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gojos-thot-patrol · 8 months

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Otherwise known as Seven Minuets in Heaven Part. 2 ;)

Find Part One Here!

Dating isn't easy, and falling in love is even harder. Ryomens love for you isn't up for debate, you're the only girl he's ever felt this way about. What is questionable though is if he's ready to leave his playboy life for you. Were diving back into the Modern Day Frat Boy AU

Warning: This fic contains smut, fingering, cunnilingus, a creampie- you know the drill, as well as Hurt/Comfort, possessive themes (especially in the smut), yandere themes if you squint, and a very much unwanted kiss. Reader discretion is advised <3

It’s surreal just how many times a heart can break before it shatters. How many times you can watch your boyfriend, who swore oh so many times that you were his one and only, flirt with truly breath taking girls before you finally snap. How many times you can accept the unacceptable before it feels like a full body breakdown, before you’re hiding in your room, crying into his hoodie because despite everything he was still so comforting to your stupid heart that still hadn’t caught up with your brain in terms of relationship status.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. This story technically starts four months ago, and about a week after your first personal encounter with Ryomen Sukuna.

“Hey man, are you gonna eat that?” Gojo asked, pointing to Ryomens waffle. Sukuna barely looked up from his phone before pushing the plate over to the white haired man, who took it greedily. The act caught the attention of group empath (derogatory) Suguru Geto, who raised an eyebrow at Ryomen from the other side of his coffee cup.

“You feelin’ ok man?” He asked, setting the mug down.

“She still hasn’t responded to my text, but she read it. Is this what getting ghosted feels like?” Ryomen asked, finally looking up from his phone, “This shit blows, why do I keep doing it to people?”

“Because you’re a creep.” Nanami said without thinking from behind his book, ignoring the glare from both Suguru and Sukuna.

“Is this about the girl from the party?” Geto questioned, failing horribly to hide his genuine shock. “You haven’t moved on yet?”

“Can’t blame him, she was hot as fuck.” Gojo pointed out, not even bothering to swallow the food in his mouth. A move that would backfire when Suguru hit his back, causing him to choke.

“It’s not for a lack of trying!” Ryomen said, pointedly ignoring Satoru, “Trust me, I have. I even tried hooking up with that one girl from the Kappa Phi Beta sorority, fucking....” He snapped his fingers to try and remember her name, “Yuki? I think?”

“And?” Gojo asked.

“I couldn't go through with it!” He snapped, more in frustrated with himself than anything else, “I felt like…wrong about it, like dirty. I faked a stomachache to get her to go home.”

“Uh huh.” Suguru said, sharing a concerned glance with Gojo. “Go on.”

“The whole time I was just thinking about Y/n.” He sighed, now earning Nanamis attention too, “About what she would think, and what if she finds out and it hurts her, I just…I couldn't do that.” Ryomen grumbled, resting his cheek on the table. It felt good to vent. Until he realized all three of his friends were looking at him as if he had just grown a second set of arms and two more eyes. “What?” He asked.

“Ryomen…” Suguru started slowly, trying to think of how to put this gently, “You…are a fucking moron.”

“Poor bastard..” Nanami muttered, shaking his head.

“This bitch got his dick wet once and fell in love.” Satoru laughed. Ryomens entire soul flinched at the suggestion, and panicked at the notion it could be right.

“No, absolutely not, that’s insane.” He insisted, sitting back up. “I’ve known her for like, a week! Who falls in love in a week?!” Frat boys in fan fiction, thats who.

“Then why are you getting so caught up in the fact she hasn’t texted you back?” Suguru asked. This was not helping Ryomens panic.

“Because it’s weird! Normally girls text me back immediately.”

“Right, so why does it matter so much that this one hasn’t?”

“Because…because!-”

“Because you’re in love.” Gojo giggled.

“Say that one more time Satoru and I’ll put Nair in your shampoo bottle.” Sukuna threatened. Satoru was suddenly very quiet.

“You still haven't answered the question,” Geto reminded him.

“It’s because I don’t want the other girls to text me back! I want her to! I want her attention, I want to talk to her, I want- Oh god damn it.” His ramblings turned into a near whine as he dropped his head into his hands at the realization. Suguru patted his back, trying to be comforting.

“It’s okay man, it happens to the best of us.” He assured him. He handed him his coffee cup, “Here, try this. It might help.” Ryomen had no fucking clue how black coffee was supposed to help, so of course he had to try it. The moment it hit his tongue he realized why it was supposed to help, almost spitting the drink out at the shock of the flavor. That wasn’t coffee. He looked up at who claimed to be the responsible one.

“Fucking Kahlua?” He asked. Geto shrugged.

“Technically its a black russian, so some vodka too.”

“Suguru It’s seven am.”

♥️♥️♥️

Two weeks after that conversation, you still hadn’t left that poor fools mind. "Either I didn't hear you right or you've picked up a coke habit." You scoffed. He shook his head.

"Nah, coke's a rich person drug. A lowly college student like me can only afford crack."

"They're the same thing, different forms."

"Tell that to the law." He shrugged. You dropped the argument there, knowing he had a point. You just rolled your eyes.

"Then I must not have heard you correctly." You groaned, "why are you inviting me to go fuck at your dorm at," you checked your phone, "8:17 AM?" He grinned and you wanted to punch him in the face. That grin never failed to make your heart flutter and squeal and want to marry him. Stupid fucking heart.

"I never said hook up, I asked if you wanted to go on a date.” Ryomen clarified, “Like, to go get lunch or something.” And this is where your confusion came in. You had been casually sleeping with Ryomen for a few weeks now, which was fun. But you had convinced yourself he would never want anything more. Why would he? You thought he had a roster of beautiful women getting in and out of his bed, why would he give that up to be with just one? It didn’t make sense to you.

“Ryomen, I thought we agreed we were going to keep it casual.” You reminded him. It was the unwritten contract the two of you agreed to when you started hooking up. It was to keep both of you from getting hurt feelings. He sighed and raised his hands in defense.

“Okay, not a date.” He paused for a second, “Hey, do you wanna like, go get dinner tonight, maybe catch a movie and then head back to mine?” He asked. You felt a blood vessel pop. At this point in your “relationship” with him, you were almost positive the only thing he kept behind those pretty doe eyes was the god damn audacity.

"Ryomen, that sounds like a date." You pointed out.

"Does it?" He played dumb, "well, if you insist we can make it a date." He fucking grinned again.

"No."

"Oh come on!" He said it loudly enough to earn a sharp shush from the teacher, reminding him that other people were here to learn not date. He rolled his eyes and returned to a whisper. "What's the worst thing that could happen if you go out with me?" He asked.

What's the worst thing that could happen? Easy: You fall in love. You already knew you liked him way more than any reasonable person would or should. His sense of humor fell in line perfectly with yours, you had similar taste in music and movies, and you knew that he was more caring than he would ever care to admit; a trait you noticed from watching him interact with his friends. To top it all off, he was smart as hell, and he was about as beautiful as God said the Devil would be. He was fucking dangerous, and so easy to love, you couldn't blame any of the girls that fell before you.

And that was the issue. Ryomen had a vice, and it was women. You’d seen it in action on campus, the way past flings would come up to him to try and rekindle something that was never lit in the first place. And he ate that shit up. He loved basking in the attention given to him, and if it made you jealous now, you couldn’t imagine the fights you’d get into if he was officially yours. And you really didn’t need a criminal record.

"What's the worst that could happen?" You reiterated, "I get Syphilis."

"I hate to break it to you, beautiful, but if that was the case you'd already have it." He chuckled. Yeah, you walked right into that one. You pinched the bridge of your nose, repressing the urge to yell at him that it was way too early for this shit.

"Ryo-"

"I love it when you call me that."

"-Men, Ryomen let me finish," you groaned, "I'm really trying to pay attention here, can you just drop it?" You sighed in exasperation.

"Sure, if you agree to go out with me." He smirked.

"Why are you so desperate for this date?!" You struggled to maintain a whisper, "Isn’t what we’re doing right now enough? You’re already getting what you want out of me, why do you want more?"

Ryomen felt himself shatter, like a wine glass being forced to endure Mariah Careys’ high note. He thought the two of you had moved past your perception of him as a fuck boy using you for you body but, apparently not. Did you not know? Did you not know you were the only woman that was allowed to sleep in his bed? The only girl who he brought to just casually hang out with his friends? The only person in the world that he had ever cuddled with? He didn’t talk about his after graduation plans with any of those other girls. He didn’t talk about his little brother, or why he was a business major to them. He didn’t stay up all night talking to them because he just wanted to hear their voice. All of that was reserved for you. You had no idea just how special you were to him.

"Because I don't just want your body, I want you!" He said just a little bit too loudly. Great, now people were looking, "You've all I've been thinking about for weeks, do you know how weird this is for me?! I'm going crazy over you, and you won't even give me a chance, You won’t let me prove to you that you’re important to me!” You could feel the eyes of the classroom drill into you, and it made you want to shrink away. Something had to give.

"If I agree to go on one, count them, one" you held up a finger for emphasis, "date with you, will you shut up?"

"Without hesitation."

"Fine, then shut up." You chastised him.

"Wait, so is that a yes?" He smiled wide, and if he was a dog his ears would have perked up.

"That's not shutting up!" You reminded him, "it's only a yes if you don't say another word this entire class period." He beamed as he nodded, giving the universal sign for 'My Lips Are Zipped' as he settled into his seat, and you wondered what the hell you had gotten yourself into.

♥️♥️♥️

“You dress way too extravagant for him.” Mei Mei sighed as she saw your outfit. You didn’t see where she was coming from. A tight, albeit plain, black mini dress with pumps was hardly what you would call extravagant. Though, you supposed in the context of your typical wardrobe it was quite the contrast. But, this was your fifth date with Ryomen, and he told you to dress nice. You thought back to your one date stipulation, and almost laughed. You really didn’t expect that first date to go so well.

“Aren’t you the one that told me there’s nothing wrong with dressing up for a date?” You asked as you finished putting on your earrings. She rolled her eyes as you threw that back at her.

“Yeah, if you think your relationship with the guy might actually go somewhere it’s fine.”

“Who’s to say my relationship with Ryo won’t go somewhere?” You scoffed as you turned to her. She scoffed back.

“Ryo?” She all but sneered, “Gross. And it won’t go anywhere because it’s Ryomen Sukuna. He’s like, the literal definition of manslut. He’s going to break your heart Y/n, and you’re not even his official girlfriend. You’re his toy.” Mei muttered. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. You knew her condescension came from a place of concern. Mei Mei had been with a lot of guys, and had her heart broken by even more. You almost took what she said into consideration. Then you remembered she had never really expressed concern for you before your situationship, and quickly brushed her off.

“He’s waiting for me.” You smiled at her as you left your shared dorm. You found him standing outside the building, exactly where he said he’d be. He always looked handsome, but tonight he looked damn near dashing. The black dress shirt and slacks worked for him, especially with the sleeves rolled up. He grinned when he saw you, and your heart squealed like a school girl in a shoujo anime. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t walk a little faster to get into his arms.

“Hey gorgeous,” He laughed as he picked you up in one of his signature bear hugs. You could get lost in the comfort of his arms. He sat you down with an adoring smile.

“Hey Handsome,” you winked, “Ready for our date?” He was taking you to a super upscale restaurant downtown. One of those places where you have to make the reservation like, a week in advance and pay way too much for not enough food. Admittedly, it made you kinda nervous.

“No, not at all,” His confession was disguised with a joke. He was as nervous as you were. “I have to give you something first.” By the power of plot, it was only then that you noticed the thin box in his hand. He lifted it up, presenting it to you as if he was a jeweler as he opened it. You didn’t quite process what you were looking at at first. It was a small white gold, cursive R with small rubies embedded into the stem of the letter. The pendent hung from a dainty white gold chain, and every ounce of your poor kid blood just knew that necklace cost more than your parents rent.

“Ryomen, what the fuck?” You asked, not fully processing the situation.

“I like to mark what’s mine.” He shrugged with a devilish smirk, “You don’t have to take it, but I bet it would look good on you.”

“I look good in everything,” You said, taking it out of the box to admire it. It really was a beautiful piece of custom jewelry. Your first reaction was to reject the gift. Gifts like these didn’t come without conditions, expectations. You knew that by accepting the necklace, you were accepting Ryomen. You couldn’t deny your situation anymore, couldn’t delude yourself into thinking the two of you were less than what you were. You’d have to accept the reality in front of you, the future in front of you. You looked at him and felt the smile tug at your lips. “Will you put it on me?”

“Gladly.” He said, trading you box for necklace. As he fastened the ornate safety clasp around your neck, he leaned down. “I trust you know this means you’re my girl, yeah?” He whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You hummed, placing a hand on his head to hold him still while you kissed his cheek. Mei Mei was gonna be pissed.

♥️♥️♥️

“Look, we’ll only be there for like, thirty minuets,” Sukuna groaned, rubbing his temple with his left hand. “ABO is throwing the party, so all of us have to show some face.”

“Do you have to show some face, or sell some weed?” You asked, crossing your arms as the two of you walked down the street. In the two months you had been with Sukuna, you had been to more parties than you could count. Which was really starting to stress you out, considering you fucking hated parties.

“Why cant it be both?” he sighed.

“You still haven’t explained why I need to come.” You huffed, pulling down your short dress. You had been trying to put more effort into your appearance lately, and experimenting with just how much skin you were comfortable showing. Sometimes you got it right, sometimes you didn’t.

“I told you babe, guys are fucking idiots. They wanna buy drugs from the guy with the prettiest girl on his arm, and when you’re with me, I’m always that guy.” He smirked, hoping that was going to diffuse the situation at least a little bit. It didn’t. Of course it didn’t.

“Really? You’re flirting with me? Right now?” You scoffed.

“It was worth a shot, right?” He shrugged.

“I’m going to fucking bite you!” you threatened, stopping in your tracks to emphasize how pissed off you were. He sighed again as he stopped and turned to face you. He put his hands on your hips and pulled you closer to him, fighting the grin that came up as he noticed the slight shock on your face. He managed to suppress it though, and put his puppy dog eyes into action for evil.

“I know you don’t want to go babygirl, I’m sorry,” He murmured to you, ghosting the back of his knuckles along your jawline, “But will you go? For me? I’m only asking for thirty minuets.” Fuck. Fuck. This was a dirty tactic and he fucking knew it. You sighed, dropping your forehead onto his chest, and hugging him back as he pulled you into a proper embrace.

“Fine, but…can you promise me you’re not going to flirt any other girls there? Or let them flirt with you?” You muttered.You didn’t just hate parties for the drunken social aspect of them, though that was a part of it. No, you hated them because they always started fights in your relationship. Normally, you loved being with Ryomen. He was sweet and caring, and you knew he loved you. But he also had a problem with leading on other girls.

You knew his attention whore antics would be a problem, and while you believed him when he said it was never physical- just flirting, that he didn’t even realize he was doing it, it always hurt you anyway. There was always a seed of doubt that it wasn’t as subconscious as he claimed. That maybe he didn’t love you as much as he said he did.

“Of course baby girl, you know you��re my one and only.” He promised, wrapping his arm around you as he walked you to the fraternity house. You had a sinking feeling in your soul this was a bad idea, one that only got worse as you saw all the drop dead gorgeous women in the room.

“Hey, I’m gonna go grab us some drinks, want anything?” He asked, knocking you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll come with.” You said, following Ryomen to the kitchen. There sat Nanami in his designated spot behind the bar, half heartedly listening to an art major talk about the impressionist movement. He was nodding along like he understood, like he was engaged, but there was no light behind his eyes. You felt bad for the art major.

Ryomen grabbed two cups of the frat jungle juice for the two of you. You took yours and quickly started to chug without even considering who made it, and almost immediately gagged at the burn. You managed to choke it down after a fight for your life. “What the hell is in that?!” You snapped.

“Oh, Suguru made the juice this time,” Nanami said, taking any opportunity to leave the art history conversation, “It has like, an entire bottle of everclear in it.”

“An entire bottle?” You asked in disbelief, “Is he okay?”

“No.” Nanami scoffed, as if you should know.

“Hey, Ryomen!” Satoru laughed as he and Suguru spotted Sukuna. They walked into the kitchen. “And Y/n!” Gojo gasped when he saw you, always shocked to see you at these events no matter how many you attended. He ran over and hugged you, causing you to chuckle softly and Ryomens eye to twitch. He quickly got in between you two, pulling you from Satorus arms and into his. Gojo rolled his eyes, but otherwise let it go.

“I’m glad you could make it!” He smiled.

“I always do,” You laughed to hide your frustration with that statement.

“We’ve got a beer pong table set up outside, wanna play?” Suguru asked. There was a beat before you realized.

“Wait, me?” You asked, a little shocked. You fully expected him to be talking to Ryomen.

“Yeah, you,” He chuckled, “You’re our Fraternity Sweetheart, we gotta show you off somehow, right?”

“She is not the frat sweetheart.” Ryomen scoffed before you could process the information.

“Oh yes she is!” Gojo declared, “Everyone on campus knows it!” Everyone except you apparently.

“No, shes not!” Ryomen insisted. He hated that they called you that. It made him feel like he had to share you with them, a thought that made him actively violent. They could find some other sorority sister to be their sweetheart, but you were his. “Nanami, back me up here.”

“Sorry man, I’m with the boys on this one.” He shrugged, “She’s at all of our events, she’s here every weekend, the chapter loves her.” Oh he did not like the verbiage used there.

“I love how you guys all thought to ask me how I felt about this, so very thoughtful of you.” You laughed at the absurdity of it all.

“Yea, exactly! You don’t even want to be a sweetheart, do you baby girl?” Ryomen asked, fully turning to you. A realization hit you like a truck trying to teleport you to a fantasy world. Something in the way he said baby girl, in how intense he was in fighting against the tittle. Ryomen was jealous. Of course, this was nothing new, but the idea of him being jealous of these guys just felt so absurd to you. You were used to giving into his jealousy, to baby it and tend to it; like a dutiful nurse. Protecting his ego at all cost. Your first instinct was to continue that tradition, but then you thought about it again. He never went out of his way to try and take care of your jealousy. And being a fraternity sweetheart may actually be fun.

“I mean, I am at every single party you guys throw, I might as well be the sweetheart, right?” You smiled and the other guys cheered, even Nanami let out a little whoop! Ryomens eyes looked dark though. He knew exactly what you were throwing in his face. You wanted to say being this petty was unlike you, but since you started dating Ryomen…

“You offered beer pong?” You smiled to Suguru, who gladly took you outside to the table, Satoru tagging along with a reluctant Ryomen dragging behind.

It had been four months since you first slept with Sukuna, and two months since you got together. Sometimes you questioned that decision. Actually, you questioned it a lot. You questioned if he ever actually wanted to be in a relationship, or just liked the idea of it. If he wanted to have someone stable waiting for him at home while he still got to do what- or who- ever he wanted. The way he talked to some of the girls at these parties made you think that was the case. He talked to them almost as if he forgot he had a girlfriend, or worse, as if he resented the fact he had one.

Which was so unbearably confusing for you! He pursued you so fervently, as if he was convinced you were soul mates. You were happy to keep things casual with him for exactly this reason. He was the one that wanted to take things to the next level, He was the one that made things official, hell- He was the first one to say I Love You! And it’s not like he tried to hide you, he posted you on social media, he took you out as often as he could, that motherfucker tried to get a tattoo of your god damn name! Thank God Suguru talked him out of that one. It didn’t make sense to you that he would be this obsessed with you regularly, but the moment he got a few shots in his system and a cute girl approached him it’s like you were a ghost to him. It made you fucking angry.

The air was warm and full of laughing as you played against Satoru.

