact cash. You both thank each other at the same time, making you giggle. He smiles wider at the sound. 

“You’ve got a nice laugh, sweetheart,” he complements warmly. 

“Thank you. I made it myself,” you joke. Javi chuckles to himself, almost like he’s surprised to hear you make a joke. “Sorry,” you say, laughter in your own voice. “That was kind of lame.” 

“No, that was pretty clever, actually,” he says through his smile. 

You let yourself get one more good look as you reciprocate the gesture, fully expecting him to part ways. He doesn’t though, instead he asks you the one question you had hoped that nobody would ask you. 

“What brought you back here?” 

Your smile drops slightly and you consider lying to him, telling him that your parents wanted your help and that’s all. You know you can’t, though. There’s no point in trying to hide the truth. Nothing stays hidden in this small town. 

So you don’t. You sum up every stupid, unfair thing that made you return home. There’s a flash of sympathy in his gaze that makes you want to shut up, but some sick part of you craves that sympathy at the same time. 

It only takes you a couple minutes to have everything out, but he stays quiet and patient the entire time. Never interrupting you once and nodding along at all the right parts to let you know he’s listening. 

You haven’t felt this seen in a long time, It feels good. It makes you want to wrap yourself up in this total stranger’s arms and beg him to hold you. Fuck, now you’re picturing that. You need to not picture that. Luckily you don’t have much of a chance to, because he’s responding to you only a few seconds after you finish. 

“Well, that’s a damn shame. Fuckin’ boys don’t even know how to treat a sweet girl anymore.” Javi says, making you blush once again. 

The attention he gives you feels the same as jumping into a cool pool after being in the sun all day. It’s unbelievably refreshing to hear something like that instead of the usual scolding and ‘I told you so’s.  

He seems to put thought into what comes out of his mouth, and it genuinely makes you feel like he cares. Like he wants to make sure you hear what you deserve to hear.

“What makes you so sure I’m sweet?” you ask playfully, trying to change the topic to ignore the craving for more kind words. Might as well flirt a little while you’re at it, you figure. What can it hurt?

“Just a hunch,” he says, his tone the same as yours as his smile crinkled eyes bore into yours. You nod a little, your adoring smile never wavering.

 You both notice the small line of people beginning to form behind Javi at the same time. He almost looks disappointed at the sight, like he doesn’t want to leave just yet. 

“Just one second, honey,” he says, digging the scrap of paper from before out of his pocket again. Once he has that laid against the table in front of him, he supplies a pen from the front pocket of his shirt. He uses it to scribble something down onto the paper. 

You crane your neck slightly to try to catch a peak, but you can’t tell with how fast he’s writing. When he’s done, he folds it once, slides it your way, and gives a singular nod. 

“See you around, sweetheart,” he says as he starts to leave. 

“Yeah. See you,” you mumble under your breath as you watch him stride away, bags of produce in hand.

A woman walks up to the table, and you quickly turn to her. 

“So sorry about that. How can I help you?” you ask quickly, eyeing the paper Javi left behind.

It only takes you a little while to get everyone who was in line checked out, but it feels like it could have been hours. As soon as the last customer starts to walk away, your hands are on the note, shakily unfolding it to reveal Javi’s (suitably) scratchy handwriting. 

You see what you can only assume to be his phone number, and above it, there’s a note. 

“I would love to see you again, sweet girl. Give me a call?” 

Your heart flutters as you bite your lip and read the note over again. There’s no way you’re not taking up that offer. 

***

Thank you so much for reading!! I would absolutely love any kind of feedback so I know where everyone's at on this!! I have a tag list open for this series if anybody would like to join <3

Series taglist: @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @survivingandenduring @kewwrites (pls lmk if these tags worked!)

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Never Quite Enough

Part 5

Billy Russo x Reader

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Warnings: Angst, insomnia, more angst.

"Can I confess something to you?" Matt asks.

You look up from your phone in surprise, blinking like a deer caught in headlights. He's dressed in his crisp white shirt and suit pants, his jacket somewhere nearby. 

He looks pristine, but you know you prefer his undressed look even more, the sight of his bare chest was a soothing balm on the open wound that was your life.

You wait patiently for his words.

"I think... he really likes you. Genuinely." 

You let out a long sigh. 

"That sounds like his problem. I am done with him." You say quickly, on a harsh breath.

"Are you?" He challenges, with a calm tone.

You swallow, honestly, you didn't know.

It's been weeks. Nearly a month and a half since you broke up with him, the same amount of time you'd been together. 

Why was climbing out harder than falling in?

Something tugs in your chest, you let out a soft breath. You feel bad for letting one person comfort you for another person's actions.

"Matt." You say his name slowly, looking up at him, the space of his countertop between you.

You swallow.

"I'm sorry." You finally say.

"What for?"

"If I've- lead you on, or made you feel uncomfortable- please just tell me. I'd rather you tell me you're tired of me, than being forced to tolerate me."

He lets out a harsh breath, moves around the counter swiftly.

Before you can process it, your face is buried in his clothed chest.

He smells like the gentle lavender soap he uses, and you're too stunned to do anything other than breathe it in.

"You're not leading me on. I promise, and I'm not just tolerating you. I like you."

A little sob hiccups from your throat, the strength of his adoration pours into you, fills, overflows.

"I've been tolerated my whole life." You say into his chest, tears falling freely, "The first time I felt like I could exist was with him, and even that had been a lie." You grip the back of his shirt, sobbing into his chest.

He shushes you softly, his stubbled cheek pressed to the crown of your head.

His body tightens around you, it makes you feel worse, like you're forcing him to comfort you in some way. You cry harder.

Matt holds you through it, and when your violent shaking turns into little hiccups, he leans down to kiss your forehead, his thumb swiping at one cheek, to push your tears away.

"He's hurt you so badly, and It's up to you to decide whether that damage can be fixed or not. But you need to know that you're not tolerated, you're appreciated. By me...and by him."

"How do you know?" You protest, looking into his unfocused eyes.

"I heard him say it. To his friend, Frank, that day at the gala. I heard him tell Frank that he loves you."

You blink, drawing your head back in shock.

Love?

You sniffle, Matt's words have knocked the sadness right out of you, replacing it with surprise.

 You reach for a tissue sitting on the countertop.

"That can't be right." You hum, wiping at your nose, and dabbing at your cheeks. You'd have to re-do today's makeup before work.

"His actions were awful, and the things he did do not deserve forgiveness. But his feelings now are genuine." Matt says.

Now?

Your shoulders drop.

They hadn't been genuine before?

When he'd offered you one of his shirts to sleep in, on the very first night you'd slept over, the hidden eager look in his eyes... that had been fake?

Of course it was, your mind supplies, you feel like you're sinking lower with each thought.

Like a full tub being emptied, you feel the emotion drain right out of you.

You spend a solid moment like that, in disbelief at the emotion just leaving you, rejecting Matt’s last words without another second of consideration.

You part your lips, finally sucking in a deep breath that doesn’t hurt.

Your mouth parts wider in relief. 

For the first time, you feel true nothingness, and not the numbness of the refusal to process emotion that you were used to.

It's liberating, you close your eyes in bliss.

Somehow, you'd managed to turn your turbulent emotions off.

Like a switch, flipping inside you, centred around your confused feelings. Your brain doesn't know how to feel, so it stops feeling.

You know Matt wasn't the type of man to lie to you, it wasn't even in his nature to stretch the truth. He was a man that could only speak fact, and something said with this much surety could only be true.

But that didn’t mean you were capable of accepting his words. Instead you smile at him, wiping at your tears.

“I should get to work.” You respond, looking up at him with a small smile on your face.

.

The world around you is interesting, when you can’t feel a thing. Nothing matters, at all.

You smile at Dex easily, engaging him in conversation, a past version of you would probably be feeling absolutely hollow inside. Instead, you simply exist, only answering questions when you’re asked, smiling along to small talk.

There’s no sadness, or despair, or hate for yourself.

There’s nothing.

And nothing had to be better than everything all at once...right?

It’s peaceful now, your work gets done much faster, headphones on to help you focus, you feel like pushing yourself to see how much you’re capable of, only stopping for a few short breaks throughout the day.

It feels good, getting things done ahead of time, it makes you feel like you’re being efficient  in a space you’ve only felt desolation for a long while.

You only realise how late it is when the night cleaning crew shows up.

Only then you decide to amble on home, a bowl of ramen in your arms, tucked into your couch in the dark of the night before bed.

You don’t see Matt that night, probably busy at his own job, and you’re okay with that, knowing that you shouldn’t be using him as any type of emotional crutch in the first place.

The problem comes when you try to go to sleep.

You find that you can’t, you don’t feel sleepy. 

You toss and you turn and you sit up and you have tea and press the heels of your hands against your eyes and struggle with being awake when you should be asleep.

You have nothing to help you sleep, so you curl up in bed and close your eyes and pretend that you’re asleep until morning when your alarm goes off for work.

Silence and nothingness are your associates now, and however inconvenient, you prefer it to whatever was there before.

He loves you, your mind tries to interject during your morning routine, and you stop comically while brushing your teeth to stare dead ahead at yourself in the mirror.

Love… I barely know what that is, you answer.

You resume brushing your teeth.

You’re acutely aware that at some point, you’re probably going to crash. People aren’t made to be awake for long periods of time and feel this fine about it.

Being at work is pretty okay, and you don’t feel like ripping your hair out at the first inconvenience. 

It’s your second day of working late, and you’re dealing with it well. You’ve put your phone on do not disturb and with your headphones in, you’re lost in your own world of report reading and analysis.

Really, you should have known that letting your guard drop would tempt fate too much. The fickle way life tended to work around you should have had your walls up permanently.

But in your exhausted state, leaning against the wall gripping your bag with one hand while waiting for the elevator, it was hard to keep any sort of defense up.

So when someone says your name in mild surprise, the only response you can give is a raise of your head.

He looks as exhausted as you feel, and you wonder if he sees something similar in you. His jacket folded neatly over one arm, phone in his palm.

“Hey Mister Russo.” You say softly in greeting, straightening to take a step into the elevator.

He doesn’t say anything for a second as the doors close.

“It’s late.” He comments, and you turn your head to glance at him.

“Yes it is.” You agree, unable to stay steady on your feet, you lean against the wall of the elevator too.

“You look tired.”

You let out a slow breath.

“I’ll live.” You answer.

“We should talk.”

You groan, tilting your head back.

“You’re making me wish I’d taken another elevator.” 

“Let me drive you home.” He answers as if you hadn’t just expressed your distaste for him.

You raise your head to look at him angrily.

There were so many things you wanted to say. Leave me alone. Take a hike. I don’t want to talk to you. I’d rather chew nails that get into a car with you. Why are you looking at me like that? Do you love me?

In the end, you say nothing, and the doors to the elevators slide open, and you step out without even a goodbye.

The lobby is quiet, dimly lit, very much somber and lacking the life that there usually is during the daylight.

You only get a few steps out of the elevator before he’s blocking your path with his tall frame.

You huff, looking up at him, willing him to go away.

“Can we please talk? Please?”

You were so irritated with having to experience him and his constant persistence of you. You blink, angrily clenching your teeth together.

“Why? Why should I even give you a chance, Billy? So you can lie to me more? Hurt me more? What’s it going to take for you to realise that we’re over?”

He lets out a sharp breath.

“We have something. You know we do. There’s a voice inside you that tells you we’re right for each other. I hear it too.”

“You’re wrong,” You answer softly, “There’s no voice.”

He shakes his head.

“Don’t lie, don’t act like-” He cuts off, letting out a slow breath.

“Like what?” You prod.

“-Like you don’t care!” He hisses, “Stop acting like this was nothing.” He says, gesturing to the space between you.

“This was nothing.” You clarify.

He looks frustrated, all you can do is observe him with a casual tilt of your head.

“What you did was unforgivable. What could you possibly want from me now?” You follow up, after he’s unable to speak.

“Another chance.” He utters.

You raise your eyebrows.

“To do what?” You felt like you had to break this down for him like a child.

“To prove to you that my feelings were real,” He takes a step forward, getting closer to you and forcing you to tilt your head up to keep looking at him.

