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asumofwords · 1 year

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Modern!Dark!Aemond - Divorce AU - Oneshot

Til Death Do Us Part

SUMMARY: You and Aemond had been married for years, but he was not the man you thought he was. Discovering his affair with his secretary Alys Rivers, you had decided that enough was enough. You packed up your things in secret and left, leaving divorce papers on the table, and booked a one way ticket out of the country.

What will happen when Aemond goes to the ends of the earth to find you and make you his again?

WARNINGS: This fic is 18+. Readers discretion is advised. She/her pronouns, stalking, abuse, toxic relationships, infidelity, divorce, NONCON, manipulation, gaslighting, marriage, rough sex, choking, hitting, punching, yandere, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, forced orgasm, violence, daddy kink, dacryphilia, head injury.

PAIRINGS: Modern!Dark!Aemond x reader

Word count: 10.2k

NOTES: Well, well, well.... Here we are. You have all been so feral waiting for this to drop and I am honestly so excited to see you all crawling about in my walls after. Probably shouldn't have to say this by now but will for new folks, READ THE TAGS, this is a DARK!FIC. There is no fluff or happiness lmao. This has been so fucking fun to write hehehe.... Anyway.... Without further adieu... Enjoy ;) <3

The soft hissing of the kettle took you away from the book you had been reading, nestled against one of the many windows in the small cottage you now owned.

Taking the kettle from the stove, you poured the boiled water over your tea leaves, watching the herbal mix swirl in the strainer.

The soft aroma of chamomile and peppermint wafted from the cup and you inhaled deeply, leaning against the kitchen bench as you waited for it to steep, no use going back to your book nook until the tea was ready to take with you.

The leaves from the pine trees in the forest outside had turned a deep green, the cold chill of winter having rolled through the valley of the quaint village you lived in early this year. Condensation rose from earth as the sun heated the mildew on the grass, the smokey illusion seeping from the forest floor.

It was different to the city. No more were the days of craning your head up to look at the crawling skyline of buildings, the sound of traffic, or yelling of people on the street. No more did you hear cars blare their horns or music, or the melodic sounds of people chattering in the late hours of the night or fights between lovers from apartments surrounding.

Now, the most noise you heard was the occasional storm that rolled through the valley, or the deer that wondered the pasture at the back of your property.

You could remember the first night you heard them, such a different and unfamiliar screeching that had set your hair on edge, eyes darting about to each window and front door as you raced around the house to make sure they were locked.

They always were.

You were meticulous that way. Always vigilant, always ready.

But in reality, you shouldn’t still be on edge.

It had been months since you left.

Almost an entire year since you packed your things and left the papers and your ring on the table for him to find. And what’s more, there would be no way for him to find you out here.

Not that he would even try.

You hoped.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t love him, or loved him; the lines were still blurred there. But Aemond had broken you in ways you never knew he could.

The lies, the secrecy, and then, her.

You remembered when you had first met Alys; a work event Aemond brought you along to. The pretty wife and happy family image did wonders for his company and the press, so he often brought you along on his arm, smiles and grins for the cameras, whispers of starting a family or trying for one, until you were out of view.

But that time had been different.

That time, something had changed.

You had known about Alys Rivers for a while, a new hire going months back. A woman from no notable name, nor background, a start up of her own, worked hard to get where she was, or at least, that’s what you had first thought when Aemond had described her to you; his new secretary hire.

An older woman, not one a wife would usually find as a threat.

It’s almost always the younger ones. Older men seeking out their youth between the thighs of a barely twenty-something, whilst their wives are none the wiser, or perhaps knowing and too resigned to care, birthing them children at home as their marriage dissolves into nothing but a loveless legal contract.

But this was different.

She hadn’t come to introduce herself at first, not at all, and that’s what you found the strangest.

Alys Rivers, a few inches taller than you, with pale skin and bright green eyes, had stood in the far end of the hired venue, sipping a glass of red wine, perfectly manicured maroon nails tapping on the glass, whilst she tucked an ebony strand of hair behind her ear.

You had felt the heat of her gaze immediately, your eyes meeting hers, and yet, she didn’t look away, didn’t smile softly, walk over and introduce herself as any other woman would have. She just stared. Right into your very soul. It had sent shivers down your spine, and you knew, in that moment, that something was wrong.

Off.

Aemond had done his rounds with his private investors, higher employees, friends, if you could call them that, and press alike, all whilst you stuck by his side, smiling pretty and responding with shallow answers that didn’t give too much or too little for them to talk about later.

You hated those stuffy events, men and women alike always trying to get closer to you in order to get to Aemond, who was a fortress to begin with. Some people often commented or made joking remarks at how surprised they were that you had married him. That you had managed to thaw the Ice Man himself, that he was even capable of such things, and you would always laugh and make jokes back in good nature, smile never reaching your eyes.

But really, he was amazing when you were first married. Doting, loving, loyal, and always there, though that was sometimes overbearing. There was of course the little things, the teeny red flags that you ignored more often than not, rose tinted glasses and all that, but you had been young and in love and crazy about him, and he had been the same about you.

But as the years rolled by, and the two of you grew, you also both changed. The business expanded rapidly with the death of his father Viserys, and Aemond became more preoccupied with that legacy, most of the empire being passed along to him, and not his older brother Aegon, who had no desire to work and would rather live off his inherited wealth with drugs and weekend benders surrounded by lusty women. Occasionally men too.

And then when Alys came into the picture, it was like a switch had been flicked.

As though the Aemond you had thought you knew, never existed at all.

Alys had sauntered her way over half way through the event to introduce herself, all saccharine smile with razor sharp teeth that looked ready to sink into your flesh. She was polite, pleasant, overly pleasant, too sweet, too complimentary, and it felt off. Like an overripe peach, or wine that had been left open for a week too long.

Your husband had been stiff at your side, hand flexing around the tumbler of whiskey the entire time she stood beside him, too close to be friendly, and most certainly far too close for a boss and his secretary. And really, you should have listened to your instincts then and there, for they screamed that something was amiss.

But Aemond had a way of getting into your head, making you believe every word he said, push away your own instincts, and question yourself over, and over.

And that’s what you had done.

Questioned yourself, over and over.

Yet one day, something in the back of your head nagged at you too loudly. Aemond had not answering his personal number, calls you could understand, but usually he responded to his texts. But that day he hadn't. And so you called the office, where he spent most of his time these days, which had become a frustrating new normal, as was the depletion of your small weekends away, romantic dinners, spontaneous days out together.

The marriage felt stagnant, stale, and you knew in your gut the true reason for it. His desk had rang for too many rings too long. And when Alys had finally answered, she sounded rushed, caught unawares, awkward.

That was all it had took.

You had asked if he had his lunch yet, that you were nearby in the city and wondering if you should drop by, knowing that he had been spending later evenings in the office ‘working’, or weekend trips away to Harrenhal for business there, his secretary tagging along.

Alys informed you that he had just ate, but the way she said it was with that same overly sweetness that set your brain afire.

It was almost smug.

And so, without even hesitating, like you had for months on end, you picked up your keys and left, heading straight to his office.

Your heart had raced the entire time you drove there, weaving through traffic, just knowing, knowing, something, deep in your gut was not right.

And you were right.

Because there they were, caught like two deers in the headlights as you had swung the door open, Alys, seated on his desk, skirt pushed up to her hips, one shoe lost to the floor as Aemond thrusted into her parted legs.

They hadn’t even heard you at first.

But she saw you.

And she had smiled.

You will always remember his face.

He had turned and looked at you with shock at first, but then it turned to anger, as though you were at fault for this, as though you had ruined his fun, as though you should have known better, scar on his cheek crinkling with the sneer he threw your way.

You left in a flurry of hot tears, immediately calling your lawyer.

You drove straight to your best friend Sara’s house, and crashed at hers for the week, ignoring the constant buzz of calls and texts, and yes, even emails from your husband. Aemond in his desperation to reach out to you, even drove to Sara’s house, demanding if you were there. You had hid in the bathroom, holding your breath in the tub, shaking with anger and heartbreak and fighting the urge to go out there, to yell at him, scream at him, or more dangerous still, forgive him.

Then you were gone, speaking to your solicitor to get everything set into motion, friends loyally supporting your decision. You left the divorce papers on the dining room table, packed your bags and left whilst he was at the office, giving him no chance to manipulate you into staying, no chance for argument, and no chance for your heart to win over, taking your essentials and sentimental possessions with you.

You stood in your home, looking at everything inside, at all the memories that you shared in there. From when you had first looked at the house, to buying it, to Aemond's insistence on christening every single surface in the house to make it yours, all giggles and smiles, pleasure and joy.

But gone were those days, gone was the joy and the giggles, the pleasure and the smiles, and so with shaky fingers, you ripped off your wedding ring, finger feeling bare in its absence as you left it atop the pages.

At first you were just hoping to get some space to clear your head and not be manipulated by your husbands lies and very convincing words again. You knew that if you gave him a chance, you would be stuck. You knew that if he pleaded, if he begged, if he smiled with his signature smirk, it would be your downfall. He knew you far too intimately now. He knew how to get you to bend to his will. So you booked the nearest ticket you could and raced to the airport, not once looking back.

You had just landed in Paris when you turned your phone back on, watching the screen as it lit up, where you were immediately bombarded with multiple missed calls from him and a barrage of texts that became more, and more aggressive as time went on.

It was your fault really, to poke the dragon the way you had.

And yet you still did it, answering one of his frantic calls to hear the cool and icy tone of Aemond, barely keeping it together on the other end.

“Where are you?” He had asked, voice deep and quiet, small growl on the end; a tell tale sign that he was furious.

The airport was loud around you, people moving to their next gates, or stopping to move to the small cafes to eat, others continuing onwards towards the baggage claim to collect their luggage.

“It's none of your business.” You had responded, tone clipped, irritation and anger surging through you at his audacity to even be mad.

“I think it’s plenty my business. You’re my wife.”

“Not anymore. Have your solicitor talk to mine. Sign the papers, Aemond.”

You heard him breathe heavily into the speaker, “If you think for one fucking second that I’m going to-“

You pressed the red button on your phone and hung up on him, shoving your phone into your back pocket as you moved lazily through the queue to get through customs.

By the time you had gotten out the other end, you checked your phone again.

There was only one text on the screen that had sent panic blaring through your mind.

‘See you soon.’

You hadn’t planned to run, you hadn’t even planned to leave the country indefinitely, you just needed an out, but Aemond’s aggression had extended it, triggering your flight instincts. You didn’t believe that he would hurt you, but this new anger had frightened you. This new Aemond frightened you.

But Aemond Targaryen’s anger was not new to you either, his possessiveness was not new, and at one point you had even found it endearing. But after years of being married to what you thought was the man of your dreams, the other shoe dropped, and the true man was revealed.

So you made quick work of it, going to an international bank, taking every single cent out of your combined account.

You knew he wouldn’t struggle financially from such a loss, having another seperate offshore account, or two, or five if you were really counting. Not to mention his inheritance which sat in a vault in Budapest.

Comes with being descended from royalty.

But in the end, you knew you needed every dollar if you were going to get away from him and make it stick.

So you got a new passport, ID, and hitchhiked your way across several countries until you finally settled, finding a cottage, nestled in the woods, a solid thirty minute drive from town, buying it from the local farmer in cash. No contract. No deed. Just cash and his silence.

And that’s where you had been ever since.

You took your tea to the window, settling against the nook, pillows and blankets strewn all over as you curled inside. You looked out at the trees, the sun slowly setting for the day.

It was cold in your cottage, not too cold, but cold enough. Winter had come early that year, and you had used more logs of wood for the fire than you had thought you would have needed.

It was strange, to be so far away from the life you used to live. To be so removed from the world. But in some ways it was good. You had no social media, having deactivated every single one you had, and you also had barely any use of your phone unless you turned on the broadband, which was shaky at best and if it was windy, the reception would cut out.

The only people you really spoke to anymore was the people who lived in the town just a ways away, and Sara, who called every Sunday like clockwork, well actually like clockwork, you needed to turn the broadband on for Skype to work on the laptop you had taken with you.

In the almost year you had been gone, you had taught yourself how to make your own clothes, pickle and preserve foods, and even became quite handy at baking the odd loaf of bread here and there. The farmers whose cottage it was previously had left his belongings behind, taking only his clothes and things of memory with him.

There were books almost everywhere, the old man having been an avid reader, and amongst the books had been one on horticulture, and so slowly but surely, you had grown your own self sustaining vegetable patch. It wasn’t perfect, but it prevented you from going into town too often, and also allowed you to not seek employment just yet.

That would come later when Sara would tell you that Aemond would sign the papers.

But every Sunday was the same.

“Any news?” You asked her that morning, Sara had frowned, pixelated to hell, but the frown still evident on your screen.

“Nope. Nothing. The asshole won’t sign them still. Solicitor can’t even find him to talk.”

You sighed, wiping hands down your face angrily.

Why was he doing this?

Why wouldn’t he just let you go?

Something about it made your skin crawl.

Those messages, those calls.

The ‘See you soon’ text.

Something had snapped in Aemond, and you didn’t like it one bit.

Your only consolation was that you were far away with a new name, new life, hidden amongst rolling green hills and large forests.

“How’s Cregan?” You changed the subject, and Sara had given you an update on everyones lives, her brothers first, and his new girlfriend. Then to all your other friends who you longed to see again.

But not yet, you just needed a little more time and for your husband to agree to the divorce.

When the sun had lowered in the sky, you moved to turn the lights in the house on, throwing some logs into the fire and lighting them with a match. You made sure to thank the Gods for solar panels.

The warmth of the fire heated up the small cottage quickly, and you made quick work of reheating a lamb soup you made a few days earlier, crisp homemade bread on the side with butter from a nearby dairy farmer.

It was hearty and warm, and filled you up, having a soporific affect on you. You had a glass of red wine as a treat afterwards, bought from the local markets and found yourself sinking deeper into fatigue.

It was a routine of sort, wake, eat, read, work on the garden or house, eat, drink, sleep. It was comfortable, and it eased much of your worries, always keeping busy. You didn’t realise how stressed and anxious the life you used to live made you.

The week went by, much the same.

The same routine.

The same walls, and floors, and rooms.

Same window nook, and cups of tea, and warming your hands by the fire.

By the time Saturday rolled by, you had been elated, excited even, to get out and look at the homemade wares and farm grown produce. To see the people you had grown to care about and make as your quiet friends. Still at arms length of course with your fake new life, but you let them in more than you had intended to.

It was never a large market, merely the other people who lived in or around the tiny town. But it was cozy, sweet, and some faces were more familiar than others. You looked forward to seeing them all and catching up on their weeks, especially an older lady named Lucy, who crocheted and knitted some of the most wonderful things. She had kind grey eyes, and would always insist on you taking something from her for free.

Today was no different.

“You make this most difficult, hen.” The grey haired woman frowned, coming round the side of her small stall to shove a large, grey knitted jumper into your arms, the same colour as her eyes.

You shook your head, “Lucy, please, at least let me give you some money for it.” Grabbing the soft wool that was pressed against your chest.

The older lady smirked, hands up in the air in submission, “It’s too late,” Her voice was thick with a Scottish accent, “You best be taking that, girly. It’ll be a cold winter that comes round this year, I feel it in my bones already.”

You sighed, “Then let me give you some money for it, and you can buy some more wool to make yourself some warm socks.” Fishing around in your bag to find some cash to give her.

Lucy crossed her arms across her chest, “Gonny no dae that. If you give me any money I’ll be right offended by you, I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug. It’s a gift, you dafty.”

You shook your head and chuckled, there was no point in fighting.

You would never win anyway.

“Fine.” You acquiesced, “But I’m coming to drop you some muffins and scones when I make them next week.”

The older lady sat down heavily in her chair behind the stall, “I expect nothing less. Will you bring some strawberries from yer plot? Dang caterpillars got into mine and tore them to shreds.”

“I’ll bring you a mix of goodies from my wonderful garden that has no caterpillars.” You teased, rubbing the woollen jumper between your fingers, “Thanks again, Lucy, but you’re a menace.”

“Got to be when yer married to my husband.” Lucy joked, but it made your heart race instead.

You swallowed thickly and smiled shakily at the woman, nodding before bidding her a goodbye.

You walked through the rest of the market for a while, getting some fresh honey from a local farmer, some potatoes for a stew later on, and even buying yourself a new handmade mug.

It was a bustling affair, small children giggling with their parents, and older members of town who had been born and raised there walking about and stopping to talk with their life long companions.

Bright bunches of flowers caught your attention, and you moved over to look at them all.

Native flowers of all kinds were bunched together; roses, petunias, anything that could survive the chillier climate. And as you looked at a peculiar shaped purple flower, hooded like a bell, the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

A shiver rolled down your spine, and instinctually you turned, eyes darting around the rest of the market, looking at the sea of people, young and old, walking with their wares, chatting amongst each other or smiling.

Not one had that familiar head of silver hair.

You breathed out a sigh, shaking your head.

It’s fine.

You’re fine.

You’re safe.

It’s just your anxiety. It was probably just Lucy’s comment that set you on edge.

Not even Sara truly knew where you were.

You looked back at the flowers again, eyes on the purple ones that were nestled amongst pea flowers and other pinks and yellows.

“Devils Helmut.” The man told you, noting your interest in its peculiar shape, “Monkshood to others, or Wolfsbane to those witchy ones.” His eyes looked at you intently, “You ok? Yer lookin’ a bit peely wally.”

He was tall, older, but not by much, with deep brown eyes and wavy brunette hair that came to his shoulders, tucked behind his ears. His jaw was sharp, a nice shadow across the skin from his stubble, with lips that were full and pulled upwards slightly. He had broad shoulders and large hands, tiny freckles dusting the pale skin as he watched you.

He was relatively new to town like you, but not really. Duncan, you remembered, had moved back to the little town after his father had passed away, inheriting the plot of land that was next to yours. Lucy had spilled the tea, over a cup of tea, about him with you a few months before, telling you that he was an eligible bachelor with a wink, trying to set the two of you up.

And although he was undeniably attractive, you worried for the implications of getting to know him, and eventually having to tell him about your marriage, and why you were truly where you were. You doubted the man would want anything to do with your baggage.

“I’m okay, just a bit cold. How have you been?” You asked him, the feeling of being watched prickling at the back of your head.

“Fairly good.” Duncan rolled his r deeply, same low Scottish timbre as Lucy, distracting you from the rancid feeling that curled in your gut, “The winter’s come early this year.”

Duncan leant a hand against the table, and you noted that there was no ring on his finger.

Stop that.

“That’s what Lucy said too. Can definitely feel it.”

Duncan looked pointedly at the jumper still in your hands, “And what’s she given you this time?”

Unfolding the jumper in your arms you held it up, holding it against yourself to show him, “A new jumper. Will be perfect when it gets colder. Wish she’d stop throwing things at me and not letting me pay though.”

Duncan laughed, a deep chortle that rumbled his chest and warmed your cheeks, “That’s Lucy for you. She does the same to me too, the auld blether.”

You laughed heartily, “We should go in doubles to the markets when you’re not selling. There’s strength in numbers, you know.”

Oh gods. Why did you say that?

A soft smile pulled on his lips, “You don’t know Lucy well enough if you think we’d stand a chance against her. She’d bowl us over without even blinking.”

Another laugh, and a shrug, "Worth the try.”

Duncan’s eyes scanned your face softly before he stepped forward, grabbing the bunch of flowers you had been looking at from their little vase, holding them out towards you, “Here.”

You looked at the flowers in his hands and frowned, “What?”

“Take them.” He insisted, “You looked right keen on the Monkshood, mean bloody flower that one. Be careful you don’t touch it too much.”

You shook your head, tucking your jumper into your bag, “I can’t possibly-“

“-Please. I insist.”

You reached forward to take the flowers from him hesitantly, feeling guilt bubble inside of you. What was with all these people and their generosity? It was going to give you an aneurism.

Your fingers brushed against his, and the warmth carried up your arm and straight into your chest. Duncan must have felt it too, because a soft blush creeped across his freckled cheeks.

Holding the bunch of flowers to your chest you smiled.

“You don’t have any pets at home? Any cats that might try and make a snack of the flowers?” Duncan pointed to the Monkshood.

You shook your head, “No it’s just me.”

His eyes danced as he nodded, and you felt as if you had answered his second question without him even having to ask.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

A large hand waved the thanks away, “Dinnae worry about it. Though, I have heard good things about yer baking.”

“Have you now? Has Lucy spilt all my secrets?”

A smirk, “Not yer secrets no. But yer baking, yes.”

Feeling bold, you smirked back, “I could make you something, if you’d like." You held up the flowers in show, "As a thanks, of course.”

“What can you make?”

“Anything you want.” You said quieter, swallowing the anticipation that rose in your throat.

“Can you make a good scone?”

You scoffed, “Easiest of things to bake.”

Duncan mirrored your stance, pursing his lips, “Guess I’ll have to be the judge of that then. Do you have enough wood for yer fire? Snow will be falling soon, and we dinnae want you chittering in the cold.”

“I’ve got some left, but I know I’ll probably have to go over to Douglas and Lucy’s to get some more.”

The brown haired man paused in thought, tongue in cheek before he spun around, crouching down to rifle through a bag beneath his table, pulling out a pen and paper.

Duncan placed the small notebook in front of you.

“How about this, you give me yer number, and I’ll come round and bring you some more wood, maybe chop some for the fire as well, and you can thank me by making some scones. I can bring some of Elsie’s jam with me.” Duncan looked up at you, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

And although he had spoken with confidence, it was clear that he was just as nervous as you.

It was hard to fight the heat that creeped up your neck. Excitement and anticipation coursing through you, the feeling of being desired making you giddy.

It had been so long.

You bit your bottom lip softly nodding, leaning down to write your home phone number, making a note to plug the old thing in, praying that it still works, as well as your address into the notebook.

Duncan smiled softly, taking it back and looked at the note, “You didn’t have to write down yer address, I know you bought Macnair’s property a while back, we're practically neighbours. Not accounting for the acres between us.”

“Oh.” You laughed softly, “Sorry, I didn’t know you knew him.”

“Hard to not know everyone here, especially when you grew up around them all. Plus, hard to not notice the bonnie lass who moved here. Quite the stir you created.”

You shook your head and blushed again, Gods damn him, “Not my intention.”

You both stood shyly for a moment, staring at each other, a warm pleasant tension building around the two of you.

Duncan cleared his throat, and clapped his hands together softly, “Right. Well, It’s a dreich day, so you best be off before the rain comes again.” He held the notebook up in his hand and shook it lightly, “You’ll be seeing me soon then. I’ll be coming to collect some of those scones.”

You grinned, and held the flowers gently in show again, “I hope they’re up to your standards. Thanks again for the flowers. I’ll see you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

The blaring ring of the Skype call filled your cottage. You raced from the kitchen to the desk, answering Sara’s call with a bright smile.

“Sar!” You smiled, pulling out your chair to sit in it, looking at your best friends face. But her excitement did not match yours, and instead, her face filled you with dread.

“Sar, what’s wrong?”

You watched as Sara visibly swallowed, leaning towards her computer, “Aemond’s left the country.”

Chills ran over your body.

“Oh, he must have a conference in Rome or Budapest. He always used to-“

“-No.” Sara interrupted you, and her voice instilled a rising sense of fear that you had been battling with for months, “Y/n, I don’t think that’s it. He’s already been gone over a week. That’s why the solicitor couldn’t talk to him him.”

Your heart raced in your chest, blood rushing in your ears.

Sara continued as you felt the walls around you move closer, “That’s why the solicitor couldn’t get in contact with him. They went to his office. Apparently he’s on leave, not even Alys was there.”

You licked your lips, swallowing dryly, “What do I do? Fuck, Sara, what do I do?”

“Don’t panic. He doesn’t know where you are! Hell, I don’t even know where you are.”

“I know, I know. But still…” You paused, breathing shallowly, “Sara, I went to the markets yesterday, and it was… Off. Something was off… And I just couldn’t shake this feeling that I was being watched.” You felt like you were going to be sick.

Sara’s face fell, head turning to talk to someone else quietly in the room.

“Who’s that?”

“Just Cregan. He’s talking to Helaena.”

You scoffed sadly, “Helaena won’t know anything. She didn’t even know about Alys.”

Sara shrugged, image becoming pixelated, “I-…-ow…-bu-….-o….-harm…-“

“Sar, you’re cutting up.”

You swore, swatting the computer lightly as her image froze.

Fucking broadband. Gods, maybe you should invest in getting a satellite dish here. At least you could get some cable tv if you did.

“-come to you.” Sara unfroze, the pixels evening out to an almost smooth image.

You groaned, “I didn’t catch any of that. Fucking internet cut out.”

“Can you get a satellite or something like a normal person and not be such a hermit? I said, why don’t I come to you.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you, Sar. Besides, he wouldn’t hurt me, not that he’d ever find me. He’s just an asshole. Probably curse me out and tell me I’m making it all up.”

Sara’s face dropped again, and you wished she was pixelated so you couldn’t see it, the image making your skin crawl, “Y/n. Theres something you don’t know.”

You straightened in your chair, “Is Alys pregnant?”

“No. She’s too old for that. Something else. Something Jacaerys told Cregan one night years ago. I didn’t want to tell you then, you guys were so in love, and I had never seen you so happy. I just,” She sighed, “I didn’t even really believe it until recently.”

“Sar, you’re scaring me.”

She shook her head, “I know, I know. But as you said, he doesn’t know where you are, and he won’t find you. But Y/n, Aemond isn’t who we think he is.”

“Are you about to tell me he’s some sort of international spy, or politician in hiding?” You tried to joke, but the joke fell flat.

Sara’s head looked to the side before back at the screen, “When Aemond was young, he had a temper. A real bad one. Never got along with his nephews.” She took a steadying breath, “When Lucerys was thirteen and Aemond was nineteen, he attacked him. It was probably years of pent up anger after the accident, a fight had been brewing, but he didn’t stop. No-one could stop him, Y/n. It was bad. Really bad.”

Your stomach roiled.

“Y/n, Lucerys nearly died.”

Your mouth gaped open as you could scarcely get air into your lungs.

Oh gods.

“Breathe.” Sara cooed through the computer, “Girl, you need to breathe.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, hand rubbing your chest, “What the fuck?”

“I know. I know. But they were young, I mean, Aemond was a lot older, but still. They were boys. And Aemond would never do anything like that to you. Not that he will ever find you.”

You counted your breaths as Sara spoke to you, trying to get the room to stop spinning.

“Y/n, y-….I-…t wi-…ll be fine-…. I-… ca-…n…-“

You growled at your screen, standing up in anger and frustration, anxiety pulling cruelly at your gut. You paced in front of the desk as you waited for your friend to come back into view.

When she de-pixelated and came back, you leant heavily against the table.

“You got your phone with you?” You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels.

“Yea.” Sara lifted her phone to the screen.

“Okay, I’m going to give you my address. When do you think you can come?”

A cry flew from your lips.

The cottage was bathed in complete darkness, generator slowing to halt outside, the soft hum of electricity disappearing. Your heart lurched into your throat as you stood in the darkness. Skype screen blaring a ‘Lost Connection’ notification at you.

You took shaky breaths, trying to calm yourself.

This wasn’t unusual.

Just last month a squirrel had been trying to burrow into the electrical box for warmth and chewed through a cable. Luckily for you, Douglas had come over to fix up the wiring and helped you on your way. But with all that had been happening, it gave you a right scare.

Your heart did not slow in your chest, nor did you calm with the way your ears pricked at any noise inside or out. You stumbled through the darkness of the cottage to the kitchen, searching beneath the sink for your emergency torch.

Grasping it in your hand, you clicked it on, lone beam of light shining a path for you through the house to the front door. You crept slowly forward, the sound of your loud breathing in your ear as you got to the door.

You would have to go out and flip the switches manually, and make sure the damned squirrel wasn’t back.

Throwing on your wellies, you unlocked the four deadlocks you had installed on your door one by one until you opened it wide, the valley blanketed in the darkness of the night, clouds shrouding the moon and stars. The shadows of the forest around your house made you more on edge, every trunk or branch causing your eyes to linger that moment longer to decipher what it was.

But they were just that.

Trees.

You trudged around the side of the cottage, shoes crunching on the ground below as you made your way to the back. The icy air nipped at your skin, and you tugged the jumper that Lucy had knitted tightly around you.

They were right, winter had come early this year.

You would have to thank her later.

When you reached the electrical box, you tugged it open, shining the torch on all the different switches inside.

The main switch was flicked off.

For fucks sake.

The broadband must have blown it out.

The cottage was old, and the electricals likely older. But the solar panel were new, and you had a sneaking suspicion that perhaps the different generations of technology were clashing. You briefly wondered how costly it would be to have someone come to rewire the house for you.

As you looked at all the other switches, making sure they all looked in order, and the wires coming from out the back were all in tact, you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

You never liked coming out here in the dark.

It was scary, and although there was nothing out here to hurt you, unless there was a miracle lone pack of wolves that came strolling by, which you knew could never happen, since Lucy had told you wolves were hunted to extinction there. So it was just you, the trees and the moon.

The sound of a twig snapping in the woods made you spin on your heel, shining the torch out at the trees in vain. The light didn’t reach very far, illuminating just the front row of trunks, leaving the rest to be bathed in its dense darkness. Your heart thumped in your chest as your eyes scanned the woods.

It’s fine.

It’s nothing.

I’ve just worked myself up.

Gods.

It was probably just a deer or something.

You remembered the day you woke up to a whole herd of deer outside your cottage one morning, quietly munching on the grass outside. You had nearly screamed with joy, but kept the excitement inside, tiptoeing to sit in your window nook and watch them graze.

Holding the box open with one hand, you popped the small torch in your mouth with the other, holding it in your teeth as you flicked all the switches off, and then back on again.

You looked to the house.

Still dark.

You groaned, and did it again.

Again, nothing.

No hum of the motor kicking back on.

“Third times a charm.” You mumbled with the torch in your teeth, flicking the power back on.

The steady buzz of electricity came back, and the lights from the house illuminated a path for you back inside. You all but slammed the box shut and sped back inside to the safety of your cottage, spinning quickly to shut the door behind you, rapidly locking it tight with the deadlocks.

One, two, three, four.

You sighed a breath of relief.

See? Nothing. Just country electricals and wild deer.

You toed off your gumboots, hanging your keys on the hook beside the door.

You needed a glass of wine.

That would do it, a glass of wine and maybe some baking.

“Took me a while to find you.”

Ice ran down your back. Your heart leapt out of your throat as you spun on your feet, fear crashing over you.

You blinked.

And there he was.

Standing in your lounge room.

He had found you.

Aemond’s jaw ticked.

You were so in shock, so terrified that you couldn’t move, entirely rooted to the floor in place as your breath was caught in your throat. Your mouth opened as you tried to suck in air, head feeling light, but you couldn’t even speak. Couldn’t even let the scream out that clawed at the back of your throat.

He had found you.

Aemond took a step towards you, dressed in all black, his long silver hair pulled away from his face in a braid, “I told you, I would see you soon.”

Instincts kicked in, and like a startled deer, you ran. Tearing down the short hallway to get to your room, where you knew the old shot gun Macnair had left behind was hiding beneath the bed. But Aemond was quicker, and you heard his loud steps before you felt him, grabbing you from behind as you kicked your legs back and screamed, trying to get out of his grip.

“Did you really fucking think you could get away from me?” He grunted, holding you impossibly tight, “That I’d ever let you go? It was just by chance that I saw you today, I didn’t even think to go to the markets.” He explained, and tears prickled in your eyes.

You were right, you were being watched.

“But there you were. The Gods brought us back together again, Y/n. I was about to give up. But it was fate that our paths crossed again. It was meant to be.”

You thrashed against him, his arm locking around your chest and neck tightly. You turned your head and bit down on his arm, hard, tasting blood fill your mouth. Aemond hissed, tearing himself from your teeth as he dropped you to the ground, knees collapsing beneath you as you scrambled along the floor to get away.

“Fucking bitch.”

Pain rippled up your scalp as Aemond gripped you by your hair, throwing you back against the floor. Your head hit the wooden boards, eyes sluggishly blinking as the room spun and nausea curled in your stomach.

Your husband stood over you, sneering.

“You’ve been hiding out here for months whilst I’ve been looking for you. Having an affair with that other man who gave you the flowers.” Duncan, “Almost paid him a visit, but that can be done later. Spent all this time searching for my ungrateful cunt of a wife, but you didn’t hide well enough.”

His lone eye narrowed as he looked down at you, lips pulled back in a sneer. Strands of his silver hair had fallen from his braid and puffed with each breath as he stared down at you, chest rising and falling roughly.

You scrambled backwards, nails digging into the wood as he stalked forward, hunting you like prey.

“Money talks. And I have a lot of money. Which you would know, since you cleared out our joined account. Very naughty, Y/n.”

“Fuck you. Get out!” You screamed, kicking a leg at him.

Aemond laughed, dodging your kick, “I’m not going anywhere. You’re my wife.”

“I’m not your fucking wife, you psycho.”

“No?” Aemond paused, cocking his head, “Then why are we still on the marriage register? Hm?”

Your back hit the side of the bed, hands swiping underneath desperately in search as you kicked at him again. Aemond swatted your legs away with ease, smirking down at you meanly. But he couldn’t block your kicks forever, and your foot hit him squarely in his groin.

Aemond grunted, doubling over in pain.