“Hey, you have to bounce it, you can’t throw it!” He giggled, trying to swat away your ball.

“Oh, but you can swat it?!” You scoffed through smiles, “Unfair rules!” This was your third round, and he only had one cup left. That being said, he was about half way through yours, and you were definitely starting to feel it. It was actually kinda nice to be thoroughly enjoying a party. To feel like you were here to hang out with your friends and not just to please your man.

“Come on Satoru, how are you going to lose to someone who’s wasted?!” Suguru laughed, grabbing your elbow to help steady you. You should have known something was wrong when Ryomen didn’t step in.

“By also being wasted!” Gojo chuckled as he completely missed his shot and you sunk yours. Cheers and hollers erupted in the crowd, and you proudly threw up both hands as you had won again. You felt like a star. Like you were actually cool, and accepted. You felt amazing. You looked over to your darling boyfriend to share the moment with him.

Only to feel every once of warmth leave your body when you saw him talking to another woman. You knew her well, Amanda from your english class. She talked all the time about how hot Ryomen was before the two of you got together, and joked about stealing him after. From the look of that heart wrenching grin he had on while he talked to her, it looked like she had a chance.

“Walk away. Just walk away.” You thought.“Come to me.” She laughed obnoxiously loud at a joke that probably wasn’t even that funny. Even he looked surprised at the reaction he got. Then she got closer. Your body went into rigor mortis as your lungs forgot how to work. “No. Please No.”

She kissed him. The next three seconds felt like three years. You watched her wrap a hand around his neck and pull him closer, wrap another hand in his hair and you fought vomit. It was a tender act you thought was sacred between the two of you. You guessed not. You ran off, not having the heart to watch anymore. You didn’t see him push her away and onto her ass. You didn’t hear him yell at her.

“What the fuck skank?! Why the fuck would you do that?!” He scoffed, aggressively wiping his mouth.

“I-I’m sorry! I just thought the conversation was going well, so-”

“So you fucking kiss me?! Do you do that to every man you have a conversation with?!” He physically spat, “You didn’t even fucking ask! Have you never heard of fucking consent?!”

“Look, I thought-!”

“No, you didn’t think of shit! I have a fucking girlfriend, do you know that?! Jesus fucking christ.” He groaned, walking away from the situation to find you.

You were making your way through the house to go home, fighting tears because you’d be damned if these assholes saw you cry. You swam through the sea of drunken bodies swaying in the house. The bass from the music felt all too intense, the lights all too bright. Everything was just too much. You felt disconnected from and all too aware of your body all at once, and all you really wanted was non-existence.

“Leaving so soon?” Nanami asked from his place on the houses steps as you walked out. He looked up, noticing the tears you had let slip, and his eyes widened a bit. He immediately dropped the asshole act, standing up and placing a concerned hand on your shoulder. “Y/n, are you okay? Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Ryomen is a cheating bastard.” You managed to gasp through choked breath. This whole not crying thing was so much harder than you thought. That didn’t sound like the Ryomen Nanami knew though. The Ryomen Nanami knew didn’t shut up about his girl. He wanted to marry her after graduation, he was trying to build a life with her. He wouldn’t cheat on her. Something wasn’t right.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, but that can’t be right. Theres gotta be a mis-”

“I gotta go Kento.” You whimpered, brushing his hand away. You refused to listen to one of his frat dude friends try to defend him. You took off the R that weighed down on your neck, his claim to you, and handed it to Nanami. You knew you wouldn’t be able to face him again to return it. “Please give that to him, I need to leave.” You muttered, all but running away from the party.

You should have known better. You did know better. You hated that you expected this and still got hurt. Everything just felt so unbearably heavy. When you broke up with your last boyfriend, you just felt numb. You felt about as inconvenienced by it as when they got your order wrong at Mcdonalds. Annoyed, yeah- maybe even pissed off. But ultimately you got over it quick, it had barely hurt your week.

But this? This felt like hell. This felt wrong. Like when a loved one suddenly dies, or if your house burned down while you were away; like the universe was fundamentally broken- turned upside down and left to rot. You felt so fundamentally stupid for giving him a chance. For letting him trick you into thinking he was in anything other than lust. For falling in love with a demon like him. All of the devotion and warmth you held for him tasted so fucking bitter, like it had been preverted and turned into a curse. You wanted to crawl home and tell your mom she was right.

But, your dorm was much closer. “Hey nerd, how was the- oh no.” Mei Mei said, looking up from her laptop as she heard the door open. You looked like a rejected member of Kiss, make up running down your red face, hair a mess from the outside wind.

“Mei mei, he-” You tried to get it out, but just choked on your words, breaking down into the sobs you were holding back. Mei rushed over to wrap her arms around you and keep you from collapsing in on yourself.

“Oh sweetheart…I’m so sorry.” She sighed, leading you over to your bed and sitting down with you. She knew what happened without you saying it. She knew it was going to happen. She was mostly just shocked it took this long.

“I’m so stupid..”

“Yea, a little bit.” She confirmed, patting your back and shushing you as you broke into another sob. Your phone went off. She checked it for you, snarling at the ‘where are you?’ text he sent. That motherfucker had a lot of gaul. She tossed your phone into your desk drawer, then went and grabbed the emergency ice cream she kept in her fancy mini fridge. She joined you on the bed with two spoons and her laptop.

“Okay, what do you wanna watch?” She asked, pulling up netflix.

Meanwhile, Ryomen was losing his mind looking for you, and Nanami was losing his mind looking for him. “There you are!” Kento snapped as he finally found Ryomen coming out of their shared dorm.

“Nanami, have you seen Y/n?” He asked immediately, “I can’t find her, and I’m about to start hitting people about it.” He said, running a nervous hand through his hair. He had never lost you for this long before, and he was really starting to panic now. If anything had happened to you, he was going to make tomorrows nine o’clock news.

“Yeah, she ran out like an hour ago saying you cheated on her, is that true?” Nanami asked, feeling like he already knew the answer.

“What?!” Ryomen snapped, grabbing Nanami by the shoulders, “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that an hour ago?!”

“Because I’ve been looking for you for an hour dipshit!” He yelled, pushing Ryomen off, “Answer the question!”

“No it’s not fucking true! Why the hell would I do something that fucking stupid?!” Ryomen scoffed at the very idea of such a thing. He remembered his encounter with Yuki, before the two of you had even become casual partners. The thought of trying to be with another woman made him nauseous then, and that feeling had only intensified as your relationship grew.

“Then why does she think that you did?” Nanami questioned further, trying to get to the bottom of the situation.

“I don’t know! I-” Shit. He didn’t even finish his sentence before the unwanted kiss flooded his memories. A hit from a sledge hammer wielded by Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson would have been softer than the realization that not only did you see the kiss, but thought it was welcomed. Suddenly, he didn't have blood in his veins anymore, only liquid nitrogen. “Oh my god, she saw Amanda kiss me.”

“What?! Ryomen, you said you didn’t che-”

“I didn’t!” He snarled, “She kissed me when I was trying to sell to her. I pushed her off, it was not mutual!” The last thing Suguru and Gojo expected to find when they went to slip off to their room was Nanami and Ryomen fighting in the hall, but, suppose theres a first time for everything.

“Whats going on?” Gojo asked, needing to be in the center of every drama ever.

“Y/n thinks Ryomen cheated on her.” Nanami explained.

“You fucking what?!” Suguru hissed, ready to fight on your behalf.

“I didn’t actually do it!” Ryomen yelled in his own defense. “She saw Amanda kiss me, but I guess missed the part where I yelled at her for assault!”

“Well she’s officially on the ban list.” Satoru stated what everyone else assumed went without saying.

“Wait, where is Y/n now?” Geto asked.

“Home, I assume. It’s where she was going.” Nanami explained.

“I have to go get her.” Ryomen said more to himself than anyone else, attempting to leave before Gojo stopped him.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Satoru asked, “If it just happened, she may not be willing to listen to you yet.”

“No, Ryomen’s right. The longer he lets this sit the worse it’ll get.” Suguru pointed out. “This is something you address immediately.”

“Not necessarily! She may be working it out on her own,” Satoru was being delusional, “I mean, has she broken up with you yet right? Like officially? Cause if not, showing up at her doorstep out of no where may be the end your relationship.” Wait, he had a point.

“No, She hasn’t broken up with me.” Ryomen sighed in almost relief. You two were still together, that ment there was hope. Hope of a conversation, hope to save the future he had built for you two. Maybe all wasn’t lost.

“Yeah, so…about that.” Nanami muttered almost sheepishly as he held up the white gold necklace you had tossed at him. Ryomen felt his soul evacuate his body and the liquid nitrogen in his veins turn into lead. The room was spinning and the only thing he could focus on was the jewels that should have been around your neck. The symbol of your relationship, dangling abandoned from Nanami's fingers. You had left him and he didn’t even know it.

“Shit.” Mai Mai muttered, checking her phone half way through an episode of whatever you had put on. “Shoko got too fucked up and needs a ride home from the bar.” She sighed. You knew what that meant.

“That’s ok,” you managed a smile, “Go make sure she’s safe.”

“Are you going to be okay?” That was a loaded question if you’d ever heard one.

“Yeah Mei, I’m not gonna like, kill myself or something stupid like that.” You forced a laugh to really sell that you were falling apart. Mei gave a concerned face, but knew that Shoko still needed her help.

“I’ll be back in like, an hour, ok?” She said as she grabbed her keys, “If you need anything or god forbid he shows up, call me, ok?” She demanded more than asked.

“Okay, I will.” You sighed, waving off your friend as she left. Once alone, you decided you might as well take the opportunity to get into pajamas. You shuffled to your closet, feeling more like a zombie than much else. That was until you opened the door to reveal Ryomens hoodie hanging up with the rest of your clothes. The icy tendrils of despair returned, and despite your better judgment you pulled the old hoodie down.

He had left it here a few weeks back, and you had been snuggling up in it ever since. At the time it was a major comfort, now it was just another thing to return later. Despite yourself, you still hugged it, imaging you were just hugging him goodbye for some closure. You hoped it would help you let go. Instead what happened is you were greeted with his familiar scent, pine and cigarettes, and your eyes started gushing again.

You collapsed onto your bed as you clung to the fabric, wishing it was him. That tonight had never happened, and he was still yours. It was a nice thought. Your pity party was interrupted by what could only be described as a cop knock on your door. It startled a yelp out of you, and almost scared you enough to make you forget you were sad.

“Y/n, please, let me in.” Mother fucker! Why would he think this was a good idea?!

“No Sukuna, I have nothing to say to you.” You snapped, and he cringed on the other side of the door. He hated when you used his last name for him. It made him feel like his father.

“That’s fine! Just let me say what I have to say.” He begged, “Y/n, it’s not what you think.”

The Audacity

How fucking dare he show up to your door with the worlds lamest fucking excuse and expect it to work?! How fucking dare he act like you didn’t have two working eyes! The rage that filled you with pushed you off the bed and to the door, throwing it open just to smack him across the face. His eyes blew wide at the attack. He had never seen you violent before. He kinda liked it.

“You’re a real fucking douche bag, do you know that?!” You snapped, “You spent fucking months trying to get me to agree to be with you, just to do this to me! Do you know how much this hurts?!”

“Y/n, I-!”

“I’m not done!” You shouted, officially pissing off your across the hall neighbor.

“Take it to your dorm, not the hall!” Utahime yelled from behind her door. You growled, but reluctantly pulled him into your room, closing the door behind the two of you.

“You lead me on for fucking months, fucking months, making me think you loved me and wanted to be with me, just for it to turn out to all be a lie! Then, when you realize you fucked up, you turn up at my door with the lamest excuse known to man! What the fuck do you have to say for yourself?!” You hissed, venom dripping for your lips like thick cyanide.

“She kissed me,” He explained, holding up his hands when he saw you open your mouth to argue, “You asked me what I had to say for myself, right? This is what I have to say, just let me talk.” You closed your mouth reluctantly, waiting for him to continue.

“She started talking to me because she wanted to try pot and knew I had some to sell. I sold her an ounce and we kept talking about her fucking major or some shit. Honestly, I don’t even remember what we were talking about, I was just trying to give good customer service. But I guess she was into it, cause out of no where she kissed me. But I didn’t kiss her back, Y/n! I pushed her off of me, I yelled at her that I had a girlfriend, hell, I’m pretty sure I fucking spit on her. You have to believe me Baby, I wanted nothing to do with that!”

He was talking fast and panicked, and not at all like how he normally spoke. Like he was scared for his life, grabbing his hair and trying to control his breathing. His fear almost transferred to you, but all you really wanted was to hug him, to assure him it was okay. A part of you wanted to deny it all, because that was so much easier than admitting you were wrong and jumped to conclusions. That you let Mei Mei and your mother get into your head.

But you knew your boyfriend better than that. You knew that this wasn’t the ramblings of a liar, but the ramblings of a desperate man needing to be heard. The honesty in his eyes, the tremble in his normally steady voice. You thought about how Nanami tried to argue with you when you first accused Ryomen. At the time you refused to hear any of it, but Nanami had never been one to bull shit anyone or defend his fraternity brothers shitty actions. And suddenly, your stomach filled with stones as you realized what you had done, what you had almost thrown away.

“Ryomen,” You muttered, slowly approaching him as if he was a hurt animal.

“I kept looking for you after it happened, I was going to tell you! But you were gone-”

“Ryo,” You tried again to cut through his thoughts, standing close enough now to touch him.

“But then fucking Nanami found me, and he had your necklace, and-” Oh shit, he wasn’t there anymore. You recognized a doom spiral when you saw one. You gently grabbed his cheeks and forced him to look at you. Those puppy dog eyes you fell in love with were wide and full of fear, filling you with a sick dread that made your skin feel far too tight.

“Baby, look at me. You’re getting lost in your head.” You said softly, using your thumb to wipe away a stray tear.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry I-”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry I ran away instead of just talking to you about what happened.” You sighed.

“Yea that was kinda hypocritical of you.” He nodded.

“Ryomen.”

“I’m just saying, you’re the one talking about how important communication is.”

“And I apologized, did I not?!” You laughed at the emotional whiplash of it all. He let a small smile slip as he watched. He finally felt like he could breathe again. He pulled you into a tight hug and kissed the top of your head.

“I swear, this love shit’s gonna put me in the ground.” He more gasped than laughed, the crash of his body no longer being in fight or flight mode weighing heavy on him.

“Ain’t that the truth.” You huffed, shaking your head as best as you could against his chest. Your body still hadn’t gotten the memo that things were okay now. Your bones still felt like they were shaking in your skin. He parted enough to hook his finger under your chin, tilting your head up at him. Your heart skipped a beat, taking in how soft he looked in the moonlight fluttering in from your window. He was proof god had favorites. He smiled softly to you.

“I think you’re worth it though.” He whispered, before leaning down and pressing his soft lips to yours. It didn’t matter how many times they two of you kissed, your heart always freaked out about it- like a mega fan in the pit at a concert. Your arms instinctively moved to wrap around his neck, he he took you by the hips, pulling you deeper into the kiss. He bit your lip, and took the opportunity of your soft moan to slip his tongue into your mouth.

Your body started warming back up, his comforting smell putting your panic response to ease. Your nervous system pulsated back to life, sparks flying in your blood waiting to be caught in his inferno. On one hand, it felt almost wrong to be kissing him so soon after the events of the night- like a betrayal of yourself. On the other, your heart craved him like a drug, his affection gave you a high that nothing else could even come close too. You felt like you were spinning and a heat was quickly pooling in your legs that you knew he could take care of.

One of your hands tangled into his soft pink hair, tugging softly. He took that as his que to pick you up. You wrapped your legs around his hips long enough for him to sit you down on the side of the bed. His kisses moved from your lips to your cheek, to your jaw, to your neck. You moaned softly as he sucked soft bruises into your collar bone.

He pushed you back down on the bed, lowering himself to his knees in between your legs, like a sinner praying for forgiveness at an altar.. You were suddenly pretty thankful you hadn’t gotten around to changing yet. He hiked the dress up around your hips, smiling when he saw the underwear you were wearing.

“Black lace, huh?” He teased, forgetting the past like, hour and a half apparently, “Were you planning this sweetheart?”

“I assure you I did not plan on us breaking up.” You laughed. He did not like that you used the words “Breaking Up” and “Us” in the same sentence. It didn’t affect him they way that it did before. It didn’t fill him with that overwhelming feeling of panic that it had earlier. It didn’t freeze him in place. Instead, it just filled him with white hot rage. Surely you knew better than that, right? You were his, you weren’t going anywhere. “Breaking up” was not an option. He just had to remind you who you belonged to.

“Good thing we didn’t break up.” He said. Before you could protest, he pushed your panties to the side and ran his warm tongue along your folds, earning him a soft, pretty gasp from your lips. He smirked to himself, noticing how wet you were from just kissing, gathering the silky liquor on his tongue, and swirling it onto your clit. He started spelling his nickname with his tongue, R. Y. O, R. Y. O, and you were lost to whatever he wanted.

Your body pulsated with electricity, every swipe of his tongue sending a new wave of bliss through your body. You moaned out his name, fingers tangling into his hair to try and keep yourself grounded. You felt like you were made of pop rocks and stars, eyes rolling back in pleasure, pulling him closer to your core. You could feel a tsunami building inside of you, a sea of pleasure threatening to over take you.

“Have I ever told you how sweet you taste?” Sukuna moaned, sliping two fingers inside of your gushing pussy. You mentally added that to the list of weird compliments you had received since becoming bedfellows with the wannabe bad boy. Or, tried to I should say. As you were filing the thought away, he curled his fingers into your g-spot, turning any coherent thoughts you had had before into oh fuck that felt good and fuck I’m already getting close. Ryomen felt the way your cunt clenched around his fingers, and felt his own dick twitch. He knew how that clench felt around his cock, and more than anything he wanted to feel it again.

“Ryo, I-I’m...yea” You tried to warn him, but the electric shockwaves going through your body made communication rather difficult at that moment.

“Oh yea?” He chuckled from between your legs, punctuating his sentence with a sharp suck to the bundle of nerves between your legs. “Then cum for me pretty girl.” It didn’t take much after that, his words of affirmation waking up butterflies in your stomach and in your cunt. A few more curls of his fingers and swipes from his tongue and suddenly cartoon stars were exploding in front of your eyes. Your climax tore through you with a vengeance, the storm hitting you and drowning your senses in bliss and oxytocin. Your entire body felt like it had been struck by lighting made of erotic thrill, the aftershocks leaving you shaking in it’s wake.

Your soul was still trying to make it’s way back to your body when his lips met yours again, your taste mingling with his on your tongue and leaving your head spinning. You went to grab his shirt, finding that he had taken it off at some point, which was more than okay with you. He nipped at your jaw and your neck before pulling away and getting you up long enough to take your dress off you. You went to take off your bra, only for him to stop you.

“Hey, hey, whats the rush?” He asked from the foot of your bed, wicked grin showing off his naturally sharp canines, “Take it off slowly.” This was 100% a power play and you know it. Normally this fucker was literally ripping clothes to get them off you quicker, your sudden uptick in panty buying could attest to that. But now all of the sudden he wanted to go slow? Fine, you could play that game.

You stood on your knees to give him a better view, slowly shimmying the straps off your shoulders. His scarlet eyes burned into your every movement as you slipped your arms out of the straps as elegantly as one could. You made eye contact with him as you unhooked your bra, one hook at a time. Or, tried to at least. His eyes were trained on your chest. You grinned at the aggravated groan he let out, watching you catch the fabric before it fell and revealed your breast. His eyes were dark and you could tell by his shifting his jeans were getting too tight.

“Slow enough for you?” You smirked at him.

