#another part of my grocery store series

[maskt]

groceries for dogs

[moonstruckme]

Are you going to continue the roomate James series? I’m actually in love with it😍

Yes! Thank you for reading <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 804 words

“Honey, I’m home!” 

A smile tugs at your lips, even as you roll your eyes to yourself. James has become more and more fond of these pet names, and of announcing his comings and goings like he’s worried you’ll miss him. (He’s never gone long enough for that, though you might actually miss him if he were.) If you don’t respond in some way or another, he’ll—

“Hey.” He pokes his head through your cracked door. “You alive in here?” 

You pause in folding your laundry to give him a deadpan look. “I could have been in my underwear.” 

He looks mildly horrified. “I’d hope if you were, you’d close the door all the way.” 

“You know, I did manage to stay alive even before you moved in.” 

James leans on your doorframe, giving you the sort of lazy grin you have to pretend doesn’t scare butterflies into flight in your stomach. You really hope that wears off soon. “See, but now I’m convinced if I don’t check on you, you really will die and it’ll be my fault.” 

“How would it be your fault?” 

“Classic case of roommate neglect. I smell the rotting coming from inside your room, the police come, they ask How did you not know your roommate was dead for a month? I reply, Well, officer, she said she could be galavanting in her underwear at any moment. They put me in handcuffs and I spend the next five to fifteen years having Sirius bring me cigarettes I don’t want so that I can trade them for ramen noodles in the yard.” 

You scoff, fighting a smile. “As if you would ever eat ramen.” 

“That’s what I’m saying, sweetheart. You’d be forcing me upon desperate times. But hey,” he raises his hands in a show of surrender, “I didn’t come in here to discuss prison currency. Would it be alright with you if I had friends over tonight?” 

“Of course,” you say, looking back down to match a pair of socks. “You don’t need to ask every time, it’s always alright.” 

“Thanks,” he says warmly, “but it makes me feel better to ask. What do you want on your pizza?” 

You blink. “Me?” 

“Yes, you.” He smiles. Butterflies all over again. “You don’t have to hang out with us to eat it—though we’d love to have you—but I’m not just going to order pizza to your own apartment without having any for you.” 

“It’s your apartment, too,” you remind him. “That’d be a very normal thing to do.” 

“Irregardless.” James waves you off. You wrinkle your nose at the word choice. “What do you want?” 

You swallow a sigh. There are some things, you’ve found, James is nearly impossible to argue with about. If you really dig your heels in, sometimes you can make him move first, but you don’t feel like it right now. 

You do the next best thing you can think of: choosing the least obtrusive option. “Cheese is good with me, thanks.” 

His eyes narrow like he knows what you’re doing, but he says, “Got it. I’ll let you know when it’s here.” 

“Thanks.” You turn your attention back to your laundry. James lingers in the doorway. 

A month ago, you would have kept ignoring him, working on the (unfounded) hope that he’d go away. Now, you look up. 

“Do you think you might come downstairs and hang out?” he asks. He has a strange look on his face, one you can’t quite decipher. “You know you’re always invited.” 

You give James a terse sort of smile. He’s not stopped inviting you to do things since the day he moved in. Your open invitation has been made very clear, and you’ve been accepting it more often lately. James is someone who makes it easy to feel close to him. He tosses pet names at you like they’re nothing, comes to check on you when he gets home, pretends he needs to go grocery shopping just because you need a ride to the store. Last week, you’d sat down to watch a movie with him and woken up to a black screen, your cheek smushed into his shoulder and his head resting atop yours. 

Somehow, you’ve let him spill into your life without meaning to, and now you have these childish, crush-like reactions whenever he smiles a certain way or calls you pet names with that familiar bent to his voice. You know you just need time to sort these feelings out. It’d probably be ideal to keep yourself from spilling into his life as much as possible in the meantime. 

But it’s hard to deny James anything when he’s so sweet to you. And he’s nice. His friends seem nice. 

“I might,” you say. 

“I’ll take the win,” James replies, smiling. These butterflies are seriously inconvenient.

[cevansbrat0007]

Regrets Only.

Summary: Ari reaches his limit with your latest TikTok prank...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Smut, Ari Being A Menace, TikTok Pranks, Shenanigans, Angry!Ari, Brat!Reade, Small Chase Kink, Light Manhandling. Biting, Spanking, Bondage, Handcuffs, Overstimulation, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt courtesy of @jamneuromain. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

In all the times you’ve tried, you’ve never once regretted pranking your man with something you’d seen on TikTok – until today. Yes. Believe it or not, this time you might’ve gone a bit too far. 

Which is why you’re currently holed up in Ari’s fairly spacious closet, sipping on a bottle of water and munching on a granola bar while you wait for the bounty hunter to calm down. You lean back with a sigh, only to wince when you feel a shoe digging into your side. 

You make quick work of tossing it to the other side of the room before returning to the treat in your hand. But just as you go to take another bite, you hear something that makes your stomach sink - even as your pulse spikes. 

And it lets you know that you are well and truly fucked.

Earlier That Day (Roughly Twenty-Seven Minutes Ago)

After a solid ten minutes of vigorous stretching, you bend down to check the laces on your tennis shoes. Once they’re secure, you quietly make your way to the kitchen to retrieve the items you needed for your latest prank. The one you planned to play on your favorite unsuspecting bounty hunter, who was blissfully snoring away on a couch in the living room. 

Now, this particular one just so happened to be a little…bolder than either of your previous stunts. It required more courage, coupled with a dash of bravery, and a well thought out Plan B in the event things went south. 

You open the refrigerator and pull out the pack of hot dogs you’d bought during your last trip from the grocery store. While you’d originally told Ari that you wanted him to put them on the grill, he had no way of knowing that they would also be used to torture him. Common sense told you that you’d be better off keeping that tiny piece of information to yourself. 

Stifling a mischievous giggle, you extract one singular frankfurter from the package before resealing it and putting it away. Next, you move to your utility drawer to gleefully swipe a pair of scissors. 

This was the entire plan. You were going to quietly tuck a hot dog in your man’s zipper, and then wake him up so he could watch you snip it in half with a pair of scissors. In all the videos you watched – and you’d watched a number of them – every bleary eyed victim panicked as if you’d just cut off their actual dick. 

And therein lay the prank. 

The clips had left you in stitches for hours. So much so that Ari had noticed how much fun you were having, only to roll his eyes when you revealed that you were scrolling through his least favorite app on your phone.

Fucking TikTok.

He hated it. You loved it. Frankly, the only reason he even tolerated you telling him about the things you’d seen is because he could tell it brought you joy. 

Excitement buzzes through you as you tiptoe into the living room. You’re grateful to see that Ari is still sleeping, snoring soundly with one impressively muscled arm tucked behind his head. 

With gentle hands, you dutifully undo the zipper of his Levi’s before carefully inserting the hot dog. Since you don’t want to mess this up, you make sure to go slow, taking your time. You just knew this prank was going to be epic. 

Once that’s done, you briefly take a second to wipe your hands on your leggings before taking a deep breath. Well, it was now or never. Go big or go home, as they say. 

Leaning down, you grab Ari by the shoulder, attempting to jostle him awake. It takes a couple tries, but he does eventually open his eyes.

“Whaa–?” A grin breaks out across his handsome features as he emerges from his sleepy haze. “Hey, baby.”

“Hiya, Beast.” You offer him what you hope looks like your most unhinged smile and the reveal the pair of scissors that, up until now, you’d kept hidden behind your back. “How’s about I take a little off the top?” You sing, brandishing the shears. 

“The hell?” His confused blue eyes go wide as they follow the path of the scissors. Shock overcomes him as he watches, in what feels like slow motion, as you cut off a sizable portion of the frank. 

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” He roars, grabbing himself as he scrambles off the couch and onto the floor before proceeding to do the funniest, most awkward backwards crab walk you’ve ever seen in your life. 

You double over with laughter as Ari struggles to come to grips with the fact that you definitely did not just make him the next John Bobbitt your Lorena. He’s breathing hard as he rips the hot dog out of his zipper, holding it up to the light. 

“Oh my God, that was amazing!” You wheeze.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” He tosses the damned thing across the room before covering his face with his hands as he wills himself to calm down. “Have you lost your fuckin’ mind?”

Wiping tears from your eyes, you decide to put the bounty hunter out of his misery by whispering his least favorite phrase: “It was a prank!” A renewed wave of laughter hits you when you recall just how gobsmacked he’d been by the whole ordeal. God, your sides hurt something fierce. 

“Just what in the ever loving fuck would make you think that was funny?” Ari growls low in his throat as he finally sits up. And the look he’s giving you now…

It’s hot enough to burn right through you. And not in a sexy way.

“That’s just the magic of TikTok, I guess.” Your smile wanes as you watch your severely irritated boyfriend slowly climb to his feet. “I mean, you should’ve seen your face when–”

“When what?” Comes his quiet rumble, the sound reverberating deep in his chest. “When I thought you cut my dick off just now? Is that–is that what you’re laughing about?” The smile he offers you looks a little less than friendly.

“Um yeah. I’d say so.”

Instinct, as well as the need for self-preservation, has you taking a cautious step backwards. You were prepared to run if you had to. It was the whole reason why you’d stretched in the first place.

“Oh yeah?” Ari scrubs a palm over his ticking jaw. “Is that so?”

Instead of responding you decide to simply nod. Oh, and take another step backwards, of course.

“I’m sure that if you’d maybe stop and think about it –”

“Why don’t you c’mere so I can show you just how much I appreciate your so-called sense of humor?” He motions you forward, opening up his waiting arms. 

But you know better. 

“I, uh…” You hedge, bracing your hands in front of you. “Can see you might need some more time to appreciate the joke. So I’m just gonna…um…” You blow out a breath. “Give you some space so you can – eeeep!”

An incensed Ari picks that moment to strike - lunging at you with a speed that belies his size. Thank goodness you’re prepared. Ducking under his arms, you spin around and make a mad dash for the stairs. Squealing, you take them two at a time, hoping to make it to your sanctuary before he can get his hands on you. 

“Get your ass back here, Bird!” 

No way, pal!

Heart pumping, you grab the doorframe and all but slingshot yourself into Ari’s bedroom, slamming the door behind you. While it would only buy you a couple of seconds, that was really all you needed. 

You dive headlong into a nearby closet before swiftly closing the door and hitting the lock. As your chest heaves, you decide to take a seat on the floor before reaching for the bottle of water you’d previously planted in your hiding spot.

After guzzling almost half, you replace the cap. You knew you ought to conserve your rations. Just in case you were stuck here for a while. 

“I’m not on your shit today, baby. Okay? Today your man’s got time!” Ari bellows seconds later. “So, if I were you, I’d come on out now!”

Shaking your head, you vow to stay silent. So you say nothing, even when he tries the knob on the door that separates him from you. 

“Open up, sweetheart!”

Again you say nothing, in favor of unwrapping one of your favorite granola bars. They were the chewy kind, the ones that tasted more like dessert than they did something healthy.  

“I’ll come out when you calm down!” You finally yell back after you chew and swallow. “Fucking Beast.” You grumble under your breath.

“Oh, I’m more than calm.” The weight of his sardonic chuckle is not lost on you. “Why don’t you come on out and see?” You can’t help but jump when one of his fists pounds on the door. “I swear…I just wanna talk.”

“I don’t believe you!” 

“You’re gonna open this door, darlin’.”

“No, I’m not!” You hiss, throwing one of his shoes at the wall for good measure.

“Yes, you are.” Ari hits back. “Now, you can either come out on your own, or…”

“Or else what?” 

“Or, I’ll come in there and get you. And trust me, little Bird…that’s the last thing you want.”

“Yeah?” You spit, meanwhile inwardly lamenting your man’s lack of a sense of humor for the umpteenth time. “Well…” You take another bite of your granola bar. “I’d like to see you try.”

Famous last words.

Ari whistles low, making you shiver. “Wait right there, baby. I’ll see you in a minute.”

You let out a sigh of relief once you get the sense that you’re finally alone. As funny as it all had seemed initially, you were quickly coming to regret this particular prank. The longer you sat in this closet, the more you began to honestly examine – and then reexamine – your life choices.

Perhaps it was time to give your newfound love of pranking your bounty hunter a break. Lips pursed in thought, you allow yourself another bite of your chewy bar. Only to frown when you hear a very familiar sound that fills you with instant regret.  

Apparently Ari had returned. And he’d brought his power drill. Fuck!