You took your chance, desperate to escape as you crawled forward, away from the bed, dizzy and horrified, all instincts telling you to run, not fight.

Besides, you didn’t even know how to use the gun, let alone if it was even loaded.

You stood, side stepping him as you moved to run out the bedroom door.

Your head hit the wooden frame with a crack, smashed into it by Aemond’s large hand. Stars bloomed behind your eyes, pain shooting through your skull. You tried to catch yourself on the door, your nails digging painfully into the wood as you cried, the hand gripping your hair, pulling you back into the room.

Aemond threw you onto the bed, looming over you, “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment? To see you again? How hard it was to find you? And you’re acting like such an ungrateful little bitch.”

You grunted and cried, trying to get away, desperate to get yourself off the bed as he pushed you back on it.

“Get off me!”

“But a husband needs his wife,” He leered down at you, pupil wide, “I’ve been dying without you, Y/n. I’ve been bereft ever since you left me. Abandoning me like a coward.” Aemond shook his head, “You could never really leave me. You’re mine.”

“I hate you!” You screamed at him.

Aemond smiled down at you softly, stilling for a moment. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked at him, “No you don’t.”

His smile dropped from his face in an instant, shadow cast over his scarred cheek as he looked at you blankly, “And if you do, I’ll make you love me again.”

His hands slid down your body, and began to tear at your pants, busting the button from your jeans, sending it flying across the room, then ripping the zipper apart.

Sobs flew from your lips as you pushed up at him, desperate to make him stop, fear escalating within you, “Stop! Aemond. Stop!”

Your fingers tangled in the bed sheets as you kicked at him, knuckles going white as you tried to drag yourself up and away from him on the bed, nails pulling sharply as you used every ounce of strength you had left. The room still spun as your head throbbed with every movement or jolt of your body.

Long fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your jeans and tugged them and your underwear down your legs as you struggled and cried and clawed at him.

“Been a while since you played this game with me.” Aemond chuckled darkly, “Do you remember when you used to pretend you didn’t want it? When you’d say ‘Stop! Please, no!’ and cum around my cock all coy?”

You blinked, memories erupting inside your brain. But those days were consensual, that was fun, something he had even introduced you to. But now? This? This was different. This was not a game. This was not play.

You kicked at his chest, heel clipping his shoulder sharply, a grunt falling from his lips. Aemond slapped a leg away, other hand gripping your thigh tightly. You cried out in pain as his fingers dug into your skin meanly, pain rippling up it.

Your hands tried to pry his fingers away, but the glinting of his wedding ring caught your attention.

He was still wearing it.

He ripped open his belt, and terror struck inside of you.

“Aemond, no. Please. Stop! Aemond stop, please!”

But all the man did was smile down at you crudely, “Gods, I’ve missed your begging. So sweet and small when you’d get on your knees and beg for my cock.” He pulled his length from his slacks, hard and angry, a drop of arousal smeared across his tip, “You’re so fucking beautiful. And you’re mine. My wife.”

You felt like you were going to throw up, thrashing beneath him as he crawled atop of you.

You dug your nails into his arms, trying to swipe at his face and neck, your teeth bared, ready to bite down onto whatever limb came into their collision course.

“Stop.” He growled, slotting himself between your thighs, overpowering you completely.

You sobbed beneath him, begging him to stop, screaming at him to get off, grunting as you twisted beneath the sheets, your head still spinning with small stars that continued to multiply in front of your eyes, the corners of your vision shrouded in black.

In one final attempt, you went for what you knew would hurt him, what you knew would stop him, slow him down.

Give you time.

And so with the heel of your hand, you thrust it upwards into his face, connecting with his prosthetic eye, clipping the painful scar tissue that would sometimes wake him in the middle of the night in tears.

Aemond’s head withdrew with a sharp and pained cry, one palm pushing into his eye socket as he tried to calm the agony. You pushed against his shoulders, trying to move out from underneath, but Aemond was quicker, and his enraged gaze landed on you. The hand that had been pushing into his face, curled into a tight fist.

Your head whipped to the side, and a cool blanket of darkness washed over you.

You laid in it for a while, with no thoughts, no terror, no fear, just that darkness that curled around you quietly.

It was nice for a moment, almost comforting.

Just the feeling of not being there.

But then the blanket faded away, and pain bloomed in your face, iron on your tongue as you blinked in confusion.

There was movement and a weight atop you. Something sliding against your core.

And then, pain.

You whined, hands shoving against the chest above you as Aemond speared you on his length, thrusting sharply and dryly into you as he reached his hilt, the tip of his cock pushing painfully against your cervix.

You gagged quietly, head throbbing as the room spun, your arms weakly pushing at him, feeling as though they were made out of lead. Each movement of your body sent pain rippling through your skull, and bile into your mouth.

“Take it like a good wife.” Aemond growled, pulling his length out of you before thrusting it back in sharply.

You cried loudly, pain spreading through your core as you felt him tear at your walls.

He was always larger, much larger than anyone you had had before, and when you were together, he would have to spend ample time to prepare you, but you would always be wet to help.

The only wetness you felt now, was from your own blood.

Aemond began a harsh and rough pace, with long sharp thrusts that jolted you up the bed on his length, cries of pain bleeding from your lips as you cried, turning your head away from him.

You still tried to push at his chest weakly, nails scratching at him through the dark shirt he wore, but it was no use.

He grunted above you, picking up his pace, wrapping his hands around your neck for leverage. He squeezed, not tightly, but as a warning, and your eyes shot open to look up at him, hands clawing at his to try and get him to release you. The more you dug your nails into his skin, the more he tightened his hands until you were wheezing beneath him.

“This doesn’t have to be difficult, you just need to give in, baby. Come on. Be a good girl for me. Be a good girl for daddy.” He groaned, one hand leaving your neck to pull up the soft woollen jumper to reveal your breasts to the room.

Your nipples stiffened in the chill of the air, fireplace not having been lit yet and the cool of the early winter air seeping into the cabin.

“Fuck.” He hissed, hand coming to squeeze your breast roughly, pinching a stiffened peak between his fingers, rolling it through forefinger and thumb.

You whined in protest, hand trying to move his away.

Aemond lightly slapped your face, “Behave.” He accentuated with a hard thrust, another warning, sending pain shooting through your gut, “I’ll even let you cum. Be a good girl for me and I’ll let you cum, hm? Is that what my pretty wife wants?”

You shook your head weakly, tears overspilling from your eyes and down your cheeks, a sob working its way through your lips.

Aemond bent down and licked the trail of tears from your cheek, “Fuck.” He moaned, thrusting into you faster, “Forgot how fucking tight you were. Gods. Gonna have to make up for time lost aren’t we? You’ve been such” Thrust, “A naughty” Thrust “Girl.” Thrust.

Your core clenched around him instinctually, Aemond adjusting his hips upwards so that his length would brush against the soft spongey spot within. His pace faltered, and a smirk pulled at his lips. Warmth spread through your gut.

“There she is.”

“No. Please, stop. Aemond, please. I’m begging you.” You wailed, hands gripping his arms as your nails clawed into him.

Your husband smirked down at you, “Not so cocky now that you’re mine again, huh? Where’s that bratty attitude from on the phone?”

Aemond continued to fuck at you from the new angle, one hand on your neck in a promise, the other pulling a limp leg up his hip, revulsion barreling through you as you found yourself growing wet from the angle, your body betraying you.

The sound of your slick was loud in the room, adding to your shame.

Aemond only tutted at you, “See? Only I can make you feel like this. Duncan would never be able to make you cum the way I do. No-one can. You’re mine. This pussy, is mine. And what I do with it is for me alone.”

The light in the room was too bright above you, making your head spin even more, the clapping of his hips against yours loud in your ears as his thrusts rocked your head and body backwards, a familiar coil beginning to wind in your stomach.

It was all too much.

Even the smell of him overwhelmed you.

“Can feel you squeezing my cock. You gonna cum for me, baby?” He cooed, mocking you.

“P-Please st-op, Aemond. It h-hurts.” You sobbed.

“Oh it hurts does it?” The sneer was back, Aemond’s head leant down beside your ear as he pushed to his limit, your walls gripping him tightly, and whispered, “Now you know how it felt when you left me.”

You weeped.

“I hope it fucking hurts.” Aemond leant back, fucking into you with new found vigour, sitting back on his haunches as he pulled your hips onto him, the coil getting tighter and tighter.

It was horrifying, to find your body finding pleasure from his assault, but you couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard you tried. He knew you too well. Knew your body too intimately. Knew everything that made you tick, twitch, or moan. He had spent hours, years, learning how to expertly map out your body, and he knew your body better than you did.

A slick thumb pressed down on your bud.

“Come on, baby, cum for me. Wanna feel you cum on me. If you cum for me, I’ll forgive you, okay? You cum for me and I’ll know you love me back. Come on, be a good girl, cum for me.”

His thumb swirled roughly against your bud, your hands tightening around him, unsure if you were pulling him toward you or pushing him away. Your mind hazy and confused, the world having been turned upside down.

You came with a cry, back arching off the bed as Aemond praised you through it, fucking into you harder and faster. Warmth spread through your limbs, your eyes scrunched tightly shut, bright lights behind them as your skull throbbed.

Aemond fucked your limp body, thumb leaving your clit as he held your hips with both hands, drilling into your wetness with a painful force, pulling agonising pleasure from you.

You weeped below him, keeping your eyes shut as you just wished for it to be over. For him to just finish.

“Gonna fill you up. Gonna fill my pretty wife up so we can have a baby. Hm, doesn’t that sound nice? Start a family.”

You sobbed loudly, hiding your face in your hands as you turned your head away from him, the taste of blood still thick on your tongue from where he had struck you.

His pace became sloppy, thrusts uneven as he began to lose himself to pleasure.

“Fuck!” He hissed, thrusting into you sharply as he came, hot ropes of cum coating your walls as he thrusted weakly through his climax.

You chest stuttered with sobs, head spinning, but exhaustion taking over.

You were so tired.

So tired.

You just wanted to sleep.

Wanted to fade away back to that darkness again. Back to nothing.

“Shh,” Aemond hushed you from above, dipping his head to press a gentle kiss against your wet cheek and forehead, “It’s okay now. I’m here. It’s okay.”

You sobbed even harder.

Aemond pulled out of you with a hiss, a small whimper falling from your own lips as you felt pain strum through your brutalised walls. He flopped back onto the bed, dragging your body up beside him as though you weighed nothing, black blooming before your eyes as you knocked your head against the pillow, a wave of sickness rising inside.

But you didn't fight it.

There was no point.

No escape.

Nowhere to go.

Nowhere to hide.

You couldn’t run, even if you wanted to.

And so you laid in his arms as he held you whilst you cried, curling into him as the tears kept coming. He cooed at you softly, rubbing a gentle hand up and down your arm in a way he always used to.

It was so stomach turning, the different sides of Aemond, and if it wasn’t for the concussion that you certainly had, his actions alone would send your head spinning.

Because this Aemond, the soft Aemond, was the one you had known. The one who used to hold you to him, and whisper words of praise. But that was a long time ago, and the Aemond who held you now was a different man.

Someone you didn’t even know.

This Aemond was not the man you married.

Aemond pressed another kiss to the top of your head again, “It’s okay, cry it out. I know you’re sorry. And it’s okay. I'll forgive you. Alys was a mistake, but she’s gone now. She won’t be a problem anymore, okay? It’s just you and me.”

You sobbed louder, and he pulled you closer to him, tangling his legs with yours.

“I know, baby." He cooed sweetly, but it was insincere, hollow, cold, "I’ve missed you too. I love you so much, Y/n." Aemond exhaled hotly at the top. ofyour head before his voice fell to barely a whisper, "So much, you don’t know what I’m willing to do to keep you with me.”

A chill rolled down your spine.

You knew now what he was willing to do.

And with the added news of what he did to Lucerys, you wouldn’t put it past him to harm anyone that came between you again.

A wave of mourning crashed over you.

Mourning your past.

Mourning your future.

And mourning the person that you would become with him. There was no escaping this.

Him.

You inhaled his scent deeply.

He still smelt as he always did, but there was a lingering smell of pine in his clothes. The pines from the woods surrounding your home.

How long had he been out there?

How long had he been waiting?

“You’ll love me again, I know it. I’ll never leave you again. We will be happy together. Here.”

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes wide against his chest.

“You’ve chosen the best spot, baby. You always were clever, we can start our family here. Somewhere quiet, no-one around. Just you and me, and eventually the children. Like it was meant to be.”

A shiver rolled through you.

“Marrying you was the best decision I made in my life.” He kissed the top of your head again, smoothing your hair down with his hand lovingly, “I’ll make you see.”

You laid there as you cried, unsure of what to do, unsure of what to say. Having no real power over the situation, having no real way to escape or get out. If not for Aemond's sheer will, the four dead locks on the door assured it as well. He hummed softly as he let you cry, pain crashing through you in waves.

Aemond paused in thought, his thumb coming beneath your chin as he tilted your head to look up at him.

Your vision was fuzzy from the tears, and the edges were seeped in black, but you could see it. The crazed look in his eye as he gazed down at you with a hungry possessiveness.

“Do you remember our vows?” He asked, watching as you blinked at him, your lip wobbling as you tried to stop the endless stream of sobs that worked their way up your throat.

His thumb brushed gently over your bottom lip, a sharp sting sparking in it as his finger brushed over the split.

And then he smiled at you, in the same way that he had the day of your wedding, lips pulled wide, teeth revealed.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you looked at him.

The man you had loved, the man you had married and planned a future with.

The man you had been on the run from.

His mouth parted again, smile becoming softer.

“Til death do us part.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the general tag list please let me know on the general taglist post here :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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kumkaniudaku · 7 days

Text

Stay A While

Summary: Terry's back home and trying to make amends with an old friend.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,944

Part: 1 of ??

Warnings and Notes: None. This one's a safe for work slow burn. Enjoy.

Drunk minds speak sober thoughts. Or at least Terry hoped that was the case as his thumb hovered over a familiar name in his contact list. A dingey hole in the wall became a haven on the tail end of his journey back to some sense of normalcy. He was down a bike, a truck, and a piece of his heart but continued to press on until fatigue forced him to stop for rest. The owner, a small woman with a big voice noticed his rough appearance as he passed by on foot and invited him inside to duck an incoming storm. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, even when he repeated that he had ground to make up before nightfall.

When she asked if he needed help he politely and foolishly declined all but a glass of brown liquor and access to an outlet. That same whiskey and a sprinkle of Motown-era love songs playing on a rickety jukebox had broken a grown man down enough to reach out to the one person who might still be willing to take him in. Even if only for a night.

Searching for extra courage, Terry took another sip of lukewarm Jack Daniels before tapping his phone screen. The line rang once, twice, and then a third time before a short pause signaled the call had connected.

The silence on the other him was loud, forcing him to speak up first.

“Hello?”

Fading voices and shuffling in the background were the only indicators of a presence on the other line, making Terry feel embarrassed for starting a call in the first place.

He cleared his throat before speaking again. “Hey, look… if now’s not a good time I ca -”

“Terrence? Did you mean to call me?”

“I, uh…yeah. I did. I’m sorry. I should’ve -”

“Are you okay? It’s loud wherever you are. You good? You hurt?”

“I could tell you if you would give me a chance to answer,” he chuckled. His amusement made her kiss her teeth in annoyance. “I’m okay. I’m a little banged up, but I’ve seen worse. I’m somewhere between Charlotte and home. Stopped in this spot for a drink and somewhere to sleep for the night.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

Terry took another swig of whiskey and sighed. “Nothing, really. I was hoping I could see you, though. You know, when I make it back tomorrow.”

“You staying anywhere when you get here?”

“Not yet, but I’ll find somewhere. I know how to survive.”

“TJ…,” More silence. Thick. Long. Full of tension and years of baggage that they had yet to discuss. The other voice sighed before answering. “Come on by. I’ll have the back room ready for you. You need toiletries?”

Terry’s face softened into a near smile at the invitation. “Yes ma’am. A meal would be nice, too.”

“Okay. I’ll have you something if you can get here before dark tomorrow. Please be safe, Terrence. I mean it.”

Before he could attempt to extend the conversation, the call ended, leaving her contact photo in full view. Terry allowed a slow grin to spread across his face just as a short text with her address came across the screen.

“Another round, brother?”

Terry looked up from his phone to find an expectant expression on the bartender’s face. He shook his head and reached for the wallet in his back pocket. “Nah, but thanks, man. Think I’m gonna close my tab, actually. I gotta see about a bus ticket before it’s too late.”

“If you heading to her,” the man started, pointing toward Terry’s phone. “you need a cut, man. A lineup. Something. You look like what you been through. If you got $20, I can get you right.” A slight frown and knitted eyebrows in response made the bartender shoot his hands up in surrender. “I don’t want no problems, big dog. I just know what it’s like to see your lady after a hard time. Let me help you.”

A quick look into the black mirror of his cell phone screen forced Terry to reckon with his appearance. He couldn’t remember his last haircut and his mustache was starting to dwarf his upper lip. He sighed and reached into his back pocket.

“Extra $10 and you can get the face too?”

“Extra $20 and I’ll get you where you going myself.”

------

City noise had long been replaced by suburban quiet by the time Terry’s destination came into view. His friend back at the bar was true to his word and arranged transport that turned a 6-hour journey into 2 hours of UGK on the speakers, a little privacy, and AC on the hottest summer day so far.

After exchanging pleasantries and cash, Terry stepped out of the cramped Honda onto the smooth driveway pavement. Every house, street sign, and front yard looked exactly as he remembered them, bringing mixed emotions forward.

The short journey to her front step felt arduous for his tired legs, but he persisted until he was mere inches from the front door. He lifted his arms and prepared to knock but stopped short when it swung open unexpectedly.

“Knocking when I can hear those heavy feet from a mile away is courteous but unnecessary.”

He chuckled and rubbed a hand down the back of his head. “Good to see you too, Treece.”

Patrice greeted him with a half smile as she studied his appearance from toe to head. A few years and a little extra weight had done wonders. She settled on his eyes and softened her gaze. “You look good, TJ. Come in here and cool off.”

Stepping inside her home felt like walking into a time capsule. He’d spent so many after-school days and summer nights here that it felt like his childhood home not too far up the road. Photos from yesteryear lined the walls on the way to the living room where nothing had changed except new furniture and a bigger television on the TV stand. The heat from the oven mixing with a slight chill from the air conditioning unit kept the room comfortable enough to nap if he could settle for more than a few minutes.

Terry’s eyes drifted from his surroundings to Patrice as she led the way. Long braids covered the back of a high school t-shirt and jean shorts. Her brown skin had become golden under the North Carolina sun, making her glow a little in the morning light. Grown woman weight had settled onto her once thin frame, transforming her into a more of a mini version of her older sister than before. All the changes he’d imagined when he had a free second were ions better in person.

Patrice gestured toward the leather recliner in the corner without speaking, inviting him to take a seat and settle in on her way to the stove.

They existed without words for a few minutes while she took fresh biscuits out of the oven and arranged them next to sausage patties and an omelet on one of her good porcelain plates. Terry trained his attention on his shoes, trying and failing to find a way to break the ice. He wanted to apologize. Confess his wrongs and desires in one grand speech designed to erase nearly ten years of absence. But the words wouldn’t form in his throat and the moment came and went.

Balancing a dinner tray in one hand and orange juice in the other, Patrice carefully made her way to his spot in the living room. Seeing her kind eyes calmed his nerves and set his chest ablaze.

“No more pork for you, right? This is chicken sausage from my Nana and them in the country.” She asked as she sat the tray on his lap.

He nodded in appreciation. “Yeah. You remembered?”

“You ain’t been gone that long, TJ. I still know who you are and what you like. That orange juice don’t have pulp in it either.”

“Thank you,” he said sheepishly before hanging his head to pray.

“Any time.”

A re-run of A Different World became the only sound in the room outside of an occasional content sigh from Terry as he tore through his breakfast. Patrice watched in amusement until her broad smile caught his attention. He slowed in embarrassment and returned the stare long enough to induce loud laughter from both of them.

“I look crazy, huh?”

“No,” she assured with a sweet smile. “You just look like you're happy to be back home, is all. Fayetteville missed you.”

“All of Fayetteville or someone specific?”

“Don’t start, TJ.”

“I’m only asking a question.” He answered without making eye contact. “You know you’re the only one who still calls me that?”

“What? TJ? That’s your name.”

“Yeah, but…you know. It’s not 2010 anymore.”

Patrice shrugged and settled deeper into the couch. “Considering that’s about the last time I saw you in the flesh, I guess it stuck for me. But, I can call you Terrence if you like.”

“Nah, TJ’s good. I like it. From you…specifically.”

The pair exchanged equally bashful looks, both too shy to say anything that would incriminate themselves. Instead, they watched the television in silence and stole looks until a commercial break took away their distraction.

Without speaking, Terry began to gather dishes and stand, prompting Patrice to rush over before he could move too far.

“Treece, I can do it.”

“I know,” she answered in a sing-song voice while sliding the tray from his grasp. “But I haven’t done this for you in a while. Let me love on you a little bit.”

His eyes tracked her every move until she was behind him at the kitchen sink. Boyish nervousness made him twiddle his thumbs until words came rushing out like water from a burst pipe as he sat back down.

“So, how you doing? How you been?”

“I’ve been okay. Mostly work and no play, you know. Thankful to be out of that classroom for a few weeks and get some peace.”

“Yeah? Kids driving you crazy?”

“Baby, the kids, their parents, and my parents are driving me to drink,” she laughed. “I can’t catch a break.”

“What about your man? He driving you crazy?”

Patrice scoffed and shook her head. Her mama and his mama talked too much. Terry chewed his bottom lip, hoping he didn’t offend.

“We…aren’t together anymore. Hard to build a family together when he’s off building one across town.”

Terry craned his neck around the armchair to make sympathetic eye contact. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that part. I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s alright. I gave it to God a long time ago. Maybe I’m not meant to be anybody’s wife yet.”

“Maybe you weren’t meant to be his wife.”

“Well, it’s not like any suitors are knocking down my door for my hand in marriage.”

“Probably because you keep swinging it open before anybody gets a chance.”

Patrice rolled her eyes and flashed her middle finger in Terry’s direction. “Ha-ha. I see you didn’t lose your jokes at Lejeune. Only your ability to keep in touch.”

Her retort left a shallow cut in Terry’s ego, making him turn his attention back to the television. He knew he’d broken a decades-old promise and that atoning for his sins would take time. But he also knew that, at any moment, Patrice could send him back into the world with nothing more than a full belly and a swift kick in the ass. He had to tread lightly.

Taking the lull in conversation as his opportunity to lick his wounds in private, Terry stood and gathered his belongings in both hands. Patrice watched him from her spot with an apologetic expression.

“You don’t have to leave. Got a couple errands to run so it’ll be quiet in here. Take the whole couch if you want.”

“That’s alright, but thank you. Figure I can make myself useful and cut the yard. Maybe unpack some of this stuff if that’s alright with you. You got a mower?”

“Yeah, it’s back there,” she answered, gesturing toward the backyard with her head. “Will you be here when I get back?”

Sensing the hidden motivation behind her question, Terry dropped his bag to the ground and made his way into the kitchen. Cautiously, he leaned down to press a short kiss to Patrice’s forehead before using his index finger to tilt her head upward and meet his eyeline. “Yes. I promise. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Her eyes fluttered closed for a half second while she nodded her understanding. A wave of relief made the hair on her arms stand at attention but she quickly bit back any urge to engage further.

“You looked tired when you got in,” Patrice started, turning her back to Terry to conceal her flustered face. “I cleared Junior’s old bed back there. It’s a little small but sturdy. The sheets are fresh. Let me know if you need more blankets. I like it cold at night.”

“I’ll survive, girl. I’ve slept in worse places than a full-sized bed. Thank you.”

A split second of hesitation kept their eyes glued to one another until Terry ended the stalemate by backing out of the room and disappearing down the hallway.

Patrice took his absence as an opportunity to compose herself. Busy hands and racing thoughts fueled a cleaning marathon until tasks that had long fallen to the bottom of her to-do list were crossed off.

For hours they co-existed without many words exchanged. Occasionally, Patrice would steal glances at Terry while he meticulously tended to the lawn and bushes. When he could, Terry made a point to brush up against her when he walked past and agree with each of her many suggestions. Being in her space was enough for him and he dared not upset the natural harmony.

By the time dinner rolled around, they had found a groove. A quiet dinner led to an even quieter cleanup shift and quick good nights exchanged after watching Jeopardy together.

Terry left Patrice to her own devices while he fought to acclimate to such cushy surroundings. Try as he might, he couldn’t get used to the soft mattress below him or the near-frigid temperature in the house. Tossing and turning left him unsatisfied. The walls felt like they were converging. Flashbacks were turning into night sweats. He needed to escape.

Slowly, he slid out of bed and into a pair of slippers Patrice had gifted him earlier in the day. Measured steps help him sneak past her bed bedroom, out of the back door, and down into the backyard without causing a disturbance.

The early June air was balmy, clinging to the skin beneath his t-shirt. In the distance loud bass from someone’s car speaker vibrated until it was out of earshot. Dogs barked and howled to salute the moon worked in tandem with the faint smell of charcoal cooling from a night of backyard barbecues to remind him that he was far from the trouble of Shelby Springs.

It’d been a while since he could enjoy the night without being on high alert. The last week was a special kind of hell that he feared he could never shake. The urge to flee was beginning to creep in like the tide, threatening to wash away what little progress he’d made.

After a few deep breaths and mumbled prayer, Terry retreated to a porch swing to rest his weary legs. His shoulders relaxed as soon as his backside met the aged oak and, almost instantly, he felt safe enough to close his eyes. One deep breath turned into another until he was drifting into his first peaceful sleep in weeks.

Minutes passed like seconds. Thoughts slowed to a halt. His heartbeat regulated. Near bliss was upon him.

Inside, a single lamp flipped on to illuminate Patrice’s path as she searched the house for her guest. His room and bathroom had turned up empty results with almost no sign that he’d been there throughout the day. He wasn’t on the couch or in the kitchen raiding the fridge like she half expected. Worry had all but made her pass out until she heard the slight creak of her swing on the porch, making his head appear and disappear from the window above the sink.

She couldn’t fully open the door before Terry opened one eye and looked in her direction. She froze and he smiled.

“Feet not as heavy as you thought, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah. If I’d known you trade in a bed for this old thing I wouldn’t have wasted my time on laundry.”

“Hey, I built this old thing, remember?”

Patrice chuckled at the memory and pointed at the metal chain keeping the swing in place. “Damn near lost a finger behind it, too.”

“Would’ve been worth it knowing you were happy.” Patrice nervously shifted her weight from left to right under Terry’s intense gaze while he took his turn to look her over. Finally noticing her awkwardly standing between the screendoor, he motioned to the spot beside him. “Sit with me for a second.”

Patrice visibly wrestled with her decision but ultimately joined him. They maintained a careful distance, being sure to keep their individual limbs from connecting for fear that the mere sensation would set them ablaze. They played a childish game of cat and mouse until Patrice spoke.

“I was rude earlier,” Patrice confessed while fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt. Terry closed his heavy eyes to cure the burning sensation growing by the minute but acknowledged her statement with a confused grunt. She continued. “I never asked how you were doing. The whole thing about my ex sort of brought up old feelings.”

He frowned, hurt by her revelation. “You know I wasn’t trying to hurt you, right?”

“You never are. Same ol’ honorable TJ. Terry, I mean.”

“TJ for you.”

Again he popped one eye open and paired it with a grin that disamered Patrice and made her giggle like her high school self. The sound had him resolve that he’d spend his whole life making stupid faces if it meant she’d get some joy from them.

“You ready to tell me everything I missed or are you content with popping up on my porch? And how long do you plan to be here eating all my food, anyway?”

“I don’t think you wanna hear that,” he answered in an attempt to dodge the loaded question. Patrice persisted.

“No, I do. I see the tattoos and the fresh haircut. TJ turned into a man while he was gone. At least let me get to know this new person.”

“I grew up,” he sighed after some time. “Gained some. Lost a lot. Still trying to pick up the pieces.”

“What’d you lose?”

“Lately? Money. Family. Shit, my mind.”

“Why?”

“Mike died.” An abrupt interruption of an already complicated conversation brought forth a long pause. He waited for an interjection but found none, prompting him to offer more details. “He was killed. In jail. I tried to get him out and bring him home but I was too late.” Terry answered without making eye contact. Shame wouldn’t allow him to meet her potential judgment.

Patrice mentally cycled through names and faces until she realized the gravity of Terry’s statement. She reached out to breach their unspoken barrier and grabbed his hand which he accepted with no pushback.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” he answered before squeezing her hand and finally returning her eye contact. “I handled everything. It’s over for now. I’m here with you. We can focus on that.”

“Even though you keep skipping how long you’ll stay.”

Patrice’s warmth was starting to take a backseat to her cold nature. Old wounds had started to re-open and rebuild a wall they both thought they’d successfully hurdled. Despite her attempt to pull her hand out of his grasp, Terry stayed put. He eyed her for a moment, picking up on a thin veil of tears threatening to form at her water line.

She watched his normally steely blue-gray eyes soften into something that mirrored the softness he carried when they were kids. She couldn’t find the gumption to look away as he brought her knuckles up to his lips for a set of short kisses before looking back up at her. Pleading. Begging for any indication that she had softened her heart toward him.

“Treecey, I’m sorry. I don’t know how else to say it. You meant more to me than the way I left and I pray every day for a chance to make it right. We crossed a line that night and I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t handle that like a man should have. I’m sorry until I’m blue in the face.”

Sincerity was thick in his voice despite his low, even tone.

Patrice listened without a word. A single tear cascaded down her face despite her valiant attempts to keep her emotions at bay. She swore she’d never cry about Terrence Richmond again. But old habits die hard.

Terry used his free hand to swipe away that tear and the next one sitting at her lower lash line with the pad of his thumb.

“Say something,” he pleaded. “Anything. Tell me you hate me.”

“You know I don’t hate you,” she whispered, too choked up to continue without a deep breath. “I…I just feel like you took a piece of me with you, you know? And you never wrote back. You never called. You shut me out like we were never friends. We could’ve gone back to how things were.”

“I fucked that up.”

“I’m aware. But that doesn’t mean that I trust you won’t do it again. No matter how much I don’t hate you, I’m not eighteen anymore. My patience is thin. I can’t allow you to turn my world upside down again.”

“Hand to God I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Yeah. I hope so.” Though she whispered, Patrice’s words sliced through Terry like a hot knife through butter.

He hung his head in defeat as she pulled her hand from his grasp and made quick work of standing from the bench. Her footsteps retreated past him and to the back door until she paused.

He looked over his shoulder to find her eyes closed and chin pointed to the sky in contemplative silence. This was it. The final blow.

She took a deep breath and stared straight ahead. “Stay as long as you want. Junior’s living with his girlfriend now, so nobody’s coming to make you leave. Tomorrow, we can go get you some new clothes. I’m tired of looking at those raggedy t-shirts already.”

Terry took her jab in stride and gave her a half smile as a sign of compliance. “Yes ma’am. Thank you.”

“Mhm. Lock the door behind you when you come in.”

“Good night, Treecey.” His farewell came in an annoyingly sweet voice as a last-ditch effort to drag some loving words from her. Patrice stopped and gave him one more once over and a dismissive eye roll.

He waited for the ghost of a smile that disappeared before he could blink. She shook her head and took a step inside the house.

“Shut up, Terry. Go to bed.”

Terry hid his amusement until she was out of sight, leaving him alone to grin at how even her rebukes felt like love letters.

“Shut up,” he repeated to himself as he closed his eyes to doze again. “Hm. I’ll take it.”

TAGS: @planetblaque

Happy to tag whoever is interested.

#terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #rebel ridge #aaron pierre

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lecsainz · 1 year

Note

Hey Ra, I wanted to know if you could make a Charles x Reader smut where they're on a yacht with other drivers and he can't stop thinking about her body.

yacht experience

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) smut, charles doesn't care about others on the yacht, naughty jokes? minors dni!

authors note: the weeknd is helping me a lot with writing this one and i’m still upset that i couldn't get the ticket for his concert 😭 i don't know if that's what you wanted, but i hope you like

word count: 1.3k

Y/N found herself aboard a luxurious yacht, surrounded by some of the biggest names in motorsport. They were all laughing and joking, sipping cocktails and enjoying the sun on their faces.

Charles was there too, of course, and Y/N couldn't help but notice the way he kept stealing glances at her. She smiled to herself, knowing that they shared a special connection that went beyond the racing world.

As the afternoon wore on, the party began to heat up. The drivers were all dancing and letting loose, their competitive spirits forgotten for the day.

Y/N found herself caught up in the moment, moving to the beat of the music and laughing with her new friends. She could feel Charles's eyes on her, and she knew that he was enjoying the moment just as much as she was.

Suddenly, Y/N felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see Charles standing behind her, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Remember last night?" he whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "I can't stop thinking about you."

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew exactly what he was talking about - the passion and excitement they had shared in his hotel room.

She looked up into Charles's eyes, her own filled with a mix of desire and playfulness.

"I remember," she said, her voice low and sultry. "But we can't let the others see us like this."

Charles nodded in agreement, and they slipped away from the crowd and into one of the yacht's private cabins.

Once inside the cabin, Charles closed the door behind them and pulled Y/N into his arms. She could feel his heart racing against her chest, and she knew that he was just as excited as she was.