“Keep running that mouth and I’ll give you something to do with it.” He warned, and you just laughed, finally letting your bra drop to the mattress. You saw his body physically tense as to not grapple you then and there.

“You want my mouth? Oh, but I’d much rather have you somewhere else.” You teased, looping your thumbs into the sides of your underwear as you started to pull them off your hips at an agonizing pace. Ryomen felt like he was going to lose it, feeling his fingers, among other extremities, twitch with the need to touch you. He tried to be a good boy, he really did, but when you rolled your hips at him he lost it. In a flash he had pulled you under him, and was fumbling with his belt.

“Hey, what happened to slow?” You teased.

“Fun experiment, not for me.” He responded, freeing himself from his jeans and lining himself up with your still dripping entrance. He caught your lips in a kiss as he dived in, swallowing your sweet moans as he filled you to the brim. It didn’t matter how many times Ryomen was in between your legs, it always felt like the first. The burning stretch as his hips connected with you setting your body on fire and filling your brain with tv static. You could feel your already weak legs tremble around him, and he groaned as your pussy fluttered around his cock.

“God pretty girl, you feel so fucking good for me.” He moaned, setting a brutal pace as he pushed into you, his cock brushing against your g-spot and massaging your cervix. “Like you were made to be on my cock.” Who he was talking to was a mystery to you because you were not there. You were in outer space, floating on atoms and space dust as he rocked into you, bliss filling your veins as you felt euphoria spread through you and pool in your core.

He threw one of your legs over his shoulder, letting him dive even deeper into your velvety walls. He grabbed your hips in a vice grip, no doubt leaving bruises you could take finger prints off of. Every thrust hit your g-spot, the new position letting him reach places that you didn’t know existed. “Oh, fuck, Ryo don’t stop.” You begged.

“Didn’t plan on it,” He assured you, watching the way your eyes screwed shut in pleasure. “Hey no-” He growled, removing his hand from your hip to grab your chin, “Look at me.” You whined as you opened your eyes, meeting his lust filled gaze. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You Ryomen..” You moaned, feeling yourself reaching your peak.

“Who’s the only person that makes you feel this good?” He demanded the validation.

“You, Ryomen, you!” You squirmed underneath him as all of the stimulation became too much. Your hands started to tingle as your body got ready to tumble off a cliff. You weren’t even fully processing what he was asking, you just knew to say his name.

“Who do you belong to Y/n?”

“Ryomen..” You whimpered, digging your claws in his back as your legs trembled, “Ryo, please..” You gasped, teetering on the edge. His hand left your chin and found your clit, massaging expert circles into it. It was your tipping point, sending you hurtling over the edge of your orgasm and head over heels into euphoria, the sea of bliss overtaking you as red hot lava replaced your blood. You felt almost dizzy as you were hit with wave after wave of ecstasy, vision going blurry with tears from the intensity of it all.

Ryomen wasn’t far behind you, the feeling of your cunt clenching around him, pulling him in deeper and deeper with every convulsion. He told himself he really couldn’t have pulled out even if he wanted to; filling you until you were overflowing and thanking Aphrodite for the invention of birth control. He rolled you over as he collapsed next to you, managing to stay inside.

The two of you stayed like that for awhile, breathing deep in your afterglow, before he finally pulled out, albeit reluctantly. He kissed the top of your head, fixing his pants and finding a washcloth to clean you up with. “I’d say sorry for the mess but, It’s kinda hot.” He chuckled softly. You rolled your eyes and threw on his shirt.

“Dick.” You muttered. He nodded in agreement.

“Is that a request? I could go again.” He grinned as you weakly hit his arm with your finger tips.

“You’re lucky I love you.” You grumbled softly. He nodded.

“I know…I love you too.” He whispered. He waited a second before adding, “We’re still together, right?” more as a formality than anything.

“No, I slept with you as one final hurrah before deleting your number.” you joked.

“Oh, well then, I guess you won’t be needing this?” He asked, pulling your pendant from his pocket. Your eyes widened a bit as you saw it, almost forgetting that you had ever taken it off to begin with. Your hand instinctively went to your neck to protect it, only to find nothing there. obviously.

“My necklace-” You said, but he shook his head.

“Nope, my necklace. Unless you wanna be my girlfriend?” He smirked that evil smirk. You laughed fondly at him, then gave an overly exaggerated sigh.

“Well I suppose, if it’s the only way to get my jewelry back, then we gotta get back together.” He chuckled as he hooked the chain around your neck again, admiring the way it dazzled against your skin.

“It looks good on you.” he praised, kissing your forehead.

“Everything looks good on me.” You winked.

“WHAT HAPPENED TO CALLING ME IF HE SHOWED UP?!” Mei yelled as she finally returned home.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・ Taglist ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

@risuola @grimreaqueer @baji-keisukes-wife @aliensbelieveinme-blog1 @marenalee @ryosuku

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #frat boy! sukuna x reader #jjk frat boy au #fratboy!sukuna #soft sukuna #hurt/comfort #college au #modern au #sukuna smut #curseless au

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ovaryacted · 3 months

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GIRL DAD! LEON HEADCANONS

So, I was not expecting this to be so fucking long, but here we are. At this rate, this should just be considered a fic & analysis post all on its own lmao. But yes, here are some extensive headcanons of Leon being a girl dad because as a writer it’s my duty to make this man happy since others won’t (I’m looking at you Capcom). No specific age of the child is mentioned but look at this as a general periodic analysis of Leon being a father. Hope you like it! :)

2.0k words | cw: tooth-rotting fluff, just Leon being a sappy dad

I think it’s become a universal and widely accepted headcanon that Leon would be a girl dad, and likewise that he will become the softest man imaginable. A man like him who has seen and witnessed so much violence and gore in his life, completely melting because his little girl has him wrapped around her finger is the most precious thing ever.

During the pregnancy, Leon would already be protective and gentle, wanting his partner to never lift a finger so he’d do everything and anything possible to make it an easy time for them. I also would like to think that he doesn’t care what sex his child is, whether it be a boy or a girl, he doesn’t have a preference, all he wants is for his baby to be healthy and happy. So throughout the pregnancy, you both agree to keep the sex of the baby a surprise, focusing more on their health and how they’re doing as they develop every week.

So the day you go into labor a week earlier than expected, he’s worried that things might go badly and his anxiety is on 10. But after hours of pain and distress during childbirth, the second he hears the loud shrill cry of his child he feels tears building in his eyes. He’s happy, genuinely happy that his baby is here in the world, and his emotions only intensify when he hears the words “Congrats, it’s a healthy baby girl!” from one of the nurses.

A baby girl. His baby girl.

He finds himself crying more than he’d like, and obviously, he’s trying to be strong for you as your body shakes from the over-exertion of labor, but he can’t help himself. As he watches the nurse put your crying baby onto your warm chest and notices how she instantly calms down the moment she hears your voice, he can feel his heart growing in size at the sight.

His two perfect girls, all in one place.

It’s a while before he gets the chance to see his child once they’re all cleaned up and swaddled in a comforting blanket, rocking a baby pink hat. His eyes are taking in his daughter’s features for the first time, going over her cute little nose and round cheeks. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so perfect, so small, and it amazes him that he managed to partake in creating something like that. Leon doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but the moment he looks at his daughter he thinks he finally understands what that feels like.

The first time he gets to hold his daughter, he’s terrified, thinking that he shouldn’t be touching her to begin with. His child is pure, untouched by the horrors of the real world and his hands aren’t unwashed of everything he’s done. He’s held weapons of destruction and killed more things than he could count. You’d have to remind him constantly that his child doesn’t know anything about what he’s done to survive, about what he’s been through, and that no matter what she won’t blame him for it and will still love him because he’s her father.

Over time, he gets used to holding her, thinking it’s almost comical how small she looks tucked nicely against his bicep and chest. Holding his daughter quickly becomes a source of comfort for Leon, feeling like the world just stops the moment he has her in his arms where she’s safe. You would find him sleeping on the couch with her on his chest, her head right against his heartbeat and lulling her to sleep.

As his daughter grows, Leon only becomes more attached. He’s always taking care of her, ready to feed her, change her, tend to all of her needs, and talk to her. In a way, he knows it’s good on your end so you can rest and recover, and he gets closer to his child, a child he never knew he could have. He could spend hours just looking at her, watch how her big blue eyes take in her surroundings, and he loves having her tiny fingers wrap around one of his own.

Sometimes at night, he’d just look over her as she slept in her crib, watching her little body take in every breath while the nagging voice in his head told him that she’s a figment of his imagination. He’d spend some nights sleeping in the rocking chair in her nursery to watch over her, not caring for his sore back in the morning. It’s a process Leon has to go through on his own, and you don’t push him in any direction, just let him handle it while reminding him you’re there to support him. He has to do it to accept that his child is real and isn’t going to disappear the next time he blinks, and once his mind finally accepts that fact he’ll be less paranoid.

Eventually, he’s around his daughter so much that he develops a sixth sense to her moods. He knows when she’s about to cry, when she needs a bath or to be changed, when she’s hungry. He gets so good at taking care of his daughter that he’s in tune with her emotions, his fatherly intuition becoming stronger the more he interacts with her. This also means that he generally hates seeing his baby girl cry, it tugs at his heartstrings when he thinks she’s upset or hurt. That’s why when it’s time to bring her to the doctor to get her first shots, Leon starts to cry when his daughter cries from the injections. He hates thinking he’s hurting his child despite knowing it’s necessary for her health, but that doesn’t mean he hates it any less.

“I know sweet pea, I know it hurts. I’m sorry darling”

For the record, he’d have a list of terms of endearment he’d call his daughter on top of her name, but the one he reserves specifically for her would be sweet pea. Of course, he’s called you that once or twice, but during the pregnancy he called the baby sweet pea when they were the actual size of a pea. That name just stuck with him, and now that he has a daughter, it’ll be the one name that’s solely for her.

Leon is always shopping for her, buying her stuffed animals or anything she remotely likes. He quickly develops a bad habit of not being able to tell his daughter “no”, and that doesn’t make her into a brat, she just has a dad that wants to spoil her. In Leon’s mind, whatever his daughter says she wants, she gets, no matter how ridiculous or expensive. If she says she wants a kitchen set and it’s tea party time, Leon will get one for her and sit down with the rest of her plushies at the table and act the part. If she says she wants a damn pony he’s gonna get it for her (obviously he doesn’t because you stop him from doing something ridiculous) but he tries and it’s endearing.

His daughter will continue to grow and develops a personality that closely resembles his own, matching her appearance she got mostly from her father, moles and all. She’s smart and perceptive, a sweetheart and so kind it warms his chest. But his favorite part of his child’s personality is her spunk and sense of humor. He makes it a habit to test out his corny dad jokes on his kid, just so he can hear her laugh and giggle regardless of how old she gets. Leon does it so he can see her bright smile, not caring if it’s just gums or a full set of pearly white teeth, it’s all he looks for. He tries to be the cool dad, and he thinks as long as he has his daughter’s approval he can do anything.

Leon is always open to spending quality time with his daughter, and if anything she’s the one that initiates. He remembers when she first started walking, her wobbly little legs making him worry when he glanced at her taking her first steps. Now that she can run mostly anywhere around the house, she’ll walk towards his direction, raising her arms above her head so Leon could carry her. He always does, always says yes no matter how his body feels. He’ll try to hold her and carry her for as long as he possibly could because that’s his baby girl and he’d do anything to make her happy. Leon is fully aware that eventually, he will get too old or potentially too weak from an injury to carry her, so he stays active as much as he can and maintains his strength for that reason.

He’s always with her, whether that be playing with her and her toys, or just talking to her about anything that comes to mind. Leon and his daughter become attached at the hip, twins essentially. She’ll ramble about things and ask him silly questions, and Leon will communicate with her too. When he does talk to his daughter, he speaks to her like an actual adult and it’s the funniest thing ever. She could be babbling when she’s a toddler and Leon would give a very lengthy explanation of the anti-capitalistic ideology and how much he hates how taxes are broken down. It would be even funnier when she starts to talk and he becomes the designated person she goes to when seeking answers to anything on her mind.

“Daddy, is the moon made of cheese?”

“Yes, I think it’s made out of mozzarella”

“Really? So does that mean cheese balls are moon rocks?”

“Exactly sweetheart”

He loves to entertain her, to make sure he keeps up with her curiosity and interests no matter how silly they are. In a way, this is how he protects her innocence and makes sure his daughter knows that he’s her friend, that he cares for her, and that she will always be safe with him. He tries very hard to keep all of the negative and toxic things he knows is out in the real world away from his kid and household all together, prioritizing her happiness and health above all else. That includes not mentioning anything about his job or what he does, and actively going to therapy so he can show up better than the last time she saw him. He tries every day to be the best dad he could be for his daughter, because he wants to be the father he never had, so he tries and that’s what matters.

His child knows that sometimes he has to go away for days to weeks at a time for work. She doesn’t fully understand what Leon’s job pertains to but just knows that he goes off to fight the bad guys. In her precious mind, she sees her dad as a superhero, looks up to him in admiration, and gets sad whenever he has to leave. But when it’s time for him to part ways with his family, she gives him a big hug and words of encouragement and love. She sticks out her small pinky finger, which Leon curls with his. It was part of his good luck ritual, making sure to pinkie promise his return and that he’ll be safe and he never breaks his promise. He always adored how her eyes carried the same determination he has when he’s focused on his missions.

“Promise to be back daddy?”

“I will sweet pea. I’ll always come back for you”

When it comes to him out on the field, he usually doesn’t keep any form of identification on him as a safety precaution, so he keeps stuff like his wedding band at home. But his daughter will give him a friendship-beaded bracelet to carry with him, and he’ll wear it proudly on the opposite wrist that isn’t occupied by his watch. It’s not visible to others because of his gloves, but the weight of it against his skin is what keeps him going and keeps him motivated as he takes out any threat that presents itself. When he returns home no matter how his body feels, his daughter is the first one to come running towards him with that wide smile on her face. He wraps his arms around her, hugging her tightly as if she will disappear at any moment, and he will continue to do that for as long as he can.

Leon and his daughter are two peas in a pod, she is his missing piece and makes him feel whole with every moment they share. He’ll do anything to make his daughter happy, and he doesn’t mind being wrapped around his baby girl’s finger, because that’s where he belongs.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

#girl dad!leon kennedy #girl dad! leon #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil leon kennedy #resident evil fanfic #girl dad leon supremacy yas!#ovaryacted thoughts #ovaryacted drabbles #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 9 months

Note

The part where Jeremiah’s like if I start kissing you I’m scared I won’t be able to stop or something like that! Chills

My Jeremiah stuff keeps flopping, why are you doing this to me...

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Under the moonlit sky of the golf course, everyone was getting ready for bed. Steven and Taylor had gotten tablecloths and cushions from the debutante ballroom. It wasn’t as comfortable as a real bed, but it was better than sleeping on the grass. At least it was summer. And thank god it wasn’t pouring rain.

Not feeling tired yet, you decided to walk around. These past nights, your dreams have been haunted by bright blue eyes and a sweet smile, as if pressing you to make a move on Jeremiah Fisher. You shared a kiss on the boardwalk last summer and didn’t stop thinking about it all year. It was embarrassingly pathetic.

Talking about Jeremiah, you spotted him by the golf cart, folding tablecloths to make blankets. A smile curled on your lips and you walked toward him.

‘’Hey, Jere.’’

‘’Hey,’’ he returned, short and dry.

A frown drew between your eyebrows. ‘’Do you want to go inside and finish the movie?’’

‘’Not really. It’s kinda late.’’ He continued folding the tablecloths, completely ignoring you.

‘’Oh. Okay.’’ You nodded, understanding. It was late. ‘’If you ever need a place to sleep tomorrow night, you can come to my house. I’m sure my parents—’’

‘’That’s very kind of you, but no thanks.’’

You lowered your eyes at the grass, watching it slip between your toes in your sandals. You were trying to be kind, but he obviously didn't want your help.

He was still upset about the house and his aunt and dad teaming up to sell it, but there was something else. Something related to you.

Last night, on the boardwalk, he was sweet and touchy and even gave you some of his candy he and the boys won. Now, he was a different person. Cold. Distant. It’s like he didn’t want to talk to you, to be with you.

You could only think of one thing related to you that Jeremiah could be acting strange over.

‘’Is it because of the kiss we shared last summer?’’

You hadn't talked about it since it happened and kisses often make things awkward in friendships.

Jeremiah shook his head. ‘’It’s not that,’’ he said. ‘’I…I liked the kiss.’’

‘’Then why do you keep pushing me away? Since you arrived in Cousins, you’ve been so confusing. You almost hold my hand in the theater and now you push me away like I have plague. I can’t decipher those mixed signals, Jeremiah. I'm not a detective, I'm a teenage girl.’’

With a deep breath, Jeremiah looked directly into your eyes. ‘’Because when I’m alone with you, all I think about is kissing you and if I kiss you, I don’t know that I can ever stop.’’

His words hung in the air, mixing with the crickets' chirp, a confession of feelings you were not expecting to hear tonight — or ever. Your heart started beating faster in your chest, realizing that you had been wrong about Jeremiah. He wasn’t giving you mixed signals because he was playing with you, he was giving you mixed signals because he was scared of his feelings for you.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Jeremiah spoke first.

‘’Life has been really hard these past months, but I never wanted to push you away. I wanted to call you after our kiss, I wanted to ask you on a date and hold your hand and kiss you again. But I found out about my mom and I couldn’t think about anything else,’’ he admitted, his voice soft and earnest.

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of insincerity, but you didn’t see any.

‘’When I saw you at Rosie’s, I was so happy.’’ A genuine soft smile tugged at his lips, thinking back to two days ago. ‘’Seeing you face to face is much better than through your instagram.’’

You raised an eyebrow at him. ‘’You stalked my instagram?’’

Jeremiah covered his face and groaned, embarrassed. ‘’Is that all you picked up?’’

You uncovered his face and intertwined your fingers with his. ‘’No, but it’s an interesting anecdote. I didn’t know you were the type of guy who stalked girls on social media.’’

‘’I’m not!’’ he defended, regretting saying that now.

‘’I know.’’ You chuckled. ‘’I’m just teasing you.’’

A sense of warmth and comfort enveloped the two of you, the tension that had been lingering between you dissipating. Although all of your friends were sleeping a few meters nearby, it felt like there was no one else in the world but the two of you. Especially when you looked up into his eyes. It’s so easy to get lost in their beauty and forget everything else.

Jeremiah let out a small laugh, relieved that you were taking his confession and embarrassment in good spirits. He looked down at your lips, thinking about the last time he tasted the vanilla cupcake lip gloss on them. Were you still wearing the same? It probably wore off by now, but Jeremiah was dying to know if you tasted the same.

Taking a small breath of courage, he leaned in closer, closing the distance between you and gently pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was soft and tender, Jeremiah’s hand coming to cup your face gently while yours reached his shoulder to pull him down to your height.

When you broke apart, you smiled against his lips, dying to kiss him again. ‘’Do you want to set your blanket next to mine?’’ you suggested, glints of hope in your eyes.

Jeremiah nodded. ‘’If that’s okay with you.’’

—

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @Heartsforneteyamsully @aerangi @hallecarey1 @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup

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#jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher imagine #jeremiah fisher fanfic #jeremiah fisher x reader #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty imagine

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butdaddyilovehim-hs · 7 months

Text

Obsession - Part 1

Summary: Y/N meets her brother's girlfriend's dad for the first time... and they can't seem to stay away from each other. Warnings: older!H, age gap romance, smut to come, angst

Word Count - 4k

"Jake, they're going to be here soon, right? You need to come downstairs so you can introduce me when they get here."