Your mouth goes dry as the sound grows louder. And then you’re forced to watch in horror as your man makes fast work of literally removing the closet door from its hinges. It was the last thing you ever expected your normally rather patient and understanding boyfriend to do. 

“There’s my girl.” Ari’s dangerous purr comes as he picks up the now useless slab or wood and sets it aside like it weighs almost nothing. “C’mon out of there so we can talk.” 

When you don’t move, your bounty hunter decides to come get you. He hauls you out by your wrist, making sure not to bruise you in the process.

“Beast, don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic? I mean – ooh!” You scoff, only to rise on your toes when his free hand comes down on your vulnerable ass. Hard.

“Ow!”

“Let me make something very clear here, darlin’.” He leads you over to the bed before sitting down and then pulling you over his knee. “You want to waste time messin’ around on that stupid app you love so much? Fine.” Ari slaps your rump again, forcing you to bury your face in the covers to keep from crying out. 

“But where I’m gonna draw the line right now is you testin’ ‘em out on me. Unless you’re in that kitchen whipping up a new recipe I am not to be your guinea pig. You get me?”

His heavy palm comes down hard again when you don’t respond. This time he takes a moment to massage your cotton covered backside. “Do. You. Get. Me.” Each word is peppered by a solid smack.

“Yes!” You wail, although it comes out slightly muffled. 

Still not satisfied, Ari goes to grip the waistband of your leggings, dragging them down to your ankles, complete with your simple, white cotton panties. “This could’ve been a relaxing Sunday for us, little Bird. Just mindin’ our own business.” You can’t help but shiver when you feel him fondle your upturned ass, molding and massaging your burning cheeks. “But you just had to go and be a brat, didn’t you?”

“I–I’m sorry!”

It was too little, too late. And you both knew it.

“Oh now, you’re sorry.” He mocks before raining down a fury of perfectly-timed smacks. “I love you, baby. I do. But I also know you. You’re not really sorry – at least not yet.” 

Ari eases out from beneath you, all the while demanding that you remain face down with your reddened ass pushed up in the air so that he can enjoy the view while he prepares the next part of your punishment. And you had best believe you feel his sharp teeth sink into the left globe of your ass before he goes.

Consider it a parting gift.

One Hour Later…

And that’s how you found yourself handcuffed to the bed, courtesy of the signature purple, butter leather cuffs he’d had made for you. Unfortunately for you, you’d learned that he’d recently purchased another set…

For your ankles.

Your bounty hunter smiles as he picks up one of your vibrators – the one you’d purchased together – before applying it to your already oversensitive clit. Bucking your hips, you try to escape the torture.

With no such luck.

You desperately tug at your restraints, even as your cries fall on deaf ears. No matter how many times you promised to never play another prank on him ever again, it still wasn’t enough. Instead he’d continued to keep you bound while he worked out his anger…

By ruthlessly overstimulating your poor, sweat slicked body. No matter how many times you came, no matter how many times you threatened to scream yourself hoarse, he kept demanding more.

Because, according to Ari, since you’d taken a few years off his life, you apparently owed him as many orgasms by way of apology as you were able to give. Which meant you were going to be sore as hell tomorrow. 

Which was why, in this moment, although you could feel another orgasm threatening to overtake you, you were filled with nothing but…

Regrets only.

END  

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[lilacstro]

part of fortune and what can be actually fated in your life

hey! I KNOWWW someone will think or say, hey? wait- isnt that vortex? indeed it is, but I am sharing this post from an observation series pointer I made, so you can say this is an observational post/my own theory kinda post lol. This post is again not taken from any book or source and is my own observation. If this does not make sense for you or you don't agree, it's okay, you can skip :)

I had 3 asks for this one so here we go!! I will try to keep it short and simple because I see I rant quite a lot in my posts T T. Part of fortune in:

support me on ko-fi :)

1st house/Aries: I have not really seen a chart with a part of fortune in the 1st, but this specifically makes me think your soul chose your body for completing a purpose in this life time. Some fated connection with your body, the way you look. A spiritual connection/mission that can involve a series of fated events to bring you closer to your personal missions and goals.

2nd house/Taurus: Fate with the money you have, money you receive or how you keep your money. Fate transforms your old belief systems for good. Fate with the things you speak or do at times, the way you make friends or other relationships.

3rd house/Gemini: Fate with the things you come across, maybe someday you come across a book and it changes your life, maybe a social media post and changes your life. Fate with siblings, maybe they connect you to you destiny or you connect them to theirs. Fate encounters you at mundane places you go to, maybe your neighborhood park or the grocery store. Some fate with the place you grew up in

4th house/Cancer: Fate in the family you are born into. Fated connection with the mother, might connect your mother to her higher purpose and destiny. Might impart fate to mother.

5th house/Leo: Fate in children. Your children might be sent to you for a higher purpose. Fate in things you enjoy and your creative pursuits, maybe they turn into something more profitable someday, maybe they are trying to connect you to something important

6th house/Virgo: Fate in Service. You maybe sent to people to help them, a godsend in some cases. Things change overnight, some small conversation changes everything at once. Finding out small things that lead to bigger ones, and another and another. You enter the lives of people when they need your light/guidance

7th house/Libra: Fate in close partnerships and people you encounter. Fate in people you make friends with, interact with. Vibes of small conversation with a stranger at a store leads to someone very important in your life. You can learn a lot from people your close circle.

8th house/Scorpio: Fate in protection and redirection. Fate in change. Whatever you struggle to leave behind or hold on tight to or actually decide not to let go off, may actually be taken away, yet, you will see how it was for your absolute best and higher purpose. Fate with inheritance or gains from other people.

9th house/Sagittarius: Having fated destinations to go to, fate involvement in what higher studies you do, where you go for your higher studies and how it plays out. Encountering fate in regards to getting wisdom, your prayers are answered sooner or later. Right place, right time.

10th house/Capricorn: A Fated occupational destination and position, might end up doing completely different from what you once imagined, fate in the people you meet who help you professionally or lead you to your true calling. May impart fortune to father. Fate brings you to dispensing karma to other people.

11th house/Aquarius: Meeting Fated people, FRIENDS, finding people to help you in need ALWAYS. Encountering fated connections that later help you in life somehow even if they are lost. Being able to have connections/meet influential/powerful people somehow, unexpectedly.

12th house/Pisces: Encountering fate in regards to esoteric wisdom, spirituality and spiritual self. Fate in regards to encountering unexpected, distant things. Maybe the thoughts and dreams you had that seemed unachievable will come true. Maybe your fate takes you to people who you never thought you would get close with or places you thought you would never go to. Fate with things and connections that probably were incomplete in the past life.

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paid readings are open btw:)

thank you so much for the read<33 i love you all

[hansensgirl]

💸 — 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 (2/3)

summary. | The mob boss has an alternate way you can pay off your debt.

pairing. | dark!mob boss!Ari Levinson x naive!fem!reader.

chapter warnings. | NON/DUBCON, dark themes, obsession, stalking, mob themes, manipulation, pet names, age gap, innocence kink, abuse of power, corruption kink, power imbalance, smoking (ari), debt, Daddy kink, control kink, rules, verbal contract, loss of employee, anxiety/fear, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

word count. | ~2k

author’s note. | series masterlist. here’s part two (finally)! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. any and all feedback (positive) is welcome. no beta, all mistakes are my own. taglist: @hansensfics. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY!

When you arrive at work the next day—stocking shelves at a grocery store—your boss regards you with far more contempt than before.

Your brows remain knitted as she approaches you, your uniforms matching, except she’s allowed to wear a sweater on top. You must suffer in the cold, with an aching back and sore arms and legs. She says your name to grab your full attention, which doesn’t take much, what with the boredom that drives you to death here.

“Why are you here?” Lydia asks. You’re confused. “…I work here?” you answer with a slight laugh to your tone, though you aren’t amused. You prefer to just do your job without a hitch.

“You don’t. And I don’t accept volunteers,” she nearly sneers, and you halt what you’re doing. She’s never been very nice, but this is another level. The cans of beans can wait. “What are you talking about, Lydia? Is this a joke?” you question, placing your hands on your hips.

“I fuckin’ wish. Your little mob boyfriend came around last night—said you quit,” she explains, and her words are bewildering. Once the absurdity blurs and the meaning hits you, you start to think. You rack your brain as to who would’ve done something like that.

Ari.

“Listen, I’ve already got a girl coming in later today. The job isn’t hard, s’not like I’m dying for you to stay,” Lydia sighs. Her words are harsh, but you expect nothing kind from the woman who is all too eager to fill her pockets.

“Go home. Don’t come back here,” your boss demands. You flinch from how she spits her words, watching as she walks off to harass one of your coworkers. Ex-coworkers.

You’re filled with ire as you pack your things up and say goodbye to people you’ve known for so long. As you walk home, you think about Lydia’s words. Why would Ari do something like that? You never hurt him—so why would he hurt you?

You start to worry about the grander things, too. You have no source of income anymore, just what you’ve saved. Soon, the bills will come in, and your rent will be due.

You near your home and spy a car parked outside. It’s fancy—an emulation of a vintage Impala. But it doesn’t belong in front of your dingy condominium. You know who owns it.

Some neighbours that loiter outside watch you. You’ve never been subject to their nosiness, and the feeling of scrutiny—the knowledge of judgement—is unwelcome. But that’s the least of your worries.

The mob leader is inside your home, and you have to confront him. What if Ari changed his mind about the deal? And he’s here to kill you? Your hands shake as you open the door, unable to prolong the confrontation. There is no upstairs—therefore, nowhere to run.

You swing the door open to find Ari sitting on your couch, watching the news on your television. He wears another one of his fancy suits—similar to the one from yesterday, but in a different colour. He sips something from one of your favourite mugs and sighs in relief afterwards.

You close the door behind you quietly. The locks click in place, and the sounds prompt Ari to look at you.

“Hey, hon,” he greets, giving you a charming smile. “H– Hi, Ari…” you respond, shrugging off your jacket and handing it on the lone hook. “You’ve got a nice home here,” Ari compliments, and you awkwardly press your lips together.

“Thanks,” you murmur, inching towards the kitchen. It isn’t much—the epitome of honest work. You take the compliment, though you’re unsure how you should feel. He lives in mansions bigger than you could possibly imagine. What’s so impressive about your small world?

The fact that he can turn it upside down—put a dent in it, shake it up, and it wouldn’t take much.

The television switches off, and the mob boss sighs. He stands up and saunters into the kitchen. You never realized how tall he is until now. You crane your head up to look at him, but the intensity of Ari’s gaze is too much to bear. You guide your gaze to the tiles.

“I needed to talk to you,” he starts, and you set the mug you had grabbed onto the countertop. Your thirst can wait. “Y– You have my number, right?” you ask, hoping your tone doesn’t come off as rude. Your voice is shaky with fear.

Ari grunts, eyes never once leaving your face. “You’re right. I do,” he agrees. You never gave it to him—he took it.

“But I prefer this. Being with you—talking to you, not texting,” Ari explains. You nod, briefly gazing at him before resuming your staring at the floor. Suddenly, a warm, large hand comes up to your chin and tilts your head up.

You’re forced to meet the older man’s gaze. For the first time, you note that his eyes are a beautiful shade of blue. There’s even a hint of green swirled into the oceans. “There are a few things we need to discuss. Important things,” Ari tells you.

“Like what?” you breathlessly ask. “Rules,” he says.

The thought of having rules isn’t as insulting as you want it to be. They would serve as guidelines—lifelines, little things you can hold onto for the next few months.

“C’mon, honey. Let’s go sit. I’m sure you’re tired after your long walk home,” Ari urges, guiding you to the living room with ease. You let him do whatever he wants—and that more than pleases the mob boss. But he doesn’t let you sit down.

First, Ari sits on the wingback chair you snagged from a yard sale at a decent price. Then, he pulls you onto his lap. You let out an ‘oomph!’ at the rudeness of his actions. He’s brazen and confident, everything you will never be, even in your lonesome times.

Ari lets out an exhale of relaxation, settling you on his thighs until both of you are comfortable. He holds you gently yet firmly, thumbs stroking your skin to get you to calm down.

“Doesn’t this feel nice? Right?” the older man asks, but you’re not sure how to respond. Your honesty is embarrassing, but your deceit will offend him. “I– It does,” you admit, much to your chagrin.

“Exactly—so why fight it? Why fight me?” Ari questions, and you shrug. You’ve never been good at confrontation. “I– I’m not. I’m just… confused. I’ve never done this before. I’ve never even dated anyone!” you exclaim, though your voice is nothing more than a whisper.