They kissed hungrily, their bodies pressed tightly together. Y/N could feel the heat of Charles's skin against hers, and she knew that she wanted him more than anything.

As they continued to kiss, Charles's hands began to roam over Y/N's body. He traced the curves of her hips, the smooth skin of her back, and the soft swell of her breasts.

Y/N moaned softly, her body responding to Charles's touch with a fierce sense of desire. She could feel the wetness building between her legs, and she knew that she needed him now.

With a sudden burst of energy, she pushed Charles onto the bed and climbed on top of him. He looked up at her with a mix of surprise and excitement, his eyes filled with desire.

Y/N began to kiss him again, her hands exploring his body with a sense of urgency. She could feel his hard cock pressing against her, and she knew that he wanted her just as badly as she wanted him.

As they continued to explore each other's bodies, Y/N felt a sense of freedom and abandon that she had never experienced before. She knew that what she had with Charles was special, and she was determined to make the most of it.

She could feel his hardness pressing against her, and she moaned softly into his mouth as he ground against her. His hands roamed over her body, his touch sending shivers down her spine. Y/N arched her back, pressing herself against him as he continued to explore her with his hands and mouth. She couldn't believe how much she wanted him, how much she needed him.

Their mouths moved together in a frenzy of desire, their tongues tangling as they explored each other with an insatiable hunger. Y/N could feel Charles' hard cock pressing against her, and she wanted nothing more than to feel him inside of her.

As they continued to kiss passionately, Charles moved his hands to the straps of Y/N's bikini top. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he used his teeth to pull down one of the straps, causing the fabric to slide off her shoulder.

Y/N gasped at the sensation, feeling a rush of heat between her legs. She tangled her hands in Charles' hair and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss as he continued to tease her with his mouth.

She reached down and began to unbutton Charles' shorts, her fingers trembling with excitement as she revealed more and more of his toned body. Charles groaned against her lips as she finally freed his hard cock, her hand wrapping around it and stroking him slowly.

"Dieu, tu es incroyable.*" Charles murmured. *god, you are amazing.

Y/N grinned, feeling emboldened by his praise. She continued to stroke him, feeling his hips buck against her hand as he grew harder and harder. She wanted him desperately, and she could tell that he wanted her just as badly.

She pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him, positioning herself so that his cock was pressed against her aching core. She began to grind against him, feeling the pleasure building inside her with every movement.

Charles' hands roamed over her body, pulling her closer as he groaned with pleasure. She could feel his fingers digging into her flesh, and she knew that he was close. She could feel her body building towards an intense climax, and with one final thrust from Charles, she exploded in a wave of pleasure.

As they came down from their high, Charles held Y/N close, their bodies still intertwined as they caught their breath.

Y/N's breath was heavy as she leaned in to kiss Charles again. "God, I can't get enough of you," she whispered, her hands tracing patterns over his chest.

Charles chuckled softly, pulling her in for another kiss. "You're insatiable, ma belle." he said, his french accent sending shivers down her spine.

Y/N smiled against his lips, "I can't help it. You make me feel so alive."

They continued to kiss and Charles lifted Y/N up and pinned her against the bed, her legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust into her, each movement sending waves of pleasure through her body. Their moans mingled together in the air, filling the room with the sounds of their passion.

Y/N dug her nails into Charles' back, urging him on as they moved together in a frenzy of desire. She leaned in, capturing his lips with hers once again as they both tumbled over the edge into ecstasy.

As Charles and Y/N emerged from the cabin, their disheveled appearances didn't go unnoticed by the other drivers. She blushed, feeling a little self-conscious, but Charles just grinned at her and took her hand.

"Looks like everyone knows our little secret." he said, with a wink.

Lando, who was sitting nearby, couldn't resist making a joke. "Well, well, well, look who finally decided to join us!" he exclaimed, earning chuckles from the other drivers.

Y/N blushed, feeling a little embarrassed, but Charles just laughed it off. "Sorry to keep you all waiting." he said, with a grin.

Max chimed in. "I think we all know what you two were up to in there." he said, winking.

Y/N and Charles exchanged a glance, both feeling a little sheepish but also secretly thrilled that their attraction was so obvious.

Daniel Ricciardo, always one for a pun, quipped, "Looks like you two were really getting into gear!"

The other drivers groaned, but Y/N couldn't help but laugh. It felt good to be around people who could make light of the situation and not judge her for her actions.

Charles put his arm around her, pulling her close. "Looks like we've got some explaining to do." he said, with a smile.

"I don't think we owe anyone an explanation." she said, running her fingers through his hair.

He chuckled, "You're right, let's just enjoy the moment."

Y/N nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for another passionate kiss. They were lost in their own world, not caring about anyone else around them.

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honeyawa · 8 months

Text

cherry kisses and bites +

( featuring ) gojo satoru.

"shoko, oh my god- shoko!"

you're panicking. your fingers are tapping on the table repetitively. your heart is going on a marathon. you're pacing around your room, waiting for shoko to pick up the phone after 5 continuous calls. the time reads 10:13 pm on a saturday night, which makes you wonder: what could she be doing that is so important over her best friend's possible death?

left to your own devices and the incessant notifications from your phone, notifying that both gojo satoru and geto suguru have messaged you, with the occasional calls that you stared at until they were gone.

it was safe to say your life took the "god gave the toughest fights to his strongest soldiers" a bit too hard after all this fiasco.

i mean, what led you to not check on who you were texting before sending an impressive amount of messages all about your-man-who-doesn't-know-he's-your-man (gojo)? the information being handled was of high value! all for it to be wasted in less than 3 minutes because you actually texted your-man-who-doesn't-know-he's-your-man (gojo) instead of your best friend, and now he knows that you like him!

with your phone across the room because you couldn't trust yourself not to peek at the hundreds of messages waiting to be read, all you could do was wait impatiently until shoko picks up. which turns out to be one of the hardest things you've done to the point where you wouldn't be surprised if you turned into a madman at the end of the night—

"confessing on text is crazy, but hey at least you got the job done, right?"

ah, she picked up.

"if you don't see me tomorrow," you pause, considering using all your money and buying plane tickets to travel across the country because you aren't a confrontational person, at all. "just know that i'm dead and i'm gone or i left the country."

"no you won't. plus, you don't even know if he likes you back or not because i know you haven't checked the messages."

"i don't need to know. i'm not—" you cut yourself off after processing what she first said when she picked up. "wait… how do you even know what happened?!"

"we will cross the bridge when we come to it," she responds, though not really responding to the question because she's avoiding it. "nuh uh! tell me how you know!" she's hiding something from you, and you know it. luckily, it doesn't take that long for you to connect the dots together. "were you on a call with them?"

she stays quiet.

aha! talk about accuracy. shoko never stays quiet unless she was found out. you couldn't believe it. your best friend, the one supposed to be with you through the highs and lows, through the thick and thin, was being friendly to the now turned enemy while you were on a crisis?!

"shoko…" cue a sniffle from you, "how could you do this to me?" (okay, maybe you were being a little dramatic, but they don't call you the drama queen for nothing!) you could tell she was starting to get annoyed by that sigh she just let out. it was just a matter of time until she snaps on the low key and gives you an order.

and that moment starts in 3…

2..

1..

"just shut the fuck up and check the messages from him." a beep comes shortly after.

…

oh, okay.

you're being fed straight to the sharks (or shark in your case). okay. wow. you just can't believe this. was she hoping for your downfall that much? ouch. with no one else left to be your emotional support, you have to give yourself courage to finally check what he sent you.

you take a huge gulp, and with shaky fingers, you slowly press on your texts.

unexpectedly, it felt like a giant rock was lifted off your back. the first messages you read didn't contain any "i'm sorry but i don't feel the same way" "you're like a sister to me" "i want to focus on myself" "i only see you as a friend" etc. it did, however, contain many variations of "OPICK UP THE PHONE" "i know you see this." "Text Me Back." texts.

one that did manage to catch your eye was the "watch out. i'm coming to your house right now." wait, he's not actually coming to your house right? (he most definitely is.)

you think your eyes are about to fall out of their sockets.

the feeling of relief that just came by? vanished. crushed. obliterated. annihilated. it feels like everything is back to step one, fuck. what could be better than calling your dear friend shoko once more and start ranting again? nothing. so you went ahead and just did that.

"the person you tried to reach is not available, your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system."

you think you might just cry.

to make matters worse, at that very moment, someone rang your doorbell. finger crossed and chanting "it's not satoru" over and over again, you clench your eyes and hope that it is indeed not gojo satoru.

but life seemed to have something against you, as you hear a very familiar voice talking to your mom, the voice of the one person you didn't want to see right now.

who is it? well, ladies, gentlemen, and non-binary folks, it appears to be gojo satoru! (is the world revolving around him now?)

oblivious to the quiet footsteps marching up the stairs, you mull about where to hide. maybe under your bed? no, that's too freaking obvious, plus you don't know if you would still fit after all those years. the closet seemed to be a fine choice until you realize that's the second most obvious place to hide too.

deep into thinking, you seem to have forgotten that the enemy is quite literally in your house, and in front of your bedroom door no less.

baam! your door swings open with enough force to send you flying and landing on your ass.

"why didn't you say anything!?" alright! straight to the point! and by shouting too!

"what the fuck do you mean?!" you shout back, matching his tone and everything in between, which is laced with confusion because you weren't really the one to catch things from the get-go.

"i mean," he starts and pauses, you notice that his chest is rising and falling at a quick pace. he must've ran here. (deep breaths gojo.) "why didn't you tell me that you liked me back for 4 whole years?"

"maybe because i didn't want to get rejected and throw away what we had?"

"well, why did you think you were going to get rejected?" he questioned. it seemed like he was implying that he does like you and this is not just a one-sided romance, seemed like..

but, did he say it outright? no. thus why you're still assuming he doesn't like you. you're no delusional bitch.

"um, maybe, just maybe, because you don't like me?" (you really got the dragging effect on the second maybe, it was perfect, from duration to pronunciation too.)

okay. why is he blankly looking at you now? as if you said the most out-of-pocket thing ever. why does it seem like everyone is judging you all of a sudden?!

"wait so, you mean, you still haven't gotten the hint yet?"

"does i look like a pirate on a treasure hunt for you to be talking about hints? might as well give me that uma costume and a map too." your arms are crossed, you're leaning to the left, and your right foot is repetitively tapping against the floor.

(gojo had a laughing fit when you did that.)

"sorry queen, i take that back." after every word, he giggles like a newborn when they see you embarrassing yourself in front of them. "what i meant to say was, i do like you back!"

"nuh uh."

"the fuck you mean 'nuh uh'?"

"wheres the camera at? i need to make sure i was photogenic during the whole video!"

"there is no camera. im hurt you think i would do something like this to you" his hands are covering the area where his heart was unless it decided to travel and go to his eyelids just for him to randomly feel the pulse at a place it shouldn't be.

"oh!" okay wait, so he did like you... you feel like everything is a fever dream right now, or that you're about to faint. you can't tell the difference.

"can i kiss you? you look so cute right now." hes currently squishing and pulling your cheeks so you can't say things properly. what you can do though, is bite (or try to) his hand the next time he goes in for an attack. ow!

"eat a cherry before."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝒩 𝑜 𝓉 𝑒 𝓈 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

gojo, did infact, eat a cherry

“its too early!!” yall known eachother since the womb and acted like a couple for 4 years. it speaks enough.

if you havent noticed by now, you are oblivious. so very much so it make sashisu want to throw you on a train track and watch you get ran over (affectionately)

you were actually studying for an upcoming exam until you decided to take a little 1 hour break! (it was originally a 15 minute break but tiktok flirted with you saur..)

your mother was actually leaving when gojo came so she wasnt there with experience all the shouting

you think she wouldve thought you guys broke up (you were never together) and wouldve bought you anything you wanted + ice cream

getos messages are still left unread. (next time you see him your gonna catch it on SITE)

408 notes · View notes

comicwritesstuff · 5 months

Note

okay this is so incredibly specific so please feel free to ignore BUT i’ve been wanting to read a fic for ages where the reader is Chase’s childhood best friend from Australia and she moves to New Jersey for a fresh start. She’s staying with Chase while she gets settled, and one day she comes to visit him at lunch at the hospital, where she ends up meeting House and he’s… intrigued by her 👀 either romantic or smut would be so very cool :^D <33 💐

YES. I LOVE THIS PROMPT IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG BUT IM FINISHED!!!

Gregory House x Fem!Chases bsf!Reader

Warnings: None really, just cussing and tooth rotting fluff >:) 3k+ words.

Chase's POV:

“Well I was just wondering if we could go out sometime, I think you're really-” My attention shifted as y/n's call lit up my phone, interrupting the conversation. It was a more pressing matter than pursuing a one-night stand.

“Excuse me for a moment.” I say walking away, the woman having an annoyed look on her face.

I answer the phone.

“Hello, y/n? Whats up”

“Chase! Long time no talk haha.”

“You called me yesterday.”

“Learn to take a joke, anyways, I have some exciting news for you.”

“I’m moving to New Jersey!!”

“Wait what? Really?”

“Yeah, I kinda forgot to tell you and i'm actually at the airport right now, so I hope you aren't busy tomorrow so you can pick me up.”

“Wow, um alright, yeah I can pick you up, do you have a place to stay?"

“Um…no…” I sigh, “Just stay at mine for now.”

“Don't even with the sigh i’ve known you my whole life you can put the nightly hookups on hold for your best friend.”

I smirk and shake my head, “Yeah yeah, I’ll see ya tomorrow y/n”

Y/N’s POV:

I smile as I hang up with Chase, grabbing my luggage and pulling it along the airport. Ahh yes, crying babies, rushed parents, annoying couples and that one insanely attractive person you see for a split second, I love the airport.

Glancing at my ticket I realize I might have to hurry to make it to the gate, speed walking I see a text from chase, “Have a safe flight.” Let's hope so.

Time skip (to lazy to write all the details about fucking airports)

Relaxing on a 21-hour flight proved challenging, especially with a toddler nearby. It was unclear whether the toddler would be a source of annoyance or just be tolerable. The flight just started. So to entertain myself I decide to do some digging about Chase's job, he brags about it all the time and the infamous Dr Gregory House. To be honest I thought Chase was gay for a little while with how much he talks about him. Still speculating.

The plane lifts off and I start my look, at first just looking up Gregory House, a surprising amount of things show up. An article titled, “Gregory House, Talented Doctor? Or a lying Narcissist?” Oh well that's a good first impression.

Scrolling down I see another article, “The world's greatest doctor, and his deepest secrets”

Now that's enticing. I click on it only to find out his deepest secrets, including using 3 in one shampoo and how his leg got hurt. I guess people hardly know anything about him. I click on the photos of him, there's only a couple, most of them blurry but to be honest he's pretty good looking from the photos I can see. I’d honestly be gay for him if I was Chase.

The toddler next to me starts giggling, I glance at her and notice her staring at a picture of House. She's kicking her feet too. That's so relatable.

For the rest of the flight I find some stuff about this guy named Taub, who somehow also figured out that he cheated on his wife which is why he had to quit. How did I find that out? I took a coding class in 8th grade. (I got lucky)

Lisa Cuddy the Dean of Medicine, unfortunately only good stuff about her, boring.

Remy Hadley, oddly, can't find anything on her.

Eric Foreman, his brothers in jail, fun.

And the others are just as boring. For the remainder of the flight, the toddler proved surprisingly chill. I passed the time by binge-watching random movies I had downloaded earlier

*Another time skip to plane landing*

Finally, 21 hours on a fucking plane is horrible.

I check my phone after I take it off airplane mode, seeing a text from chase a couple minutes ago.

“I’m at the airport, is your flight done?”

“Yep, wya.”

“I’m parked in the front.”

“That's specific”

“There's no other front dumbass”

I roll my eyes at his text, and get off the plane as soon as I can. I walk out and see Chase standing outside his car waiting for me. His eyes light up as he spots me, and a grin spreads across his face. Unable to resist, I rush forward and envelop him in a bear hug.

“Man you’re a lot uglier in person”

I say jokingly, smirking.

“Oh shut up”

We climbed into his car, and he drove us back to his apartment. When we arrive he helps get my crap into the house, before he gets a call saying he had to head to work.

Eventually a week or two passes, I've gotten more comfortable in his apartment, applied for a bunch of jobs, and looked for places to stay so I’m not invading his “man” space anymore. Unfortunately there aren't a lot of options, and no jobs have replied to my applications, which is weird since im overqualified, it's almost like they aren’t even getting my applications in the first place.

I’m doing the dishes when I get a text from Chase.

“Hey, I left my wallet on the counter, so I don’t have money for food, could ya bring it for me?”

“Nah”

“See you soon”

I breathe out a laugh and grab his wallet, putting a coat on then driving to the hospital.

When I get there I walk in, looking around before I call Chase, “Where do I go this place is huge” I can hear talking in the background, actually more like arguing. “Uhm just wait at the entrance i’ll be right there.” He says in a whisper.

He hangs up so I just stand there awkwardly waiting, that was a weird ass phone call. To be fair Chase is a weird ass guy with weird ass coworkers so what do I expect at this point.

Before I see Chase I see Dr Gregory House, limping quickly towards me. And damn he’s even hotter in person than the pictures I saw of him.

“Hey, no time to explain, you need to come with me.” He grabs my arm dragging me into the elevator. Before it closes I see Chase come out of the stairway, he sprints towards the elevator but it closes. I hear him trying to say something, but it's muffled and I can’t understand it. Wait why the fuck did I even follow House?

“You're real compliant, you’d make a great hooker.”

I turn around and side eye him.

“Thanks, so would you.” I say giving a fake smile.

“Speaking of compliant, why did you drag me away from Chase? What's going on?’’

“I made a bet with Chase.”

“That's really specific and helpful thanks”

“Oh yeah no problem”

Sarcastic asshole.

“If you don’t tell me, I'll stop following you and go with Chase.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Fine, Mom! The bet is that I can convince you to work as my assistant here.”

“Really? That's it? I need a job. Why would Chase even bet against that?”

“He thinks you’ll fall in love with me so he doesn’t want that to happen, in his words, “She has a thing for homeless looking, narcissistic assholes with beards.” So he’s trying to prevent it, and he’s sure he can.”

Damn- I feel so called out. I stay silent before nodding.

“Well to be honest he isn’t wrong.”

I see House smirk before we get out of the elevator, he hobbles and leads me to his office, locking the door then having me sit down.

As I sit down in front of his desk, he grabs a ball and starts throwing it against the wall, while sitting down.

“So are you gonna interview me or something?”

“Yeah, I’m just waiting for Chase to get back up here so he can watch me interview you.”

He really is an asshole…it's kinda hot though.

“Fair enough.”

We wait a bit before Chase comes jogging up to the door, out of breath, he’s clearly been running plenty. He starts banging on the glass door that House previously locked.

“House!! Y/N! Let me in! This isn’t fair!” He exclaims, House is grinning when he leans over his desk, crossing his arms.

“Okay! Let’s start this interview now.”

“Y/n! You traitor!”

Did I abandon my childhood best friend for some disabled doctor? No, I did it for the job. At least that's what I'm telling myself.

Turning my attention back to House instead of the Australian cry baby outside the door, he asks me, “First question, do you want the job of being my assistant?”

“Obviously”

“Great! You have the job!”

I mean, easy enough. I smile and shake my head. This hospital really has some unique people.

House shakes my hand, grinning as Chase is sitting on the floor defeated outside.

As the days turned into weeks at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, I got to know everyone. Cuddy had to actually approve of me working as House’s assistant first, but once she saw a…normal enough individual, she welcomed me into the environment.

Getting to know House better, I found myself drawn to him in ways I hadn’t really expected. The bet between House and Chase, Chase thinking I would fall for House, I took it as a joke, until that joke turned more into reality.

Despite House being a narcissistic piece of shit, there were small moments that I saw, or shared with him that made me fall for him. Ones where he seemed happy, or just easy to be around. At work he's serious but when Wilson dragged him out to bars, or other social environments, he could actually be fun. And though him being a dick is undeniably attractive sometimes, when he was…”himself” that's how I began to fall for him.

One day, after an especially tough day for the team, and being forced to go break into houses and get coffee and food, I found myself alone with House in his office. The rest of the team had left, leaving us in a rare moment alone with each other. As I glanced up from the medical chart of the most recent patient, I caught House’s gaze lingering on me, his blue eyes intense and unreadable.

“Something on your mind, House?” I asked, attempting to break the awkward silence between us.

He smirked, leaning back in his chair with a casual ease, “Oh just wondering why a catch like yourself doesn’t have a boyfriend, or husband?” He responds, his tone laced with flirtatiousness.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his response, a faint blush on my cheeks. House and I had gained an uncanny camaraderie, made from me running around doing everyone's paperwork, being the designated “you get to tell patients they are dying!!” person. And as you’d expect people didn’t respect me a lot, but if someone was blatantly mean to me, House would step in and destroy their self esteem in a second and walk away like it meant nothing. That's another thing that I think made me fall for him.

“Believe me, I’ve been asking myself that a lot too.” I smile, placing the medical chart on his desk.

“Do you want a boyfriend? Or girlfriend, or a pet or something.” He quips, his eyes looking like they are reading me, studying my every movement and reaction to what he’s saying, it's flattering and uncomfortable at the same time.

“A boyfriend would be nice.” I say reassuringly, a laugh escaping me as I shake my head in amusement.

“Alright let's say *hypothetically* I asked you out. *hypothetically* what would your response be?”

Raising an eyebrow I ask, “Are you trying to go on a date with me?”

“I said hypothetically, now answer the question.”

A smirk plays on my lips as I roll my eyes in a mock annoyance.

“Well.” I say, “Hypothetically, I would say yes.”

“Great, meet me for dinner at (some random fancy place idk u make up a name i'm too lazy to), wear something cute.”

With that, he sauntered out of the office, leaving me to think about what just happened. Glancing at the clock, I realized I had just enough time to get ready for our “hypothetical date.”

The anticipation bubbled within me, standing outside (IDK A RESTAURANT NAME IT), waiting for House to arrive. My heart raced with nervous excitement, unsure what to expect from a…unique…guy like House. I had used all the time I had to work on my outfit, settling for a simple dress (or suit, or just anything you're comfy in :) ).

As I scanned the busy street, searching for any sign of House, I heard the obnoxiously loud sound of a motorcycle approaching. House rode in, parking his bike before getting off and walking (limping) towards me. My breath caught in my throat as I saw him, he looked impossibly handsome, in a tailored suit that made his rugged charm come out, good god he looked fine.

“Y/n,” he greeted with a warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners in genuine affection. “That outfit makes your ass look nice.”

I scoff playfully, hitting his arm. “So much for acting like a gentleman, at least you look like one.”

He chuckled, offering me his arm in a more gentlemanly gesture. “Yeah yeah, shall we?”

With a nod, I looped my arm through his, savoring the warmth of his touch as we mad our way into the restaurant. The ambiance was elegant and inviting, with a soft candlelight casting a warm glow over the decor.

As we were seated at a table in a quiet corner of the restaurant, I couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement in my chest. I’m finally going out with House, damn Chase was totally right.

Throughout the evening, our conversation flowed surprisingly easily between us. I had half expected him to be rude or stuck up, but he seemed actually interested in me, in my life. He was asking questions, laughing and joking with me. Sharing stories of his own, and treating me like an actual human. Honestly it was scaring me a bit, but it was making me fall harder for him.

House raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. ‘So, tell my Y/N. What’s the most embarrassing thing that's happened to you?”

I laughed, shaking my head as I thought about the memory. “Well, there was this one time in college-”

“Let me guess,” House interrupted, a smirk playing on his lips. “It involved copious amounts of alcohol and very questionable decisions?”

I chuckle and nod in agreement. “You could say that. Long story short, I ended up streaking through the campus fountain at three in the morning. I'm pretty sure Chase might still have a video of it still.”

House raises an eyebrow, an amused laugh coming from him. “I wish I could say I was surprised, oh and also. I am finding that video.” He states, with a determined and mischievous grin.

The dinner continues and our connection just seems to get stronger, fueled by shared laughter, stories of shit Wilson and him did in college, things Chase and I did in highschool. With each passing moment, I found myself more and more under House’s spell, captivated by the complexity of himself, his character. His gaze, laughter, even his personality. Maybe it was the wine or something, but House was being nice, he had charisma, and was being attractive in general.

I don’t even realize that we’ve spent almost three hours in the restaurant just talking. I check my phone seeing that it's 9:30 already. We had got and paid the check awhile ago, but had stayed to talk longer. The restaurant closes at 10, and I felt a sudden pang of disappointment that our date was close to being over with. I didn’t want it to end, I was savoring this moment I was having, this seemingly perfect night.

When the waiter arrived to take our dessert order, I couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment that the evening was drawing to a close. I wasn't ready for it to end—I wanted to savor every moment, to prolong the magic of our time together for as long as possible.

House notices my look of disappointment, “I’m aware how amazing I am, but if its up to me, this won’t be our last date.”

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, my cheeks heating up as I blush. The butterflies in my stomach going absolutely insane.

So with a quick glance around the restaurant, I rose from my seat, House grabbed my hand as he led me towards the exit.

Stepping out into the cool night air, I felt a sense of happiness coursing through me. This was it, the beginning of a new relationship, a surprisingly healthy one so far.

As House’s hand tightened around mine, his touch sent sparks of electricity coursing through my veins. I knew now that maybe Chase knows me better than I know myself, in all fairness he predicted this, but right now I wasn’t afraid to admit this, to admit the undeniable attraction that I had towards Dr Gregory House.

His touch leaves mine, his hand pulling as we stand in front of the restaurant, close to each other, staring in each other's eyes. I glance at his lips before leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, not sure if he expected it, but I pull back.

“Goodnight House. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that I walk away, to my car. When I get in my car, I look in the mirror, seeing House standing there with a lovestruck grin, one a child would have over some school crush. But it was cute, he was cute. And this was just the beginning of an annoyingly predicated relationship with a Vicodin addicted, asshole, who I suspect has a soft spot for me.

#gregory house #greg house #hatecrimes md #dr house #house md #gregory house x reader #greg house x reader #house md headcanons #james wilson #robert chase

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dumbseee · 8 months

Text

rumours, part two.

part one.

jude bellingham x influencer!reader.

fc: nailea devora.

groupchat: it girls 💕

larray:

ain’t no way you’re dating jude fucking bellingham and haven’t told us

y/n:

larry istg i’ll cut your hair in your sleep if you keep believing those DUMB rumours

oliviarodrigo:

girl

he’s hot asf why don’t you shoot your shot?

y/n:

with a footballer?

hell fucking no

these guys don’t know what being faithful to one person means

and i’ve heard plenty of shit about this jude guy

larray:

yeah me too tbh

y/n:

i’m not getting involved with him, period.

larray:

okay but what about his teammates?

y/n:

larry.

larray:

DO IT FOR ME

liked by judebellingham, yourbestie, larray and 789 928 others.

y/n: girls night 🥂

fan1: JUDE LIKED???

fan2: is she lying to us?? bc why would he like her posts now?

fan3: I JUST CHECKED AND HE’S FOLLOWING HER NOW TOO

fan4: maybe she lied to protect their privacy?? that would make sense tbh

fan5: you look so good 😍

fan6: she’s such a baddie omg, jude i get it now

fan7: didn’t know who she was before the whole jude drama but omg i love her

fan8: LEAVE JUDE ALONE YOU FREAK

fan9: petition for jude’s groupies to leave y/n alone

fan10: MOTHER

fan11: y/n please do another grwm i’m obsessed with your videos

fan12: how to be like her, she’s hot asf and has THEE jude bellingham at her feet

view all comments.

insta dms:

y/n:

wtf is wrong with you?

i told you to tell your fangirls to leave me alone and what are you doing? you LIKE my posts and you follow me now?

leave me alone, jude.

judebellingham:

you looked good

you always look good*

are you free, tomorrow night?

y/n:

can’t you READ?

LEAVE. ME. ALONEEEEE.

or i’m pressing charges on you hoe.

judebellingham:

so it’s a yes?

i’ll send you the tickets and my jersey, someone will come pick you up, what’s your address?

y/n:

wtf

what do you mean?

judebellingham:

we’re playing against sevilla and i want you to come

y/n:

we don’t even know each other tf??

is that how you get all those girls to get obsessed with you?

that ain’t gonna work with me, boy.

judebellingham:

hm, i like you already.

y/n:

well, i hate you.

judebellingham:

haha

turns me on, love it.

y/n:

i am BLOCKING you

i hate him. i fucking hate him. who does he think he is? making me come see him to his stupid game, what am i, his mother? seriously i could’ve stayed at home, binge-watching the twilight movies like i do every year. now i have to go to his fucking football game, it’s going to be so nosy, damn it. and before you ask me, YES i am getting ready and i am wearing his jersey. not because i want to, but i know that i won’t hear the end of it if i don’t do it. yeah, i’m doing it because he’s forcing me, no other reason.

like jude said, someone did pick me up to take me to the bernabeu stadium, and i can’t believe i’m doing this. the venue is full of fans wearing either their real madrid jerseys or their sevilla jerseys. i can see men, women, kids, elderly people, they’re all here to have fun and support their favourite team and i have to admit that it’s a cute sight. let’s just hope that they don’t kill each other’s at the end of the match. i’m quickly escorted to the vip section, where friends, family and important people would seat for the game.

"oh my god, is that y/n?" a voice called from behind, i closed my eyes shut, fuck, and walked faster, i should’ve wore a mask to hide my face. if anyone picture me in this stadium with that motherfucker’s jersey on, it would end my career and i’m half exaggerating.

thank god, the vip section was secluded from the other people. the game started and i had to admit that it was fun to watch when you weren’t really supporting anyone. no stress, just having fun watching men run after a ball, just like dogs. jude was actually good, i never looked him up on the internet to watch his performances, i just knew he was the internet’s favourite whore and girls were thirsting over him. he was good looking, of course, no one could deny that, but more than anything he was annoying as fuck. i surprised myself, cheering for him when he scored a goal, what was wrong with me.

real madrid was actually leading the game with two goals against one. jude’s teammate passed the ball to him and he scored his third goal of the match. okay now, why did this motherfucker just point at the crowd, more specifically towards me? people turned around to see where he was pointing at, but thankfully they couldn’t see me. my heart definitely sank when he did that though, seriously what is wrong with this guy! it was a cute gesture, yes, but we weren’t dating and i promised myself to never date an athlete, tried it once and promised to never doing it again. jude was everything i hated in a man, he was reckless, cocky, full of himself and he knew he was hot. nothing worse than a guy who knows he’s handsome.

"how was i?" he asked, this big smile plastered on his face, i wish i could tear it off his face. "fine, i guess." jude made a weird face and put his hands on his hips. "fine? y/n, i was more than fine and you know it, scored three goals and they were all for you." he blew me a kiss and i swore i was about to knock him out. "yeah about that, someone could’ve seen me!" i said, slapping his arm, making him laugh. "darling, that’s what i wanted." okay, the way he was looking at me may or may have not made my heart skip a beat. "jude, i’m starting to believe that the fans gaslighted you into thinking we’re already dating." he laughed, making my cheeks heat up just a bit. "i just want to give the fans what they want to see." he shrugged and put his arm around my shoulders to start walking out of the changing room. i imediatly pushed his arm away and speed walked in front of him to hide my red cheeks. of course, the bitch was laughing at me, running to catch me and poking my cheeks to mock me. "aww, you’re blushing? i thought you hated me, darling." i put my hands on my cheek. "fuck you! it’s just hot in here!" "it’s literally minus two degrees, y/n."

liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, oliviarodrigo and 890 918 others.

y/n: maybe football isn’t so bad 🙄

judebellingham: like the view? 👀

y/n: shut up.

fan1: SHE POSTED JUDE???

fan2: Y/N DID YOU LIE TO US???

y/n: WE’RE JUST FRIENDS GUYS OMG

judebellingham: for now* 🫢

y/n: jude istg…

fan3: OMGBSJSOSLSLMDMSLZ WTF

fan4: i am literally shitting bricks what the FUCK

fan5: i love the banter lmao they’re fun

fan6: i ship it tbh

fan7: y/n being a wag for 2024 omg

fan8: i love how she’s fighting it but we all know how it’s going to end

fan9: Y/N NOOOOOO NOT A FOOTBALLER

oliviarodrigo: well, well, well 👀

y/n: please not you too

larray: will you look at THAT

y/n: LARRY SHUT UP IM BEGGING

fan10: lmaoo even her friends are ratting her out

fan11: #savey/n

view all comments.

insta dms:

y/n:

ARE YOU KIDDING ME

DID YOU REALLY DM POP BASE TO TALK ABOUT US???

judebellingham:

mmh, i don’t know what you’re talking about

y/n:

jude bellingham.

judebellingham:

okay maybe i did

BUT I DIDN’T KNOW THEY’D RAT ME OUT LIKE THAT

y/n:

FOR FUCK’S SAKE

judebellingham:

anyways it’s not a big deal tbh

are you free tonight?

y/n:

no.

judebellingham:

nice, i’ll come pick you up at 9 <3

y/n:

are you BLIND?

i said no bitch

judebellingham:

suddenly i can’t read.

liked by judebellingham, larray, sabrinacarpenter and 901 927 others.

y/n: get you a man who eats his spaghettis with his hands 😍

judebellingham: i wonder who is this gentleman 🫢

y/n: yeah i wonder too 🙄

fan1: pls not jude carrying y/n’s purse

fan2: they’re so cute stop

fan3: my favourite couple

fan4: PARENTS

fan5: lmao i bet jude is the one who begged her to be his gf

y/n: yes.

fan6: JAISOSPXLD’´S

view all comments.