“To show you that I think you’re the best person on the planet. That we have something,” Billy’s hands raise to cup your face, his eyes dark, a void pulling you in, “worth fighting for.”

He leans in, and it only just registers in your tired brain that he’s going to kiss you.

“I have a boyfriend.” You whisper out in a rush in an effort to deter him.

His only response is a small smile.

“Break up with him.” he answers simply as his mouth meets your in a soft kiss.

It melts you, like it usually does. His bearded face creating tingles as it scratches against yours and for a moment you feel so whole.

And then you’re pushing him away, because you don’t deserve this, because you are not someone you believe is worth fighting for.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur, unable to meet his eyes, “I just don’t believe in us the way you do.” You step to the side, and dodge his hand when he tries to grab your wrist.

He calls your name behind you as you leave, the sound is soft, pleading.

You don’t look back.

.

When he touches his lips, he can still feel you there.

Like you own his mouth, and now every kiss is yours, and every smile is for you.

He needs you, so badly that it hurts him.

There’s also a sober part of him that wishes he had the capacity to leave you alone, let you heal from him, leave him behind and move on with your life. But the selfish part of him, the part that fought for scraps in a house of too many people, that part of him clings to the love he has. 

In many ways he’s still a child, he acknowledges, always quietly hoping that someone could want him, listen to him, talk to him about every useless topic on the planet.

He’d found that in you. Someone to listen to him, not just give a vacant smile when he spoke, or roll their eyes, exhausted at his small, unpracticed attempts at conversation. 

He loved the little niche tidbits of information you knew, he was always learning something exciting, or something that made you light up when you spoke.

And then he’d- done that.

The little boy that never had anything, sabotaging his one chance at love because somewhere deep down inside, he didn’t know if he was really capable of it. Maybe he wasn’t. He’d never had it aimed in his direction really.

Who had loved him? Ever in his life? 

Frank was the closest thing he had to a brother, Billy had no doubt that the Castles loved him. 

And it was good, but it wasn’t enough. 

Now more than ever he knew that, lying awake, fingers pressed to his mouth where he could still feel the softness of your lips. He knew what being enough to someone had felt like.

He knew he’d do anything to have that again.

.

You can’t sleep at all.

It’s way worse than before.

Things had been okay when you couldn’t feel anything, but one kiss had brought it all back. Now, you were just sad all over again. 

Each time you kissed him, pulled you together, and each time you left him behind, you shattered even more.

Like glass that had been broken once, being hammered into splinters. You didn’t know how much of yourself had been damaged, beyond hope of repair already.

And yet still, you couldn’t forget him.

The soft heat of his touch, the sound of his breaths. You spend the entire night thinking about him, and wishing you could think about something, anything else.

.

There’s a box waiting on your desk when you get in the next morning.

It fits in your palm, wrapped in blue floral gift paper with a black bow on top. It screams Billy.

“That from Matt?” Dex asks, as he’s walking by and observes your handling of the gift.

“Probably.” You lie, tugging at the bow.

“Hope it’s something nice.” He wishes as he steps away, going back to whatever he was doing.

His wrapping is precise, no fold is haphazard, the bow sits right in the middle, perfectly equidistant from all edges.

It pulls a smile to your face. You almost don’t want to open it, the effort put into wrapping is a gift in itself.

You doubt Billy had given many gifts in his life- or even gotten them. He’d only mentioned it once that he didn’t have parents, and that he grew up in the system. You’d wanted to ask about it, but you’d never gotten a real chance.

You wanted to know how many gifts he'd gotten, how many happy birthdays.

You shouldn't care, it shouldn't matter to you, but it did.

You take the wrapping off carefully, wanting to preserve every bit of this, something that could be remembered later, savoured when you needed something to think of in the darkness of the night.

You tug the lid off the box quickly, eyes locking onto the shimmering gold in the box.

Your mouth parts in surprise.

It’s a simple present, butterfly hair clips in a gold colour. Each wing of the shiny butterfly is attached to the clip with a few small springs, it means that every slight movement makes the wings appear as though they’re fluttering.

All of a sudden, you’re a little girl again, staring at similar clips in someone else’s hair. You gulp, looking around for a note, an explanation as to why.

You’d only asked your parents once for them, and then never again.

His note is lodged beneath the lid of the box, and you take your time prying it out, opening it.

‘Saw these and thought of you.

-Billy

x.'

You blink back tears, looking at the delicate clips once more.

You don’t take them out of the box, despite how badly you want to. You settle for just running a careful finger over the fluttering wings, a quiet appreciation of something you’d forgotten you wanted.

The clips are so shiny that they were bound to catch attention, which was the last thing you wanted here. Maybe later, after everyone was gone, you could indulge yourself in trying them on.

It was a brilliant gift, something small and seemingly unimportant, and yet, an item that he hadn’t known you’d desired from the moment you first saw them.

Warm, something trickling into the very depths of you, a feeling you want, a feeling you yearn for. 

You reach for your phone, with calling him in mind, his extension seared to your memory and you just want to talk to him-

You slam the phone down just as fast. A few coworkers looking over at you in your peripherals.

Dread spills over inside of you, a paralysing fear that you were playing directly into his game, that this was a ploy, or even if it wasn’t, you couldn’t just go back to normal with him. He’d done something unforgivable, and you had to be rigid in your inability to absolve him of his actions.

He’d made a bet, with his friends, to see if he was capable of being in an exhausting relationship with you, because everyone thinks that you were annoying.

Because he thought that you were annoying.

You tuck his gift into the top drawer of your desk, letting the pain of his betrayal reorient you.

Billy Russo did not like you.

.

“Shit.” You curse, glancing at the time on your phone. You’d been so zoned into your computer that you hadn’t even noticed that the work day had been officially over for a while now. 

You sigh, leaning back, opening your top drawer to grab a page marker for the document you just sent to print. 

You spot the little gift box tucked into the back of the drawer and you can’t help the smile that pulls onto your face.

You drop everything you’re doing, reaching for the box happily. 

You take your time, pinning one clip to either side of your head to pull some of your hair back, opening your front camera to admire the little fluttering clips.

You loved the little things, delicate in your hair, glittering with the movement and the lights and you make a mental note to avoid the possibility of getting it tangled in your hair as best as possible.

You get distracted by the sound of the printer beeping in the distance to signal your print was completed and you get up to grab the file. 

A few hours later, you hear the elevator nearby make a small sound as it stops on your floor. You look up, alert and the awareness of how late it is makes you a little scared.

It’s him that rounds the corner, crisp suit, his jacket tucked under his arm. He pauses when he notices you, your eyes meeting, before a little smile pulls onto his face.

“I figured you’d be here.” He hums, approaching you.

You huff, glancing back at your computer screen.

“You just can’t seem to leave me alone, can you?” You bite back.

When he’s quiet for too long, standing beside you, you turn to look up at him.

There’s a strange expression on his face, something that washes the coldness inside of you away with gentle warmth.

“What?” You ask, trying to keep your voice harsh.

Why are you looking at me like that?

“You’re real fuckin’ pretty.” He answers.

You make a sound of annoyance, turning back to your computer to continue working on your excel sheet.

Do you love me?

Your fingers freeze on your keyboard when he kneels in your peripherals next to you.

What in God’s name was he doing?

You let out a harsh breath.

“Billy-”

His hand reaches to touch something in your hair, it’s only then you remember that you’re wearing the clips he gave you.

“-These look so much better on you than I’d imagined.” He whispers, turning a strand of your hair over between his fingers.

You look down, unable to meet his eyes.

“I’ve always wanted them, since I was little. My parents fought a lot, and I could never work up the courage to ask for them. Then, when I got older, I could never find them.” You glance up at him for a moment before looking away, “Thank you, I love them, but that doesn’t change anything between us.”

His eyebrows pull together sadly, a reflectiveness to his eyes that wasn’t there before.

Do you love me?

“You should go home, it’s late.”

You give him a tired smile.

“Yeah, I know, I just have a little bit more to do.”

“Do it tomorrow. You shouldn’t be here so late.”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining,” You mutter absentmindedly, “I’m making you money.”

He grips your chair, turning it quickly away from your computer until you face him.

You meet his gaze with an annoyed look of your own.

“I have enough money.” He answers with a teasing expression. The corner of your lip twitches in amusement.

“Whatever.” You say, trying to turn your chair back to your computer, but he only grips it tighter to keep you in place. His eyes dart to your desk, and then he reaches for something, grabbing it off your desk and moving away quickly.

When you look back at your desk you notice your wireless mouse is missing.

“Hey!” You stand, taking a few steps toward him. He mirrors your movement, taking a few steps back as well.

“Give that back, Russo.” You warn, approaching him again, this time he doesn’t move, encouraging you to try getting closer to him again.

When you’re within grabbing range, he grins, hiding his hands behind his back.

“Shut down your computer and go home.” He tries again.

“Or what?” You challenge, reaching around to grab at his hands. He shifts the mouse from his left to his right hand quickly, forcing you to get even closer to him, to try grabbing it.

“Or I throw this thing out the window and unplug your computer.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” You argue, gripping his fist in yours and trying to pry his fingers open.

He pulls his hand away from you easily, giving you an evil grin before raising his fist with your mouse above his head where you couldn’t possibly reach on your own.

You don’t even try to jump for it, only crossing your arms and looking up at him.

“I could knee you in the balls. I’d get it really quickly that way.” You threaten.

He tips his head back and laughs, and you find yourself smiling too. You take the chance, using the distraction to jump and grab his fist. 

But your attempt seemed to be exactly what he wanted because in the next moment his hand is on your waist, using your own momentum against you to spin you, switching positions so that he can press you against the wall that was just behind him.

You gasp, looking up at him in bewilderment. His scent floods your nose, reigniting an ache inside of you, one that yearned for him.

He watches you carefully, doesn’t do anything more than uncurl his fingers, so that you can get the mouse sitting in the palm of his hand.

You look at the mouse, and then back into his eyes, letting out a slow sigh, wishing for something you can’t quite put your finger on.

“Thank you.” You say, taking the mouse from him, and ducking under his arm to slip out from between his body and the wall. 

Sitting at your desk once again, you groan in annoyance as he grabs a chair from a nearby desk and sits himself near you.

“What now?” You ask, barely looking at him.

“I’m not leaving till you do.” He answers simply.

"For a CEO, you seem really bad at getting the message." You grunt out.

He sighs, leaning forward to prop his elbow onto your desk, and then after a moment, he rests his face in his hand, looking at you calmly.

"I'm sorry." He says softly.

"So I've heard." You answer, deciding to save your work before he actually unplug your computer.

"Have you been sleeping?" Billy asks on another soft breath.

"Yes." You lie.

"You haven't. It's why you're here so late. Because you go home, and you lie awake, staring at the ceiling." He says, and you get the feeling that he isn't only talking about you.

"Can you blame me?" You snipe, trying to focus on your screen so that you can pretend that this conversation isn't happening.

There's a long silence before he speaks again.

"I hate myself."

Your chest squeezes harshly, brain halting any thoughts of work. You stare at the computer screen, feeling pressure build behind your eyes.

You wipe an unsteady hand over your mouth for comfort.

"Yeah well, that makes both of us." You reply shakily.

"I've always kind of hated myself," he continues, and you peek a look over at him to find that he's shifted, his hands in his lap, bending a paperclip out of shape while he speaks, "Even when I was a kid, I told myself that there must be something very wrong with me for my mom to not want me."

You take a deep breath, listening to him, finally hearing him open up about himself for the first time.

"I almost got adopted once, interview with a family had gone well, they let me move in with them for a trial period. I almost had what I wanted most, and then-" He gives a shake of his head, to knock the memory loose and you want so badly to reach over and take his hand, to stop him from worrying the paperclip out of shape, only to try to reshape it again, "-I punched their son in the face for something so dumb I can barely remember it. They dropped me back the next morning without a goodbye."

You watch in your peripherals as he puts the paperclip back into shape, except it doesn't look quite right, a little misshapen after his touch.

"My therapist says I've always had a penchant for self sabotage. Always worried that something good will be taken away, so I ruin it, so that at least it's ruined on my terms." He grins, "What a nutjob."

"You? Or your therapist?" You ask.