Ari shushes you, one of his hands rubbing circles on your back so that you don’t get worked up. “Shh… It’s okay. Don’t worry,” he tells you, his tone gentle and full of patience—kindness, perhaps even love. The idea is baffling.

“All that purity is what makes you so precious,” he whispers in your ear, nose nuzzling the side of your head. He smells of cigarettes and expensive cologne. “And that’s exactly why I want you, sweetie. You’re… innocent. Perfect. All mine…”

You sigh shakily at his words. They have you flustered. No man has ever charmed you the way he has. “Th– Thank you…”

“I’m here for you, princess. Anything you need, you come to me. Got that?” he reassures, and you nod your head. You doubt you’ll ever ask Ari for anything—but you do have a question for him.

“C– Can I ask you something?” you wonder. The mob boss smiles and gives you the go. “Did you go to my job and tell them I quit?”

A few moments of silence pass. “Yes, and I wanted to tell you this before, but I had to take care of some other stuff,” he quickly explains, but his words are slow and calm. They’re not rushed or panicked.

“You always wake up early, so I didn’t have enough time to get here before you went to work,” Ari finishes, lips pressed into a line, showing just how disappointed he is in himself.

“I– I’m not upset about that,” you clarify, looking down at your hands. “Then what is it, sugar? Hm?” he presses.

The pet names make you feel so sweet in the mind, almost hazy. You’ve always dreamed of love like this—but you know what you and Ari have isn’t love. You’ve always been naive, but you’re a realist.

“What am I supposed to do? I need money to live, Ari,” you say almost incredulously. Ari’s smile grows like he’s holding back a secret that he’s been dying to tell you.

“I told you not to worry about these things, honey,” he chides. “I’ll take care of you—as long as you follow the rules,” Ari warns, but he remains kind. So far, in your eyes, the benefits are all too enticing.

Will the rules be the other shoe that’s been waiting to drop? No, impossible—Ari is too kind to be so cruel.

“What are the rules?” you ask him. “They’re pretty simple, nothing you need to worry your little head about,” Ari coos, making you feel much more relaxed.

“Firstly, you always have to look at me when I’m speaking to you,” he begins, spreading his thighs out just a bit as he settles further into the chair. You mindlessly nod before catching yourself and correcting your error.

You reluctantly make eye contact with Ari, which bears to be too much, so you settle for staring at the beauty marks littered across his face.

“Good girl,” he hums. The praise makes you feel warm on the inside—safe, even in the arms of the most dangerous man in the city.

“Secondly,” Ari resumes, eyes remaining locked with yours. You take the time to admire the little details on his face. The freckles and beauty spot, the grey hairs in his beard, and the battle scar on his forehead slightly covered by his long locks. “You don’t call me ‘Ari,’ baby. It’s ‘Daddy’ from now on.”

The question of why—and even a negotiation to have this rule only apply behind closed doors—fizzles on your tongue. Instead, you acquiesce.

“Yes… Daddy.”

Ari lets out a small growl at your words. You actually saying the word is much better than he ever imagined. The mob boss can feel blood rushing to his cock, but he wills himself to stay strong. Not yet—it’s too soon, he thinks to himself.

“Thirdly, honey,” he continues, voice laboured and a bit gruff. “You’re not allowed to tell me ‘no.’ Ever.”

Ari firmly lays down the third law, leaving no room for your freedom. You can feel your independence slipping away, but you reassure yourself. It’ll only be for a few months. Perhaps this is for your own good. Yes, that’s it.

“Okay…” you whisper under your breath. Ari ignores your slight mishap. He knows you’ll return to being his perfect girl in no time. He understands—ever the kind man.

“Lastly—and most importantly—is that you must always listen to me, no matter what,” he gently adds. Ari runs his hands up and down your back, soothing you from how he’s completely changed your world. “Got it all, baby?” the older man asks.

You hesitate before nodding. “Good girl,” Ari coos, and you can’t help but smile. He’s sweeter than you believed. “Now, I could make you sign a contract,” he sighs, his gentle face morphing into one that looks stressed, perhaps even disappointed. There is a pang in your heart.

“But I trust you. Don’t ruin that.”

A threat hangs in the air, but you’re too grateful to see it. Ari knows this all too well, and he can’t help but feel pride over how he managed to get you to fall into his lap. What would a girl like you ever do without a strong man like him by your side? Not much, that’s what.

“I won’t, Daddy. I promise,” you eventually break the silence, and you’re gifted with Ari’s knee-buckling smile.

[punkshort]

somewhere to run | 12. the trial pt.1

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Madeline preps you for the first day of the trial and shares a surprise witness being called to Patrick's defense, and Patrick requests to speak to you unexpectedly.

Chapter Warnings: language, smut (MDNI 18+), phone sex, m and f masturbation, dirty talk, mother issues (could be perceived as parental emotional abuse, and probably is), possessive!joel, recounting of previous DV and SA

WC: 7.2K

A/N: If anything in this chapter jumps out as you like 'I don't think that's how the law works', just move past it. I had Google and a dream.

Series Masterlist

The flickering florescent lights from the grocery store were starting to give you a headache as you slowly made your way up and down the aisles, occasionally stopping to grab a bag of chips or some mac and cheese. It was late. The store was quiet. You were supposed to be buying things to keep in your hotel room when you got to Austin, but you could hardly focus. You had the weekend to pack, buy supplies, and check into your room before meeting with Madeline on Monday. She was planning on using most of the day to prepare you for the trial, which was scheduled to start first thing Tuesday morning, and your nerves were a mess. And to make matters worse, Joel wouldn't be able to get to Austin until the morning of the trial.

The one silver lining was your divorce. Madeline felt confident after speaking to his lawyer that Patrick would be signing the papers this week. The cynical part of you wondered if there was a catch because Patrick was never one to take things lying down, but you tried to push it out of your mind. Instead, you focused on the variety of microwavable popcorn in front of you. Butter, lightly salted, movie theater... would you even notice much of a difference? You stepped forward to grab the first box you saw when another person unexpectedly walked right into you. You had been so lost in your own thoughts, you didn't even hear someone else coming down the aisle.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," you began. When you looked up to meet their eyes, the polite smile you had forced across your face immediately fell.

"Nikki, hi," you said, taking a small step back towards your cart. "My fault, I wasn't paying attention."

She tossed you a thin smile and not so subtly eyed you up and down.

"Haven't seen you in a while. Read anything good recently?" she asked icily, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

"Not really. I haven't had much time," you told her, averting your gaze down the empty aisle.

"Oh, that's right. I heard you're getting a divorce," she said with a little pout, and you nodded as the heat began to creep up your chest. "Gotta make sure all those papers are signed before you go jumping into someone else's bed, right?"

"Excuse me?" you sputtered, lips parting in surprise. You thought she would have been a little more subtle than that.

"I hope you at least made sure he was worth it before leaving your husband for him, because woman to woman, I gotta warn you... it's nothing to write home about," she told you with a wink. You frowned and took another step back.

"I'm not leaving my husband because of Joel-"

"Oh, no, of course not!" she said cheerily.

"N-no, really, nothing's going on-"

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," she whispered, giving you one more fake smile before turning on her heel and waltzing down the aisle, leaving you in shock.

"Jesus Christ," you muttered to yourself as you absentmindedly rubbed your eyes. Angrily, you reached out and snatched the box of popcorn before turning your cart in the opposite direction.

You hated the idea of someone in this small town having it out for you. She had been swaying the entire female population to turn on you just because she went on a couple dates with Joel and she figured out he had feelings for you, which was hardly your fault. But you thanked your lucky stars she didn't seem to know just how close you and Joel really were, because if she did, there was no doubt in your mind she would have spread that news like wildfire.

Impulsivity won and you swung your cart down the candy aisle, throwing far too many items into your basket.

To hell with Nikki. She had no idea what you were going through and you didn't have time for her high-school bullshit, so you forced yourself to move past it. Besides, you had much more important things to worry about. Like if you should buy Reese's or Snickers.

"I hate all my clothes."

"C'mon, they can't be that bad," Joel's voice filtered through your phone. You tapped the speakerphone button and dropped it onto your bed in order to free up both your hands, then held up two ugly blouses against your chest while you looked in the mirror.

"They really are," you told him, scrunching up your nose. "But Madeline told me if I wore stuff like this, it would look more sympathetic to a jury. Like I'm some poor, modest housewife in need of saving," you said with a roll of your eyes.

"Well, if Maddy told you to wear somethin' specific, you should listen to her. She knows what she's doin'. I've known her a long time, this isn't her first rodeo."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," you grumbled, picking up a couple of skirts that, in your opinion, were far too long and didn't make you feel very confident.

"You look beautiful in anything," he said, his voice dropping an octave lower.

"Thanks, but you're biased," you teased, and you heard a soft chuckle float through the speaker.

"Yeah, maybe," he agreed. There was a small pause as you continued to sift through your clothes, then he asked, "are you tryin' anythin' on right now?"

"No, once at the store was plenty," you huffed, then began folding the skirts up to place them in the bottom of your suitcase.

There was another pause before he spoke again.

"Then what are you wearin'?"

Your hands stilled and you sucked in a breath when you finally realized what he had been hinting at the past few minutes. Glancing down, you grimaced at your favorite pair of stained sweatpants and a tank top that had fraying straps, but you refused to throw it away because it made you feel skinny.

"A tank top," you finally answered, leaving out the part about your ratty old sweatpants.

"Mm, the white one?"

"Yes," you replied, your pulse already thrumming steadily in your throat at the line of questioning.

"Wish I was there with you," he said, his voice low just in case Sarah could hear from her bedroom. "I can see right through that top, drives me fuckin' crazy."

Glancing in the mirror, you realized he was right. You could see the outline of your nipples clear as day in the right lighting.

"Joel, is this a good idea?" you asked, but found yourself flopping down on your bed anyway next to your phone, your fingers dancing at your waistband.

"You're stressed, right?" he asked, his voice a little breathless now and you knew he must have been stroking himself. You've done this dance too many times.

"Yes," you whispered.

"Lemme help you relax, then."

You chewed on your lower lip as you stared up at your ceiling. You knew doing this with him complicated things and you were supposed to be able to take the stand in a few days and honestly say you weren't in a relationship with Joel, but the lines were too blurred and at this point, you had no idea how you would answer that question.

Then again, what difference would one more time make?

"Okay."

"Good girl," he murmured, and you felt yourself flutter at the praise. "Where are you right now?"

"I'm laying in bed," you told him, closing your eyes so you could focus just on his voice.

"And are you touchin' yourself?"

"No," you said, taking a deep breath. "But I want to." You heard him utter a soft groan.

"Go ahead. Just one finger and I want you to tell me how wet you are."

Slipping your hand under your waistband, you did as you were told, choosing the tip of your middle finger to slide through your folds and prod gently at your entrance.

"So wet," you murmured, then teased yourself again, collecting the arousal pooling there. "All wet because of you, Joel," you added breathily.

"Fuck, I wish I was there," he whispered again, and you slowly pushed your middle finger inside with a moan.

"W-what would you do?" you stammered as you felt the tension begin to build, a warm heat sparking low in your belly.

"I'd taste you first," he said lowly. "Only got to do it once, been dreamin' of doin' it again. You taste so fuckin' good, d'ya know that?" His accent deepened the more aroused he became, and it made your heart skip a beat.

"You're really good at it," you mumbled into the phone, your finger curling inside you, that one spot just out of reach.

"Tell me how much you liked it," he rasped, and a little groan slipped past your lips, your finger still pumping in and out.

"Loved it," you moaned, and you heard his heavy breathing now as he listened to you intently. "F-felt so good. God, that tongue... my thighs burned the next day from your beard. Felt it all night at work... thought about you s-so much. Fuck, Joel, I need more," you whined, your back arching pathetically.

"Add another finger and play with your clit, baby," he whispered, and you thought you could hear him fucking his fist on the other end, but his heavy pants drowned out the noise. You did as he said, gasping in relief at the extra stimulation while your legs began to shake.

"Joel-" you whimpered, but he cut you off.

"When this is all over, I'm gonna wake you up every mornin' with my mouth between your legs," he said with a grunt. "Would'ya like that? Hm? You want my tongue inside that tight little pussy? Want me to suck on your clit til you can't remember your name?"

"Oh, fuck, Joel, I-I think I'm gonna come," you cried out softly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your finger rubbed fast little circles over your clit, your hips rocking against the heel of your hand as you chased your release.