#football x reader #football masterlist #football au #football #jude bellingham x oc #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #bellingham #jude bellingham fluff #fluff

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harrysfolklore · 1 year

Text

times you were at wembley with harry - blurb

i really really hope your like this 🥺 tell me your thoughts.

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

2011 - take that concert

The last year was a roller coaster of emotions for Harry, in the span of a few months, he became a worldwide musical sensation alongside with the four boys that he now gets to call his best friends.

Of course, he was over the moon about his new life and how his dream was coming true, but the most special thing about the last year was that that he now gets to call his high school crush his girlfriend, and he couldn't be happy about it .

"I can't believe we get free tickets to concerts because we're in a band! This is amazing!" A cheerful Niall spoke, the band was currently at Wembley Stadium where the British legendary band 'Take That' was performing for the night.

"I know dude, and we can bring anyone we want too, this is the dream," Harry joined in, turning to look at his girlfriend who was seated next to him "Are you good? Do you want anything to drink?" he asked her, with small smile on his face.

"I'm okay, these seats are great," YN replied, the boys too indulged in their own conversation no longer paying attention to them, "Thank yo for inviting me."

"No need to thank me, love. I love spending time with you," Harry said making his girlfriend's cheeks instantly blush, "This place is madness, I hope we get to play here sometime."

"You will, Harry. And I'll make sure to be by your side when that happens, even if you don't want me anymore."

"Don't say that, you know I'll always want you around." Harry said with a serious face, and YN was about to reply before she interrupted by Louis' voice.

"Lovebirds! The show is about to start!"

"Okay, okay. Let me take a picture of you guys before the lights go out." YN said standing up and grabbing her phone to capture the moment.

The five boys smiled for her, excited grins on their faces and the same thought in their minds: how amazing it would be to play a show in Wembley Stadium

2014 - one direction's where we are tour

"I can't believe we're playing here tonight," Harry said as he took a look at the massive stadium, standing beside his girlfriend as they roamed around the area that soon would be filled with fans, "I just, can't wrap my head around the fact that we actually did it, three sold out shows here, I'm blown away."

YN smiled tenderly before speaking, taking in her boyfriend's excitement, "I'm so proud of you, baby. You and the boys deserve this so much."

"That's the best part of it all, that I'm doing it with the lads," Harry matched his girlfriend's smile, "You know, if I ever get to do my own thing I know for a fact that I won't be able to match everything we're achieving, but I'm okay with it. My dreams are coming true right now and that's all that matters."

YN knew that this was a constant thought on his mind and doubt whispered in his ear telling him that if he ever got to launch his solo career, he would never measure up and never reach the same heights as his band is doing.

"Hey, love," YN called for him, making him lock his eyes with her, "Everything's going to be fine, you will deliver an amazing show tonight and the following nights. And when the time is right, you'll be back here with your own music, I have no doubt in my mind that you were born to perform in stages like this one."

Harry smiled fondly taking in his girlfriend's words, "I love you, you know?" he grabbed her face before continuing, "Your constant support is what pushes me to do all of this, it means nothing without you."

YN leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "I'll always be here, supporting you through it all," she whispered, "Doesn't matter if you perform for 60,000 people or 6, I'm going to be proud of you no matter what."

And as Harry stood in the middle of the stadium with his girlfriend wrapped around his arms, eager to perform alongside with his best friends; he thought his life couldn't get any better , and no matter what happened in the future, he was going to cherish that moment for the rest of his life.

2022 - love on tour: harry's first solo show

"How do you feel, mate?" Jeff asked Harry as they stood together on the wings of the stage, Mitski was just done with her set and Harry was already on his outfit for the show, minutes away from hitting the stage.

"It's a weird feeling somehow," Harry turned his gaze to his manager and best friend, "I never thought I was going to ever be able to fill this place on my own, you know?"

"And here we are, two sold out shows!" Jeff threw his fist in the air as a sign of celebration and both of them laughed, side hugging as they kept admiring the crowd.

"Are you guys having a sappy sentimental moment without me?" they tuned their heads towards the voice called for them, that belonged to Harry's wife.

"I was just about to leave, actually, I have to check everything's running smoothly before this one hits the stage," Jeff ruffled Harry's hair for a moment, "You lovebirds enjoy your pre-concert shag, see you out there!"

YN and Harry both rolled their eyes and shook their heads, all the times they got caught doing their shenanigans before the shows resulting in a constant teasing from their friends.

"So, how do you feel, rockstar?" YN asked, getting closer to him and wrapping his arms around his waist.

"You know, Jeff just asked the same thing."

"Okay, no talking, straight to the pre-concert shag I guess!"

Harry laughed, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, looking out at the crowd together.

"I feel great," Harry said, turning his face to the side to locke his eyes with hers, "Being here again and having you by my side as my wife now is something that I thought would only happen in my dreams, so I feel great my dreams came true again."

"This is a time where I actually feel good saying that I told you so," YN smiled softly, "I always knew that you were going to be selling out this places on your own, baby. And I'm so proud of you."

"I know," Harry pecked her lips for a moment, "And that's the reason why I'm here, because you had never allowed me to doubt myself."

"You're here because you've earned it by working hard and pouring your heart out in everything that you do, there's no one who deserves this as much as you do."

Harry's eyes got watery at her words, and he grabbed her face to connect their lips, expressing everything he felt at the moment with a kiss.

"10 minutes till show time!" One of the crew members announced, making them break apart.

"Go sing about fruit and joke about dads, rockstar. I love you."

"Love you more, wifey."

And with a final kiss to his wife's lips he was off to perform, ready to charm a crowd of 80,000 people on his own, something that he never though he would achieve.

2023 - four sold out shows

gif by @londonharry

“And here we go again.” You whispered to yourself as you watched Harry hit the first note of Daydreaming.

You were on the VIP box of Wembley Stadium, accompanied by family and friends that came together to see Harry perform. The room filled with love, pride and joy.

“Honey, I’m home!” Harry said into the mic, making the entire crowd of 80k people scream, and you couldn’t help but turn your head to Anne standing beside you.

“He’s always so happy when he’s here,” she said, her eyes not leaving her boy who was performing on stage, “I’ve watched him perform countless of times and I still get overwhelmed with so much pride.”

You both smiled tenderly, sharing the same feeling. As the concert went by, you danced along to the music, traded friendship bracelets with Harry’s fans that approached you and took a few snaps with your film camera to capture the moment forever.

But now, you absolute favorite of every Harry concert approached, the time to listen to him sing the song that started it all: Sign of the Times.

“It’s not lost on me how insane it is to be playing 4 nights here this week, thank you so much. It’s very, very special to me,” Harry begun with his speech before the song, making everyone in the audience grow emotional, “My family is here tonight, my friends are here, my gorgeous wife is here, and a countless list of people who have supported me right from the very beginning.”

You put your hand on your chest, feeling tears gather up in your eyes and feeling how Anne side-hugged you, caressing your arm.

“These shows get a little bit scary for me because, they get so built up, and it’s a slow build, that feels like. I know what it means to be here tonight and it’s a bit scary because it makes it feel it’s a show all unto itself”

“He’s still feels like he’s not going to live up to it,” Anne whispered, making you look at her, “But remember how he thought he was never going to play here on his own? And now we’re here for four nights.”

“And now we’re here for four nights.” you repeated her words, smiling to yourself and admiring your husband on stage.

The song finally started and the tears naturally rolled down your cheeks, your body filled with pride and adoration for the man you’ve loved for over 13 years. As you watched the fireworks go off as he hit the final notes, you thanked life for allowing you to stick with him through it all.

taglist: @lightsoutstyles @waitingroomharry y @willowpains @straightontilmornin @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia @iceebabies

tell me if you want to be added <3

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles story #harry styles fake instagram #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles headcanon #harrysfolklore #harry styles au #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fan fic #harry styles request #1k #hsfolklore archive

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softgreengrass · 7 months

Text

I’ll Survive

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary: happy then sad then happy, requested, supersoldier!r but it’s not relevant to plot

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: death, grief

A/N: thanks for the request!

You and Natasha are in the gym when FRIDAY calls a meeting.

“Come on, is that all you got?” she grins, leaning into the punching bag with all her weight.

You fire a few more jabs, and her feet slip back a little. Sweat rolls down your forehead.

“Attention, all,” FRIDAY’s voice rings out. “Mission briefing in the conference room. 10 minutes.”

You don’t stop your barrage of punches, your eyes locked onto the Avengers logo in the center of the bag.

“You sure you’re ready to get back into it?” Natasha asks.

You’ve been coming off of an injury for a few months now. Bad intel, a trap, a bullet straight through your femur — being on bedrest was your seventh circle of hell.

Instead of answering, you wind your fist back and hit the bag hard enough to send it flying across the room, taking Natasha with it. She slams against the wall and laughs.

You wipe your face with a towel before walking over and kicking the bag away from her. “Sorry.”

“Super soldiers,” she mutters, shaking her head.

You offer her a hand. She takes it, rising to her feet, and leans into your chest. Butterflies shoot through your stomach.

“You sure you’re ready?” she asks softly.

“Yeah.”

Her eyes flick down to your lips, and you pull her into a slow kiss. Her hands find the back of your neck, lace through your hair. It only lasts a few seconds before she swipes her foot behind your leg and shoves your shoulders hard.

You land flat on your back with a groan.

“10 minutes, killer,” she smirks. “And don’t ever do that again.”

You’re the last one in the conference room, and there are no seats left around the table. Cap shoots you a disapproving glance as you close the door behind you.

“Hope no one made any weekend plans,” Cap clears his throat. “Because we’re heading to Russia.”

Tony groans obnoxiously. “Come on, really?”

The holographic screen suspended above the table turns on, showing the floor plans of the Kremlin. Everyone falls silent.

“This isn’t a villain of the week, guys,” Steve sighs. “Hell, it’s not even HYDRA.”

You whistle, and Rhodey glares at you.

“As far as we can tell, the Russian government is doing this entirely of their own accord. The only one pulling the strings is Putin.”

“What are they doing?” Clint asks, leaning back in his chair.

“They want to put nukes in space.” Steve presses his clicker and the screen shows the earth and a dozen orbits around it. “That’s a one-way ticket to world war three.”

“And you want us to, what, eat the nukes?” Tony asks.

Cap clenches his jaw. “The Department of Defense wants us to make sure they don’t launch. My plan makes sure Putin won’t ever get the chance to.”

“You want to assassinate him?” Natasha asks quickly.

Steve faces her. “I want you to.”

Your eyes meet Natasha’s through the projection, and you swallow.

“He’s gotta be the most well-protected guy on the planet,” Bruce says.

“That’s a suicide mission!” Clint cries.

“Which is why we’re all going,” Steve says, in that authoritative old man tone that shuts everyone up. “Banner’s right. It’s going to take all of us just to get a chance.”

“Pretty sure assassinating the Russian president is an act of war,” you say. “Number two in command is just gonna send those nukes up and point them straight at the Pentagon.”

Everyone is quiet for a moment. Then they turn towards Steve.

“Which is why I have a plan,” he says firmly.

You don’t like it one bit. Not one bit. Natasha, undercover for two weeks without comms. Clint posing as a diplomat. The rest of you hunkered underground, waiting for the right moment to invade the Kremlin. It’s almost recklessly risky. And yet, Steve has his full faith in it, which means the rest of you do too.

That night, Natasha holds onto you tightly. She’s terrified to go back there, regardless of what she says. It’s worse than going after one cell, or even the Red Room itself. It’s the man behind the curtain who’s been controlling it all.

“It’s going to go fine,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you further into her.

“It is,” you say. You take her hands and press them into your sternum. You’d only succeeded in being the big spoon a couple times — never when she was stressed. So you stare at the wall. “I mean it.”

“Me too,” her breath fans against the back of your neck. “We’ve done harder things before, haven’t we?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you exhale. “I mean, aliens? AI? Bruce when he’s hungry?”

She laughs, and that eases some of the pressure on your heart. “Worst case, I’ll survive.”

“You always do.”

“I always do,” she smiles. “And best case, I take care of him, you get rid of the cabinet, and Steve slides in his new leader. And we get out of there and go to… I don’t know. The Dominican Republic.”

“The Dominican Republic?”

“Why not?” she kisses your shoulder. “A vacation. Moscow’ll be a pretty intense way to get back into the action. You’ll deserve a break.”

“I’ve been on a break for three months,” you snort.

“Oh come on, you don’t want a piña colada? Palm trees? White sand beaches?”

“Well when you put it like that,” you say, turning around to face her. “I guess we could go to the Dominican Republic.”

She smiles, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Promise?”

You could stare into the green of her eyes forever. “Promise.”

Not three weeks later, you sit staring at a computer screen in a bunker a hundred feet below Red Square. Tony sits to your left. There’s no point in watching the feed, since all of the cameras are outside of the Kremlin and Natasha walked in an hour ago, but you can’t help it. You feel powerless.

For ten days, Natasha has been Alina Konstantinovna Petrova, a middle-aged politician who just got back from a stint in Belarus. When she emerged wearing the nanotech mask for the first time, you genuinely didn’t recognize her. Her voice, her gait, her mannerisms — all changed. Sometimes you forget she’s the world’s greatest spy.

But with no comms and no tracker, all you have is your faith in that fact. Just your trust in her.

If she’s on schedule, she should be having tea with the Prime Minister, but really she could be anywhere, doing anything. There’s absolutely no way for you to know.

“You know,” Wanda sighs, tipping back in her office chair and tossing a tennis ball into the air. “I don’t think all of us had to be here.”

“Agreed,” Tony grumbles. “I was supposed to be at a gala right now.”

“Do you think-”

“Quiet!” Steve orders, narrowing his eyes at the screen. “Do you see that? Is that smoke?”

You lean closer. It is smoke, pouring out of a second-floor window, and it makes your stomach drop.

Steve taps into the emergency comms in Clint’s ear. “Is there a fire? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Clint’s voice replies, hushed. “I don’t know, they put us into a ballroom. I don’t know where she is.”

“Shit,” Steve mutters.

“What do we do?” you ask, rising to your feet.

Steve grimaces. “If… if we make contact now, she won’t have a shot. It’ll all be for nothing.”

“The Kremlin isn’t usually on fire,” you snap.

“I’m sure she can handle it,” he glares back. His voice is dangerously quiet when he speaks again. “She knows what’s on the line here.”

But five minutes later, the smoke hasn’t stopped. It’s spread. Clint and the other diplomats are being evacuated.

You keep your eyes glued to the feed, scanning for Alina Petrova’s face among the crowd. She never emerges, but neither do the Prime Minister or cabinet. Maybe there’s a hidden exit.

Just when it seems like the fire is coming under control and the chaos is cooling, the cameras cut out.

You rush for the exit immediately, Tony and Steve right on your heels. Your entire body goes numb as you climb the ladder.

It’s probably fine, you think, hands squeezing the rungs too tight. The fire burned a power line, or the government stopped the footage to protect their image. She’s fine. She’s fine.

You heave the manhole cover out of place with your shoulder, hoisting yourself onto the street and ignoring the pedestrians who stare at you.

It’s absolute pandemonium. There’s a crater where half of the Kremlin used to be, and the other half is engulfed in flames. You sprint towards it.

Steve immediately shouts after you, but all you can hear is the rush of blood in your ears.

Maybe there’s a hidden exit. She had to have noticed the fire, she would’ve escaped, she would’ve made it out. She would’ve.

The police that are always stationed around the Kremlin make a border around it, though no one except you is trying to go towards the burning building.

“Ostanavis’!” they yell, but you hurdle their makeshift barricade.

If she was on schedule, she would’ve been on the east side, top floor. The heat doesn’t even register in your mind.

You root through rubble as fast as you can, barely noticing when Wanda and Steve join you in your search. Smoke stings your eyes and fills your lungs until you can barely choke out a breath.

There are heaps of ash that might’ve once been people, might’ve once been Natasha.

You climb trembling supports to get to the second floor: there are bones there, even fragments of medals and jewelry. The farther you get from the crater the less charred the bodies become. But you can only get so close to the live blaze, and none of the bodies are hers. The skin on your hands begins to blister from red-hot ash and metal.

At some point Steve pulls you away, ignores the way you claw at him and scream that you won’t leave her. The three of you (Tony, Bruce, and Rhodey had been wise enough to run away from flaming wreckage) end up in a Russian prison, charged as enemies of the state responsible for the fire and ensuing blast.

By the time the Department of Defense negotiates you out, you’ve convinced yourself that Natasha must’ve escaped. There’s no other option. She couldn’t die. If you didn’t find her, she couldn’t have been there. She must’ve gotten out.

But when you walk into SHIELD’s Moscow base, she isn’t there. It’s only Fury and Clint.

“Where is she?” you ask, rushing towards them. Everyone else seems to slip out of the room.

Fury’s eyes stay trained on you, swimming with something you don’t want to decipher. Your heart pounds against your chest

“Where is she?”

“She’s dead,” Clint says, his voice raw.

“No,” you respond immediately. “No, she isn’t.”

He closes his eyes.

No. You see a flash of her smile, of the jacket she loved. You feel the ghost of her touch on your face.

“I thought she faked it,” Fury says after a moment. “But… we made a deal a few years ago. If one of us faked it again we’d leave something behind so the other would know. A ring.”

You’ve never heard his voice so weak before. Somehow it’s scarier than anything else.

“But there was no ring,” he clears his throat. “Just this.”

He holds out his hand, opens it. The necklace you gave Natasha last year is bunched up on his palm, dark with soot. Your knees almost give out. She never takes it off, not to sleep or train or go undercover. She would never leave it behind.

Reality dawns on you like an awful black wave. Natasha is dead.

“I’m sorry,” Fury says, resting a hand on your shoulder. You can’t feel it. Every breath, every blink is manual now, every movement an act of will.

Worst case, I’ll survive.

You just want to hug her again. Just see her face one more time, knowing it’ll be the last. Suddenly a deep red rage fills your vision, and your muscles twitch to strangle whoever set the fire, whoever planted the bomb.

“There was no body?” you ask hoarsely. You can’t tear your eyes from the necklace.

Fury shakes his head. “Ash.”

A lump forms in your throat that won’t leave for weeks. You feel like you’re looking at everything through frosted glass, frozen in the moments that you just held. It’s like you’ve been caught in a spiderweb.

You don’t cry until you set foot inside her room at the compound. Everything is just how she left it, like she just stepped out. Like she’ll come back any second now.

The covers on her bed are rumpled.

You can’t wrap your kind around the fact that she could be gone, vanished into thin air, reduced to dust. That she’ll never touch anything again. You sit down on the floor and hug your knees.

For a few days you don’t eat; you don’t speak for longer. The gaping hole in your chest churns and twists in an agonizing way. Every night you dream of refusing Steve’s plan, or going up as soon as you saw the smoke, or doing anything except sitting idly while she burned alive.

You’re at Steve’s throat often enough that Tony kicks you both out of the compound. It’s not like either of you are of use, anyways. The others manage to channel their sorrow into work. You don’t.

Clint takes time off, too. Laura manages to convince you it’ll be good.

But with nothing to distract you, you feel the pain of every passing moment. Every minute that you get older and she doesn’t. You don’t want to have to think of a life without her in it.

Weeks or months into your dull gray blur of a life, someone knocks on your door. You hope it’s not Steve. You don’t know if it’s the season, but you could spring for a box of Thin Mints.

It’s not a girl scout. It’s Natasha.

Your eyes go wide; your face pales. Nanotech mask? Clone? “A-Are you real?”

She wheezes out your name, keeps her hands clutched to her side.

“Is it really you?” you ask, your eyes welling with tears and your hands trembling as you reach out to touch her.

“I missed you,” she breathes, her eyes roaming your face.

She has a black eye and a split lip. It’s her. You drink in the green of her eyes and the red of her hair and the softness of her face and you can’t keep the sobs from escaping. She crashes into your arms, ignoring the throbbing pain in her ribs. She smells like sweat and home.

Natasha is crying too, shaking, her face hidden in your chest. You close your eyes and tilt your head down to rest your lips on her head.

“You’re hurt,” you say when you remember how to speak.

She pulls away and kisses you deeply. It feels like God blessing you, even if it tastes like blood. She’s real. You don’t let go of her until she gently pushes you away.

“We should go inside,” she whispers.

You’re in a daze for half an hour, while you wrap her ribs and bandage the gash on her arm. She doesn’t leave your gaze for one second. When you’re finally satisfied that she won’t drop dead, you collapse onto the couch next to her.

She climbs on top of you, pulls you close.

“They were onto me,” she murmurs into your hair. “I had to escape, I couldn’t let them think I was alive.”

Anger roars in your chest. “I’m not losing you again.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to kill them,” you growl, wrapping your arms around her securely.

“I’ll help,” she says, and you can hear the smile in her voice. “They’re probably coming here.”

“You were followed?”

“I wanted to see you,” she sighs. “I didn’t take all the precautions.”

You laugh and bury your face into the crook of her neck. “You think we can go to the Dominican Republic after?”

“I’ll break up with you if we don’t.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #angst #black widow #black widow x reader #marvel #mcu #natasha x reader #fluff

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beybaldes · 10 months

Text

Karma is the guy on AFC Richmond, coming straight home to me!

summer sleepover masterlist

roy kent × gn!famous!reader (loosely inspired by Taylor swift and Travis Kelce)

summary: “kisses with a height difference” requested by two anons <33

an: okay you can actually thank the queen of my heart @onceuponaoneshotfanfic for my sudden (although potentially one night only we’ll see if I get my uni essay done lol) return because she reposted a celebrity prompt list and it got my mind whirring oops love you tally thank you for breaking my writers (and reading) block <33

“Hot.”

One simple word had sent your 68 million instagram followers into an absolute frenzy, and half of them, you were pretty sure, didn’t even know who Roy Kent was.

“‘So nice of them to put this football player on the map?’ They do know I was famous long before you ever were, right?” You only laughed as Roy grew more frustrated, allowing him to scroll through your Twitter account while you made the both of you some breakfast.

“Hey, maybe they have a point?” You tried to stifle your laughter, knowing Roy’s eyes would be sending daggers into your back, though only for a moment so he could continue winding himself up over the things people were tweeting. “I mean Richmond tickets have now sold out for the rest of the season.”

Roy knew you were only joking. Well, kind of. The two of you had been together for just over a year now, recently celebrating your one year anniversary, but besides the odd article about each of you potentially seeing someone, no one knew you were together - let alone that you even knew each other. Keeley had been blowing up Roy’s phone since she saw the comment demanding to meet you, her favourite superstar, and you’d woken up to 37 missed calls from your dad, furious you hadn’t told him you were dating Chelsea legend Roy Kent.

Above everything, you’re still in disbelief Roy tried to hard launch your relationship in the comment section if your most recent instagram post on a random Tuesday evening.

“Hmm, and I’m sure your next tour is going to sell out 10 times faster now the world knows you’re with the great Roy Kent.” Roy had given up on reading tweets speculating about what his comment meant and if the two of you were together, instead choosing to press his bare chest agains your back, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you finished up breakfast. Fortunately you knew, Roy Kent or not, your next tour was going to sellout. Though you’d rather have Roy be by your side for it.

“Maybe if I’m lucky.” Putting down your fork, you turned in Roy’s hold to face him, standing on the very tips of your toes to press a lovingly slow kiss to his lips. Since dating Roy, you were certain early mornings were for breakfasts that take too long to cook and kisses that end too soon for your liking. Roy’s grip on you tightened and he dipped his head slightly, making the kiss as easy on you as possible. When you began to pull away, he only ducked his head further to press his lips back against yours. “Mmm, although I’d already consider myself very lucky.”

“That you are.” Roy murmured against your lips, immediately pressing them flush against yours when he’d said his piece. “And so am I.”

an: okay short and sweet but I’m hoping to get back in to writing and get up to date with my requests now that I’m settled at uni and with my new job. Missed you guys hope you all are well <33

#beybaldes writes !!#beybaldes summer sleepover !!#ted lasso x reader #roy kent x reader #roy kent one shot #roy kent imagine #another banger another banger by onceuponaoneshotfanfic from tumblr.com

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ham-st4r · 1 year

Text

𝐍𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐌𝐞 (𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨) - 𝐋. 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

❥ pairing: heeseung + female reader!

♪ warnings: smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, oral male receiving, rough make-up sex, lover's to ex's, verbal abuse, break up, cursing, crying, arguments, angst, alcohol

♪genre: smut, fluff, angst, drama, lover's to ex's

♪summary: here!

♪number of words: 13,316k

Find your way around!

Hi, hi, this is my most recent work. Nobody gets me. It’s partially based on the song by sza. I was just listening to the song, and I got inspired to write this anyways. I hope you all enjoy it. I worked hard on it, and I’m happy with the way it came out. It’s long, but I hope you’ll be patient and make your way to the end. With that being said, please leave feedback and reblog it always makes my day to see someone complimenting me on my work.

You couldn’t believe it. After all the hard work you put in, it was finally starting to pay off all the sleepless nights, the days you didn’t feel like getting up and recording or writing, all the times you’d spend cuddled up in your boyfriend’s arms crying to him cause no matter what you did, you never felt like it was good enough.

It was all finally over, and with the help of your loving boyfriend being with you every step of the way and cheering you on from the sideline, you had finally been signed by a label, and you recorded your very first single.

You and your boyfriend, heeseung of seven years, held hands as you listened to your song play on the radio for the first time since your official debut. You both sang along softly to the lyrics, and he turned to glance at you with a fond smile cherishing this beautiful moment with his most favorite person in the whole wide world.

He wiped the few tears that trickled down your face with his thumb while the last few seconds of your song played. “I’m so proud of you. I knew you’d make a hit. I never doubted you for even a second” His soft voice comes out in almost a whisper as the song comes to an end, and the soft piano fades out.

You grabbed his hand that was placed on your cheek and brought it to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” you tell him sincerely. You can’t even remember how many times you had just thought about quitting, but he never let you cause he believed in you when Nobody else did, and he reminded you of that every single day.

He pressed the button, turning off the radio in his beater that had been getting him to point A to B for the last four years, and pulled out a green velvet box from his jacket. “And I could have never done this thing called life if it wasn’t for you” He smiled with tears gathering in his eyes. You were literally his everything since the day you met at the restaurant he worked at. He remembered the day clearly. It had been unusually busy, and order tickets were stacked. Unknowingly, he accidentally cooked your steak rare instead of medium rare once the waiter brought the food back and told him it was wrong. He felt terrible for messing it up. He took his job very seriously, so he prepared what was probably the best steak he’s ever made and specially hand delivered it to your table, apologizing over and over again before scurrying off back to the kitchen about twenty minutes later, his heart sank when the waiter called his name, he thought he had messed up another order. But he breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the words the waiter spoke. “Table number 7 said that your steak was the best she’s ever had and wanted to thank you for your hard work with a one hundred dollar tip” For the rest of the hectic night, heeseung worked hard with a smile on his face, and when he saw you come into the restaurant a week later, he knew then, and there you were the one, it was like you somehow knew he was having the worst day of his whole career and like magic, you came by and made it the best by giving him the tip of a lifetime and he just knew from that day on he needed you in his life and even though he was on the clock he made sure to get your number while sneaking you a special dessert (one that wasn’t on the menu)

You teared up once again when you saw him open the box as he held your hand from across the beat-up dash in his car. “Heeseung,” you said in absolute awe.

“Y/n, you’re my whole world, and I’m so lucky to have you in my life and to be able to call you mine. Words just aren’t enough to express how I feel about you,” he said with a shaky breath, the first tear finally rolling down his cheek. “And even though I tell you every day, I just want you to know that I love you, and I’ll never stop loving you. It’s been a really tough past couple of years for us, but I wouldn’t want to spend those years with anyone else 'cause Nobody gets me like you” His lips upturned into a small smile when he saw the surprised look on your face. "I know I'm not perfect, but I promise I'll love and take care of you until the end of time" He turned the small box showing you the ring. It wasn’t big, it wasn’t fancy, and the diamond wasn’t the size of a rock, but it was enough for you cause you knew he was proposing to you from his heart, and no ring could ever compare to the amount of love his heart held for you. “I’m so proud of you, and I’m so happy that I have someone as special as you in my life” He smiled as more tears cascaded down his pretty face. “So,” he looked at you with nothing but pure love and adoration in his eyes, and with one last shaky breath, he popped the question. “Will you marry me?”

You sat there in silence, unable to understand how you were so blessed to have your debut song played on the radio and the love of your life proposing to you all on the same day. Without a doubt, this was definitely the best day of your whole entire life, and you’d never forget it, not in a million years.

He felt his heart drop the more seconds that passed, and you didn’t say anything after a while. He took your silence as apprehension, so he tried to reassure you that he was the one for you. “I-I know your parents aren’t fond of me, and I need a new car, and I need to buy a house, bu-“You cut off his rambling and kissed him. He kissed you back immediately without any hesitation.

“Yes, yes, heeseung a million times yes!” he chuckled breathily and grabbed your shoulder across the cup holders bringing you closer as he locked lips with yours.

You pulled away, leaving just the tiniest gap between the two of you. “I want to marry you. I don’t want anybody else but you, and I don’t care what anyone thinks about you cause you’re all I’ll ever need” He leaned his forehead against yours, his warm breath tickled your nose as he distanced himself from you, and took the silver diamond embedded ring out of its little box.

His hands were shaking with nerves and excitement, and so were yours as he slipped it onto your ring finger. “I love you so much” He held your hand in his, tracing the ring with his thumb as he smiled at you.

“I love you too” You squeezed his hand and squealed in excitement.

He rolled down the window, and you looked at him in confusion cause it was literally cold and raining outside. “She wants to marry me!” He screamed proudly out the window catching the attention of the people passing by, some smiling and others giving him weird stares, but he didn’t care. He just wanted the world to know that you were his now and forever.

“Oh my god!” You giggled and cupped your hand over his mouth.

He grabbed your wrist and guided your hand to cup his cheek as he smiled widely. “My fiancée,” he leaned in to kiss you some more, and neither of you bothered rolling up the window, too lost in the moment and the softness of each other's lips to care about anything else.

Everything was going great since the release of your hit single you and heeseung finally got some free time and were now cuddled up on a small couch in your studio apartment, currently talking about your wedding and everything you should get and who to invite.

“I’m going to make sure our wedding is perfect. I promise” He kissed the crown of your head, holding you just a little bit tighter.

“We should get little mini me’s, and you’s on our cake” His chuckle filled the otherwise silent apartment, and it made your heart melt. You loved the sound of his laughter. No matter how bad of a day you had, his laugh could always make it all better.

“That would be cute,” he said as he envisioned it. He could see everything slowly coming together the more and more you both planned and talked about it.

You looked up at him and pecked his lips sweetly. “I was thinking about planning it for this summer,” he said a little reluctantly. He knew it was soon, and he didn’t want you to feel pressured, but the timing to him seemed perfect.

“Really?! I always wanted to get married in the summer since I was a little girl,” you said as you felt the excitement rising.

“Then I guess that’s settled,” he says with a smile as he plays with the ring on your finger.

You both sigh in contentment, enjoying each other’s company until the loud ringing of your phone breaks the peaceful moment.

“I’m not answering that,” you say, snuggling up closer to your fiancé and hugging him tighter, not wanting to leave his warm, comforting embrace for one second.

“But baby, that might be Steve. You’ve been waiting on him to call for a while now,” he says, knowing how badly you’ve been wanting to get an opening gig, and this phone call might just be you finally getting that chance.

It’s a good thing you had heeseung cause he was always the logical one out of the both of you.

He moved his hands off of you, allowing you to take the call. “I’ll be waiting” He smiles at you softly.

You finally get up to answer it, and he was right. It was your manager, Steve, and as exciting as the news was, you couldn’t have gotten it at a worse time.

You hang up and trudge back over to heeseung, who was patting his lap with a tired smile on his face. “Was it him?” He asks excitedly as he wraps you back in his arms again.

“Yes,” you mumble into his chest.

“I take it the news wasn’t any good…” he muttered with a sad tone.

“The news was great” He leaned back and looked at you, confused.

“Then why the sad face?” He asks while stroking your cheek.

“I got invited on tour to open up for a well-known group, and they said I’d gain a lot of experience and a bigger audience.” You explained.

“What?! Baby, that’s great news! I’m so happy for you!” you knew he’d be excited for only a moment before you broke the terrible news to him.

“It’s a summer tour, and it’s this year, and we were going to have our wedding in the summer this year….” You said sadly, and you watched his smile lessen until it was nothing but a frown.

“Oh….not great” It was silent for a few minutes before he was being the heeseung you knew, always trying to turn a bad situation into a good one no matter how terrible the circumstances were. “Look at me, love. I’m not going anywhere, okay? We can have the wedding next year” He cupped your cheeks and made you look at him, smiling at the little pout on your lips. “And besides, this is your career we’re talking about. Sure, I would love to call you my wife and be your husband, but you know what, I would love just as much?” He asked with a smile.

“What?” He squished your cheeks and kissed your pout away, replacing it with a smile.

“To see my fiancée living her dream and performing in front of millions of people after knowing what it took to get here, seeing you perform for the first time on stage, will be the happiest day of my life.”

