#and you know I’ll wake up tomorrow and keep working towards better

[faithfromanewperspective]

realising just how alone many of us are rn. and I’ve being saying ‘distribute social capital’ for years but it’s not that simple is it? like it’s something you have to build with every person, and we’re all so traumatised it just makes it twice as hard to get past all the coping mechanisms and life as it is now doesn’t allow the time for it. and it sucks to know I’m good at this very thing but at the same time, there’s only so much one person can do. like I struggle to pull together the people to make my own needs get met

[lis-likes-fics]

At the End of the Day

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x wife!Reader Word Count: 4k words Kink: Cockwarming Warnings: NSFW, smut, arguing, unprotected sex, fingering, desk sex, creampie, swearing... A/N: Nothing much to say for this one. Hope you enjoy and thank you! <3

He’s stuck behind his desk. Again. He’s got his pen in hand and a multitude of papers sprawled out on his desk as he works and works and works.

He’s been like this all week, buried under paperwork as you handle the children and the maids and the rest of the family. When he isn’t behind his desk, he’s out on business with Polly or his brothers or at a social event with you for the same business as Polly and his brothers. You could properly count on two hands the number of minutes he’s spent with the children or with you collectively.

You miss him. The kids miss him. You hate that he has to work so much.

“Tommy,” you whisper from the doorway of his office, knocking on the heavy door quietly as you look at him.

He hums deeply but doesn’t look up. Stuck in his work, he takes a drink from his glass and keeps his pen moving. His cigarette is still smoking in the ashtray set to the side, not quite finished yet. You sigh, saying his name again. Not so sweetly this time. “Thomas.”

He sighs and looks up, but his pen is still set firmly between his fingers. “Yes, dear?” he responds. He’s exhausted, you can tell, but he’s good at pretending he isn’t. You’re just better at knowing that he is. You stay by the door, looking at him as your eyes dart down to his pen. He looks down at it and sighs.

Tommy sets down his pen, a peace offering. He gestures toward you. “Come. Come in.”

You step forward, taking your time in coming into his office as you close the door gently behind you. You approach his desk, and he watches you walk toward him and come to a stop. You lean on the dark wood, your fingers pressing into it as you look at him.

“The children miss you,” you speak gently.

He hums, picking up his pen again. “I’ll tuck them in tonight.”

“Too late. They’re already in bed.” You sigh when he begins writing, rolling your eyes.

“Well,” he mutters, “that’s that, isn’t it?”

You clench your jaw, your eyes fluttering at the audacity of his words. You hum, watching as he writes, the sound of pen scratching paper filling the room as he gets back to work. He hadn’t even lasted a minute. You should know, you counted. He made it thirty-eight seconds between putting down his pen and letting it touch his hand once more.

“When I tucked in August tonight–” you snatch the pen forcefully out of his hand, ignoring the way he sighs as you slap it down onto the desk and look at him. It takes him a moment to look you in the eyes so you would continue, “–he asked if he’d done something wrong. He asked me if Daddy still loves him and his sister.”

In his eyes, you can see the regret beginning to blossom there. But as quickly as it comes, he’s masked once again in exhaustion and duty. “I–”

“I’m not finished,” you interrupt. He glances away but immediately looks back at you, knowing you won’t speak unless he’s looking in your eyes. “Delia wants to know why Daddy doesn’t brush her hair after she wakes up anymore. She said she’s scared that you got tired of her.”

That hurts him even more. His jaw twitches as he processes. “My–”

“I am still not finished.”

He sighs. With a shrug, he says, “We’ve only got two children.”

You close your eyes, clenching your jaw once more to show your frustration. He doesn’t speak again, allowing you the floor. “And you’ve got one wife who wants to know why you’re letting business come before family. Family above all else, that’s what it is. That’s what the whole fucking family is about, Tommy.”

He waits a moment to know if you’ll speak again, not wanting to interrupt you and feed your anger. He speaks slowly, “I’ll take the children into town tomorrow. We’ll spend time together.”

“And then you’ll go back to work.”

“I work for them, for you,” he says, his voice raising a bit. “I do all of this to keep you all safe and happy.”

You sigh, chuckling lightly as you shake your head. “Tommy, the kids are happier when they get to see their father. Spending time with them for a single day and disappearing for another month isn’t going to make them fucking happy!”

He doesn’t want to fight with you. He understands what you’re saying, and he’s frustrated that his efforts are not being understood, but he doesn’t want to fight. He looks at you, and he can see that you’re just as tired as him. He sighs, backing down before you both end up in a screaming match. Screaming at each other won’t fix anything.

He rubs his eyes and picks up his glass, taking a sip from it and setting it down gently in hopes of easing his nerves. He looks at you, staying quiet for a long time. You take his silence for what it is, a moment to breathe. So you take a breath and lift your hand, removing the crushing weight of your palm from his pen. He doesn’t look at it.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I’ll spend more time with the kids. They shouldn’t be missing their father.”

You sigh, looking around the room in an effort to level your voice. “It’s not just them who’s missing you, Tom.” You look back at him. “We don’t even sleep in the same room anymore. You’re always down here on this fucking couch or back in Small Heath on ‘business’. I can’t remember the last time you held me, the last time you touched me.”

He sighs. You watch his shoulders fall. “Come here,” he bids softly.

You shake your head, removing your hands from his desk and taking a step back. “No.”

“Come here,” he says again, not as softly.

You blink away from him, a heavy sigh leaving you as you make yourself move. You walk toward him, rounding the desk to his side. He reaches a hand out to your side. You begin to jerk away from him, but he’s not having it. He pulls you in, both hands on your hips as he turns his chair to face you.

Tommy looks up at you, resting his chin on your belly as his thumbs caress your sides. It feels good. Really good, you almost melt into his touch. But you don’t want to give him the satisfaction as you place your hands over his and pretend like you’re trying to push him away. He’s unconvinced, but he plays along.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. Two sorries in one night…you must have won the lottery. “I know you don’t want to hear me say it…but I have a little more work to finish tonight–” you go to push him off with a scoff, but he holds you tightly and raises his voice a bit above your frustration, “–and then I will tend to your needs. I promise you.”

“Tommy–”

“I promise,” he insists.

You look at him, wanting to be angry but finding yourself helpless at the sight of his normally cold eyes staring up at you with more warmth than anyone else—besides his children—would ever receive. You sigh heavily, rubbing your temples and refusing to look at him as you speak. “Fine.”

He actually smiles, breathing a gentle laugh. “As a matter of fact,” one of his hands slides down your side and ducks underneath your nightgown, “I can do two things at once.”

He pushes your panties to the side with his fingers and presses his thumb to your clit. Your hips jerk away from him at the sudden touch and you speak, annoyed that your voice comes out as a whisper. “Tommy.”

“Shh,” he kisses your belly over your gown. “Let me take care of you.”

He slides his fingers over your folds, swiping back and forth along the length of them before slipping between them. Your eyes flutter at the feeling, leaning into his touch a little more as his thumb continues to tease you. You set your hands on his shoulders, holding yourself steady as he watches you react to him.

You moan slightly when his finger pushes inside of you, parting your lips to delve deeper. He works it into you as the arousal begins to seep. “Good girl,” he bids, feeling you begin to slick up for him, just enough for him to add a second finger inside you. You grip his shoulders a little tighter.

He pumps them slowly, massaging inside you as you begin to move your hips to the rhythm. You’re becoming faster than you would have liked, enjoying his touch too much after being without it for too long. “Tommy,” you whisper, a little whinier now that he’s got you worked up. He can see your nipples poking through your gown now.

“Just like that, come on,” he whispers. “Get nice and wet for me.”

His voice washes over you like velvet. You find yourself succumbing to him. You lean against him, into his touch, accepting his truce. His thumb massages your clit some more, making sure you’re nice and ready for him as he feels his cock stiffening in his pants.

After a moment, he pulls his fingers out of you. You grunt, your frustration returning at the loss of stimulation. You open your eyes and look at him again. You huff. “If you want me calm, this isn’t the way to do it.”

He chuckles, reaching a hand toward his belt as he begins to undo it. He just tells you to hush (in a kinder way) and pulls his cock out as he fixes his seat. You consider for a moment before relenting. You bring one leg over him, hovering over his lap in a straddle. You watch him as you grab his cock and line it up with your pussy, slowly sinking down on him and closing your eyes at the pleasant stretch. You moan gently. He breathes a little heavier, his hands on your waist tightening as you take him deeper and deeper.

When you’re sitting in his lap, you both let out a relieved sigh as you rest your forehead on his shoulder. You stifle a moan and begin to grind your hips, but he quickly stops you with his hands gripping your waist. You huff, but it comes out as a whine. “What?”

“I still have to work, darling.” “You can work later,” you argue.

He chuckles breathily. “Yes, but I’ll be able to pay more attention to you if this gets done first.” He raises his hands to your face, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks. “You’ve just got to sit there and be still. I’ll take good care of you.”

You try not to pout. It would be too bratty, and you need him to take you seriously. But you do pout, and he does think you’re bratty, and he takes you seriously anyway. “How long is this going to take?”

He glances at the papers on his desk and considers for a moment. “Ten minutes.”

You roll your eyes and groan. “Hurry up.”

He kisses your jaw and retrieves his pen, tapping your bottom and telling you to be a good girl while he works. You sit and wait, keeping yourself still with more trouble than you think it's worth as the stagnant stretch of his cock feeds your hunger and refuses to quench it.

He braces his hand on your back as he works. You rest your head in the crook of his shoulder, your fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck.

When you grind your hips absent-mindedly, searching for some friction, he lightly smacks you with a low grunt. “Stop moving.” You hum lightly, refusing to apologize but choosing to listen.

He's so warm, and he fills you so well. The urge to roll your hips once more fills your thighs, but you remain as still as you can, little moans and whimpers in his ear acting as your only act of defiance. He was thick, sitting so deep inside you as you clenched to feel him pulse.

It's been too long. You don't know how much time has passed, but you're reaching your limit as your desire for him after being neglected for too long grew to unthinkable depths. He's right here. You might as well take what you can.

“How long has it been?” you complain, pulling away to look at his face.

He doesn't look at you, but you can see the slight turn of the corner of his lips as he replies. “Nearly finished.”

“How much is nearly?” you question, raising a brow at him.

He turns his eyes on you. “Nearly.”

But you're sick of waiting. You need something, anything, right here and now before you keel over dead. You roll your eyes, “That's enough for me.”

You roll your hips atop his lap, moaning deeply in your throat at the pleasure that blossoms at the feeling. He grunts, holding your hip tighter and gripping the pen as though it were a lifeline.

“Love, I–”

Your words lift from a moan as you shake your head. “No,” you take his pen once more and toss it across the room, “I'm more important than whatever it is you're working on. Otherwise you would have sent me away the moment you could.” You take his face in your hands and pull him close to yours, your lips just barely touching, your voice low and frustrated. “It's my turn.”

He stares at you, awaiting your next move in silence. But you don't move, against your greater impulses, you sit still and stare back.

His lips crash against yours, a bruising kiss that begs your attention just as much as yours begs his. You moan into his mouth as his hands tighten around your hip and hold the base of your head.

He grunts into you, enjoying the taste of your lips as he guides your hips, grinding you down on top of him as he devours you.

The pleasure is quick to overtake you, sinking into every limb and flicking at every nerve. You're dripping onto his lap as you lift yourself up on shaky legs. The puddle of slick you've created just from sitting there for who-knows-how-long would be embarrassing if you hadn't been in this position so many times, being filled up by Tommy's cock.

You lift yourself until the tip of him is embedded inside you, the flex of your thighs making you tighter as you do. When you drop back down it forces rough moans from both of you as you grip onto one another for dear life.

You do it again, setting a rhythm as the electric feeling of the thrusts spreads through you. The sound of your thighs smacking into his lap fills the room with the steady pace, creating a sinful beat for your love to keep time with.

And the bliss of finally being tended to is good, but it isn't enough. You need more.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck, moaning meekly and rolling your hips. “Tommy,” you whimper, your voice a gentle plea, a helpless whisper, an innocent manipulation. “Tommy, I need you.”

He tries not to shudder at the way you sound, pleading in his ear. He holds you tighter.

“What do you need, darling?” His voice is rough and full of breath, eager to smell your perfume and taste the liquor on your lips.

“More,” you hum, followed by another whimper only half-real as you grind yourself once more. “I need more.”

He knows what you're doing. He knows all your tricks, all the little ways you get him to do exactly what you want. He knows the voice you use, the breaths you take, the way your eyes focus on him, the way you hold him just a little differently. He knows everything.

But at the end of the day, he is just a man who loves his wife. A man who would do anything to see her happy.

He strokes a hand down the back of your hair, his parted lips passing shallow breaths. Nevertheless, he pulls you from his shoulder. “I'm not giving you anything until you say ‘please’.”

You lick your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling a moan as you decide whether or not you'll obey. But you do. With your palms at the sides of his neck, you speak. “Please, Tommy,” you beg softly. “Please give me more.”

He considers you, stalling just to make you squirm before picking you up and putting you on the desk, ignoring the pages and pages he lays you on. They're mostly done. He'll finish them eventually and let them go to whoever it needs to go to, still smelling of sex and the perfume you wear if it must. He doesn't care, he just needs you.

He holds you by the back of your legs, kissing the side of your knee as he stares at you the whole time. You watch him fondly, your breath shallow in your chest. He slips his hands down your thighs to hold your hips, lining himself back up with you and sinking inside once again.

Your eyes close and you purse your lips, a moan slipping through at the feeling. He presses himself inside you, rubbing against that deep part of you that makes your eyes roll. “Mm, Tommy.”

He sighs deeply, pulling out and pushes back in to set a steady pace. He starts with long, slow strokes that eventually build into a slew of quick, rough thrusts. You moan as you lay your head back against the desk, closing your eyes and trying to stay quiet as you gripped the desk behind your head. Your limbs tingle with the feeling of the pleasure spreading throughout your system. You clench around his cock and bury your face in your arms. You wrap your legs around his waist and bite your lower lip with the smallest grunts.

“Come on, love,” he rasps, his hair disheveled and his breath rough with exertion and desire. “You wanted this, don’t hide from me.” He reaches one hand out to gather your wrists in his palm. “Moan for me, darling. Look at me.”

You bring your attention to his face, your lashes fluttering with each little thrust inside your quivering pussy. You release your bottom lip from your teeth, setting free more whimpers and whines as your back rubs against the wood of his desk, the rock of his hips having you bouncing atop it.

He looks pretty. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide with lust as he gazes upon your body. For a moment, he wonders if he should take off your gown to see your naked body beneath him. But if he has to pull out of you before he’s finished, heads will roll. “Is this what you want? Eh?” he wonders aloud, letting go of your wrists to place your legs over his shoulders. You reach forward just enough to grab his waist, holding him close as the pleasure builds to wavering heights in both of you.

He presses his thumb to your clit, pulsing and in need of stimulation. “You needed me to fuck you nice and rough? Make it all up to you, eh?”

You nod sloppily, not paying too much attention to what he says as the pleasure gets closer and closer to that so desperately needed release. Your thighs tremble, the delicious shocks of desire bringing them to life as he continues to fuck into you.

“Tommy,” you gasp, dropping into a moan at the end of his name. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“You are, eh?” he teases, rubbing your clit just a little faster. “Have you said ‘please’?”

You mewl, helpless as you obey simply for your own satisfaction. He’s got you laying on his desk with his cock shoved in your cunt, and you’re moaning for him like the whores he used to fuck, but you’re still mad at him, even if you still love him with everything you’ve got.

“Please,” you moan. “Please let me cum, Tom.”

He grunts as he accepts, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he keeps on. “Alright,” he says. “Go on, love.”

The pleasure rises within you until you can’t hold it in anymore. With a thrust of his hips and a flick of his thumb, you fall apart as you close your eyes and lay your head back, your lips parting with a loud moan to let his name slip from your lips like honey. Your thighs tremble, your pussy flutters around him and pushes him over the edge.

A rough groan, bordering on a growl, erupts from his throat as he shoves his cock as deep inside you as he’ll go, grinding his hips to bury himself there. “Fuck,” he curses, your name rumbling in his chest. He spills inside you, rolling his hips into you as he does to fill you up with his warm spend. Your body tenses as you accept him, your lungs full of breath as your whimpers bleed into each little sigh until you feel the pleasure beginning to wane in the tingling of your toes.

He leans forward, towering over your body as his hips continue to thrust into you, his lips finding the junction of your neck and shoulders to taste your skin against his tongue. His kisses embed themselves in the fabric of your skin until they reach your lips, eager to slot into their natural place and become whole once more. The sounds he muffles into your mouth borders on a moan as his eager thrusts slow against the sensitivity of your pussy still coming down from your high.

You both linger there moments after you’ve returned to the earth through obligation. When you’ve come to yourself enough, wrap your arms around his neck and let out a long sigh, releasing the deep breath you’d taken moments before.

“Fuck,” you curse on a sigh, carding your fingers through his hair.

Tommy pulls his face from the crook of your neck and kisses you again, long and slow and almost possessive. He leans back to see your face, bringing his fingers up to brush them over your forehead, looking fondly into your eyes and searching your face for all of his favorite little features.

He sighs. “I don’t say it enough,” he says, his voice low and gentle and sincere. You stare back at him, stroking your knuckles along his jaw. “I love you, wife.” Your noses bump. You breathe each other’s air.

You breathe a little laugh, humming lightly. “No, you don’t say it enough.” You close the gap to kiss him again, a quicker kiss. “I’ll make sure you do.” You don’t return it, but he can see it in your eyes that you do, you do love him. He can see in your eyes just how much you can’t measure it. You don’t have to say it. He knows.

He taps your side, breaking away from you as he pulls out with a small sigh. He takes your hand and helps you to sit up. As you do, you take hold of his shirt and bring him close to your face. He thinks you’ll kiss him again.

“And, Thomas,” you smile a little, but he can see the threat lingering on your lips before they speak it, “if those words come out of my children’s mouths one more time, I’ll cut your cock off and feed it to you.”

Part of him wants to believe it’s just a threat—you love him (and his cock) too much. The other part knows it isn’t. You love your children more.

He smiles at you, nodding. He laughs as he says, “I love you, woman.”

You sigh on a hum, taking in the sight of his pretty face. “Hm… I know.”

Cillian Murphy taglist: @lyarr24​ @runnning-outof-time @goblinjnr @kmc1989 @shelbyism @weepingwitchofthewest @cl-0-vr @thoticious @sinarainbows @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 Tag yourself here...

[moonstruckme]

OOOOH Can i hop on the dr!rem train?!?! I would love to see how he is with someone who just doesn’t really take care of themselves. Like if something’s hurting they just power through. But of course he’s a dr so he’d know 🤔🤔💕💕💕💕

Ofc you can! This is precisely what I need him for haha. Also, when I wrote this my foot was still really hurting and now it feels tons better, so I think writing for him is healing me! Thanks for requesting my love <3

Doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Remus looks up from his laptop when you hold a bowl of pasta up in front of him enticingly. “Aw, thanks, sweetheart,” he says, taking it from you. He’s been so caught up in his paperwork he hadn’t even heard you bustling around in the kitchen, but you’d been thoughtful enough to bring him his dinner on the couch rather than call him to the table. “You’re too good to me. I’ll be finished here in a minute.” 