"Go ahead, lemme hear you. Say my name, baby," he panted, his voice cracking, and you knew he was close. "Tell me - shit - tell me I'm the only man who's ever made you come."

And you did just that.

You fell over the edge, his name tumbling from your mouth over and over as you soaked your own hand, and once you got your bearings, you moaned about how good he made you feel, how no one else could ever compare, how you couldn't wait until he was in your bed again because your own fingers no longer satisfied you now that you've had him. You kept talking until you heard a sharp intake of breath and a low, muffled groan on the other end of the line, leaving each of you quietly panting for air.

"Feel better?" he asked after a few minutes, and even though he couldn't see you, you smirked.

"Yes," you whispered. You could hear him shifting around in his bed, his sheets bunching up and the springs on his mattress squeaked. "I miss you," you added sadly, thinking about the one night you got to sleep in his bed. How comfortable you felt. How at ease it made you feel, and he wasn't even in the bed with you. Just being around him was all it took.

"Me, too. We're so close, baby. Just a few more days. A week, tops."

His words instilled a newfound vigor in you. The fear and anxiety you felt about the trial temporarily disappeared and instead, you felt powerful. In charge. Confident. And eager to take your life back.

Monday

"Have you heard from any of the other women?" you asked Madeline hopefully, and she gave you a quick shake of her head.

"Not yet. I'm sorry," she replied, knowing you were all crossing your fingers that some of the women Joel talked to in Philadelphia would change their minds and come forward, but as hard as he tried to convince them, they were all too scared to say something, putting you back at square one. He had high hopes for one girl in particular, Nina, but so far she had refused to answer his or Madeline's calls and time was running out. "Don't worry, hun. We still have all the evidence on our side. We have the medical records, I can prove years of abuse with that and testimony from the people you put us in contact with. I am confident we will win, regardless of the other victims," she told you, looking you dead in the eye, and you believed her.

"Okay," you replied, taking a deep breath and nodding your head. "And again, I'm sorry I couldn't get anywhere with my mom. Do you think we'll still do okay without her?"

Madeline sat back in her chair and slid her glasses off, holding them gently in her hands while giving you a look across her desk that made your stomach twist.

She had bad news.

"We would do just fine without her, but I found out this morning that she was subpoenaed by the defense."

You stared at her, not quite understanding what you were hearing.

"What does that mean?" you finally asked, and although you had an idea, you needed her to say it.

"She agreed to speak on Patrick's behalf."

Tears sprung up in your eyes but you quickly wiped them away, refusing to allow your mother to cause you any more pain. Before you could say anything, Madeline spoke up again.

"Don't let it upset you. They might think they're making a power move, but I'll destroy her on the stand, mark my words. It will only help our case and paint the picture of a lifetime of abuse," she told you, putting her glasses back on before looking back down at the file in front of her. You hadn't ever considered your relationship with your mother as abusive before. You just assumed most girls had problems with their mothers growing up. But if she was willing to help your husband over her own daughter, essentially supporting everything Patrick has done to you, then 'abusive' was really the only word you could use at that point to describe your relationship.

"Okay, what else," you asked hurriedly, looking down at your hands folded on your lap.

"Well since we are already on the shitty news portion of the day, I do have one more thing I need to mention, and before I tell you, just know you can do absolutely whatever you want, okay? Do not feel pressured to go through with it-"

"Just say it," you told her, and she took a brief pause before continuing.

"Patrick asked to speak to you before the trial. He's holding the divorce papers as a hostage. Says he will sign them if you speak to him."

Your eyes shot up to meet hers in shock.

That was not something you were expecting to hear.

"W-why would he want to talk to me?" you stammered, and you could feel your heart beginning to pound louder in your chest, the fear and anxiety quickly taking hold yet again, just like it always did when it came to Patrick.

"My guess? He probably wants to convince you to drop the charges in exchange for a divorce. And that is something we are not going to do, understand me?" Madeline said, narrowing her eyes at you. "If my hunch is correct, he's scared. He knows he's going to lose and he is desperate. We do not need him to play nice here. I can get a judge to grant an annulment if he won't sign, it will just prolong everything a little more, but the end result will be the same."

The idea of your divorce taking even longer made your blood boil. You wanted to be with Joel. You wanted this to be over. It was only supposed to be a few more days... a week, tops.

Madeline could tell you were spiraling because she put her pen down and stood up from her chair.

"You don't have to talk to him. You are under no obligation to hear him out. We can just go through with everything the way we planned-"

"I'll talk to him," you said quietly.

"I have to give you my honest opinion here. I don't think it's a good idea."

"I'm not going to drop the charges, but... I don't know. Maybe I can convince him this is over. And if not, I'll just get up and leave," you told her firmly, and she examined you carefully before sighing.

"Alright. I'll contact his attorney and set something up in the morning. If you change your mind, you let me know. Night or day, five minutes before you walk into that room, it doesn't matter, okay? You don't have to do this."

"I know," you said, "I want to."

Madeline spent the rest of the day briefing you on what to expect for the trial. After opening statements, Madeline would argue your case with the evidence she collected and the witnesses she subpoenaed, then Patrick's lawyer would have the opportunity to cross examine and afterwards, it would be their turn to defend Patrick with their own witnesses before closing statements and deliberation. Madeline guessed the whole thing would take two or three days at the most, and that gave you some relief. No matter what happened, this would be over by the end of the week.

"I'll call you to the stand last," Madeline said. "It's best if your testimony is freshest for the jury, especially right before the defense states their case."

"Okay. And what do I do when I'm up there? Should I look at the jury or the judge, or just you?"

"Look wherever you feel comfortable, but don't offer any extra information outside of the question being asked. We'll rehearse the questions I'm going to ask before you leave today, and when it comes time for the defense to cross examine, give as little information as possible. Yes or no answers. And they'll try to get you upset - don't let them. That's important, okay?"

"Yes," you said with a nod. "I understand."

After you ran through the questions, Madeline sent you back to your hotel room with the list for you to review and practice on your own, but your head was pounding by the end of the day. Your eyes burned and your mind was racing and all you wanted to do was sleep, but your body wouldn't let you. You ended up pacing around your room and trying not to let your anxiety about seeing Patrick in the morning torment you. You had just found a mindless cooking competition show to put on to help distract you when your phone pinged next to you on the nightstand.

Joel: All ready for tomorrow?

You: I think so, but I'm nervous. Can't sleep.

Pausing for a moment, you added another text.

You: I'm meeting with Patrick in the morning before it starts.

It took less than two minutes for your phone to ring.

"What d'you mean? Why're you meetin' with him?" Joel's voice asked aggressively the moment you answered the call.

"He's holding out signing the papers until he speaks to me," you explained. "He says he'll sign them if I talk to him. I figured there's no harm, he can't hurt me-"

"No harm?!" Joel exclaimed, and you quickly stopped talking. "All he does is harm! The fuck are you thinkin'?" he asked, sounding less angry and more upset now.

"Madeline said it'll take longer to get a divorce if he refuses to sign. I just want this over with, Joel!" you said, your voice beginning to break. "I don't want to wait a few more weeks or months. I'm fucking done! And if listening to whatever he has to say for twenty minutes gets him to sign the goddamn papers, then I'll do it! Because I can't do this anymore!" you sobbed into the phone, the tears you fought to hold back all day finally coming to the surface.

"Okay, okay, calm down," he said soothingly, and you took a few shaky breaths in. He waited until your breathing steadied before speaking again. "What time are you supposed to see him?"

"8:30," you said, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand.

"Alright, I'll be there," he said. "Just in case. I wanna be there."

"You can't come in the room with me, Joel."

"You can't go in alone," he argued.

"Madeline said the conference room they booked has a door with a window. You can both watch from the hall."

He grumbled to himself on the other end and you waited, chewing on your lower lip nervously, for him to say something.

"One wrong move and I'm puttin' his head through the fuckin' wall," he muttered.

"That wouldn't exactly help your lawsuit," you reminded him.

"You let me worry 'bout that," he said, and you yawned. He must have heard you because his voice softened. "You gotta get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."

"I know," you replied, and although you felt like you wouldn't get much restful sleep, your eyelids were still getting heavy.

"I'll be there bright and early, alright? And I'm stayin' til it's over."

"What about Sarah?" you asked sleepily.

"She's stayin' at a friend's house. Couldn't be more excited about it. Practically kickin' me out," he said with a chuckle.

You laughed as you stared blankly at the TV, watching some poor girl cry when her crème brûlée burnt. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Joel bit his tongue on the other end of the call, holding back the words he really wanted to say but knew it wasn't the right time. Instead, he said "good night, baby. See you in the mornin'."

Tuesday

As expected, you tossed and turned all night. It was clear as day when you caught your reflection in the mirror and winced at what you saw. The bags under your bloodshot eyes wouldn't be tamed by the concealer Maria bought you so long ago, but you tried your best, anyway. After picking out the least ugly shirt and skirt combination, you made sure your hair looked decent before taking a deep breath and stepping out the door of your hotel room.

The first step towards your freedom.

You were proud of yourself. You had actually managed to not let the nerves get to you until you entered the courthouse and saw Madeline tapping away on her phone, wearing a dark blue pantsuit and hair pulled back in a simple bun, with a black leather suitcase hung over her shoulder. She looked up when she heard you approach, giving your outfit a nod of approval before enveloping you in a quick hug.

"You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," you said, giving her a nervous smile. Your hands were beginning to shake as she walked you down a secluded hallway towards the conference room she had booked for your conversation with Patrick. You could feel your chest tighten with every step you took, but when you turned the corner and saw Joel leaning up against the wall in a brown suit with another man you didn't recognize but assumed was Patrick's lawyer, you instantly felt relief. When his eyes locked with yours and he gave you a small smile, you felt even calmer.

You could do this.

"Last chance. Are you sure you want to do this?" Madeline said next to you. Glancing through the window in the door, you saw Patrick sitting at the table in a rumpled jumpsuit, his handcuffed arms resting on the table as he stared down as his fingernails. You nodded and looked at Patrick's lawyer.

"Does he have the divorce papers, or do you?"

The lawyer gave you a polite smile before replying "I do, miss."

You nodded before taking a deep breath, and glancing at Joel one more time to remind yourself why you were doing this, you twisted the doorknob and stepped into the room.

Patrick lifted his head up when you walked in and gave you half a smile, but you just shut the door behind you and walked to the other end of the table, as far away from him as you possibly could get, and sat down.

He stared down the table at you, giving you his most charming persona, the side he always brought out when he knew he had gone too far and wanted to make amends. You folded your hands calmly on the table and tilted your head to the side, waiting for him to speak. Minutes ticked by, inching closer and closer to your trial time as you waited, refusing to be the one who bent first.

"New clothes?" he finally asked, and you quirked an eyebrow.

"Yeah, looks like you got some new clothes, too."

You patted yourself on the back for the jab, but you didn't show a hint of the smugness you were feeling when you saw a quick scowl flit across his face.

"Alright," he said, leaning back in his hair and lifting his hands up in mock defeat. "You win."

"What did I win?" you said with a frown.

"This," he said, motioning between the two of you. "You want outta this so badly, fine. I'll sign the papers. I'll leave you alone."

"Great," you said, trying to keep the tremble from your voice.

"You gotta drop these charges, though, baby. This shit could get me killed, you know that?"

"Don't call me baby."

He sat forward suddenly, making you flinch. "What the hell do you want me to call you, then?"

You took a steadying breath and glanced at the door, catching Joel's eye before looking back at Patrick.

"I'm not dropping the charges."

He shrugged and dropped his hands loudly on the table. "Then I ain't signing the papers."

You looked at Joel again. His lips were pressed in a thin line as he watched the two of you and you wondered if he could hear anything through the door.

"What about the charges against Joel? Would you let it go and sign if I dropped the charges?" you asked quietly, and that caught Patrick's interest. He smirked and folded his hands on the table.

"Oh, no. Can't do that. I got your boyfriend right where I want him. Got a rockstar witness that'll help me take him for all he's got. Hope that kid of his is smart, she's gonna need to get a scholarship for college. Daddy ain't gonna have two dimes to rub together when I'm done with him."

Your jaw clenched and your nostrils flared as you stared at Patrick across the table, doing your best to rein in your anger and not say something stupid.

"You don't have shit against him," you spat, and true to form, he couldn't help himself. He just had to show his hand.