Tears had welled in your eyes, and not a day went by where you weren’t grateful for him. He always knew just what to say to make you feel better.

He was literally perfect.

He wiped your tears before they got halfway down your cheeks. “No more crying in the studio,” he said as his voice cracked slightly. “We’ve done enough of that already” He released a heavy breath while hugging you tightly in his arms.

“Yeah, okay,” you whispered and smiled past your tears. “I love you so much I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”

“I love you too, and don’t even think about it cause you’ll never be without me.”

You held each other in silence, enjoying the rest of the time you had left until the tour started.

You had been preparing everything for your upcoming shows rehearsing over and over again to make sure everything was perfect. After all, this was your first time performing on stage, and it had to be nothing but the best, no less.

“Baby, you’re going to do so good,” Heeseung startled you. He had been watching you from afar after quietly entering the studio with the spare key that you had made for him on your one-year anniversary. He had just got off of work and came to the studio after cooking you both dinner before he left the restaurant.

“Hee!” You squeal, taking off your headphones and running over to him, peppering his face with kisses.

“Hello to you too, baby,” he chuckled and set his bags down before picking you up and kissing you as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. “You miss me?” He said on your lips, teasingly swiping his tongue along them.

“I always miss you,” you whined into the kiss, and his hands moved down to your butt, squeezing it as he groaned from the feeling of your plump lips pressing against his.

After a hard day of work, feeling your lips on his was nothing short of heaven.

“Me too,” he released a breath and opened his mouth, letting your tongue explore every inch of him, but before you two got too carried away, he broke the kiss and set you back down after pecking your lips one last time. “I made us dinner,” he smiles, and you can see the exhaustion all over his features even though he tried his best to hide it, but nothing could get past you. You’ve known him for 8 years. “It’s been a while since you left the studio, and we had a date, so…” he let go of your waist and picked up the bags he brought, pulling out a bottle of your favorite wine.

“I took it upon myself to bring the date to you” He wiggled his eyebrows with a goofy smile.

“What did I do to deserve you?” You hugged him by his waist.

He set the bottle down and copied your action. “Oh, I don’t know,” he pretended to think. “But if I had to say, it’s probably because you’re the best person to ever walk this planet, and you deserve nothing but the best.”

You couldn’t believe it even after years. He could still make you feel butterflies with his effortless compliments.

“I love you so much. Did you know that?” You ask, playing with his little cravat.

“I do, but If I didn’t, I know you’d just remind me every day anyway” He pecked your forehead. “I hope you’re in the mood for steak,” he says.

“I’m always in the mood for steak,” you smile brightly. That was the first meal you both shared on your first date together. Of course, you’d always be in the mood for steak cause it always took you back to that wonderful day.

“That’s my girl. Now go sit your pretty butt down while I get your dinner.”

“No, I’ll do it.” You insist. “You just go sit and rest, okay?” You could see he was hesitant at first, but he quickly gave in cause his feet were killing him, and he was more than exhausted from picking up extra hours.

“Fine, but just this one time” He took his chef jacket off and hung it up at the door.

“That’s my boy,” you say, mimicking his words from earlier with a smile. As soon as he turned around, you took the opportunity to pat him on his butt.

“Y/n!” He squeaked and spun around, looking at you in shock. You’d never done that before. “What was that?” He asked, and you could see him blushing.

You just shrugged with a smile, and you would definitely be doing that a lot more from now on to see his cute little reaction.

During dinner, you both chatted about your jobs and how he’d been working late shifts and taking extra days.

No wonder he looked so tired, you thought.

You guys weren’t together as often as before with all the preparations you were doing for your tour. You didn’t get to keep up with the happenings, so when you did get together, the last thing you wanted was to talk about work, but luckily tonight, you both had the night to yourselves to talk about any and everything. “You should take a break, babe” He shakes his head slightly, dismissing your comment drinking the last bit of wine from his glass.

“I can’t. With the wedding coming, I need as much as I can get, you know that baby, plus I still need to save for a new car,” you just sighed.

“Hee, I make enough money for the both of us now we can live comfortably, so why do you insist on working?”

“Cause it shouldn’t be that way!” He raised his voice in frustration, not with you but with himself. “I’m supposed to take care of you, and I can barely take care of myself. Your parents even said it I’m a deadbeat that's no good for you, so to change that, I have to show them that I can provide for you that I can provide for us.”

As soon as he said that, you knew this was about way more than just making money, and he was dealing with more than he was letting on.

You pushed the empty plates aside and sat next to him on the couch, looking at his apologetic face. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to yell, okay baby? I’m just a little stressed. Lately, that’s all” He put his hand on your knee, squeezing it softly. “I won’t do it again,” he promised.

“I know, it’s okay, hee” You rubbed his back soothingly, and he closed his eyes, exhaling a deep breath. “Lay back” He looked at you confused, but when he saw you weren’t saying anything else, he laid back slowly with his head on the armrest of the sofa. “Feet up” He did as you said and placed his feet on your lap, but he was still skeptical of your motive. “Just close your eyes and relax,” and he did, too tired to question your intentions anymore.

A low hum settled in his chest as you slowly massaged his feet, rubbing the balls of each calloused foot.

You gently pinched his heel and rubbed it up and down, adding slight pressure to soothe away any aches and pains. “That feels….” He trailed off, not being able to find the right word to describe how good it felt. You chuckled lightly and continued massaging him.

Your hands trailed up to his long legs, rubbing the taut muscles of his calves.

He felt shivers all over his body from your gentle, loving touch.

You moved to his thighs as you felt them tensing under your palms. “That feels good,” he breathes out, and you smile as a warm feeling spreads across your chest as you watch him start to relax the more you caress his tired aching body.

“Turn over for me” He quickly flipped over and rested his cheek on the backs of his hands, waiting on your next move.

You put your hands under his shirt, gliding your fingers all over his back. “I know that you’re stressed, and I know you’re dealing with more than you’re telling me” He tensed up when you said that, and you sighed. “I just want you to know no matter what, I’m here for you, so don’t stress yourself out too much, okay?” you could instantly feel him loosening up again from your reassuring words, and it warmed your heart that you could be of assistance to him when he was feeling low.

“Okay, thank you, love,” he whispered, and that’s all you needed to hear from him right now. You were going to let him open up to you when he was ready.

“You have so many knots” He chuckled loudly at that but winced when you pressed down a little too roughly to massage them out. “Sorry,” you said in a tiny voice.

“I think since you hurt me, you should make it better” You rolled your eyes playfully even though he couldn’t see you. You lifted up his shirt and leaned down, placing a few kisses there as his breath hitched in his throat.

“Better?” You asked.

“Much better” He squeezed onto the cushion under him, eyes rolling back in his head, and he might have been enjoying this a little too much as he felt himself getting more and more turned on by the second.

After successfully working out the knots in his back, you told him to roll over on his back once more. “Ooh, what’s next?” He said giddily.

“I’m glad you asked,” you smirked. “Take off all your clothes now,” you said sternly, and the look on his face was completely priceless as he was trying to register what you had just said.

“What? W-why?” He laughed awkwardly and avoided eye contact with you. “I mean, a-are you sure? I haven’t even had the chance to showe-“

“Less questions, more doing” He stood up and quickly got rid of his shirt and pulled down his zip before dropping his pants.

“Those too,” you said after looking at his cute, questioning face.

“Okay,” he whispered and took a deep breath feeling overwhelmed by your sudden boldness as he freed himself from the tightness of his boxers, his dick standing up right away from how hard he had already gotten.

You bit your lip at the sight of him. Even after eight years, he still managed to amaze you in every single way.

He laid back down on the sofa as you sat between his legs, gulping loudly while watching you run your fingers over his tense abs.

He put his hands behind his head, biting on his lip softly when you kissed his thighs, and somehow, just that little bit was enough to make him impatient.

“Baby… I’m really sorry, but I don’t think I can wait” His dick twitched at the same time the words left his mouth. As much as he wanted to see what else you had in store for him, he’d have to find out another time cause, right now. He couldn’t wait to feel your mouth around him.

“Don’t apologize, baby, just relax tonight is all about you” You kissed his tip, a string of clear precum creating a connection between your lips and his pinkish tip.

You licked his warm shaft running your tongue along the protruding veins. “Shit baby, you always know how to make me feel so good” His stomach was tensing with every wet lick and swirl of your warm tongue.

Wordlessly you locked eyes with him and took half of him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down slowly.

“Oh fuck” he whined, eyes rolling back in his head immediately. It had been a while since you and him both got to spend intimate time together and just being like this with you after so long was like a dream come true.

He really missed this. He missed the feeling of your loving touch, and he missed being able to hold you and kiss you and tell you how much you mean to him in the privacy of your bedroom.

You used your other hand to stroke what couldn’t fit down your throat, and his moans increased in volume as he impatiently bucked his hips up, gagging you when he did so. “Sorry, it just feels so g-good,” he moaned, chest heaving up and down as he opened his eyes and stared down at you sucking him nearly all the way in while your hand made its way to his balls, cupping them gently just the way you knew he liked. “That’s it, love, just like that.”

You hummed around his shaft as he slid further down your throat till your lips were stretched around his thick base.

He moved his hand from behind his head, stroking your cheek lightly, before placing it on the back of your head, not to guide you but just so he could feel closer to you. “I’m so close,” he whispers shakily while feeling his tip hitting the back of your throat as you hallowed your cheeks.

Seconds later, you could feel his warm liquid invading your mouth and trickling down your throat. You kept your head still as he bucked his hips up and unknowingly gagged you again, causing you to tighten up around him. “Fuck baby,” he releases a low growl as you feel the rhythmic pulsating of his cock on your tongue.

You sucked him through his high, careful not to hurt him, knowing how sensitive he always was after cumming.

He watched you pull off of him as he caught his breath. He cupped your cheek with his palm and wiped the remaining cum off the corner of your lips with his thumb. “That was wonderful,” he chuckled breathlessly.

You smiled at him and leaned down again, kissing his abdomen to his stomach and all the way to his sweaty chest, stopping and swirling your tongue around his perky nipple while your free hand flicked the other hardened nub.

His little whimpers turned you on like crazy, but you ignored your pleasure cause right now, everything was about him and him only, and besides, his pleasure was your pleasure anyways.

He clutched onto your shirt tightly as you switched to his other nipple pulling it between your lips gently.

You could feel him arching up into you as he hugged you tightly to his body. “Y/n fuck, I need to feel you now,” he cried out, and you knew when he said it like that, he meant right this instant.

“I’m all yours,” that’s all he needed to hear, and then he was leaning up and taking you in his arms to the shower as you sucked and kissed all over his beautiful neck.

After your intimate time in the shower, he ran a bath for you both.

He was lying in the tub with hazy eyes, slowly stroking your shoulders and drawing random shapes on your skin, occasionally covering you with the suds from the bubbles he added.

“I’m serious, you know?” You brought up the conversation from earlier, and you heard him sighing behind you as you clasped your hand with his. “Just think about it for me, please?” You scooted closer to him, and he held your waist with his other hand.

“What exactly are you asking me to do, baby?” he kissed your neck sensually, and you tilted your head to the side, giving him access to nibble and gently bite your skin.

“I’m asking you to quit,” you put it simply as you reached your hand behind you and pulled him closer by his neck as he sucked even more hickeys on your skin.

“You know I can’t do that,” he mumbled, too occupied with kissing you to respond with a longer explanation.

“You can and you will. I can’t stand seeing you so tired, hee, you know that”

“I know, I know” He moved his head next to yours and spoke lowly into your ear. “Okay,” he caved in, but he knew you were right. He could work for ten years straight for seven days a week, but if he stayed at that dead-end restaurant, it still wouldn’t be enough to give you the life he wants you and him to have.

“Don’t worry about a thing. I have us, okay?” You reassured him, and it would be hard for him to accept that for a while but with you, he knew everything would be okay.

“Okay,” he nibbled on your ear lobe, using the tip of his tongue to lick the shell of your ear. “Well, since I’m now jobless, I think I have an idea of what to do with all this free time.”

“Yeah? Tell me all about it.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll tell you everything when we get to the bedroom.”

You chuckled, blushing at his little insinuation. You knew neither of you would be getting any sleep tonight.

“Morning, my love,” heeseung whispered in the quietness of your bedroom.

“Morning,” you greeted him back groggily with your morning voice.

“Last night was great” His smile reached the corner of his eyes, creating those little wrinkles on his face that you loved so much.

“It really was” You brushed some hair out of his eyes and stroked his cheek.

“What are your plans for today, Hmm?”

“Recording, recording, and more recording,” you sighed.

“Right,” he frowned. He wasn’t taking this time apart well at all, you were literally his everything, and without you, he couldn’t help but feel like a piece of him was missing. “Don’t worry too much, alright?” he kissed the hand that was resting on his cheek still. “I heard you last night. It was beautiful” He kissed your forehead sweetly.

“Really?” You asked with puppy eyes.

“Really” He smiled but frowned when you got out of bed.

Your eyes had landed on the clock, and you were almost late for your studio session today. “On no, I’m gonna be late” You rushed out of bed and messily grabbed some clothes.

“I can drive you,” heeseung offered, about to stand up, but you pushed his chest so he could lie back down.

“I’m gonna be gone till midnight. My schedule is completely packed. You just rest till I get back, okay?” you kissed him when he tried to protest, and he just flopped back down on the pillows.

You quickly did your hair and freshened up in the bathroom. “Bye, babe,” you said before bolting out of the door, not even giving him a chance to say it back.

“Bye, I love you,” he mutters to himself. “What am I gonna do now?”

Heeseung did absolutely nothing all day but sleep until he felt the bed dip down as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

The clock read 2:17 am, and his heart ached for you as he hugged your tired body closer to his chest. “Goodnight, love,” he whispered to you.

“Night, hee,” that’s all you could say before you both fell fast asleep.

Things went like this for the next couple of months, you coming home late, and heeseung was left at the apartment alone, and lately, the tension between you and heeseung grew over just the littlest things. You both had been exhausted him emotionally while you physically, and when he took it upon himself to clean your desk in the studio cause he was bored, that just opened the door for an argument to ensue. Although that was far from his intention, he just figured instead of being lazy while you were out winning the bread, he could at least surprise you with a tidied up workspace.

But apparently, that wasn’t as good of an idea as he originally thought.

“I don’t understand why you would even touch it,” you say, annoyed you had come back early from rehearsals, and nothing was the way you had left it, and now you couldn’t find your lyric sheets. “Can you do anything right?” You said irritatedly.

“Love, I’m sorry I just wanted to do something nice for you, that’s all,” he mumbled, feeling guilty that he messed up your things. “I put it in the top drawer with the rest” He could have sworn he did.

“If you want to do something nice for me, you can get out of my sight. I leave soon, and now I won’t have time to pack or practice cause you had to do something stupid,” you snapped.

“I can pack for you,” heeseung offered.

“Don’t bother. You’ll probably just mess up something else.” You angrily leafed through all the scattered papers. “Useless,” you mumbled, but he heard it loud and clear.

That was it. He wasn’t going to stand for your behavior anymore. It’s fine if you’re irritated. He understood that, but he wasn’t going to allow you to disrespect him.

“Stop!” He raised his voice at you, and you flinched. He took long strides over to your desk and pinned you against it with his large frame pressing your back into the knobs on the drawers that dug into your flesh as he stared down at you, and his heavy breath fanned across your face. “Don’t talk to me like that ever again.”

You stood still, heart beating rapidly in your chest. “I-I’m sor,” you muttered with fear in your eyes, and his expression softened a bit, but he still remained stern.

“I put those fucking sheets together. It was you that moved them” He pressed his lips onto yours, roughly taking your breath away from his hard tone yet soft touch.

He separated from you momentarily and stripped your shirt off, leaving your top half fully exposed from your lack of a bra. He squeezed your breasts roughly, and you moaned into his mouth as his tongue swirled with yours.

You moved your hands from the desk pulling his shirt up, and he smirked into the kiss, moving back so you could pull his shirt off, leaving his dark hair messy atop his head. “Hee,” you whimper.

“Be quiet” He pushed you roughly into the desk, rutting his hardened bulge against you. “I’m gonna get rid of this bitchy attitude of yours” Never ever has he talked to you like that before, and for some reason, you kind of like this new side of him. The thought of him putting you in your place excited you.

He stuck his hand in your shorts, palming over your mound and grazing your clit with his palm.

You threw your head back and moaned loudly as he zeroed in on your neck, leaving sloppy wet kisses behind your ear, decorating your neck in red marks that would be a deep purple by tomorrow.

He took his hand outside of your shorts and pulled them down around your ankles. He kissed you as best as he could while he pulled his pants and underwear down, the jean material pooling at his feet. “Turn around,” he ordered and shoved your face against your stupid work desk. “If you’re gonna apologize, you better do it right,” he smacked your ass harshly. “Say it!” another loud smack bounced off the walls in the small studio. “Why so quiet now, hmm? Just a moment ago, you weren’t shy to call me useless” He stuck his fingers in your wet cunt without warning, pumping them in you roughly.

“Fuck!” Your legs were already shaking as you tried to hold yourself up by placing your hands flat on your desk. The brutal pace of his fingers was mind-numbing as you helplessly clamped down around his digits.

“Cause you know I didn’t fuck up your stupid little lyric sheets, is that it?” He slapped your ass again, completely unforgiving with the strength of his harsh smacks.

Now that he mentioned it, you did remember seeing them earlier, but you don’t know where you put them, and you were too full of yourself to admit it. “I don’t k-know,” you lied.

“Sure? Cause I think you do” He slowed the pace of his fingers gradually until he came to a sudden pause. “If not, then I guess I was wrong” He smirked behind you, pulling out his fingers that were sticky with your essence and sucking on them greedily.

You were still bent over, clenching around nothing and trying to back your ass up to feel him and have him touch you in any way, but he didn’t.

“Guess I don’t need to fuck the attitude out of you after all,” you heard his belt rustling behind you, indicating that he was going to pull his pants back up and leave you bent over, unsatisfied and still aching for his cock.

“No! Please, I’m sorry it was me I-I moved them,” you admitted embarrassingly. “I’m sorry.” You whimpered.

He turned you over and lifted you on top of your desk, messing up everything he had just cleaned and organized. “Say it like you mean it” He stared down at you smirking at how needy and desperate you looked as you spread your legs wide open just for him.

He rubbed his leaking tip between your legs, coating himself in your wetness as you held onto his waist for support.

You kept your lips sealed, but after a minute of his heavy cock gliding across your pussy and teasing your clit with his wet tip, you couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to feel him.

You were going to apologize again, but thankfully he had mercy on you and pushed it inside, stretching you out with his big tip.

However, he didn’t have mercy on you like you once thought cause he stayed still after that, not moving even an inch.

“Please, hee, I’m so sorry. I’ll never say anything like that again,” you begged with tears almost in your eyes.

“I know you won’t” He pushed in all the way without warning, splitting your pussy open on his dick as he nestled deep inside you. “I’m gonna make sure of that” He put his hand on your throat, choking you lightly as he slammed into you, his hips colliding with your thighs as fast clapping noises filled up your studio. “The only thing you’re gonna be saying when I’m done with you is my name,” he grunted loudly while plowing into you ruthlessly, not bothering to even let you adjust properly.

“Heeseung,” you choked, barely able to speak from his grip on your throat and the brutal pace of his hips as your walls squeezed around his dick. “Fuck” you moan.

“Not so useless now, am I? I feel your little pussy sucking me right in.” His hips stuttered a bit, feeling you clench on him even tighter from the filthy words he spoke to you. “Open up that dirty little mouth” You did as he said, opening your mouth wide for him.

He spat in your mouth while fucking into you faster. Your fucked out state was making him go completely animalistic the longer you stared at him, and you were unable to speak cause how good he was doing you. Finally, after months, you were finally paying attention to him and only him in this shitty little studio of yours.

His swollen balls smacked against your ass. You spread your legs wider trying to feel every inch of him even though he was already buried to the hilt inside you and kissing your cervix repeatedly with his tip. “Nothing to say now, huh?” He teased, loving how you looked at him with your watery eyes, mouth full of his spit as you let him take you raw on your precious work desk.

He moved his hand from your neck, and his saliva trickled down your throat. You swallowed every last drop of it, eyes rolling back when his hips snapped into you, roughly jerking you back and forth on the desk.

You choked out his name as best as you could but stopped halfway when he rubbed your sensitive bud that was pulsating and desperately in need of his attention.

“Gonna cum already?” He chuckled and bit his lip, eyebrows clashing together as he slid in and out of you. “So much for me not being able to do anything right” His eyes flickered down to your breasts that were sloshing from his vigorous pace, and just the sight and the sound of your squelching pussy each time he rammed into was enough to have him mere seconds away from coming.

“Yes, hee,” you dug your nails into his waist while biting your lip. “I’m so close.”

He winced from the slight pain, but that only brought him more pleasure. “Cum on my cock, baby,” he circled your clit with his thumb, sending you to your breaking point as you came around his cock with silent cries of his name. “oh fuck!” He moaned loudly as he came from the tightness of your pussy clenching around him so deliciously, filling your insides with his warm cum.

He leaned down, locking his lips with yours, tiredly thrusting inside you as he finished at the same time with you.

He touched his sweaty forehead with yours breathing heavily as his legs began to feel numb.

You cupped his cheek and brought him in for a short but passion-filled kiss. “I’m sorry, hee,” you apologized again for lashing out at him. You truly felt bad. “It was all my faul-“

“Shhh, don’t worry, love. I understand. Let’s just forget about it and get you cleaned up. You had a long day” He pulled out and picked you up off your desk, as multiple sheets fell off of it. It was the ones you were searching so frantically for. “I’ll pretend I didn’t just see that,” he chuckled, and you hid in his chest.

“Thank you,” you muttered shyly as he walked you to the bathroom.

“Are you okay?” He asked once you got in the shower and cleaned you gently with his hands. “I didn’t hurt you anywhere, did I?” He looked at you with worry in his eyes. He knew he had gone rougher than usual due to his own frustrations at the time.

“No baby, you could never hurt me,” you assure him.

“Okay,” he whispers and kisses you slowly as he trails his hands up your sides, and you wrap your arms around his neck.”

“I love you, hee” You rested your head on his chest, listening to his calming heartbeat as the warm water from the shower cascaded down your bodies.

“Of course you love me,” he giggled, and you smiled. “I’m still going to pack for you, too” You tried to protest, but he just pushed his index finger to your lips. “And I love you too” He hugged you close and cherished what time was left before you had to go on the road.

Unfortunately, as easy as it was to make up after your first couple of fights with mind-blowing sex, now it just wasn’t that simple.

Especially after your schedule kept getting packed as the tour date was approaching, and now you had no time to talk things out cause you were too busy either working or sleeping.

And luck wasn’t on your side today either, as you and heeseung were in your tenth fight this week.

“All I’m saying is that I miss spending time with you. I don’t even get to see you anymore. You’re gone when I wake up. You don’t call or reply to my messages” He rubbed his temple in frustration. “I mean, I wake up at three in the morning to an empty bed, and you can’t even at least answer my calls. I’m just worried about you, baby, that’s all” He tried to hold you, but you didn’t have time for that. There were only a few hours left before you had to go, and here he was, trying to patch things up before you went away for a whole three months, and you just didn’t have the time for him right now.

“I work late, and you know that. I don’t see why you can’t just leave me alone. I have to put my phone on mute 'cause you just won’t stop texting me” You were haphazardly throwing some extra stuff into a suitcase.

“Well, If you’d just answer, I wouldn’t have to keep texting,” he scoffed. “Didn’t know it was a crime to fucking miss my fiancée.”

“How can you miss me when I see you every day?” you argued.

“Yeah! And that’s it, you just see me, you don’t pay attention to me. We haven’t talked in weeks. I only see you running out in the morning. It’s been months since we’ve touched and made love, and I miss you so fucking much. You don’t understand. It’s always so quiet and lonely when you’re not here” He lowers his head and picks at his nails nervously. He hated having these arguments, and he hated that he was having them with you the most.

“You knew this was what you were signing up for” You didn’t know what came over you to treat him so roughly, but he was just wearing you out lately. You had more important things to focus on, and him whining like a baby wasn’t on that list. “I can’t babysit you all the time. Maybe if you did something other than sit home all day and wait for me, you might not feel so lonely,” you spat without even looking at him, completely missing the hurt look that took over his features.

“You’re the one who told me to quit my job, and as soon as I did, you just disappeared from life and acted like you don’t even know me,” he answers with anger laced in his voice. He couldn’t believe the audacity of your words. Him quitting his job was literally your idea.

You sighed. You didn’t have any more time for his nonsense right now. “Well, I don’t care anymore. Go get a job, fly a kite for all I care” You had no idea that you were crushing him to pieces right now, too busy wrapped up in your own world that you forgot he was the reason why you were even here in the first place. “My parents were right about you. You are a deadbeat” You laughed pathetically, letting the stress of the situation go straight to your head and saying any rude thing that came to mind.

You somehow felt like it was justified for you to say such things cause right now, he was the one being hard-headed, not you. He knew you had more things to worry about right now, and he just wasn’t one of them. “I know what it is. You’re just trying to hold me back. I’m this close to my dream, and you just don’t want to see me happy.”

“What the fuck are you even on about?” He did his best to stop his voice from cracking. “I was with you every step of the way. I was there for you when no one else was. I gave you my all 'cause that’s what you deserved, I wanted you to succeed more than anyone else, and you know that” He paused for a moment to compose himself. “But now I’m not so sure anymore” The first tear rolled down his cheek, and he hated it. He hated the fact that, for the first time, he was crying alone. You were no longer sharing pain together now. You were the ones causing it for each other. “I literally fucking proposed to you 'cause I love you. I never would do anything to hurt you or our future.”

“Ha! Love? I’m sure you just were trying to tie yourself to me and use me for my fame.” Little did you know it was you who let the fame get to you. You allowed yourself to feel higher and more important than anyone else, including your own fiancé.

He let out a shocked gasp at your words. For the first time in his life, he was left speechless.

For the first time, he didn’t recognize you as the girl who gave him his first and only hundred-dollar tip.

He saw you as someone who lost their way along the road and forgot where they came from.

This wasn’t the y/n he fell in love with.

As devastating as it was for him, he just couldn’t see you two getting over this. It had been months since you started treating him this way, and It was just too high of a mountain to climb, no matter how much he wanted to be there for you. You just weren’t letting him, nor were you there for him. The last months have been nearly insufferable. He had no idea how much your career would impact the relationship, but the last week has shown him that your job was more important than him, and if he wasn’t your number one anymore, what was the point of all this fighting and suffering just to call you his fiancée?

It wasn’t worth it. Not anymore. It wasn’t.

He couldn’t do this anymore for the first time in the eight years he’s known you. He put himself first. “Since work is more important than us, you can have fun with your new relationship,” he mumbled as his voice finally broke while slipping the ring you got him off his ring finger and setting it in front of you on your desk. “Hopefully, your career can give you more than I ever could,” he turned away, leaving you speechless.

Why couldn’t he just see that you had a life to live? Why couldn’t he just understand your point of view? You thought.

He went to your bedroom and gathered up his stuff quickly. You watched him walk out the front door without looking back, and it was only after he shut the door did you regret everything that had just happened.

The silence crept up on you slowly but surely, and you were still in shock that he was actually gone eight years down the drain in the blink of an eye.

But it was too late now.

You said things that couldn’t be taken back, and even if you apologized, you’re not even sure that would erase all the horrible things you’ve said and done to him in these past months.

You wanted to forget everything and run after him so he could take you back into his arms, but you were scared to, so you foolishly let him go.

Cause If you were him, you wouldn’t take yourself back.

It had already been a year since your tour, and your career had skyrocketed beyond what anyone could have ever expected.

Except for one person.

Heeseung.

He always believed you could do anything. “I was there for you when no one else was” Those words rang in your ears over and over again as tears rolled down your cheeks. You looked down at the city view from your penthouse. “Fuck!” You screamed into the night sky, slamming your empty wine glass on the cold cement.

You tried to forget him, but every time you did anything, he took up every little crevice of your brain, and no matter what, you couldn’t escape him.

Even when you went on dates to try to get over him all you could think of was him, and the late nights he came to the studio bringing the date night to you (as he called it) with his very own cooked steak and your favorite wine.

The one relationship you were in after him (if you could even call it that) was a complete total disaster, and you were stuck dealing with a deadbeat. All he did was complain and tear you down. Criticizing your every move, He never gave you any support, and he was only interested in how much money your next show would net so he could bum off you.

He wasn’t even half the man heeseung was when he was with you.

You stayed with him for months cause you felt like that’s all you deserved, but after you found out that he cheated on you, you quickly broke things off with him.

Not cause you actually were hurt, or you cared about him, but you refused to associate yourself with a person like that.

You sighed at the memory.

Since that train wreck, you looked countless men in the face and turned them down every single last one cause no matter what, you could never get over him. Every time you looked at a man, you could still only ever see heeseung’s face.

All you could think of was heeseung 24/7, and no matter what, he always treated you with the utmost respect. You didn’t always agree with things, and you both had your fights here and there, but he was the first one to apologize and talk things over, always willing to understand your side no matter what.

You missed him so bad you cried yourself to sleep countless nights thinking of what you could have been if you hadn’t been so careless with your words and so dismissive of his feelings. If you could go back in time, you would reverse everything. You wouldn’t even think twice about it.

You couldn’t help but daydream about him coming to your concerts and being your number-one fan, and celebrating your first show together with you. You just know that he would have been so happy for you, and those would have been the best moments of your career, without a doubt.

But if you were being real, you deserved less. He should’ve never been the first one to apologize for all the times you fought. He should have never been made to feel like less cause you put your career over him cause he definitely wasn’t. He was worth more than any career in the whole entire world.

But now, all you could do was hang on to the little bit that was left of him.

You took his engagement band with you everywhere, and you never took yours off except for during interviews, so you wouldn’t raise any questions. You know you should have, but you just wanted to keep everything that made you hold onto the memories of when you two were together and happy.

Some nights, you just wanted to call him and tell him you wanted him back and you didn’t want to see him with anyone else but you, that no one else made you feel the way he did, as selfish as it was, you just wanted to tell him you wanted him to be yours again.

Cause no matter how hard you try. You just couldn’t let him go.

As you stared at the empty bottle of your favorite wine on your nightstand, even that reminded you of him, and like every night since your break up, you cried yourself to sleep.

Heeseung was back at his old restaurant job. Luckily for him, he left on good terms with everyone, and they were happy to have him back cause he was by far the best cook and worker there.

He was currently cooking and serving up dishes, frantically rereading order tickets to make sure he got all the orders correct.

It was only when he hit the bell and yelled, “Order for table fifteen,” that he heard an oh-so-familiar voice. He looked up at one of the TVs in the top left corner of the restaurant, and he was captivated by who he saw.

After a year, he remembers all the lyrics to that song, and he remembers reciting them to you a few weeks before your tour. That was one of his favorites from you.

Heck, all your songs were his favorite.

It was one of the first songs you had ever written. It was about how you two first met.

He couldn’t help but smile as he watched you live your dream. As much as you hurt him, he still just couldn’t forget about you. He tried to go out a little and find someone new, not to replace you but to move on, but that quickly came to an end when every time he even looked at a girl, all he saw was your pretty face.

Yeah, you said some really terrible things, but he knew deep down you didn’t mean that it was just a hard time for you both, but he knew things wouldn’t have worked. That’s why he didn’t go running back to you after all this time apart. He had done some thinking, and though he couldn’t see it right away, he knew your guy's breakup was inevitable.

Apart of him wishes, he didn’t walk out on you that day, but what would have changed? You were too busy for him. There was no longer a slot for him in your busy schedule anymore. He chalked it up to the right people wrong time.

Call him whipped. He didn’t care cause no matter what, you’d always be his girl, and he’d always be your number-one fanboy.

He sang along as he watched you fondly on the TV. He knew you had what it took to get where you are today. A doubt never crossed his mind when he first saw you perform. He knew you were made for it.

As you held the last note of the song, he held his breath, not blinking even once so he could capture this beautiful moment and store it in his heart forever. What could he say? He was a very sentimental guy.

Unknowingly he clapped for you while all his other co-workers were bumping into him and shouting his name so he could get back to work.

“That’s my girl” He smiled proudly as the camera panned back and showed thousands of people in the crowd supporting you.

“In your dreams, kid, now stop daydreaming about a girl that doesn’t even know you exist. I need five more steaks, medium rare” His boss patted his shoulder lightly.

“Yes, chef!” Heeseung answered while wiping his hands on his towel before preparing fresh steaks for all the waiting customers. “If only he knew,” heeseung whispered and smiled to himself.

And if only he had of looked up for just a second, he would have noticed the camera do a close-up of your face and give him a clear view of his engagement band hanging off the dainty chain that you wore around your neck every performance.

As much as heeseung wanted to ignore it, he couldn’t. The billboards were literally everywhere, and he’s not sure if he was zeroed in on them just because it was you or if it was that you were really just that popular that your world tour was marketed on literally everything.

Though it didn’t much matter anyways cause he still saw it, and he had already purchased a front-row ticket to see you live in his city, one that he may have bought on resell, and he also may have spent his months' savings to get it.

He wasn’t stalking you, but he knew you had moved out some time ago after randomly hearing people chatting about you, and he might have watched a couple of your interviews from time to time just to see how you were doing.