“It’s no problem,” you say with a smile. “Oh, I forgot I made you tea, too. Just a second.” 

You go back towards the kitchen, and Remus thinks to go back to his laptop for the interval of your absence, but something about the way you’re moving catches his attention. You’re walking oddly, shifting an almost imperceptible amount of your weight to one side. It’s not quite a limp, but there’s a stiffness there. 

You disappear into the kitchen for half a second, and Remus watches you carefully when you return. Your strides are as quick as if nothing were amiss, but there’s definitely something bothering you. It doesn’t look like the problem is in your foot, or your knee, but maybe your hip…

You pass him the tea, and Remus takes it quickly, chiding you for holding the hot part to pass him the handle. You roll your eyes as you sit, constantly discounting what you consider to be your boyfriend’s overcaution. You never worry about yourself, Remus thinks. Everything that happens to you is secondary, of little concern compared to whatever’s going on with everyone else. You don’t watch out for yourself, and you don’t always welcome others doing it for you either. It makes being someone who loves you an occasionally worrying task. 

“How was your day, dovey?” Remus asks, shutting his laptop to enjoy the meal you’ve prepared for him. “I’ve been so focussed on work I’ve barely talked to you since I got home. How are you doing?” 

Your smile is tinged with bemusement, but they’re not such odd questions as to draw much suspicion. “Don’t worry about it, I know it’s important stuff. I’m good, honey, how are you?”

“I’m good too,” he says, twirling pasta around his fork and inhaling the steamy aroma of the herbs you’ve mixed in. “Fantastic, now.” You blush, looking down at your own bowl. “Do much walking around today?” 

Now your brows furrow, and you bring your fork to your mouth, chewing pensively. “Some,” you answer after a while. “Why do you ask?”

“I just noticed you’re walking a bit funny,” he says as casually as he can, knowing too much attention will only lead to you belittling more than you’re already inclined. “Is there something bothering you, love?”

“Oh, yeah,” you say, looking back to your bowl as though forking your pasta suddenly requires your undivided attention. “Think I twinged something in my leg earlier. It’s not bad, it’s just one of those things, you know? I’ll wake up tomorrow and it’ll be fine.” 

It takes a heap of willpower to keep Remus from rolling his eyes. That’s your go-to reaction anytime something’s bothering you: power through and hope it goes away on its own. As someone who knows better, it nettles him incessantly. “Why didn’t you say something earlier? I might be able to help.” 

“Because it’s not a big deal,” you say through a mouthful. “Anyway, you were busy.” 

“Never too busy for you,” he hums, setting down his plate to lean closer to you, and fine, he’s pandering. If making light of this is what’s going to get you to let him help, that’s what he’ll do. “Let me have a look?” he asks you sweetly.

You look at him, sucking a stray noodle into your mouth. “What, now?” 

“Sure,” he says, already moving to perch on the coffee table across from you. “Just to make sure that it’s fine and I don’t need to run to the drug store before it closes or anything.”

You sigh like you’re doing him a big favor. “Okay, but it’s really not bad. You don’t need to worry.” 

He hums noncommittally. “Straighten your leg out for me?” You do, and he takes your foot in his hand. “What part hurts, dove?” 

“Kinda, like—” You strain to lift one hip off the couch, touching the back of your thigh, “—like, all down here, ish.” 

Remus cocks his head. “Does it hurt when you flex your foot?” 

“A little,” you reply, nonchalant. 

He nods, standing. “Okay, I think I get the picture,” he says. “Lay down for me, please?”

You give him a deadpan look. “Rem, I’m just trying to eat.” 

“It’ll only take a second.” 

With an eye-roll that you make sure he sees, you set your plate down next to his on the coffee table, laying on your back. Remus sits by your feet, lifting one of your calves so he can see the back of your thigh. He runs a knuckle over the skin there, noticing it’s a bit more swollen than your other leg. “Here?” he asks you.

“Yeah.” 

Remus laughs silently at the sudden tight quality to your voice, thinking he knows the cause. He takes a detour to test his theory, migrating his touch further down until his knuckle skims the crease of your buttcheek. 

“Careful,” you murmur, tone slightly teasing. 

Remus tries and fails to suppress his grin as he forces himself back on task. “It looks like it’s your hamstring,” he says. “It’s a bit more swollen, but in a lot of cases there’ll be bruising too, and I don’t see any of that. Do you remember when you hurt it?” 

“Mhm.”

Remus decides not to question you further on that for now; he’ll lecture you on telling him these things more quickly later. “Did you hear any sort of popping noise?”

“No,” you say, sounding unsure. “I think I would’ve noticed, right?”

“You would have,” Remus reassures you, relieved. “It’s probably just a pulled muscle, then. I’m going to test it really quickly to be sure, okay?”

“Okay,” you say warily, and Remus has you flex your foot, taking your leg in both hands as he straightens it and lifts it upward. You hiss, and he stops. 

“That hurts?” 

“Yeah.” Your voice is tight again, now for the wrong reasons, and Remus lowers your leg carefully. 

“Alright, sorry.” He kisses your knee. “Well, at least it shouldn’t take too long to heal. I’ll get you an ice pack when we’re done eating, and I want you to elevate it and take ibuprofen.” 

You sit up, clearly ready for your boyfriend’s mollycoddling to be over as you grab for your bowl. “Already am,” you say with a smile that Remus supposes is meant to be reassuring. Instead, he frowns.

“Sweetheart.” He gives you an admonishing look. “You were taking painkillers for this and you weren’t going to tell me about it?” 

“Don’t be mad at me,” you say lightly. “I made you pasta.” 

Now it’s Remus who’s sighing laboriously, pressing a reluctant kiss to the side of your head. “I suppose that does make up for everything, doesn’t it?”

[notjustjavierpena]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT Husband Javier and the reader are fighting the whole day but trying to repress it because of their kids- After they're asleep the two are arguing again and then boom makeup sex 😋 thank you angel !!!!

Fight

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This request literally had me up all night, and now it has come to life and possibly turned into one of the most sensual pieces I’ve ever written. I’m obsessed with them. 

Summary: You feel overlooked and unappreciated. Javier says the wrong thing and hell breaks loose, but he also knows how to say sorry. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (mdni!), domestic life and dynamic, grownups being assholes to each other, hurt/comfort, saying sorry to each other and to your kids because I’m healing my inner child, crying, pregnancy, pregnancy sex, passionate and rough sex, MAKEUP SEX!!!, clit stim, creampie, dirty talk, praise kink, love love love, they are just crazy about each other 

Word count: 4.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49596877

Fight

Chucho Peña is coming over tomorrow and that’s fine. 

You’ve made plans to make plans at this point though. The list of things you need to do before he arrives still gets longer every time you have a moment to think about it to yourself, teeny tiny details adding up to a day that’ll keep you busy from the moment you wake up. It would have been fine if you didn’t have to get the kids out of bed and prepared for school, and then go to work too, right on top of cleaning, shopping, cooking, and hosting — at 34 weeks pregnant.

Javier is Javier about it, reassuring you that it will be fine and that you just need to take a breath whilst he stands in the door to the garden, back towards you and smoking his morning cigarette whilst you try to tell Inés that she should have cornflakes instead of lucky charms for breakfast. 

“Oh,” Javier says after stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray that Lucas has made for him in arts and crafts class. He turns around and rests against the doorframe, “Can we have that chocolate cake you made last time? The one with the white chocolate frosting?”

You never personally thought that you’d ever get into an argument about chocolate cake. If you’d said this to the child version of yourself, she would have laughed out loud and told you that nobody could ever be angry about anything to do with dessert. Especially not chocolate desserts. Yet here you are, letting your fatigue get the better of you.

“Sure,” you let out a loud sigh, dragging it out to really let your husband know that you are not happy about his input, “Sure, Javi, I’ll just add it to my ever-growing list of things I need to do for your father.”

You hear it as soon as it leaves your mouth but you’re too stubborn to backtrack, watching Javier go rigid in the door. He furrows his brow in confusion, and then his expression turns into a frown and eventually a scowl. He doesn’t look downright angry but not happy either. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks defensively, body language telling you that he is getting ready for another attack. He enters the kitchen like he is walking on eggshells, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I only asked you if we could. You have every right to say no, and not be pi—“

Inés looks up at him with big brown eyes that are similar to his own. He swallows down the word, replaces it with something more child-friendly, “And not be rude about it.”

“Say no and watch you be a giant toddler about it? Great, I’ll definitely choose that,” you scoff, running on autopilot and clearing the kitchen counter whilst you argue. Out of the corner, you see Inés starting to squirm in her seat but you’re too far gone by now, “It’s not even my father, and I have to do everything for the preparation because you’re oh-so-important.”

“So we’re just never having my dad over ever again?” Javier seethes, mouth twitching in anger and threatening to put on a violent smile. He has some kind of ability to piss you even more off when he is just about to smile during arguments. 

“That’s not what I said, and that’s not the point,” you stubbornly bend down, hand on your round belly, to put your own plate into the dishwasher. Sebastian is due soon, kicking you as your pulse rises due to anger. Javier looks like he is contemplating whether to help you straighten again or not. 

“Then what is the point?”

With a hand on the edge of the kitchen counter, you manage to stand upright once more. You face Javier, finally scowling right back at him and he seems to shrink a little underneath your fury, “I’m exhausted, Javier. When do you think I have had a night to myself? I know you have a busy schedule, I do, but God—“

You drag the last word out, running a hand through your hair in frustration, “But you went out with Steve just days ago. I need to cook, clean, do the grocery shopping, take care of two kids, and - by the way - do it all with someone kicking my bladder every goddamn minute of the day. Which - by the way - is your doing.”

There is no reason to sound as venomous as you do, but you suspect that half of it is exhaustion and the other half is hormones getting the better of you and ridding you of better judgment. 

“Fine, you win,” Javier makes a display of holding his hands up in surrender but he mixes it with a roll of his eyes, and you almost go for his throat, “I’m a terrible husband.”

“Oh, you did not ju—“ You raise your voice.

Suddenly, you hear sniffling beside you. It pulls you right out of your head and makes you observe your surroundings, and with the way that Javier flinches, it seems to be doing the same to him. 

Inés' little voice breaks your heart, the sight of her even more so when you see she has covered her ears with her hands, “Mamá. Why are you yelling at Papá? Don’t you like each other anymore?”

Javier sends you a look that makes your stomach drop, something that tells you that you are not done here. He looks absolutely furious with you, especially after seeing his daughter cry.

But then he sucks in a deep breath and crosses the room to crouch down beside Inés. He rubs her back soothingly, “Nos gustamos mucho, mija.”

Your legs have made you join them before your brain can even get the idea. Ever so gently, you run your hand over Inés' hair, “I’m so sorry, baby. We won’t shout anymore. Sometimes we get bad feelings. Remember when we talked about those?”

Javier looks at you with his mouth still a thin line and you glare back at him without Inés seeing. He straightens to get a piece of paper towel, first dabbing his daughter’s eyes and then blowing her nose afterward. 

Lucas Peña peeks into the kitchen from the hallway. He looks like someone who has just woken up, hair sticking out in the same way that his father’s sometimes does, but it’s accompanied by a concerned expression on his face as he watches the scene in the kitchen, “Why were you fighting?”

“We weren’t fighting,” you reassure and hold out your arm. Lucas goes to press into your side, and you respond to his affection by resting a hand on his head, “Okay?”

“Okay,” Lucas replies but he doesn’t sound convinced. 

From the outside, it probably looks like the perfect family portrait but you can feel Javier is fuming underneath the surface. He leaves Inés’ side to throw the snotty paper towel out, his shoulders still tense.

“Lucas, can you take your sister into the bathroom and brush your teeth?” You say as neutrally as you can muster, faking a smile down at him as he looks up at you, “I’ll be right there.”

“What about breakfast?” He asks.

“I’ll make you a sandwich for the bus ride. Whatever you want, but we’re already late,” you tell him, and it seems to work as he takes Inés’ hand in his own and leads her out of the room.

When Javier and you are alone again, an uncomfortable silence settles between the two of you. Javier stands against the counter, palms flat on its surface and you can hear the sound of the clock in the background, ticking by as the silence stretches. 

You are just about to apologize when Javier turns around. His eyes are wild with fury, not at all as submissive as just moments earlier when you had been the angry one. He points at you, mustache twitching with disgust that you are sure must be directed at himself too, because he says, “Never in front of the kids. I don’t care how angry you are. We don’t do that.”

You can feel your bottom lip tremble. 

Javier leaves the kitchen instead of comforting you. 

You force a smile, trying your hardest to sound cheerful while tears spill down your cheeks, “Lucas, what do you want on your sandwich?” 

*

The rest of the day goes by without any resolve, and it feels like there’s a brick lying heavy on your chest and making you on the verge of tears all day. Despite this, you manage to get everything on today’s list done before dinner and yes, you buy the ingredients for the stupid chocolate cake, making an effort to ‘casually’ leave the recipe on the counter for Javier to see. It results in him emptying and refilling the dishwasher without a word. 

During your bedtime routine, Lucas looks worried. He tugs at your hand when you are just about to leave and you can see the cogs turn in his head as he strings together a sentence, “Mom… It’s okay if you and Dad were angry at each other. I just don’t like it when you cry and… and I want you to say sorry. That’s what you make me do when I get angry at you or Dad. Or Inés.”

Your heart hurts from the love that’s barely able to be contained inside of it. With every single muscle in your body being strained, you manage to bend down to hug his head close to your chest, “Mijo.”

“No, don’t be sad,” he says quickly, hugging you back. 

“I’m not, baby. These are good tears because I love you so much,” you kiss his head, “I’m so proud of being your mom, baby. You know this, right?”

Lucas pulls back and you quickly wipe your tears away. He studies your face for a second, “Y-yes, I love you too, Mom, but you need to say sorry to Dad.”

You nod, struggle a little as you try to get up and say your final goodnight. On the way out, you desperately brush more tears out of your face because looking at the photos in the hallway makes them well up in your eyes once more. 

Javier is tying the strings of his pajama pants as you enter your shared bedroom. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you strip yourself naked except for your underwear, and not even when you pull a tank top over your head that’s barely covering your pregnant belly anymore. You’re unsure of what to say to get a reaction from him. The silence screams. 

“I’m sorry,” you eventually settle for. 

Javier turns to you then. His eyes rest on you for a moment before he speaks, “I’m sorry too. I get it… wanting time to yourself. I just didn’t know that was what you needed.”

He is hugging you soon after, strong arms around your exhausted frame. Your round stomach bumps against his flat one, and he lets go with one arm in favor of resting a hand where Sebastian usually kicks during the evening hours. It’s thankfully quiet right now, as if he senses that you need it.

“I wish you could just see how much invisible work I put into this house,” you say softly into his shoulder, “I feel so underappreciated and overwhelmed sometimes.”

“And I wish you would tell me how you’re feeling instead of treating me like a damn mind reader,” he sighs deeply, and you respond by getting defensive again. You’re just about to pull away with an annoyed groan. 

“No, no, c’mere,” he tugs you back into his arms and you let him because you’re feeling generous. His hands cradle your face, “I don’t wanna fight. Please. I hate fighting with you. I’m sorry.” 

“You make me so furious,” you whine as he bumps your nose with his own, feeling tears prickle at the corner of your eyes and one sliding down to drip from your chin. Javier tuts, catches it with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, baby,” his mouth curls downward as he says it, puppy dog eyes on their highest setting, “I know how much you do. I do. I’m just— you know how I am. Don’t cry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Javier embraces you once more as you blink tears away, dragging in a deep breath. The air in the bedroom smells like him, comforting and safe, and it makes it hard to keep concentrating on your fight and easier to fall into him. 

“I love you,” you mumble into his shoulder, and holy fuck, you do - every single day, hour, minute and second. He is your best friend, your husband, the face of your children, and most importantly, you know that he does his best for you.

It seems that those three words are exactly what he wants to hear because you feel his hands curl around the hem of your tank top. You don’t protest, relishing in the gentle touch of his fingertips against your back as he pulls the piece of clothing up and over your head. 

Your shoulders come down to relax from having been tensed up. You haven’t even noticed how much energy you have been using on straining your muscles, but now that you are calming again, you can feel how upset you’ve actually been throughout the day. 

“I love you too,” he promises. Your heart drums in your chest. The way he says it makes arousal burn below your belly button, a gentle tingling, and swirling sensation pleasantly taking over your whole pelvic floor. 

You look down between the two of you to see that Javier is already half-hard in his pajama pants, words seemingly having had the very same effect on him too. You start untying the strings of his pants slowly until you can tug them down over his hips, and he mirrors you to remove your underwear. 

Both of your bottoms pool around your feet, and when you have both stepped out of them, Javier pulls you close by your elbows. He catches your mouth in a desperate kiss, and you melt into him in a way that an apology could never make him feel. 

He pushes you back towards the bed whilst never breaking the searing kiss. Your hair is a mess in his hands, heartbeat speeding up as everything moves so fast from then on out; he helps you down onto the bed like the gentleman he is, manhandles you onto your side like the man you were swept off your feet by years ago and finally presses his front up against your back.  

“I want you,” you say in unison, and it makes you giggle at how in sync you are with each other despite having spent the day fighting over something already long forgotten. Especially when his arm scoops underneath you to cage you against his chest, hand tightening around your shoulder to hold you in place. 

Javier leans over you slightly to kiss the giggles away, bends your knees a little with his free hand so he can let it wander over you. He touches you up along your thigh as you place a pillow under your pregnant belly, takes his time holding you tightly, “Get hotter and hotter every day, mi amor.”

You press your ass back into his crotch, cunt throbbing with impatience as you hear the tiny groan that he lets out. He is so hard against the roundness of your behind, cocktip leaking steadily against your warm skin when he grinds right back into you. 

“Put it in,” you plead softly. Your hands come up to grip his forearm that is secured just above your tits, “Javi, please. I need it so bad.”

He is silent behind you as he works. The anticipation is unbearable when it is mixed with the unnerving need to have an outlet for all the intense emotions that you have just been through, your pussy quivering in desperation to be deliciously stretched out to transform your feelings into something physical. 

Suddenly, you feel the thick head of his cock between your thighs and you ready yourself for intrusion. Luckily, he doesn’t make you wait, guides himself into you in a slow motion until he is fully sheathed inside you. 

“Fuck,” you whine as quietly as you can, nails digging his arm from how hard you are gripping it.

“I know, ahh fuck, shhh,” he soothes but the way his voice sounds makes you believe that he is just as close to losing his mind, “Be quiet, baby. Just let me make you feel fucking amazing. Need a pillow between your knees too?”

You nod, and he is right there with his own pillow to help you get even more comfortable in bed with him. God, why were you even fighting? Something about cake? Either way, it seems beyond ridiculous. 

His nose is in your neck, his hand travels up to cup your breast and then he moves his body for a very first thrust inside of you. It makes your eyes nearly roll back into your skull when he keeps the pace lazy and deep, barely pulling out with each roll of his hips. 

“You feel so good,” he praises whilst mouthing along the most sensitive spot on your neck, “Makes me never wanna leave. Wanna live here.”