"Bullshit. Got that girl he was on a date with that night at the bar willing to testify he had it out for me, that he was obsessed with you and would do anything to get rid of me," he sneered, looking quite pleased with himself.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek. You knew Nikki was pissed, but this was going too far.

"Then it doesn't sound like we have anything else to talk about," you said, standing up. You made your way to the door, passing by his chair, when he spoke once again.

"You're not gonna win, you know. They don't put cops in jail. Juries feel too guilty, knowing how dangerous it is."

You looked down at him, finally seeing him for who he really was: a pathetic, desperate, sad excuse for a man. No matter how long it took for Madeline to finalize your divorce, you would do it the right way. You've suffered for years, a few more months wouldn't kill you.

And then you would be free.

"Hope you're willing to bet your life on that," you said before turning on your heel and swinging open the door.

Joel was at your side in an instant, following you and Madeline down the corridor towards the courtroom.

"Do I even want to ask?" Madeline said over her shoulder.

"You were right. He wanted me to drop the charges in exchange for signing the papers," you told her, then glanced up at Joel by your side. "I said no. We're doing this the right way."

"Good," they both said at the same time. Your hand itched to reach out and hold his, but you knew you couldn't, so you settled for gently brushing your knuckles against the back of his hand and you saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

When you entered the courtroom, which was much smaller than you expected, your eyes immediately drifted around to the scattered few people seated in the spectator chairs. You had completely forgotten about your mother, and seeing her sitting there, on the other side of the room as your cousin, with her hair pulled back tightly and wearing a navy blue dress you hadn't seen before, sent you into shock. Fortunately, she stared straight ahead, avoiding your penetrating gaze, so you looked away and made eye contact with your cousin, who gave you a tight smile and a thumbs up.

Then you heard Joel suck in air next to you and you glanced up at him, following his gaze to Michelle, who was seated a few rows behind the plaintiff's table.

"What's she doing here?" you tried to mutter under your breath.

"Don't know," he replied quietly, turning his focus away from her.

Madeline swung open the doors for you to step through and take a seat behind the desk, where she joined you and began to open up her briefcase and spread out all her files on the table. Joel slid into the row of chairs right behind you, and if you took a deep breath, you could smell him. Gone was the putrid cologne, the only thing he ever had in common with Patrick besides his profession. All that you could smell was him. His natural, masculine scent mixed with a subtle hint of his deodorant and some hair product. A smell you had grown to love and crave.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, you noticed you had less than five minutes before the trial began. More people began to stream in. Witnesses on both sides, some you recognized and some you didn't. A few cops that you knew were close with Patrick on the force sat together in full regalia, no doubt trying to win favor with the jury with their choice in clothes, just like you.

You had a chance to look at Joel just one more time, one fleeting smile and wink from him before the doors swung open. Patrick and his lawyer marched up to their table, both of them avoiding looking in your direction as they got settled in just in time for the bailiff to announce for the room to rise, and moments later the judge and jury walked in.

You were holding up better than you expected. All of these months of preparation finally paid off. You were more confident after each witness Madeline brought up to the stand. She started with a couple old co-workers of yours, who didn't have much to say other than they had asked you a few times about your bruises and you had made up excuses, but they always suspected something else was going on. Patrick's lawyer stood up and objected when they hinted at your husband being the cause, and the judge agreed. Madeline backed off her line of questioning and once she was satisfied, announced no further questions before sitting down. Patrick's lawyer - Beckett Kennedy, you learned - chose not to question them further.

Next was your cousin, Mary, who testified she knew Patrick was hurting you, but as Beckett would clarify for the jury later under cross examination, had no proof other than your word. She explained how you continually went to her for help, that she helped you get on birth control without Patrick's knowledge, and how you confided in her the night before you fled to Texas.

The next witness in your defense was Carol, the doctor Joel had brought you to after Patrick's most recent assault.

That was when things got rocky.

There were blown up images of your injuries being projected in front of the entire room, including some that blurred out your privates, but you still found to be absolutely humiliating. You fidgeted in your seat, trying not to show too much emotion as Carol explained in great detail all of the injuries you had sustained not only that day, but historically as well. Madeline called into evidence your old medical reports from the hospitals back in Philadelphia, and Carol gave her expert opinion on each one, explaining in layman's terms what each and every note meant so that the jury could understand.

Every single cut, bruise, laceration, and broken bone was discussed as you stared down at your hands in your lap, your cheeks burning. You heard Joel shift behind you in his seat and you tried to take a deep breath, tried to catch his scent to calm you, but you were too far away or maybe it wasn't strong enough and the urge to turn around and bury your face in his neck for comfort was overwhelming.

Finally, Madeline finished up with Carol, thanking her for her time before sitting down next to you. She gave you a wink, trying to reassure you everything was going smoothly, and you gave her a small smile in return.

Beckett then got up to cross examine Carol. He tried to poke holes in her medical expertise, tried to question her knowledge about sexual assault and if she could truly be considered an expert in that particular field of study when she was just a general practitioner but Carol sat tall and told the court she was an OBGYN for ten years and that she very much had a vast amount of knowledge in the area of female anatomy.

After Beckett insultingly tried to suggest pap smears and the occasional birth could hardly make Carol an expert in trauma, she was excused.

"We have time for one more witness, Maddy," Judge Dean, an older man with bright blue eyes and absolutely no hair on his head, announced before she stood up and took a deep breath.

"The prosecution calls Sheriff Joel Miller to the stand."

After Joel raised his right hand and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, he sat down and adjusted his blazer, then glanced at Madeline expectantly. She gave him a warm smile and started slow. She thanked him for traveling all the way to Austin to give his testimony, asked him to verify how long he had been town sheriff, and asked him to give an approximate idea of how many incidents he had encountered in his tenure for domestic or sexual abuse.

"So it sounds like you're no stranger to this type of crime."

"Unfortunately, no," he replied.

"The plaintiff didn't call the police when she was assaulted, is that correct?" she asked.

"That's correct."

"Can you explain how you came to find out she was hurt?"

Joel took a deep breath and glanced quickly at you before looking back at Madeline. "She works as a waitress at the diner in town. See her almost every day for lunch. One day she called in sick, I had a hunch somethin' was wrong and her apartment's on the way back to work, so I stopped to do a wellness check on her."

"What caused you to have a hunch, sheriff?"

"The day before, I saw the plaintiff and defendant at a coffee shop. I witnessed the defendant put his hands on the plaintiff in an aggressive manner and it raised some red flags," he explained calmly.

"And when you went to her apartment to do a wellness check, what did you see?" Madeline asked, looking up from her legal pad with her glasses perched on the tip of her nose. You dropped your gaze to your lap. You could remember that day vividly. The shame and embarrassment and the pain all came rushing back, and you tried to blink the tears away as you focused on Joel's answer.

"It was clear the plaintiff had been attacked," he began, and only because you knew him so well, you could hear the slight strain in his voice. "She had a gash on her forehead, a split lip, a bruise on her cheek and scratches all down her neck."

Madeline hummed as she picked up the remote for the projector and flipped through the images that Carol had gone over. She stopped on a picture of your face with wounds that matched Joel's description and you noticed out of the corner of your eye a few jurors shake their heads sadly.

"Are these images the injuries you're describing, sheriff?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"After you performed the wellness check, what happened?" Madeline asked, setting down the remote but leaving the picture of your beat up face on the monitor. You knew she was doing it to garner sympathy and help paint the picture Joel was describing, but it made your stomach turn.

"I encouraged the plaintiff to seek medical treatment and press charges."

"And that is when the plaintiff visited Dr. Carol Parker, correct?"

"That's correct."

"I noticed at the same time, the defendant was in holding, is that true?" Madeline asked, and Joel nodded.

"Yes."

"Why was he arrested, sheriff?"

"He was drunk and disorderly in public the night before, so I took him in to sleep it off."

"Were those the only charges against him?" she asked.

"No. He also punched me when I was attempting to make the arrest, so he was also charged with assaulting a police officer."

"And when the plaintiff came to the station to give her statement, that was when the additional charges were filed, correct?" Madeline asked, picking up the remote to switch to a slide of the long list of charges against Patrick.

"Correct."

"I also see here a restraining order was filed to protect the plaintiff."

"Correct."

"And did the defendant obey the restraining order?"

"No, he did not," Joel said, straightening up in his seat. "He showed up at the plaintiff's place of employment and tried to intimidate her. Threatened her." You closed your eyes for a moment, remembering that night when Tommy and Thor stood up for you. How scared you were, how hopeless you felt and then Joel arrived, and you felt like you could breathe again.

"And the police were called then?"

"Yes. Maria Miller, one of the owners of the diner, called down to the station and spoke with my deputy, who then called me on his way down to the diner and I met up with him there."

"To arrest the defendant for violating the restraining order?"

"Yes, that's right."

"And did you?" Madeline asked, leaning against the desk and crossing her ankles in front of her.

"Not that evening, no. He couldn't be found," Joel said. You stiffened in your seat, bracing for what was coming next.

"Can you tell me what happened after you arrived at the diner?"

Joel swallowed and glanced briefly in your direction again before answering. "I took the plaintiff back to her apartment so she could get some things and stay elsewhere for the night. We were worried the defendant would try to harm her and thought it best she stay away from her residence until he was apprehended," he said, pausing for a moment. "But when we got there, it was clear the defendant had already broken in-"

"Objection," Beckett announced suddenly.

"Sustained."

"Allow me to rephrase," Madeline said, pushing off her desk. "What did you witness when you arrived back at the plaintiff's apartment?"

"It appeared the place had been broken into," Joel began. "Her belongings were destroyed. There were holes in the drywall, dish-ware broken, graffiti on the walls, and what smelled like urine in her bed."

Madeline used her remote to flip to images of your apartment from that night, and when the one of your bathroom came onto the screen, you heard a low murmur from the people behind you.

"According to my notes, you sent out a pair of officers to process the scene the next morning, along with a forensic analyst, is that correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I would like to draw your attention to exhibit 6C, the forensics report," Madeline said, clicking the remote to another slide where a document appeared with the label Exhibit 6C at the bottom. "What can you tell me about this report, sheriff?"

"Objection. The witness can hardly be considered a forensics expert, your honor," Beckett said, standing up.

"I believe he's proven he has many years of experience and can answer basic questions," Madeline argued. "I will wait until tomorrow to question the forensics analyst in more detail, but I believe the sheriff has the ability to answer one simple question today."

The judge looked back and forth between Madeline and Beckett as he considered his answer.

"Be careful, counselor," he warned Madeline, then turned to Joel. "Go ahead."

"The DNA taken from the mattress matched the sample we took from the defendant at the station, so we brought additional charges against him for breaking and entering once he was arrested."

"And when did you finally arrest him, sheriff?"

"The following day."

"Can you please describe for the court how and where you found the defendant?" Madeline asked, leaning against the desk again. You nervously twisted your fingers in your lap as you listened.

"We found him in a crack house with some locals and a couple prostitutes."

"Did he resist arrest?"

"No, this time he was too high and passed out-"

"Objection!" Beckett yelled. "Speculation, your honor."

"Sustained," the judge said, frowning at Joel, but Joel just kept his gaze trained on Madeline.

"No further questions, your honor," Madeline said, turning on her heel to sit back down next to you.

"Your witness," the judge said with a nod in Beckett's direction, and a smug smile spread across his face before he stood up. He paced in front of the bench for a few moments, trying to build up the anticipation, and it was working. Your heart was thundering in your chest as you watched him walk slowly back and forth, but Joel appeared to be perfectly calm as he waited for his first question.

When he stopped pacing and you saw the look on Beckett's face, you knew exactly what was coming. It was the moment he had been waiting for. The bombshell. Their only chance at swaying the jury in their favor thus far, and he was ready to strike.

"Sheriff, have you ever had sex with the plaintiff?"

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[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

My Heart is Yours

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Words: 6.3k

Warnings: extreme fluff, maybe a tiny bit of angst? tension? this is just very fluffy because he needs it

Synopsis: It's Simon's birthday and somethings changed between you two...

Link to The Roommate Series Masterlist

You are currently reading part 2 of “The Roommate Series”

You were up earlier than normal two days in a row but this time you had woken up on your own. Usually on the weekends you slept in, enjoying the fact that you didn't have to go to class or do work, dozing in and out of sleep as you listened to your roommate go through his morning before you joined him. However, this weekend was different than most and it was hard for you to want to stay in bed.