"Calm down, Y/N. I'm coming. Is the food ready?" Jake calls from his room. Y/N nods as she pulls the tray out of the oven before realising that he can't see her and yells back an affirmative. This is big. Jake had never invited any of his girlfriend's families to meet her - it had simply never been that serious before. But he seems to really like Isla, and Y/N, being the protective big sister, made him organise something. From what Y/N knows, Isla's mom is out of the picture, and she lives with her dad.

As Y/N quickly sets the table, she can't help but think about how much has changed since their parents' tragic accident five years ago. She was just 19 at the time, thrust into a world of responsibilities she hadn't been prepared for. But she rose to the challenge, becoming not only Jake's guardian but also his closest confidante and friend.

Now, at 24, Y/N is balancing her own life as well. She's in her final year at university, pursuing a degree in literature. Her love for books and storytelling has always been a part of her, and it's no surprise to anyone who knows her that she has chosen this path. Her dream is to become a writer one day, like her mom had been, crafting novels that will transport readers to different worlds, if only for a little while.

Jake emerges from his room, his usually tousled hair neatly combed. He wears a crisp shirt and a slightly anxious expression. Y/N can't help but smile at her brother. He has grown into a responsible and kind-hearted young man, and she is proud of him for taking this step.

"You look great," Y/N says, offering a reassuring smile. "Just be yourself, and everything will go fine."

Jake nods, though his nervousness is still evident. Y/N knows how much he cares about Isla, and she is determined to make this dinner a pleasant experience for all of them.

As they hear the doorbell ring, Y/N takes a deep breath and prepares herself, sneaking a quick glance at her brother, who looks even more anxious.

"Remember," Y/N whispers to Jake, "just be genuine. Show him that you truly care about Isla, and he'll see the same good-hearted young man that I see."

Jake nods, and they both make their way to the front door. Y/N swings it open and it takes everything in her to keep her jaw from falling open. Isla and her father stand in the doorway, the latter carrying a large bouquet of flowers. But the flowers aren't what has Y/N so taken aback.

The first thing that strikes her is his striking handsomeness. He has a timeless charm about him, with a chiseled jawline, piercing green eyes, and salt-and-pepper hair that only seems to enhance his rugged appeal. His eyes scan her up and down before he offers her a smile, one that Y/N feels in her core. He couldn’t have been older than 45, and he carries himself well. He oozes wealth and success, and Y/N has to remind herself to maintain her composure.

"Hello, Mr. Styles," she manages to say, though her voice quivers slightly. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Y/N, Jake's sister."

Mr. Styles extends his hand with a warm smile. "Y/N, the pleasure is mine, but it's Harry. I insist,” he replies, his voice smooth and comforting.

As they shake hands, Y/N can't help but feel a subtle connection between them, beyond the initial surprise of his appearance. His hand is warm, and she revels in the touch before realizing she might have been holding on a bit too long. She quickly composes herself, dropping his grip as Isla introduces herself, and Y/N sends the young girl what she hopes is a welcoming smile.

As they all settle at the dinner table, Y/N tries to put her initial surprise behind her and focus on making the evening enjoyable for everyone. The conversation flows smoothly, with Jake and Isla sharing stories of their time together. Harry doesn't grill Jake like Y/N had been worried he would, but instead, he is polite and extremely well-spoken. The sleeve of his jacket slides up slightly while he speaks, gesturing with his hands, and Y/N's eyes almost roll off her head when she catches sight of the start of a sleeve of tattoos. He must have noticed her staring because Y/N suddenly feels his eyes on her, and she meets his gaze to find him wearing a slightly mischievous smirk.

"So, Y/N, we haven't heard much from you this evening. Tell me about yourself." He leans forward, taking a sip of his wine, staring at her over the top of his glass.

"Oh, um," Y/N begins, feeling the blush rise to her cheeks. She is mindful that Jake and Isla are also seated at the table, so she needs to control herself.

"I'm in my final year at university currently. I'm studying literature."

"Really? It's one of my interests as well. I used to teach it before I took over running my father's company."

"Oh, that's amazing. I'm the same way… Jake likes to joke that we're going to run out of space for all my books." Y/N laughs, and Harry joins in her laughter. Jake simply rolls his eyes, muttering to Isla about how Y/N is going to fill his room with books when he moves out.

"Y/N, I forgot to ask you about this, and Mr. Styles, I hope it's alright, but I actually managed to get Isla and me concert tickets for this evening. Would it be alright if we went? I promise we'll be back before midnight." Jake pipes up, rubbing his hands together nervously. Y/N shoots Harry a look, who simply shrugs and nods.

"As long as you're being safe, I think that should be okay. Have fun, you two. Y/N and I will clean up."

Jake and Isla quickly bid their goodbyes, with Y/N and Isla exchanging numbers, and Y/N making the younger girl promise to text her if she ever needs anything. When the door shuts behind them, Harry and Y/N are left alone, and the air in the room shifts considerably.

"So…"

"So…" Harry mimics, coaxing a small laugh from Y/N.

"You don't have to stay. I can clean up alone. I'm sure you'd rather get home." Y/N says as she starts taking the plates to the sink.

"No, I'd like to stay. Get to know you a bit more." Harry picks up the wine glasses and follows her into the kitchen. Her breath hitches as she feels him behind her, but he simply reaches over her to place the glasses in the sink before moving back to the table to grab more things.

"Are you sure? No one waiting for you at home?" The question slips out before Y/N can stop it, and she internally facepalms. Get it together, Y/N. He isn’t interested. He's older than her, by a lot. Even if he didn’t have a girlfriend, what he did have was a hell of a lot more experience.

Harry appears back in the doorway of the kitchen, holding more plates, his smirk back on his face.

"No… no one at home. Are you trying to kick me out? Got a boyfriend coming over?"

"No boyfriend. I… haven’t had much luck in that department." She turns away from him, facing the sink so he wouldn’t be able to see the blush on her cheeks.

"Really? Pretty girl like you? I would assume the boys would be falling at your feet."

She shakes her head in a silent laugh as she loads the dishwasher before pulling out two clean wine glasses, lifting one in offering.

"One more glass wouldn’t hurt. Then I’ll leave you to your evening." He takes it with a nod of thanks, opening the bottle, and Y/N moves to sit on the couch, bringing the glasses with her. He sits beside her, and Y/N forces herself to relax when she realises how close he is. She can smell his cologne now. It’s vanilla, intoxicating, and almost euphoric.

"It’s fine. I enjoy some new company once in a while. Jake is a great kid, but we do get tired of each other."

"He seems great. Isla really likes him."

"Isla’s really amazing. You’ve done a really great job with her." At this, Harry looks proud.

"I appreciate that. Raising a kid alone has been a struggle, but we’ve managed this far. I can’t believe she’s going to be 18. So, I’m curious to know more about your thoughts on some classics. I don’t know many people who take as much of an interest in books as I do. What are your favourites?

“I love this question. I've always been fascinated by the works of Russian authors. Dostoevsky, in particular, has this incredible ability to explore the depths of human psychology. 'Crime and Punishment' is a masterpiece in that regard.”

Harry nods, his gaze fixed on Y/N as if hanging on to her every word.

"I couldn't agree more. Dostoevsky's exploration of guilt, morality, and the human condition is both thought-provoking and intense. 'The Brothers Karamazov' is another one of his works that left a profound impact on me.”

"And what about contemporary literature? Are there any recent books or authors that have caught your attention?”

Y/N pauses, considering her response, swirling what is left in her glass.

"Well, I've been quite taken by the works of Kazuo Ishiguro. His ability to craft emotionally resonant narratives is truly remarkable. 'Never Let Me Go' is a haunting exploration of identity and mortality."

Harry nods again in agreement. "Ishiguro's prose is beautifully understated, and his exploration of themes like memory and love is incredibly moving. 'The Remains of the Day' is another gem. I have a really great article on some of his work. What’s your number? I’ll send you the link.” He pulls out his phone and looks at her expectantly.

Y/N rattles off the digits and her heart races when he phone dings on the table. She has his number.

There’s silence for a moment as they both drink from their glasses. Y/N can tell they’re both well aware of the tension, but Harry is better at hiding how he’s affected compared to her.

"Have you dated since Isla’s mother?" Y/N isn’t quite sure where the question comes from, but her wine glass is getting awfully low, and Harry’s presence is messing with her head. Every few seconds, her eyes wander to his lips, and Harry follows her gaze. They’re treading in dangerous waters, and they both know it, but for some reason, it’s even more exciting. Y/N shifts slightly on the couch, and her knee brushes his. Harry doesn’t flinch; he doesn’t move; he just keeps his leg where it is, maintaining the contact. She watches as he takes another sip of wine, his gaze fixed on her, his eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and desire.

"Dated is a strong term. I sleep with people when I feel the urge. I haven’t met anyone that I’ve wanted to start anything serious with. No one I wanted to… what is it your generation says? Wine and dine?" He raises his glass in Y/N’s direction, his eyes locked onto hers.

Y/N can't help but laugh at his playful tone, even as her heart races at the implications of his words.

"Yes, wine and dine. That's certainly an approach, Mr. Styles.” She hadn’t meant for the name to sound as suggestive as it did. Or maybe she did. He swallows thickly at the use of his last name, shifting in his seat.

“Well maybe I just haven’t met the woman who’s made me want to change.”

“That’s a… possibility.” He’s slightly closer to her now and his scent is overwhelming her. Her gaze flicks from his eyes back down to his lips again and this time, he calls her out on it.

“Do you need something Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I asked if you needed something. You seem rather fascinated… is there something on my face?”

“Oh! No! There’s nothing on your face it’s fine.” “Just fine?” He teases and Y/N covers her face with her hands, her head spinning slightly from the alcohol. She looks up at him again, meeting his eyes and trapping her bottom lip between her teeth. He groans, almost inaudibly.

“Stop looking at me like that Y/N or I’m going to think-” He trails off, before shaking his head and running a hand over his face. He stands, picking up his wine glass and moves towards the kitchen.

“Think what Harry?” Y/N follows him, standing in the doorway, forcing him to look at her.

“I- I think I should be going. It was lovely to meet you and Jake finally, I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

Y/N decides to play dumb. She is fully aware of what’s behind his sudden change of mood, and she knows he’s cautious. Wary. Normally she would be too, but the wine has made her bold and he’s captivating.

"Harry," Y/N says softly, taking a step closer to him."Is everything okay?”

Harry lets out a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he looks at her with a mixture of longing and frustration. "Y/N, you're making it really difficult for me to leave," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

“So don’t.” Her arms go up, around his neck and they’re close now. Close enough that Y/N can feel the warmth of his breath on her face. And then he’s leaning in.

Their lips touch for the first time and it’s electric. Harry’s hands move up her body, tangling in her hair, pulling slightly and Y/N moans into his mouth. He quickly establishes dominance in the kiss, kissing her until she’s gasping for air. He walks with her, pushing her until her back is against the wall and he’s leaning into her. Harry pulls back for a moment to breathe and Y/N pulls him closer, wanting needing him in her orbit. He sinks into her touch for a second, two, three and then he’s pulling away from her, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck.” He mutters, almost to himself and his internal turmoil is more than evident on his face.

“Harry? What’s wrong?”

“Y/N I’m almost twice your age. And this?” He gestures between them. “Can’t happen.”

“Why not? You feel it don’t you? The pull? There’s something here.” Y/N steps closer and Harry lets her.

“Of course I feel it Y/N and that’s why I know that whatever it is, we need to ignore. You’re young, and I’m well…”

“Just because I’m young, it doesn’t mean I’m immature Harry. As an adult, I’m telling you that whatever this is, I’m ok with it.”

“I can’t- I don’t… Y/N, I have to go.”

Y/N stands there speechless as Harry pushes away from her. He grabs his jacket off the couch and moves towards the door.

“Harry, let’s talk about this.”

“Thanks for dinner.” And then he’s gone, shutting the door behind him, leaving Y/N alone, incredible confused and slightly turned on.

It’s been two weeks since Y/N saw Harry at dinner and it’s been about two minutes since she last thought about him. Well to be more precise, since she last thought about the feeling of his lips on hers. If she closes her eyes, she can picture it. The warmth of his touch, the way he pushed her up against the wall…

“Y/N? Are you even listening to me?” Jake waves a hand in front of his sisters face, noting that it’s the 3rd time that she’s zoned out during the conversation.

“Oh. Sorry. What were you saying?” Y/N forces herself to pay attention.

“Isla said she’d text you but she wanted to know if you’d be cool with going over to their place to help her with an assignment for her literature class.”

“Umm… is her dad going to be there?”

“Mr Styles?” Jake raises a quizzical brow. “I don’t know… why?”

“Uh, no reason. When does she want me to come over? I’m working most of this week except tomorrow.”

“I told her that, she said tomorrow was fine. Thanks for helping her Y/N she’ll appreciate it.”

“No worries Jake.” Y/N offered a small smile but internally, she couldn’t be more stressed. The thought of seeing Harry again, especially after he left in such a rush, made her incredibly nervous. Maybe he wouldn’t be there. Hopefully he wouldn’t be home.

(4:09pm) Isla Styles: Hi Y/N! Jake told me you were happy to come over and help me tomorrow! Thank you so much! I should be home around 6pm, usually I work till 8 but I’ll ask to finish early. Dad shouldn’t be home so I’ll leave a key under the mat for you. Let yourself in at 6 if I’m not home yet and I’ll meet you there.

(4:34pm) Y/N: Hey Isla! No worries, happy to help. See you tomorrow :)

6pm rolls around and Y/N finds herself standing in front of the house… well mansion Isla had given her the address for. There are no cars in the driveway so Y/N assumes Isla is running late. But just in case, she knocks. And she waits. There’s no sound from inside the house so Y/N fumbles under the mat for the key and slides it in the lock. She’s aware she’s alone in the house but she still tiptoes inside quietly. The ceilings are high, and there is a large statement staircase in the middle of the entrance. Floor to ceiling windows are in excess and Y/N stands quietly in awe for a few moments. It’s modern, and clean and everything Y/N would want in a house. She finds the living room easily, deciding to set up the few things she brought to help Isla with her assignment on the dining table.

(6:09pm) Isla Styles: I’m on my way! 15 minutes, I swear! Make yourself at home x

Y/N is opening her laptop when she hears a noise. A noise that sounds a lot like a moan. And then it happens again. It’s faint, muffled due to where she is in the house, so she moves from the dining table to the bottom of the staircase.

“Fuck Harry. Right there, oh my GOD!” The woman’s voice is high pitched, her moans increasing in volume as Harry, from what Y/N can gather, fucks the shit out of her.

“You like that baby? Gonna come for me? You feel so good. Fuck Y/N.”

Y/N stills at the sound of her name, not waiting to hear the other woman’s response before scrambling back to the kitchen. Did he just…? Surely not.

10 minutes passes and Y/N hears heels click clacking down the stairs. From where she sits, she gets a glimpse of a woman in a short blue dress, who lets herself out without another sound.

At least they’re done, Y/N thinks to herself.

She’s scrolling mindlessly on her phone, willing Isla to appear, when she hears footsteps. She didn’t hear the front door open again which means…

Harry appears in front of her, with only a pair of boxers on, making his way to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. He hasn’t noticed her yet and Y/N doesn’t really know how to handle it. But as usual, her mouth speaks before her brain catches up.

“Do you usually call the women you’re hooking up with my name? Or is that just a more recent thing?”

He jumps, spilling a bit of water down his chest, as he realises who is sitting at his dining room table.

“Y/N what the fuck are you doing in my house?”

“Hello to you too. Isla wanted help with an assignment. She’s late, so she told me to let myself in. She also told me you wouldn’t be home. But obviously you are… and someone else is too it seems.” She smirks at how uncomfortable he seems as she makes her way over to him.

“Isla isn’t home till after 8 on Saturdays.” Is all he can think of to say.

“Mmm. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m not discussing my sex life with you Y/N. I told you, nothing is going to happen between us.” But even so, he steps closer.

“Ok, but if you’re calling other women my name, you must want it to. And I want it to. So that makes us two consenting adults. I don’t think I can stay away from you, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes shut as he inhales the smell of Y/N’s perfume, the intoxicating scent taking him back to the night a few weeks before. This time Y/N is the one to lean in, attaching her lips to his. She’s mindful that he was fucking someone else just moments before but in the moment she can’t bring herself to care. She can feel the moment that Harry gives in, caging her in against the kitchen counter, devouring her mouth with his. Y/N runs her fingers down his chest, revelling in the chance she gets to touch and feel. His skin is smooth and his curls are soft. She finds the harder she pulls, the more insatiable he becomes.

“Y/N? Are you here?” Isla’s voice rings out from the foyer and both Harry and Y/N freeze, pulling away from each other.

“Get out of here… when she sees you without any fucking clothes on she’s going to ask questions.” Y/N pushes on his bare chest and Harry quickly moves up the back stairs up to his room, but not before pressing a small peck to her lips again.

“I’m so sorry I’m a bit late! Are you ready to get started?” Isla chirps, completely oblivious as to what was happening just moments before.

Y/N nods, and starts to show Isla some of the books she brought when her phone dings. Once, twice, then three times.

“Someone’s popular!” Isla jokes. Y/N offers her a small smile as she flips her phone over.

(6:31pm) Harry: You’re right.

(6:31pm) Harry: I don’t think I can stay away from you either.

(6:31pm) Harry: Let me take you out for dinner. Let’s talk.

Y/N glances nervously over at Isla, who seems engrossed in her reading material.

(6:33pm) Y/N: Ok. We’ll talk.

A/N: Hi!!! Thank you for reading, I am SO excited for this series to begin. What do we think of our characters so far...? Reblogs and Feedback are always appreciated 💋

Tags:

@lukesaprince @harryspirate @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @lilyrmason12 @styleslover-1994 @stylesfever @kathb59 @indierockgirrl @bxbyysstuff @gills-lounge @lomlhstyles @opheliaofficial07 @behindmygreyeyes @gem1712 @stylesmoonlight12 @babyiamperfectforyou @velvetballaspark @harrys-flower @macy-tpwk @mema10 @intimacywithceline @jerseygirlinca @daphnesutton @rafaaoli

#harry styles #hslot #love on tour #harrystyles #harry styles au #harry styles fics #harry styles fic #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles ceo #harry styles smut #harry styles age gap #harry styles older #older!harry #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry edward styles

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luvrhischier · 9 months

Note

hi! can you do a friends with benefits with trevor, where you’re out with friends and dancing with some random dude and he gets jealous and admits he has feelings for you, and obviously you (we) do too! 🤭

jealousy, jealousy // trevor zegras

pairing: trevor zegras × reader

word count: 2.4k

a/n: strayed from the request (only the tiniest bit), another one that jumps between povs

a/n 2: feel like it’s similar to my other fics but it was requested so

warnings: alcohol/drinking

(you)

Yesterday’s game had been rough. A few unfair calls, more fights than usual, and a lost at the end. Trevor said he needed to go blow off some steam so him, Jamie, and a couple of the other guys were going out. Trevor always invited you out with him, even when he wasn’t really supposed to.

The two of you were laying in your bed. Both naked from the activities that had taken place only minutes ago. No, the two of you weren’t together, you were just best friends and roommates who occasionally hooked up and maybe you felt something more but you’d never never be the first to admit that.

When he asked you to go with him he had to beg you to come, you told him you had some assignments to catch up on but he gave you those stupid puppy dog eyes and pout and you instantly caved.

That’s how you found yourself getting ready to go out. When you went out partying you always loved to get dressed up, it was fun and made you feel amazing. As you looked through your dresses you found the one you had recently bought. It was a little tighter than your other dresses and a lot shorter. This was the perfect opportunity to break it in.

From the bathroom, where you were doing your hair and makeup, you heard Jamie and Trevor walk into your room and fall onto your bed. Nobody said anything, there was just a comfortable silence.