He huffs out a surprised laugh, looking up at you for a second, watching you return his laugh with a wry smile of your own, before glancing away.

Do you love me, Billy Russo?

"Sorry. I don't mean to force your forgiveness with a shitty story of growing up in the system. I just- well- I was hoping it would help you… understand me a little more."

“Don’t apologize. I get it. We’re all just trying to heal from something.”

“What are you trying to heal from? Besides me?”

You turn away, unsure if you want to tell him, unsure if you can speak for so long without shutting down.

You rub your knuckles against your lips absentmindedly.

“It’s stupid.” You whisper.

“It’s not. I promise.”

You feel anxiety flutter in your stomach.

“I’ve always felt like I was too much. Too loud, too clingy, too unattractive. Like if I was just tolerated, everywhere I went. I made friends, and then after a while, they’d leave, without explanation and with the number of times it happened, I kept thinking to myself that it had to be my fault.”

You try to swallow the lump in your throat.

“It’s the only logical explanation, that I’m okay to befriend and talk to a little, but I’m not enough to maintain a friendship with. I’m not enough to be held on to.”

Why weren’t you enough?

You stop talking now, taking a deep breath and holding it to fight off your tears.

He reaches for your hand, and you let him, you can feel the paperclip pressed between your hands.

“I see how badly I fucked up now.” He says softly to you, “And I want you to know that every inch of you is worth fighting for, and I fully intend to show you that.”

You close your eyes, shaking your head with a sad smile.

“Billy-”

“-no buts, you’re about to see some of the most desperate grovelling of your life.”

You laugh in disbelief.

“You’re insane, Russo.”

“Yeah. Don’t tell my therapist.”

.

He wants to hold you so badly. Wrap his arms around you, and feel you lean against him.

In the elevator now, he keeps glancing at you, his eyes drawn to the little fluttering clips in your hair and his heart clenches so tightly in his chest that he swears it stops beating.

“Let me drive you home.” He offers, hoping that you’d let him, instead of taking a taxi at this hour of the night. 

He watches the clips flutter more as you shake your head, a smile pulling onto his face at how adorable you look.

“We’re not there yet, Russo.” You respond.

Yet? He thinks hopefully.

.

.

.

[v4mp-reads]

Hello. I hope you had a great Christmas and New Year. I would like to request a Rhea X Pregnant Reader where reader is due in 3 weeks ( and with Twin babygirls if possible) and is backstage watching The Judgement Day open the show before getting up and walking to get something to eat before getting confronted by Karrion Kross and Scarlett who end up scaring her and sending the reader into early labor. If you can't thats perfectly fine. Thanks and Have a Great Day

Twist and turns

Rhea Ripley x prego!fem! Reader

Tw: struggles with Ivf problems, many failed attempts at pregnancy! Early labor! Small pregnancy complications

word count: 1.3k

Y/n’s pov

I sit in the judgment day locker room alone to say, this is the first time in 9 months I’ve sat in here alone, but no one could sit in because they had a big promo they had to do. I hold my stomach feeling my baby’s move around, I’m so excited to meet them, they are going to be welcomed into such a lovely family. I thought as my mind drifted off to the years before. Me and Rhea got married when we where both 21, that was almost three years ago, this has been a very long possess, i sat up countless nights crying because we picked up yet another negative test, this whent on for about two years until the day i remember it like it was yesterday.

Flash back

Me and rhea sit in our bathroom floor, “darling..you know if this test comes back negative we will have to wait at least six months before starting all of this over” she looked up at me as we wait for the five minutes to past “dont think like that baby. I have a felling this time” i whispered softly, smiling at her, i move from the tolet to her on the floor as she holds me. “Beep! Beep! “ the alarm had whent off, rhea whent to grab the test off the counter when it falls off onto the floor, i glance down at it to see two lines, TWO LINES! I instantly began to cry tears of pure happyness “Rhea! Its postive! We are having a Baby!!” She jumps up picking me up and spinning me around kissing me like a million times, we where so happy, this was actually happening. We stayed in the bathroom for about half our just crying with happiness. Soon we walked back to our room and called the judgment day group chat. They knew today was the day I was supposed to take my test, and we called them every time even when it was negative, we tryed to hide the smile on our faces. Dom was the first to pick up, we waited for the others to join before saying anything. “Hey y/n hi rhea what’s it say?” Finn asked in a soft tone not wanting to hurt us anymore if it was negative. I couldn’t help but smile and that’s when damien caught on “oh my god!! Wait?!” He said loudly over the phone the other two boys looked so confused. “A little baby Ripley is on the way!” I yelled. They all cheered, dom even started crying with me, “oh my god I’m so happy!” I cryed into Rheas shoulder. It was the best day of my life.

End of flash back

In three weeks I get to meet my little girls, three weeks, every thing is planed perfectly, Rheas family is flying out in two weeks, Rhea and the rest of the judgment day are getting a month off in two weeks, I’m just so happy, all this excitement made me really hungry, and I was out of snacks in the locker room. I know I’m not supposed to leave the locker room that was everyone’s rule the second they found out, just because people would bother me to get at the others

I started to feel sick so I needed to get up and get some food, I got up putting on rheas hoodie before walking out of the locker room, no one was really out, so I made my way to the where I know they had food.

I must have made some turn the wrong way because now I find myself in some random hallways that’s kind of scary, I get this wave of anxiety come over me and I feel like I’m being followed so I continue to walk faster, eight almost nine months pregnant with twins, it isn’t easy to walk fast, I quickly realize that I have to turn around this hallways was a dead end. I turn around and instantly get met with karrian cross and his girlfriend or what not Scarlett, “um..” I say softly “miss little y/n Ripley, how are you and your little baby’s doing” karrian reached out to touch my stomach, I quickly stepped back “please don’t touch me” I said fear clearly in my voice “don’t tell me what to do Mrs. Ripley, I will touch you if I want!” He reached out once more this time I backed up and I ended up cornered, “please leave me alone, I don’t want any problems” I start to panic “please, please don’t hurt me or my baby’s, they are innocent, they are pure” I begged. I started feeling horrible pains in my stomach, and I panicked “Mhmm, I don’t know, I don’t know how innocent they are, saying how long it took you to get pregnant with them, what was it I heard? Two years?and you have struggled your whole pregnancy” Scarlett spoke, tears came rushing out from my eyes “please! Leave me alone!” I yell the pain in my stomach becoming almost unbearable. “Hey?!” I hear someone yell, “what the fuck leave her alone” I look up to see one of my close friends Sami zayn. That’s all I really before I passed out.

“Is she okay, are my girls okay?!” I hear yelling as I wake up to see a bright light in my eyes.. “R-rhea..?” I mumble out, instantly her head shoots over to beside my head, “oh my god, your okay, darling, what happed! Why where you in that hallways, why did you leave the lockeroom?” She questioned me, “are the girls okay?” I asked simply, “maam, you are in late stage, early labor, we are transferring you to the hospital, where you should be able to deliver with mild complications.” All I could feel was the pain, from what I was guessing was contractions, it made my head spin. Rhea held my hand as I cryed out in pain as we made our way to the hospital.

We soon made it to the hospital, where I had to be taken in for emergency cessation surgery, i remember waking up to rhea hold our two little girls in both of her arms when I finally woke up. “How are they..”I asked weakly “healthy and absolutely beautiful..just like their mother”she said before carefully handing me the girls “Athena, she’s the one with the darker hair..and Kyra she’s the one with the birth mark on her cheek” Rhea said before kissing me “I love you, I love you three so much” I said softly. “If it’s okay, the boys want to come over in a bit, dom tried to force them to let him come in right after the delivery.” She said softly “of course our girls need to meet their uncles, what about your parents?” I asked her “they are heading down tomorrow” she said.

I slid over in bed as I laid there with rhea and my girls, all three of them sound asleep, it was so peaceful, well that was until the boys got there, dom come rushing through the door, almost tripping when he got in causing Rhea to wake up. “Good going dom dom” I joked and gave him a weak smile, to which he returned with tears in his eyes “why are you crying dom?” I asked “I was just so worried about you, I haven’t slept. I’ve texted rhea and the boys all day, and I just couldn’t wait to meet my nieces when rhea told me that you guys where healthy” he rambled on before Finn stopped him “don’t talk the poor girls ear off”, they all walked closer seeing the two small baby’s in my arms, them asking their names, and us continuing talking, they stayed there for about two hours before leaving because I was tired.

The end! Thanks for reading! If you liked it please leave a request of your own!

Xoxo, v4mp-

[ughgoaway]

secret santa // day 1

content warnings; swearing, mention of boners, drinking?, pining and stressed matty lol

a/n; day 1 wooooo!!! For some reason, this is my longest fic i have for the 12 days, so we are starting with a bang, i guess?? I'm not totally sure how I feel about this fic... but tbh I never like anything I post, so that's not really new lol

word count; 4.2k

(this fic takes place pre-relationship)

12 days masterlist

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“Daddy!” is the first thing Matty hears when his daughter comes bounding into the house after school that day. Adam follows behind her with an exasperated look on his face, and her bright pink unicorn backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Hi mate, Annie has some very exciting news that she just can not stop talking about,” he says, stressing the fact that she just will not stop talking. Matty gives his friend an understanding nod as he takes his daughter's bag.

“Ah wow, how exciting! I can't wait to hear all about it,” Annie opens her mouth to talk, but Maty quickly cuts in before she can start, “After Uncle Adam leaves, okay? Say, thank you for picking me up to Uncle Adam!” 

Annie comes bounding up to Adam and hugs his legs. He can't help the smile that breaks out on his face. “Thank you, Uncle Adam!!” Annie says, looking up at him with that cheeky face he loves so much. Adam pats her head and waves to Matty before swiftly leaving to hang out with his much more peaceful son.

Matty manages to corral his daughter to sit at the kitchen table to share her very thrilling news, Annie is practically vibrating in her seat with excitement. Despite her palpable eagerness, Annie waited until Matty had sat down and given her a nod to start talking, something they had been working on.

As soon as she got the nod, words started vomiting out of Annie's mouth at a speed most people wouldn't be able to decipher. But if anyone was an expert on little Annie Healy, it was her dad.

“I get to do the Secret Santa!!” Annie eventually says, grinning so wide that Matty isn't sure her cheeks won't split. He pauses for a second, trying to process his daughter's words. How does she even know what secret Santa is?

“Oh wow, darling!” he says, fieigning happiness for his daughter, but his face tells another story, “That's great, sweetheart, but what does that mean exactly? Secret Santa with your friends? I thought we already got them presents?” Matty distinctly remembers about 2 hours in the Tesco toy aisle choosing out the perfect toy for each of her friends.

“Not for my friends silly,” Annie says sighing, as if her father's obliviousness was just so ridiculous, “for Miss y/n!!!” she smacks her hands on the table with a flourish, acting like this was an obvious piece of information.

Well, it certainly piqued Matty's interest. As did anything that involved your name, really. He remembers last month when someone got hired at Dirty Hit with the same name as you. Matty nearly got whiplash with how fast he turned when he first heard someone say “Y/n is here to see you!” The disappointment on his face must have scared the poor intern half to death. He quickly fixed his expression and was polite, but he felt his pulse racing under his skin.

“Ooh wow, munchkin, that's awesome! Did they give you a note or anything for me to have a look at?” Matty asks. He's sure they wouldn't trust a 6-year-old to relay this information.

Annie perked up at his words, “Oh yeah!” She says, jumping off her chair and scurrying over to her backpack. She unzips her bag and starts furiously pulling out different objects. Matty isn't sure how it all fits in. It's like Mary Poppins bag. She pulls out 5 books, 2 jumpers, 6 pieces of mystery paper, 2 toys (that she is not allowed to bring to school) and one of mayhems toys before she shrieks out an “Aha!” and in her hand is a crumpled pink slip of paper.

she brings it over to Matty excitedly and shoves it into his hand before straightening her back and puffing her chest out, clearly proud to have been chosen. Matty laughs at his daughter's infallible confidence before trying to straighten out the paper enough to read what's written.