For one, Simon was home. You have gone through many weekends without him, so when he was here it was hard for you to justify staying in bed when you wanted to spend time with him. You learned very quickly that you could never take the time spent with him for granted, not when he might be called back into work randomly and then you’d be left alone again. 

Truthfully it was a double edge sword. The more time you spent with him the harder it was to watch him leave but that was the price to pay when you let yourself get attached to a man who disappeared for months.

Another reason was because it was Simon’s birthday.

You were honestly more excited about it than he was. To him, his birthday was just another day but to you it was a day to make things right, to make things better from the vague stories he gave you about the way he grew up.

It was also a chance to have fun with him and to just relax. You didn’t pass up on those opportunities.

You had plans for dinner before you both got drunk off whiskey and any other alcohol you had in your fridge to watch movies. You also still had to make him a cake but more importantly you still had to wrap the gift you had gotten him.

The door to your room was closed but you still glanced at it as if Simon would appear out of thin air before you pulled his gift out from underneath your bed. 

In your hand was a travel sized joke book, one that had the really bad puns and dad jokes in it but it was the only thing that you could think of to get him that he would actually use. Even if you knew a lot about your roommate, he was difficult to shop for because he had everything he already needed and never thought about what he wanted.

“Just tell me something to get you!” You begged as you both walked through the aisles of the grocery store yesterday.

“I don’t want anything.” He shrugged and you huffed. 

“If you don’t tell me I’m going to get you something you won’t like.”

“I’m sure I’ll live.”

Simon would never tell you but it really didn't matter what you got him for his birthday. He would like whatever you got him because if it was something from you he’d cherish it until he died.

You opened the front of the book to make sure the birthday card you got him was still in there before you heard Simon walk past your room. You somehow had woken up before him and you listened to him shut the door to the bathroom before you let out a short breath.

You put the book back underneath your bed and got dressed. You tried to curb your excitement and instead worked through your head to come up with a plan to get him out of the apartment.

Even though he knew what you had planned you still wanted to act as if it was a surprise.

You left your room once you were dressed and made your way to the bathroom, noting that the door was cracked open for you. It was part of the routine you both had set up when he was home and happened to be in the bathroom when you had to get ready for class.

“Happy birthday!” You swung the door open and stood in the doorway with a grin.

Simon was brushing his teeth but gave you a grunt that sounded like a ‘thank you’. He seemed to have just woken up; his blond hair was tousled from sleep and he stared at you with bleary eyes. He was also still in his pajamas which consisted of just sweatpants since the man was practically a space heater and couldn’t wear a shirt to sleep. 

His entire upper body was covered in scars that you were sure had stories to them. It was uncommon for you to see them but sometimes you got a glimpse which struck something deep within your chest. However, right now you were just happy that he truly didn’t have any new scars. 

There was something strangely domestic about the sight of him brushing his teeth while you stood watching him. It felt like something that was meant to be, something that was natural to the apartment and to you both. It warmed your chest, softening the grin as it settled into you again that he was truly back home.

“I see you slept well.” You said and he didn’t have the heart to disagree. “Feel any older?”

“Pass.” He grumbled after he spit into the sink and washed out the fluoride with water.

You giggled and watched him begin to wash his face, unbothered by your presence. You were still running through ideas in your head about how to get rid of him for a few hours before you decided to play the safe route.

“What’re your plans today?” You wondered, trying to not sound suspicious.

“Get drunk and watch movies.” He reminded you and you hummed in response.

“You mean you don’t have anything else planned?”

He turned the water off and patted his face dry with a towel, turning to you with a suspicious look in his eyes when he was finished. It only worsened when you gave him a smile and he let out a long sigh from his chest. 

“You want me out of the flat.” He stated and you decided that it was time to be truthful.

“Just for a few hours.” You gave him a sheepish smile when he sent you an annoyed look. “It’d do you good to go out.”

“I went out yesterday.”

A soft huff left your mouth as you watched him hang the towel back up and he raised his eyebrows expectantly. You knew that it would’ve been hard to get him out the apartment, he was a homebody who practically confined himself to four walls when he was home. It never bothered you but right now you wished he at least had the motivation to go outside.

“You could go visit your friends?” You suggested even though in your entire time living with him you’d never seen or heard about him having any.

“No.” He didn’t hesitate and you sent him a look.

“At least think about it, geez.”

Simon smiled, it was small but it brightened your mood immensely, as he ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame it. It had gotten longer since he was gone, the longest you had seen it, and he pulled on a few of the strands to test the length. He didn’t look bad with it that long in your opinion but you assumed by the way he was staring at it through the mirror with intense concentration that he wanted it to be a shorter length. 

“I can pay for your haircut.”

“I prefer cutting my own hair.”

You groaned from his difficultness, not annoyed but you had hoped this would go easier. You weren’t sure if he was doing it on purpose to toy with you or if he genuinely didn’t want to leave the apartment. In hindsight, you couldn’t really blame him since he had gotten back yesterday and most likely just wanted to sit around and enjoy not having to be at his job.

Simon made his way over to you and leaned against the doorframe, his tired eyes staring down at you with confusion as he crossed his arms. Up this close, it was really hard to deny just how big he was and it took everything in you to not stare super long at him.

He seemed to have gained more muscle since you had last seen him and yet he hadn’t thinned down much either. Whatever he did for his job made him physically fit and you wondered if that was the reason why he always ate so much.

Not that you were complaining.

His eyes softened as you made eye contact and they bounced around your face as he leaned forward ever so slightly, making it so there was only a few inches between the two of you.

You were prepared for him to stare at you for a long time before he spoke.

“Why do you want to surprise me if I know what you’re doing?” He wondered and continued to stare at you as if he could read your mind.

“You don’t know everything.” You teased and his eyebrows knitted together. “Like the gift I got you.”

Simon’s eyes widened slightly and he stood up, causing you to bite back a few giggles. He tried to hide his excitement but you could see it in the way his eyes had brightened and his usual serious face had gotten happier just at the mention of a gift. 

It was cute, you couldn’t help but look at him with a warm chest as it was almost like looking at a kid who was just told they’d get ice cream.

“You got me something?” He sounded surprised it made you smile more.

“Mhm.” You nodded and he seemingly held his breath in anticipation. “But you’re not allowed to have it until after we have cake.”

You watched him deflate with slight disappointment before his eyes shot over to your room. You immediately knew what he was thinking about and you sent him a warning look that you hoped would deter him from even daring to search through your room for his gift.

Even if the dinner and the cake wasn’t a surprise, you wanted to keep his present a secret because you were honestly a little worried it wasn’t good enough and you still wanted to have the time to be able to potentially get something different for him.

“Okay, let’s compromise.” You said, trying to get him to forget about the gift, and continued when he looked back at you. “After lunch you leave while I make the cake and then you can come back once I start making dinner.”

Simon thought it over for a moment before he nodded. 

“I’ll help you make dinner.” He added but you shook your head.

“You’re not supposed to help, it’s your birthday.”

“It’s my birthday so I get to do what I want.”

You gasped and stared at him with shock, watching as a triumphant smile stretched across his face. Of course he would figure out a way to use your own arbitrary rules against you for his benefit. You were honestly surprised he hadn’t thought to do it earlier but maybe he was waiting for the right opportunity to catch you off guard.

He was smart, too smart to fall for you silly rules and play along with you.

You pursed your lips together as he looked down at you. You pretended to be offended, giving him a fake glare that couldn’t even be mistaken for anger as you fought back a smile.

“Oh, you think you’re so clever.” You poked him on the chest and watched him tense up slightly before he leaned more into your space.

“I do.”

You scoffed, shaking your head slightly as you placed your hands on your hips. You narrowed your eyes at him, watching as amusement twinkled in his eyes. You focused hard on them, knowing that if you didn’t you would be too enticed by the fact that you could smell the fresh mint on his breath that made you dare to think about what it would be like to press a kiss to his lips in this moment. How you could easily take his face into your hands and run your fingers across the blond stubble on his cheeks, tracing every scar that peppered his otherwise clear skin. 

Instead you looked into his dark brown eyes, finding that you were practically swallowed up in the color of bitter coffee and earth. A void of hidden emotions and an exhaustion that seemed to always plague him yet there was comfort within them expanse of darkness. There was warmth that blanketed you as you stared into his eyes, a sense of safety and stability that you couldn’t find anywhere else, only within the confines of the man who stood in front of you.

It was almost too much, too intense to be looking into his eyes like this. Normally you couldn’t do it for longer than a few seconds but doing so now made you feel almost dizzy, like he was taking the air from your lungs for himself.

And yet couldn’t get enough of him. He could be melded inside of you, his entire soul could be mixed with yours and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“Fine.” You cleared your throat when you noticed that your voice was shaking slightly. “You can help but just remind yourself that it’s your birthday.”

“Fine.” He playfully rolled his eyes before he gently pushed you back. “Go. I need to take a shower.”

“You brush your teeth before a shower? Weirdo.”

Simon sent you a look, still with the hint of playfulness, before he shut the door and it was as if you could breathe again. You stared at the door, taking in the moment you just had with him before the shower turning on shook you out of your thoughts.

You glanced at the door one more time before you moved towards the kitchen to make some breakfast.

~

Shooting whiskey has never been easy for you. The brown liquid burned your throat and settled in your chest long enough to give you an unpleasant shiver throughout your entire body. It was hard to keep back the water in your eyes and the cough as you downed a shot, chasing that funny feeling that made the world spin and everything a lot less stressful.

You had your own drink but you couldn’t deny Simon when he offered the last three shots of whiskey to you, finding that he could be persuasive when he wanted to be.

Both of you sat on the couch in front of the tv, some kind of movie that Simon hadn’t seen was playing in the background but it had been quickly abandoned after the last few shots. Instead of watching, both of you were preoccupied with each other, talking about everything that you could. 

Well, you were doing most of the talking in between shots and sips of a mixed drink while Simon listened. He sipped on his second glass of whiskey but would occasionally join you for a shot when he felt like he was behind you with how drunk you already were.

He wasn’t sure if it was because he was taking it slow and you weren’t or because he was a heavy drinker, but he definitely knew you were having more fun during his birthday than he was. He was too focused on you to really care anyway. You took up the room, demanding his attention and he happily gave it to you without hesitation or protest.

You took another shot, your vision of the world already spinning but you were having too much fun to really notice, and shivered once more. The effects of the alcohol weren't enough to take the bitter taste away just yet.

A smile pulled at the corner of Simon’s lips and he scoffed, getting your attention as you sent him a look through watery eyes.

“Lightweight.” He teased as he took another sip, completely unbothered.

“Shut up, you’re not even drunk.” You slurred and set the shot glass down on the coffee table. “You’re like a mountain.”

“I’m drunk.”

You gave him a suspicious look, one that was over exaggerated due to how drunk you were but it made him smile more nonetheless. 

That should’ve been enough for you to know that he was drunk, since he didn’t give out big cheesy smiles like you did. His cheeks were dusted pink and his tired eyes hungry just a little bit heavier, a haze over them as he stared at you with a dopey look as if he couldn’t quite understand what you were saying but he hung onto every word. He looked content, there wasn’t an ounce of stress left even in his usual tense shoulders as his body subconsciously leaned towards yours, almost as if he was hovering over you.

You were sure you looked just as drunk as he did, if not more, and yet he looked at you with bright eyes that bounced around your face often.

“You are!” You laughed and he attempted to hide the smile behind his hand. “Can’t hold your liquor that good.”

“Better than you.” He took another sip and you playfully cussed him out.

You ran a hand over your face and glanced around the room, noting that it had gotten dark outside. Your eyebrows knitted together and you wondered how long it had been since you both sat down after dinner to watch movies, thinking that only an hour or two had passed until you checked the time on your phone.

“Shit! We haven’t done cake yet.” You exclaimed when you saw that it was close to midnight.

“So?” Simon raised an eyebrow as you shot up from your spot on the couch.

“You have to have cake on your birthday.”

You tried your best to not stumble into the kitchen, failing at doing so but thankfully you didn’t fall flat on your face. You were extra careful when getting the cake out of the fridge despite the fact that you were in a rush, making sure that when you placed it on the counter to put the candles on, nothing was in the way. 

It was a small cake since you knew that Simon probably would only eat a few slices from it over the week before he was over the sweetness. On top of the icing, almost perfectly written since you were adamant to make it look pretty even though you knew he wouldn’t care, were the words “Happy Birthday Simon”. You placed a few candles around the words, making sure they wouldn’t touch the letters before you carried it into the living room.