Sadly, you never mentioned him in any of them, but why would you? You both literally broke things off a year ago. You probably didn’t even think about him anymore, or maybe you did, but he couldn’t really say.

Of course, he thought of calling though he wasn’t sure why exactly but whenever he did he reached the dial tone it didn’t come as a shock he knew when you moved you changed your number too, but it didn’t stop him from ringing a few times maybe it was just out of habit.

The idea of seeing you after all this time made him extremely nervous, but he just needed to see you one last time in person just to get the last little bit of closure his heart yearned for after missing you for a whole year.

Your nerves were going absolutely crazy. You were about to take the stage in five, and no matter how many shows you had done, this one definitely meant the most to you cause it was in your hometown. It was where everything began.

More importantly, it was where you and your favorite person met and got engaged.

You grabbed his ring, bringing it to your lips and kissing the silver band softly.

You thought back to everything that happened, and you knew no matter how things ended, heeseung was somewhere, and he was proud of you.

That’s just the type of guy he was, never one to harbor any malice in his heart. He was the true definition of an angel.

“On in two,” You heard in the background of your thoughts, and with that, you wiped your tears before straightening out your clothing and taking a deep breath.

“You’re gonna do great,” you muttered to yourself.

That’s what heeseung would have said if he was here right now and if you didn’t have that knowledge, you’re sure you wouldn’t have been able to take the stage.

You looked at the crowd from behind the curtain, and your heart sank even further. As shallow as it sounds and as dramatic as you were being, you couldn’t help but think this is what you traded heeseung for. This is what you gave up the love of your life for.

As you were lost in the thought, the final minutes passed, and before you knew it, you were going up on stage as the crowd roared for you.

Heeseung had been pacing back and forth on his lunch break. Today was the day of your concert, and he was chickening out. He got called into work today on his day off and deemed that to be more important than seeing you.

That’s what he tried to convince himself of, but he knew it was just him being a scaredy cat.

Your concert must have been on for at least an hour, and he had to drive at least half an hour to get to the venue.

Without thinking or notifying any of his co-workers, he got in his same little beater and sped off to the venue as fast as possible.

He may have been honked at, and he may have honked back, but after running at least two red lights and changing lanes without his signal, he was parked in front of the venue, hearing the music blasting throughout the arena.

He dashed out of his car and thanked whatever higher being that was out there cause, luckily for him. They haven’t shut the doors yet.

He got a couple of weird looks as he made his way through the crowd, still in his work uniform, but he didn’t care as he nearly tripped while trying to find his seat, row 1, seat 7. What coincidence, he thought you sat at table number 7 the night he first saw you, and now he was sitting in seat 7 the first time he saw you perform. “Lucky number 7,” he said and smiled.

Once he found his seat, he looked up from his ticket, and his heart nearly stopped as he heard the last bit of your latest song.

His mouth parted in awe, and in the moment, he wasn’t sad and thinking about your breakup. He wasn’t going to see you to try and win you back.

He just wanted to watch his baby perform in front of thousands in your guy’s hometown, just like you and him always talked about always dreamed about.

Once your song ended, the lights dimmed, and you went backstage to change your outfit, getting ready to sing your unreleased song.

It was something special you had prepared just for this stop in your hometown.

You knew it would only break your heart even more to do this, but you had to. It felt right.

You changed into the same outfit the day heeseung proposed to you, looking at yourself with a forced smile in the mirror. You prepared yourself for your final song.

The loud cheers were drowned out by your seemingly never-ending thoughts today. The concert was everything you dreamed of and more it’s just too bad that Heeseung wasn’t here to see how far you’ve come.

You just wished you hadn’t said what you said and did what you did. It was selfish and hurtful, and you can’t imagine what he must have felt like. He literally sacrificed so much for you. But you were too stuck up to put yourself in his shoes for one day. You think maybe if you had of just listened to him one of the countless times he tried to express how he was feeling, maybe that dreadful day would have never come, and maybe he’d be in the front row watching and cheering you on right now as you sang your 15th and final song of the night.

Your feet moved on their own as you walked onto the dark stage. You stood in the middle, a spotlight shining above you that slowly panned back to the crowd, now giving the room a warm feel.

Everyone cheered loudly once you came back out on the stage, and you thanked them with a warm smile once they had quieted down a bit. “I have something special planned, but before I perform my last song, I’d just like to thank each and every one of you for coming out tonight.”

You were overwhelmed by the crowd noise, but you were so grateful for how loved you were by so many. “As a lot of you know, this is my hometown, and I made my first hit single in a little studio just about fifteen minutes from here” The crowd went silent and held on to every word as you gave your final speech. You were even more grateful for how respectful your fans were. “Performing here has always been my dream, and now that it has become a reality, this moment now holds a special place in my heart, and I’ll never forget this for years to come” You fought back the tears and tried to finish. What you prepared without getting too emotional.

“You can do it,” Heeseung muttered as he watched you wiping a few stray tears and holding the mic up to your mouth once more as the crowd encouraged you by cheering and whistling. “That’s my strong girl” He smiled proudly as you started to speak again.

“One thing a lot of you don’t know is that I used to share that studio with my boyfriend, well actually fiancé and now ex” You could hear the crowd gasping at the news that you’ve never told anyone, not even your parents cause you knew no matter what you told them they’d blame it all on heeseung and he didn’t deserve that especially cause it was all your fault.

Heeseung immediately froze up. Were you talking about him?

No.

You must be talking about someone you met after him, he quickly concluded.

“I wrote this song for him because he’s the reason I’m standing on this stage tonight in front of you all right now when no one else believed in me. He did. When I couldn’t afford the rent for the studio, he worked extra shifts just to make my dream come true.”

This sounded a lot like the experiences you both went through, but heeseung didn’t want to get his hopes up. It’s been a year. You could have had multiple ex’s by now, for all he knows.

“I never forgot the day he proposed to me. It was the best day of my life. My first single had just finished playing on the radio, and out of nowhere, he popped the question, and of course, I said yes” You smiled softly.

Now he was positive you were talking about him, and he teared up immediately. He remembers that day like yesterday. No wonder you were wearing that outfit. It all made sense to him now, and he was more than grateful that you mentioned him at your live show.

“Everything seemed to be perfect. My career was taking off. We were going to get married in the summer of last year, but my tour came up, and we spent less time together and more time fighting until one day, I said a lot of things that I didn’t mean, and that led us to break up” you said heartbroken you knew you were sharing a little bit too much, but you hoped after performing here and getting all this weight off your chest it would help you heal even just a little bit.

More loud gasps and murmurs were heard, but you didn’t let it get to you too much cause people always had something to say, rather it was good or bad.

Heeseung couldn’t stand to watch you so vulnerable up there and all alone. He wanted to jump on stage and pull you in his arms and tell you that everything was okay.

“As bad as this might sound if I could, I’d trade my career to have him back” You took a deep breath. “I’d give up all this just to call him mine again.”

“Stop saying nonsense,” heeseung’s voice cracked as he smiled sadly, a tear escaping his eye and trickling down his cheek.

“If he were here, I would tell him I’m sorry for everything and that he was right and tell him just how much I still love him” No matter how hard you tried to fight it, you couldn’t hide the pain in your voice as you spoke those words straight from your heart.

“I love you too, baby. I promised I’d never stop loving you” He’s a thousand percent sure he was getting weird stares, but once again, he didn’t care. Nothing else mattered but you, him, and this once in a lifetime moment.

You tried to lighten the mood a bit before your last song. “Oh, and one more thing, I’m in the mood for steak,” you laughed, and so did the crowd. Even though they had no idea what you meant by that, you knew heeseung would, though, but you were still thankful that they played along.

“Always in the mood for steak,” He laughed quietly and blinked his tears away, dabbing his nose.

You gave the crew a thumbs up, and your final song played. “Thank you all for coming tonight. It has been an honor to perform here. This is my unreleased song dedicated to my wonderful ex-fiancé. It’s called “Nobody gets me,” you spoke softly into the mic. “Thank you for everything, and thank you to everyone who traveled to come see me. Please have a safe trip home. I love you all.” You blew a kiss to the audience.

Heeseung was taking in the moment glancing at the crowd as they all watched you with phones in their hands and the flashlight on. This is what you both always dreamed of big lights, thousands of people, and him proudly cheering for you in the crowd.

Halfway through the song, his ears perked up at the familiar words you sang.

♪ Nobody gets me like you.

How am I supposed to let you go? Only like myself when I'm with you.

Nobody gets me. You do♪

He remembered telling you those words the day he proposed, and his heart nearly leaped from his chest.

You remembered.

♪If I'm real, I deserve less If I was you, I wouldn't take me back. I pretend when I'm with a man, it's you, And I know that it's too late.♪

The next few lines made his heartache. He didn’t feel that way at all. He would have taken you back in a heartbeat if you had of just called and apologized.

♪I don't wanna lose what's left of you.♪

You subtly pointed to the engagement band around your neck, and he didn’t miss it. If his eyes were correct, that was his ring.

After seeing that there was no way he was going to leave without seeing you again, he had so many questions to ask.

Your eyes searched the faces in the crowd, something you did from time to time to connect with your audience. You saw one face that stood out from the rest, and you could have sworn you were dreaming or someone was playing tricks on you cause there’s no way lee heeseung, your ex-fiancé slash love of your life, was watching you perform with the brightest smile on his face.

But even when you blinked and looked again, he was still there, giving you a shy wave with a sheepish smile as you teared up. The song was coming to a close, and you only looked at him the whole time.

♪You do Nobody gets me, you do (do) You do Nobody gets me, you do (do, ooh) You do, Nobody gets me, you do (do, ooh)♪

You looked directly into his eyes, not blinking for even a second as you closed out the song with tears in your eyes.

♪Nobody gets me. You do.♪

The lights dimmed, and all you heard were cheers as you made your way to the dressing room, clutching your chest while everyone congratulated you on your amazing performance backstage.

What is he doing here?

How was he here?

Why was he here?

Did a friend drag him here, or did he actually come to see you so? Many questions were swirling in your head, and it gave you a headache.

You were nearly hyperventilating as you took a drink from your cold water bottle.

You had been sitting there thinking about the last performance thinking about the way he looked at you with that beautiful smile of his.

He looked just the same.

“There you are,” you heard the voice of one of your managers. “Look who came to see you,” Steve smiled. He had known you and heeseung since way back, all the way back before you made your first single. He was the one that set up your tour last summer. He didn’t know why he started seeing less and less of heeseung as time passed or how you two ended, but when he asked. You just told him you were taking a break, and he never brought it up again since you seemed sensitive about the topic.

You turned in your seat, having a feeling you already knew who it was, and when your eyes met, you could have sworn you stopped breathing.

There he was in all of his beauty, and you smiled slightly when you saw him still wearing his chef jacket.

He smiled back at you shyly, and wow, were you absolutely gorgeous, just the way he remembered you. He knew it’s only been a year, but still. “Thank you, Steve. I owe you one,” heeseung shook your manager's hand.

“Hey, how about one of your infamous steaks? Since we’re in town,” Steve patted heeseung on the back with a light chuckle.

“You got it,” heeseung agreed, and Steve waved at you both before leaving you two alone.

Now that heeseung was alone with you for the first time in a year, the nerves had built up all over again. Still, he took confident strides toward you before he could even make it to you. You were already sprinting over to him with tears in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him tightly.

You knew you had no right to, but you couldn’t help yourself.

He automatically welcomed you into his embrace, and it felt like you were never apart for even a second. That’s just how familiar you felt to him.

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t cry, it’s okay,” he shushed you and patted your head softly.

“I’m so sorry,” you said over and over again. Finally, after a year, you could say the words that you should have said the day he left, even before the day he left.

His heart broke at the sound of your weak sobs, and he couldn’t help but tear up as well. He always cried when you cried cause no matter what, he never wanted you to be alone in anything that you did. If you were happy, he was happy with you. If you were sad, he was sad. He was never in between. “It’s all okay now, baby. I forgive you.”

When he said baby, you literally froze in your tracks and pulled away from him. “Baby?” You asked with a confused tone fighting back a smile after hearing him call you that after so long.

“Yes, you never stopped being my baby” You pulled him even closer to you, pressing a kiss on his lips, both of you getting a taste of the salty tears that stained both your cheeks.

“Hee,” you mumbled breathlessly and looked him in the eyes. You were so nervous about doing this, but you had to. You pulled away from the hug and unclasped your necklace, taking off his ring. “I-“He had already outstretched his hand, waiting for you to slip his ring back on his finger where it belonged. “I love you so much, hee” He pulled you into another tight hug, rocking you back and forth gently.

“I love you too, I love you, I love you, I love you” He playfully kissed every inch of your face, and though few words were shared since seeing him again, your performance and his silver ring shining on his finger said more than a million words.

You giggle, and it was music to his ears to hear after so long. You played with his little cravat on his chef jacket just like before, and he smiled brightly. “So, are you still in the mood for steak?” He chuckled with a raise of his brow.

“I’m always in the mood for steak” He hooked his arm around your waist, leading you two out of the back of the venue. You’d get Steve to cover for you for your sudden disappearance.

“That’s my girl” He leaned down and kissed your lips sweetly as you clutched onto him tighter. “Just wait till chef sees this,” he smiles proudly at you.

You just looked at him quizzically, and he just gave you a smile. “Did you enjoy the concert?” You ask him excitedly.

“Well……” he chuckles nervously. “How about we talk about it over dinner, Hmm?”

“Sure” The smile never left either of your faces as you drove to the restaurant in his beater, hand in hand.

As you look at him, he stares back at you with that one-in-a-billion smile of his, you made a promise to yourself to never hurt him again, and you swore you’d do whatever it took to keep him and that beautiful smile on his precious face.

Cause you’d never find anyone else that gets you like him.

FIN.

Thank you for reading. Please reblog and leave feedback! - 🐹

#enhypen heeseung smut #heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung #enhypen smut #enhypen lee heeseung smut #Spotify #heeseung #enhypen #lee heeseung #enhypen hard hours #heeseung x reader #smut #heeseung angst #enhypen heeseung fluff #enhypen angst #kpop #fanfic

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benedictscanvas · 1 year

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Would love a request where something sweet has been brewing between Roy and reader since she came and sat with him in the locker room after his injury and she’s been working up the nerve to tell him her feelings but hasn’t yet and it all comes to a head when she sees him walking onto the field in his coach suit 😍 maybe she’s still been going to games in his jersey even if he isn’t playing but he didn’t know till he saw her after he coached that game

ooooh you know what i like. this is good stuff, thank you so much, i've already written this dressing room scene once so i hope this is different enough!! | 2k words, tw language, some miscommunication but it all works out

You sat up in the owner's box with Rebecca, screaming at the top of your lungs for the club you love with all your heart. Of course, you used to have a season ticket before you were head of recruitment at the club, but your seats were never quite this good. The team were never this promising, either. There were many reasons why you now loved Richmond more than ever.

One of those reasons wasn't there, however. Roy Kent, the prick, had stuck around just long enough to let you fall madly in love with him and then disappeared into thin air once he retired.

The only time you ever saw him now was on the TV, if he was on Match of the Day on a Saturday night or you'd recorded a match just to watch his punditry. He was angry and rude and refused to bash the younger players 'cause he knew what that felt like. You swooned every time you watched, so you tried not to watch very often anymore.

"He'll come back eventually," Rebecca smiled at you, seeing the telltale drop of your smile and guessing the reason for it instantly, "You know that man won't be able to stay away from you for long."

"He's been doing a great job of it so far," you muttered bitterly and Rebecca only shook her head at you fondly and returned her attention to the players lining up beside the match officials. You knew part of her statement to be true - Roy wouldn't be able to stay away from Richmond, his family, forever. But you? Maybe she had overestimated your importance.

---

"Roy?"

You knew you categorically shouldn't be here, but it just wasn't enough to stop you. Roy was in pain and nothing else mattered. When you pushed open the dressing room door tentatively, you let out a sigh of relief at the sight of him.

"Y/N?" his voice is strangled and doesn't sound like him at all. He stares at you for a few moments before he bows his head between his knees, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"So rude," you murmur, walking over to sit near him but on the floor, not wanting to crowd his space, "I'm just here, okay?"

Roy grunts. Then:

"I don't want you here."

"Okay."

He looks down at you, assessing for a few moments. You're not moving, just sitting still, staring at the door rather than him. When he buries his face in his hands rather than shouting at you to get out, you scoot closer to him, close enough to rest your head on his good knee, wrap a hand around his calf firmly.

He's shuddering a little, but there's no sound of crying. You know he's trying to hide his tears and there's no use telling him not to.

"I'm just here," you repeat, and he leans his head over, still buried in his hands, until your temples are pressed together. Like he needs the contact. Like he needs you.

---

But that was then. Now, it had been a couple of months and your one brave text to him remained unanswered. It had only been checking up on him and you should have known he wouldn’t reply to something so benign, but you figured it was worth a try. Clearly, you’d been wrong.

The match had started, despite you getting lost in distractions of your own making. You tried to get into the game, shouting for Sam and Jamie loudly at the front of the pack but to no avail. A huge cheer rang out in the crowd all of a sudden, although nothing had happened on the pitch. You glanced at Rebecca questioningly, and saw her staring open-mouthed at the tunnel, so you followed her gaze.

Your lips parted. There was a gasp lodged in your throat. Roy Kent, in all his black-suited glory, was striding down the touch line towards the coaches, where he took his rightful spot beside them to the delight of the crowd. You gripped the railing in front of you desperately as you stared at him. He was here. He was back.

Taking the cue from Rebecca, you joined in the familiar chant of his name, trying to blink back the tears in your eyes. Whether he’d talk to you or not, whether you’d misread everything between you in weeks gone by, you were overjoyed for him - he was back where he belonged.

It may have still been another draw, but it didn’t feel all that frustrating this time. You weren’t sure where to go, whether to go in search for him or wait for a better time. While sat in your car agonising over your decision, there’s a loud knock on your window and you almost hit your head on the roof as you jump, startled.

Roy hovers outside your window, looking bashful, for once. You wind the window down.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, even though you know in your heart you should be saying ‘Hello’ and ‘I missed you’ and ‘I love you more than anything’.

“What does it fuckin’ look like? I’m coaching. Turns out I can be good at more than one thing.”

It was something you’d said to him when he was leaving, when he was refusing to stay and try his hand at coaching. You’d known even then that he would be perfect for the job, but that he was in his own head, getting in his own way. He insisted and you relented, but reminded him of a few of the talents he had. Told him he could be good at more than one thing. You’d no idea he had actually taken your sentiment on board at all until now.

“No, I meant-“ you sigh as you stare up at him, then unlock the door and step out the car to talk to him. It’s painful when he takes a step back to give you space, “I meant, isn’t there a Ted Talk you should be listening to right now?”

“Ted Talk? Nice one,” he says, small smile on his face, but its still tentative. It falls completely when you fold your arms and lean against the car, still staring at him, “I told him I had something to fucking do, alright? Something important.”

“Right. Which is?”

“Fuck, okay,” he swears, like he hadn’t been expecting to launch right into it, “I’m fucking sorry. And I fucking love you. Fucking want to be with you.”

Your heart is fit to burst out of your chest with each extra sentence. Still, its been months. You need more.

“You’ll need to elaborate on those. All three.”

Roy shakes his head as he stares at the ground. But when he looks back up at you, he must see the look in your eyes - the one willing him on, the one pleading with him to give you more so that you can cave.

"Fuck," he mutters again, a broken record, "Okay. I'm sorry I left without fucking saying anything. And then you texted me and I still didn't, like fucking idiot. I am a fucking idiot. I didn't know what to say or how to say what I wanted to say so I didn't say anything. Fuck, am I even saying anything right now?"

He was rambling somewhat, but there was no world in which you were going to tell him that.

"Yes. Keep going."

He huffed, but carried on regardless, hands in his pockets as he stared down at you, clearly determined to keep eye contact so you could believe every word.

"I didn't know how to talk to you when I didn't have work as an excuse. Like if I spoke to you, you'd know I was actually only talking to you because of how I fucking feel about you. Then, when I realised I wanted to coach, I also realised I should just be telling you how I feel about you anyway. I'm so fucking sorry, Y/N."

You try and digest his words quickly enough, because he's practically spat them out.

"Yeah, okay. I get that. It just sucked. More than anything else, I thought we were friends."

He growls, but you get the feeling it's at himself rather than you.

"We were. We fucking are. I couldn't talk to anyone after I left. Couldn't even come back here. Just felt...god, it felt fucking shit. But I've come to terms with it now, you know, the fucking retirement. I've got a lot of apologising to do."

"This is a pretty good start. I know it must have been hard, Roy," you try to sound as sincere as you feel, "I wanted to be there for you so fucking badly. But I get it. Really."

"You do?"

"Yeah. And I'm sorry for not pushing it. A proper friend would have been banging on your door to let me in so I could fucking check on you. I gave up a bit."

He scoffed, but didn't reply. It was more true than you'd previously realised. Maybe what Roy really needed during that time, rather than a half-hearted text message was some loud and proud support. You could forgive him if he could forgive you.

"We're good," you confirm, when he still doesn't say anything. His expression is unreadable as he stares at you, hands still in his pockets but fidgeting there. Dying to break free, "That's the first one covered. Continue."

"The first one...? Oh," he says as he realises what you mean, and there are butterflies fluttering up a storm in your stomach as he takes a step forward and continues in a sinfully low tone, "I fucking love you. Like, really. I know you won't fucking believe me, because it's out of the blue or whatever, but it isn't. Tell me this hasn't been coming for the past year?"

He takes another step forward as he says it, forces you to look up at him, crowds you against the car but with enough space for an exit if you want one.

You never, ever want one.

"Yeah, maybe an 'I like you' has been coming," you say instead, because you need him to confirm it. Need him to explain exactly what he's feeling so you can see if you match up, "I love you is another level."

"Yeah, and it's our fucking level, Y/N," he says through gritted teeth, "I love you. It's so fucking easy and simple, or it would have been if I'd said it two months ago. I'll do whatever you want to make up for all that fucking lost time."

"You seem very sure I'm going to reciprocate this in some way," you say, almost teasing. You believe what he's saying. You can't come back down to earth. Reaching forward on a whim, you grab his hand in yours and tug him that final step towards you, enough that he has to rest his hands on either side of you on the car.

"You're telling me," he murmurs, leaning in so that his breath just brushes against your outer ear, "You feel absolutely fucking nothing right now? Even though we haven't talked in months...and you're wearing my name on your back?"

You felt the heat all the way down in the tips of your toes. You'd forgotten what you were wearing. Of course, you still wore your Kent shirt. It was a prized possession - he'd signed the inside label.

"You like that shit?"

"I love that shit," he groans, "Fucking hot. You're telling me it means fucking nothing?"

"No," you hiss back, satisfied in making him work for it, "I'm telling you that I fucking love you too, you idiot."

And he's kissing you before you can comprehend it. Devouring you, even. You forgot about asking him to explain number three, but it didn't really matter. Roy did plenty of elaborating in his own way for the rest of the evening.

#roy kent x reader #roy kent #ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #roy kent x you #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #roy kent oneshot #roy kent fluff

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teapartyprincess4two · 6 months

Note

I need a friends to lovers hurt/comfort fic from you pleaseeee. My request is that reader is upset because something happened with her family and she got daddy issues or something (definitely not projecting😜🥰). matt doesn't know what's wrong tho but tries to cheer her up by getting her a cake or something and then as she's eating she starts unintentionally slowly crying and she tries to hide it but matt ofc notices it straight away. he tries to comfort her but before they could get further and she could start opening up nick & chris came in and she immediately stops and pretends to be fine. they joked around and stuff cuz nick & chris are oblivious to everything the whole time and matt is just impatiently waiting for the time when they get to be alone so he can talk to her and figure out whats wrong. maybe later in the night when everyone's asleep he finally approaches y/n and then they slow talk and he just comforts her and idk just more fluff at the end? change whatever you'd like I'd just be happy enough if you even decide to do my request. thank u and ily <3

Happy Birthday- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Waitress!reader x Bff!Coworker!Matt

classification: sad, fluff

warnings: use of y/n, cursing, mention of parental issues, mention of family problems, mention of death of parent, mention of alcohol addiction

inspiration: request^^ took a spin on this, hope u like it bby

summary: Over the course of working together for years, Matt picks up on everything and despite not understanding it completely, he comforts you through the hurt.

—

“Sorry I’m late,” your voice is choppy as you try catching your breath. Quick fingers work towards tying your apron around your waist before flying towards your hair and throwing it up in a haphazard pony tail. You’re an hour late for your shift, an extremely rare occurrence for you.

Matt, who’s currently working the grill, feels a wave of relief wash over him at the sight of you. As the night progresses, the diner is slowly picking up to a steady, busy pace and without a waitress, Nick, Chris and Matt would never survive.

“No worries, I’m just glad you could make it,” he replies. Matt’s eyes always have a habit of dancing over your entire face, today being no exception. He notices the dark circles that formed under your eyes, your sunken in cheeks, and how pale your skin is. Details like this never went unnoticed by Matt, especially not on a day as important as today, and, despite how disheveled you look, he can’t help but be enthralled by your beauty

An array of plates and trays are sprawled on the order window, each of them piled with greasy, hot food. You wear a disassociated, blank expression as you reply, too focused on catching up on the work at hand, “Is this food ready to be sent out?” You yank a ticket from one of the trays, briefly reading Nick’s messy handwriting to ensure everything was correct.

Matt hums in response, deeply intrigued as to what ails you, but not wanting to press any further. As soon as you hear that, you become a task bot and effortlessly send the orders out.

Your incredible work ethic is directly fueled by your need to distract yourself from the reality of your life. It’s your 21st birthday, a day that for most people involves a fancy brunch, meaningful gifts, a scrapbook full of photos, and a drunk night out. 21 was supposed to feel magical, every aspect about this day was meant to be special and perfect.

But you aren’t most people, and your life was anything but perfect.

Your mother has been in and out of your life since you were 8. She was an amazing mother, when she was sober at least, but your parents were always arguing, mostly because your dad worked a lot and it made your mom feel neglected and lonely. The arguments filled her with enough sadness to lead her to drinking and one day her alcoholism consumed her until she just never returned home. You were 13 the last time you saw her, and you spent your entire adolescence blaming your dad for being the reason she left.

So, from the age of 13, you stopped being a kid. While other children were watching morning cartoons before school, a fussy 2 year old rested on your hips as you tried braiding your 8 year old sisters hair. All the while your dad was working grueling hours in order to keep a roof over your heads. His hard work went unnoticed, instead being met with resentment from you.

It wasn’t until you turned 18, when your father suddenly passed of a heart attack, that you realized how much weight and responsibility rested on his shoulders. Upon his passing, your siblings were placed under your official guardianship. It was the inheritance you never asked for, but as the oldest sister you had no other choice.

So, instead of spending the day with friends, you’ve been forced to pick up your parent’s slack. You have two younger siblings at home who have no one else but you. All day you’ve been basically running after them, tending to their needs and trying to make their lives a little less unbearable. And although they’re your pride and joy, the absolute most important part of your life, you can’t help but wonder what life would be like if they weren’t your responsibility.

The trauma and grief has led your siblings to be more of a handful than other kids their age. Your 17 year old sister, Safiya, finds herself falling into the wrong crowds. Money is tight which has led her to develop a habit of shoplifting. It was simple and harmless at first, consisting of her pocketing items such as nail polish and candy bars. But eventually she and her friends were running out of stores with duffel bags full of clothes, the adrenaline that came from being chased by police officers being better than any drug.

On the other hand, your 10 year old brother, Giovani, struggled to make friends. Every week you were receiving at least one phone call that he’s gotten into yet another fight. There’s an inconsolable anger inside of him that causes him to lash out at anyone that isn’t you or Safiya, and when you’re not worried about his temper, you’re nagging him about his failing grades.

Needless to say, your life was not easy. Everyday you played the role of mother, and you often found yourself asking God what you did to deserve this; what you did to deserve a 21st birthday, a life, full of nothing but sorrow and struggle.

“Happy birthday, girl!” Nick whispers excitedly, pulling you in for a quick side hug as you reenter the kitchen. Matt watches as your lips form a tight lipped smile, your sad eyes giving you away immediately. You’re grateful for the sentiment, but still can’t muster up enough energy to actually feel excited.

“Thanks, Nick. I appreciate it,” you return his hug, immediately returning to work.

—

After a long, busy rush, your break couldn’t have come any sooner. The diner is quiet, the bustling atmosphere from before being replaced with nothing but the sound of groaning trees and the music that plays lowly from the jukebox.

“You going on break?” Matt asks, his arms submerged elbows deep in the sink. “Yeah I think so. I probably won’t get another chance to eat,” you comment. You look visibly happier than earlier, but there’s still a twinge of sadness in your voice.

“Alright, lemme just finish these dishes and I’ll make your food. Okay?” Matt’s voice is soft, almost like he knows that the reason for your sadness runs much deeper than an uneventful birthday. “No! It’s okay, I’ll just ask Chris to do it,” you say, ready to turn on your heels before he can protest.

His words catch you before you can, “I have a surprise for you! Just wait for me, please.” You lazily walk over to him and tiptoe, peering over the large, industrial sink to see how many dishes he has left. He basically has the whole kitchen sitting in the water, “You have so many left to wash though!”

A fake pout forms on Matt’s face, eliciting the first real laugh from you since you arrived. “You can help me?” he suggests, his eyelashes batting over his big doe eyes.

Your resolve crumbles quickly, you were never able to say no to Matt, “Fine, but only because Chris always burns the bacon.” You roll your sleeves up, cuffing them until they’re high enough to keep dry. The sound of clanging metal and swishing water settles between you two as you work towards washing the dishes before the next rush.

“How’s 21 treating you by the way?” Matt asks playfully, eyes momentarily glossing over you as he awaits an answer.

“Well I’m not drunk,” you chuckle, scrubbing at a tough spot on one of the pans. For some reason you feel safe with him, like you can tear your protective walls down and bare the most vulnerable parts of you. Over the course of working together, he’s become a true friend, an unjudgemental listening ear. Everyone else in your life has failed and disappointed you, but not Matt.

“You don’t have to be drunk to have fun,” he replies, hands wading through the sink for the next dish.

“True, but I’m not sure I’d categorize picking my little sister up from jail and getting my brother from school because he was expelled as ‘fun,’” your wet, soapy hands throw an air quote around the last word. You didn’t mean to trauma dump, especially not when the conversation started so light and airy, but you couldn’t help it. There were so many things on your mind, that up until this point, you had been actively ignoring.

“Bet you won’t forget this birthday, though,” Matt jokes, and you’re grateful it’s not a response laced with pity. You laugh, because it was true. One day none of this would matter, it would become an old folk-tale-like memory that you’d someday tell your children.

“Jail, though? Fuck, what did she even steal?” Matt shakes his head in disbelief, how a 17 year old girl managed to get into so much trouble was beyond him. A part of him did feel bad that you were the one struggling with these kids, but he never showed it because he knew how much you hated sympathetic, pitiful treatment.

“Some dumbass jeans that were 3 sizes too big,” you scoff, draining the sink. “I was so mad, I mean it was just juvie and they let her off with a warning because she’s a first time offender, but why the fuck was she stealing jeans? Can’t she steal useful stuff, like fucking milk or something?”

Matt laughs, running a white kitchen towel over his hands to dry them. “And Gio? Was he in on the heist too?”

“Oh please, I wish, maybe then he would’ve been let off with a warning too,” you take the towel from Matt, patting your hands dry as well. “This dumbass got expelled for fighting a kid who told him his shoes were fake. They’re not by the way, Safiya stole those too.”

“So now I have to enroll this kid somewhere else, if they’ll even take him. He has such a bad track record, Matt. I’ll probably have to move my sister to a different school too because she’s surrounded by so many bad influences… I don’t even know what to do,” your voice breaks slightly at the end, the sadness once again washing over you.

Matt brings you in for a quick hug, “let’s just worry about getting you fed for now, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you sniffle, wiping the singular tear that runs down your cheek.

As if on queue your phone starts ringing, your sister’s name illuminating the screen. “Hold on I gotta take this real quick,” you mutter, pulling away from the hug. He wishes he could keep you there forever and tell you everything would be okay, but instead he hums in response, watching you disappear out the back door with the phone pressed against your ear.

When the door clicks shut, he turns into the kitchen, throws some gloves on and begins making your food.

—

A stack of fluffy chocolate chip pancakes sits next to scrambled eggs and two strips of bacon. Matt knew your order by memory, one of the many details he’s learned about you over the course of your friendship.

Chris’s voice fills the kitchen, announcing his entry, “Does that look good? I don’t know, Nick said it doesn’t.”

While you and Matt washed the dishes, Nick and Chris decorated an isolated booth in the back of the diner. Balloons, streamers, and an iridescent tablecloth adorn the area. A small ‘Happy Birthday’ banner is strung from two parallel windowsills. It was something small and simple, but Matt knew you’d love it.

Matt peers over the order window, briefly examining their work before returning to the task at hand. “It looks good, it doesn’t have to be perfect. She’ll love it.”

Nick walks into the kitchen, fingers tying a knot in one of the balloons, “Are you sure? I’d be so fucking mad if that’s what I saw as my 21st birthday set up.”

“I’m sure. She’ll love it.”

Matt pokes two candles into the stack of pancakes, the number 21 sitting perfectly on the fluffy pastries. He used whipped cream, strawberries, and chocolate chips to create a simple design around the outer edges before drizzling some maple syrup on top. The bacon was broken up to create a smile on the eggs, a corny gesture he thought of last minute.