“Okay let's see…” Matty says to himself, “Congratulations! If you have received this note, you have been chosen for our teacher's Secret Santa program! We at bridgeside school believe that our amazing teachers also deserve gifts this holiday season, so we choose one student from each teacher's class to be their Secret Santa. Don't worry, parents, there's a £10 limit so no need to go too wild! Students are picked based on enthusiasm and progress in school, so you should be proud to be picked! Please ensure all gifts are given to reception by Monday next week to allow time to distribute them. Thank you!” Matty finishes reading the note under his breath, and he can't help but grin to himself at the fact Annie was specially chosen.

He puts the paper down on the table and turns around to Annie, who is standing beside him with a nervous look on her face. Matty pauses for a few seconds before jumping and grabbing her, Annie shrieks at the sudden attack. He pulls her onto his lap and begins tickling all over her, revelling in her roaring laughter and infectious smile.

“Specially chosen, huh!” Matty says loudly to his daughter, still squeezing her tight in his arms and tickling where he can reach. Annie nods as best she can whilst being attacked with tickles, and Matty laughs at her gappy grin.

He soon lets up and leaves Annie sitting in his lap, looking happy as can be, “I know, Daddy!! The headmistress came to me today and said it because I've been trying so hard at my spelling!” she says, the look of pride on her face made mattys heart swell.

He remembers the late nights of practising her spelling. At the last parent’s evening, you had brought up Annie was falling behind a small bit in the weekly spelling tests. Not too much, but enough where some work at home would be beneficial. So Matty dedicated every Monday night as spelling night, and he and Annie sat and worked on it. He couldn't be happier that their hard work was recognised or that she's making such good progress.

It's then that the gravity of the situation at hand hits Matty. He has to buy a gift for you. For YOU. For the woman he… cares a great deal about. What does he buy? And for only £10! What good can he get with that? He didn't want to give you a shitty bottle of wine, this is his first opportunity to give you a gift and he wasn't about to fuck it up with a bad pinot.

Knowing he was about to spiral, Matty sent Annie off with a genuine smile and a quick hug. Annie being Annie, ran off oblivious to her dad's growing stress and began trolling around the house looking for mayhem. She had got some new hairclips in a magazine and was determined to give him a makeover.

Before he could go completely insane, Matty ran into the kitchen for his phone and just dialled the most recent number he called. Anyone would help right now, Matty was just sick of his own mind. 

“Hey Matty, you alright?” Ah, Adam, perfect. He was level-headed, a good dad, and knows how to deal with Matty’s hysteria. 

“Adam.” Matty starts in a disturbingly calm voice, “How could you just LEAVE when you knew what Annie was going to say?!?!” Matty scolded his best friend and was just met with the sound of laughter over the phone. 

“Why would I stay? It's no big deal, right? You have said on many occasions you feel totally neutral about Miss y/n, so I felt no need to stay” Adam teased, having had many conversations with Matty about his clear crush on you.

He first saw it at the school parent's day, he and Matty were casually chatting when you walked over and he saw his friend change in front of his eyes, suddenly becoming a lovesick 16-year-old. But Matty insisted he didn't have feelings for you, according to Matty he was “remarkably and totally neutral towards you”. 

Adam decided this news was a great way to test this theory. As soon as he heard Annie chattering on, he knew Matty would freak out, grab his phone, and call him. So when he got home, Adam simply made a cup of tea and sat down with his phone in his hand, waiting for a call. And 20 minutes later, his phone rang.

Silence is all Adam heard over the phone for a good few seconds, and he could almost see Matty weighing up his options with that scrunched-up face he does. He picked up his tea and loudly took a sip, reminding Matty of his presence.

On the other end of the line, Matty was doing exactly that. Does he embarrass himself and admit his feelings in exchange for help? Or does he fight to keep the last shred of dignity he had?

“Fine. I really really like her. Are you happy now?” Matty sighed, deciding that any dignity he might have had in the eyes of Adam died when he found him passed out in a bin with George at 19.

Adam grinned teasingly on the other side of the phone but decided to leave any real teasing for in person. It's just no fun when you can't see Matty's cheeks gradually turning more pink. “Okay. now that we've got that out of the way, what the fuck are you gonna get her?”

Matty scoffed at his friend's question, “Mate. Why the fuck do you think I'm calling? I have no idea!! I don't want to be boring and just get a candle and a bottle of wine.” Matty pauses thoughtfully for a moment before returning to his ramble, “although she does like candles. I remember her saying her apartment is covered in them, she even set off the smoke detector once. And she is always smelling like Jasmine so maybe that is her favourite scent? God she smells so good, you know I think her shampoo is apple and that mixed with-”

Adam cut Matty off before he started giving him your home address and national insurance number, “Dude how do you know what scent shampoo she uses? God, you're such a stalker. Don't go full Dahmer on this girl, yeah?” Adam jokes.

“It's not my fault she has nice hair! Anyway, shut up. You are not being helpful right now” Matty whines petulantly, and Adam realises he's actually freaking out about this. He decided it was time to go full dad mode and be supportive.

“Right, it's clear you know a lot about her, so why don't we focus on that? Do you know her favourite perfume or something? Maybe some jewellery she wants? I’m assuming you are not sticking to the £10 limit”

Matty simply scoffs, confirming Adam’s suspicion. Before he can continue throwing ideas at Matty, he hears him gasp, “I know what to get her!” Matty says excitedly.

Once again, silence falls over the two men, and Adam sighs, knowing what Matty wants, “and what is that, Matthew?” he says with sarcastic excitement filling his voice. 

Adam can hear the grin over the phone as Matty speaks, “I'm going to get her a copy of “The Little Prince” but a proper nice one, first edition in the original French and everything” he puffed out his chest in pride as he finished, despite no one being around to see him.

“A kid's book? Matty shes a teacher. I'm sure she's sick of kid’s books, why would you get her that? Does she even know French?” Adam can't help but think Matty saw a copy on her desk and just assumed she liked it. Maybe she was just teaching with it, and Matty took the idea and ran.

“No no, you don't get it,” Matty starts, “it was her favourite book as a kid. She was obsessed and read it cover to cover so many times the spine fell apart. She told me that this book is what made her want to teach. As soon as she read it, she went into her class the next day and did a whole presentation on it, read it to her whole class, and answered questions." Matty envisioned an 8-year-old you buzzing with excitement talking about the book, your teacher smiling and encouraging as you were blabbering on.

"She had a copy from her grandmother that she treasured, but it got lost in the jumble when she moved. It was in the original French, and she learnt French just to be able to read it. Nothing means more to her than this book.” As he finished, Matty noticed the massive grin on his face, something that was inevitable whenever he spoke about you.

He decided not to talk about the one time he actually heard you speak French, not wanting to share the experience of trying to hide a boner during a school-wide meeting and sneaking off to his car pretty quickly after it wrapped up.

Adam was taken aback by Matty's words. Who was this person, and what did he do to his best mate? He's pretty sure for his last situation-ships birthday, Matty got her a card with a bouquet of lilies. And she was allergic to lilies.

But here he was, considering things you loved in childhood, things that actually mean something to you. He had never seen Matty so infatuated with someone, remembering every little thing they ever said.

Matty was in love with you. 

“Fuck man you are whipped” is what Adam decided to say, not sure whether Matty had come to the whole “love” realisation by himself yet.

“Ha ha ha, Adam you're so funny.” Matty said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “So do you think it is okay? She’ll like it?” he anxiously chewed on his nails as he spoke, desperate not to fuck this up.

“It's perfect. She's gonna love it, if you can find one that is” came Adam's response, he decided to lay off the comedic responses for a little bit, just to stop Matty from having a mental breakdown. 

“Oh I'll find one. Otherwise, I'll have to get her a candle, and that's just shite” his confidence was clear through the phone. And a determined Matty is someone who gets something done, whether you like it or not.

As soon as he knew what to get, he practically hung up on Hann mid-sentence, but he stayed long enough to give him a rushed goodbye. Not quite long enough to say thank you, however, but Adam got a text a few seconds later simply saying, “Thank you, I needed that”

Adam, being a middle-aged man, simply sent back a thumbs-up emoji, ‘an image that speaks a thousand words’ he thought.

////

After a week of calling every rare bookshop in the area, Matty managed to get his hands on a first edition of “The Little Prince”, for substantially more than £10 but that secret was between him, god and his wallet. 

He explained to the school that Annie wanted to give her gift to you personally, so he asked if he could bring it directly to you on Friday. By some grace of god, the school agreed, and here Matty was standing outside your door gift bag in hand and pulling anxiously at his shirt.

“Matty!” You say in shock as you open the door, a beaming smile on your face. Matty took in your dress and almost had to grip the door frame to steady himself. It was the staff Christmas party that night, and it was clear you were all dressed up and ready. You stood in a sleek black dress, nothing glittery or fancy, but the way it looked on you had Matty's hands itching to touch you.

“I'm here too miss y/n” came a little voice from below. You were too busy staring into Matty’s eyes and watching them skirt over your body. 

“Oh, Annie! I'm so sorry, sweetheart, your daddy is so tall I almost missed you!” You laugh out and pat Annie's head in apology. Matty couldn't help but preen at the mention of his height.

“I'm so sorry to interrupt you. You look amazing, by the way. Well, not like - not amazing in a creepy way - I mean-” Matty stuttered, trying to get back to his point. You simply nod along with his words and bit the inside of your cheek to hide the smirk threatening to break across your face.

“Anyway,” Matty said after he pulled himself together with a shake of his head, “we're here to give you your Secret Santa present! Annie, do you want to pass it to miss y/n?” he patted his daughter on the back and passed her the gift.

With flushed cheeks and a pink nose from the cold, Annie grinned up to you and passed the bag over. Matty had added a few filler presents, a candle and a bottle of perfume Annie chose, and that he thought you'd like. Just the book felt… odd. A little too personal, maybe, he didn't want to scare you off with his slightly stalker-like tendencies.

“Wow! Thank you, Annie! I didn't think I was even in this year's Secret Santa!” You lie, you knew Annie was your gift giver the day she got chosen. That cheesy smile wouldn't leave her face all day.

Annie giggled clung to her dad's leg, suddenly feeling shy at the attention. Matty simply smiled at his daughter and began to fiddle with her curls.

“Okay well, we will leave you to go to your party now. I hope you have a good time! Say bye to miss y/n Annie,” Matty prompts his daughter, who gives you a wave and runs away. Matty spins on his heels and begins to follow before turning around to say one last thing. 

“I meant what I said earlier, by the way. You look beautiful” he said with a bashful smile, acting almost as shy as his daughter just had. 

Words escaped you at that moment. You wanted to run and give him a hug for the present and a kiss for the compliment, but you simply whispered, “Thank you, Matty.”

The door had barely clicked shut, and you had already all but ran to your desk to open your present, your heart in your mouth at the prospect of a gift from Matty. Well, technically from Annie, but you're pretty sure if Matty gave her £10 and let her loose in Tesco, the present would end up being something totally random like a bag of celery.

But maybe you were reading too much into this. Your silly schoolgirl crush has just been growing and growing over the passing months. Your heart aches for Matty. It has gotten to the point where you sit in bed late at night and perform autopsies on conversations you had months ago. Desperate to find something said in the unsaid, something new.

You won't see him for a week, and you'll convince yourself it's just a physical attraction thing, a casual crush. But then you see him swooping in at pick up with his rockstar sunglasses and beautiful curls, and you feel your heart stutter and pause. Every time you speak with him, butterflies hammer at your ribs, and your brain seems to just stop around him. Much to your embarrassment. 

Recently, you vowed to be more natural around him, totally normal. However, trying to play it cool and casual is a great plan in theory, but attempting to do that whilst looking into his eyes is an almost impossible task.

But tonight, you managed to at least play it off like Matty's comment didn't knock the wind out of you. His calling you beautiful was going to go around and around in your head for weeks. You wish you could have memorised the moment better. You should focus on his shy smile or the way he wrung his hands together anxiously. Maybe even the look of pure love in his eyes.

But you were too busy internally repeating to yourself “Don't fall over. Don't act like a twat. Make sure to smile and not freeze.” so all of those small things got lost in the jumble of thoughts.

As you pulled the tissue out of the paper, a waft of matty hit your nostrils. god, were you that desperate that even tissue paper smells like him now? You could swear it has that same musk and warmth that follows him around.