You were focused on keeping the cake balanced, not noticing the way Simon’s eyes had softened greatly when you walked into the room and set it in front of him.

“I need your lighter.” You opened your palm urgently.

“You’re gonna burn yourself.” Simon protested with a serious look on his face but you waved him off.

“I won’t! Hurry before it turns midnight.”

Simon hesitantly dug his lighter out of his pocket and handed it to you, watching you intently as you lit the candles, making sure that if you burned yourself he would quickly get you to a sink. However you handed him back the lighter without harming yourself and positioned the cake in front of him properly.

You sat down beside him, your knees touching as you looked between him and the cake. A giddy feeling sprung up in your stomach and you wiggled in your spot excitedly watching Simon’s reaction carefully with clasped hands.

He stared down at the cake with soft eyes, the light from the small flames reflecting in them. They weren’t sad, but you noticed that there was a hint of something more melancholic hidden within his eyes that wasn’t there before until he read the writing. He pulled his hands into his lap almost as if he wasn’t sure what he should do before he hesitantly glanced your way.

You gave him a warm smile, one that signified that whatever he was thinking or feeling was okay, hoping that you didn’t go too far.

“Happy birthday, Simon.” You said softly and scooted close enough that now your thighs were touching.

Simon didn’t say anything but he continued to stare at you, eyes a range of emotion as they bounced around your face, stopping for a moment to look at your lips, until you gestured towards the cake.

“Make a wish.”

He rolled his eyes, a soft huff of amusement leaving his nose before he turned towards the cake and blew out the candles. A small smile pulled at his lips when you cheered and he watched as you stood up from the couch a lot more gracefully this time.

“Want a piece or do I have to eat this all on my own?” You teased and he nodded.

“Not a big one.”

You got plates and quickly cut a small piece out for him and for you. You waited for him to take a bite of it first, almost holding your breath as if this was the very moment that would break your entire ego about your baking skills.

Simon took a small bite of the cake and his eyes shut immediately.

“Fucking hell…” He muttered and your stomach sunk.

“What? Is it bad?” You asked him urgently as you gripped your plate so tight your fingers went sore.

“It’s good, really fucking good what did you put in this?”

Your eyes widened slightly and you felt your chest warm as you watched him eat the piece on his plate faster. You were sure if it was the alcohol making him like the sweetness but as soon as he finished the piece he had he went for another one. 

You smiled to yourself, taking a bit out of the cake on your plate. You hummed at the amazing flavors and felt proud of yourself as you eyed Simon.

“My undying desire to celebrate your birthday.”

“Piss off.”

You laughed, leaning into him enough to where you could hear him chuckle under his breath. The giddy feeling inside of you grew and you didn’t dare ignore it as you found yourself enjoying the closeness that you so rarely got with Simon, pushing yourself into his arm just a little more as you finished your piece of the cake.

Your chest warmed more when he leaned against you as if he liked the contact as well and your head fell to his shoulder, a content sigh leaving your chest as you reveled in his warmth. You noticed that he seemed to have gotten hot due to the alcohol and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, causing your eyes to jump down to the tattoo on his arm.

It was rare that you saw it since he often wore long sleeves and when he didn’t you never got a good look at it. You assumed that he didn’t want you to see it since every time you asked or he noticed you were staring at it, he would cover it up. Now, with the way you were sitting against him, he couldn’t see that you were staring at the ink unless he turned to look at you.

His tattoo was a lot more intricate than you had first thought, especially now as your eyes traced over the details in the ink designs. You knew he had a thing for skulls, since the mask he wore around you was the lower jaw of one, so it didn’t surprise you when you saw the skulls littered within the other designs. What did come as a surprise to you was that most of the tattoo was war imagery.

Guns, dog tags, a tank, and a literal military soldier etched into his skin made it less a coincidence and more a deliberate design. It made your eyebrows knit together and you fought the urge to grab his arm to look closer.

Was he military? The more you thought about it, the more it started to make sense with the evidence that you had. Going away for months, the guns, the paranoia and depressive episodes, the wounds, all of it paired with his tattoo made it seem obvious and yet there was one issue.

If he was military, then why didn’t he tell you?

It made you curious and yet wary of the answer. Truly, you didn’t want to know, not when he was so adamant to keep it from you, as if knowing would be something that you would regret. 

Besides, someone in his family could be military and despite your reservations about them from your limited knowledge, you weren’t going to be upset if he got a tattoo for them in their memory.

Simon seemed to have noticed that you were staring at it and he placed his large hand over it, covering it from your view and snapping you out of your daze. He looked down at you, his eyes the same as always except you could see that serious look in them, the one demanded you to not ask questions.

“You still have that gift for me or do I need to do somethin’ else for it?” He wondered and you smiled.

“Wait here.” You handed him your plate before you got up and rushed to your room.

You grabbed the joke book from under your bed and made sure that the wrapping was intact. You went to walk out of your room but hesitated a pit growing in your stomach as you stared down at the silly birthday wrapping paper.

Were you really about to give a guy who might be military a joke book? Suddenly you felt foolish, as if you had been caught doing something that you shouldn’t have and you debated on whether you should pretend it got damaged to get something different. It would save you the embarrassment of giving him a stupid book but it would probably disappoint him in the process. 

You could unwrap it and give him the card instead, but that would nearly be almost more of a let down than the actual gift.

A huff left you and tapped your fingers against the wrapping paper.

You should’ve just gotten him a generic gift that most men get, like a bottle opener or a pocket knife. At least that way he wouldn’t have been too disappointed.

“Still there?” Simon called out and your heart jumped to your throat.

“Yeah, couldn't find it for a sec.” You lied and took a deep breath before you stepped out of your room. 

If you got this over with then at least you could get him a different one later. You could always tell him it was a gag gift in an attempt to save yourself too much embarrassment but you felt that somehow Simon would see right through your lie.

You walked into the living room, holding the book close to you as if it were something precious and sat down further away from him this time, noticing that he always had pulled his sleeves down. You glanced up at him to see that he had the excited look in his eyes like he had earlier in the morning which made you even more nervous.

“You didn’t tell me what you wanted so if it’s bad, I’m sorry.” You prefaced and watched as he raised an eyebrow.

“You’re overthinking this.” He tried to assure you with his usual deadpan tone.

“Maybe…just don’t laugh if it’s that bad.”

“I won’t.”

You hesitantly outstretched the gift for him and watched as he gently took it from your hands. You chewed on your lip as you watched him inspect the wrapping on it before he began to tear it off, causing you to grip the couch underneath you. You were practically burning holes into his face when he finally took all of the wrapping off and looked at the cover of the book.

Simon's eyes lit up and it helped calm some of your nerves. 

“I wasn’t sure what you were allowed to have when you’re gone but I got it travel sized.” You explained and he glanced at you with a twinkle in his eyes.

“You like my jokes that much?” He seemed amused by the idea and when you nodded, he huffed a laugh.

“There’s a card in the front.”

Simon pulled the card out, a simple card with a dinosaur on the front that had “ur old” written on the front, and sent you a quick glare that made you snicker. He opened the card and raised an eyebrow at the twenty pounds that fell onto his lap.

“Nobody likes cards without money.” You shrugged and he picked up the note to inspect it. “Use it to get cigarettes or something pretty.”

“Something pretty.” He repeated with amusement. “Think a I need a pop of color?”

“It’d do you good I think.”

He grunted and looked at the card, his face falling when his eyes landed on the polaroid that was taped on the inside and the writing that was scrawled onto the blank space of the card. His sudden change in his expression made you fidget with your fingers as you remembered the photo.

It was a rare photo of you and Simon together, one that you pretty much had to force him to take with you since he seemed to be allergic to any kind of camera. You promised him that it was just for you since you wanted to at least document that you were friends with him somehow. You ended up making two copies and thought it was fitting for him to have one since he was your friend after all.

“I forgot I put that in there…” You mumbled but trailed off as you realized he most likely wasn’t listening.

Simon read the words on the card over and over again, his eyes jumping from them to the polaroid as if he couldn’t understand what he was seeing. His shoulders had tensed up and his free hand clutched the banknote so tight that it crumpled in his grasp. 

By now you were worried that you had either overstepped or completely failed with the gift giving. You were disheartened, your throat tightening up just a bit as you tried to come up with something to say to alleviate the situation.

“You can ignore what’s on the card, I wrote it when you were gone.” Your eyes were glued to his face to see his reaction.

Simon’s eyes darted to you and you shrunk underneath his intense gaze. He was breathing ever so slightly harder, enough for you to notice, and his eyes hazy yet there was something deep hidden within them, something that made a shiver go down your spine. His gaze was too much but you still couldn’t look away as much as you wanted to, as if looking away from him would cause more trouble.

He haphazardly put the card down and before you could react, took your face into his hands and kissed you on the corner of the mouth.

You froze. Your eyes were wide and your heart was in your ears as your mind raced a million times a minute, trying to figure out if what just happened was real and if he truly meant to kiss you there. All the while Simon stared at you with similar shock, almost as if he didn’t mean for it to happen at all.

Was he going for your cheek and missed? Was he going for your lips and missed? Did he actually just kiss you or was it a really drunk hug?

You were panicking, your already shot nerves mixing with the alcohol created a strange feeling in your stomach that urged you to attempt to kiss him back. 

However, much to your dismay, he quickly pulled away from you before you could even have your lips connected. Heat immediately washed over you and you nearly ran out of the room as you scooted away from him, completely unable to look him in the eyes now as you felt the need to sink into the couch and never appear again.

You misread the situation, the alcohol had gotten you, the horrible, stupid liquid turned your brain to mush and made you too impulsive. You wanted to die, you wanted to do anything to get rid of the embarrassment you felt that you went to leave before Simon grabbed onto your wrist.

“Don’t.” He pulled you back down and kept hold of your wrist. “Look at me.”

You couldn’t make yourself look at him even if you wanted to. The thought of having to stare at his intense eye right now made you feel sick to your stomach. You just wanted to hide in your room until both of you decided that this never happened and that your friendship wasn’t ruined by a misunderstanding. 

“Please.” 

One word, soft and desperate, had you turning your entire body towards him immediately. You hesitated for a moment before you looked into his eyes, the comforting brown dowsing some of your nerves as he drank up your face, the intensity still there but held back by the fact that his face was red and he eyes broke from yours multiple times.

He looked just as embarrassed as you felt.

You were about to apologize when he cut you off.

“Not like this.” He swallowed hard and stared deep into your eyes hoping that you would understand what he meant without him having to say it out loud.

It took you a moment to realize and most of the embarrassment fading as his eyes darted away from yours. You stared down at his hand around your wrist, his hot skin against yours prickle with goosebumps before you eyes widened. If he doesn’t want to kiss you now that means he wants to kiss you later which means he’s thought about kissing you.

You felt dizzy at the thought and you could hardly think straight as it was. You couldn’t think about the implications of the words he said right now, not when you were stumbling drunk and close to a heart attack due to this very awkward situation that he admittedly put you both in. 

“Oh.”

That’s all you could think to say. A meek ‘oh’ as if that was enough to convey the feelings and thoughts raging inside of you that would surely clear the air if you said them yet you couldn’t find the words to do so. But right now maybe that wasn’t what you both needed.

No, right now you needed to ease the situation so you could think about this later with a clear mind and without screwing it up more.

“Tell me a joke.” You said, your voice still small, and he looked at you with confusion. “Tell me a joke, Simon.”

Simon let go of your wrist and turned away from you. He gave you one last glance before he picked up the joke book and flipped through the pages, taking his time to read through the lines which filled the room with awkward silence that mixed with the random movie on the TV. 

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

“What do you call a prisoner going down the stairs?” He asked and you knitted your eyebrow with confusion. He didn’t look up from the book when you didn’t answer but he nodded. “Condescending.”

“Oh man.” You scoffed, cringing at the horrible joke but finding it hard to not laugh all the same.

You fought against a smile that threatened to appear on your face and you made eye contact with Simon as he glanced at you. You watched as his shoulder relaxed slightly and he looked back down at the book in his hands, eyes skimming the words like mad.

“A book fell on my head today. I’ve only got my shelf to blame.”

“Ugh! Horrible.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter now or the smile as the alcohol made it so much easier for the jokes to make you happy. You scooted closer to him and he turned his body towards you, his eyes still looking at you hesitantly, almost as if he was asking you permission to keep going or to even look at you, but he couldn’t help but smile as well. 

“What kind of murderer has fiber?” He asked and you shook your head. 