The back door suddenly opens, causing the triplets to freeze in place. They hadn’t figured out exactly how they were going to execute this, they’d only gotten as far as the decorations and the make-shift cake.

“Nick you go distract her, Chris go change the music in the lobby!” Matt instructs quickly, his voice hushed so you won’t hear him. They scramble into position, Matt managing to hide somewhere in the diner lobby where you won’t see him.

“Nick, what are you doing?” you laugh, feeling Nick’s cold hands cover your eyes. “Shush, no questions,” he replies, causing you to hold back more laughter. Nick leads you into the lobby slowly, your hands holding onto his as they still work to obstruct your vision. Matt watches as you two walk in, his hands shaking with excitement as he lights the candles.

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!” the triplets begin to sing in unison, both Chris and Matt approaching the decorated booth. Nick removes his hands, a shocked expression immediately forming on your face.

As they continue singing the song, you admire the decorations in awe. Suddenly you’re a little girl, the random decorations being everything you needed as a child. The tears begin welling in your eyes, this was completely unexpected.

“Make a wish,” Matt whispers, bringing you in for a side hug as he holds the plate in front of you. You’ve never had a birthday cake before, let alone candles to blow a wish on. And although it’s simple, the makeshift cake is enough to bring the waterworks.

You squeeze your eyes shut, fat tears streaming down your face as you blow the candles out. There’s only one thing you can think to ask for, but you don’t dare verbalize it in fear that it won’t come true. The flame flickers, disappearing into a cloud of smoke as your wish floats away.

“Hey don’t cry! You’re 21!” Chris exclaims, shaking your shoulders in an attempt to lighten the mood, but you can’t help it. You’ve weren’t expecting any of this and it’s quite honestly the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you.

“Sorry,” you chuckle, wiping the tears away quickly. “Thank you guys for this. It’s beautiful,” you continue, bringing the trio in for a group hug. Nick and Chris are the first to pull away, leaving you clinging to Matt.

“You can thank Matt. This was all his idea,” Chris replies. Your arms are wrapped around Matt’s waist, a hug being the only way you can think to thank him. You look up at him, glossy eyes threatening to spill again.

“Happy birthday,” Matt murmurs, a smile forming on his face as he places the plate on the table and snakes his arms around you.

The moment is intimate enough to serve as Nick and Chris’s queue to leave. They sneak away into the kitchen quietly, giving you and Matt privacy.

“Thank you so much for this, Matt. You don’t know what this means to me,” you whisper, eyes locked with his.

“It’s nothing,” he shrugs.

“No, Matt. I really love this. Thank you.” A comfortable silence settles between you, the jukebox playing a calm melodic tune. You haven’t broken from the hug, swaying back and forth as you continue to admire the setup before you.

“Are you gonna try my cake?” Matt asks, using his chin to point towards the table. The whipped cream was beginning to melt into the spongy dough, strawberries and chocolate chips drooping down the edges.

“Mmm yeah, but I wanna stay like this just a little longer.” He doesn’t complain, instead pulling you in closer and resting his head on yours as you continue swaying to the music.

—

“That was really nice, Matt. Thank you,” it feels like the hundredth time that you’ve thanked Matt tonight. A half finished plate of food sits in front of you, the pancakes being enough to fill you up.

“You don’t have to keep thanking me, you know,” he laughs. Matt sits next to you on the same booth chair, using the balloons that cluttered the other side as an excuse to sit closer to you.

“I do, though. No one has ever done anything this thoughtful for me before... Not like there’s anyone left to do it,” the last part is hushed, he almost doesn’t catch it.

“C’mon, you’ve never had at least one birthday party?” He asks, his fingers play with one of the balloon strings. Despite knowing your tragic backstory, Matt finds the information hard to believe.

“Nope. This is the first cake I’ve ever had,” you admit, feeling sad at the confession.

“Well I hope you at least made a good wish,” Matt senses your shift in emotion, so he’s trying to remain positive.

“Yeah…” your voice trails off, fingernails scraping and picking at the plastic table cloth.

“Are you gonna tell me what you wished for, or are you superstitious?” Matt props an elbow on the table, resting his head on the palm of his hand as he looks at you. The moonlight from outside shines through the window, working alongside the dim diner lighting to illuminate your beautiful face. Your hair is down, the loose strands that keep falling in front of your eyes tucked behind your ears.

The question has you serious and embarrassed, “I’m not superstitious, it’s just a really corny wish.” He gives you a knowing look, one that encourages you to continue.

“You won’t make fun of me?” you ask, looking up at him tentatively.

You take a deep breath, rubbing your thighs in an attempt to ease your nerves before admitting something completely vulnerable, “I wished my dad was still here.”

“I know it’s never going to happen, I’m not naive, but I’ve never had a candle to wish on before so I just… I just wanted to make it count. I know it’s dumb—” your words are quiet and Matt cuts you off.

A gentle hand pulls your attention to him, his thumb caressing your cheek, “I don’t think it’s dumb.”

You don’t know what you did to deserve a friend as kind and loving as Matt. Another tear rolls down your cheek, swiftly being wiped away by Matt’s thumb. Even in your emotional state, you looked beautiful.

Subconsciously, Matt’s moving in closer to you. His eyes are flickering between your soft gaze and the plump lips that call out to him. Maybe it’s the atmosphere, the vulnerability of the moment, or maybe it’s the undeniable crush you’ve had on Matt for years, but your eyes flutter shut and copy him in leaning in.

His lips find yours quickly, you taste like maple syrup and whipped cream. You’re the perfect sweet treat to end such an eventful night. Your hands rest on his shoulders, slowly traveling to the nape of his neck as your lips mould together. Neither of you can seem to get enough of each other. His tongue slips into your mouth, eliciting a small moan from you.

The moment you pull away, you’re breathless. Foreheads are pressed together, eyes locking to keep the intensity of the moment.

“Happy birthday, beautiful,” he murmurs, going in for the next kiss of many.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: you guys have no idea how long this sat in my drafts. I kept telling myself it was too sad, but it’s HURT TO COMFORT IT HAS TO HE SAD!

anyways my sweet anon! I hope you like this, especially bc I changed it a bit.

thank u and I luv YOU 💌

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03 @k-l-a-w-s @hearts4chris @maryx2xx

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

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inkmemes · 28 days

Text

x-men ( 2000 ) sentence starters ↪ taken from the first x-man film. alter as you see fit ♡

“won't it kinda be cold?”

“well, that's the point, stupid.”

“and when are you gonna do this?”

“i don't know what happened.”

“i don't know... i just touched him.”

“call an ambulance!”

“just get away from me!”

“don't touch me!”

“thank you, [name]. it was quite educational.”

“the wrong person driving a car can be dangerous.”

“i didn't say they were hiding.”

“what are you doing here?”

“why do you ask questions to which you already know the answers?”

“don't give up on them, [name].”

“what would you have me do, [name]?”

i've heard these arguments before.”

“it was a long time ago.”

“are you sneaking around in here, [name]? whatever are you looking for?”

“i'm looking for hope.”

“don't get in my way.”

where are we?”

“are you gonna let this man walk away with your money?”

“i'll fight him!”

“don't hit him in the balls.”

“you said anything goes.”

“you idiot!”

“you want something new, honey?”

“i'll have a beer.”

“you owe me some money.”

“[name], let's not do this.”

“no man takes a beating like that without a mark to show for it.”

“come on, this isn't worth it.”

“i know what you are.”

“you lost your money. you keep this up, you lose something else.”

“what the hell are you doin'?”

“i'm sorry. i needed a ride.”

“i thought you might help me.”

“get out!”

“where am i supposed to go?”

“i saved your life!”

“you don't have anything to eat, do you?”

“suddenly my life isn't bad.”

“it looks cosy.”

“put your hands on the heater.”

“it's nothing personal.”

“so what kind of a name is [name]?”

“you should wear your seat belt.”

“you all right?”

“weren't you supposed to bring someone back with you?”

“what happened?”

“i have made the first move.”

“where are you going?”

“what's your hurry?”

“good morning, [name].”

“would you like some breakfast?”

“i don't need medical attention.”

“what's a magneto?”

“this is the stupidest thing i've ever heard.”

“you wanna get outta my way?”

“give me a chance.”

“i may be able to help you find some answers.”

“how do you know?”

“you're not the only one with gifts.”

“what is this place?”

“i'll make a deal with you.”

“no, i don't see a difference.”

“it's gonna be close.”

“the world will be watching.”

“where the hell are we?”

“i'm sorry.”

“so... couldn't wait to get my shirt off again, huh?”

“he could very well be older than you, [name].”

“i've never seen anything like this before.”

“it's such a strange phrase.”

“i think what you really are afraid of is me.”

“i think you'll be comfortable here.”

“where's your room?”

“so read my mind.”

“come on. you afraid you might like it?”

“what do you see?”

“you oughta be careful. i might not be there next time.”

“it was an accident.”

“what the hell have you done to me?”

“i had no choice.”

“i think it'll be easier on your own.”

“you don't like him.”

“how could you tell?”

“where is it?”

“we had a deal.”

“she's all right. she's just upset.”

“i'm sorry about last night.”

“you running again?”

“who told you that?”

“she was supposed to meet me for lunch.”

“you look around, i'll check with the ticket agent.”

“i think you should follow your instincts.”

“i can still feel him inside my head.”

“he seems to genuinely wanna help you.”

“what do you say?”

“come on, i'll take care of you.”

“you promise?”

“scream for me.”

“what the hell do you want with me?”

“whoever said i wanted you?”

“you'll have to kill me, [name].”

“care to press your luck, [name]?”

“goodbye, [name].”

“i made a terrible mistake.”

“i couldn't see what he was after ‘til it was too late.”

“[name], you can't do this alone.”

“who the hell do you think you are?”

“i want you to try and relax. i'm not going to hurt you.”

“please don't leave me! i don't want to be alone.”

“wait a minute. he's not coming with us, is he?”

“answer me. please.”

“are you going to kill me?”

“i'll understand if that comes as small consolation.”

“you actually go outside in these things?”

“sounds like a storm's comin'.”

“there's someone here.”

“there's someone here. i just can't see 'em.”

“do you know what happens to a toad when it's struck by lightning?”

“[name], is that you?”

“you're not part of the group.”

“i can't move.”

“i thought you lived at a school.”

“he's become even more powerful than i imagined.”

“are you sure you saw what you saw?”

“why do none of you understand what i'm trying to do?”

“you're so full of shit.”

“if you're really so righteous, it'd be you in that thing.”

“please! somebody please help me!”

“this is mine.”

“you owe me a scream.”

“you drop something?”

“i can't control it like that.”

“i'm taking it.”

“welcome back. i knew you'd find your way.”

“how did we do?”

“oh, that tickles.”

“how are you feeling?”

“that was a brave thing you did.”

“i think she's a little taken with you.”

“well, you can tell her my heart belongs to someone else.”

“are you going to say goodbye to them?”

“i was wrong in this particular issue and i hope, in time, i may be forgiven.”

“i kinda like it.”

“i don't want you to go.”

“what do you do when you wake up to that?”

“and i will always be there.”

#rp meme #rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme #rp starters #rp prompt

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vax-merstappen · 6 months

Text

press delete pt.2 (cl16)

summary: even though he’s dating a new girl, charles still keeps the pictures of you on his phone.

warnings: breakup, general angst

hope you all enjoy this highly requested part 2! i actually liked writing this one more than the original lol

part 1

Charles had spent all day with the supermodel he had been seeing ever since your breakup. She was good company and had known Charles when he was a kid. He got along fine with her, but they were just friends. Someone he could talk to, even if they would never dance in the rain together or stay up late at night drunk on his balcony.

Just someone to fill the void.

After he had dropped her off back at her place, Charles had driven home himself. He had taken a shower before collapsing on his couch. As soon as he opened his phone, he saw that pictures of them together were already on social media. He wondered whether you had seen. Whether you had cared.

He opened his camera roll, looking back at all the pictures he couldn't bear to delete.

It was the first time he had invited you to come watch him race, his personal guest in the Ferrari hospitality. You had shown up wearing a T-shirt with his name and number on it, a red Ferrari cap on your head. He remembered how just seeing you in his team gear had made his heart flutter.

You had run over to him in the paddock, pulling him into an embrace. The cameras were flashing, but he knew you didn't care. Charles hugged you back, whispering in your ear how glad he had been to see you. He vowed then and there that he never wanted to let you go.

He gave you a tour of the paddock, showing you the places he knew the cameras wouldn't follow and the best places to grab food before the race. He had spent so much time in various tracks like this that he knew it like the back of his hand. He only hoped you would one day feel the same, having come to many more races of his.

When it was time to head on track, he had given you one last embrace. And before he went, he asked if he could take a picture with you. Him in his race suit, you in Ferrari gear. You happily obliged and he took his favorite picture of the day, just the two of you in his garage.

He would look back at that picture whenever you couldn't make it to a race, remembering that you were cheering him on from home. Even though he hadn't won that day, getting to spend it with you had been its own sort of victory.

As he looked at the photo now, all he felt was regret. Regret that maybe you didn't understand how much you had meant to him and how much better he felt with you around.

He couldn't make himself delete the picture and so he scrolled on.

A few minutes later, he found another picture that brought back memories. He chuckled to himself, remembering that day.

It had been Christmas time. You both had spent Christmas Eve with Charles family, as they celebrated the holiday. On the actual holiday, you had asked him to spend a cozy day in instead of celebrating in an extravagant way. He had agreed, wanting nothing more than to spend the day by your side.

But he had to still get you a present, no matter how many times you had insisted the only gift you wanted was to spend time with him, away from everything. He had searched endlessly for the perfect present for you, finally settling on something he knew you would appreciate. It was tickets to see a band you both listened to in concert. One of the first things you bonded over as a couple was your love for their music. It was perfect and he was so excited to see the look on your face when you opened the tickets.

Christmas had rolled around and as promised, he spent the morning cuddling with you in bed. Around lunch time, he had got up to make the two of you a brunch. His cooking skills were lackluster to say the least, so you had joined him the kitchen a few minutes later. He could still remember how you looked in the soft morning light and how you sounded when you laughed at how poorly he had chopped the ingredients of your favorite dish.

About halfway through the meal, he had handed you the envelope with the tickets. He had tried to hide how excited he was, but he knew you could read his emotions like a book. You opened the simple card he had bought and your eyes had widened when you saw the tickets.

But instead of getting all excited as he imagined, you burst into laughter. He felt his face getting red and he started to panic. Had he messed up? What was so funny?

"Mon amour," you had said, finally pausing in your laughter. "Go look under the Christmas tree."

Not knowing what else to do, he had stood up from the table and walked over to the tree. There was a small box underneath. He grabbed it and walked back over to you with a look of confusion. You nodded and he opened it.

Inside were two tickets to the same concert.

"You bought the same thing?" he had asked incredulously.

"Yes. I thought you would love it."

"Well I love it so much that I bought you the same thing," he laughed, now understanding what was so funny.

He had taken a picture of the two of you together each holding the tickets the other had bought. Your smiling faces stared back at him now from his phone. You had known each other so well. How had a relationship so deep crumbled?

He couldn't bear to let go of the memory. He scrolled to the next photo, stopping himself from pressing delete.

He had finally reached the last photo from your relationship. It was you, standing on his boat. One of his oversize shirts was on your shoulders. He always thought they looked better on you. With the image, the circumstances under which he took them came back to him. That he would delete it when you two got back together.

He thought back to that fateful day.

You had gone out together on his yacht. He had hoped it would be a lighthearted and relaxing break from the stress that had been plaguing your relationship. He saw you standing close to the edge of the boat and he had remembered a time where you had pushed him into the water, jumping in after him yourself. He walked over with the intention of recreating the fun moment.

But the second he pushed you, he knew he had misjudged the circumstances. You had shouted at him.

"Mon amour, it was just a joke Don't take it all so serious. We are here to have a good time, no?" he said, trying to smooth over the situation and bring some brightness back into the day.

"Not if you are going to throw me in the ocean."

He had sighed, wishing you could just appreciate the day with him. You two had descended into an argument afterwards. He didn't remember what he had said, only that he had wanted to make you see that he wasn't always the villain. Sure, he had neglected you in the past in favor of his career. But he was here now, wasn't he, trying to make it all better?

The rest of the argument was a blur in his head. Up until the point you had uttered the words that finally broke him.

"I don't think this is going to work anymore."

He had tried so hard for you. But his best wasn't good enough and he could see that now. Somewhere along the line you both had lost your understanding of the other person. Your relationship had become built on memories of the past and differing ideas of the future.

He had blinked back tears behind his sunglasses. He didn't want you to know how bad you had hurt him. Charles knew he had his fair share of blame for how things had turned out. He didn't want to cry in front of you now. He could hold it in until he got home, as much for your sake as his own.

The words he said next were crystal clear in his mind.

"Okay. We can take a break. But let me get one last picture of you to remember you by. And when we get back together, I will delete it off my phone so we don't have to remember this day? Ok, ma cherie?"

Charles had taken the picture that stared back at him now. Even now, he could tell how unhappy you were in the picture. It was clearly a fake smile that you had given him.

But even though the picture and the memory of how it all fell apart had pained him, he couldn't bear to delete the picture off his phone. The hope and the promise that he could still end up with you were too much to throw away.

Instead, he clicked onto your name in his messages. He selected the picture of you on that boat. His finger hovered over the send button. He had a choice to make.

But surely if you had wanted to see him again, you would have said something. You were probably happy now without him. He didn't want to ruin your peace. So he clicked out of your messages and into hers.

He sent another text back to the model, asking if she wanted to see him again next weekend. If you had wanted him out of your life, he owed it to you to make that happen. Even if he couldn't make himself delete your memories from his phone.

#charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic

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wardenparker · 9 months

Text

First Christmas

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 10.6k Warnings: Established relationship, mentions of sex toys/gagging, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cuddling, fluff, picturesque family stuff everywhere. Summary: A whirlwind relationship has led you to marrying Marcus before a lot of traditional landmarks in the dating realm. Now it's time to meet the Pikes, and you'll be doing it on their absolute favorite holiday. Notes: Please enjoy some seasonal fluff! While Marcus and the Pikes are obviously depicted as celebrating Christmas (duh, that's the plot) there aren't any references to the family being Christian, or to reader's religious identity. This is just some good old fashioned all-American Marcus fluff for the holiday 🧡🎄❄

“I talked to my Mom this morning.” Marcus shucks his jacket, buoyed by his news, although he’s had every reason to grin when he’s coming home to you every night. “And I managed to book the last two tickets. Had to get first class, but I used miles, so it wasn’t that bad.” He leans in and drops a kiss on your lips before he turns to hang his coat on the rack. “Figure we fly out a couple of days before Christmas and we can fly home the day after. We only end up needing to take a day or two maximum out of work that way. What do you think?”

“What do I think about three days with your entire extended family when it will be the very first time I’m meeting them all?” Marrying Marcus had been a whirlwind, and while you’re immensely happy together and have no regrets for the situation— it is a little intimidating. Marcus is incredibly close to his family and you are the exact opposite. “Honestly, babe? I’m intimidated. But I’m all in. I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure they like me.”

“It’ll be great. They will love you.” Of course there had been a million and one questions when Marcus had called with the news that he was married. That he couldn’t wait to plan a wedding, and that you and he had just decided to go to the court house. “Get the embarrassing stories and baby pics out of the way before the rest of the family descends on the house.”

“Cramming into that twin bed in your Mom’s house is going to be fun,” you tease, a slight snort following your grin as you start taking leftovers out of the fridge to warm up for dinner. Last night’s Chinese take out order was more than a little over the top.

“Just means we get to snuggle really close.” He hums, sliding up behind you and wrapping his arms around your middle as he presses close. The honeymoon phase hasn’t even begun to fade, and he hopes it never does. “But I think she did trade it for a queen.”

“We’ll still cuddle.” That’s a promise, and you lean back against his chest with a comforted hum that’s so blissful you just let your eyes fall shut and enjoy it. “Though it might be good if she did trade up. A new bed will squeak a hell of a lot less than an old one.”

His cock twitches, but he’s pretty sure that was the entire point of your comment. You love to see how easily you turn him on. “But then we still have to keep you quiet, baby.” He ducks his head and nips at your neck. “Can’t be screaming my name for the entire house to hear.”

Turning your head, you bat your eyelashes at him innocently and make your eyes extra wide. “Should we pack my gag, then?”

“Fuck.” He hisses quietly, twitching against your ass again. “You want to be gagged and fucked hard in my childhood bedroom?” He rasps out.

“Only if there’s really embarrassing posters on the walls.” The evil little teasing giggle that bubbles out of you comes with a full-on grind of your ass against his rapidly hardening cock. It’s not hard to rile each other up, but it is so much fun.

“Want me to show you how hard I would fuck you?” His hands slide under your shirt and cup your tits through the bra you loath and he loves to take off of you.

“Hmmm.” Even pretending to think about it makes you grin harder and you turn around in his arms to wrap your arms around his neck. “The egg rolls take five minutes to warm up in the oven. Think we can get off that fast?”

“You doubt my abilities?” He pouts at you playfully, even as he moves to start unbuttoning your pants. “Baby, I’m hurt.”

“Maybe I just know giving you a challenge always gets results.” Your hands move to his belt as he starts to pull your own pants open.

“Brat.” His grin is infectious as he pushes your pants and panties down over your hips.

“Yeah, and you love it.” You shove the tray in the oven and practically smack the timer in your haste to set it, ready to hop up on the kitchen counter in the idyllic little house you share with your husband and let him fuck the life out of you.

His chuckle is warm and his hands don’t pause as he slides his hand between your thighs to touch you as his other works his belt buckle. “I do love it.” He admits easily.

Whatever clever comeback you have dies on your lips, too focused on your husband’s large hand and quick fingers at the apex of your thighs to do anything but quickly kick off your pants and panties so you can slide back onto the kitchen counter with your legs open.

“Fuck, I love the way you are so eager.” Marcus is always just as eager, but he doesn’t focus on his wants. Having you in front of him demands that you be pleasured and that’s what he’s going to do.

“For you? Always.” It’s been this way between you since the beginning. Since the day he waltzed into your undercover operation posing as your husband who could forge any painting. The spark was immediate and mutual, and soon the lines between role and real life were blurring for both of you. Now, of course, things are less complicated. But the want is no less real.

Marcus hums, leaning in to kiss along your neck like he had quickly discovered you love. Lips and teeth working together to make you moan while his fingers slide inside you.

“Baby.” Managing to moan anything coherent while he’s touching you is a miracle, but you gasp out when he starts to crook his fingers inside the tight walls of your pussy. “Need you, baby. Need you to fill me up.”

“I’m gonna fill you up.” He promises, grinning at the way your jaw is slack when he pulls back to look at you, “just as soon as you cream all over my fingers, baby.”

A whine seems to seep out of your throat unbidden and you glance over at the kitchen timer as your hips rock against his hand. “Four minutes and thirty-two seconds,” you warn with a grin.

“So we have time to have a drink.” He chuckles as he increases the tempo of his fingers as he works them in and out of you.

“Fuck, baby.” Marcus knows exactly how to work you into a frenzy with seemingly zero effort, and he delights in putting that ability on display just as much as he loves taking you apart extra slowly to make you beg. The man is devastatingly talented and you are the happy beneficiary of all that laser focus.

“That’s what I’m gonna do.” He teases. “Fuck you. Been thinking about it all day while working on paperwork.”

Being on your best behaviour at work does mean that you haven’t had him fuck you on his desk yet, but you’ve been craving it. The kitchen counter will have to serve as a substitute for just a little longer, it seems. “Yeah?” You pant, feeling yourself get closer and closer under his expert touch. “Bet you had to stay hidden behind that desk all day so no one would see how hard I make you.”

“Soooo fucking hard.” He agrees, reaching up and squeezing your tit through your shirt and bra. “Just have to think about how I woke you up sliding inside you this morning.”

“Best way to wake up.” Your head falls back, thumping against the kitchen cabinet but you barely notice.

“And I love to see your eyes turn glassy before you even wipe the sleep away.” Marcus curls his fingers up and leans in to press his lips to yours. “Cum for me baby.”

It should be impossible for him to command it like that and yet as soon as the words are out of his mouth you are gasping in pleasure and feeling the coil at the base of your spine pull tight right before the stars explode behind your eyes. Marcus groans as he watches your eyes flutter closed, your head tilting back against the cabinet and your sweet little pussy just soaking his fingers with the slickest, hottest cum he’s ever had the pleasure of feeling. “That’s it, baby, shake for me.”

“So fucking good.” Drawing in that first deep breath after cumming is always like the first breath of fresh air in the morning. As soon as the heaviness lifts from your limbs you’re surging forward to kiss him, wrapping one hand around his cock to draw him in closer and beg silently for him to fuck you.

It’s Marcus’s turn to groan and his hips rock forward, chasing your grip as you pump his cock. “Fuck baby, need you so bad.” He moans into your mouth and shuffles closer, his fingers digging into your hips to drag you closer to the edge of the counter.

No one could ever doubt the passion in your marriage, that is for damn sure, and you lean back on the counter so Marcus can line himself up at your entrance – moaning softly when he starts to push inside. "Fuck I love you so much."

“I love you too.” An undercover op that had meant to be a means to getting Teresa Lisbon – now Jane – off his mind, had ended up being the best thing that ever happened to him. You are the best thing that ever happened. “So fucking much.” He pushes until he’s buried to the hilt and immediately pulling back to rock into you again.

When the two of you are worked up like this it never takes long. For a couple who routinely fuck an average of twice a day, anyone would think that it would be taking longer by now. It's not like you're pent up after a week of not seeing each other or anything. In fact, you see each other constantly — always doing your best to even line up your lunch breaks whenever you possibly can. No, it's just passion. Plain and simple. Top of FormHe has zero problem slapping his thighs against the counter as he works into you. Panting out your name breathlessly as you clench down on him. “Fuck.”

“That’s it, baby.” With one arm twined around his shoulders and the other holding blindly to the counter, your legs have wrapped around Marcus’s trim waist to encourage every thrust. “Feels so fucking amazing.”

“You—your pussy.” He grunts out, biting his lip and then rocking his hips forward with a particularly harsh thrust.

“It’s all yours.” And with as fiercely as his hips slam into yours, it’s a wonder that your pussy doesn’t ache more than she does. But the only aching you ever seem to feel is from wanting him as close as possible. Like right now.

Every push of his hips is complete bliss, groaning as he leans in and presses his lips to yours. “Love you.”

“Love you.” Even mumbled against his lips it’s so true that it makes your heart swell, and you tilt your hips so he can thrust a little deeper each time. He won’t last much longer and the timer must be almost up anyway. “Cum for me, baby. Fill me up.”

“Rub your clit.” He orders. “Cum for me again. Want you to cum again.”

There is nothing you want more in the world right now than to obey, and in barely a Moment more the two of you are panting and moaning into each other’s kiss, careening toward the edge of pleasure. It’s like magic, the way your fingers immediately make your core seize up around him. That little bit of pressure ripping you over the edge and making you cry out his name.

He tumbles over the edge second later, your shaking legs wrapped tight around his waist and keep him deep inside you while he paints your walls with hot cum. It's the perfect way to unwind after a long day at the office, and you groan without restraint. The kisses you press all over his lips and jaw and neck are instantly giddy, the adrenaline rush of cumming taking over the second the crashing orgasm subsides. Marcus groans, tucking his head into your neck the second he can and chuckling as the timer for the oven starts to buzz. “Perfect timing.”

******

“This is it.” The Pike house is on the corner of two main streets in his Nebraska hometown, where the old Victorian rises up from the sidewalk like a proud pillar of the old community and you can perfectly see Marcus growing up here as a little boy. His wholesome, corn-fed, all-American childhood is perfectly framed here. “Right here.” The warmth in his voice is unmistakable, matching the grin that is on his face as he looks up at the house. “Home sweet home. Mom should be here, waiting to pounce on us.”

“You’re excited.” It’s sweet, and you know he’s missed his family something terrible. “Let’s go inside, baby. Time to introduce your wife to your mother.” His second wife, technically, but that’s neither here nor there. His divorce was years and years ago now, even though she is very much still part of the family.

“She’s going to love you.” The fact that he hasn’t had you two on the phone together is just a matter of scheduling but it will quickly be corrected. “Let’s go.” The engine is cut and he opens the driver door to the rental car that was crazy expensive but worth the autonomy of being able to take you around the town.

Like any son, Marcus doesn’t bother to knock at the door but pushes inside, calling out to his mother as soon as it is half open. The first thing that catches your eye is the line of photos down the staircase to your right, and you shift to look at them all right away. Marcus’s two siblings’ wedding photos. A collage frame of each family featuring their children at different ages. Marcus’s graduation photo from the Academy. And his parents’ wedding photo that is now some forty years old.

“Marc?” The voice rings out from the kitchen and there’s the general clanging of pots and pans as she hustles out the doorway, wiping her hands in the dishrag. “Oh Marc, you made it!”

Julia Pike is a tall and fairly slender woman with grays streaked heavily through her dirty blonde hair and laugh lines that speak to a lifetime of joy with her family. But more than all of those things, she is a hugger. Her arms envelope both you and Marcus as soon as you’re within reach and she hums so happily that anyone could be easily forgiven for confusing her with the family cat. “How was your flight, sweetie? The food was probably terrible, right? Airline food always is. Come in, come in! Leave your things here and I’ll get you some lunch.”

“Hey Mom,” his arms are just as tight around his mother as they are when he hugs you. “We didn’t even risk the airport food, so we are starving.” He pulls back and gives her his best puppy dog eyes. “Please tell me you are making my favorite?”

“Do you think I would just skip out on your first meal home in more than a year and not make you chowder?” She tuts as if she’s insulted and turned to you conspiratorially. “Of all the things in the world, it’s always been corn and potato chowder. Who knows where he picked that up from but the first time I put bacon in it he started begging for it constantly.”

“Because bacon is probably the only thing that beats pancakes.” Marcus leans in and kisses his mother’s cheek. “And Mom makes the best corn and potato chowder you will ever have.” He promises you, letting go of her so he can wrap his arm around your waist. “Why don’t you two go into the kitchen and I’ll bring in the bags?”

“Thanks, honey.” It’s just a squeeze of his hand in yours before he slips back out the door, but you already feel more at ease. His mother is so incredibly sweet.

“Don’t worry a bit, I won’t bite.” Julia promises, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and giggling quietly as she guides you to the kitchen. “I’ll quickly fill you in on his most embarrassing stories.”

“I’m sorry we haven’t been able to meet or talk before.” That’s really the first thing you want to say, knowing how much Marcus loves his family. “It’s all happened very fast, and we’re still wrapping up this case that our departments are working on together.”

“Don’t worry.” She smiles indulgently. If she had been a lesser woman, she would have been upset or insulted by the quick wedding and no communication, but she was secure in her youngest child’s affection. “You’re in the honeymoon phase and who wants to talk to your mother-in-law when you can be cuddling your new spouse?”

"Unfortunately, work doesn't give us a lot of downtime. Even getting a few days off for Christmas was something of a coup d’état." Following her into the kitchen, you look around the well-appointed space and note buttery looking rolls sitting on a baking tray nearby and the whole place smells like absolute heaven. "I really can't thank you enough for having us here a few days early. He's been so excited to come home and see everyone again."

“I have so looked forward to meeting you.” She waves away your thanks. “The way Marcus has talked about you when we chat, I just knew that we would be good friends.”

"He is...completely remarkable." The warmth that rushes to your cheeks at that admission is immediate, but it's honest. You won't shrug it away or apologize for it. "I know our meeting was pretty unconventional, but it was like we knew each other instantly. He's really...he's my best friend, on top of everything else. So I've really been looking forward to meeting all of you. To see how he got to be the amazing man I married." It sounds cheesy, like you're sucking up or something, but it's all so true. And since you are every bit as sentimental as your husband, you don't mind saying it out loud.

“Marcus has always led with his heart.” Julia acknowledges and turns back towards the stove to start dishing up large bowls of the chowder. “It has sometimes led him to heartbreak,” she tells you, turning around with the first bowl. “But somehow I think he’s got it right.”

"I love him so much." And you won't hesitate to shout it from the rooftops, either, which has a smile spreading over his mother's face as she works. Immediately jumping in, you pick up the empty basket beside the tray of rolls and stack them inside. She's set the little kitchen table for the three of you to eat at, so that is where the basket will end up. "I already can't imagine how I ever kept my head on without him, and I can't imagine a single day of my future without him in it."

“The perfect thing about it, is that I think you mean it.” She tells you, handing you a bowl of chowder. “In fact, I would bet money on it. I have a feeling about these things.”

"You're the one he gets it from." Accepting the bowl and setting it down, you take the next from her as well and make sure everything is set out. The opening and closing of the front door says that Marcus has returned and that makes your smile brighten reflexively. "He has a reputation for it at work. His sixth sense."

“Of course he does. He’s a hard worker and he follows his feelings.” She shrugs slightly. “Sometimes it is faulty, but I blame that on the other people involved.”

"People largely follow patterns, but the human ability to be unpredictable really does throw a monkey wrench in case work sometimes," you acknowledge. Of course, it can also be what makes your job so interesting at times. When Marcus comes down the hall to the kitchen you can't help the way you beam, leaning back for a second so he can help his Mom with the last bowl and get a pitcher of something to drink from the refrigerator. "It smells amazing, Mrs. Pike." Until she's given you explicit permission, you're not presuming to call her by her first name. You've known too many friends who got on their mother-in-law's bad side off the bat for being considered too informal or disrespectful because they tried to be friendly.