“Inside me?” You chuckle breathlessly. 

“Forever,” he gives you a slightly harder thrust, the first where the noise of his skin slapping against yours resonates through the bedroom. You moan in surprise, and he hushes you once more, “Don’t let them wake up and think momma is in pain.”

“Definitely not in pain.”

Javier lets out the quietest laugh. It’s almost unfair how good he is at keeping it down compared to you, but you don’t think you’ll mind having his big palm cover your mouth if you end up causing trouble. It almost happens when he pinches an overly sensitive nipple, making it harden immediately under his touch. 

“Help me spread my legs a little more,” you beg at a low decibel. 

The hand on your tit gropes obscenely and shakes for a moment before it slips down and caresses your belly on the way. Still lying on your side, he smacks the fleshiest part of where your ass and thigh meet before he cups the back of your knee so he can lift.

The move gives you the access you need to rub your cunt, two fingers going in taut little circles around the swollen nub. You rock with him too, and it goes on until you come with your back arched, releasing a short and hot breath that you didn’t notice you had been holding until it turns into a loud and accidental moan. 

“That’s my girl,” he moans too as you clench rhythmically and choke his dick when you release the built-up tension. When your orgasm reaches its peak, Javier’s hand on your shoulder moves to cover your mouth at the fear of you making enough noise to have the door burst open with unwelcome visitors, “I know it’s hard, mi vida, but - shit - but be quiet.”

You take the opportunity to let out a drawn-out and helpless cry into his hand as the sweet pleasure goes on for a few moments more. Then you slump, and he gently moves your leg down again to put less strain on your body. 

“My God,” he talks into your ear, thrusts never slowing down and you swear that you can feel his cock jump with every weak noise you make, “I love you so much. Love your little cunt too, she takes me so well.”

Javier’s hand comes down to grip the extra pounds on your hips. He tugs at the flesh almost painfully, but your exhaustion and dopamine overload are making you too delirious to notice that it’s to the point of bruising. He holds tight and uses the grasp that he has on you to pull you down onto his cock over and over. 

It takes no time to make a second orgasm stir in the pits of your stomach. Your moans change once more as your body starts responding to him fucking you so hard. 

“You think you can come again?” He rasps into your ear, and when the head of his cock slides teasingly over your favorite little spot inside of yourself, you nod frantically and it feels like you are about to cry actual tears. Fuck yes, you can come as many times as he wants. 

“Mhm, won’t take long,” you whimper and use all your willpower to lift your leg over your husband’s thigh until you are spread widely. Your belly is still comfortably supported in the new position, but now that your front is stretched taut and fully exposed like a well-trained and submissive animal, it enhances the feeling of Javier gliding over your g-spot repeatedly.

Javier removes the arm that he has caged you in with, but whereas it gives you a moment to heave a breath of air into the very bottom of your lungs, he quickly takes it away from you as he reaches up with his other hand to grab your throat. He doesn’t squeeze like he normally would when you are not pregnant, but the anticipation of him doing it makes your head swim. 

And then he is absolutely brutal in his thrusts, and before you know it, you are coming with your clit untouched and a strangled sob. The convulsions are so intense that your thighs shake, your toes curl and your eyes screw shut. 

You reach up to put your hand on the back of Javier’s head, holding on tightly as he pounds into you from behind throughout your orgasm. The way he pants tells you that he is close, and when you yank the tiny curls at the nape of his neck, he starts to chase his release. 

“Javi,” you whisper loudly as he slams into your sensitive cunt, “Give it to me. Pleasepleaseplease. Need you to fill me up.”

“Fu— oh shit,” Javier swears in a low, rough growl as he snaps his hips a few last times before stilling inside of you. He feels impossibly big inside your cunt as he pumps you full of his come, cockhead resting at your cervix and coating you in warmth. 

“Jesus, we’re terrible at being quiet,” you whisper as he pants. You let your leg come down onto the other once again, a giggle suddenly building up in your chest. He starts laughing whilst still inside of you, hugging you tightly into his chest and nuzzling his nose into your cheek.

“They sleep through it, don’t gotta worry about it much anymore, I think,” he notes without care, kissing your cheek repeatedly despite still not having calmed his breath. You smile widely as you stare at the ceiling, overtaken by the love you feel for him every time he gets you to post-orgasmic bliss. 

“We need a date night soon though, Jesus. Perhaps Pop could take the kids home with him tomorrow after dinner and I could… do this again,” he smacks your ass playfully, then strokes your hip in soothing circles, and you almost purr like a cat at the gentle move, “Without a mute button on my pretty wife’s mouth, of course.”

“I’d like that,” you say with a soft and sweet sigh, acknowledging his attempt to make things from earlier up to you, “Been a while since you’ve made me scream. Wanna take our time.” 

Javier reaches down between you to pull out before he is completely soft. You hiss at being left empty when you are so spent, but Javier quickly distracts you with another string of kisses to your cheek and the corner of your mouth. He adds to the fantasy, “And then I’ll draw you a bath and you can spend as much time alone as you want. Don’t gotta be no one to anyone.” 

He moves on the bed as far as his arm that’s trapped beneath you allows him, going for the packet of wet wipes you keep on the nightstand. He had suggested them when it had become too hard during your third trimester for you to get out of bed after sex. He hands you a few and you hold them over your mound, enjoying the coolness of them.

“You know the way to my heart,” you say, wiggling a little and feeling his come seep out. It makes your nose crinkle.

“Well, I did convince you to marry me,” he replies. 

“Worst decision I’ve ever made,” you tease. Javier wraps his other arm around you, hand splayed on your belly. 

The position you are in is uncomfortable; Javier’s arm underneath you has got to be asleep by now and you feel damp with sweat due to him being like a furnace against your back.

Still, you both drift off slowly into the soundest sleep. You don’t wake up until two unexpected visitors barge in at the most ungodly hours of the morning, causing you to scramble for the blanket to cover your bodies up and hide the come-stained wet wipes in the nightstand drawer.

.

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[irb-pascalito-99]

Worship You

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 5.7 k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Summary: After she experiences a death in the family, Joel tries to give his girl some space to grieve. When she tells him all she wants is him, he makes sure to show her how much he cares about her.

Warnings: grief, mentions of death, mentions of driving under the influence, smut, unprotected p in v, creampie

A/N: This is an excerpt from chapter fourteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing please visit a03.

By the time we finally get to Joel’s house, the sun is beginning to rise. The girls are asleep upstairs when we get in, but Tommy and Maria wait in the living room for us.

When I enter the room Tommy stands up, walks across the room, and gives me a hug. I stand with my arms at my side as he holds me for a minute.

“I’m so sorry,” Tommy says as he squeezes me. I blink a couple times, my tired eyes hurting from fighting the sleep that I need.

When Tommy pulls away he holds my shoulders and analyzes me for a moment. I can feel all the eyes in the room on me, waiting for some sort of reaction. I take a step away from Tommy so he will let go of me.

“Anyone hungry?” I ask. I walk past Maria and Tommy into the kitchen, looking at the contents of Joel’s fridge for something to cook. “I could really use some dinner, but I guess at this point maybe breakfast is the better call…”

The others follow after me as I pull the eggs out of the fridge and grab some bread, cinnamon, and sugar out of the pantry. Joel says my name softly to get my attention while I search the cabinets for some bowls.

“French toast sounds good to me, anyone else want some?” I glance over at the others. Tommy looks confused while Maria and Joel share a similar look of concern. “No?”

Joel says my name again. I pull my attention away from him, grabbing an egg and cracking it into one of the bowls I pulled out. I feel Joel walk up behind me. He grabs the second egg out of my hand before I can add it to the bowl with the other. He holds my hand still as he says my name again.

“You need to sleep,” he says softly.

“But I’m making french toast,” I say. I keep my eyes on the counter.

“I’ll make you french toast when you wake up,” Joel responds.

“It’s already tomorrow though,” I retort. “I have work, Ellie has school. There’s no time to sleep.”

“Work and school can wait for another day. They’ll understand.” I let Joel pull me away from the kitchen, but he doesn’t get farther than the living room. Maria and Tommy stand back and watch our conversation.

“I don’t have anywhere to sleep,” I say, continuing to argue.

I can feel how heavy my eyes are, but I’m not ready to sleep. Sleep cements everything that just happened into reality. I have too much to do, and I don’t want to think of what dreams may bring me.

“You can sleep in my room, I’ll stay on the couch until you guys are ready to go home.” I shake my head. I can’t take Joel’s room from him, even though I know he won’t let me refuse.

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I’ll give you some of my clothes to sleep in, and we can stop by your house when you wake up for new clothes.” I try to wrack my brain for other excuses.

“There’s too much else to do. I have to get my car from the school. I have to tell Bill and Frank. I have to call Ellie’s school. I have to call the funeral home. I have to write the obituary.” I count each item on my fingers, staring at the floor as I think of more items to add. Joel places a finger under my chin and tilts my head up to look at him.

“Sleep first, we’ll figure out the rest later.” He says with a look in his eyes telling me there’s no room for argument. I sigh and let him direct me toward the stairs. He keeps his hand pressed lightly between my shoulder blades as he walks behind me up the stairs.

I can barely hear the muttered voices of Maria and Tommy downstairs as Joel drags me away. When we get to his room he walks me inside and lets go of me as he closes the door. He turns away to start rifling through his drawers for something I can wear to sleep in.

I hadn’t thought about the fact that I didn’t have clothes at his house before. We may be together in some sense, but every time I’ve spent the night before we slept with our naked bodies tangled in the sheets. It feels more intimate to be wearing his clothes to bed.

I start to take my clothes off while his back is still turned to me, figuring it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. He immediately averts his eyes when he turns around to see me standing in only my underwear. I feel a rush of rejection at the movement. He’s never looked away before. Joel clears his throat and holds the shirt and sweatpants out to me.

“Here you go, might be a little bit but it should do.” He keeps his eyes on the floor, even when I take the clothes from his hand.

He doesn’t look in my direction until I’ve pulled both the shirt and sweatpants over my body. It feels absurd that only 24 hours ago I had my mouth wrapped around his cock while he slept and now he can’t even look at me while I change. I can’t tell if it hurts more or if I’m angry that he's treating me like I'm delicate.

“I’ll be downstairs,” Joel says motioning his head to the door. “You get some sleep.”

He walks to the doorway while I stand in the middle of the room watching him. What just happened?

“Joel,” I call after him when he opens the door to leave. He turns his head in my direction. “Thanks for the clothes.”

“You’re welcome,” he says and leaves the room.

—

We spent the first full day after my father’s death at Joel’s house. Despite my attempts to keep things normal, my friends are constantly watching me as though I’m seconds away from falling apart. I know it stems from a place of concern, but it only sets me more on edge. My every move is being observed and analyzed. Everyone is walking around me like they’re walking on eggshells. I don’t know how to convince them I’m fine without them thinking I’m in denial.

Ellie still doesn’t want to go home yet, so Joel offered to let us stay at his house at least until after the funeral. Maria comes by in the mornings and doesn’t leave until after we all go to bed. Joel sleeps on the couch. I haven’t been alone with him since he handed me his clothes to sleep in the morning we came back from the hospital.

When Joel offered to let me sleep in his room, I thought he would make his way into the bed after the others had fallen asleep. After the awkwardness of when he handed me his clothes, I thought maybe he just wanted to give me some space to actually sleep for a bit, or maybe he was concerned about others perceiving the relationship we’ve attempted to keep quiet. I held out hope that maybe come night time when everyone left I’d feel the warmth of his body next to mine again. I stayed awake for hours that night, just in case, but he never came. It’s been a couple days since then, and still nothing.

Today I have to do a couple of errands to ensure things are ready for the funeral tomorrow, the first of which is picking up clothes from the house. Maria stopped by the house a couple of days ago to pick up clothes for Ellie and I to where while we stay at Joel’s, but I haven’t been back since I left with Joel to pick up Ellie and Sarah from their trip.

Maria parks the car in the driveway alongside mine and, upon my insistence, waits outside for me while I go in. On top of the lingering stares, and the constant pressure of being surrounded by people, between Maria and Joel I have not been allowed to drive at all in the last several days. They went so far as to pick up my car from the school parking lot while I was asleep that first morning. They brought it back here after and hid the keys.

When I go inside the house it seems exactly the same as it always does. Mine and Ellie’s things are strewn about the various rooms. I’ll have to make sure to come back and clean before we have the wake here tomorrow. Sunlight streams through the open blinds, sending beams of light across the hardwood floors. I feel like I’m disturbing things in a way, like our home has been preserved in a world before the news and my presence forces the grief upon the space.

I move slowly up the stairs, taking in the tranquility of my surroundings. I don’t have to watch myself here, I can just be. I go to Ellie’s room first, delicately opening the drawers to her dresser. I thumb through various shirts until I find the black sweater she wore to our mother’s funeral.

I run my fingers over the soft cotton of the yarn. I remember her tears that day, the way she refused to look at me for weeks after the accident. I remember asap the fights we had in the months I first moved back. She used to scream at me and remind me that I’m not her mother.

We’ve made so much progress since then. It’s been hard to get the relationship to where it is now, but I can’t help but wonder if we’re headed back to that kind of relationship with the passing of our dad. She’s been so quiet since his passing, it’s hard to read where she’s at. I do my best to push the thought out of my head as I grab the black slacks that finish her outfit and move on to grab mine.

I keep my funeral dress in the back of my closet. A simple black piece with short sleeves, it used to be a dress I would wear regularly. I can’t stand to look at it now, the memory of my mother’s loss dripping off of its fabric. I made sure to save it for the next one though. I grab a small bag from my closet and throw Ellie’s clothes, along with my dress and a pair of opaque tights and black heels, inside.

I glance at my bed from the doorway before I leave. Joel took the time to make it before we went to pick up the girls that afternoon. I stood back and watched him after he declared I wasn’t doing it right. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration as he tucked the corners in neatly. I close my eyes and sigh as I move on.

The last of my father’s things are hidden in the far corner of the closet in the art studio. We kept his nicest suit in a garment bag there, anticipating the need for exactly this, the outfit he will wear to his own funeral. Because the room was originally the master bedroom, the closet is large and I’ve put a lot of things inside to store. Which means I have to walk past stacks of art, both mine and my mother’s, to get to the bag I’m looking for.

The large canvas Joel and I painted last weekend rests by the door among my stack of Joel paintings. My eyes linger on its bright colors as I pass. It feels silly to be so insecure after only days of little romantic interaction with him. It’s not like he’s gone, or even like he’s ignoring me. I see him everyday. I talk to him every day. He shows me he cares every day. However, I can’t help but play the moment with the clothes over in my mind again. I remind myself of his absence in the bed each night. I know there’s a possibility he’s just trying to maintain our secret, but I can’t help wondering if he sees me as weak now. What if that spark is gone?

I tear my eyes away from the painting and grab what I need. Then I turn out the lights and head back down the stairs. When I walk outside with the two bags in my hands. Maria rushes to my side to grab one of the bags when I pause to lock the door again. I ignore the way my stomach clenches in frustration. She just wants to help, but I can’t help feeling like everyone is treating me as though I’m fragile.

We put the bags in the back seat of her car. I don’t look at her as I get in the passenger seat, eyes peering at my car in the driveway next to hers. A lump forms in my throat as I continue to fight against my anger. They won’t even let me drive my own car.

“You good?” Maria asks as she gets in beside me. Her eyes scan my face while I adjust my seat belt.

“Yeah, let’s go.” I reply, keeping my eyes on the front windshield. Maria looks over me once more before putting on her own seatbelt and pulling out of the driveway.

Despite my arguments against it, Maria does go into the funeral home with me. She follows me awkwardly through the building, observing my every movement. She stays quiet, but always just a step behind, while the funeral director asks me questions and we pick out options for the service.

I wasn’t very present with the planning for my mother’s funeral. Bill and Frank took over most of that for me, claiming I needed to focus my energy on Ellie. It was a reprieve I gladly accepted then, but one I refuse now. It’s nice to have something to do, to have a distraction amidst it all.

A good number of things had already been decided beforehand since his health had been declining for so long. The last steps are really just finalizing the details. Who will be performing the service? Where? Which coffin did we want to use? What will he wear for the viewing? Working out the details has given me a chance for some normalcy in my life while everyone attempts to get me to step back. Even now, when we drop off the clothes my father is to wear at the viewing tomorrow. I’m acutely aware of Maria’s wandering stare beside me.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks, her hands toying with the edges of the garment bag I’ve placed on the counter. I drum my fingers across the counter while we wait for the funeral director to come get the clothes so we can be on our way.

It’s just the two of us in the empty showroom up front. The funeral director went to the backroom for a moment to put the file of our selections away. She offered to bring me back there as well, to give me a chance to view the body before tomorrow. I declined. I don’t want to see him, not now and not at the viewing tomorrow. I just want this to be over. My refusal just seemed to set Maria more on edge.

“I’m fine,” I respond. I keep my attention on the door to the back room.

“It’s okay if you’re not…” Maria pushes. My fingers tighten on the edge of the counter. I take a deep breath and try to keep the bitterness out of my voice when I speak again.

“I said I’m fine okay?” There’s some movement through the window in the door to the bathroom as the funeral director makes her way back to us. “I know he died, but he’s been gone for a while. This doesn’t change anything. If anything, it’s for the best actually.”

Maria and I both go silent when the director comes back out to collect the rest of our items. Maria’s eyes don’t leave the back of my head as the director and I discuss the last few details before the funeral tomorrow. I try to ignore the way her eyes burn into me as I talk.

I walk quickly when we leave, Maria trailing behind me with the car keys in her hand. I wait at the passenger door of her locked car in the parking lot while she catches up with me.

“What do you mean it’s for the best?” Maria asks when she gets to the car. She doesn’t unlock the doors. I sigh and stare up at the sky.

“Maria…” I huff, but she isn’t letting go.

“What do you mean it’s for the best?” She asks again.

I debate on taking off and walking instead. Despite the fact it’s still early February, the weather is extremely nice. There’s a slight chill to the air but with the sun it should be warm enough to walk. That is, if I knew Maria wouldn’t follow me down the road in her car.

“I mean, even if he had by some miracle lived, he would have gone to prison,” I say. Maria and I stare at each other over the hood of the car. She looks concerned, but doesn't judge as I continue. “He decided to drive drunk and he killed two people, now he’s dead. It really is the best possible outcome for him. His little angel will clean up all the pieces for him. The rest of us just go on living and he never has to face the consequences of his actions.”

The weight of what I’ve said lingers in the air. It sounds callous, said out loud. I’m not even sure if that’s the full extent of what I’m feeling right now, but it’s the simplest version to explain. Mourning him doesn’t feel right, so I won’t. I settle on the anger instead, partially because it’s so overwhelming in the face of everything else, and partially because I don’t want to deal with the rest of my grief.

“He’s still your dad,” Maria says quietly. I bite my lip and look away. I know she’s right, but I can’t think of it that way.

“Maria, just drop it.” I plead quietly. She exhales and unlocks the door. I immediately open it and get inside.

—

Joel already has dinner prepared when we get home from our errands. Everyone sits down to eat together, but we maintain an awkward silence through the whole meal. Maria’s eyes keep glancing over at me as I shovel potatoes in my mouth and keep my eyes on the table. Tommy watches the friction between us from his seat beside Maria. He looks as though he wants to say something, but has no idea how to bring it up.