“The Uber is gonna be here in 5,” Trevor finally broke the silence. You made one last finishing touch before walking out of the bathroom. You still didn’t say anything to either of them, and they were too lost in their phones to notice you. You walked to look at your shoe options. You couldn’t decide.

“Guys, which one? These or these?” You faced them and held up two different pairs of heels. For the first time since they had walked into your room they looked at you. Both of their jaws dropped. Jamie quickly closed his mouth then looked at Trevor with a smirk.

“That’s new,” Trevor stuttered. You smiled, surprised that he noticed.

“Yes it is. Do you like it?” You asked, doing a spin to show the whole dress. Trevor just quickly nodded his head. “Now, which pair?” You asked again.

Jamie finally looked back at you and at the shoe options. Trevor was too busy checking you out to help. Thankfully, Jamie wasn’t. With a nod you put on the one he chose. Right on time the Uber driver said they were here.

You sat with Jamie on your left and Trevor on your right. Jamie and you were the only two talking. Trevor was silent, he just stared out the window. You placed your hand on his thigh and felt him tense up making you quickly pull your hand away.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked, genuinely confused as to what was wrong.

“No, not at all,” he said with a forced smile. You weren’t really convinced but you let it go. You nodded before going back to your conversation with Jamie.

When you finally arrived at the club you all got out and Trevor paid and thanked the driver before turning to you and Jamie. He walked to the door, still not really acknowledging you. You looked over at Jamie and he just shook his head and rolled his eyes. You sighed before following.

They led you to where the rest of the group was. After greeting each other you made conversation with some of the girls, from the corner of your eye you could see Trevor trying to act like you weren’t there. You needed a drink. You turned to Jamie.

“I’ll be back.” You walked away after he nodded his head. When you made it to the bar you smiled at the bartender.

“Hey, what can I get you?” He asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” you laughed as you looked at the little laminated menu. He chuckled back and leaned forward on the bar.

“This one is really good if you’re looking for something sweet.” He pointed. “And this one is really good if you’re looking for something strong.”

“Surprise me,” you smiled as you looked up at him. Your faces close but neither of you pulled away.

“One surprise coming right up,” he smiled, finally leaning back to make your drink.

You watched in awe as he made your drink. You felt your cheeks heat up as you two playfully bantered. When he was done he placed it in front of you.

“What’s in it?” You asked as you looked at the drink in front of you.

“You sat here and watched me make it,” he laughed.

“Yeah well I was a little distracted,” you blushed. He just smirked and looked at the drink.

“Just try it.” He leaned forward on the counter, not as close as before but still close enough that you could see that he had freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose.

“You went with sweet,” you said after you took a sip.

“Seemed appropriate.” He winked.

“Now,” you paused and looked at his name tag, “Andrew do you flirt with all of your customers?” You joked as you took another sip.

“Only the cute ones,” his face scrunched up. “God that was so fucking cheesy I hated that.”

You laughed.

(him)

“Guys, which one? These or these?” He heard you ask.

When he looked up and saw you in that dress he felt the air being knocked out of him. His jaw dropped. From the corner of his eye he could see Jamie’s do the same before he quickly composed himself and looked over at him. He could see the smirk on his face and he wanted to punch him.

“That’s new,” he stuttered. He knew every single one of your dresses by memory and this one he had never seen, and it wasn’t like any of your others. This one was shorter and tighter.

“Yes it is. Do you like it?” You asked sweetly as you spun around. He couldn’t say words, he could only nod. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep his feelings a secret. He was only broken from his trance when he heard his phone alert them that the Uber had arrived.

You sat to his left and he couldn’t look at you. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, he wanted to more than anything he just knew that if he did he’d break. He chose to stare out the window instead.

He felt you place your hand on his thigh. It was simple and innocent but still he tensed. You quickly pulled away.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked

“No, not at all,” he forced a smile. He hated that he was making you think he was mad but he didn’t know what else to do. You just nodded and turned back to Jamie. He knew this night was going to be difficult and he didn’t know if he was ready for it.

When you all arrived at the club everyone got out as he quickly paid and said thank you. When he turned he just looked straight ahead and walked in, maybe if he ignored you he’d be able to ignore the growing feelings inside of him.

Quickly he greeted everyone before grabbing one of the unopened beers on the table. He didn’t look at you, even when he could see you looking at him. Finally, he saw you walk away and he felt like he could breathe again. He looked over at Jamie and Jamie rolled his eyes before pulling him over.

“Are you gonna sit here and ignore her all night?” He asked.

“I’m not ignoring her,” he lied and Jamie only scoffed

“Are you gonna stop being a pussy and tell her how you actually feel?” He looked over at you before turning back quickly.

“Dude I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about how you’re in love with her and have been for awhile now,” he casually responded.

“What are you talking about? Me in love with her?! No!” His tried to play it cool but he failed, tremendously.

“Okay so if I told you that she’s over there flirting with the bartender you wouldn’t care right?”

He quickly snapped his head to the bar so hard that it hurt but he didn’t care. He saw as the bartender handed you a drink before laughing at something you said. Was that a smirk on his lips? Why was he leaning in? Why was he winking at you? What did he say that could have made you laugh like that? He didn’t like any of that at all.

He turned his head back around and felt his body heat up.

“Nope I don’t care. She’s just a friend,” he lied once again.

“You’re so full of shit,” Jamie scoffed. “Can you please just put us all out of our misery and just admit it so we can end this whole pining situation?” Trevor needed to go clear his head.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” he muttered. He set his beer down and for the first time he realized just how tight he had been gripping it. He made sure to not look if your direction as he passed by.

(you)

You honestly didn’t know how long you had sat here talking, but you didn’t mind. You were enjoying his company. The only pauses in your conversation was when Andrew had to go help another customer.

“Would it be completely inappropriate to give you my number?” Andrew asked when he returned.

“No, it wouldn’t.” You watched as he searched for a pen and grabbed an unused napkin. Quickly he wrote his number down before handing it over. You looked it over before setting it back down, hoping not to lose it. Before you could continue the conversation you felt someone walk up right next to you. You looked up and saw Trevor. You rolled your eyes before looking back at Andrew.

“What can I get you man?” Andrew asked politely. Trevor didn’t say anything he just looked down at the napkin with a phone number on it. He picked it up before turning it over to clean up a small spill.

“What the fuck?” You gasped. When he turned the napkin back around and saw that the number was smudged and illegible he smiled.

“Yeah, can I just get another beer,” Trevor looked up at Andrew, who also couldn’t believe what just happened.

“There is plenty extra ones at the table so go get one of those,” you said through gritted teeth.

“I don’t want any of those,” he shrugged simply. He had no right to be acting like this. You hopped off the stool.

“Andrew I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I’ll be right back.” You grabbed Trevor’s wrist.

“I wouldn’t count on it Andrew,” Trevor said. You tugged him harder. When you made it outside you were glad the streets were almost empty. You dropped his wrist harshly before turning towards him with your arms crossed.

“What the hell was that?!” You asked annoyed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said like a child. You scoffed in disbelief.

“Yes you do. I was having a good time with Andrew and you walked over and ruined that.” He rolled his eyes when you said Andrew’s name.

“Oops.”

“If you’re going to act like a child fine whatever I don’t care just leave me alone.” You walked past him to go back inside.

“He’s not good for you,” he said loudly.

“You have no right to say that. You didn’t even properly talk to him. You acted like a dick.” You turned back around. “First you ignore me in the car and then you ignore me inside and when I finally start having a little fun and I’m really getting along with someone you come over and interrupt!”

“I couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t what?! Acknowledge me? Let me have some fun? Last time I checked Trevor we weren’t exclusive.”

“Yeah you don’t have to remind me,” he whispered hoping you didn’t hear, but you did. That’s when it hit you. You smirked and Trevor rolled his eyes. “What?”

“You know I always knew you were the jealous type.” You stepped closer to him. He gulped.

“Me jealous?! I’m not jealous,” he stuttered.

“Oh so if I went back in there and got Andrew’s number again you wouldn’t care right?” You pointed behind you and took a few step backwards.

“Nope,” he squeaked.

“Okay cool I’ll be right back.” You turned but before you could even take one step he stopped you.

“Please don’t,” he pleaded. You turned to him.

“Why not?”

“Please don’t make me say it,” he whined.

“Say it,” you needed to hear the words come from his mouth.

“You know I’m not good at this stuff.”

“I need to hear you tell me why you don’t want me to go back in there. I need to hear you say it so I know it’s real.” You walked up to him. You grabbed his hand and you felt him relax.

“I don’t want you to go back in there because I don’t want you to flirt or go out anyone else,” he paused and looked you in the eyes. “I don’t want because I want us to be together. I love you, way more than a friend,” his voice was low but you could tell he meant every word he was saying. He closed his eyes, not know how you’d react to his confession, preparing himself for the worst.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say those words,” you smiled softly. His eyes shot open.

“If this is some sick joke it’s not funny,” he said in disbelief.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” He looked at your face and saw nothing but adoration. He let out a sigh. “This is the part where you kiss me,” you joked. Trevor wasted no time. His lips were on yours in a heartbeat. Both of you smiled into the kiss. Finally you both pulled away.

“Can we please go home because if we go back in there I might end up punching Andrew in the face,” he said as he placed his forehead against yours. You giggled, knowing he was only slightly joking.

#trevor zegras #tz11 #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras fic #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl blurb #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale x reader #trevor zegras smut

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the-witty-pen-name · 2 months

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Love is Blind (Part 1)

Eddie Munson x PlusSize!F!Reader

Summary: In a last ditch effort to evade the normal disappointments of dating, a group of misfits desperate to have someone see who they are on the inside volunteer for the most recent brain chemistry study at Hawkins Lab.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Reader has low self-esteem and struggles with self love/acceptance, anxiety/trauma related to bullying, tooth rot worthy fluff, Eddie being a major flirt, cursing, mentions of substance use, brief descriptions of masturbation, smut in later parts

A/N: I got this idea from watching the newest season of Love is Blind and getting genuinely annoyed that the show still doesn’t have a more size inclusive dating pool. I feel like the show could be so much more. There are many subjects the show could be featuring that it just doesn’t. Anyways, this is incredibly self-indulgent, Eddie Munson loves plus size women and I refuse to accept otherwise. Enjoy!

Please consider reblogging/commenting if you like it!

Day One:

Eddie’s palms are sweaty, and he nervously wipes his hands on his jeans repeatedly. He bounces his leg, twisting the rings on his fingers. Fuck, what the hell is he even doing here? He’s sitting on a couch, facing a blank wall, and he’s absolutely scared shitless that he’s finally doing this. Hell, if it bombs, he gets some cash for participating. Whatever, it’s not like he actually believes in this shit.

He’s up and pacing the room when he finally hears a door on the other side of the wall open and close. He literally jumps over from the back of the couch to get back in his seat. He can hear the faint patter of someone walking. Then it stops, he assumes the person on the other side has taken a seat.

“This is so weird,” the voice from the other side of the wall says, and Eddie feels immediately at ease. He chuckles, shaking his head, standing up to walk the pent up energy out.

“Batshit,” Eddie exclaims in agreement. “I don’t know what I’m even doing here.”

“I’m here for the $200,” the voice jokes. “But that’s just me.”

He’s instantly relaxed, and suddenly, it doesn’t feel like he’s sitting alone in a drafty room on a lumpy couch. He’s intrigued, and ready to play the game. At least, he’s open to this first conversation. He feels a little better knowing that he’s not alone. He sits down finally, rubbing his hands still.

“I’m here,” he begins, allowing himself to be a little vulnerable, “because I am sick of the way people look at me.”

“Fuck, amen to that,” the voice responds with a clap, and the reaction makes Eddie grin from ear to ear. “Guys are so shallow, no offense.” He laughs.

“I’m not usually this outgoing,” the voice shares, sounding a little more reserved, “There’s something about you not looking at me that's making me a little more brave.” Eddie thinks this girl sounds so incredibly sweet. He’s never been attracted to someone’s voice, but he’s feeling himself being pulled in. It’s gentle, and kind and not deserving of whatever the world did to you to lead you here.

“Well, I’m used to being the spectacle,” Eddie sighs, leaning back into the couch, slumping down. “I can’t help it,” he exhales, “I mean, people think the worst of me no matter what I do, so like, fuck it. I’m gonna have fun with it.”

“Is that all of it?” the voice asks, knowingly. Eddie scoffs at the perception. Is he that obvious?

“No,” he cringes, and he hears a giggle from the other side of the wall. It helps him feel more comfortable. “Um honestly,” he continues, a little shy, “Part of me keeps the act up cause if people are watching me, I’m not alone. I’d rather be the laughing stock than have no one acknowledge me at all.”

“I’m the opposite,” the voice shares, “I’d so much rather be out of sight out of mind.”

“Doesn’t that get lonely?” he asks softly.

“In my experience,” the voice continues, “it has always felt like people keep me around so they feel better about themselves. I know that’s not true- I know my friends love me. I just- being by myself is my comfort zone. I don’t need to worry about how I’m like being perceived. Or if, like, I'm being judged.”

Eddie nods understandingly, until he remembers you can’t see him.

“I get it,” he says, trying to be comforting. “I, uh, yeah.. People don’t like… they don’t like understand what it feels like when you just feel simultaneously so small and like you take up too much space- and how they’re the ones that make you feel that way.”

“Wow- I’ve never heard it put into words so well before. That’s just been my life, you know?”

“We’re really getting deep huh?” he jokes, chest swelling with pride when he hears the laugh.

“I really like your voice,” the voice admits, and Eddie feels his face heat and he’s sure his face is flushed red from the compliment. His ego has been very much stroked at this point, and he takes the opportunity to fully embrace this whole flirting thing. If he can at least leave this experiment making someone feel good, then he won’t consider this a waste of time.

“Well, I really like your voice,” he quips. “Actually, uh- I’ve been sitting over here, on a really shitty couch. And I was asking myself what the hell was I doing here? I am probably the worst person for this experiment- I don’t think I could take this seriously. Then, I heard your voice- and I instantly felt attracted to you- if you can believe it. Now, I’m over here, your voice bringing out thing I would never fucking say out loud. I’m pacing around, you’ve made a mess of me.”

It feels like only a short period of time goes by, but in actuality, Eddie and his mystery date get wrapped up in talking for over three hours. He talks to her about music, his favorite books, his Uncle Wayne… sharing more about himself to a total stranger than he’d ever volunteer to even his close friends. You swap childhood stories, commiserate over bullies, and before he knows it, he thinks you might know him better than anyone.

A timer buzzes and it’s time for Eddie to move on to his next first “date.” As the door opens and one of the technicians is ready to escort him to the next room. He desperately stares at the wall before he moves, hoping to hear the voice one more time.

“Please, if you’re still there,” he says standing up, “I want to talk with you again tomorrow.” He knocks on the wall, rings tapping. He receives a knock back, and he grins devilishly,

“It’s a date.”

The technician taps his shoulder and he nods, letting them lead him out to the next room. He wraps an arm around the mousy guy as he jots down something on his clipboard. “I have a date tomorrow,” Eddie beams, looking back at the blank wall like he’s looking back to get another glance at you.

Day Two:

You still tug anxiously at your shirt, making sure it’s not clinging to your belly. Even though none of your dates can see you, you can’t shake the self conscious feeling. Yesterday was draining, all of the dates you had fell so short after that first one. Nothing came as easy to you as that first one, and you’re hoping you’ll get to talk to him soon.

You take a sip of your water, and opt to move from the couch to the floor. You sit criss-crossed and stare at the wall in front of you. You really focus on your breathing and try to let yourself open up. You’re here because you’re hoping to find someone who likes you for you- but no matter what, you’re still incredibly anxious thinking about the big reveal. No matter how well the conversations go, you worry it will be null and void once they see you’re plus size.

“Please, please, please for the love of God that this is finally you?” you hear a familiar voice whine, and you can’t contain your smile. “Pretty girl, c’mon talk to me.”

“You don’t know what I look like,” you scoff, but still, you feel yourself still melting like putty.

“Fuck, finally,” mystery boy sighs, and you hear him collapse on the couch. You can only assume his set-up is the same as yours. “Baby, I have been dying to hear your voice again.”

“This experiment not working out for you?” you ask, sympathetically. You find it hard to believe he’s not chatting up everyone else and hitting on them the same way he does with you. It’s the only explanation. You can’t let yourself believe he genuinely feels differently towards you.

“No this sucks,” he says, and then you hear him blow a raspberry. You can’t help it but laugh in agreement. “I just want to talk to you.” He sounds so vulnerable, and you actually find yourself believing him.

“Again,” you retort, rolling your eyes, “You don’t really know anything about me.”

“I want to,” he sounds so sincere, and it makes your heart swell. “You are the least boring person here.”

“I’m touched,” you reply sarcastically, and you feel good hearing that you made him laugh.

“I wish I could take you out,” he says and he sounds closer, like he’s sitting up against the wall. “I’ve got like no fucking money,” he laughs.

“I hate going out,” you reassure him, “I want to just hangout with you.”

“No, no, no,” he says dramatically, “No safe zone. You deserve to go out and be shown off. I am not gonna lock you away from the world, I’m gonna show you off.”

“And how are you gonna do that?” You quip, letting yourself slip into a little bit of a fantasy. You let yourself feel wanted and feel desirable even if it’s contained to this room.

“Well, not to be like that guy,” he’s suddenly sounding a little shy and you find it very endearing. “But like, I’d want to bring you to one of my band’s shows. Like- don’t get me wrong, we play at like really shitty bars that take way too long to drive to. And we don’t even make back the money the gas costs to get there, but like, I really like it and um, that’s uh when I feel I’m at my best, and I’d want you to see that side of me.”

“So what does bringing girls to a show look like for you?” you ask nervously, feeling a little twinge of jealousy that he may have done this before with someone else.

“Sweetheart,” he chuckles, “if I was capable of getting girls out in the wild do you think I would’ve signed up for this?” You laugh a little. “Trust me,” he further explains, “This is not something I never imagined I could do before talking to you.”

“Okay, okay, I take it back,” you reply, and you're sure he can hear your smile through the wall. “Let me rephrase,” you say, taking a deep breath, “What does bringing me to a show look like?”

“Well,” he exhales, “I’d pick you up, in my really nice and not sketchy at all van that doesn’t make any questionable noises. I usually drive the guys too but honestly, fuck them, I want us to have time together. I don’t mind telling them to pound sand. And don’t feel bad for them, they’re also kind of assholes.”

You can’t help but giggle, noticing he tends to have that effect on you. He makes you nervous in a really good way, and you try hard to fight it, but you worry that it’s no use. As much as you find yourself really enjoying mystery boy’s company, you can’t help but let that fear creep in that all of this will go away if he ever sees you.

“But anyways,” he continues, “I’ll admit it, I’m a little bit of a show off. And I know if you were there watching me, I’d just like be putting my all into it. I would really try hard to impress you. I’d also want the pricks there to know you’re with me so no one bothers you, so as much as I know you’d hate it, I would point you out and tell the whole place you’re there with me.”

Your face is so warm, and you can’t hold back the cheesy smile that has expanded across your whole face. You can’t believe a guy would be genuinely that proud to have you there with him. You really do think that he’s being genuine, and it makes your heart soar.

“I’m really surprised you don’t have girls fawning over you, rockstar,” you smile, wanting to make him feel special too. Even if this crashes and burns, you can tell he’s a sweet guy. You can see that maybe he’ll let you down gently. You don’t know why your insecurities hold you down this much. You, more than anyone, get in the way of your own happiness. You’re determined to not let it affect you this deeply. You resolve to let yourself see how this goes, and to throw yourself into it- willing to get hurt.