Little did you know Matty had to actively choose not to constantly think about you. He has to try not to think about the way you bite your lip when you're focusing on something. Or the way you fiddle with your hair when you're nervous, twisting it around your fingers absentmindedly. Or even the way your cheeks flush when someone compliments you, the way it spreads from your cheeks to over your nose and down to your neck. He has to really try not to think about your neck, to not obsess over the thought of pressing kisses up and down it as you giggle into him. But alas, he had actual adult responsibilities, much to his dismay, so he couldn't just sit and analyse you every waking moment.

You stick your hand in and grab something that feels like a candle, and it is… oh. It's a candle. Huh.

You're not disappointed. It smells good and has a beautiful jar, but you can't help but feel slightly odd at the lack of warmth. But whatever, you were expecting too much anyway. A candle and a bottle of wine are perfectly normal Secret Santa presents, and why should you expect anything other than that? Just because you were lusting after Matty doesn't mean he thought about you any longer than he had to.

You shake off any disappointment you had and resign yourself to the idea that this is a totally normal parent present. There won't be anything amazing or showstopping. The budget was £10 and you're sure not even world famous rock star Matty Healy could get anything good with that.

You pull out the perfume next, immediately smiling as you notice it's your favourite scent, jasmine. What a lucky guess. It's a nice bottle, too. It had you immediately thinking of a use for it afterwards, the same way any nice bottle or jar does. You must have a collection of 20 candle jars on your mantle at home filled with knickknacks, little things from the kids, or strange porcelain figures you didn't have the heart to leave in a charity shop.

The bag is still heavy in your hands, but you scrunch your face in confusion. Surely there's no budget left? Tentatively, you reach in and feel a book, which is even more confusing to you, but you pull it out anyway, interested to see what Matty thought you read.

Oh. fuck. 

There in your hands was your childhood in physical form, the curly script reading “le petit prince.” Your eyes skirt over the cover as they well up. Slowly, you spin the book around and audibly gasp as you look it over, admiring its worn spine and somehow pristine cover. 

Your vision is foggy, tears gathering at your lash line and you're intent on not letting them fall, but as soon as you open the book and a small certificate of authenticity falls out you can't help but wetly laugh in shock as tears stream down your cheeks.

The first edition of your favourite book of all time. The book that meant everything to you, everything to your grandmother. You never thought you'd see a first edition in real life, let alone own one.

With shaky hands, you carefully pull apart the pages and begin to read, muttering the french under your breath. Tears drip onto the desk and blow you. You sniffle and bring a shaky hand up to wipe them away, but it's futile. They continue to find their way down your cheeks.

With a pounding heart, you place down the book with the care of handling a newborn baby, and as you do so a small white slip of paper under the certificate catches your eye. You slide it out from under and try and read it despite your wet eyes.

“To y/n,

I know this is over the limit, but I also know what this book means to you. I still remember talking about it in depth on World Book Day. Us two huddled in a corner, trying to escape the other parents. Your vulnerability and honesty that day meant so much to me. Thank you for sharing. also, thank you for being the very best teacher to my little girl. I don't know where either of us would be without you. Anyway, I'll stop rambling now, Let's keep this gift between us, though, huh? I wouldn't want Mr. Johnson from the year 5 class to find out his nice cheese platter isn't the best gift of the year.

Happy holidays darling, 

Matty x”

Well, safe to say any hope of that crush faltering had just died and gone to hell. 

[kirby-the-gorb]

[oh-katsuki]

your cup of espresso sits untouched and cooling on the dinner table. you have it after dinner every night, one sugar cube evenly dissolved through the mixture, giving it an almost syrupy flavor that is lovely to sip. it's bitter, but the right kind of bitter, and somehow so impossibly sweet. a perfect finish to the day.

the black screen of your phone sits unobtrusively beside your wrist. you pick it up idly, illuminating it with a quick tap of your finger. a few new notifications, instagram, snapchat, texts, twitter notifications you don't care about. nothing really all too pressing.

you tap to open up your contacts, scrolling and coming to a stop at his name. gojo satoru with a little red heart beside it.

at first, you only tap on it to look. it's not really like you had any plan to text or ring him. you just wanted to look at his contact card, maybe stare for a few minutes at the smiling, half ugly photo of him set as his contact picture. you're in the background of it, grabbing his upper arm to get his attention. it's a photo from a work meetup and nanami took it. somehow, it's come to mean a lot more to you than just a contact photo. you sigh, contemplating the phone call and then, without much fanfare, you click the button.

it rings in your ear as you put it up to the side of your head. your heart pounds in your chest, waiting for the ringing to come to a stop, maybe to hear his voice. it's been a long while since he's answered your calls though and you let out a humorless laugh as his voicemail plays.

"hey, you've reached gojo satoru. sorry i missed your call, i'm just soooo busy—" someone interrupts him, "hey can't you see im recording my voicemail message?" there's a small noise and then he's back, closer now. "—anyway, leave a message at the beep and maybe i'll call you back."

he'd set it in high school and his voice is a familiar and delightful higher pitch. you'd always told him that he needed to change it to something more mature, but he'd always blink at you and give you the same answer.

"who the hell would be calling me?" he'd say. "think i'm applying for another job or something?"

and you could never really argue with it. sure, you could've told him that it was immature, but at the end of the day he was right. it's not like he'd ever planned to change professions and professional conduct meant fuck-all when he was the strongest sorcerer of the modern age.

"hey," you start, clearing your throat, "it's me again. i don't know why i thought you'd actually answer my call this time, just sort of felt like you would. it was nice to hear your voice though, even if it was your voicemail message."

you run your finger along the grain in the wood of your table, tracing its intricate pattern with a light touch.

"i made that strawberry shortcake thing today." you're not really sure why you're telling him that. "you know, the one with the cream instead of frosting. it was good, kinda hard to make the actual cake though. the house smells good now. but yeah, i had a day off for once so i just sort of... hung around." you can feel your bottom lip growing raw with the way you chew on it between sentences. there's not really a reason that you called him. nothing particularly interesting has happened to you, let alone anything he'd care about, but you just felt like talking. still do, even if it's to his voicemail box, and you continue speaking into it about your day.

you like to think he couldn't be bothered to answer the phone. lazy, in some way, to answer your needy call. you like to think that maybe he'd seen the call, his phone ringing on the counter, from where he was in the shower. he'll listen to your voicemail and call you when he's out and dry to ask about trying the cake, maybe.

"would have been nice to see you. it's been like... two months since we've met up. i know you're probably busy though. doing whatever it is you do on the weekend, not that i really know anymore."

the kitchen light suddenly seems too bright, casting its artificial yellow glow down on the center of your table. you reach up to rub your temples. there's a dull throb beginning behind your eyes and in the bridge of your nose. it's almost like you're about to cry and as you sniffle quietly into the receiver, you can feel the swell of emotions as it rises in you.

"i really miss you, satoru," you say with a defeated sigh. "i know i probably sound like a broken record and that your phone storage must really be taking a hit, but i do. you probably get a kick out of knowing that though," the laugh that comes from you is muddled as your nose begins to run, and you reach quickly to wipe it. "wish you'd call me back. or come home, maybe. it's funny, i keep thinking that you'll come in the door any minute and the feeling never really... stops."

you clear your throat again, putting your tongue in your cheek and steeling your nerves a little.

"well, i'll let you go now," you swallow, laughing a little like the statement is silly. he's not really on the phone. it doesn't matter all that much how long the voicemail is. "stop before the voicemail lady cuts me off. but yeah, i just wanted to call. i keep hoping that you'll pick up. who knows, right?"

there's a short pause and then you inhale, straightening your back.

"i love you," you say. "always have. i'll call you tomorrow too, so... yeah. i love you, satoru. bye."

you pull your phone away from the side of your face, clicking the end call button a little too quickly before putting it face down on the table. it's comforting to call him, but it hurts too. there's always the hope that he'll answer. that by some miraculous turn of events, the ringing will stop short and he'll draw out a hello in a pleasant tenor hum. of course, he'd know exactly who's calling. satoru always did.

maybe you'll pay him a visit tomorrow, say all of this directly to him, though you haven't had the courage yet to visit that little stone plaque. it's a little too hard, for now. it's easier to think that he's ignoring your calls than incapable of answering them all together.

someday, his voicemail will fill up and you'll have to confront the truth. it will fill up, you'll be greeted by the voice mailbox full message, and there will be no one on the other end to clear it.

[bluehourbucky]

Vampire!bucky x innocent!reader. We have a mighty need

Strawberry juice

pairing: vampire!bucky x innocent!reader

warnings: blood / blood sucking / kidnapping/ dark!bucky / non-con use of body for buckys orgasm / release in pants

a/n:I hope you enjoy I tried my best! I'm still new to writing smut and I'm still learning please be nice 🥹 I also wasn't sure if you wanted this to be a dark fic 😅

18+ only

minors do not interact

this is a dark fic if you're not into that please do not read!!!

masterlist / bucky / part 2

/_________________________________________/

You've been working at this coffee shop near your place for 6 months, and you've been loving it. The people are always so nice to you even when you make a mistake, which was so surprising as people used to yell at you at the place you worked before. To be fair, the coffee shops' uniforms were little maid outfits that leave very little to imagination, but to you it never clicked that everyone was nice because of that.

And even the tips were amazing.

You loved your job, it was really fun to talk to people all day and receive compliments, you've never heard so many compliments in your whole life!

The regular customers always left big tips even when you spilled something on them! You'd be apologising, then helping them clean up the mess and you'd feel so bad, but they would just reply with a smile and give you double the price of the coffee you'd spilled. When you tried to deny the tip they'd just put it in the pocket of your outfit.

Recently, a new customer started coming, and he was very pretty. You've started to wait for him to show up all day, you even changed shifts since he usually comes an hour before closing.

The man usually sits in the far back corner of the shop, he sits in a place that has the best view of the whole place. He never finishes his tea or coffee just sits there and reads.

You thought he looked lonely and you've really wanted to start a conversation with him, but the opportunity never rose until now.

The place was empty, only you and the man are left, you've got another half an hour before closing and you've already done everything. So you gather the courage to go talk to him. Maybe you want him to pay attention to you because he's the only one who doesn't, and you're not used to being ignored and not called pretty.

"Hi."

your heart stops when the man looks straight into your eyes, the intense blue of his eyes making your legs shake.

"Hi? Is there a problem, you're still open right?"

you try so hard to break the eye contact but something won't let you, it's like you're stuck.

"Oh there's no problem just wanted to ask if everything was okay?" you feel out of breath by the time you finish your sentence.

"Oh, everything is great. Don't worry about me, but if I could ask for your company just for a few minutes?"

You can't deny a lonely man, he just needed a friend you were right! So you smile and sit across from him.

"What are you reading?"

And that's how you two started hanging out every evening. He'd read his book and you'd ask questions, sometimes you would get lost in your own world by talking about your day or the flowers you saw in the flowershop and he wouldn't even get to say anything.

You'd try to apologise but he'd always say that he enjoyed listening to you.

Bucky is a patient man, he'd like to think he is but he was getting impatient and hungry. He'd been watching you since the first day you've started working at the coffee shop. The sweet smell of you had brought him to the place. He'd never been fond of coffee even when he was able drink it.

Usually, when he smelled the delicious food, he'd eat it as soon as possible, but with you, he decided he'd rather play. Steve always told him not to play with food, but you were just irresistible.

About a month ago, you finally talked to him and just never stopped. He'd started to wait for you to close up since there's a lot of creepy men around, he would know.

But he was getting very hungry, he's spent too much time with you that he'd forgotten to eat and that's all he could ever think about when he was with you.

Bucky is ready to have the most delicious meal of his not life.

"I'm ready!"

He turns and smiles at you, he said he'd wait for you to finish and walk you all the way home, you thanked him over and over.

"Thank you so much! I get really scared when I'm walking alone." you say as you lock the door and check twice if you did it properly.

You grab his arm and walk with him happily, you don't even notice he'd lead you to an alleyway.

"Whe-"

Bucky pushes you against the brick wall his hand on the back of your head, he can't let any blood go to waste. The whole reason he's here with you in the first place. He tasted the rarest blood type and he'd tasted virgin blood too, but never two in one, he knows he's about to have the tastiest meal.