Ellie sits next to Sarah, quietly playing with her food. She hasn’t eaten much lately, but she takes bites from time to time so there’s something fueling her. Joel and I sit on opposite ends of the table. He watches everyone closely, noting the tension in the air as he cuts a piece of his pork chop.

“Is there anything you need help with for tomorrow?” Joel asks, his eyes on me. I look up at him, his expression soft as he offers his help.

“No,” I reply, trying to keep any emotion out of my voice.

“How was-“ Joel tries to ask but I cut him off.

“It was fine. I’m fine.” It comes out harsher than I meant it to.

I can see Joel and Maria exchange a glance in my periphery, which makes the anger turn in my stomach again. I take another bite of my food and get up to clear my plate. I rinse the dish and leave it in the sink before heading upstairs without speaking to the others.

A couple of hours after we all go our separate ways I hear the quiet sound of the doorknob turning and then a gentle click as it latches behind whoever entered the room. I don’t turn to see who it is. Moments later, the mattress sinks under the weight of another body as someone lays down next to me.

“You asleep?” Joel whispers. His breath fans against my shoulder. I nearly sob at the sound of his voice.

“No,” I whisper back. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest.

I close my eyes as I feel his face bury into my hair. He presses soft kisses to the back of my head. His hands rub gently up and down my arms. I inhale the scent of vanilla and wood I’ve come to associate with Joel’s presence.

“I really am fine you know,” I murmur. He kisses my hair again.

“I know,” he whispers back. I have a feeling he doesn’t fully believe me, or maybe he does but doesn’t expect it to last. Either way I don’t attempt to convince him any further.

I retreat into him, allowing his gentle caresses to pull out the most vulnerable sides of me. It’s exhausting trying to keep up the balancing act, being sad enough that my friends don’t think I’m psychotic while not being so sad that they think I’m drowning in grief. It has felt like I’m putting on a show instead of simply existing ever since my father passed. I’m too tired now, and Joel’s warmth is too comforting to keep up the facade.

“I’ve missed you,” I say into the dark room. Joel’s fingers brush against my arm again.

“I’ve been here,” he says. I shake my head.

“Not like this.” I murmur. Joel’s hand moves up my arm to pull the hair out of my face. He kisses the skin under my ear.

I turn my body around in the bed to face him. His hair falls in messy curls around his face. He’s wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. He maintains a soft expression on his face, but I notice a hesitancy in him. I softly press my lips against the patch in his beard.

“I don’t want to push you.” Joel murmurs as I move my lips to his. I kiss him softly, our noses brushing against each other. “I don’t want it to be like how it was when Ellie was in the hospital. That wasn’t fair to you.”

I don’t understand what he means by ‘it wasn’t fair to me’. I wanted to be with him at that time just as much as he wanted to be with me. I didn’t feel like he pushed me to do anything, why would he?

“I know you have a lot on your mind right now,” Joel continues. “I don’t want you to think I expect anything. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to. That’s not what this is for me.”

“I want you,” I mumble against his lips. I kiss him again. My lips are firmer against his this time as I swipe my tongue against his bottom lip. “Please, I want you. I’m not weak or broken. I can drive my own car and make my own decisions. I want you.”

I try to be patient, to let him lead, but I wrap my hand around the thick muscles of his arm anyway. Going from an entire weekend of constant intimacy with Joel to nearly a week without touching him has made me hungry for his attention. His hands spread across my back, holding me delicately as he allows me to take what I need.

“You have me,” He responds while resting his forehead against mine.

“I want more of you. I need more.” I’m feeling desperate now. It’s not enough to be beside Joel, to feel his body wrapped around mine. One of his hands leaves my back and travels down to my bare thigh.

I’m only wearing panties and the oversized t-shirt he let me borrow to sleep in on the first night here. When he looks down at my clothing it’s as though he just now realized I’m wearing it. He grips my thigh harder, eyes darkening with lust when he pulls me in for another kiss.

His tongue slides into my mouth as I pull at the fabric of the shirt he is wearing, fighting to get him closer despite his entire body being pressed tightly against mine. He breaks the kiss only to allow me the space to pull the shirt over his head and then begin to kiss my neck softly.

Joel takes his time with all of it, his fingers delicately sliding under my shirt to glide against my bare skin. I twitch when his thumbs brush my nipples.

“Joel,” I whine. I push my hips against him, his hardening length making contact with my core.

He growls at the feeling, his hands squeezing me harder. He climbs on top of me, finally pulling my panties down my legs. I whine and attempt to grind against him but Joel presses my hips back down to the bed.

“Patience baby, let me do this for you.” I lose myself in his eyes, his hand slowly snaking between my thighs.

There’s something different about the way he touches me tonight. Each brush of his hand is deliberate. Just the slightest movement sends sparks across my skin. He doesn’t break eye contact with me as he runs his finger through my folds. I push my head back a little, my lips parting though I’m careful to keep my eyes on his.

There’s a deeper connection between us this time around. His eyes communicate with mine wordlessly as he begins to rub circles against my bundle of nerves. He puts all his energy into showing me the words that fail him. It makes me squirm, not just from the pleasure he’s providing me but from the emotions involved in all of it. It’s too much to handle, too much to feel right now.

I move my hand down and pull him out of his underwear, hoping to pull some of his attention off of me. He hisses through his teeth when I grip his cock. I twist my wrist as I move my hand slowly up and down his shaft. His hips chase my hand despite the way his hand grips my wrist to get me to stop.

“Enough,” he growls, squeezing my wrist as I pump him again.

“Then fuck me already,” I whisper back. He pulls my hand off of him and pushes his boxers the rest of the way down.

I spread my legs further apart so he can nestle in between them. He rests against me, rubbing his swollen head through my folds as it leaks pre-come. I whine as he runs his length over where I need him most, but doesn’t push inside.

“Joel,” I plead. I push my hips up, the tip of him breaching my hole. He shivers as I pull him in, not moving from where he rests against me.

“Okay, okay sweetheart.” He keeps one hand on his cock as the other grabs my leg and hitches it around his waist. I have to bite my lip to keep from calling out as he pushes inside. My eyes flutter shut, but his fingers squeeze my leg and he pauses his movement. “Oh no you don’t. Keep your eyes on me darlin’.”

I force my eyes open again to make contact with his. He continues in one long, slow, motion until his hips are flush with mine. I expect him to immediately drive into me with the intense passion he normally does, but when I’m completely full of him he freezes again.

He drops his head to my shoulder and I huff in frustration as I wait for him to move. I can feel every ridge and vein of him as I pulse around his length, my wetness dripping around him. The house is silent aside from our hushed breaths. I’m desperate for some sort of motion, but he does not grant it to me.

I start to move instead, pressing my hips up and down the best I can while stuck between his body and the mattress. I go fast, settling for short bursts as I desperately try to get enough friction to build the pressure in my core again.

Joel pulls back slightly to give me more room, but it’s not enough. None of it is enough. He watches me through hooded eyes while I desperately attempt to set a good pace.

“Baby,” Joel murmurs. I feel something vaguely simmering inside me, but it’s nothing like what Joel normally provides. He mutters my name and grabs my hips, pressing them back to the mattress. I throw my head back on the pillow as he stills my movements. “Not like this, not tonight.”

He pulls out of me and kneels back on the bed, looking over my form carefully. I adjust my body on the bed, self conscious from his observing eyes.

“As much as I love this on you,” Joel says, tugging at the shirt that covers me. “I need to see all of you.”

He pulls his shirt over my head and throws it on the floor. I am bare to him now, his eyes roving over me not in lust but in worship. He looks over my body but stares into my soul. His hands skim my form delicately before he positions himself over me again and presses a delicate kiss to my lips.

I watch closely as his lips trail down my entire body. He kisses softly at my skin as though he’s trying to memorize how my skin feels pressed against his lips. He kisses down my neck, over my shoulders, across my chest. My stomach tenses as he kisses further down my body. I jolt when he lightly presses against my core, not in a sexual way like he has before but gentle and loving. He moves to my thighs next and down my legs, then back up again until he reaches my hips once more.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers to me and lines himself back up with my center. I pull my arms around his neck, my eyes staring into his as I await his next move.

He cages me in with his body, wrapping my legs around his waist while his arms rest on either side of my head, holding his upper body above me. He pushes back inside me with a languid thrust and sets his pace.

I moan against him, finally getting the reprieve I need. His hands grip the sheets by my head while he watches my face contort in pleasure. I pull lightly at the ends of his hair, my toes curling as I gasp. I start to lose myself in the feeling of him, allowing the warmth of his body to float me away to some other place.

His body melts into mine. I’m no longer aware of where he ends and I begin. He doesn’t retreat fully, not wanting to leave my body long enough to do so. He thrusts slow and deep, each one knocking the breath out of me. We share the air between us, our breaths mingling in soft pants as he cages me in. The world fades away until all I feel is him. All I see is him. All I know is him.

Sex with Joel has always been great, but this is on another level. The word sex can’t even encapsulate what is happening right now between us. This time it’s not about finding release, or the pleasure that builds in my stomach. This time it’s about the way I can feel the sweat on his skin and each pulse of his member inside me. It doesn’t take long for him to bring me back to the precipice of my orgasm.

I feel tears well in my eyes as I clench around him. It’s everything I needed and too much at the same time. I thought this would provide me a distraction from my grief. Instead Joel holds me like he’s trying to prove how much he truly sees me, trying to prove he’s here to help me hold the burden.

I’ve never felt this vulnerable. It scares me that he doesn’t look away. If anything he seems to hold me closer. The hand that rests by my head moves closer to my face, his thumb brushing the tear on my cheek away. He moves his thumb out of the way to press a kiss to my tear stained cheek.

“I’m gonna-“ he says hoarsely, his lips ghosting my cheek.

“Me too,” I reply. It feels like my entire being is about to explode, and despite how overwhelming the experience already is I need to know what it feels like to be one with him. I desperately want to feel every last moment of this. I don’t want it to end. “Do it inside, please.”

He looks at me with wide eyes, a silent question of ‘Are you sure?’ passing between us. He knows I’m on the pill, but we’ve always been extra careful. We have enough going on with Ellie and Sarah that we don't need to risk any other surprises. Right now, nothing else matters but having all of him.

I nod my head, giving him a final approval. We keep our eyes on each other as he groans and I feel his warmth begin to release inside me. I let go as well. His body wraps tighter around me as I pulse around him. He pushes deeper while ribbons of his seed spread inside me. We kiss passionately, our lips pressed hard against each other as both of us struggle to stay quiet with the pleasure coursing through our bodies.

Once the shockwaves begin to subside, and Joel’s twitching frame subsides into one of heavy pants, he drops his forehead to mine. He holds me close while he rolls us onto our sides, keeping one of my legs hooked around his waist so he doesn’t slip out. I fall asleep with him still inside me, his body intertwined with mine in every way.

To read more visit a03

[angel2el]

Blackened Haze (Elvis Presley) - PART ONE -- "Sunset"

My gosh I'm so excited to share this with you all. It's a story that explores a possibility where a reader, Elvis's longtime girlfriend, is there to help him through his mother's death and work towards happiness and peace. This is a bit sad at first. I will say I felt a little solemn at times. But I am proud of it and I love it and I hope you all do too. I love you all so, so much. I do not have a taglist but if you would like me to tag you at the next parts I will. The colonel is mentioned but is not a villain due to the fact that at this point, he and Elvis had good relations.

“I came as soon as I heard you were here,” you say softly as you enter the hospital’s private waiting room Elvis is in.  He’s sitting on the blue couch with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands when you first walk in, but he lifts his head up when he hears your voice.

“Hi, honey,” he says, voice raspy and weak, waving his hand for you to come over.  You approach him and set your flowers on the table in front of you two before sitting down.

“How is she?” You ask.  His mother was admitted three days ago, and he’d arrived around twelve hours ago.   It’s 4 in the morning now and Elvis doesn’t look like he’s slept a wink yet.  You put a hand on his forehead to brush his hair out of his face.  He doesn’t look like he’s been crying, but he’s pale and his eyes are bloodshot from a lack of sleep.

“They haven’t told me nothing,” he says.  His voice is still low and glum.  You move your hand to his cheek.

“Have you slept at all?” You ask, moving your thumb up and down his cheek.

“Not yet,” he says.

“Lay your head on my lap and try to sleep some,” you say, scooting away so he has enough room to lay down.

“I..I can’t.  What if somethin’ happens to her while I’m asleep?” he asks, rubbing his eyes.

“I’ll wake you up if anything happens.  I promise,” you say.  “You need to get some sleep or you’ll barely be able to make it through tomorrow.”  You put your hand on his waist and gently start to ease him down.  He hesitates at first, but eventually complies, resting his head on your lap.  “Just relax,” you say, putting a hand on his shoulder.  You feel his body heave with a shaky sigh.  You can feel his nerves, how hot he is from the stress, the cold sweat on the back of his neck.  He can’t even be with his mother right now because Vernon is with her.  That must be the hardest part.  She’s everything to him.

You can’t imagine what life would be like without her.  You both know she’s very, very sick.  But your heart won’t let you think about losing the sweet, loving woman who welcomed you with open arms into their home when you and Elvis first started dating, and again welcomed you into Graceland when you moved in.  The woman who always cared for you, and more importantly, for Elvis.  She’s his best friend.  The person he’s closest to in the whole world.  He wouldn’t be able to go on without her.

You calm yourself out of the thoughts of losing her by closing your eyes and rubbing his shoulder up and down, trying to think more positive thoughts.  Gladys is going to live.  She’s going to get better.  You blink slowly, tiredly as you keep your touch on him, feeling him start to fall asleep.  He’s exhausted.  He may have been up for over 24 hours at this point, considering he’d been in the car most of yesterday, stressing about Gladys.  Your chest aches with sympathy at the thought of his suffering over the last few days.  Luckily, he’d been granted leave from army training to see his mother.  But that didn’t do much to ease the fear and pain.  You look at his hands, which were shaking slightly.  His nails are bitten down well below his nailbeds, a nervous habit he’d developed as a teen.  You hear him sigh softly.  He was asleep now.  Thank goodness.  You lean your own head back and close your eyes, letting your breathing slow.  You hadn’t been up nearly as long as Elvis, but you’d barely been able to sleep these past few days knowing Gladys was suffering and Elvis was too.  A call had come at 3am this morning telling you Elvis was at the hospital now and had been for eleven hours, so you drove as fast as you could to the hospital to meet him.  Exhaustion and fear wracked your mind, just like him.  For Gladys, and for Elvis.  You put a hand on your forehead and try to calm yourself.  Gladys was going to live.  Everything was going to be okay.  You keep repeating that until deep, dreamless sleep welcomes you.

When you wake up to the waiting room’s door opening, Elvis is still in your lap.  You can tell it's been a long time because you’re absolutely starving.  You put your hand on his head and pat it as you watch a nurse with a tray of food approach the two of you.  Elvis shifts, slowly sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Honey?” he says, turning to you.

“I’m here.”  Your hand goes to his shoulder.

The nurse sets down a tray with two bowls of oatmeal in front of you, pushing your pink flowers – Gladys’ favorite color – aside.  “You two need to eat something.  Haven’t had a bite since you arrived,” she says sweetly.

“Is there any news?” Elvis asks.

The nurse shakes her head.  “I’m not your mama’s nurse, Mr. Presley.  I just got assigned to bring you food.  I don’t know anything.”

Elvis swallows and nods slowly.  “What…what time is it?”

“6pm.  You slept nearly fourteen hours.”

Elvis nods again, but he looks a little guilty.  “You needed it, baby,” you say, handing his spoon to him.  “You need to eat.”  The nurse leaves.

Elvis looks down at his oatmeal.  He doesn’t seem that interested in it, but you pick it up and set it in his hands anyways.  “I know you’re not hungry, but you gotta have something.”  You take a bite of your own oatmeal.  It wasn’t delicious, but you were starving.  

Elvis shook his head.  “My stomach’s in knots.  I can’t eat a thing.”

“I know.  You have to try.”  You take his spoon to scoop up a bite for him, putting it up to his mouth.  He eats it.  You can tell it instantly makes him realize how hungry he’d been.  “Eat the whole bowl,” you tell him, handing him the spoon and getting back to work on your own food.  Slowly, he nods and starts eating again.  It takes a great weight off your chest to see him eating.  You were a little worried about his state, but as he eats, a lot of color comes back into his face.  By the time he’s finished the bowl, you’re almost done with yours.  You take the last few bites and set down the empty bowl.

He looks a thousand times better now that he’s eaten.  “You feeling better?” You ask him, and he nods.

“It’s gonna be ok,” you say, pulling him into a hug and putting your hand on the back of his head.  You can feel his body relax against yours.

“I’m scared,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

“I know.  I know, Elvis.”  That’s all you can bring yourself to say, feeling emotional as he pours his feelings onto you.  You pull away from the hug and put your hands on the side of his face.  “We’re gonna get through this, ok?”

He nods.  “Ok.  Ok.”  You move your hands down to hold his, squeezing them.  His eyes look into yours.  He looks so tired and scared.  Younger than usual.  You smile at him, and he manages a weak smile back.

“Promise…promise me you’ll stay with me,” he asks, his voice trembling a little as he puts a hand on your cheek.

You nod.  “I will.  Forever.  I’ll stay with you no matter what.”  He visibly relaxes a little at this, like he’d been afraid of you leaving him.  You rub the side of his shoulder.  “You have nothing to worry about,” you promise, and he nods, sighing.  You open your mouth to talk more, but as you do, the door opens and a different nurse comes through.

“Mr. Presley?” she says.

“Yes?” Elvis turns to her, taking his hand off of you.

You turn to look at him.  His eyes are wide.

“Uh…your mother…she went into cardiac arrest,” the nurse says, tears starting to fill her eyes.

“What?” you ask.

“Her heart gave out.  She’s…gone.  I’m so sorry,” the nurse says, her voice breaking with sadness.  Gone?  The world stops for a moment, and you can’t feel anything, blinking over and over again until you snap out of it. 

You turn to Elvis.  He’s staring at the wall in front of him.  He swallows, but doesn’t move a muscle.  His eyes are wide.

You bite your lip to keep from crying.

“Would you like to see her and say goodbye, Mr. Presley?” the nurse asks.

Elvis’s lip starts to quiver and his brow furrows as he continues to stare at the wall.  You run your hand up his back.  He looks numb.  Incredibly disoriented.

“Elvis, honey,” you say, but he interrupts you.

“No.”  His voice is weak, but firm.  “She–she can’t be gone.”

You don’t know what to say, inhaling a shaky breath from your nose.  “I’m sorry,

honey,”  you say.

“She can’t be gone,” he repeats, turning to you.  You grab his hand.

“I’m so sorry,” you say.

“Mr. Presley, if you’d like to see her now, you can say your goodbyes,” the nurse repeats.  Elvis shakes his head.  It’s like he doesn’t believe this is real.

“Come on, honey,” You say, standing up.  He shakes his head, but you tug on him and he stands. He numbly follows, keeping your hand in his and his eyes on the floor.  As you walk out of the room, he opens his mouth as if to say something, but all that comes out is a shaky gasp.  You squeeze his hand.  “You’re okay.”