“Trust me,” he scoffs, “I am not what you’re thinking I am. I’m not like that guy, I’m more awkward than anything. I think girls are more interested in the football star guys, the future suits, you know? Guys with a haircut and go to college- They don’t want to waste their time with a going nowhere punk.”

“I really don’t think that’s true,” you speculate, “There’s no one with a poster of Jack Welch on their wall- but every girl I know has a picture of Eddie VanHalen.”

“Is there like a peephole in here or something?” He says jokingly, knocking on the wall, like he’s looking for one. “Or are you just a psychic or something?”

“What are you even talking about?” You chuckle, raising an eyebrow, confused. You shake your head, but before you can’t get clarification, the buzzer sounds, marking the end of your time with him for today.

“NOOO,” you hear him dramatically exhale. A muffled voice, your assuming is one of the lab techs must be exhausted.

You press your hand to the wall, as your form of an intimate goodbye as the technician holds the door open for you. You get up from your spot and head out, excited to come back tomorrow for another round of dates.

Leaving Hawkins Lab, each test subject needs to stagger there exits as to not risk accidentally seeing the other candidates. You are in a small waiting room, doing your daily exit interview with one of the neuroscientists.

***

Under the agreement you signed when you volunteered for the experiment, you are not permitted to go to any locations where people socialize and congregate. You’re not permitted to go anywhere where you may accidentally see or meet one of the other subjects. You are required to only go out on necessary errands such as grocery shopping or appointments.

On the drive back to your apartment, your mind keeps overplaying the worst case scenarios your anxiety keeps conjuring. You know the whole point of the experiment is to see if love, or whatever trumps physical attraction. If hypothetically, someone does fall in love with you- your appearance shouldn’t be a factor. However, it’s not wrong for you to want your partner to be attracted to you. And you acknowledge physical attraction is a thing and if you aren’t someone’s type that isn’t bad either. Your past experiences and unresolved childhood traumas surrounding your appearance and self-esteem, makes it difficult to allow yourself to see that you are actually desirable.

Although unknown to you, a lot of people in this experiment feel the exact same way. Not fitting into the box society wants to slot them in has made dating incredibly difficult for many. There’s a comfort knowing everyone there supposedly wants the same thing as you, just to be loved. You weren’t sure going in that you would even make connections with anyone. At first, it felt like low stakes- worst case scenario you walk away no better off than before. But, you didn’t anticipate actually hitting it off with someone like you have, and it’s opened a whole new set of fears.

***

At his trailer, Eddie just stares up at the vent in the ceiling above his bed. He blows out another puff of smoke and watches as it swirls and wafts up into the air around him. His thoughts are consumed entirely with you. He watches how the smoke from his blunt mixes with the smoke of his burning incense and his mind drifts, just completely fixated on how the minutes on the clock tick by until he can talk to you again.

He wonders if you’re thinking about him, the same way he’s thinking about you. He wonders if you’re trying to picture what he looks like the same way he’s making guesses about you. He thinks about if you smoke, and he imagines what it’d be like if he was sharing this with you. Thinking about what it would look like, your lips around the joint, blowing out smoke from what he imagines is just a sexy mouth. He can’t help but close his eyes and let a little frustrated groan escape at the thought.

He can’t picture the entirety of you, but more so he can imagine just your presence in his room. He imagines the feeling of someone laying beside him, smooth skin he can run his hands across, the warmth radiating off of another body in his bed. He has your voice in his head, wishing you were talking to him now.

With his eyes closed, joint put aside on his ashtray, he imagines it’s your hands tugging down his jeans, and it’s your hand wrapping around his hard cock that’s staining the band of his boxers now. He thinks about your laugh, and that adorable giggle of yours, and how much he can bask in the fact that it’s him who elicits those reactions from you. He thinks about the sweet voice, the flirty fluctuations of your tone when you warmed up to him. He imagines you using that same voice to tease him if you were here, seeing just how much of a mess you’ve made of him.

He’s never been able to get off without some kind of visual aid, so to speak, before. Now, he’s practically whimpering just thinking about the sound of your voice and thinking about your hands on him. He thinks about the feeling of your hands working his length up and down. He imagines how playful it would be, rolling around on this bed with you as the layers you're both wearing come off. He doesn’t even need to try to think about what you look like to feel aroused by you. He doesn’t even care in the slightest at this moment.

He’s so needy, twitching as he feels himself get closer, and he thinks about what you would be whispering in his ear to get him to finish. He imagines the praise, and the way you would be begging for his cum. He realizes he doesn’t even know your name, as he’s hit with the urge to call it out.

“Fuck, pretty girl,” he moans instead, working himself up to his release. He keeps moaning out his little nickname for you until he’s made a mess of his shirt and he’s gasping to catch his breath as his orgasm extracted all the energy from his body.

Tomorrow, he resolves, he needs to learn your name.

PART TWO

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x plus size!reader #eddie munson x plus size!reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fan fic #eddie munson stranger things #plussize!reader #eddie munsons x F!reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn characters #joseph quinn stranger things #joseph quinn eddie munson #smut #mutal pining #eddie munson series

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 8 months

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i wear my shame like tar in a vacant town square, spitting out feathers like blood; you touch my hand and ask if i'm ready to go home.

cc22 x reader: the two of you never go out of style (ft. best friend ax72).

(warnings: longest story yet (12.5k, get comfortable), obviously blasphemous filth (i'm getting back in the swing of it, i think), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), oral sex (f on m), choking and hair pulling and oral fixation and all of my usual nonsense (this one is a little touchy, don't ask me why), bodily fluids (you guys know the drill), depiction of self-doubt and burnout and failure and general unhappiness (you always get a happy ending, though! because you deserve a happy ending), don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.) gif is not mine.)

(a/n: favorites! this story poured out of me over the course of the last couple of weeks, all thanks to one of my friends who showed me a picture of cc22 on pinterest (thank you, country music festival season. you will be missed). and here we are! with many creative liberties taken, you have yourself a story with my typical mythical and religious imagery, way too much description, dialogue that no one would say, and plot holes the size of canyons. but you guys keep indulging me anyways, and i love you and thank you for that. you're a stylist in this one! (something fun and different, i think). as for takeways - too often we get caught up in what we think we should have accomplished by now, what we think others expect from us, how terribly we must be letting them down. deep breath and let it go, favorites. all you can do is show up, over and over again. that will always be enough. you will always be enough. enjoy this piece of my heart until inspiration next strikes and please tell me what you think. go canucks (under el capitano hughes, even! that c on his jersey stands for chokes out his girl). my snakes say hi to your snakes. love and gentleness and strength to you, always always always.)

the first car ride to your new client's house was stressful, to say the least. and that wasn't even with arber's haphazard driving style taken into account.

"jesus," you bit out from the passenger seat, "i'd prefer to be alive for this meeting, bear."

"relax," he said, taking a right. you didn't have to be looking at him to know he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "and stop with the fidgeting. this isn't an interview. you're already hired."

you dropped your hands to your sides, stopped twisting your rings around your fingers as he had requested.

you exhaled a deep breath. he was right, after all. you already had the job. that honestly wasn't what you were worried about. you were worried about styling someone who wasn't arber. that was entirely new territory.

after all, you had known arber practically your entire life. he had been your best friend, your first boyfriend, then your best friend again. he was the number one person in your life, the person you felt most comfortable with.

you had been the first person he hugged after his family when he signed with the habs, the person who he called to pick him up after a night out, the one who he asked for help when he was texting a new girl.

so, when he had asked you to be his full-time stylist, you had dropped everything, said yes immediately.

to be fair, though, you hadn't had to drop much. you knew he had asked you partially to be kind, as the offer came during the worst period of your life. freshly dropped out of school, cheated on and broken up with, without a purpose or direction in sight, arber had been the one to extend a hand, offer you a new dream like it was nothing but a jacket in the cold.

and it was your dream, genuinely. you had been studying at school to be a fashion journalist, aspiring to work in new york one day, have an office in a skyscraper, read your pieces in the print of a glossy magazine.

but things change. things fall apart. and things get glued back together again like china teacups.

you were so, so grateful, though. you loved your job. you loved bringing out the best in arber, you loved discovering new sides of the fashion industry, you loved the travel and the events and the fact that your best friend was your employer.

sometimes though, you couldn't help but feel like you were missing something, like your heavenly wings had been sawed off, leaving only dissipated potential and thick blood running down your back. and the weight. oh, how you felt the weight of your wings even though they were gone, stolen.

you felt the weight now, as arber pulled you both into the driveway, parked, turned to you. "deep breath, okay?"

you obeyed, your exhale coming out a little shaky. he put a warm hand on your shoulder, squeezed. "ready to expand your business?"

you gave him a smile, a genuine one. he had always referred to this whole agreement as your business, even though it was entirely his idea.

you nodded, to which he smiled. you both got out of the car and walked to the door. arber rang the doorbell as you straightened out the legs of your pants, even though you had pressed them this morning.

not a big deal, you thought to yourself. just adding another client. just adding another client, that's all, nothing serious.

you knew you were wrong as soon as the door opened.

your new client stood in the doorframe, much shorter than arber and maybe an inch taller than you. he looked like the human embodiment of stability, in all senses of the word. he was broad, so strong looking, you knew it must be impossible to knock him over. but his kind eyes, his warm energy, he just looked so stable. so happy, so secure.

and his smile. what other way was there to take that smile, if not serious as death?

you blinked. arber slapped you on the back, made you cough. had someone been talking?

"this is cole," arber said, shooting you a look that said dial in. he gave cole your name.

you cleared your throat and extended your hand, smiled softly. "pleasure to meet you, cole," you said. "'m excited to start working with you."

you were hit, then, with the full force of his gaze, the entirety of his gorgeous smile. "'d bet you i'm more excited, love," he said, so laidback, enveloping your outstretched hand in his, giving you a first shake.

"easy," arber warned his teammate with a look, referring to the obviously flirtatious tone cole had adopted. cole just smiled.

his palm was rough with wear, with work, and warm with promise. your hand felt heavy in his. you felt like your body might let out a comical sigh of relief at the perfect easiness of his touch.

at that realization, you dropped your hand, brushed your palm on your jeans. you didn't see his eyes follow the movement, nor did you see his jaw work for only a moment.

"i'll leave you to it, then," arber said, clapping his hand in cole's in goodbye. he had told you he would introduce you, but you knew he had things to do, and now the actual work had to begin. your work. surely, you could expand your circle, just a bit, right? make some room?

"thanks again for sharing," cole said to your best friend.

"be good to each other," arber warned like a chastising parent, moving a pointed finger between the two of you.

"if you're anything like wifi," cole said to you, "don't think that'll be hard."

arber shook his head. "oh, she's much better than me," he said, and you knew he believed it, which made you feel those phantom scars on your back. not even close, you thought.

you rolled your eyes, his antics bringing a smile out of you regardless. "sure," you said. "i'll see you tomorrow, bear."

the corner of cole's full mouth ticked up at your nickname for his teammate. he stepped back and held open the door to his house. "after you, love," he said, gentle as anything.

you bowed your head slightly in thanks, partially to hide the flush that now bloomed on your cheeks at the prospect of being alone with cole.

"i hope arber told you that you can trust me, and stuff," cole said, rubbing the back of his neck as you both walked through the entryway. "i know this is kind of out of the blue, and all that, but apparently, i really need your help, so-"

you bit back a grin. "apparently?"

he tilted his head, sucked on his teeth, gave you a guilty sort of smile. "alright," he started, "i didn't think i needed any help in the fashion department." he pulled out a stool at his kitchen countertop for you before walking around to the fridge, beginning to pour two glasses of water.

"did you?" you asked to his back as he faced away. his back that rippled under his t-shirt. which you definitely didn't notice.

there was a goofy, fake accusative look on his face as he turned back to you, placing one water in front of you. "what are you implying?"

you reached across the counter to grab two coasters and set them in front of you both, thanking him. "nothing," you teased, "except that i've seen your instagram, and maybe that my presence here wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."

he squinted for a moment, maybe confused, as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter. "well, we agree on that, then," he replied.

a pause that felt like caramel settled between you two for a moment as you held each other's gazes. his, comfortable, and yours, curious.

you cleared your throat, brought up a hand to rub at your shoulder. "so, apart from thinking you don't need a stylist, what else do i need to know?"

"i don't know," he started. his forearms flexed, making the veins in his arms more prominent. "i like hats on gamedays?"

a grin broke across your face like sunlight. you let out a laugh. "yeah?"

"what?" he asked, fake offended again, but his smile was nothing but so utterly pleased.

you shook your head, crossed one leg over the other. "nothing," you said. "just don't know why the clients i attract are dead set on hats, of all things." you were thinking of all the times arber had insisted on a hat, even though you thought his hair had looked just perfect for the camera.

"how did you and wifi meet?" cole asked easily, perhaps also thinking about arber and his colorful hat collection. "or bear, right? that's what you call him?"

you blushed, nodded slightly.

"only if you're comfortable," he clarified, and it surprised you that you actually were. sitting here, in this stranger's house, you felt normal.

"we've known each other since grade school," you began, clasping your hands. "he's my best friend."

"you don't come to the games," cole said, nothing more than an observation.

you shook your head. "not a hockey fan," you admitted.

he tilted his head. "maybe you just haven't been watching the right player, love."

you rolled your eyes at his obvious arrogance. "okay, big guy."

he took a sip of water. "so you guys have always been friends?"

"we dated for about a year in high school," you said, leaning on your clasped hands. "my first boyfriend."

something interesting sparked in his gaze. something you noted. "and?"

you narrowed your eyes. "and some people aren't meant to be dating. arber and i are meant to be friends. why?"

just a bit of a blush crept across his nose. "no reason. how did you get into styling?"

you rubbed at your shoulder blades again. "arber offered me the job." you swallowed, omitted the rest of the story. you were comfortable, but not that comfortable. "he's the first and only person i've styled, up until now. until you."

meaning flooded his eyes. "i'm honored, then."

don't be, you thought, i'm not worthy of something like your honor.

"thanks for making some room for me," he finished, giving you another smile that had your heart feel like it was bubbling.

"if you didn't want a stylist," you asked, trying to slow down your heartbeat. "why am i here?"

"i was catching too much heat from the guys," he confessed, honest and unserious. "and wifi said he could hook me up. said you were the best of the best."

you closed your eyes and gave the slightest shake of your head as you smiled. of course he would say that.

"so, how do you usually start out?" he asked.

you thought to yourself for a minute. you didn't really know. "when i started with arber, i already knew everything about him," you said. "and i don't know anything about you, cole."

"except," he clarified, "that i like hats."

"yes, except that." you let out a low laugh. what must life be like, to take everything so lightly?

"what do you want to know?" he asked, running a hand through his soft-looking hair.

"style is about showing everyone a little more you," you explained. "what do you want people to see when they look at you?"

he scrunched his mouth to the side in thought. "i don't really care what people see." his emphasis told you that he cared about specific people, not people as a collective. what would it be like to be a part of those select few?

you took a breath. what it must be like. "okay. who are you dressing for?"

he appeared confused again, and he wore the expression like a child. "what do you mean?"

you could never be anything but patient with him. what would disappointment look like on him? you shuddered at the thought.

"you mentioned the guys in the locker room. are they your audience? or maybe the girls on social media?" he blinked. "who do you want to look good for?"

"how does arber answer this question?" cole asked.

you pressed your index finger to your lips playfully. "client confidentiality," you explained.

"i want to look good for me," he said. "i play better when i know i look good before the game."

you nodded, making a note of that. "good." his gaze softened into something lovely.

"but i wouldn't be mad if your help meant i get some more edits made of me."

a laugh burst free from your chest, organic and loud. it seemed to echo across the high ceilings, and it echoed in cole's head. "got it. show me your closet?"

you made to get up as he pushed off of the counter, his arms and chest flexing as he did so. you willed your flush to dull, not wanting to give yourself away or make him uncomfortable, although that seemed impossible.

"take me out to dinner first," he joked, making you roll your eyes as he led you to the master bedroom, then to his massive closet. he held the door open for you again.

"do we have enough hats?" you asked sarcastically, your eyes immediately drawn to his excessive collection.

"okay, lay off," he said, grinning, leaning against the doorframe. "they aren't going anywhere."

you panned through his button-downs, his trousers, his ties, overall pretty impressed. "lots of color," you observed. "especially in your accent pieces."

"i like to be a little different," he admitted.

you were glad you weren't looking at him head on. as if his presence wouldn't make him stick out in any crowd, no matter the size.

"you have a lot of nice pieces here," you complimented, finally.

he looked at you with such hope, you melted. "really, love?"

the name made you flutter off the ground, like you had wings again. like they had never been severed off with a rusted blade.

you nodded, met his gaze, decided you could probably live there, drowning in his attention. "yeah, cole. i'm excited to help the world see a little more of you." lucky world.

i'm excited to see more of you, you wanted to say.

something warm swirled in the air around the two of you. "thank you again for taking me on," he said. "you didn't have to, and i'm really happy you're here."

you could have sighed at those words. when was the last time someone had told you that, so explicitly?

you bit your lip. "okay, so wednesday? we can do measurements?" you said, hoping he didn't notice your breathlessness.

"perfect," he agreed.

so, on wednesday, you were back at cole's house, this time with all of your supplies, ready to begin what you hoped would be a wonderful partnership. and you were sure it would be, if only you could stop getting so distracted by your client.

and he was ever so distracting, now, having obviously just showered, flushed from steam, hair damp and dark, his eyes a drowsy and delicious sort of comfortable.

"you came back," he said as you stepped inside past him, past what you could assume was the smell of his shampoo - something fresh and almost floral.

you clutched your clipboard to your chest, looked at him curiously. "of course i did," you said. this was your job, after all. you were dedicated to your business, your craft. to your people. and cole was technically part of that circle now.

he put his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, shrugged. "just happy you're back, 's all."

you bowed your head to hide how much his words meant to you. how could he say things like that? things that meant everything to you, but he said them like they were the easiest thing in the world? like they were just an exhale?

"how was practice?" you asked softly as the two of you walked side by side to his closet. you knew it had been exhausting, at least from arber's curse-filled rambling that had blown up your phone the second his ice time ended. you had empathized with him, but mostly just reminded him to chug some gatorade and suck it up, he was a professional athlete.

the thought of telling cole caufield to suck it up almost made you sick to your stomach.

he blew out a breath. "tough, today," he said. "i won't bore you, though. know you're not a hockey fan." he said the last part with a joking sort of bite.

i want to know, you wanted to say. i want to know about you.

but you didn't want to scare him off, or come across as weird, so you didn't say anything.

"what's your plan for today?" he asked.

right. you had a plan. you put your clipboard between your side and your arm, pulled out your tape measure. "measurements," you said with a smile, almost shyly.

now that you thought about it, taking someone's measurements was an intimate act in itself. standing here, in front of him, you realized how dangerous this was.

was there anything more tense? than to know the width of one's thigh, having never seen it bare? to deeply understand the curve of one's neck, but through numbers, never touch?

"where do you need me?" he asked, and you wondered briefly if he registered why his words made you jittery.

one look at his ghost of a smirk and you had your answer. you cleared your throat. you put a pen behind your ear, tape measure and clipboard in your hands, held your arms up in a t. "like this," you said, and he mirrored you.

you took a breath before closing the space between you, beginning to measure the distance from the center of his chest to his fingertips.

did the silence weigh as heavily on him as it did you? like kindling, one spark away from a wildfire?

you recorded the number on your paper.

"what did you do today?" cole asked you gently, as if not to spook you. you wrapped the measure around his bicep as you thought to yourself.