“That is just the best compliment I’ve ever had.” Julia can’t help but melt slightly as she pulls out a chair and motions for you to sit down. “Now, I won’t insist that you call me ‘Mom’, but I also don’t want you to call me ‘Mrs. Pike’. That’s your name too now. So, please call me Julia?”

"Julia, then." Sitting down at the table with Marcus and his mother feels a hell of a lot more comfortable than you had worried it might be. But so far? So far, so good. "Although, since you mention it, having two Special Agent Pikes at work has been fairly entertaining. We keep accidentally getting each other's deliveries from the mailroom."

She laughs, well aware of the confusion and commotion it would cause. “You might have to start adding your first initial to your mail.” She snorts, shaking her head. “Or…do nothing and use the mail mix up as a good excuse to steal a kiss on the government’s time.”

"That's..." You glance at Marcus and you both grin unapologetically before everyone digs into their lunch. "What we've been doing so far. But once Marcus gets his promotion it won't be a worry anymore. His title will change and the mix-ups will be over."

“I still cannot believe that they have not moved you into the role you went to D.C. for.” Julia huffs, frowning fiercely. It seems like that is just wrong to her and it is. Her baby was supposed to be the head of his department by now, but something about delaying retirement on the outgoing head had pushed back Marcus taking over the role.

“Technically, they have,” you assure her, not wanting his mother to think that Marcus isn’t being fully respected at work. “He is running the task force that he was promised. The decision to move him up to head of the department came after he had already accepted the transfer, so it’s on a different timeline. But it’s all on track. The current department head just wanted to finish out the calendar year and he’ll retire at the end of the month. It’s just a matter of weeks now.”

“Well…that’s good, I suppose.” Like any mother she knows, she’s protective over her children and their lives, even when they’ve long left her nest. “And Marc tells me that you work in another department? How are you enjoying it?”

“I work in the white collar crimes division,” you nod, managing not to moan out loud at your first taste of the soup. No wonder this is Marcus’s favorite, it’s like a giant hug. “Mostly I work on fraud cases. Forgeries are my specialty. Which…is how Marcus and I met. I needed an art consultant on a case I was working on, and he’s the best of the best.”

"He is the best." She beams as only a mother can and grins. "Although, at one point, he wanted nothing more than the be a rock star with his band."

“I keep telling him he should start up again.” The grin you throw your husband is nearly victorious. You just know his mother is going to take your side. “A couple of guys in my department need a new bassist for their band and he would be perfect.”

"If he would enjoy it, I have his old bass in the attic." She supplies immediately. "There is no reason you shouldn't take it back with you. I know it's in good condition, I have to keep Kelly's oldest from sneaking it out of the house every time he comes over."

“What do you think, babe?” It’s entirely up to him, even if he never wants to join another band you still want him to have music in his life. “We can absolutely bring your bass home with us if you want to.”

"If you don't mind." His eyes slide towards his mother again, While it was his bass, it had been a last gift from his father and it was something that he could not take with him when he moved out for good. All of the kids had left the last gifts that he had given them in the house they had lived in with him. A kind of living memorial to a man who could never be replaced.

“It’s totally up to you, honey.” His mother promises. “Your brother has been hinting about his little girl being interested in Grandpa’s baseball gear when she’s old enough, so I think it’s time.”

He mulls it over, taking another spoonful of the chowder as he thinks. "I will take it home." He decides after a Moment. "It would be good to start playing again and one day—" His eyes slide warmly over to you. "Maybe it will be passed down to the next generation of Pike."

Julia raises one manicured eyebrow at that and gladly notes the way your expression turns a little dreamy at the idea. “I take it that topic has been bandied around a little at home?”

"We've talked about it." Marcus admits, setting down his spoon and picking up your hand. "We want to spend a little time together first, and figured that we would return to the conversation when I've settled into my new role." That’s what you agreed upon together, but Marcus won’t deny that if it happens sooner rather than later, he’ll be over the moon.

“I have to say.” The smile she aims at both of you is proud and bright. “It sounds like you’re enjoying being married, and that is half the battle in the beginning.”

"We are, Mom." Marcus agrees easily, squeezing your hand and looking over her with pure adoration in his warm brown eyes. "I had one hell of an example with you and Dad, and I think that we would make both of your proud."

******

Celebrating his long-overdue return to his hometown means that Marcus takes you to his favorite little family restaurant for dinner that night and by the time you’re falling into his bed, you’re both feeling relaxed and incredibly sleepy. Getting to see parts of his past is a window into his soul that you’ve never gotten before, and you curl around him in your pjs with a contended sigh.

Marcus has a habit of stroking your bare back until you fall asleep. Since you’re not sleeping nude tonight, his hand slides under your pajama shirt to touch you. “So what do you think?” He asks softly, wanting to know how you feel about his town where he spent his formative years.

“It’s the perfect little slice of Americana,” you tell him with a grin. “I can absolutely see you running around here as the happiest little kid in the world.”

“I had my teenage angst.” He admits with a chuckle, thinking back to how naive he had been about what was truly heartbreaking. “Like most kids do. Rebelled a little.”

"Grew your hair and became a little rock star?" The pictures of teenage Marcus with long curls and shredded t-shirts didn't last for a very long period of his teenage years, but they definitely seem to be among his most treasured memories.

Marcus huffs out a laugh. “Yeah.” He admits. “Almost got a tattoo. Although I’m lucky I didn’t have a scar when my nose ring came out.”

"I'm sooo bummed I missed that entire phase," you giggle into his side, having now seen a plethora of photos from Marcus's younger years. "I would've been all over you in high school."

“Yeah?” He hums, grinning into the darkness. “You would have been my little groupie?”

“Oh totally.” He sounds so utterly pleased that you giggle. “I would’ve been swooning at your feet.”

“I would have let you.” He admits, his fingers trailing up and down your spine. “Given you a private performance.”

Another giggle becomes a snort, and you rest your chin on Marcus’s chest to look up at him. “Your mother might not have liked me so much as a sixteen-year-old groupie, but I woulda been stuck to you like glue.”

“She was actually pretty cool with boyfriends and girlfriends.” He tells you. “She would have just made sure we were being safe.”

“Mmkay,” you hum and laugh. “So it would have been finding refuge here after my parents forbade me from seeing you anymore. Got it.”

He hums. “I could still impress the parents with my manners.” He promises. “No forbidding going on.”

“I just would have snuck out to see you.” It’s a fun little game of pretend to play, and you press a kiss to his chest. “Nothing could keep me from you, babe. We’re stuck like glue.”

“We are stuck like glue.” He smiles at you, ecstatic about that fact, that he’s gotten it right. “Me and you babe.”

******

On Sunday morning, his siblings and their families descend on the house early. All the Pike kids are morning people, apparently, and even more so when mornings include Christmas movies. The clattering downstairs is what wakes you, and you huff a groan into your husband’s side when you realize he’s silently stroking your back in your sleep. “Early.” You mumble, knowing it’s later than the time you get up for work but early for vacation wake up time.

“I know.” He’s eager to get downstairs, but he’s also eager to stay by your side. “But I know Mom will have coffee and fruit strudels downstairs.”

“Tempting.” But it’s not nearly as tempting as morning kisses, and you shift up the bed to snag some.

Marcus hums, smiling against your lips as he holds you close. “Morning.” He whispers between soft and sweet kisses. Enjoying the intimacy of the moment with you before the chaos begins.

“Morning, my love.” There are few things better than these quiet morning moments, and you savor them when you can. Work days are far too busy for cuddling so weekends are precious and holidays? Even more so.

“I’m so glad you agreed to come.” He admits quietly. “They are crazy and loud, but they are my family and I love them.” He grins. “Almost as much as I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Being held against his chest and wrapped up in bed with him is your safe place, but the morning is calling with loud voices so you place a kiss over his heart and stretch. “So exactly how many of your million cousins are coming today?”

“All of them?” He poses it as question and then laughs. “I think after the news I was bringing my new wife leaked, everyone decided to turn it into a family reunion.”

“Ahhh.” That makes you nod in understanding. “So it’s a really good thing that I packed nice clothes for this trip. Got it.” You had prepared for it, expecting to be a little bit on display, but you know how excited he is to be home. It made you want to work extra hard to make a good impression on his family.

“Don’t worry, they will absolutely love you.” He promises. His hand slides down and he pats your ass. “We need to get up and get the day started though.”

“Come on, handsome.” You haul yourself up with a groan after one more kiss. “Let’s get dressed.”

He chuckles as he watches you grumpily get up. You never like to leave a bed without a few good groans and it’s positively endearing to him.

“My body knows it’s a holiday,” you grumble good naturedly, as if you don’t groan about getting up for about three or four sentences every morning regardless. “It’s protesting.”

“Of course it’s protesting.” He shakes his head, climbing out of the bed with far more enthusiasm and starting to make the bed. “You would sleep for twenty-three hours out of the day if you could.”

“Only since adulthood.” Getting ready together is a nice, soothing little ritual and you pull your clothes out of your suitcase with precision. “When I was younger I could just go, go, go. But now?” You shrug and offer him a smile. “Why wouldn’t I want to be in bed these days? You’re there, too.”

He grins and winks at you. “You know, I think I like your thinking.” He flirts shamelessly with you, enjoying how easy it is.

“My logic is unflappable.” You boast, grinning at him and giggling, mood lifted immensely just by his smile. “But we need to get dressed, sir. You have a football game to play, if I remember my Pike family traditions correctly.”

“That’s true. It’s always best to come to the table with black eyes and bloody noses.” He chuckles and strips off his sleep shirt to pull on a sweatshirt.

“How do you expect me to function properly with the mental image of you being rugged and athletic and then the real image of you shirtless? It’s just unfair.”

He hums, smirking at the pouting tone of your voice and he bites his lip. “You’ll have a good view from the kitchen window.”

“Kitchen window?” Even though you know that’s where you’ll be most of the time — what with his mother loving to cook and his sister Kelly running a restaurant in the nearest city with two of their cousins — you still make noises. “My ass is going to be on that porch with a mug of something warm for a front row view.”

He snorts and walks back over to kiss you before he changes from comfortable boxers to more secure boxer briefs. Less chance of his brother ‘accidentally’ hitting him in the groin again this year. “Don’t worry, I’m sure all of you will be out there at some point.”

"I will be sure to spearhead that viewing party." You promise him before patting his ass with a smirk. "I will be watching very disrespectfully."

"What will I get when I score a touchdown?" He waggles his brows at you suggestively.

"Something that is not family friendly." And that is an absolute promise. "Now come on, handsome. I have a whole lot of Pikes to meet."

"Damnit." Marcus hisses quietly, reaching down to readjust himself in those boxer briefs before he slides on his sweats. "Now I want to go back to bed."

"Love youuuu," you sing-song, sashaying back across the room to your stack of clothes.

******

Downstairs is the general chaos that Marcus had expected and he's halfway down the stairs when he hears his brother Alex shouting. "SHUT UP, stop talking about them! They're coming!"

It throws you into an unexpected fit of giggles, and you have to pause mid-stair to compose yourself before hitting the ground floor just behind Marcus. "Nothing bad, I hope?" You ask, coming around the corner to where the living room, hallway, and kitchen are overflowing with your husband's extended family.

Alex, an older, slightly more rugged version of his younger brother with their mother's nose, grins at you. "Oh, just taking bets on if you were making a baby or freaking out about meeting this nut house of family members." He admits shamelessly.

"I am that dreaded thing known as a Night Owl," you admit with your hand on your heart, as if you were admitting to some dreadful sin. "It takes me a couple of extra minutes to get going in the morning. Nothing nefarious, I am sorry to report."

"Ohhhhh nooooooo, Marc – say it isn't so?" Clutching his hand to his chest, he looks at his brother in horror. Always the comically dramatic one of the bunch, he plays it up for all he's worth considering that the entire family is focused on all of you right now. He grins and winks at you just in case you aren't aware that he's not serious. "Take her back! Take her back to the wife store!"

"No returns." With a smirk and a smothered laugh, you wave your ring in the air — earning you some whoops and hollers from the assembled women of the Pike family. "Now I'm gonna get some tea, you boys play nice."

"Damn, she's way too good looking for your ugly ass." As soon as you sail by him, Alex grabs Marcus and pulls him in for a bone crushing hug that only brothers can give. "Fuck, it's good to see you."

"We all missed you." His sister Kelly is on the other side of him immediately, smacking Alex's arm away so she can hug their baby brother.

"Miss you too." He laughs, looking over her shoulder as he hugs his favorite sibling. "You, not Alex." He clarifies and grins when his older brother shoots him a bird.

"No one misses Alex," she laughs, sticking her tongue out at the oldest of the Pike siblings with glee. In typical middle child fashion, Kelly had become loud and active and attention-grabbing in her own right. All of which might have also been a survival tactic for having two very individual brothers. "You're good, Marc? Not working too hard? Mom said they still haven't given you your damn promotion."

"It's coming." He promises with a nod of his head. "Right now, I'm just riding out my time as a flunkie so I can spend more time with my gorgeous wife instead of balancing department budgets late into the night." He tells her with a grin as his eyes slide over the kitchen, hoping for a glance of you.

"Ugh," his sister groans, fully teasing. "He's still in the honeymoon period."

"Hope it never ends." Marcus rolls his eyes when he looks back at her, but he's not lying. He hopes your marriage is just as strong as his parents’. They were in love until the day his father passed and still his mother will happily say that he is the love of her life.

"Gross." Alex chimes in, grimacing at his brother for full effect. It doesn't matter that he and Kelly are both happily married to supportive spouses that they love with all their hearts. They have to tease Marcus.

"Yep." Marcus smirks at his older brother. "She gave me cooties." He warns childishly.

"It's supposed to be the other way around, ya know." Alex ruffles Marcus's short hair and needles his younger brother with glee. "You're supposed to give her cooties. Or did you not pay attention in sex ed?"

He takes the ruffling of his hair with only a small groan and chuckles as he dodges another swipe. "Oh, I paid attention." He promises. "I'm a Boy Scout, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," Alex rolls his eyes. "You never let us forget. Perfect youngest child with his perfect extracurriculars and now his perfect job." Though the older brother might gripe, they're all very proud of Marcus. It's just more fun to make fun.

"Don't forget, perfect wife." Marcus adds. As much shit as they give him, they were also his biggest support system when he was going through his divorce. They had kept him sane and he loves them for it.

"Do we call this 'the third time's the charm'?" Kelly asks, lightly teasing but so incredibly glad to see their little brother happy again. And happier, if this morning is any indication, than they've seen him with any partner before. "I'm gonna tell her all your most embarrassing stories while you guys are playing football. The ones that Mom doesn't know."

"I've already told her." He lies through his teeth, aware that he's not come close to telling you all his embarrassing stories, but he has to put on a brave front. Any and all fear will be utilized against him if he doesn't stand strong. Shrugging, he pretends to be unconcerned. "So go ahead."

"Gonna call your bluff, little brother," she announces before hustling off to find you in the kitchen.

"Shit." He hisses under his breath, dreading what stories she will spread. Alex chuckles and shakes his head. "You're in for it now, little brother."

The kitchen is a different sort of chaos on this Christmas Eve morning, but the sound of the kids watching A Muppet Christmas Carol in the living room is a welcome soundtrack to all the fuss. "It's their tradition," Julia is explaining to you, talking about the next generation of young cousins and their movie choice. "Their parents and some of the older siblings get in on the lawn football game, but they like to watch Christmas movies all morning until we're ready to break out the stuff to make gingerbread houses after lunch."

“Ohhhhh wifey.” Kelly trills as she floats into the kitchen, stopping by the fridge to pull out the bottles of Prosecco she had put in there when she arrived. “It is my duty as your sister-in-law – the best one – to ply you with alcohol and tell you embarrassing stories about my baby brother.” She grins as she holds up the bottle. “Now, OJ or cranberry juice?”

The laugh that bubbles out of you with Kelly's appearance is honest and light, and you finish your last sip of tea before attempting to speak. "It’s a little too early for alcohol for me, but makes yours with a little bit of both." The suggestion is full of absolute certainty and you add, "Trust me," when she tilts her head at you with curiosity. "One part OJ, one part cranberry, two parts bubbly. It's perfect. I’ll just have equal parts orange juice and cranberry juice for now. That’s also absolutely delicious."

“Alright…sounds pretty good. I’ll give it a try.” Her eyes slide over to Julia and she raises a brow. “Mom? Are you in?” She asks mischievously.

"You two have fun." Julia shakes her head, bowing out in favour of letting her middle child and the family's newest member have some one-on-one time. "I'm going to get lunch in the oven early, I think. So we can all relax a little."

“Of course.” Kelly rolls her eyes and looks at you with a grin. “You’ll love Mom’s lasagna. It’s a tradition.”

"I've heard nothing but amazing things." In fact, Marcus has been raving about his mother's cooking. "I hear it's on the menu at your restaurant, too? The famous family recipe."

Kelly nods and shrugs slightly as she snags two champagne flutes from the cabinet. “Still can’t make it as good as Mom can.” She admits shamelessly.

"That's Mom Magic," you hum, not quite admitting out loud that it's the type of magic you want to have one day.

“Also probably the secret ingredient that she’s not telling me about.” Kelly teases her Mom, knowing there’s no ingredient, but loving to rag on her.

"Patience," Julia tells her definitively as she starts to bustle around the kitchen again. "It's patience. And my kids all love instant gratification."

Kelly snorts as she pours the juices into the glasses. “Of course we do, Mom. Why do you think you have grandkids?”

"Could always use some more!" She sing-songs, glancing in your direction with a smirk before turning back to her task at hand.

“Mom, don’t scare her off by being greedy.” Kelly scolds her mother playfully. “If they want to give you more grandkids, they will do it on their schedule.” It’s important that you understand that they will tease and play but they will never be those obnoxious in-laws that demand you do things their way or give them what they want for your life. It was always what Marcus’s ex-fiancée had claimed, that they were too pushy, when they had just been asking questions about their future.

“It’s okay,” you assure both women, not scared off in the least. “We do want kids, just not quite yet. We’re enjoying the honeymoon period a little too much to want to change anything just yet.”

Even though you’re talking about her brother, Kelly grins and winks at you as she picks up her mimosa and hands you your juice. “Practice makes perfect, right?” She jokes.

It’s not even worth hiding your smirk or the mild embarrassment in your face, since she’s absolutely right. “Something like that,” you agree with burning hot cheeks.

“See? You’ll have more grandbabies in no time, Mom.” Kelly taps her glad to yours. “Welcome to the nut house.” She welcomes you. “We don’t bite…hard.”

If it was his friends instead of his family, you might tease that Marcus does bite hard, but his mother and sister don’t need to know about the tender marks on your inner thighs. “Thank you for having me,” you joke instead. “I’m very glad to join this particular nut house.”

“We are happy to have you.” Julia promises as she carefully covers the massive lasagna in multiple layers of aluminum foil. Not wanting the top to burn. Luckily, she had already put it together the day before so it’s ready to go.

******

You were warned about the football game. You really were. Marcus had tried to impress upon you how over-the-top he gets with his brother and brother-in-law and cousins. You had thought touch football on the front lawn was a sort of cute, insanely all-American tradition to have. Even in the snow it had sounded quaint. Now that they’re halfway through the game, though? You can see the people who really have fun with this tradition are the wives and girlfriends. The group of you are up on the porch with mugs of wassail either shouting encouragements or giggling to yourselves in appreciation of attractive men tackling each other (partially) for your amusement.

Even though it’s colder than hell, the men have nearly all removed their shirts. Panting and sweating as they try to their hardest to beat the shit out of each other for sport.

“I love football.” Alex’s wife chuckles when she comes up beside you and Kelly and hands you both iced gingerbread cookies.

“Pass interference!” Marcus shouts, shaking his head and huffing after his cousin shoved him out of the way. “That’s bullshit!”

“Forgot how to play dirty, Fed?” His cousin laughs it off, having discarded his Omaha Fire Department sweatshirt on the porch railing. “Fight back, Marcus!”

“Aren’t you the one who had to have a pack of peas on your nuts last year?” Marcus taunts back. “Thought you were gonna use those tiny peanuts to make a baby?”

“Twins on the way, baby!” The cousin – Ryan – cheers back, like somehow he was extra virile enough to cause twins, rather than it being entirely up to his wife’s anatomy.

“Alright, alright, focus up assholes.” Alex calls, bringing the two men back into the fold of the game. Good natured smack talk is all part of the fun, of course.

“He’s just mad he can’t throw.” Ryan shouts from the other side, grinning when Alex shoots him a bird. “Most interceptions of all the QBs.”

Shaking off the heckling with a laugh, Marcus waves at you and blows a kiss up to the porch as he jogs by to retake his position. “So you’re Marcus’s new…fiancée?”

You hear the question from elsewhere on the porch and you turn to face the speaker. “Wife.” It’s his cousin Ryan’s pregnant wife, of course, and you steel yourself with a forced smile. Marcus’s cousin Ryan had married his ex-wife years after the divorce. Honestly you can’t quite figure out how the whole family seems okay with it, but they are. “I’m his wife.”

“Oh?” Her eyes widen and her hand stops rubbing her rounded stomach. “That’s— I hadn’t heard! Congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you.” She actually seems to mean it instead of having some underlying sarcasm, and that soothes you right away. “It was recent. I guess word is still getting around.”

“I’m sure Julia wanted to make a big toast tonight.” She bites her lip and sighs. “I’m Vanessa. I hope you don’t hold it against me.”

“Honestly?” A small laugh bubbles out of you, surprising you both. “I ought to thank you. If you hadn’t divorced him, then I could never have married him.”

Staring at you for a second, she grins back at you. “You’re welcome, then. Part of the cousin-in-law package.” She snorts. “Free of charge, of course.”

While you don’t think Marcus ever would have lied to you about what happened, it seemed a little too straight forward to you. Like maybe he was leaving something out to spare feelings, which is definitely something your sweet and generally gentle husband would do. “I hope it really was as painless as Marcus says.”

“Oh, Marcus was – is – amazing.” Vanessa insists immediately, having enough affection for Marcus that she is still willing and able to come to his defense. “We met freshman year of college, decided it was love, and didn’t have a clue what love really was.” She shakes her head. “We adore each other, just— as friends and not partners.”

“I admit, I couldn’t really understand why the whole family seemed totally fine with everything.” Deciding to be honest, you just shrug and take a sip of wassail. “But it only takes thirty seconds to realize that there’s no ill will, and that’s…it’s a big comfort.”

“I met Ryan when I was working on my masters.” Vanessa admits with a sheepish grin. “He had been in the military and deployed when I was with Marcus. I didn’t even know until we were talking about meeting the folks.”

“It would have been a very awkward surprise.” Being able to laugh together is a relief, one that you’re not going to take for granted at all. “I’m glad to see that everyone has ended up happy. That’s so rarely the way, and it’s a shame.”

“It is a shame and I hated that Marcus was having a rough go for a while.” She frowns fiercely and shakes her head. “I don’t know what that Lisbon lady was thinking but she could have done so much better breaking things off with him.”

“She doesn’t have the greatest reputation around the office.” You admit, though the whispers have gotten to you through backways, and only since you started seeing Marcus so you’re sure you only hear the bad stuff. “Either way, everyone is happy. That’s what matters.”

Vanessa nods after a moment, her frown turning into a smile. “I understand if you find it odd, or don’t like me on the principle that I’ve slept with your husband, but I hope we can be friends.”

"It doesn't make any sense to be upset with you over something that happened years before Marcus and I ever even met." Putting your hand out to her, the offer of a handshake is your formal show of a truce. No hard feelings. Not from your end. "I'm happy to be friends."

“Well, that went better than I ever hoped.” Amy admits, coming out of the kitchen with a fresh bottle of Prosecco. “Top off on mimosas, anyone? The juice content is getting a little high.”

A few people around the porch take her up on the offer, but you politely shake your head and decide to stick with wassail. The game seems to be wrapping up as well, which means it will soon be time to do the traditional Pike family Christmas Eve gift exchange before dinner. At some point Marcus's mother had read about the Icelandic tradition of receiving a book to read on Christmas Eve and loved it so much that it has become tradition.

“Whoever gets ’Beautiful Secret’….” Vanessa hums, waggling her eyebrows. “You’re welcome.”

"Welcome to the real tradition," Kelly jokes, looping her arm through yours as the group from the porch starts to pour back into the house in advance of the football players. "Most of the books exchanged between the adult members of the family are a little...saucy."

“Mom pretends she doesn’t know any of them.” Amy snorts, grinning knowingly. “But that woman has a stash of trashy romance novels from the seventies in the attics and somehow, those boxes are multiplying.”

"Marcus clued me in," you promise, following your two sisters-in-law inside. "I brought my best offering, I promise." The choice you made was very specific, and really has one recipient in mind. Even thinking about it just makes you nervous for what’s to come.

“Of course he did.” There’s a grin tossed your way. “Marcus was the one who was always reading Mom’s books when she wasn’t looking.”

"I'm not even mad about it." A laugh bubbles out of you that you don't bother to stifle, and you shrug. "It's purely educational for him, I swear."

“Ugh, I don’t want to know about my brother’s bedroom habits.” His sister shudders playfully before she points her finger at you. “As long as he’s taking care of you.”

“Oh, I promise.” He’s more than taking care of you. Marcus treats you like a queen. But Kelly doesn’t want to know that so you just smile and let the happy, hazy expression on your face do the talking for you.

“Ohhhhhhh.” All the women in the kitchen making a knowing noise and grin at you. “That answers that.”

“Answers what?” The oldest Pike sibling is the one to lead the charge into the kitchen and Alex makes his way over to his wife to kiss her before going for a bottle of Gatorade from the refrigerator.

“If your brother is taking care of his responsibilities.” The kiss is accompanied by a cheeky grin.

“I thought you couldn’t talk about the case yet?” Alex looks back at Marcus, who comes into the kitchen behind him.

Marcus frowns in confusion and props his hands on his hips as he catches his breath. “Huh?”

“Not that,” you laugh, reaching to give your sweaty husband a hug. “We were just talking about the book exchange and got a little off-topic.”

“Oh?” He eyes his sister and sister-in-law with playful suspicion. “Don’t believe a word they say.” He jokes.

“Sure, honey.” You snicker lightly. “But they should believe me.”

“Of course.” He scoffs, leaning in and dropping a soft kiss on your lips with a grin. “Federal agents are held up to a high standard.”

“Yes, we absolutely are.” It earns him another kiss, and those familiar butterflies in your belly that have been so active lately swell up again at just how much you love him.

“I’m gonna jump in the shower.” Marcus tells you. “Kicking ass made me sweaty.” He grins again.

“Hurry back.” Partly because you miss having him at your side, but also because it’s almost time for the book exchange, and you’re just as excited as you after nervous for that.

Marcus winks. “Of course, sweetheart. Ten minutes, tops.”

“Then we’ll start the book exchange in ten minutes.” His mother decides. And the kids can go first, just in case he takes a few extra minutes.”

“And so they are reading.” Vanessa snorts. “Less likely to pay attention to our books.”

“Probably better for everyone,” you agree, offering a smile and a knowing laugh.

******

Marcus is true to his word, bouncing down the stairs with wet hair and fresh clothes nine minutes later. The spicy, musky cologne he’s wearing is one that you picked for him and he loves it. “I’m back. So stop talking about me.”

“It’s only good things, babe.” When he plops down beside you in the living room window seat, he has a wrapped gift in his hand that looks like the size of a standard novel and it makes the thick volume in your lap feel even heavier. No turning back now…you remind yourself silently.

Mistaking your slightly tighter grip on the book as nerves, Marcus reaches over and takes your hand. “They love you, babe.” He whispers confidently. “My brother was already telling me he likes you more than he likes me.” It was a joke, but it makes him happy that you are so easily accepted into the fold.

“Alex seems easily swayed,” you tease, leaning into Marcus’s side. “All I had to do was promise to listen to all of his favorite embarrassing stories about you.”

“Thanks, creep.” Marcus scowls at Alex, pretending to be mad while his brother hams it up. “Anytime man!”

“Alright, alright.” Julia comes back into the living room with her own parcel in her hands. “Kiddos first. Everybody circle up!” The grandkids and cousins scramble to comply, all sitting around together knee to knee after strategically choosing who to sit next to like their lives depend on it. When Grandma Julia gives the word, everyone passes the book in their hands to the person to their left.

“Now. Exchange the book with the person across from you.” Julia grins as the shuffle starts.The kids eagerly comply, giggling gleefully, and then again when Julia tells them to pass their books two people to the right this time. Around and around, the books pass, each kid squealing when the brightly colored package they want gets closer. “Alright just two more moves.” She warns. The books get passed across the circle diagonally and then once more three people to the left before Julia says to go ahead and open their gifts, and then she turns to the adults with a grin. “Ours is less complicated,” she promises. She likes to get the kids riled up but the adults are always already so tired that she just turns on a Christmas song and announces that the game is ‘musical books’. “Just pass it to the right until I tell you to stop or the song ends.” White Christmas begins to play and you anxiously hand your wrapped book over to Marcus as they begin to go around the circle.

Marcus grins as the groaning from the adults starts. The jokes and the laughter as they try to shove the books into the person next them as fast as they can. “It’s fun!” He promises you.

It is fun. Or it would be, if you weren’t praying that his mother remembered her end of the deal that you made last night after Marcus had shooed you both out of the kitchen to wash up after dinner. You had admitted that your book gift was specifically for your husband and she had assured you that she would make sure it ended up in his hands. You just hope she sticks to that.

“Okaaaaaaaay.” Julia is watching the book like a hawk. Making sure that it’s close. “Aaaand…stop!” She orders.

Your heart leaps when the large book ends up in Marcus’s hands, and you breathe a deep sigh of relief. “Everybody open up!” Kelly laughs excitedly, but you can’t. Frozen in your seat beside your husband, you watch as he peels the carefully folded and taped wrapping paper to expose the bright yellow cover of the book you selected for him. At this point you’re just holding your breath, not realizing the entire room is watching you.

Marcus reads the book’s title and frowns for a moment. This was your gift. “I— babe?” He sputters, looking up at you with the most hopeful expression on his face.

“Open it,” you murmur softly, already starting to tear up at the light in his eyes.

“But you said—” he doesn’t want to admit how he had wished you had said you were ready when you kept saying it wasn’t the right time, but he wasn’t going to push you. “Okay.” Opening the book, he finally looks away from you.

The dated sonogram is staring him in the face when he pulls open the cover of We’re Pregnant! The First Time Dad’s Pregnancy Handbook accompanied by a handwritten note in the deep blue ink of your favourite pen.

“Meeting you was a surprise, falling in love with you was as easy as breathing. Marrying you came like wildfire, and now being parents is our next great adventure. The tiniest Agent Pike is expected in July.”

“Oh my God.” Marcus chokes out, barely able to breathe as he stares at the tiny little nugget on the picture. “Babe…we’re gonna be parents.” It hits him and the book is dropped into his lap as he surges forward to kiss you.

The entire crowd of Marcus’s family around you have exploded into a ruckus of gasps and shouts and cheering, but your world has narrowed down only to him. You’ve been sitting on this secret for two while weeks and barely managed to contain your own excitement. Sure, you had said you wanted to wait. To enjoy being married first. But that baby was having none of it. It bypassed your birth control like a champ, and from the moment your doctor told you it wasn’t stress or a seasonal flu running you down, you’ve been ecstatic.

“Baby, baby.” Marcus can’t help but giggle and grin against your lips as he kisses you over and over again. “I love you. So much. I can’t—”

“Breathe, baby.” And yet you can’t help giggling, breathless right along with him. “Can’t have you hyperventilating on me. We’re gonna have to get through a whole lot in the next seven months.”

“I— I thought you wanted to wait.” He shakes his head, trying to understand when this happened, how. Even if he logistically knows how.

“I thought I wanted to wait, too.” You shrug, though, laughing through giddy tears. “But I’m so excited, honey. I can’t believe I actually managed to keep it a secret.”

“Oh my God.” Marcus pulls you close, everyone around him fading to the background as he focuses on you. “I can’t believe you did either.” He admits, unable to stop beaming at you. “This is— you can’t ever top this Christmas present.” He decides with a laugh.

“Nope. Never.” Wrapped up in him is exactly where you want to be, but first you wipe the tears from under his eyes and press kisses to his cheeks. “But I have no problem with our first Christmas being our best.”

“I love you so much.” Marcus can’t even stop himself from caressing your stomach, in awe of the knowledge there’s your baby inside.

“I love you, too.” You’ve already lost track of how many times you’ve had your hand on your unchanged stomach since you found out about the baby, and you know that that’s only going to increase now that you can do it together. “And I love this little peanut so damn much.”

“You’re gonna be a Mom.” He chuckles. “And I’m gonna be a Dad.” He’s always wanted to be the father that his own was. Continuing the legacy of Pike dads.

“Merry Christmas, love.” Murmured against his lips, you kiss him one more time before his whole family descends on you with shrieked glee and hugs and a deluge of congratulations. Your first Christmas with the Pikes will probably never be topped, but that’s okay. It’s the perfect next step in your perfectly imperfect life.

______

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #pure fluff #Christmas fic #all-American softie #The Mentalist #Mentalist fanfic

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