His jaw is shaking still as you follow the nurse into a private suite.  When she opens the door, Gladys is lying on the bed.  She looks peaceful.  She’s not breathing.  She is still.  Utterly lifeless.  It really hits you then, and you start to feel tears come down your cheeks.  Your eyes glance at the other side of the room, where Vernon is sitting, sobbing, with his head in his hands.  You look up at Elvis, who approaches the bed slowly and reaches for his mother’s hand.  When he feels her skin against his, reality smashes into him and he breaks.  He takes several fast, gasping breaths before he starts to cry.  He can’t stand anymore, dropping onto his knees with a thud and keeping Gladys’ hand in his.  His head is down but you can see the stream of tears and hear the violent, anguished, gasping sobs you’d never heard someone make before.  He mumbles something between his cries, but it’s unintelligible.  You squat beside him and put your hand on his back, feeling him shaking over and over again as cries wrack his body.

You can’t help but cry quietly beside him, feeling his grief.  Glancing over at Vernon, you see still has his head in his hands, unable to look at his wife or son.  You don’t know how long you stay like that.  Next to Elvis, listening to him cry and rubbing his back.  You’ve never seen someone so sad.  His sobs eventually turn to gasps and whines, and you look out the window and see the sun is starting to set.  Your feet are starting to go numb.  Elvis starts to quiet after a while, and the nurse speaks softly, gently.

“We have to take her to the morgue now, Mr. Presley,” she tells him.

“No,” he cries, squeezing her hand tighter.  You stand up a little and put your hands on his waist, trying to get him to stand up by pulling.  He’s stubborn, but weak, and you’re able to pull him to his feet.  He takes one look at his mother’s face and starts sobbing again.  He turns to you and you put your hand on his cheek.  His eyes and the area around them are red, contrasting his pale, tear-soaked face.  His breathing is too fast.  He’s not getting enough air.

“Elvis, sit down,” you tell him.  “You’re going to make yourself pass out, honey.”  You ease him towards the chair opposite Vernon’s, and he all but collapses into it.  “Breathe.  Slower,” you tell him as he bends over, putting his head in his hands.  You pat his back in a slow rhythm to try and get him to relax and regulate his breathing.  Vernon has stopped crying now and shakes hands with the nurse as she apologizes to him.  You don’t watch, but you hear the footsteps and the wheels start to roll as they take Gladys out of the room.  Elvis can’t hear it over his cries and gasps, but after a few minutes of you whispering to him and patting him gently, his breathing evens out and he looks up to see that she’s gone.  Vernon comes over.

“Son, we need to go now,” he says quietly.  You can see Elvis’s eyes are welling up with tears again.  “There’s—there’s a car waiting for us outside.”

You nod, taking Elvis’s hand and helping him up slowly.  You guide his arm around your shoulder.  There’s no way he can walk in this state on his own.  You follow Vernon to the exit of the hospital.  He’s silent, keeping his head down and shuffling slowly next to you as you make your way into the backseat of the car outside.  Elvis puts his head in his hands as the car takes off, and you keep your hand on the upper part of his back, pressing your other hand on his thigh.  The ride is silent save for Elvis’s small gasps between cries, and it goes by quickly.  As you pull up to Graceland, Vernon gets out of the car on his side and comes around to you and Elvis’s side, opening the door for the two of you.  Elvis looks up and takes his father’s hand to get out of the car and you follow, letting him put his arm around you again.  You silently take him upstairs and into his room, lowering him to the bed gently before sitting to the left of him.  He’s still crying, much quieter than before, but you can hear his shaky breaths and soft whimpers.  He’s on his side, trembling, with his back facing you. 

“Elvis,” you whisper softly.  It’s hard for you to keep your composure.  You’d known Gladys for six years, being Elvis’s girlfriend since senior year.  Losing her was painful for you, too.  But it was a million times more painful for Elvis, and it hurt you to see him suffering so much.  “Elvis, honey, you’re gonna be ok.”  You put your arm over his waist, resting on his stomach, and your other hand combs through his hair gently.

“I c-can’t live wi-without her.”  His stuttering cuts a hole in your heart, a reminder of the shy, nervous boy who was bullied for his speech impediment when he was younger.  He still stutters occasionally now, especially when he’s upset or tired.

“You will, baby,” You say.  He has to.  Your hand that was in his hair moves to his face, to his soft cheeks which are stained with tears that you wipe away.  You have a decent view of his face.  You’ve never seen him so sad in your life.  You’ve never seen anyone so sad.

“I can’t,” he cries, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks.  You wipe them again.

“You can.  You’ll go on,” you tell him, leaning down and kissing his temple.  “You’re gonna be ok.  I promise.”  It doesn’t stop his crying, but he does lean into your touch a little more.

The door bursts open, and you turn to see the Colonel and Vernon in the doorway.

“Elvis,” the Colonel says, “There’s some people who want to take some photographs outside.  The press.”

“N-no,” Elvis says, keeping his back to the door.

“Elvis…” Vernon says. 

“Just a few photographs.  They’re not going to do anything to hurt you,” the Colonel reassures him.

Elvis seems a little calmed at the Colonel’s words, and he slowly sits up and wipes his eyes.  “I’ll…I’ll go out f-for a few minutes,” he says.  You help him out of bed and walk with him behind the Colonel and Vernon down the stairs.  As he walks out the door with Vernon, you sit down at the bottom of the steps and put your head in your hands, letting yourself cry.  Gladys is gone.  Forever.  You hadn’t seen much of her over the past few months, temporarily moving back into your parents’ house when Elvis left, but when you came to Graceland to check in on Elvis’s parents while he was away, she was always sad, drinking or taking pills.  She was heartbroken when Elvis left.  She’d lost her first son and couldn’t bear the thought of losing her other.

As you cry, you feel a tap on your shoulder and look up to see the Colonel holding a glass of water.  “Thank you,” you mumble, taking a drink and wiping your mouth before handing the glass back to him.  He wordlessly nods sympathetically and walks away.  After a few minutes of staring at the door in front of you, it opens and Elvis comes back in.   You stand up and he comes into your arms. 

“You did good…you did good,” you tell him, rubbing your hand up and down his back.  He doesn’t respond.  He’s still shaking from head to toe, weak with grief, barely able to breathe from the pain clenching his throat and pressing on his chest.

“Come on, honey,” you say.  “Let’s go upstairs…”  You pull away from him, wrapping an arm around him, and guide him up the stairs and back into his room.  He collapses onto the bed, curling on his side again.  He’s stopped crying for now, numbly looking out the window and taking labored breaths with his arms over his chest.  He looks like he’s struggling to keep his eyes open.

There’s no point in trying to get him to change.  After everything that happened today, you worry that the effort could be too much.  You can give him a bath tomorrow and change him into something more comfortable.  At the very least, you’ll take off his shirt and pants, leaving him in his undershirt and boxers for the night.  Leaning down, you easily unbutton his pants, and he lets you slide them off.  Getting his shirt off is harder.  You have to pry his arms away from his chest to unbutton it and pull it off, setting it on the floor.  He crosses them again, still keeping his eyes in straight ahead.

“You’re gonna be ok.”  Your voice is soft and gentle, as reassuring as you can make it.  He looks up to you and shakes his head, his face crumpling and chest shaking visibly as he draws in a breath.  It’s the only night he’s ever spent in his life without his mama.

“I…I c-can’t sleep knowin’ she’s not here,” he whispers.  “We slept in the same bed till I was thirteen.  And now…” Tears start to stream down his face again, and you lay down behind him, kissing the nape of his neck.

“I know.  I know…” that’s all you can say.  He starts to sob again.  You don’t even know how he has it left in him.  He must be exhausted at this point, having cried for some five hours at this point, seeing as the sky is black now.

Your hand gently rubs his side back and forth, trying to soothe him, but you’re exhausted too.  “It’s gonna get better, baby,” you say softly, but he continues to sob and shake.  

“I can’t….I can’t live without her…I can’t,” he repeats over and over again between cries.  The pain of seeing him like this is palpable and exists on every level, aching in your chest, pounding in your head, gripping your throat.  

“It’s ok.  You’re ok.”  Your hand gently goes under his shirt, feeling the bare skin of his side.  He doesn’t feel like he’s the wrong temperature in any way.  That’s a good sign, but it does little to ease your worry for him as you closely feel his desperate breaths under your hand.  “Breathe, baby, breathe,” you urge him.  It’s like he physically can’t, like it’s not just grief that’s attacking him, but panic. 

“You have to calm down, Elvis.  You’re going to hurt yourself.  Please.”  Your begging does nothing.  He can’t stop crying.  He can’t relax even for a moment.  You resolve to continue rubbing up and down his side and whispering gently to him, reminding him that you’re there and you’ll stay.

When you look out the window, the stars are out but there’s no moon in the sky. Memphis is quiet save for Elvis’s raspy sobs and desperate gasps for air.  You put your head down on the pillow.  The only thing you can do is continue to be with him, praying that tomorrow will bring some form of peace to your troubled hearts.

But it doesn’t.

thank you for reading <3 I love you!

[sorrel-leaf-vespers]

I return with more Sitcom AU writing. I've been studying up, so I'm much more familiar with the AU now! That being said, looks like Alex is a wanted criminal now-

Alex was tired. They’d been staying up late at night lately to monitor and study Clyde when it was most active. Exhausting work, sure, but fascinating and incredibly fruitful. They’d learned so much about it. What they had learned basically boiled down to Clyde being a larger, spikier, more dangerous cat that could talk. Alex wondered if they could teach it to meow like one.

At the moment, Clyde was sleeping on the foot of Alex’s bed. It was nice and dark in Alex’s room with the new blackout curtains they had installed, which made it an ideal sleeping environment for the Veldigun. It was late in the afternoon, so it was bound to wake soon. Alex was in the kitchen making it a sandwich. They’d been trying to sleep for most of the day, too, but keeping Clyde away from the townsfolk of Eastridge County meant sacrificing catching up on sleep to keep it well-fed.

The thing was, Alex was starting to trust Clyde to a degree. Even on days where Alex was away from home for over 12 hours, Clyde would always stay in the house. Ever since that first incident, that first encounter, no one had died. The Smiling Snatcher was, as far as anyone knew, no longer snatching. That wasn’t to say Alex expected it to be perfectly tame. Clyde was still the equivalent of a wild beast. It still had its own thoughts and compulsions. It was still a killer. Heck, it could very well kill Alex at any moment if it wanted to. Alex fully understood that. Still, they couldn’t help but feel like they were starting to bond with the creature. There was still just one rule. Never touch it. That was how you got sick.

Alex heard something hit the floor in their bedroom. A few moments later, Clyde stalked into the room. “Good evening,” said Alex.

Clyde just rubbed its eye. It was still waking up.

“Friendly reminder that the repairman is coming to look at the lock on my back door in a few days. I’ll be home, but you’ll need to hide and keep quiet if you want to hang around.”

“Mhm…”

“Made you a sandwich, if you want one.”

That got its attention. Alex slid the plate across the counter, and only a few moments later, the sandwich was completely gone. “How’d you sleep?” Alex asked.

“Good enough,” said Clyde. “Do you HAVE to work tomorrow?”

“Yeah. It’s the only way I’ll be able to get to the bottom of whatever is going on. Besides, the better I know the asylum, the better we’ll be able to plan getting Winfrey out.”

Clyde nodded, stretching its long limbs. “Alright…”

There was a sudden knock at the door. Alex and Clyde both jumped. What in the world would someone be doing at the house on a Wednesday afternoon? “Get in the closet,” they whispered to Clyde, who quickly complied. They took a step toward the door, but before they could get any closer, they heard whoever it was speak.

“Mx. Alex Williams? This is the Eastridge County Police. We’ve gotten a tip-off that you may have information on the Eastridge Demon. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Alex froze in their tracks. How did they know that they were harboring Clyde?

“The man who tipped us said that you would recognize his name. Does ‘Herbert Lankmann’ sound familiar at all? Said he’s your boss.”

A second officer began talking. “That must mean you work at the asylum. If anyone’s got information on the Eastridge Demon, it’s you.”

Alex felt their heart begin to race.

“Mx. Williams, Mr. Lankmann informed us that we are under full authority to arrest you for treason if you refuse to comply.”

Oh no.

Alex sprinted to their room and began packing a backpack. Clyde poked its head out of the closet, watching concernedly. “What are you doing?” it whispered.

“Getting out of here. They know you’re here. Help me out.”

The packing frenzy began. Extra clothes, hairbrush, hat.

“Mx. Williams, if you don’t answer the door, we will use force.”

Research notebook, spare notebook, pencils.

“Mx. Williams, this is your last warning.”

Some extra food, first aid kit, as much money as they could grab.

Something slammed into the door, shaking the whole house. Alex quickly zipped up the backpack. “Let’s go.”

They ran for the back door and tried the lock. The lock jammed. Something slammed into the door again. Alex heard cracking wood. Oh, that stupid back door. Stupid broken back door! “We’re stuck,” they said in a shaky voice.

A growl welled up in Clyde’s throat. “Not on my watch.”

Alex yelped in surprise as they felt Clyde grab their wrist and pull them into what could only be described as the most violent hug they’d ever experienced. It smashed through the back window, covering Alex’s head to shelter them from the shattering glass, cleared the fence with one leap, and took off running to the tree line. If Alex wasn’t in panic mode, they definitely would have tried to calculate how fast Clyde was moving. It was nothing short of inhuman.

Within seconds, Clyde was carrying Alex up a tree. Alex looked back at the house. They could see officers in the backyard, investigating the broken window and forcing the back door open. Multiple police cars were out front. It looked like some officers were inside, too. Their heart pounded. Their home…

“We need to go farther away,” said Alex. They didn’t want to look at the scene anymore.

“In case they decide to search the forest? Good plan.”

Clyde began hopping from tree to tree, holding Alex in one arm. Alex held back tears. They were terrified. They were a wanted traitor now. Lankmann would stop at nothing to recover them and Clyde.

Clyde finally hopped down to the ground. “We should be far enough away now,” it said. “Want me to let you go?”

That was when it fully clicked for Alex. Clyde had grabbed them. Clyde was… TOUCHING them. Alex began to panic again as they registered a pain in their hand. “Clyde… please say you’re just touching my clothes and not my skin.”

Clyde sucked in a gasp. “Oh…”

Alex looked down at the back of their hand. One of Clyde’s spikes was digging into it.

The shock and terror set in immediately as Alex wrestled free of Clyde’s grip. They’d touched Clyde. They had TOUCHED it. They knew the symptoms of Veldigun sickness well by now. The thought of having to go through that…

“I’m… sorry…” said Clyde, backing up slowly. “I just wanted to help…”

Alex stared at it for a few seconds before sitting down on the ground. “I know. I can’t be mad at you for trying to help me.”

They sat there for another while with their face in their hands. Their whole life had just been turned upside down. No home, hardly any belongings, an enemy of the state, and doomed to catch Veldigun sickness. There was no hope. Or, at least, there wouldn’t have been, if Clyde hadn’t draped an arm over Alex’s shoulder and said, “I have an idea.”

[thelittlewriter]

Late Birthday

Pairing : Sakusa x Reader

Scenario : You come home late from work, without knowing that it was your birthday.

You were tired when you arrived home. It was past midnight. A part of you knew that it wasn’t common for someone to get off work after midnight. You didn’t have a choice, you had a deadline to meet. You hadn’t seen your boyfriend for more than a week. You missed him, but it was always too early when you woke up and too late when got off work.

You missed him, especially today. It seemed like the weekend wasn’t close enough, and it seemed like you wouldn’t be able to see him next weekend either.

You scoffed as you open the door of your apartment. It’s not like you could quit your job to be with your boyfriend. He was busy as well. He was probably asleep because he had to go train early. You turned the light on and just dropped your bag in front of the front door.

“I’ll put it away in the morning,” you said as if someone was watching and judging you.

But you were tired. You walked toward the kitchen to drink a glass of water before getting ready to go to bed. You opened the door and turn the light on. You jumped when you saw a body, sitting at the kitchen table. You recognized his clothes.

“Omi ?” you called your boyfriend.

He raised his head, and his eyes met yours. He was still half asleep, but still, he sat up and walked toward you. Had he been waiting for you in the kitchen this whole time ?

He took you in his arms.

“Happy birthday.”

You looked up at him. You were a bit confused. He had a small laugh.

“Yesterday was your birthday. It’s past midnight already.”

He held you tighter. You looked behind him and saw the cake on the kitchen table.

“I wanted to celebrate your birthday with you, but I guess you were with your friends. Still, it’s a shame I couldn’t wish you a happy birthday on your birthday.”

You closed your eyes. He probably stayed awake late at night just for this and wanted it to be a surprise. But you didn’t make it in time. Worse, you didn’t even notice it was your birthday. 

“I’m sorry, I was at work.”

He stepped back a little.

“Work ?”

You nodded.

“Working this late isn’t good.”

He had a serious look on his face. You smiled and kissed him. When you looked at him again, he was pouting. He was clearly avoiding looking at you.

“I liked the idea of you being with your friends better.”

You laughed.

“You don’t have to be jealous. The truth is... I didn’t know it was my birthday.”

He took you by the hand and led you to the cake.

“Did you call ?” you asked. “I turned my phone off in the morning.”

“I didn’t. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

A surprise.

In your apartment.

You gasped. He got inside your apartment while you weren’t there for the first time since you gave him the key. He got inside your apartment during a period when you were busy.

“My apartment is so messy !” you suddenly screamed.

You were ready to run to your bedroom to tidy up a little but Sakusa caught you right before you left.

“I cleaned. You shouldn’t have to do that on your birthday and it wasn’t really messy to begin with.”

You smiled at him.

“It’s ok if you wanna go to sleep now. We can eat the cake tomorrow.”

You nodded. You were about to fall asleep right into his arms. You slowly got ready for bed, already half asleep. You could see your boyfriend keeping an eye on you from a distance.

“Do you have to wake up early tomorrow ?”

You sighed just thinking about it. The day after, on a Saturday, you were supposed to go to the office to finalize the project during a small meeting. A part of you hated the idea of waking up early again. What you hated more was that you wouldn’t spend as much time with your boyfriend.

When you finished getting ready to get to sleep, he was already in your bedroom.

“You know,” he said as you entered the room. “I always wondered where some of my clothes went. But they were all here.”

You laughed. You loved being home wearing his clothes. It felt as if he was hugging you all day. But you were fine wearing your own clothes tonight. After all, you had the real deal right here. You got into the bed and lay down.

“I’m sorry I was late today.”

“It’s fine, you were at work.”

You took his hand. It felt soft and intimate, in the dark.

“But you planned something.”

You have no idea, he thought.

He wanted to take you to a nice restaurant before eating the cake. He hadn’t planned anything big, as it was the first time you would celebrate your birthday since you started dating, and he knew you would most likely be tired. But it was alright. Just seeing you and being with you was enough.

“Just a cake,” he lied. “We can always celebrate it tomorrow when you get back.”

You didn’t answer. He heard your small breathing. You were already asleep.

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

Hey ! I hope you liked it and that you had a good day ! I just wrote this randomly, there's no real story behind it but still, I hope it was good enough...