His nose runs up and down your neck, pressing it to the most prominent vein.

"You smell so good pretty girl."

you giggle when his stubble tickles your neck.

"It's my favorite strawberry perfume." you say and Bucky laughs.

"Is that so?"

"Yes I love strawberry!"

Oh that's precious, Bucky thinks, you have so much in common with strawberries, both are sweet and when you bite into them red juice comes out.

"Well, strawberries are my favourite too, you're my favourite one."

You blush and put your hands on Buckys shoulders, he's caged you between him and the wall.

"You're not scared little one?"

"Why would I be scared, that's silly we're friends!"

Bucky smirks.

"That's right we are friends. You're gonna be a good girl for me." It's not a question it's a statement.

"You're poking me." you try to push him off you a little. Bucky might have gotten too excited to have you for himself. His buldge was indeed pressed against your stomach.

"Is that so?" He mocks and rolls his hips which grants him access to your tongue when you whined and opened your mouth. He forces his tongue into your mouth and starts kissing you. Nothing about the kiss is gentle but he's enjoying it, your lip starts to bleed when his fangs cut it. He sucks on it and moans at the taste.

Oh the taste is just incredible and Bucky decides that he will keep you. He won't drain you he'll just take you home and snack on you whenever he feels like it.

"Stop, please." you cry out but Bucky is too strong and you can't even move an inch.

"Don't worry, sweet girl I won't kill you you're safe with me."

He grabs your jaw and forces you to look at him, he wasn't planning to hypnotise you to obey him but he didn't really want you to become fussy, that would be a disaster..... imagine if any drop of your precious blood spilled - not allowed.

"Okay."

"Good girl."

Bucky picks you up completely off the floor, putting your legs around his waist so his croch is exactly on your clothed pussy. Instead of biting your neck he picks up your arm and bites into your forearm.

The taste overwhelmed him, it's so intense like nothing he'd ever tasted before - humans would probably describe it as biting into a lava chocolate cake when all the filling just drips out.

Bucky feeds off of you slowly, but his thrusts are fast and unreserved, and the moment he stops sucking you, Bucky releases his load into his pants and rides out his orgasm.

"See, little one I just took a little."

Bucky caresses your cheek and your eyes are barely open, you're on the verge of passing out.

"Mhm." you whimper when Bucky let's you down for a second before picking you up again, princess style, he sets your head on his shoulder and you instantly fall asleep.

"Master, I told you not to play with your food."

Steve, Buckys familiar and friend says from the beginning of the alleyway.

"I know, I'm taking this one with me couldn't take all of it at once, she filled me up with just a few drops." Bucky says feeling surprisingly very full after taking maybe 200ml and usually he needs a lot more.

"I'll see you at home!"

Bucky says before flying away.

Steve curses under his breath he always needs to walk.

You wake up in an unfamiliar room and look around, your eyes take bit to get used to the dark around you.

"I see you're awake, precious."

"Where am I?"

"Your new home of course!"

_________________________________________

[THE END]

[miasmaghoul]

From the prompt list

Dew/Aether #26

From this list.

#26 - as an apology

-----

"You're serious?"

Aether nods, but he can't look up. The disbelief in Dew's voice is something he expected, but it feels so much worse that he'd anticipated.

"Yes," he breathes, fiddling with a bracelet. "I told Papa this morning." Aether swallows, mouth dry. "I would have told you sooner, but -"

"Why?"

Aether sighs, scrubs at his face with both hands. The scent of antibacterial soap floods his nose, skin made dry from endless washing during his infirmary shift. He stares at the little ghoul's boots, black leather stark against the white tile floors. Maybe it was a mistake to do this here. Maybe he should have waited until tonight, until they were tangled up in bed and Dew was blissed out and half asleep. Maybe he'd sound less betrayed.

Somehow, Aether doubts it.

"I told you," he sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I'm tired, Dew. Too tired to keep up with the rest of you." Aether rubs the back of his neck. "You remember the last leg, right? How many times did Papa talk to me about my mistakes? How many times did you have to pick up my slack?"

"Aeth -"

Aether holds up a hand, and Dewdrop pauses. Aether can feel his scowl, eyes burning into the top of his head. He still can't make himself look up.

"How many nights did you have to spend massaging my hands, just so I could play the next day?"Aether cracks his knuckles, wincing at their stiffness. "Besides, they need me here." He gestures vaguely at the empty infirmary lobby. "Now that Omega's gone, I'm the only full-time healer we've got."

He huffs out a harsh exhale, pinches the bridge of his nose. This was so much easier in his head. He watched the little ghoul cross his legs, scuffing the toe of his boot against the floor.

"I just...I can't do it anymore, Dew. I don't have the energy."

He falls silent after that, shoulders hunched and hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks, and waits. Waits for Dew to yell, to grab his coat and throttle him, to punch a wall - anything to express the rage he swears he can feel pouring from that slight body.

"I understand," Dew says instead, and somehow that's the thing that makes Aether look at him.

Dewdrop's expression reads cool, but his shoulders sit tense. The tip of his tail flicks through the air, obvious agitation, but it seems to be unconscious. There's something hard in his copper eyes, and Aether swallows hard.

"You...you what?"

"I get it," Dew says with a shrug, rolling his neck. "I was around when Zeph went through this, remember?"

That's...a fair point. Zephyr may have only joined them on stage for a few months, but Aether remembers very clearly all the evenings spent helping with their pain and exhaustion. He sighs, nods.

"Yeah, I do. But this isn't the same -"

"You could've told me, y'know," Dew interrupts, softer. "Before now, I mean. Before you told Papa."

"I almost did," Aether admits. Dew's casual demeanor has him off balance - he expected to have his coat singed by now. "But I was worried -"

"I wouldn't have told anyone," he interrupts, voice soft, and Aether stutters to a halt. Watches the little ghoul wring his hands. "Wouldn't have done that to you."

Aether blinks. Twice. That thought hadn't even occurred to him, not for a second. His hesitence came only from the risk of upsetting Dew, not from some fear of having his retirement revealed before he was ready. He cants his head and peers at Dewdrop, brow furrowed, and finds something new in his eyes. A watery glimmer of something so obviously sad, so fearful, that it makes Aether's heart ache.

"Oh, Dew..."

In half a breath they're caught up in each other, Aether holding the little ghoul to his chest in a crushing embrac, one hand on the back of his ash blond head and the other arm curled tight around him. Dew's hands fist into his shirt and he plants his feet between Aether's, huffing against his chest, and for a few moments they stay like that. Holding one another in silence while Aether collects his words and tries to figure out what he could possibly say to assure the one he loves more than any other that he'd never question his trust. To apologize for even making him think otherwise.

Then Dew pulls away just enough to look up at him with those gorgeous eyes, the gentlest smile curving his lips, and Aether has his answer.

The kiss is soft, gentle. No urgency, no tongue, just the perfect meeting of their mouths. Dew's warm hands come up to cup Aether's cheeks and Aether sighs through his nose, muscles he didn't know he'd tensed going lax. It feels like an age before they part, and Aether knows he doesn't have to say it, but -

"I'm sorry, firefly," he whispers, rubbing Dew's back and nosing at his temple. "I didn't mean -"

"I know," Dew assures him, stroking his face, eyes searching his own. "I...I know."

Dew kisses him again, and Aether decides any other words can wait until his hands stop shaking.

[rarepears]

Nie Huaisang, Lan Xichen, Jin Guangyao, and Nie Mingjue all reincarnate together into PIDW, and become disciples around the same time as Luo Binghe.

The drama of this is of course enhanced by the facts that NMJ & JGY died "early," but NHS & LXC lived to the end of their natural lives as cultivators, and so some of their perspectives and opinions on events have naturally changed with age. (tfw the passage of time renders you unfamiliar to your once-loved ones)

Eventually they talk about their feelings and reconcile and such, and this ends up derailing the plot of PIDW severely as the rest of the PIDW characters confusedly observe quite possibly the weirdest disciples Cang Qiong's ever seen

NMJ on Bai Zhan, with no clue what's going on because he died first and NHS & LXC haven't told him anything

NHS on An Ding, thoroughly enjoying what's pretty much a vacation to him at this point and possibly running an interpeak illicit goods market (definitely not to distract himself from any of the emotions having NMJ & JGY alive and nearby would be causing him, Everything Is Fine) I haven't decided if he'd get involved with the whole og!SQH and MBJ situation tho

LXC on Qiong Ding, because I feel like he'd see himself in Yue Qingyuan and lowkey hate him for it and I think that could be interesting

JGY on Qing Jing, because he's the objectively the funniest/most interesting character to throw into the mess that is SJ and LBH. The way I imagine it, he's doing the most direct derailing of the plot, because he mostly accidentally gets right in the middle of the thing that is going on between those two

I feel like as I wrote this it became more serious than I originally intended so just know that I'm mentally picturing this like a fic that's interspersed with outsider POV of the 4 of them being completely deranged about eachother

(Also I'd feel bad taking away LXC's brother so LWJ and WWX + friends are busy doing hot girl shit being rogue cultivators. I think WWX should be a half demon so he gets to keep the cultivation and steal some of LBH's protagonist energy. If this was a fic then the rest of the Untamed gang would be perfect to use for side characters during off-peak missions)

*grabs popcorn and sits down to hear more*

Nie Huaisang is having too much fun waiting the two idiots called his shizun and shizun's poorly kept secret of a boyfriend go flailing around on these terribly unromantic dates BUT THE TWO WERE TRYING SO HARD that it was cute. He wonders if he should do something to help the poor idiots out... Should he?

Maybe he should...

(Watch Shang Qinghua and Mobei Jun suddenly have a number of sex pollen accidents over the next few months....)

Lan Xichen would be an old man and a good voice of reason for Yue Qingyuan. Although he's head disciple and a very good one at that (if only because his Big Brother instincts can't be held back and he MUST interfere to help prevent history repeating once more), Lan Xichen has made it very clear that he would never accept becoming sect leader.

Also don't forget Liu Mingyan in the background writing about a 4 person sex orgy. At least, that's her personal theory for why there's so much UNRESOLVED TENSION between these four sus male disciples. And also, because it's fun.

It's even funner when you consider that Nie Mingjue is out of the loop of Cang Qiong stuff even on Bai Zhan because he tags along on so many of Liu Qingge's missions that he's probably spending like 8 months of the year outside of the sect.

(Nie Huaisang gets "assigned" to missions that happen to take place near Nie Mingjue's hunts.)

Meng Yao is Meng Yao and he still craves the approval of Male Authority Figures That Could be his dad. Also Meng Yao still likes to climb up the social hierarchy and power. AKA Luo Binghe growing mushrooms in the corner at seeing ANOTHER QING JING disciple THE SAME AGE AS HIM being given SO MUCH ATTENTION AND APPROVAL by shizun.

Luo Binghe develops a complex over Meng Yao of course.

(Shen Jiu approves of Meng Yao because he understands these characters very well and know how to manipulate (cough kill or injury them physically or mentally) them easily. Plus Meng Yao is actually competent.)

[More in #Nie Huaisang Lan Xichen Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue reincarnate into PIDW and are Cang Qiong disciples at the same time as Luo Binghe is AU

[vbecker10]

My Best Friend...

(Part 1 of 2 - Part 2)

Pairing: Loki x plus size female reader (y/n)

Warnings: angst (of course, not sorry), self depreciating thoughts, feeling inadequate, issues with self image, low self worth, annoying friends... but I promise lots and lots of fluff so just hold on until the end - let me know if I forgot anything 💚

Summary: What you thought would be a relaxing girls night quickly turns into an interrogation by Nat and Wanda about your non-existent relationship with Loki. After denying you are anything other then friends for as long as you can, you finally tell them how you really feel about him... and why you know he will never feel the same. The night goes from bad to worse when you realize Loki overheard you talking to them and you try to hide from him.

A/N: Loki is talked about in this part a lot but he doesn't really show up until the very end, don't worry he is going to be in the whole second part though. Also, I was going to make this one very long fic but @michelleleewise suggested breaking it into two parts so you can thank her for all the angst being in the first half and having to wait another few days for the fluff - love you @michelleleewise 💚

Dividers by: @harlequin-hangout

"Oh, come on Y/N," Natasha laughs as she sets the pizza box on the coffee table. "Just admit it and we can all move on with our lives."