"not much," you said, thinking about your slow morning, which you had spent drafting something like an article, exploring recent trends among male athletes. something no one would ever read, you were sure.

you were almost embarrassed at your inability to talk to him - keeping everything short, so short, as if keeping distance from a rabid animal.

he didn't seem to notice. "what did you have for lunch, then?"

a small smile began to pull at your mouth. "a grilled cheese."

he tilted his head back and let out something like a moan, something that had you bowing your head to hide your face.

something that made the air scream.

"that sounds amazing," he said as you bent down, held the measure at his feet and began to work it all up to his knee.

"yeah?" you replied, happy to not have to look at him, to have something to do with your hands. "maybe i'll make you one sometime."

there was a pause. "would you?" he asked, voice slow.

you scrunched up your face, met his gaze for only a second before turning back to your task. "yes," you said simply before pulling the measure up to his waist.

the number made your shoulder shake in a rumble of laugh.

"what?" you could hear the glow of a smile in his voice, bouncy and bubbly.

you shook your head. "nothing," you tried. "'m just used to different measurements."

"are you?" he asked. "don't tell me you're thinking about another man right now, love. it'd shatter my heart."

you laughed for real, at that. "it's just that arber is so tall, barely proportionate," you explained, writing on your clipboard again. "and you're-" you faded out, at a loss for words.

how could you even describe him?

"not six four?" cole offered, not even close to offended. almost cocky about it, somehow. he ran his tongue along the edges of his teeth, gave you a grin.

you shook your head. "not six four," you agreed. you twirled your finger in the air, motioning for him to turn around, his arms still in a t.

you now faced his back, became closely acquainted with the damp curls at the nape of his neck, with the practically pornographic indents in his shirt that marked his triceps.

"tall enough, though," he said into the air in front of him, snapping you out of your trace, cockiness oozing from his voice like blueberry syrup. "don't you think, love?"

you thanked every star there had ever been that he couldn't see you.

what could you say, here? what would be the normal thing to say?

"i think so, cole," you squeaked, trying not to let the smell of him so close make you dizzy. if you looked at his face, what would you see? what part of you would that heal?

you held the measure at one end of his full wingspan, pulled it all the way to his other outstretched hand. your fingertips just barely grazed the backs of his hands, only just a brush, and yet it felt like some private secret, like a stolen touch in an ancient ballroom.

you longed to run your hands across the planes of his shoulder blades, check for the wings you were sure you would find.

this golden boy would never have the ugly, jagged scars that you felt marred your own back. no, his wings would be bright and proud and every bit the wonder that he was. this beautiful angel boy would never know the grief and theft that you understood so personally.

"alive back there?" he said, a roughness to his voice that made you shiver.

you nodded although he wouldn't see it, finished your last measurements, cleared your throat, tapped the top of his spine once in finality.

he turned to you. face to face, his smile was so brutal you could have flinched.

"all done, love?" he asked, little more than a whisper. you couldn't stop your gaze from slipping to his mouth, if only for a second, maybe lingering on his full lips before snapping back to his shimmery eyes.

"all done," you repeated, low and heavy. "you should probably do your inseam." you forced a lightness into your tone to dissolve the tension you felt pressed between the two of you. "and don't embellish."

his smirk was nothing like the boys you'd had in the past. there was no trace of cruelty, only a cocky sort of satisfaction. a knowing. "i'd never lie to a pretty girl like you," he rasped. "and besides," he added. "embellishment's not necessary."

you bit back a nervous laugh, tried not to let your mind wander, tried not to wince at the word pretty in his voice ricocheting against your head.

then he was handing you back your tape measure, giving you a number with that smirk on his face.

and then the cockiness was gone, replaced by something soft.

his head tilted ever so slightly as he leaned forward, just an inch, angled his face to your neck before retreating back to meet your gaze again.

your face felt hot, your feet like someone had poured cement over the tops of your shoes.

"you smell nice," was all he said, ever the gentle observation.

you blinked at him, rubbed at your shoulder blades unconsciously. "thank you," you breathed.

all of a sudden he was glowing much too bright, like staring into the midday sun, just this mass of potential, so much potential without even a smidge of doubt.

this potential, his potential, there was no doubt that it would be realized, exceeded even. no doubt at all. beautiful golden angel boy. his wings were too much to bear, just now.

you mumbled an excuse to leave, rushed to gather your things, ignored the confused scrunch of his brow, nodded affirmation about your shopping appointment tomorrow, hurried out the door with a shy goodbye. so rushed, so shy, you missed the way longing invaded his gaze as he opened his front door for you, watched you get into your car and drive away.

you hated the way slow, burning tears ran down your cheeks as you drove, the kind that hang at your jaw and feel like they must leave some kind of mark behind - some kind of ugly scalded scar.

and you weren't mad at him, that would be impossible. you weren't even jealous. you had known for years that you would never get your wings back, and it wouldn't even be the same if you did. to sew them back in would be so painful, so traumatic. so no, you weren't jealous.

it hurt, then, it hurt so terribly to want someone so, so different, someone so much better. you felt as if you would never deserve to bask in the glow of his attention, to hear what his voice sounded like when it was drenched in syrupy sleep, to know what his perfect mouth would feel like on your collarbone.

you went to sleep with a phantom ache. you went to sleep sad.

the next morning was better.

you were at arber's, laying out a couple of options for him to wear to a casual sponsorship event he was attending later.

after your usual catching up while you sorted through some of his shirts, his voice adopted an airy sort of inquiry.

"so," he began, sitting and leaning back against the wall, his elbows resting on his knees. "how's coley? 's he being nice to you?"

you scrunched up your face, laying one shirt down on top of some dark brown trousers. "'course he's being nice to me," you said. "don't think he's got a mean bone in his body."

"alright," arber relented. "you bein' nice to him, then?"

"yeah." you met his eyes, couldn't shake the worry in your tone. "why? did he say something 'bout me being mean?"

you knew the smugness on arber's face all too well. a set up. it made you roll your eyes, throw a balled up t-shirt at him.

he laughed. "i knew it," he said. "since day one. since before day one, actually."

"shut up, bear," you grumbled.

"i'm just excited for you," he defended, still in that teasing tone. "been a while since you've had a crush, eh?"

in reality, you hadn't really had a crush since your fall from grace. since that demon from your past had left you like you were nothing, like you were a pointless chore.

you grabbed a couple pairs of sneakers. "whatever," you said, tried not to sound defeated.

"what does that mean?"

"crushes are meaningless," you said.

"crushes are fun," arber corrected you.

you scoffed. "it's basically painful for me to be around him."

"fuck." arber threw a sock at you. "so you really like him, then." he shrugged to himself. "i called it."

"how could you have possibly called this?" you asked, genuinely, holding a baseball cap next to a sneaker to see if the shades of navy matched. "cole is, like, the opposite of my usual type."

arber laughed again. "and what good has your usual type ever done you?"

you rolled your eyes, despite that fact being absurdly true. "you know you count as part of that demographic, right?"

"with me being the obvious exception," he amended. "as i'm not a sadistic asshole."

you finished laying out his options, stepped back.

"i like the navy one," arber said immediately.

you were nodding already. "i knew you would."

he made to stand up. "so, you seeing him today?"

"we're shopping," you said, taking a breath.

"sounds fun," arber tried. you lack of a response was notable.

"i'm scared," you whispered eventually. "he's just so..."

no words seemed to do him justice.

"good?" arber offered, half shrugging a massive shoulder.

maybe that word did.

"wanna know something?" he asked, slowly draping his arms behind your head and pulling you into a hug. you relaxed into his familiar embrace.

"what?" you said into his chest.

"you are, too."

you carried your friend's words with you like a talisman as you mentally prepared to see cole again.

and when you arrived at your agreed meeting spot, like a vision, he was there, waving at you. and no preparation would have been enough, you realized, as his easy kind of beauty would stay breathtaking no matter how long you knew him.

his hair curled into his face as he pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, drawing your gaze to the slope of his nose, the symmetry of his high cheekbones.

you rubbed at your shoulder blades and waved back at him. "hey," you said when he was in front of you.

"you came," he said, his voice laced with such pleasantness you could taste the sugar of it on your tongue.

"of course i did," you sing-songed, knowing you had had a conversation like this with him before.

"well, i'm happy i get to see you," he replied as you began to walk side by side. "where to first?"

so you went shopping with your client, and as you did, you couldn't help but recognize how cole had this way of making you feel like showing up was all you ever needed to do.

like the phantom weight of your wings was gone, like they had never been there, because the only you he knew was the one standing in front of him right now.

and that you seemed perfectly enough for him.

every time you held up a shirt to his frame, every time he met your gaze, each accidental brush of a touch - it all felt like something you had dreamed up.

"can i ask you a question, love?" he asked at one point as you both entered a store that specialized in sneakers.

you nodded.

"how come you always wear..." he trailed off, opting instead to gesture to your daily uniform of well fitting jeans and a flawlessly ironed button down.

"how come the stylist isn't more stylish?" you asked, a teasing smile beginning to come free.

"not necessarily." cole shrugged. "you always wear the same thing. just wonderin' if there's a reason."

your heart fluttered at the idea of him observing something about you and wanting to understand the reasons why.

you quickly realized it was probably important to him, from an employer standpoint, to understand his stylist's clothing decisions, and the fluttering wilted.

you looked away. "because it's not about me," you said, picking up a unique looking pair from a shelf.

when you turned to show him, his confused expression startled you. it looked so genuine on him.

"it has to be, sometimes, right?"

no, you wanted to tell him, it's all so much easier when it's not about me. when it's not about what i want. please don't make me think about what i want.

"yeah," you said instead, less than convincing, "right."

and the day continued, successfully, if you said so yourself, as you got a better sense of what cole actually liked to wear. unfortunately, you also got a better sense of who cole was, and that was very much not helping in your desire to stop wanting him.

how his laugh came so often, and still so truly. how his smile never dimmed, a glow that seemed to permeate the thick thorns around your heart. how he asked you more questions about yourself than maybe anyone.

when you suggested a darker color, so as not bring attention away from his eyes, he asked, "where did you learn that?"

and he would listen so intently as you explained how color theory was one of the first things you learned in university.

and he would say, "that must be why you wear red shoes a lot, then. to match with your undertones."

and you would nod and try to hide your blush before it began to match your patent red slingbacks.

and then later he said, "i didn't know you went to university, love. what did you think of it?"

and you would feel embarrassed but still compelled to say, "i didn't finish it." because lying to him about that seemed cruel, stupid, petty. because lying to him seemed impossible.

and he would say, "but what did you think of it?" with no trace of judgement or expectation and you almost didn't ever remember what it was like to have wings, what your fall from grace was like, what that searing blade felt like on your back.

so a smile that was beautiful because it was true would grace your mouth as you told him, "i loved it." and it would feel so deliriously liberating to tell someone that. for someone else to know that you really had loved school, and that dropping out hadn't been what you wanted but what you needed.

and that while you were so, so grateful for what you were doing now, there was a part of you that was so utterly glutted with rage at the fact that someone had taken that from you.

that someone had broken you so critically and completely that something you loved had morphed into something you couldn't manage, something that would only break you more.

and that every day was another day closer to healing, another day closer to being okay with the fact that the past had already happened.

and cole would smile just because you were smiling.

later on, towards the end of your excursion, when he held up a positively dreadful hat that matched definitively nothing, you couldn't help but laugh.

and if your eyes weren't shut you would have seen how something sparkled in his eyes like rippling water.

"c'mon," he pleaded. "it's perfect."

"it's definitely something," you conceded, hating the hat but loving the way he seemed to love it.

"please, love," he begged, and you didn't even know why he was asking you, as it was his money, and at the end of the day, his wardrobe.

you didn't mind the tone his voice had taken on, though, if you admitted it to yourself. he made pleading sound so pretty.

"how about this?" you offered. "we can do a 'one for me, one for you' rule." you met his excited gaze. "to make sure we balance what i think is right and what you want."

"one for me, and one for you," he repeated.

you nodded. "almost like we're working together on an art project, or something."

he laughed, and it was glittery. "but i'm the art project," he responded, delighted at the metaphor.

you wanted to tell him that he was a masterpiece.

the following weekend marked the first preseason game that you would be styling him for.

very early the morning of, you drove over, having already met with arber and gotten him squared away.

"don't you dare make him look better than me," arber warned you on your way out.

you rolled your eyes. "good luck today, bear," you called over your shoulder.

"i'm serious! no playing favorites just because you want to fu-"

you shut the door before he could finish his sentence.

now, here you were, pulling pieces from cole's closet as he sat on the edge of his bed.

"what are you feeling like today?" you asked him as you thumbed through jackets. "brown or black?"

"i'm feeling like that light purple tie over there," cole replied immediately, pointing to the one he was talking about and not answering your question.

you shook your head. "well, we'll do one for me," you said as you grabbed a beautiful soft brown suit, "and one for you," you finished as you plucked the purple tie from its holder.

you completed his look together and then waited in the kitchen for him to change.

you heard his footsteps behind you, causing you to turn. "well," his rough voice asked, "what do you think?"

seeing him made you feel like the wind had been knocked out of you.

but there was something almost sinisterly personal about seeing him in clothes you had styled him in, a collaboration of his likes and your knowledge, a combination of him and you, right in front of you.

just as you had imagined, the soft brown complimented his coloring beautifully, the purple adding the perfect pop of spontaneity.

would it be like this every time? would he always feel like best thing you had ever done?

"trying to take your silence as a compliment, love," he joked, and you scolded yourself that he had even gone a second without knowing how beautiful he looked.

you approached him, then, reached up to adjust his collar, one of the first times you had willingly and unnecessarily thrust yourself into his personal space. which he noticed, by his sudden intake of breath, the way his chest rose and fell.

"look so handsome, cole," you told him honestly.

and you'd tell him a thousand times if he kept looking at you like this, like you were the sweetest thing he'd ever seen. like you were unscarred. or maybe that you were scarred, but that you were sweet anyway, like a just-over-ripe end of summer plum, the kind whose dark juice dribbles down your chin at first bite.

"thanks to you, love," he breathed, his voice a little short.

you dusted off his shoulders, relished in the sculpted muscle you felt under your palms. "you're a job well done, then," you said, and you loved the way his eyes warmed at your words, at the way you could physically see the effect you had on him, the way he wore his desire so shamelessly.

oh, to be shameless. you weren't there, not just yet. couldn't yet meet him at a shameless middle.

but as you left him to do any final preparations before his game, you couldn't help but feel that you were gliding, slowly, but absolutely, towards that meeting.

that feeling was strengthened that weekend, the last weekend before the real season began. you were scheduled to style both arber and cole for a country music festival in toronto.

for the last two years, you had styled arber for this event, as it was one of his favorite weekends of the summer.

it was one of your favorite events to style, too, as you rarely got to lean into a more western, almost cinematic sort of look.

it would be your first time thinking about this event from the perspective of two different clients.

arber's side was easy. he already had a favorite cowboy hat, a refusal to wear boots, an insistence on sneakers. it was only a question of colors, of brands to satisfy sponsorships, of what flannel shirt to rip the sleeves off of.

"and you're sure you don't want to come?" arber asked, ever the inclusive best friend.

"'m sure, bear," you said, although part of you wanted to come. something was holding you back though, something you didn't like very much. a fear of being a burden? a fear of feeling alone, surrounded by thousands? something like that.

arber knew you well, though.

"i'll see you at the festival," he said as you left him to get ready.

"what?" you asked, confused.

you could hear his smugness even though your back was turned. "know coley's going to ask the same thing and you're going to go all gooey-eyed. 'of course i'll come, cole,'" he said, doing a dreadful imitation of your voice at the end, "anything for you!"

you were happy he couldn't see your vengeful flush, your embarrassment at how accurate his statement had been.

anything for you was echoing around your brain when you showed up to cole's house, made your bow past him extra bashful, made his presence seem extra indulgent. being around him today smelled like brownies, like chocolate, like fudge that gets stuck on your teeth. it was rich. and it felt a little shameless.

you handed him a container with a grilled cheese you had made that morning. "'s your off day, right?" you explained. "just don't tell your trainer."

and maybe somebody else would have looked at you with expectation, maybe someone else would have thought what else will you do for me?

but cole's gaze was so genuine it melted you away. "for me, love?" he asked, and you could sighed at how happy he was in that moment. how easy it was for him to be happy. how it still felt so lovely to make him happy, despite the ease.

"of course for you," you said, willing nonchalance into your tone, even though that couldn't be farther from the truth. you began to walk to the closet. "now, about today's event-"

his hand grasped your wrist, ever so gently, like you were some kind of precious porcelain doll. like to disturb your beauty would be a malevolent crime. like he would lock himself up if he did.

his barely there touch stopped you where you stood. "thank you," he breathed, some kind of meaning twisted up in his words that was beyond you.

and you wanted to laugh nervously, wave him off, mutter something about how it was just a grilled cheese, for god's sake, how it didn't mean anything.

but lying to cole caufield had always felt like an impossible ask. so of course what you ended up saying was, "anything for you."

and of course you wanted to bang your head against his beautiful wallpapered wall after you said it. you could hear arber's grumble of a laugh in the back of your head.

if you had been focused on cole's face, then, you would have seen how the heat in his eyes burned like embers, how his jaw worked at your words.

but you were already opening his closet, the place in his house that was quickly becoming your safe space. "about today," you began, forcing the squeak out of your voice. "how do you feel about standing out a bit?"

"as in...." he said, an easy smile on his face like he was just happy to listen to you talk.

"as in full western," you answered, hope dripping from your tone like granulated sugar.

he looked at you with a teasing skepticism.

"please?" you asked, barely noting how his eyes darkened, if only for a second. "please let me dress you up, coley?"

you knew you had him. and you were right, but to a greater degree than you realized.

"dress me up, then, love," he conceded, leaning against the doorframe.

your smile was nothing short of triumphant. when was the last time you had felt triumph?

"one for me," you sing-songed as you placed a pair of cowboy boots at his feet like an offering, setting the tone of the final look immediately.

"and one for me," he said, soft, picking out the hat you had been going to choose anyways. something told you he knew this, which made your blush begin to creep up your neck and past your ears.

so you went spar for spar, picking out pieces until you the final look of your dreams was laid out in front of him.

you left him to get changed, but as you passed him in the doorway, you rubbed gently at his shoulder. "you're too good to me, cole," you said, in a joking tone, but you meant every word. "letting me win."

he exhaled and relaxed into your comfortable touch. "like it when you win," he said.

and what could you even say to that? so you didn't say anything, went to wait for him in the kitchen. everything felt warm. what a delicious pleasure, to have someone say they were rooting for you. suddenly being a professional athlete made a lot of sense to you.

"'m glad i let you dress me up," he said as he walked in, adjusting his hat. "i think standing out might be exactly what i need before the season starts."

and when he stood in front of you, a vision of western silhouettes and muted denim colorways, a pop of red here and there, you could have clapped yourself on the back. he looked like a truly wonderful combination of a trashy airport romance novel and a luxury magazine editorial.

his embroidered denim button down strained at his thick biceps and shoulders, his shorts the same sort of tense around his thighs.

you clasped your hands behind your back to release some of the pressure that had begun to coil up inside of you like a mechanical snake.

you didn't think you would ever get used to seeing the fruits of your imagination painted across cole's body. it was a special kind of intimacy. a torturous one, almost.

you approached him again, pulled at his sleeves in a teasing sort of way. "a little small in the arms, yeah? maybe around the thigh, too?"

he tilted his head, his gaze filled with cocky knowing. "and who took the measurements, love?"

you had entered an unknown land, the boundaries of which were unclear, blurry. it fizzed at the edges with danger.

accordingly, he brought a hand to your chin and held your jaw gently. "starting to think you did it on purpose," he breathed, something rough and raspy beginning to invade his tone.