[drewsbuzzcut]

Frustration

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses blurb

warnings: slight angst, bickering, cursing, frustration

“You can drop us off at Beau’s,” you muttered through the tense silence of the rental car.

“You’re not coming back with me to the hotel?” Mat asks, thrown off guard by your statement.

“Not when you’re like this,” you say.

“Like what? Losing games? It’s not really all in my control. It’s a team effort, you know?” He bites, words coming out in a harsh manner.

“No. I couldn’t give two shits if you guys lose, you can lose every single game, just as long as you do everything you can to try to win. It’s about you being so fucking moody,” you bite back, staring at the side of his face.

“Don’t curse in front of the kids,” he has the nerve to say.

You let out a scoff, your eyes wide in shock.

“Seriously? After you were all pissy and cursing as you were buckling them in. You can’t say shit to me, Mathew,” you finish, closing your eyes after moments of silence follow your words.

He had nothing to say.

He pulls up to Beau’s house, you quickly unbuckle yourself before settling your younger two in your arms.

“I’ll be back for Nolan,” you inform him.

Mat rests his head on the steering wheel, disappointed in himself. First, the islanders have not been doing well, and now he’s being a dick to his family. He slams his fist on the wheel, momentarily forgetting that Nolan is lightly asleep in the back.

The moment his wife opens the car door, he hears Nolan’s sniffles. He knew he messed up, once again.

“Have you not learned? Go back to the hotel and sleep off your anger. Hopefully tomorrow you won’t be so angry with the wrong people,” you whisper, no malice just stoic.

“Babe,” Mat calls out, his voice sounding watery and hurt.

You look at him and his pretty eyes that shine with unshed tears.

You turn away, walking back toward the house to put Nolan to bed. You shyly ask Beau to keep an ear out for them in case they wake up, telling him that you’ll be in the front consoling your husband.

When you walk back out, Mat’s head rests in his hands, his sniffles sound identical to Nolan’s.

You open up the driver’s door, bringing Mat’s attention to you. You rest a hand on the back of his neck, softly caressing the skin. He looks at you with a desperate glance. He needs you more than the need you have to be annoyed with him.

You wrap your free arm around his shoulders, bringing your forehead to rest on his. You crowd the minimal space he has in the driver’s seat.

He moves his face to bury it in the crook of your neck, and that’s when you start massaging his scalp.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m being an ass right now, I’m just so frustrated. It’s not an excuse, though, because I shouldn’t be taking it out on you or the kids. I made Nolan scared,” he says through a strangled cry.

You hug him tighter to your body. You could practically feel the regret roll off him in heavy waves.

“I should’ve handled things better, and not reciprocate the frustration. I love you, baby,” you whisper in his ear, your nose skimming the skin of his cheek.

“I don’t want to be that type of dad. I don’t want to make our kids feel like they can’t be around me,” he states, shaking his head like he can’t even fathom the thought of his kids not wanting to be around him.

“I know.” You continue to stroke his skin, feeling his shoulders slightly fall.

“Hockey has been a lot lately. I’m doing something wrong, we’re all doing something wrong. I just don’t know how much more I can take,” he whispers defeated.

“It’ll all work out. You guys will find your rhythm. I’m sorry the season isn’t going the way you planned, but I’m here for you. Don’t take your frustrations out on us because at the end of the day, win or lose, we’re always going to be your biggest fans,” you soothe him, kissing soft pecks on his neck up to his jaw.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you and our family. I love you,” he cups your cheeks, pulling your lips to his.

“I love you, barzy. Now, I need you to come back into Beau’s house with me, so we can fall asleep together. You holding me and us holding our children,” you grab his hand and pull him out of the vehicle.

“Do you think Tito will be mad if we have sex in his guest bedroom?” He asks, pulling you back into his arms as you both walk towards the front door.

“Slow your roll, hotshot. We still got the kids with us,” you cackle.

“He has more than one guest room,” he adds, a cheesy smile on his face.

“In your wildest dreams, Barzal,” you pull away from him, walking backwards so you’re facing your husband.

“You’re my wildest dream, Barzal,” he states, catching up to you to pull you back into his arms. You lean up to kiss him, finally feeling like your husband is back to his happy self.

a/n: Enjoy!

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WOTHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @eclecticwildflowers, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

warnings: talk of sexual assault/harassment, swearing, drinking

A crashing noise woke me and I quickly bolted out of bed, grabbing my wand off the nightstand and going on the defensive.

“lumos.” My wand lit up the portion of the room the fireplace didn’t. Severus stood hunched over the side table in our living room, ragged breaths shaking his frame. “Sev?” I gently called out. Severus shook his head, his hair falling in his face as he did.

“he saw.” His voice was ragged and I could tell he was crying. “That damn boy saw.” Severus took a drink of whatever it was he had gotten from the kitchens. another swipe of his arm and more of our trinkets clattered to the floor.

“Who saw Severus?” I asked, resting my hand on his back and watching as he relaxed slightly. “Saw what?” Severus spun towards me, making me pull my hand back.

“potter.” He spat out. I watched him as he threw his glass back and downed the rest of his drink. It refilled itself and I knew what it was. “He saw…” Severus took a ragged breath again and wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. “By the tree…that day…his father…” I nodded and slipped into his personal space. “When his father…exposed…”

“I understand. I get it.” I whispered as I wrapped my arms around his waist. Severus nearly collapsed against me. The glass fell as he wrapped his arms around me. “Severus, believe me when I say he won’t tell anyone. He’s grappling with it just as much as you are.” I tangled my fingers in his hair. “Harry worshipped the ground James walked on and this proves everything you’ve been saying to him for years. And it proves Sirius was no better. Is no better.” Severus nodded against my neck. “He’ll go to Sirius and Remus. You know that. He will want answers. If he asks you…” Severus drew back.

“no. I failed. I failed my promise.” He sobbed, bending to retrieve the glass. I grabbed it before he did. “I said our lessons were over…I can’t…” I shook my head and grabbed his hands as he knelt down.

“Severus. He’s a curious boy. To the point of causing trouble. He’s going to want answers. Would you rather he gets them all from Sirius, who would encourage this hero worship or have a second opinion?” Severus stared at me wide eyed. “Keep in mind he knows next to nothing about lily. Aside from how kind she was and that his eyes look exactly like hers. You always wanted the boy to be closer to you. Despite the outward appearance you have with him, you do care for him. And you know why?” Severus shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Because you see lily underneath it all. She’s there. He just needs to know who she was.” Severus wiped his tears again as he sat on the floor.

“you think…” he took a deep breath to calm himself. “You think that’ll work? Even with everything those two have been filling his head with?” I nodded as I sat across from him.

“I’m sure it will.” I assured him. Severus looked behind him and sighed.

“I’m sorry for waking you.” He pulled out his wand. “Reparo.” Everything that had broken and was scattered across the floor fixed itself on its way back to the side table.

“it’s alright luv.” I assured him as I helped pull him up. “Now come on. To bed.” Severus smiled at me as he stood up.

“thank you.” He whispered as he stopped me to give me a kiss. “I’ll send him a note tomorrow. Explain all of this.” He brushed some hair out of my face and I nodded.

“sounds like a plan. But for now,” I drew him into our bedroom. “Let’s sleep.”

[mynameismckenziemae]

In Case You Didn’t Know

Part 3

(previous part here, next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OFC

Summary: The tension builds

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, sexual tension, wet dreams, etc.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Charlie: Sorry to bug you on a Sunday but can you do me a favor and add someone in for me this week? Any day works.

Hayes: Depends. It’s not that old farmer who called me a dumbass when I told him he needed a new knee?

Charlie: Lol, no. It’s my friend Jake. Traumatic tibia/fibula fracture after he ejected from his jet.

Hayes: Wait, that Jake?

Charlie: My best friend Jake…yes.

Hayes: *cough* The one you’re in love with *cough*

Charlie: Maybe I was just trying to let you down easy.

Hayes: Liar. You have hearts in your eyes when you talk about him. 😍

Charlie:🖕🏻 Forget it. I’ll just drive him to Austin. And I am NOT getting you coffee at all this week. You’re on your own.

Hayes: No, I’ll see him. I’ve got to meet this guy.

Charlie: Thank you. He’s not talking about it yet but I think he’s pretty shaken up.

Hayes: I bet. I’ll see you tomorrow and we’ll look at my schedule.

Charlie: Great, thanks again.

Hayes: Anytime.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake smiles a bit more when you eat dinner together at the table that night.

He falls asleep with his head in your lap again, tightening his grip on your thigh when you try to move, so you end up on the couch too; waking up with an awful crick in your neck.

“Hey Jake, let me up. I’ve gotta get in the shower,” you whisper.

“'m so comfy though,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your bare thigh; the slight scruff of his facial hair sends a thrill between your thighs.

You both freeze.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I did that,” Jake says, a blush rising to his cheeks.

“No big deal,” you say, brushing it off. “Need anything before I jump in the shower?”

“I’m good, thanks though,” he replies, lying back down.

He’s still asleep when you put his breakfast on the counter and a note on the coffee table telling him to call if he needs anything.

“Be a good boy for Jake, okay?” You tell Cash with a boop to his nose before heading to work.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake’s on the porch when you pull in a little after 5, throwing a tennis ball to a delighted Cash. He looks better already; more rested and lighter.

You could used to seeing him at home every night.

“How was your day?” You ask as you juggle the pizza you picked up and some PT equipment.

“Pretty good, slept ‘til 10. Haven’t done that in years. Caught up on some TV and then came out here to play with Cash,” he says, petting your tired dog. “You?”

“Long but good. Dr. Hayes can you see you tomorrow over the noon hour. Let’s get your PT out of the way and if you do a good job I’ll reward with you pizza and beer.”

“I’ll try my best, what happens if I don’t?” Jake asks cheekily.

“You get a bologna sandwich and the day-old milk in the fridge,” you tease, knowing he hates bologna.

He looks a little green as he replies. “I’ll do good.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“I’m sweating. Why am I sweating Charlie?” Jake pants from the thick exercise mat on the floor.

You had him do some upper body work to keep him in shape when he gets back to California.

“‘Cause you lift too many weights without enough cardio,” you laugh at the offended look on his face. “I’m kidding. You just haven’t worked out in almost 2 weeks, so you’re a little deconditioned.”

“Apparently.”

“Alright, let’s finish up with some stretching,” you say, kneeling on the floor by him and lifting one of his legs.

“Jesus, your hip flexors are tight,” you say, pushing his leg towards his head.

“What the fuck is a hip flexor?” He grits out, holding his breath.

“Breathe. It’s the group of muscles towards the front of the hip. Right here,” you reply, hovering over his upper inner thigh.

He nods, face red. “Fuck that burns.”

“Maybe you’ll think twice before folding women in half, huh?” It slips out of your mouth before you think.

Very professional.

He huffs out a laugh. “It’s been so long since I’ve been laid, I don’t think I remember how to do that.”

“You too?” You cringe internally at yourself. Shut up.

“Yeah. Almost 2 years,” he replies, looking at the ceiling to avoid your eyes. “You?”

“Grad school, so about the same,” you answer, bending his leg for a different stretch.

“Fuckfuckfuck, cramp,” he grits out.

“Here, turn over and I’ll massage it.”

You help him to his stomach and dig your fingers into his hamstring, the muscle contracted and rock hard, but it eventually begins to loosen under your touch.

Other things begin to harden as your fingers work upwards, his ass clenches and he grunts when your hands almost reach the crease where his thigh and butt meet.

“Sorry, ticklish?”

“Mhmm,” he answers, his tone strained.

“Alright, you earned that pizza. Let’s go,” you pat his leg and rise.

“I need a minute,” he murmurs, face pressed into his crossed arms.

“Shoot, cramping up again?” You ask, ready to help.

“No. I’ve got a uhm…situation.”

“What hurts?”

“Nothing hurts. I’ve got a boner.”

“Oh,” you realize, heart skipping a beat.

He sighs, lifts his hips to presumably tuck himself into his waistband, and rolls back over.

Your eyes flick to his groin and your mouth waters at the thick, hard line of his erection.

You ignore it and help him up, catching him as he stumbles. His face just inches from yours. His eyes flick to your lips before meeting yours. “Thanks,” he says after clearing his throat and stepping back after you hand him his crutches.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Your ‘Liked Songs’ on Spotify plays softly as you sit at the kitchen table as you share the pizza. The Coors are going down easy and soon you’re down to the final 2 of the 6 pack as Jake has you crying from laughing so hard as he tells you of Rooster’s latest antics.

You’re feeling good as you wash the few dishes when one of your favorite songs comes on.

“Give me one reason to stay here,” you song softly before turning to him and pointing your soapy finger at him. “and I'll turn right back around…”

“Sing it, Charlie!” Jake calls, taking another swig.

So you do, dancing along as you approach him.

The energy in the room shifts from playful to tense when you straddle the thigh of his good leg.

“You can call me baby,” you lean forward, brush your lips over his.

“You can call me anytime,” you whisper, meeting his heated gaze, rising quickly when you realize what you’re doing.

“Come on Cash, I’ll take you outside,” you say as you leave the room to cool off.

Jake’s head falls back as he tries to do the same.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

You both go to bed shortly after.

It takes ages to fall asleep as you kick yourself for your actions; tossing and turning most of the night and wake up feeling like you only slept an hour.

You hear Jake softly call your name as you head back to your room in a towel after your shower.

“Yeah?” You ask.

No response.

You hear him grumble again and wrap your towel around you tighter as you walk to his room, gasping when you push open his door.

The blankets are kicked off and he grips himself through his boxer briefs, eyes still closed.

He’s having a wet dream. About you.

“Charlie!” He mumbles, back arching as he cums, coating the inside of his briefs.

His eyes shoot open when you whimper at the sight.

“Fuck.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

A/N: sorry this was another short one. I hope it’s decent, I wrote half of it while in the ER waiting for my husband to get a CT after he was in an accident today that totaled my car 😬 he’s okay btw, just very sore.

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing your feedback in comments/reblogs.

Tagging:

@mamachasesmayhem

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd5

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

@atarmychick007

@vixenobrian

@86laura11

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@dempy

@angelbabyyy99

@buckysteveloki-me

@djs8891

@mizzzpink

@daggerspare-standingby

[igotlovestruck]

easy on me [ christian pulisic ]

you were young when you and christian broke up. you made a huge decision for the both of you back then and you were confident enough to know that the decision you made would be better for the both of you, but what happens when he learns about the biggest secret you’ve been hiding from him since you separated ways?

[ 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦 ] — christian pulisic x ex!reader; oc!emily, oc!ezekiel, oc!andrew . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ 🫂 °.   *

[ 𝗗𝗘𝗧𝗔𝗜𝗟𝗦 & 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 ] — angst, unplanned pregnancy, profanities, inaccurate description of mentioned places (as i’m not american, nor do i live in the states) . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ ℹ️ °.   *

[ 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 ] — 6,219 words . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ 📲 °.   *

࣪˖ 💭 .. 𝗘𝗬𝗔’𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 ⌕ the LONGEST scenario i've written, all thanks to disney+ hahahaha i’ve rewatched the parent trap and the game plan the other day, so i thought about this. i also plan on writing a parent trap-like story, but i’m still figuring out how i’d write it lol but anyway, enjoy! ❤️ btw, i haven’t betaread this so if there’s any errors, let me know and i’ll edit it!

this work is purely fictional. names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. © httpsuniverse, 2023. do not steal, repost in other platforms, translate and/or claim this work as your own.

watching this little kid grow up was both scary and amazing. five years have passed since you met him, since you first heard his heartbeat. five years ago, he opened his eyes and welcomed himself in this cruel world one september morning. watching him grow up to the person he was today felt both accomplishing and depressing. ezekiel mate was his name, and yes–you’ve named him after his father. his father who is not aware of his own existence. it wasn’t ezekiel’s fault though, you’ve made this decision by yourself and there was nothing you could do but uphold your decision and do your responsibilities as a mother–a single mother in fact. you thought it would be the best for all sides, for you and ezekiel’s father. 

he has his own career to think about, he was about to make his name known to people. to be known in the sport he loved most and all people would cheer his name, plaster printed copies of his face and name across the whole country. you didn’t want to ruin that opportunity for him, a child would only affect his career. between practices, training, matches, flights–surely, christian wouldn’t have any time to take care of a child. with you in north america and him in europe, it just simply wouldn’t work. you still remember the night you broke up with him, in fact, you can’t forget about it. it haunts you like a stupid nightmare, it keeps you awake most of the time.

you sacrificed a lot for ezekiel. giving up university for a year to navigate things on how to be a mom, and trying to make ends meet by working–sure, your parents were there to help financially and take care of your baby in times you needed them, but you wanted to be able to support ezekiel on your own. balancing work, university and a growing child was hard and there were days that you wanted to just give up. but you didn’t, because you were the only parent that ezekiel has in his life.

“mama?” you heard a tiny voice call you, waking you up from reverie. ezekiel’s tiny footsteps were heard as he ran towards you. “why are you still awake?” you smiled at the little boy, gently picking him up from the ground and sat him on the kitchen counter in front of you. his slightly curly hair, deep dimples and honey brown eyes that look so captivating under the light, reminded you so much of his father. not to mention, they both share the same birthday.

“just… thinking of something, baby.” you answer, “why are you still awake? we have a flight to catch tomorrow, you know?”

“i know! we’re going to florida, to aunt emily and i’m too excited to sleep, mama.”

you giggled, “well, we both need to sleep now. we have an early flight and you need to have a lot of energy when you get to aunt emily’s place.”

you took ezekiel in your arms, making sure that his favourite stuffed toy was secured in his arms as you made your way back to his room. gently, you put him to his bed and tucked him in, sitting on the edge of his bed as you stared at him, waiting for his eyelids to shut as he told you how his day was. ezekiel spent the day with your parents, they lived nearby and offered to babysit him while you went to work.

minutes later, ezekiel’s words were slurring. meaning, he was about to drift off to dreamland. you both have to be awake by 5 am to catch your flight, and it was already almost midnight. you don’t need a fussy, grumpy 4-year-old throughout your 3 hour flight to florida. when you were sure that ezekiel was fast asleep, you planted a kiss on his head, tips of your fingers running through his soft cheeks as you stared at him. 

you left ezekiel’s room, quietly shutting the door closed. instead of going to your room to rest, you opted to stay in the living room. you sat there in silence, letting your own thoughts eat you again. you felt anxious, but you can’t pinpoint the exact reason why. you stare at the wall across from where you were sitting, it was filled with pictures of your family and some pictures of you and ezekiel. the ones from his birth, to his birthdays and his first day of preschool. you remembered that day clearly, when you fetched ezekiel from your parents’ place after his first day of preschool about a few months ago. you two were driving back to your place from your parents, he was quietly playing with his ipad behind you when he asked something you didn’t expect.

“mama, do i have a papa?” he asked, eyes still on his gadget. your heart dropped at the question. “i saw my friends with their papa today. do i have a papa?”

you remember pulling over the side of the road to take a deep breath before answering. he picked it up so early, noticing that it was only the two of you the past four years. 

“of course you have a papa, my love.” you answered, not really sure what to say next.