"I can't cause it's not true," you tell her, looking down to avoid eye contact with the spy. You sit on one end of the couch and she sits next to you, you pass her and Wanda plates. "I'm disappointed, I thought you would be better at reading situations then this," you say sarcastically and she let's out a dramatic gasp, pretending to be offended.

"I think the real problem is you are worse at hiding your relationship with Loki then you think you are," Wanda says as she grabs a slice of pizza. "And since you won't just admit it, how about we review the facts?" Wanda asks with a wide smile before sitting cross legged on the floor on the other side of the coffee table.

"Oh, I can't wait to hear all of these supposed facts," you roll your eyes.

"Exhibit A, breakfast," Wanda says too excitedly for your liking, "Loki brings you coffee and something to eat every single morning. How do you explain that if the two of you aren't dating, hmm?"

You decide maybe it would be better to just play along with your friends this time, hoping you might be able to convince them they were both wrong once and for all. Wanda and Nat had recently become obsessed with the idea that you and Loki were secretly dating but it had really picked up over the last week.

"I'm telling you, we aren't dating. He just knows I have a lot of early meetings so it's easy for me to get distracted and then I forget to eat," you tell them.

"I don't know," Natasha shakes her head, "Worrying that you're skipping meals seems like good boyfriend behavior."

"It is not, it's good friend behavior," you correct her, "Maybe the two of you don't worry about me enough." You cross your arms and stare at Nat then Wanda, causing them to giggle.

"Still, it's impressive. I don't think Loki even knows if Thor drinks coffee, forget about him ever bringing his brother or anyone else on the team anything," Nat says, picking up right where she left off before the minor laughing fit.

"I don't know what to tell you," you shrug. "Maybe he knows I'm less grumpy when I eat. Those mission report meetings we have are brutal if I'm not fully caffeinated," you suggest another reason.

"Nice try Y/N, but those meetings are only once a week," Nat reminds you and practically wince, how did you ever think the best spy on the planet would let that detail slip past her. "Care to explain away the coffee he brings you the other four days?"

You don't answer, pretending to be interested in reading the label on your drink instead. You remember when Loki started doing it roughly three months ago. One Friday while you were watching a movie together, you complained to him that you had missed breakfast three days in a row that week due to your tight meeting schedule. You hadn't meant for him to do anything about it, you were just venting. The following Monday and every morning since, Loki would stop by your office before he trained with Thor. He brought you a large coffee exactly the way you liked it, even though you don't remember him asking how you took it, and something to eat. You offered to pay him back after the first couple of days but he just smiled and told you not to worry about it.

Wanda laughs at your lack of response, pulling you from your thoughts and asks, "I think it's time for exhibit B, don't you?"

"Oh, of course," Nat smiles and you groan, quickly realizing this was a bad idea.

"Exhibit B, your weekends," Wanda says.

"There is nothing weird about our weekends," you tell them defensively. "What are you talking about?"

"Really Y/N?" Wanda says. "You're going to pretend you and Loki aren't going on dates all the time?"

"We aren't dating," you respond, this time you don't bother to force a smile. "We just like going to the same places."

"The two of you spend every minute of the weekend together," Nat chimes in. "I don't think Wanda spends as much time with Viz as you spend with Loki."

"It's not my fault Loki is more interesting than Vision," you reply quickly, earning a loud laugh from Nat and an eye roll from Wanda.

Natasha wasn't exactly wrong though. Over the last four months you and Loki had gone to art galleries, museums, plays and parks all across the city. These outings would have been truly amazing dates... if you were dating but you weren't. You think back to last weekend when you took him to the Winter Village at Bryant Park for the first time. Your fingers begin to play with the necklace you bought from one of the many artists who had set up stalls there. You were wearing gloves so Loki offered to put it on you, gently sweeping your hair away from your neck as he stood behind you to fasten the clasp. You hadn't been able to stop blushing when his fingers brushed against your skin but thankfully you could blame your red cheeks on the sudden cold breeze.

"Y/N," Wanda says, tossing a balled up napkin at you to get your attention. "Thinking about your next date night?"

You sigh and shake your head no. "Can't you both just let this go? We're going to waste the whole night on this."

"I only have one more exhibit to prove that you are dating, then we will leave you alone," Wanda says and you reluctantly agree to hear it, knowing she will tell you either way. "Exhibit C, you sleep in his apartment way too often. I mean really Y/N, I don't know why you pay rent at your place when you sleep with him two or three times a week."

"Ah, remember two weeks ago?" Nat asks Wanda and she nods. "How many nights in a row did you sleep with Loki?" she asks you with a smirk.

You sigh, "First off, stop saying it like that. I'm not sleeping with him, I sleep at his place. Secondly..." you pause not wanting to answer her question. "Five but you know that was because of the weather."

"Once in a while I get, but that many times in a row and you are practically living with him. I would bet you even have your own toothbrush and a drawer or two at his place," Wanda jokes.

You bite your lip before you respond, you did have a toothbrush and a few things stored in Loki's apartment. He had suggested you leave some items there so you were more comfortable since you slept over so often.

"I only sleep there cause he worries about me getting home safe if it's after a certain time, like if we are out until midnight on the weekends or I work really late during the week," you explain truthfully then add, "And sometimes I accidentally fall asleep at his place if we're watching a movie and he just lets me sleep. It's really not a big deal."

"Mmhmm..." Nat nods.

"I know that look Nat so don't even say it. I've already told you, nothing happens. Loki always offers me his bed and he takes the couch in his living area," you add quickly.

"Damn," Nat laughs and pretends to look disappointed.

"Now, you've finished with your 'facts' that prove nothing. He's just my best friend, that's it," you say, desperately trying to avoid talking about Loki any longer. "Can we please move onto something else?"

"Come on, what else do we need to do to get you to just tell us the truth," Wanda says.

"We aren't together," you tell them for what feels like the hundredth time.

"You can't lie to us," Nat says as if she didn't hear you, "Out with it."

"He's not mine!" you hear yourself say loudly and the smiles fall from their faces.

You look at them both silently, suddenly feeling too exposed as you finally give up on pretending you were unbothered by their constant questions and accusations. You slowly shift so you are sitting with your legs tucked underneath you, pressing your back into the couch. Picking up one of the pillows from between you and Nat, you hold it against your chest almost as if you are trying to hide yourself.

"He's not... he's not mine," you repeat again, a bit quieter this time. "He never was and he never will be. I'm just his best friend," you say.

"Wait... no, you really aren't together?" Nat asks almost in disbelief and you nod.

"I- we honestly thought you were just trying to keep it a really bad secret. I had no idea... I'm so sorry," Wanda says softly. "We never should have pushed you so hard."

"I'm sorry too Y/N but why aren't you two dating?" Nat asks. "The two of you seem so perfect for each other."

You shake your head then lower your face into the pillow to hide the gathering tears. "What did you say?" Wanda asks when you mumble something in response to Nat. You can feel her sitting on the arm of the couch as she gently tries to pull the pillow away from your face.

You cling to it tightly but allow her to lower it a bit. "I said... he would never want to date me," you tell them without looking up. "I'm not his type," you feel the first few tears slip free and fall down your cheeks.

You pull the sleeves of your sweater down over your hands and wipe your eyes. "Loki is a freaking prince and a God. Why would he want someone like me?" you ask them the question you had been asking yourself since you realized you were in love with him.

"Someone like you?" Nat repeats your question. "Because you are amazing Y/N. You're incredibly funny, clever and-"

You interrupt Nat, "But I'm not beautiful."

"What?" Wanda asks. "Y/N, of course you are."

"No, I'm not beautiful," you tell them. "I know what I look like, I'm short and I'm significantly overweight... I could lose a hundred pounds and I would still be nothing like the women Loki dates. They have all been tall and thin, perfect just like he is," you say, keeping your head down. "He's been with models, socialites, actresses and literal princesses when he lived on Asgard. Why would he ever want me when he could have them?"

You put one hand over your face as you lose the battle to hold back your tears. "I'm such an idiot," you say more to yourself than your friends. "I let myself fall in love with my best friend even though I know he will never love me back," you grip the pillow tighter to your body and keep your eyes closed behind your other hand.

You feel a hand gently settle on your knee, squeezing lightly to comfort you. You appreciate the gesture until you realize you no longer feel Nat and Wanda sitting on either side of you. You sniffle and wipe your eyes, your heart beginning to race as you recognize your favorite smell, Loki's cologne.

"Y/N," Loki says almost in a whisper. He looks up at you as he kneels on the carpet in front of you.

"No," you say in disbelief as you stand up, tossing aside the pillow.

"Wait-" he says but you ignore him, desperately avoiding his gaze.

"No, no, no," you repeat as you realize Loki heard you say you loved him. If he heard that, what else had he heard? Before he can say anything else you grab your phone off the coffee table and leave the common area as quickly as possible.

Please let me know if you want to be added or taken off the tag list 💚💚

@michelleleewise @soubi001 @ace-of-gay @tessathechild @misunderstoodself @coldnique @lokiprompts @thomase1 @mochie85 @fi-recs-fics @huntress-artemiss @sititran @xorpsbane @kkdvkyya @lokisgoodgirl @harlequin-hangout @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @kats72 @avoliax @peaches1958 @peachyjinx @loopsisloops @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @high-functioning-lokipath @psychospore @dukes2581 @buttercupcookies-blog @animnerd @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @laufeyson-16 @lonadane @loki-laufeyson-1054 @pics-and-fanfics

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated 💚💚

[feelbokkie]

One Last Dance | Chapter 11

pairing: Minho x fem reader

genre: smau, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au, major character death (I am apologizing now), friends to lovers, soul mates, first love, roommates

pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

warnings: swearing, mention of food, mention of sex

summary: Childhood best friends Lee Minho and L/n Y/n are in their final year of university. While both of them are in love with each other, the only thing keeping them apart is Minho’s fear of change. As both dancers prepare for their lives after college, will Minho finally let fear rule him and his emotions or will he finally gain courage before he loses Y/n forever?

word count: 3,301

screenshot count: 19

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©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

You toss your phone aside and quietly groan at the "almost stepdad" comment. You lean your head against the back of the couch and pinch the bridge of your nose, anticipating the headache you’re going to get from Minho when he finally reads it. Be has no reason to get jealous over it, but knowing him, he might anyway.

Truth be told, you have no idea where your relationship stands with Minho after your beach trip. You slept together, a boundary you weren’t expecting to ever cross with him after he rejected you last year. And you were fine with that. As long as he was in your life, you were okay with that. But almost dying made something click for you. And it must have made something click for him too because, why else would he sleep with you?

You both care so deeply for each other, and that’s why your relationship works so well. You push each other to be the best versions of yourself. You probably wouldn’t be half the dancer you are today if you didn’t have Minho pushing you when you were younger. You’ve always been there for each other. Like when your parents asked him to escort you to your first date just so you wouldn’t have to walk to the meeting place alone. He did it begrudgingly. And when your date inevitably stood you up, he came and told you that he wanted to see the movie too so the two of you should just go together and get something to eat after. And then he promptly got suspended the next school day for finding the upperclassman who stood you up and breaking his nose.

And you'd do similar things for him, even though it never felt like you did anything of equal value to his favors for you. Favors, because that's what they felt like before you realized you liked him. Like when you practically lived with him for a month back in high school because you have always been better at school than him. His parents threatened to pull him out of taekwondo, martial arts, and dance if his grades didn't improve. After school activities that he did with you. So you made sure to go home with him every day, some days bringing him home with you, so you two could study together. You complain about how codependent Minho is, but maybe you're just as dependent on him as he is on you.

You can't think of a single day of your life where Minho wasn't there. You've been together since birth, literally. Minho's mother went into labor and for some reason, your mother did too even though she wasn't due to give birth for another month or so. It was almost as if you said, "Wait, me too!" While you were in the NICU, Minho was right there next to you, suffering from his own health issues. Despite the severity of your conditions, the two of you were discharged the same day. Your parents often talk about how much you and Minho used to cry when you were infants and how the only way to get you two to stop was to put you together. Even for college, the two of you ended up applying to all the same universities and made the decision together, it was almost a no-brainer. Second nature for one to follow the other.