"i'd never do such a thing," you defended, emboldened by his hand, by his courage. your hands were again clasped behind your back. don't cross a line, you thought to yourself. don't.

"i'd be willing to forgive you," cole started, his trailing off meaning there would be a condition.

his thumb had begun to trace feather-light circles on your jaw.

"if?" you asked.

"if you come with me today," he said plainly, openly, easily. always easily.

"done," you said, almost as easily. even if you knew there would be hell to pay when arber saw you. even if you knew the line between work and pleasure was becoming very, very thin. perhaps transparent.

as you drove back to your place to change into something a bit more suited for a festival, it dawned on you that you hadn't thought about your wings at all, hadn't rubbed at your shoulders the whole time you had been with cole that day. not even once.

with him, you didn't need to be the beautiful, smart prodigy practically overflowing with potential. you didn't need wings.

you just needed to show up. so, that's what you did.

you showed up for him at the festival, very notably not in your everyday uniform, instead in a vintage sundress you had been dying to wear and your boots, a unique pair of accent sunglasses pushed up into your hair.

it felt good to wear something different, to wear something a little more out there, to wear a bit of you. you were not used to giving the world a bit more of yourself, having felt before that perhaps the world didn't need any more of you.

you glanced at your phone, approached the spot that arber suggested you meet the group at, quickly recognized the clothes you had put together this morning.

you hugged arber first, elbowed him lightly when he whispered, "change your mind, did you?" into your ear.

you smiled, rolled your eyes, but you could see in his gaze that he was just happy that you had decided to come, that whatever you had going on with cole was enough to bring you here.

he introduced you to some of his other teammates, their respective friends and partners, everyone being especially welcoming.

some of his other teammates joked about how they might be needing your stylistic help soon, too, and their girlfriends might have shared a look with you and mouthed "please" with a friendly grin.

you could feel cole's eyes on you the entire time you stood there, could have touched the side of your face to check if his gaze had seared a burn into your skin.

finally you turned to face him, were starkly unprepared for the vulnerable desire you found lurking in his eyes like some kind of mythical beast.

you couldn't help but smile at him, tilted your head, asking him a silent question.

can i trust what i'm seeing? how do i know my vision isn't a liar, like everything else?

"you came," he said to you, then, like he had so many times before.

"of course i did," you said, like you had so many times back to him.

you adjusted his hat on his head, straightened it, tilted it down slightly, creating a bubble-like barrier between the two of you and everyone else.

you picked up right where you left off, on the fringes of danger. danger you felt as he only barely touched your fingertips with his, not quite holding hands, almost.

he thumbed the hem of your dress between his fingers. "wear something pretty for me, love?" his gaze flared across your figure like high beams, getting stuck on your exposed legs like sediment, coating your bare shoulders thickly, like brownie batter.

who are you dressing for, that's what you had asked him at the beginning.

"'cause you look it," he clarified, raspy, "just so pretty."

and you blushed strawberry pink, let the group lead you to the main stage, settled into the space as the artist came on.

set after set, you couldn't remember the last time you had existed so carelessly, so gently, so shamelessly.

there were no thoughts of the past, of wings that once were, of anything but dancing with your best friend, laughing with his teammates, singing along with their girlfriends like you had known them your whole life.

you felt so light, so present, so perfect.

light on your feet, almost floating, each time your gaze caught on cole's, immediately tugging a smile free on your face, the kind you felt in your ears, in your jaw, in your squinting eyes.

present, absolutely no where else, each time you heard cole's starburst of a laugh, the sound ringing through the air and your head like a bell, like a lullaby.

perfect as anything, each ghost of a touch you both stole from each other throughout the afternoon. making an excuse for hair in your face, for a bustling crowd, for having a bit to drink, for a thread that had come free. excuses that were unnecessary, that nobody believed anyways.

late into the afternoon, you pressed a hand to your collarbone, felt a glow of heat under your palm. you bit your lip, found cole next to you. "'m gonna get burned," you said to him, shaking your head like you had said a joke, like you had said can't take me anywhere, hm?

but he only started to unbutton his shirt, making your eyes widen more as he revealed more and more skin.

"what are you doing?" you whispered, a sort of pleading tone injected into your voice. something like please don't do this to me.

something that he heard, must have, given the smirk that crept onto his face at your flush, at your voice. "gentle, pretty girl," he soothed, now entirely shirtless, entirely distracting. he handed his shirt to you. "can't have you burning up."

you tried not to be too terribly touched. you took the sunglasses off of your face and handed them to him. "one for you, one for me," you said with a smile as you traded.

"one for you, one for me," he repeated like a child repeats a prayer, doused in a desperate kind of faith. he pushed your sunglasses up onto his head, making his soft hair stick up in a million different directions.

you let him hold your drink as you shouldered on his shirt, fastened the top two buttons, tried not to get dizzy at the scent of him all over you.

just then, your favorite artist in the lineup came onstage to begin their set, cheers from the crowd loud and warm.

you faced the stage now, away from cole, clapping your hands, flushed with excitement.

a flush that only deepened as the music began, as you felt cole behind you, as he wrapped his arms around your front and swayed with you to the rhythm, something twangy and groovy.

"'s this okay?" he whispered, resting his chin between your head and shoulder, his mouth so close to your ear that you could feel the heat of his breath.

maybe okay wasn't the right word for this. this being his thick arms resting lazily around your hips, his bare broad chest against your back like puzzle pieces slotted together.

you nodded, regardless, had a hard time focusing on anything but the feeling of him, so close. "'s okay," you breathed.

maybe okay wasn't the right word.

"can you see?" you asked, hesitantly relaxing back into his chest, draping yourself across him like some kind of quilt.

you felt his laugh more than heard it, the shiver it evoked making it's way up to your hairline.

"tall enough, remember, love?" he whispered.

you snaked one of your hands back, ran your nails lightly across his neck, his curls. "more than enough," you said, not really referring to his height, more so just him. how this beautiful golden angel boy was more than enough.

the night fell like blackberry jam, thick and sweet and like home. you lost track of time as you slouched deeper against cole's body, as he began to hold you up a bit as you grew tired, continuing to sway to the music all the time. you had never been more comfortable. nothing had ever been easier.

too soon the night was over. you felt the residue of the sun on your face like a blush, the weight of the day in your legs. too soon you were hugging your new friends goodbye, handing your number out to the ones who were interesting in perhaps becoming a client, a few of the girls saying they better be seeing you at games, soon.

too soon you were at the passenger door of arber's truck, as he had arranged to drive you home after you told him you were coming.

cole walked you to the door, opened it for you, held your warm hand as you hopped into the lifted truck.

"you have everything for the road trip?" you asked him, referring to the outfits you had picked out together for him to wear for his series of away games.

he nodded, something flickering in his eyes. did he feel the shadow of you against him as you did him? was he cold like you were, without his exhales on your collarbone?

"travel safe," you said, your words brimming with meaning. i'll miss you went unsaid, but not unrecognized.

"the gala when i get back, yeah?" he said, almost drowsy.

"i've already got some ideas," you said, and the thought brought a smile to your face.

something dangerous flashed across his face, making your stomach flutter, your heart tense. "i've got some ideas too, pretty girl."

and then arber got into the driver's seat, said goodbye to cole, who returned the sentiment.

"i'm really happy you came," he said to you as the car started. i'll miss you, too.

you had a dreamy smile on your face as arber drove away.

"i like your friends," you said.

"they like you," he returned before smirking. "some more than others."

you rolled your eyes, but it was no use. hope bubbled up in you like caramelizing sugar. "does it bother you?" you asked then, squinting, realizing you hadn't really asked your best friend what he thought.

"does what bother me?" he asked. "you coming out to things you never would have a couple months ago?"

you went to cut him off, but he pressed on.

"or that you smile more now than i've seen in years? or that you seem to be genuinely enjoying your work?"

he wasn't lying, wasn't wrong, wasn't even critical.

you had always felt that you connected with arber because he, too, walked with the distinct slouch of a fallen angel, of a being, once heavenly, now devoid. the same evidence of struggle, of lack.

it dawned on you then that you had never judged him for it, had only appreciated him more. maybe it was time to extend yourself the same appreciation, the same forgiveness.

it was arber who had extended a hand to you in that place of darkness, but it had been you who had taken it. it had been you who had gotten up.

you had always been the most wonderful team. the kind of trust existed between you that perhaps one only offers their first love.

"you know i just want to see you happy, don't you?" he said, a bit softer than his typical biting humor. "if that's him, i could never be bothered."

"i do know that," you said, and you meant it. "i don't tell you enough how much i appreciate you, bear. but i do."

how lucky you felt to know you had him by your side no matter what, that no matter what happened, you had your best friend. to know that he had you, too.

you made sure he was all squared away for his trip, gave him a hug goodbye, told him to text you when he landed.

and such began the week of time away.

a week you filled with planning, preparations, shopping, lists, moodboards, drafting articles that (probably) no one would read but you wrote them anyway.

a week you wore things that didn't match, clashing colors and aesthetics, frilly silk skirts and sneakers, jerseys and business trousers. just to see how it would feel, just because you could. shameless.

no matter how busy you kept, you missed cole. you missed the way your stomach would flip when he would open his front door, the way he smelled after he showered, you missed his firework of a laugh and the way his voice would get raspy with use.

it was hard to leave off at the point that you did - seemingly on the precipice of the point of no return.

part of you hated that you had left everything so uncertain still. every possibility of what he felt, what would happen, it twisted around you like a lovesick tornado. what would happen when he returned?

would you have to build up to everything again? would he forget what you felt like against him? would he even want you to remind him?

or maybe he would kiss you immediately, like you so desired. as he was away, your workdays became interrupted by visions of his lips, phantom hands on your hips, your fingers on his throat, his in your hair.

visions that left you a little breathless. a little flushed. but wanting, above all else. they left you wanting.

so you were a little scared, a little tense, but mostly full of want when you arrived at cole's for the first time since he'd arrived home after a successful string of games on the road. the week had gone by fast, but also painfully slowly.

today you planned to prepare for the gala tomorrow for one of his teammate's charities, a black tie event, sure to be a fun night to style.

today you wore a dress, and that said enough.

when cole opened the door your breath caught. beautiful golden angel boy.

he looked so soft, then. the angle of his jaw, of his cheekbones, perfectly distilled by his halo-like messy hair, his flushed face, almost girlish nose. you missed seeing his face in front of you, noticing everything about him.

what a privilege, to be close enough to cole caufield to notice things about him.

"after you, love," he said, stepping back and allowing you though. you bowed your head as you walked past him, a plume of his scent dissolving around your face.

how many times had you had this same interaction? had it always felt so electric? had the air been vibrating like this the whole time?

you made your way to his room, to his closet, just like always, catching up, asking him questions about his trip.

yes, he was a little tired, and yes, the team looked good, though he wished he had finished a couple more of his net-front chances. yes, arber did well, even coach said so.

and he asked you about your week as you began to lay out some options, occasionally referring to your clipboard of notes, moodboards, ideas.

yes, you had a nice week. yes, you ate well, really. you wrote a bit, and he could read the articles, if he really wanted to, which he insisted that he did.

"and how do you feel about a three-piece?" you asked.

"that depends," cole began, taking up his usual post, leaning on the doorframe. "how do you think i would look in a three-piece?"

you felt a blush begin to creep up your neck. "remember when you said you dressed for yourself?" you said in a teasing tone.

"still do, love," he defended. "just got a panel to consult, first, these days."

you exhaled. "you know i think you look lovely in anything, cole," you said. it had always felt like a crime, the prospect of lying to him.

you could feel the heat of his gaze on you as you panned through his dress shirts, his vests, his ties. you could feel the sparks of his eyes ignite into flames, flames that licked at your legs and tensed the coil inside of you.

was his halo beginning to singe the ends of his hair?

"did i ask you yet if you missed me?" he said, lazy but attentive, his eyes sharp.

you approached him, held a couple of ties up to his face. a forest green, a baby blue, a burnt orange. "you didn't ask me," you said, your gaze glancing to meet his between swatches. "do you really need to?"

the air fizzed and sparked. you could practically smell smoke.

you looked back to the ties, scrunched up your face in thought before nodding. "one for me," you began, referring to the baby blue tie you had chosen.

"and one for me," cole breathed out, all in one motion grasping your face in his rough hands and capturing your lips with his. his kiss tasted like a home-cooked meal after a semester away at university. it smelled like sugar and smoke and cinnamon and felt like floating, like flying.

it was rushed and just so desperate and rough but also gentle. there had never been anyone, after all, who had been as gentle with you as cole had, as if he was holding your delicate, bleeding heart in his hands, taking care of it for you until you were ready to house it again.

you dropped whatever you were holding, wrapped your arms behind his neck, your way of saying, closer, please. your way of saying finally.

he walked you backwards until you were the one leaning against the doorframe, the plane of it pressing between your shoulder blades. you twisted one hand in his hair, pulling gently.

he moaned into your mouth, making you smile into his as he brought one hand to brace against the frame, just next to your hip, the other still resting on the side of your face.

"please, love," he said, little more than a whimper. "i need you."

pressing himself against you using his leverage, you could feel exactly how desperate he was, just how much he had missed you, too. was there any better feeling than bringing an angel to his knees?

your sly smile turned mocking, your voice dripping in desire, still. "stop whining," you breathed.

the way he immediately did as you said, without question, eyes wide and glossed in waiting for your next move, it felt shockingly beautiful.

you had always been plagued by the struggle of a fallen angel. but here, now, with cole, you didn't feel like an angel at all. he made you feel like a god. and what good did shame ever do any god?

you gripped his shirt and pulled him out of the doorway, away from the closet, the place that had become something like a cathedral for both of you.

a cathedral for which the only accepted sacrifice was the sacrifice of shame, left bloody and dead on an altar welded from want.

you pushed him back onto his bed, the one you had walked by so many times, had barely allowed yourself to look at.

he leaned back with a grunt, put one elbow behind him and the other on his thigh, seemingly waiting patiently for you. ever so patient. always had been.

you sunk down to your knees, rested your elbows on his, now spread apart, looked up at him through your lashes, tilting your head as he brought one hand from his thigh to your head, lacing it through your hair. your mouth watered.

"can i suck you off, coley, please?" you begged as his grip on your hair tightened. "want to feel you in my mouth so bad, baby, can i?"

he whimpered at your words, was already nodding feverishly, moving clothes aside so you had better access to him.

you bit your lip as you pulled him out, felt the weight of him in your hands, hot and thick and -

"told you i didn't have to lie about measurements." cole's joking words broke you from a trance of heavy seriousness. you looked up at him, your delicate grip pumping him up and down, and found him to be smiling, a big, toothy, goofy one.

you couldn't help but laugh, a real laugh, one that had you flushing and shaking your head.

this, this was the real privilege. to be on your knees in front of him and still have him making you laugh. you knew then that you could be awkward and messy and still be beautiful, perhaps even because of your awkwardness and messiness. you could be a beast of desire and want and still be worthy of his smile.

then you took him in your mouth, moved your head slowly up and down, hollowing out your cheeks, promptly catching the laugh in his throat and urging it into an almost anguished moan instead.

he held your hair to the side, tilted his head back when you took him all the way to the back of your throat.

"fuck, love," he groaned, the curse guttural on his typically clean tongue. "bein' so perfect for me. feels so good."

his words spurred you on, pushed the pace of your rhythm, made you rake your nails down his thigh.

you felt his overstimulated shudder in your teeth as he grew impossibly harder in your mouth.

his breaths grew short and choppy, his moans whiny as his thighs tensed under your hand.

you pulled yourself off of him, spit running down your chin, your eyes watery and lashes clinging together as you pumped him with your hand.

he met your gaze and promptly moaned. "look so pretty, love, gonna cum if you keep lookin' at me," he whined.

and so the dirty, messy, and awkward god grew bashful at the angel's words.

"want you to cum for me, coley," you pressed, running a thumb over his sensitive tip. "please?"

something dark flickered across his gaze like lightning in a storm, powerful and inevitable. in a motion he pulled you to your feet, pushed your legs apart so you could straddle his hips, your dress pooling around you both, your center precariously and dangerously against his hard cock.

"hate sayin' no to you, pretty girl," he said, your faces again just a breath apart. "but gotta fuck you first, yeah? been dreaming about it."

now it was your turn to nod feverishly, to lift your hips up gently and let him angle himself underneath you. the seconds felt gelatinous. you both took a breath.

a breath you both released as you sank down onto him that first time, his coming out strangled and yours full of relief.

you both paused for a moment, you adjusting to him and he to you.

his stretch made you dizzy, a pull you could feel in your throat, in your fingertips. he mumbled something incoherent that dissolved into a groan as you began to move your hips up and down, each push deeper than the last.

you rested one hand on his lower stomach, grounding you, the other coming to gently grasp at his throat, squeezing only the tiniest bit. "like you've been dreaming, baby?" you asked, only a little teasing, only because you knew he could take it.

he moaned louder, nodded, dug his hands into your hips, began to meet you thrust for thrust.

something possessed you then, something hazy and hot, something had you moving your hand from his throat to his cheeks, clutching at his face in a way that forced his mouth open. open enough for you drop your head, almost like you were going to kiss him again, but instead letting spit drop from your mouth into his.

you could have sighed at how easily he swallowed, how his eyes were brimming with lust and something softer when he opened them and found you, there.

his eyes made you whimper, which made him thrust up into you harder, a little faster, somehow deeper.

"so wet for me, love, fuck," he bit out, dragging a slow hand from your hip to your bottom lip, sticky with spit. "take it," he moaned, an order but also a plea. "so good, love, take it."

you let him push his fingers into your mouth, let him rest them there, your eyes rolling back at the feeling of him everywhere inside of you. so deep you felt him in your stomach, the back of your throat. your heart, most of all.

you became aware of the hair sticking to the back of your neck with sweat, the pleasant evidence of effort that burned in your thighs, the croak of wear that had begun to tear at your voice.

you built up a rhythm, quick and hard. you rolled your hips back against him, hitting a new, perfect spot inside of you, making you clench tighter around him.

"feel you close," he rasped, "where do you need me?"

and you were back to that day, so far away, now, taking measurements. where do you need me? he had asked.

here, present you thought, here and now.

you tugged his hand from your mouth and led him to your folds, showing him exactly how to touch you. exactly what you needed.

his touch jolted through you, an electric current of desire, bringing you brutally close to your high as he continued to rub at your clit, thrust into you hard.

"fuck, coley," you whined, "'m so close for you. gonna cum all over your cock, baby. stretchin' me so perfect."

the muscles of his stomach clenched under your fingertips, his shoulders tense under your other palm as your motions up and down became messier, his thrusts sloppier, both of your breathing choppy.

"please cum for me, pretty girl," he breathed. "make me feel so good, yeah?" he grunted, almost a pained noise. "need you."

you did as told, his words and the beautiful vulnerability in his eyes sending right over the precipice of pleasure you had been teetering on. you came with a shuddering moan, collapsing into cole's damp chest, triggering his own orgasm, warm and raspy.

draped over him like a velvet curtain, you felt the rise and fall of his chest slowly become regular again against your cheek. the air around you was warm and stained with the enormity of your want, realized.

you tilted your head up to gaze at him, found him glowing, flushed, his hair fussed. he looked so beautiful.

"you look like an angel," you said, your voice all but a rasp as it escaped your worn-out throat.

his laugh was like honey and lemon. he shook his head, traced your jaw with his fingertips. "just a human, love," he said, a whisper. your eyelids grew heavy, your voice lazy. too lazy to stop the sweet smile that tugged at your mouth. one that he mirrored.

"me too," you breathed. he pressed his swollen lips to the top of your head.

and with that, with a sigh of relief, you finally laid your wings to rest, in the graveyard of things that had never been.

fin.