“why is he not here? does my papa hate us?”

sometimes, four year olds ask the most piercing questions and they don’t even know how it could change one’s whole mood, just like what your son was doing. “he doesn’t hate us, your papa is just… busy.” 

“is it my fault, mama?”

you sighed, removing your seatbelt and faced ezekiel. “no, baby. it’s not your fault, it will never be your fault.” you said, smiling to let him know that he wasn’t in any sort of trouble. “it’s just… mama and papa needed some time away from each other. it doesn’t mean that it’s your fault, baby. it’s never your fault.”

ezekiel smiled at you, mumbling a small okay. you chose to go to the nearest fast food chain drive thru, not in the mood to cook as you were tired the whole day and with ezekiel’s questions to you, sure enough you wouldn’t be able to focus on making dinner. 

“it’s mama’s fault, zeke.” you murmured, holding a picture of your son. “i’m the one to blame.”

—

“if you don’t wait for mama, you might be lost and i will be very sad.” you tell your 4-year-old as you wait for your bags. 

the flight from new york to florida was easy, because your son was asleep throughout the duration of the flight. however, it was during the landing when he woke up and started to be talkative and hyper. you only had at least an hour or two of sleep from last night, waking up at 3 am to catch a 6 am flight. ezekiel was usually listening to you every time you two go out, but since he’s all napped out, you were dealing with a hyper kid (you blame yourself for giving him cookies before you landed). 

ezekiel held your hand as you pushed your luggage towards the arrivals exit. you two were greeted with a big sign that says welcome to florida, y/n and zeke! by your best friend, emily and her husband, andrew. your son ran straight to his godmother, he couldn’t read the sign yet but he knew it was his favourite aunt.

“zeke, you’re a big boy now!” emily exclaimed, hugging him tight and letting go of your son a few seconds later to face you. “and you, a hot mama, you’re looking beautiful as ever!”

you playfully hit her arm and hugged her. the four of you made way for the other people in the airport, heading to the parking lot. emily and andrew had invited you over to celebrate the fourth of july with them, as well as to meet your goddaughter, celeste. they invited the two of you to stay with them for a week as emily said that you two had a lot of catching up to do.

the drive from the airport to the emmons’ residence wasn’t that far, it only took the four of you about forty-five minutes. emily and andrew’s place was beautiful and cosy, perfect for the couple and the family they dreamed of building. your room for the week had a view of the lake, which you liked the most. emily had ezekiel for a few minutes as you unpack your stuff and prepare ezekiel’s swimming trunks.

“we can go boat riding in the next few days!” emily told ezekiel, “but for now, we can swim in the backyard and play with celeste. is that okay with you, zeke?”

ezekiel nodded his head, turning to you. “your swimming trunks are in the room. change first and go back to mama so i can put sunscreen on you, alright?”

“yes mama!”

ezekiel changed his clothes and had his sunscreen applied, excitedly joining andrew in the pool. you and emily were lounging with her 4-month-old daughter, celeste. the day passed by so quickly; it seems like ezekiel enjoyed his first day in florida as after dinner, instead of asking for his ipad to play and watch his favourite kids show, he asked if he could go to sleep. poor kid must’ve been exhausted running around the backyard with andrew. when you were certain that ezekiel was tucked and safe on the bed, you went back to the living room where the couple was waiting for you.

“little too early for wine, isn’t it?” you smiled, taking a seat across the couple. 

“it’s never too early for wine.” said emily, “plus, celeste is already asleep and hopefully, won’t wake up for the next three hours.”

the three of you were talking about life now that you were all parents now. unlike you, emily was fairly new to parenthood and she has someone by her side throughout the journey. were you jealous? maybe you were, a little. but you had a choice and your choice was to go through this alone anyway, so you immediately shut those thoughts off. 

unlike you, your best friend did everything by the book. she and andrew got married over a year ago, gave birth to their first child, and not long ago, they recently bought a home in a gated community which is why they moved from new york to florida. nevertheless, you were happy for emily. she deserved it after all.

as the three of you continued to converse, andrew had asked a question you weren’t expecting: “are you on good terms with ezekiel’s dad?” you understood why he had asked you that, he had no idea about your relationship with christian because the two of you met when he and emily started dating during their years in university, unlike emily who knew you since you were still in diapers. 

“babe, that’s not—”

“it’s okay, emily.” you said, “he and i have not spoken since i was pregnant with ezekiel. i have no idea what’s going on with his life now, but wherever he is, i just hope he’s doing well in his career.”

since you and christian broke up, you made sure not to see his name or hear anything about him at all. blocked him and muted his name and any word tied to his name including football and soccer. it wasn’t easy at first but you got used to it as the years passed by. you wonder what happened in his career now, was he still in dortmund? which part of europe was he living now? how was his career in the national team? 

the past five years, you’ve been avoiding christian and everything related to him, yet you go back to square one whenever someone asks you about him. you and christian only dated for a year, and your relationship was really private back then. only a handful of people knew about it. nobody knows outside of your family and emily that ezekiel’s father was christian. the people around you and your family thought that you were knocked up by some random guy you met in university. did it hurt? of course it did. having people see you as a careless young adult, have them judge you for being a parent at such a young age but that didn’t stop you from trying your best to be a good parent to ezekiel.

however, sooner or later, ezekiel would ask you about his father—it already happened one time, and you know it’s bound to happen again in the future. was it selfish to hide your child from his own father? yes, it was, but you couldn’t blame yourself for wanting to protect him. you were aware how cruel people could be, especially people who idolise christian. you could take the hate from them but the thought of your only child getting unnecessary hate from the people who don’t know the whole story simply breaks your heart and makes you anxious.

but, who knows what the future holds?

—

“andrew, y/n and i will go for a quick run!” emily announced to her husband. 

andrew appears in the kitchen, celeste was in his arms and trying to make the baby burp. “is it okay to leave ezekiel here? i mean, andrew’s already taking care of celeste.” you said, a bit worried that andrew couldn’t handle two kids. 

andrew chuckles, “i’ll be fine as soon as celeste falls asleep. me and mr. big boy here can play video games while she naps.” he answered, “now, you ladies go. we’ll be fine here.”

“are you sure, andrew?”

“y/n, andrew has babysat most of his nephews and nieces all at once, and he has 6 of them. i think he can handle an infant and a child.” emily laughs, “now, let’s go!”

“alright, alright!” you gave in, levelling with ezekiel’s eyes. “promise mama that you’ll be a good boy for uncle andrew?”

you extend out your pinky, and ezekiel wrapped his around yours, putting a smile on everyone’s faces. seconds after that, you and emily were out of the door and started running laps around the whole neighbourhood. it took you two an hour before you stopped by a local park, finding a shade to relax for a bit. the both of you were quiet, enjoying the sound of the trees as you relaxed. 

“i’m sorry about andrew’s question last night.” emily suddenly said, “you know, the one about he-who-must-not-be-named.”

you let out a chuckle and shook your head. “it’s okay, ems. it was just an innocent question.” you said, playing with the hem of your shirt. “it’s really not the first time someone asked about him anyway.”

“what do you mean?”

“zeke. he asked about his dad during his first day of school, a few months back.” you answer, “he asked if he had a dad, if his dad hates us because he wasn’t present and… was it his fault why his dad’s not around.”

“oh my… y/n, i’m sorry.”

emily hugs you tightly, feeling a bit sad as zeke was too young to think about such things. you never told anyone about your conversation with your son that day until today, and it felt so good to finally get it out of your chest. 

“i feel so selfish to keep him away from christian, you know?” you open up, “but it was the only thing i could think of. ems, you know how well his career was going back then. i didn’t want him to sacrifice such a huge opportunity for me and ezekiel back then.”

at this point, you were tearing up. you couldn’t help it. you were always vulnerable when you talked about ezekiel and christian. back when you found out that you were pregnant, you made this decision to break up with christian and have the baby alone. back then it felt like you shot two birds with one stone, christian’s career being the one bird and the other is protecting your child from the public eye. 

you and emily stayed at the park for a few more minutes, just until you cried out and walked back home. maybe it was time, it’s been years after all and christian deserve to know the truth. the whole day passed, ezekiel enjoyed spending it with you and the emmons, taking you both on a boat ride which ezekiel loved the most. seeing your child’s smile from ear to ear warmed your heart, yet you felt guilty. since ezekiel was born, there was this guilt that was running through your heart; that nagging guilt saying that you were depriving both of them by taking away the chance to be in each other’s life. 

fuck it, i’m gonna do it. you thought to yourself in the middle of the night while staring at the ceiling.

christian thought his eyes were deceiving him the moment he saw the notification, his fingers immediately pressing on the message. usually, he would ignore message requests, but as he saw your name, he had flashbacks all of a sudden. it’s been five years, yet your name was still imprinted in his mind. five years of thinking where did he go wrong in your relationship, if there was something he did that made you end your relationship, and if it had something to do with his career. five years ago, his career was thriving and his love life came crashing. 

he remembered the night you broke up with him, it was when you flew to visit him during your winter break and it happened on a typical day. the two of you did the usual routine since you arrived, wake up together, eat together and after that, he went to training while you stayed at his place. by the time he arrived, you ate dinner together. he even offered to wash the dishes as you already cooked. life was perfect, or so he thought. 

“is there something bothering you?” he asked when he noticed the change of mood while you two lied in bed. “talk to me.”

“it’s just nothing.” 

normally, christian would ask you again–if you were okay, what was bothering you and all. but this time, he heard your tone that signified you weren’t really in the mood, so he let it go. the two of you cuddled up in bed, with you as the little spoon and listening to each other breathing. until you asked him a question.

“what do you think of kids, chris?”

“what do you mean what do i think of kids?”

“you know, what is your opinion about kids? about having and raising your own?”

christian chuckles, letting you turn around to face him. “well, i would like to have one, maybe two or three.” he answered, “but definitely not now. we’re still young, we have dreams to achieve. big dreams in our careers. what about you?”

there was a brief moment of silence before you spoke up, “yeah, same answer as you, i guess.”

he remembers changing the topic that night, he didn’t notice your lack of energy speaking to him–thinking that maybe you were just tired and weren’t in the mood to speak. the following day, same routine. only then, when he arrived home, you two got into an argument that eventually led to the end of your relationship.

hey, i can make time. we can meet tomorrow. after agreeing where you’ll meet, christian couldn’t help but wonder what was the reason behind it. will it be the closure he’s been longing for the past five years?

morning came and only a few hours left until you meet christian. you let emily know about your plan, agreeing to watch ezekiel and let you borrow her car to drive to the park where you and christian agreed to meet. to say that you were nervous was an understatement of what you’re feeling. you still wonder what his reaction would be and how he would take such a huge news you were about to drop. 

the time left passed by so quickly. you kissed your son goodbye and drove to carlin park. when you arrived, you were stunned by the number of people. surely, you didn’t want to tell your baby daddy that you were pregnant with his child in front of hundreds of people, especially since he was a known athlete. anxiety pools all over you again, taking deep breaths before getting out of the car and head to the agreed place. 

“christian?” you called, walking towards him. he turned around and smiled at you. you haven’t seen this man in years. he has changed so much, he looked like a stranger you know too well. his beard was fully grown, it looked good on him. his left arm was filled with tattoos. looking at christian now, you could see what ezekiel would look like in the future; after all, he was the spitting image of his father.

“it’s nice to see you again, y/n.” he said, “shall we go for a walk at the beach or do you want to sit down?”

“we could go for a walk.”

you could hear your heart thumping at this point as you walked alongside christian. 

“it's been five years, y/n. how have you been?” he asked.

you took a deep breath, “well, i graduated. i also work now, so i guess i’m fine.” you answer, not sure if it was the answer he wanted to hear. “and i apologise for asking to meet up last minute. if i ever clashed with a schedule of yours.”

“it’s okay, i still have a few days before i leave for milan anyway.” he answered, “why did you want to meet all of a sudden? and i’m a bit shocked that you know where i stay now.”

this is it, y/n. you cannot fuck this up. “actually, i didn’t know that you lived around the area. i blocked you in every social media i have, muted your name and tried my best to avoid seeing your name. just last night, i found out that you live here now. the internet’s a scary place, you know?” you said, “but, aside from that, i do have something to tell you. something big and important.”

christian chuckles awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “uh, okay. what is it?”

“do you remember the night we broke up?”

“can’t really forget about it.” he replied, “why?”

“the night before i asked you what you think about having kids, and you said you’d like to have one but you said we still had dreams to achieve, right?” he nodded, “well, that day i actually found out that i…i was pregnant. 5 weeks back then.”

christian stopped his tracks and when you looked back at him, his face dropped and his eyebrows were furrowed. confusion was spread all over his face.

“i–i didn’t ask to meet you because i need some sort of financial support for the kid or whatever, i just wanted to let you know.” you said, biting your lip as he stayed silent. “if you want to do some paternity tests, i would gladly let you.”

“no, no. i uh, believe you.” he replied, “is the baby…?”

“he’s four and has the same birthday as you, chris. he’s doing well in preschool, and uh…” you paused, pulling out your phone from your pocket and opened a picture of ezekiel to show him. “this is him. his name’s ezekiel mate. he’s your mini me.”

“mate?”

“yeah, well… at first i wanted to give him your last name but i thought it’ll stir controversy so i opted to give him your middle name.” you confessed, passing him your phone. “i hope that doesn’t bother you, christian but i understand if it does. and really, i apologise for telling you this so late.”

christian looked at ezekiel’s picture, examining his facial features that reminded you of him. ezekiel looked like him when he was still a kid, he could see some of your features there as well and there is no doubt that this wasn’t his kid. the pulisic genes were strong and evident. 

the two of you continued to walk along the beach, christian was asking you questions about ezekiel until you two stopped in the part of the beach where there were less people. you were both staring at the horizon, it was then when christian asks you the question you’ve been avoiding. 

“did you… did you plan on telling me about him even before today?” 

“...yes” you breathed, “i–i was supposed to tell you, christian. i really wanted to, but you were just… you had a huge opportunity to showcase yourself in europe. i didn’t want to take that away from you.”

“why?”

“because i know how demanding your job could be. it was already demanding when we were together, it ate a lot of our time together. a part of me thought that maybe a child would be a huge inconvenience to your career.”

all the small milestones that ezekiel achieved, christian had missed out and you wouldn’t blame christian if he chooses to be mad or hate you for hiding his child from him. he had every right to do so after missing five years of his son’s life.

“why didn’t you reach out to me, to my family at least?”

“i was afraid, okay? i was young, we were young. i was figuring out who i wanted to be and obviously, being a young mother was something i did not expect that i’ll be.” you said, on the verge of tears.

“and so, was it okay for you? to be a young, single mom?” he fought back, “y/n, if you had told me before, you know i would do everything. i would’ve quit—”

“and that’s exactly why i didn’t tell you. i changed who i was to put you both first, christian. i wanted you to succeed, you had dreams. at the same time, i wanted a normal life for ezekiel.” you said, tears cascading out of your eyes. “you were achieving your lifelong dreams, christian. i didn’t want to interfere with that. i didn’t want you and your parents’ hard work to be cut short because of me, because of ezekiel.”

christian then realised the things you had gone through raising ezekiel alone. his heart broke when he heard the things people around you told you when your bump started showing. it hurts him to think that you’ve gone through it all alone–all the heartbreaking things people around you told you. even before, when you were still together, it was one of the things that he admired about you. you were a strong and resilient woman.

“can i… can i meet him?” 

that caught you off guard, “sure, i guess. when do you want to meet him?”

“tonight, if it’s okay with you?”

you nodded your head, a bit unsure how ezekiel would react. normally, he is shy when meeting new people. but this wasn’t any other person, this was his father. so when christian walked you back to the car and made sure you were inside, you dialled emily’s number.

“how’d it go?” was the first thing she said upon answering the call while you started the engine of the car.

“it went well, surprisingly.” you answered, “one little problem though.”

“what?”

“he uh, he wants to meet him. tonight.” you said, biting your lip. “would it be okay if christian came over at your place?”

“are you crazy? it’s more than okay! plus, it’s much safer and private here instead of going out. lots of people know him, you know?” 

you sighed, “i’m nervous, ems. i don’t know how zeke will react, i don’t even know what i’ll say to him.”

“zeke is a wonderful kid, i’m sure he will be okay when you tell him the truth.” emily reassures, “look, me and andrew will just be here to support you. no matter how it goes, alright?”

“thank you, ems. literally for everything.”

emily giggles on the other end, “hey, that’s what friends are for, silly!” she joked, “okay, now i’m gonna end this call to go get dinner ready. you get home safely!”

“dinner?”

“duh, christian pulisic is coming to my place and i’m not gonna serve him anything? i’m a very hospitable person, of course, i’ll make him something good.”

—

two hours of prepping dinner with the couple, christian rings the doorbell. emily whispered to you good luck as she and andrew stayed in the kitchen, keeping an eye on the food you all made while you head to the front door. you took a few breaths before opening the door for him. dressed in a simple button down with a shirt inside and a pair of shorts, holding a bouquet of flowers.

your heart skipped a beat. 

“hi,” he smiled, “these are for you.”

you make way for christian to enter the foyer, taking the flowers from his hands. “thank you, they’re pretty.” you compliment, “this is uh… emily and her husband’s place, by the way. we’re just visiting.”

just in time, emily and andrew entered the scene. “you remember emily, right?” you asked and he nodded.

“it’s been a while, christian.” emily smiled and introduced andrew to him. “dinner will be ready in a few. me and andrew are just in the kitchen if you need us.”

you led christian to the den, leaving him there as you went to get ezekiel. christian was nervous, just like you. he doesn’t know anything about parenting, or how to be a dad in general. he depended on such little information you told him about your son. everything was happening too fast, all he knows is that today was such a crazy day. one minute he finds out he has a son, the other he’s meeting him. he hasn’t even told his family about this information!

“zekey, could you promise to be good for mama?” you asked your son which christian heard, “remember when you asked mama if you had a papa?”

“yes, mama. you told me i had one but papa is just busy that’s why we haven’t seen him.” that broke christian’s heart.

“well, papa is here now.”

seeing ezekiel mate in person was a different feeling than seeing him on your phone earlier today. usually, when meeting new people, ezekiel would hide behind you and stay there until he feels comfortable. but this time, he didn’t. instead, he ran towards christian and gave him a hug.

“hello, papa.”

you bit your lower lip, trying to stop yourself from being emotional as you watch christian and ezekiel meet for the first time. 

“hello, ezekiel.” christian smiled, “i’m sorry, papa is so busy. but i’m here now.”

you’ve never seen ezekiel conversate with everybody else this way. he was engaging with every single question that christian asks him, telling him the little details about his life. god, why did you wait so long for these two to meet?

as the father and son get to know each other, you head to the kitchen to continue helping emily and andrew. emily was smiling at you when she saw you enter.

“i told you it’s gonna go well.” she said, “now that zekey and christian have met, what’s up with you and him?”

“what do you mean?”

“the flowers. maybe the two of you could reignite the spark you once had?”

you shook your head, continuing to mash the potatoes to serve later. “it’s not… it’s nothing like that. i doubt anything would happen between us, i mean, he’s probably dating someone.”

“really? you don’t see the two of you dating again?” andrew asked, and you shook your head again. “aww, i was almost excited to be friends with a star player. like, imagine the two of us barbecuing in the backyard?”