Meow.

You lift your head off the back of the couch and look next to you. Moonshine is sitting next to you, tilting her head and staring. You check the time on your phone and shake your head.

"You hungry, Moonie? Go get Soonie, Doongie, and Dori. I'll put your food right now." You stroke her fur before she hopped off the couch and went in the direction of Minho's room. You stand up from your position on the couch and stretch. Once you're settled, you make your way to the kitchen. You make sure to close the makeshift double-decker cat gate behind you to avoid an incident like the flour. You still remember the day you and Minho had to get supplies to make it. You were 19 and baby fact. It was evident that you two were freshly out of high school, or at the very least, really young. You decided it would be cheaper to buy two baby cribs and combine them.

You quickly put food and water for the cats and put it in the living room where they are already waiting to be fed.

"Don't eat too fast, you know you'll choke and if you die on my watch, dad will kill me." You add before heading back to the kitchen.

Minho should be home from work soon. He's been at work all day. They called him in to work a double this morning. It's almost dinner time and you know he's going to be starving when he gets home. He'll probably be too tired to make something for himself and he often doesn't eat at the restaurant because he knows everyone who works in the kitchen.

You open the fridge and scan what you have that could be made quickly. You're tired yourself, having worked another shift at the bar the night/morning before. And you already cooked today when you made lunch for Jisung, Chan, and Changbin. You settle on kimchi fried rice when you find some leftover rice from last night's dinner. It's simple, quick, and, most importantly, Minho's favorite.

***

Click

You rub your eyes as you sit up. You look around. All four cats surround you, in various stages of sleep. You didn't mean to fall asleep. After cooking dinner, you decided to do some homework while waiting for Minho on the couch. You must have fallen asleep while watching your professor's dance demo for class on Monday.

"Ah, did I wake you?" Minho whispers. Careful to not wake Dori and Moonshine.

"It's fine. I would have caught a cold sleeping out here anyway. Welcome home." You greet as you carefully get up from the couch.

"Thank you," He says quietly as he takes off his shoes and leaves them next to yours. You look at the time on your phone out of curiosity it's two hours later than he was supposed to be home.

"Did they ask you to stay late?" You turn around to find Minho taking off his jacket and setting his bag down by the door.

"Yeah, one of the servers called out last minute and the only other person who could have covered her shift needed some time to get there. But it's fine, we could use the extra money."

"True," You stand awkwardly by the couch. How are you supposed to greet him? A kiss? You shake the thought out of your head. "I made dinner. It's on the stove."

"Oh," Minho freezes for a second.

"You ate at the restaurant?"

"I had to. My options were pass out or risk food poisoning and I really don't want to pass out."

"Okay, that's fine." You give him a soft smile before making your way to the kitchen.

You grab a bowl and put some of the rice in it, making sure to get one of the eggs and putting it on top. You put the food in the microwave above the stove. You suddenly feel something on your shoulder. You turn your head to find Minho's head resting on your shoulder, his chin slightly diffing in.

"You made my favorite." He hums quietly.

"I didn't feel like cooking a full thing and we still had some rice from last night so, quick dinner." You're not sure why you're downplaying the fried rice. One of the reasons why you made it is because it is his favorite.

"Ah," Minho opens his mouth and waits for you to put some rice in it. You grab the serving spoon and take a bit of rice before putting it in Minho's mouth.

Beep, beep

You grab your food out of the microwave just as Minho grabs his own bowl and starts filling it with the rice.

"You don't have to eat because I'm eating."

"I'm eating because it's good and I'm still hungry." He says quickly. You know he feels bad that you went through the trouble of cooking and he already ate, so you drop it.

You walk to the small dining room and sit at one of the table settings you made earlier.

A few minutes later, Minho joins you, sitting across from you in the other setting. Both of you eat in silence, which isn't abnormal for the two of you. Both of you will often just sit in silence together, perfectly content with just being next to each other.

"I know you're tired but did you want to watch some TV before bed?" You ask suddenly.

Ever since the beach trip, you've felt distant from Minho. Or rather, you feel as if he's been distant from you. It's been almost three weeks but you've never felt farther away from him even though you were the closest any two humans could be without crawling into each other's skin. Technically speaking.

"Yeah, that'd be nice actually. My body is tired, but I don't think I can fall asleep right now." He yawns. You know that's almost definitely a lie. He could probably fall asleep in his bowl right now. And maybe you're a bit selfish, willing to steal any moment you can with Minho, but you don't care.

"Okay, we can keep watching that show we started last time."

***

The two of you sit on the couch, the cats moved to your respective bedrooms so they can sleep while you two watch TV. Minho is leaned all the way back into the couch, his left arm draped over your shoulder, his hand resting on your butt. Your head rests on his chest. You're listening to the beating of his heart and breathing more than you are the drama. His heart is beating at a calm, steady pace, his breathing even. You're sure he's fallen asleep. You don't move out of fear of waking him up and because you like being near him like this. You can fall asleep yourself if you're not careful.

You're not even paying attention to what's happening on the screen. It's some romance about friends and that's pretty much all you know. You and Minho only started watching it after Hyunjin harassed the two of you into starting it so he could have someone to talk to about it.

You start blinking suddenly when the TV pauses. You furrow your brows and sit up only to find Minho with the remote. You didn't even feel him move.

"Bedtime?" You ask yawning.

"No--I mean yes, but I was thinking we could talk first," Minho says, sitting up, his body becoming visibly stiff.

ba-dump

"Talk about what?" Your voice is small and wavering. The idea of someone asking to talk is anxiety-inducing enough, the fact that Minho said it is killing you. Nearly 3 weeks after you slept together. After watching the drama you were just watching. You can't help by jump to conclusions.

"We," Minho shifts towards you a bit, his dark brown eyes staring directly into yours. The last time you two made eye contact like this, you two were otherwise preoccupied in a motel room. "We never talked about what happened during the beach trip."

ba-dump, ba-dump

"We don't have to, we're both tired and it's late." You say quickly, not fully ready for this conversation.

"Y/n, if I don't talk about this tonight, I'm not going to get any sleep again." He says softly.

ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump

Your heart feels like it's going to burst out of your chest in anticipation. You try to swallow, but there is a dry lump in your throat. You're not sure why you're scared. It's Minho, your best friend. Your other half. He would never do anything to hurt you.

"Fine, for the sake of your sleep schedule, let's talk about it." You respond softly, resting your hand on his knee. His eyes fall to your hand for a second as he stares, contemplating, like he's trying to figure out what to say.

ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dum

“What... what if— How about we treat it...like...a one-night stand.” His voice cracks as he suddenly makes eye contact with you again. He wasn't asking, he was commanding it. Almost pleading for it.

Crack

The cracking sound is so muffled, that you're not sure it's coming from inside the apartment complex or from your own heart. Your breathing quickens as your heart pounds louder in your chest and your lungs can't expand to their full capacity. You feel exactly like you did when you were drowning.

Let's treat this like a one-night stand.

You are drowning. An overwhelming wave of sadness hits you just like the wave that almost completely overtook you. Right, you wish it had. Tears flood your eyes, not even threatening you come out by pricking the back of your eyes. The corner of your lips pulling down, shaking as you try your best to stop the overwhelming emotion. To stop from completely losing your shit, but you're failing.

“H-how..." Your voice wavers, almost breathless as you try to process what Minho said. "How can you tell me to treat this like a one-night stand when you know how I feel about you?”

Minho looks down again at your hand, unable to look you in the eyes now that a stream of tears pour out of them.

"Y/n, we shouldn't have done it in the first place. We crossed a boundary we shouldn't have crossed because we were both scared." His hand reaches down to his knee. You retract your hand at his sudden touch. It felt like being touched by fire and for the first time in your life, it felt like a bad thing.

"So—so you muster up the courage to tell me that. Not do whatever the fuck this is!" You shout. You're no longer in control of your emotions.

"I tried, believe me, I tried to bring this up."

"No the fuck you didn't. Not once since we got back from our trip did you ever pull me to the side to try to talk."

"I was scared!" He cries out, tears falling from his face.

"Of course you were scared!" You quickly stand up from the couch. "You're always scared! You let fear run your life. You're scared of me leaving so you don't act on your feelings for me. You're scared of change so you don't take full advantage of your talents. You're scared because I almost died so you sleep with me! You're scared of letting yourself be happy so you are sabotaging whatever this is."

"It's reasonable to be scared."

"Not like this. This is ridiculous. You're scared of love--or maybe you're scared of loving me--but none of this is reasonable."

"I'm not scared of loving you." He takes a step towards you and you quickly take a step back. Everything about him hurts, even his comforting touch.

"Really? Then say it," You spit, your anger taking over your sadness.

"Y/n, you know I love you. I don't have to say it."

"Yes, you do!"

"Why?"

"That shouldn't be a question. I shouldn't have to stand here and beg you to love me back! It shouldn't be difficult for you to say it! Even—no, especially if you're scared! Because I am terrified. But I can still say that I love you. I can say that I'm in love with you. Truly, madly, deeply, foolishly in love with you. And I hate it. I hate myself for it. I'm starting to hate you for it.

"Don't say that. Y/n don't say that. You don't mean that." Again, he walks towards you and, again, you back up.

"I do mean it. Do you know how much simpler my life would be if I just liked you platonically? Significantly simpler. I wouldn't compare every man I meet to you. You wouldn't be occupying every waking thought. I could be...happy."

"We were happy. We didn't have to complicate things. Can't this be enough?"

"It was until you opened your mouth! I just--" You take a deep breath, looking at Minho one more time. The anger quickly leaves your body, being replaced by overwhelming sadness. "I'm just really, really, really tired. I can't keep doing this to myself."

"Y/n--"

"No, no I can't. I won't. I can't keep letting you hurt me like this. This isn't good for us. This isn't good for me. I need—" You ramble as you run your hands through your hair. You pace around the living room trying to figure out what to do while Minho tries to get your attention.

Without really thinking, you walk to your room, locking the door behind you. You lean your back against the door and slide down. Hugging your knees to your chest, you let out a sob so loud, that you aren't even aware that you couldn't be that loud.

Moonshine wakes up from her nap and makes her way to you, purring. Your hand finds her fur and you stroke it softly as you sniffle. You sit there for what feels like hours, stroking Moonshine. The only sound that can he hear is your sniffling and Minhos's pleads on the other side of your door.

Finally having enough, you stand up and walk straight to your closet. You pull out a couple of suitcases and Moonshine's carrier. You put all the suitcases on your bed and start packing your things. You make sure to pack your school things and clothes for work. You're not even paying attention to anything else you're grabbing. You just need to leave. You can't keep putting yourself through this torture of the push and pull with Minho. You have to put yourself first.

You make sure to grab some of Moonshine’s toys and snacks. You can get food for her later. She won’t eat until late morning anyway, giving you enough time to find something. Once you finish packing your bags, you scoop Moonshine up and put her in her carrier. Looking over your room again, you’re satisfied you have everything you need for a few weeks. Before picking up your bags and leaving your room, you yank off the necklace you’re wearing. You stare at your closed fist hand for a second before slowly opening it to reveal the scallop shell from the beach trip. You made it into a necklace and kept it close. As a souvenir of your trip. A souvenir that will forever be tainted with a bitter.

You finally grab your bags, and Moonshine, and head out, only to run into a confused Minho. His eyes are bloodshot and his face is puffy.

“Where are you going?” He panics.

“I can’t stay here anymore,” You answer quietly.

“It’s late. Where are you going to go?”

“I’ll manage.”

“Y/n,”

You walk past Minho and go straight for the door. You stop dead in your tracks when you feel his hand wrap around your wrist. Minho drops his head on your back, tightening his grip.

“Y/n, please don’t go. I’m sorry. You can hate me and be mad at me all you want but please don’t leave me.” He whispers.

“You know what’s funny?” You scoff, “You were so scared of me leaving but this shit right here is what made me leave. You pushed me away. This is on you. ” 

"Please," You pull your arm out of Minho’s grip before quickly leaving him alone in the apartment.

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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