“babe, i think you’re man-crushing christian.” emily laughed. “but in all seriousness, y/n. no?”

“nope.” you replied, “like i said, he’s probably dating someone. plus it seems like we both moved on, we put the “us” in the past and i think it’ll stay that way.”

“what about zeke?”

you sighed, “we can co-parent, i guess. if he wants to, of course. i’m not going to force him into something he doesn’t want, at the end of the day, i still want what’s best for zeke and him.” you explained, “if he doesn’t want to co-parent, then that’s totally fine. i’ve raised zeke, i’m sure i can handle it.”

“really?”

“look,” you snapped, “i’m sorry guys, i love you both but… i just have a lot of things in my mind right now. it’s been a long day, can’t we just put the questions aside and just get through dinner?”

the couple nodded their heads. they understood where you were coming from, it wasn’t an easy decision for you to let ezekiel and his father meet, plus it all happened so fast and they were blabbing about the possibilities that could happen in the future. you left the two shortly after you helped them prepare the dining table, heading straight to where you left ezekiel and christian. 

ezekiel was in between christian’s legs, focused on his father’s phone as he showed him a compilation of his goals uploaded on youtube. when your son acknowledges your presence, he has the biggest smile on his face.

“mama, i want to play football like papa!”

you chuckle, taking a seat next to them. “well, i guess we could give it a try. but for now, let’s go eat dinner.” you tell your son, and he nodded his head, removing himself from christian’s grasp and ran out of the room, leaving you and his father alone. “so uh, just let me know if you’re uncomfortable during dinner. i can—”

“no, no, no. it’s okay.” christian said, “i, uh… about ezekiel—”

“we can talk about it after dinner.” you said, giving him a small smile as you walked to the dining. 

ezekiel was sandwiched between you and christian. the four adults exchanged stories, andrew expressing his shock upon finding out that the father of ezekiel is a star player for the national team. ezekiel adjusted with christian faster than you expected, knowing your son, it would usually take him a few more interactions before he started to talk to them completely but he was really comfortable with him. christian was his father after all.

after dinner, christian thanked the hosts of the house. he even offered to put ezekiel to bed, but the kid had too much energy left in his body and couldn’t sleep yet. he bid his goodbye to ezekiel, promising that they’ll meet and bond again soon which made ezekiel a bit sad, yet happy. when everything was already sorted out, you walked christian back to his car.

“today was… i don’t know, crazy and fun.” he admits, stopping next to his car. “it was a lot to process but i think i’m okay. more than okay with ezekiel, he’s… he’s a good kid and you’ve done so much for him. i’ve never met a kid so clever like him at a young age.”

you smile, you didn’t really expect his compliment and it made you shy. “thank you. i have to say, the people around him influenced him a lot.” you replied.

silence once again surrounded the two of you, you were both waiting for someone to speak–bring up the topic of co-parenting. you didn’t want to be the first one to ask him because it would feel like you were pressuring christian, and christian didn’t want to be the first one to ask you because he knew it would be such a huge adjustment for you and ezekiel.

“y/n” christian called.

you look up to him, staring directly into his honey brown eyes. again, no one was talking. just the sound of the wind and a broken street light not far from where you were standing. the space between you and christian was getting smaller and smaller, his hands gently making their way to your jaw. and the next thing you know, your lips were connected. feeling his lips on yours made your heart beat faster, butterflies in your stomach were getting crazier. 

you pulled away, holding his wrist. his forehead and nose on yours as you both catched your breath and closed your eyes. christian felt tears on his cheeks, causing him to open his eyes. 

“i can’t… we can’t–” you said, pulling away from him.

“y/n–”

“i’m sorry, chris.” 

you ran back inside the house, leaving christian alone in the driveway and he stood there frozen as he tried to process what had happened. did he move too fast? were you overwhelmed by his actions? questions ran through the player’s mind. maybe he did move too fast, and maybe you were scared that history may repeat itself. but this time, christian wanted to let you know that it wouldn’t, that he would do his best to conquer everything. christian was determined to have you again, because this time it isn’t only you he’s fighting for. 

he was fighting for you and ezekiel.

[oneforthemunny]

can't stop thinking about sweet girl finding a puppy and bringing her home to cowboy!eddie. Maybe she found her at a gas station on her way home from work. She's a scrappy-looking mutt, but precious all the same.

Eddie spots her car flying up the drive, shaking his head at her speed and taking off his work gloves, heading to meet her up by the house. He's getting ready to scold her when she opens the door and puts her hands up in defense, "I know I was speeding but I have an actual good reason this time!" He raises an eyebrow and walks closer, hands on his hips as he says "Sure better, missy. You also better have a good reason as to why you're not wearin' a jacket in this cold. Gonna get sick walkin' 'round with just a short sleeve on." she kisses him quick and sweet, "There's a good reason for that too!". She's giddy as she turns and leans into the car, grabbing the sweet puppy that she wrapped up in her coat and presenting her to him. Eddie immediately shakes his head, looking away to gather his patience before turning back to her, "Aw, hell. Baby no, absolutely not." She pouts, "Eddie there is no way I was just going to let her freeze by the gas station dumpster! I promise I'll take good care of her, you won't have to do a thing. She'll be all mine." She scratches the fur on the top of her head. Eddie swore he saw the dog actually smile. He sighs and scratches the scruff on his chin, "We can keep her for the night, and talk about options in the mornin', but I'm not having a dog in the house, no ma'am, " He waves his arm out towards the barn and pasture, "Do you see all the animals we already have? And those chickens that were also supposed to be "all yours"?" She goes to argue again, but Eddie cuts her off, walking up to her and pushing her hair behind her ear, "Sweetheart I know she's cute, and I don't mind givin' her some shelter for the night. But first thing in the mornin' we're takin' her into town."

Later that night Eddie wakes up to her side of the bed empty. He goes searching for her in the living room and his heart pangs when he sees her curled up on the floor in the little pin he made for the puppy. The dog is cuddled against her chest, content as can be while they both sleep.

Safe to say he ended up not being able to say no to her.

UGH I need him

I don’t think he’d dare even say no because he knows what that will bring. like he knows he’s gonna give in any ways, so he’d fight with her on “she’s not staying in the house.”

“eddie-“

“nope. i’ll make her a place out on the porch. make it nice and warm, but she’s not staying in the house.”

“it’s freezing out here!”

“fine, the garage. she’s not staying in the house. she’s filthy.”

“i’m going to give her a bath!”

“no. she’s not staying in the house. i’m not having a dog piss everywhere and tear shit up.” he shakes his head. “we can take her to the vet tomorrow, get her checked out, but no. not in the house.”

“fine.” your lips snarl. “i’m staying with her.”

“the hell you are-“

“-she’s scared, eddie!” you shrill. “i’m not leaving her alone so you can either let her stay in the house, or i’ll sleep outside with her. your choice.”

and eddie is fucking fuming. he’d never had an inside dog before ever. ever. his grandparents were the old school type, the dogs stayed outside on the farm.

still, the dog slowly became an inside dog. your dog, that was for sure. you carried her around like a little baby, spoiled her.

definitely one of those situations where eddie ends up loving her. i love it.

[love-kurdt]

Swooping, Sloping, Cursive Letters: 10

word count: 637

PLEASE READ THIS IS ME TRYING FIRST, AS THIS STORY RELIES HEAVILY UPON THE CONTEXT OF TIMT

June 11, 1988

Dear Will,

It’s 2:03am right now, and I can’t fall asleep. You may be asking, “Why can’t you fall asleep, Michael?” Well, William, I can’t fall asleep because I keep thinking about how much I want to kiss you. And in case you didn’t know, I want to kiss you a lot.

I think about you and those fucking gorgeous lips almost every waking moment. And the urge to follow through with my desire to kiss you always gets stronger whenever you’re in the room. Which is unfortunate, since you’re always in the room now— specifically my room, because it’s summer, so of course we’re hanging out every day. We made that stupid promise to dedicate one-on-one time to just the two of us. If only “one-on-one” was synonymous with “you-on-me.” Or “me-on-you”…? Either would work for me, honestly. But there’s something about the thought of you straddling me and leaning your entire body weight onto me that makes me weak in the knees. I’m kind of glad your mom wanted you home tonight, because there’s only so long I can refrain from lunging into your space and holding your face in between my hands and

—

I swear to God you’re in my walls, Will. Because the second I went down the horniest tangent these letters have ever seen, your voice came through on my walkie, asking if I was still awake. Your breathing sounded congested and labored, like you’d just been crying. Of course, I threw my pen down onto my desk and answered. You told me you’d had a nightmare, and that I was the first person you thought of after you woke up. I know this is kind of fucked up, but I felt a small sense of pride that you hadn’t gone to El or Jonathan first. But then you told me that your nightmare had been about me, and that pride was instantly ripped out of my chest. Before I could apologize for anything Nightmare Mike could have said or done, you told me that I had been cursed by Vecna and you couldn’t save me in time. You broke down in the middle of describing my bones snapping, and all I wanted to do was hold you and tell you that it was okay, that I’m still here. So I did.

I snuck out and biked over to your house, climbed the trellis below your bedroom window, and knocked. You let me in with wide eyes, and I just stood there for a second, catching my breath. I am not athletic at all. I can’t say the same about you; your muscle definition in the tank top you were wearing made me feel a little dizzy. But this was not the time for pining, so I took a step towards you and pulled you in for a hug. You smushed your entire face into my sternum, and I could feel new tears wetting my shirt. I just held you tighter, rubbing my hand up and down your back as you cried. A while later, you pulled back to apologize, but I reassured you that it was okay before smoothing your bangs back and kissing you on the forehead. I thought you’d freak out at my impulsivity (at least, that’s what I was doing, internally), but you just smiled up at me and hugged me again. You probably chalked it up to me being a good friend. And I’m glad you think so. I’m trying to be a better friend.

I eventually had to go back home, since my parents are dragging me to see Nana tomorrow (today?) and they’d be mad if they found my room empty in the morning. I wish I could’ve stayed. I promise I’ll make it up to you sometime.

Love,

Mike

-

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[countrymusiclover]

14 - Best Birthday Gift

Part 15

The Texas Tire Family

Tags just ask - @supernaturalgirl30 @bvbwestfall @bubble-blu @patriciaplictisita @liesanddreams

Pushing open the bedroom door in our apartment I smiled brightly seeing that my husband was still peacefully asleep in our bed. He was doing his best to earn more money since Dale was getting tired of running his shop. I could tell that he was interested in opening up a tire shop since he was looking to work for Mandy’s dad. “Georgie, I have a surprise for you. Wake up sleepy head. I made some waffles.”

“Oh hey babe…you didn’t have to make me breakfast in bed.” He rolled over onto his side so he was facing me. His hair was a mess more than its usual curly mess and he still had his sleepy morning voice.

Sitting the tray down on the bed he scooted over where we could both sit on the bed. “Well I think that my husband and father to my two beautiful children should be treated well on his birthday. Especially when he is turning eighteen years old. That is a big deal.”

“Oh man I totally forgot. You are the best Y/n.” He sat upright starting to quickly dive into eating the waffles and bacon. Laying my head against his shoulder I smiled watching him for a few minutes. I would be turning eighteen in two months so then we would both be adults.

He turned his head holding out the fork feeding me a piece of waffle talking with his mouth full of food. “So what are we gonna do today. Movies or something?”

“I was thinking dinner at the Mexican place. I convinced Meemaw to make you some of your favorite foods for tomorrow night and let the kids help her make it. But tonight I want it to just be us.” I explained leaning forward pressing my lips onto his.

He moved his freehand up to rest against my cheek drawing me in closer to kiss him. He smiled, breaking it when we heard some tiny feet running towards our bedroom. “That sounds perfect, darlin’.”

“Hi daddy!” Aurora and Evelyn both giggled running inside climbing up onto the bed. The pair tackled their father in hugs and kisses almost every morning but this time they were longer since I said it was his birthday.

He made them both giggle and cackle their heads off when he tickled the crap out of them singing a song that he was taught as a child. “The stars at night are big and bright deep in the heart of the Texas. The prairie sky is wide and hot deep in the heart of Texas…remember always four claps never three.” I smiled knowing that no matter how old they are we could never stay mad at them. Our girls would be our whole world.

“What exactly were you two thinking. Stealing the truck and driving through downtown!” I raised my voice at our two daughters sitting in the lobby chairs of where the guys worked at.

Aurora raised her hand trying to say something but she had nothing. “Mom I, we just wanted to see Uncle Sheldon and Aunt Amy.”

“So you didn’t think to wake us and up ask could we take you!” I shouted at her.

Evelyn jumped backwards in her chair whimpering at my raised tone. I never ever really yelled at them until right now. “You guys were too busy with the new baby…”

Georgie turned his head in our direction. He was leaning his back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest frustrated with them. “Well that doesn’t excuse what you two did. You two aren’t allowed to watch tv for two weeks when we get back home and no random trips to Dairy Queen either. You both understand that?”

“I’ll ride back with Penny and Montana. I think it’s better if you have them with you.” Spinning around on my feet I crossed my arms over my chest. He nodded, staring down at me, handing me my jacket that I had thrown off terrified that they were injured when we first came inside.

Penny came inside from one of the doors waving to us when she walked up. “Hey, I can follow you guys home. You know, keep an eye on them if you want. That way you two aren’t worried about little Montana.”

“Uh thanks Penny. That’s great.” I responded following her outside watching our daughters climb in the backseat of her car. Georgie and I went to his truck with me carrying Montana in my arms. Shutting the passenger door with my right hand I cradled my son in my arm’s just watching him sleep like his daddy until what Eve said came back to my mind. “Do you think that Eve was right…that we are focusing too much on this little guy?”

Georgie sent me a look having one hand on the steering wheel. “In his defense he ain’t even one year old yet. So they have nothing to be jealous about.”

“Don’t act like you don’t think about it. Remember when growing up with Sheldon you and Missy always felt left out or ignored. I don’t want anything like that to happen to our girls.” Glancing in his direction we stopped at a red light where he rested his freehand to my cheek being able to tell it was worrying me.

“Hey, stop worrying about it. They are old enough to know that we have to give him extra attention right now since he is a baby. We won’t do what my parents did to them. I promise.” He vowed simply before we made the rest of the drive back to our place. The girls were sent off to their room leaving us alone laying in our bedroom watching Montana sleep in the crib.

Laying my head on Georgie’s chest where he wrapped his arms around my waist. “Even though I am angry at them I can’t stay mad at them forever. Honestly we couldn’t even make it an hour without them on your birthday once.”

“You’re right about that, darlin’. He replied, kissing me gently where I ran one hand through his curly hair remembering his eighteenth birthday.

We entered the restaurant where I was wearing a dark green dress and a Jean jacket thrown over it. I had some ankle brown boots on it. Georgie had on some jeans with a red shirt and we had Connie watching the kids for us. “You really didn’t have to take me out tonight. Especially since we are having dinner with my family tomorrow.”

“Georgie, don’t worry. You deserve to have some fun on your birthday. You only turn eighteen once in your life so let me treat you.” I shrug my shoulders, forking some of his chimechonga since we decided to split just one.

He smiled, shoving some food in his mouth pointing the fork end at me. “It is weird though by this point Eve would have been starting a food fight.”

“Oh right. Remember the time when Aurora decided to stick the cheese sticks in her mouth and pretended to be a walrus. I almost spit out my food that night.”

Georgie snorted, picturing the memory. “The victory dances that they would do when they managed to beat us at bowling when they can use the bumpers…huh crap Y/n. I think we have to head home.”

“You’re missing them too don’t you?” He nodded to my question where I grabbed my coat following him toward the door throwing some money down on the table. He pushed open the door to Meemaw’s house seeing that the girls were passed out under some blankets on the couch meaning that his meemaw was asleep in her own room.

He leaned his elbows on the back of the couch smiling down at the little angels. “Thank you for taking me out for Mexican. But I just want to stay right here. These two make my birthday great.” He kissed me slowly and I smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too and happy birthday.” Laying my head on his shoulder I smiled Intertwining our hands together. “They really are the best thing to ever happen to you and me.”

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[strscollide]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Love

a/n: this is part 1 of a 2 part fic with Nanami <3 part 2 will be nsfw

tags: reader worrying about Nanami, fluff

・ ゜ ʚɞ ゜ ゜

He had promised he’d be home sooner than this, two hours ago in fact. You knew he was just stuck at work, your lover is not one to be disloyal. This fact makes you worry more, given his line of work, anything could have happened to him. You paced your living room, having discarded your phone long ago, anxiously calling and texting him to no avail until your eventual surrender to this tactic.

You keep a careful eye on the clock, watching as the hand moves further around, pulling more at your confidence of Nanami’s return.

At some point you tire, sitting on the couch helplessly and leaning your head against the back, screwing your eyes shut, praying to whatever divine powers out there that your partner returns to you. Before you know it, you doze off, succumbing to your exhaustion directly derived by your intense worrying.

With no knowledge of how much later youre awoken by a soft noise, you notice you’d been moved from the couch to your bed. Half sitting up with your eyes still focusing, you notice a tall figure obscuring some of the light coming in from your joined bathroom.

Nanami.

The blonde man is drying off his face, the shirt he wore to work today discarded on the floor, drenched in blood. You scrunch up your nose at the thought of having to hand wash the dried blood out and before you can actually say anything, your lovers tired, but affectionate voice speaks your thoughts

“I’ll wash it out, you don’t need to worry about it, Dove.” You look up at his face, shifting to your side and smiling slightly at him, watching him intently as he finally casts a glance at you, his eyes shining.

“Mm you’d better.” You reply, your voice slightly hoarse having not used it for a few hours in your sleep. “You worried me, Nanami.”

He places the towel down, looking down at it for a few seconds before moving out of the bathroom and towards you on the bed. He kneels in front of your side and grabs one of your hands gently.

“I know, y/n. i’m sorry.” he presses a kiss to your palm, sparking a small smile on your face. “I couldn’t let Itadori handle it by himself, though. He would have died.” his voice grows lower before he looks at you again, his blonde locks sitting wet on his forehead drawing you into admiring him as you often did.

“I know.” is all you say, you’re not a sorcerer, nor does nanami ever want you involved in sorcery if you can help it. you have a very weak ability to sense curses but that stems only from your mother being a sorcerer, dulled by your father having no abilities at all. you place your other hand over his, brushing your thumb over his skin.

“I just wish it wasn’t so dangerous.” you pull him up, him following your guide as you shift back over to his side, dragging him onto the bed. his arms immediately wrap around you, pulling you in closer than should be possible. you melt into him, face buried in his shoulder. you feel him nod, thumbs feathering over your skin in a soothing touch, something he often did when he could tell you were anxious.

“I do too, Dove. if I could spend every waking moment just caring for you and no one else, then my life would be the complete image of perfection.” he whispers to you, and you feel butterflies in your stomach as he says it, though you’d been together for years, Nanami never failed to make you blush.

“Sleep, Dove. I have the day off tomorrow, we can talk more then.” His voice is hushed and warm, and with not a second thought you begin to doze off, feeling safe in your lovers arms.

Tomorrow is a new day, one hopefully absent of the stress you experienced today.