“I’m going to regret this aren’t I?” You waited for him to continue as you prematurely cringed from the bad joke that was about to grace your ears.

“A cereal killer.”

You made a disgusted sound but laughed and rested your forehead against his shoulder. You expected him to nudge you off but he didn’t and instead you heard him let out a quick sigh of relief before he flipped through the book again.

Simon rattled off a few more jokes, each of them making you laugh and taking the tension out of the air until both of you were settled against each other on the couch as if nothing had happened. He pressed his shoulder against yours as he closed the book and stared up at the ceiling. 

The movie took up the silence as you both sat there for a moment.

You looked up at him and he looked down at you when he saw you move from the corner of his eye. You took in his scars again and the way that they seemed more prominent from his red cheeks, looking into his eyes to see that they still had the tired look in them before you spoke.

“How drunk are you?” You wondered and he blinked.

“Not drunk enough to forget this.” He admitted, knowing exactly the reason why you asked him.

You nodded, knowing that you were the same. Even if you were more drunk than you were right now sure that you would remember something like this and yet the thought didn’t scare you. As embarrassing as it was, you didn’t want to forget it.

“Good.”

Link to Part 3

A/N: This feels messy but honestly I can't go back and restart so I hope it's okay. Also Idk how the UK money system works so just imagine what I put is correct and not wrong lol

EDIT: I forgot to put the tags sorry!! @msecho19

[neptuneiris]

Cruel Summer (02/10)

Paradise Beach

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader

summary: after a bad day at work, you head to the beach of your dreams, where an unexpected encounter occurs with a person who is too well known in the city and very rich.

words: 7.7k

previous part • next chapter • series masterlist

omg i can't believe how much you guys liked the first part! i really thought the story wouldn't get so much support (especially since i haven't finished CYPTBIL👀) but you guys again surprised me🤗 i'm very inspired with this story so i'm very happy for all the support, so enjoy this new chapter and look forward to the others!🙌🏻

thank you for reading!

warnings: none in this chapter.

You hate to see the beach dirty.

You've always had a problem with people who leave all their trash on the beach without any remorse and in full view of everyone. Many people will be embarrassed to confront them and create a fuss, but you... you defend the beach.

The first community program you see that brings people together to clean up the beach to better help the ecosystem, you're the first to sign up.

And that's the bad thing about living in Black Waves.

The beaches are not the best kept. There is dirt everywhere, the smell is horrible and really very few people make an effort to keep the beaches on this side clean.

The complete opposite on the beaches of Crown's.

This is mainly why you want to make a difference, to have clean and beautiful beaches despite the 'status' that the rich label you in the worst way.

You've seen their beaches and they are very well kept, that's true. It was clear to you when you went to that party last night and saw the white sand.

Obviously the rich people pay people for maintenance, whether they are poor people or whatever, but your people can't afford that, so they either clean it themselves or they just don't do it.

Pretty much the same goes for restaurants and venues of any kind.

Certainly the restaurant you work for is on a beachfront terrace in a luxurious and exclusive part of Crown's, the same goes for most of the restaurants in this area.

But in Black Waves the restaurants are less sophisticated, the food is fast, some are wood-framed, and there are no more than four people working there.

The places to buy clothes or basic necessities are the same, even a grocery store is inside the same house of the owners, while the rich have a huge shopping mall with brand name clothing stores, accessories, libraries, coffee shops and more refined restaurants.

They also have on their side of town large supermarkets where every fruit, vegetable or meat is triple the price of what they sell it on your side of town.

The prices are also different, clearly.

In Black Waves the dishes sold in the restaurants are affordable, while here a seafood dish costs fifty dollars.

And today especially your boss is in a bad mood, like every day, but today more so.

"Hey."

Alysanne whispers to you from the other side of the bar as you finish cleaning one of the tables and watch her almost instantly, where she takes care that your boss doesn't see you both talking.

"Daniel has texted me, he says Cregan is taking us to another one of his parties tonight," she lets you know with the clear excitement all over her contained face, "They say it's going to be great and maybe Cregan can take us up on his parents' yacht."

You let out a sigh and like her, you check to make sure Mr. Frey doesn't catch you talking in mid-shift.

"Tonight?"

"Yes," she says without removing her excitement.

"We're working double shifts today, Anne," you tell her without encouragement.

"Oh come on. We can't miss the opportunity to spend the party on a fucking yacht," she whispers excitedly to you.

"My feet are already hurting and it's not even four in the afternoon," you point out to her.

She gives you a bad look.

"Y/N," she tells you reproachfully.

"Depends on how the day goes."

"Are you serious? We must—

"You two!"

Mr. Frey's voice immediately catches your attention and Alysanne's, where you notice him already watching you both with a scowl on his face and clearly furious.

"Did I pay you to chat or to work!?"

The two of you exchange a glance and immediately turn away from each other, each returning to their respective tasks. But of course, it not only draws the attention of the two of you, but also that of some customers, and the two of you endure the humiliation of being scolded in public.

"You'd better move and I'd better not see you two chatting again or I'll pay you exactly what you deserve or send you back to your side of town."

You almost want to laugh in his face, but like any educated woman and again out of necessity, you keep quiet, as does Alysanne, but the looks you both exchange say it all.

You would like to tell him that because of the mistreatment and this kind of humiliation in public, the two of you and the other workers should be paid more, especially because you have to deal with a boss like him, but neither you nor anyone else says anything and continue working.

And precisely because you were talking to Alysanne for only a brief moment, Mr. Frey takes advantage and overloads you both with too much work for the remainder of the shift.

And that's why you definitely decide not to go to any party.

Your feet hurt, you are urged to take a bath, eat and lie in your bed, however, you are surprised to see how Alysanne has way too much energy for the hell you both had to go through and as she talk to the guys by text, the more excited she gets about going to Cregan's party.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?"

Alysanne asks you as she finishes getting ready, looking at you through the full-length mirror.

"Honestly I'd rather go to the beach to relax instead of being surrounded with music, the smell of beer, weed and teenagers getting drunk."

She gives you an amused look.

"And why don't you do that?"

"I don't have a ride and it's too late to walk."

"Cregan is coming to pick me up in his car along with the others, I'm sure he can give you a ride if you ask him."

You give her a curious and unsure look.

"Do you think he'll accept?"

"We're going to the same side of town, he'll be passing through," she nods with a nonchalant gesture.

At least you don't have to get too dressed up and you won't get tired, so you trust Alysanne and start getting ready too. Not too much like her but to look presentable.

As time goes by Cregan finally arrives with the boys making a huge fuss, excited about the party tonight. Alysanne tells them to shut up and they are lucky that your uncle and aunt haven't complained about them yet.

You give Cregan directions after asking him to please give you a ride and pretty soon everyone is inside of Crown's.

"Wait, you're not coming with us?" Sam asks you confused.

You shake your head.

"Why not?"

"I'm too tired for a party."

Chase gives you a knowing look.

"I can't believe in all this time you haven't been caught."

"It's not like I'm doing anything wrong either," you shrug.

"But the rich hate us and I bet you they'll make a huge fuss if they catch you."

"Yeah, who knows, maybe a trespass sue," Daniel agrees.

"Even knowing you don't have the money to pay for it," Chase tells you.

"Trespassing?" you repeat between amused and incredulous, "Going to sit on the edge of the beach is trespassing? Do you even know what trespassing is?"

"In any case, the rich won't like it if you get caught," Sam says making a nonchalant gesture.

You decide not to take it any further and finally arrive at your destination point, where you get out and walk over to the side of the pilot's window to see Cregan.

"Thanks for the ride."

"No problem," he smiles at you, "But the guys are right. If the owners find out about you, you can get in big trouble."

"I've been doing this for almost a year," you let him know, "I'm very sneaky."

He shakes his head with an amused smile.

"Just be careful. We'll come get you when you tell us."

"Okay," you nod, "Thanks, Cregan."

"Take care," Alysanne says to you from the passenger seat.

"Sure."

"And if the rich see you, get in the ocean and swim to the party, we'll help you there," Daniel tells you too.

You give him a look and and a not entirely convinced smile.

"Yeah, sure, very helpful."

You finally start to walk away from them as they continue to yell at you to take care of yourself, to call them in case of anything and so on, until Cregan starts up and his car begins to disappear into the distance.

And then you take action.

You look around, quickly assessing the area, making sure there are no people nearby to see you, but surprisingly this whole luxurious area of Crown's is quiet.

The only movement you notice is several cars passing by, but other than that, there are no monkeys on the shore.

There is a wall in front of you that marks the line between this private neighborhood and the houses in the same neighborhood that are even more private, since they have a huge front yard and a huge part of the beach exclusively for them.

The wall is not high, fortunately, you think it should be, but this is compensated by security guards who patrol this area and the beach from time to time.

So stealthily and in a calculated manner, once you make sure that there are no people nearby, you hide among the bushes and trees that are planted in the corner of the sidewalk to put your foot on a specific crack that you know of the wall and push yourself upward taking the edge of the wall with both hands to be able to observe the other side.

You quickly scan the entire area, making sure there are no guards patrolling nearby nor any of the people who live in the houses before jumping.

The meters of distance are considerable between the huge houses or rather mansions. There is pavement between the divisions and those divisions are exactly the way to the beach.

You put on the cap of the sweatshirt you are wearing to cover your hair and your face, since you know that all the houses must have security cameras outside, so this way you protect yourself in case of anything.

And once you make sure that there is no one outside or nearby, you gain impulse again with more strength and as fast as your feet allow you but still being careful, you place your hands on the rough edge of the wall and start to climb.

You adjust your grip more firmly on the edge and in one agile motion, you propel yourself upwards, where you feel the effort as you pull your own weight and more as you try to be fast.

Luckily you've done this many times before and when you reach the top, wasting no time and making sure no one is watching you, you quickly slide down the other side and you fall on your feet with a dry sound.

You don't take the time to rest and looking around, with adrenaline running through your veins and your heart beating too fast, you quickly advance towards the beach.

And once you are far enough away from where you managed to cross and indeed you confirm that no one saw you and everything is fine, again, you can relax.

You remove the cap from your head and let your hair free again, slowly feeling how the breeze and the wind with the salty air envelop you completely as you approach the seashore.

Easily anyone who lives here if they see you could tell that you live here too, besides the night also helps you because without so much light they can't recognize you right away.

And it is as if you are also a rich person, daughter of rich parents, being inside a private section of the beach in Crown's most exclusive area.

And as you go along, this is precisely why you take the risk of coming to this place when it is forbidden to you; the place and the view.

The sand here is perfect, clean as if no one had ever walked on it, the air is salty with no smell of anything unpleasant in specific, there are no people that could be dangerous around you and the surroundings are absolutely beautiful and clean.

Also this section has a cliff a bit secluded from all the houses, where its huge rocky wall looks absolutely beautiful and ethereal when illuminated by the night light.

You have come here many, many times and you always head to the same place, that specific pier.

The pier stretches out in front of you like a polished wooden path, leading into the deep waters of the night ocean.

Discreetly placed lights along the pier illuminate it with a soft golden glow, creating a contrast to the darkness surrounding the horizon.

The reflection of the small lamps trembles on the surface of the water, giving the place a magical and mysterious air.

The structure is impeccable, made of dark, sturdy wood, maintained with a care that only the rich can afford. There is not a single splinter out of place, not even an ill-fitting clove.

Every detail is taken care of, right down to the polished wooden benches at the end of the pier, ideal for sitting and admiring the sea in silence.

As you approach, the wooden planks creak softly under your feet, but the sound mixes with the gentle murmur of the waves, making it almost imperceptible.

And when you reach the end, you can see a large yacht moored at the side of the dock, with it's deluxe cover and it's name painted in gold and silver lettering.

You have no idea which rich family it might belong to, but you know this is just one of many they must have. It wasn't here the last time you came here and fortunately it doesn't obstruct the view.

You take a seat on the wooden bench and letting out a big breath, you watch as the full moon reflects off the ocean, it's silvery sparkles dancing on the water in hypnotic movements.

This is why you love coming here, even in this way, because the fresh, salty night air fills your lungs with every inhalation.

And just for an instant, you feel freer than ever in this space that is not supposed to belong to you.

Besides you not only enjoy seeing the moon, but also the stars, shining brightly and adorning the entire night sky. And you can rest easy, because there is no danger on this side of town.

You've been enduring a lot at work lately, taking a lot of strain on your shoulders from double shifts and stressing over the slightest thing, but coming here and being here gives you that much needed quiet time.

And only this place can offer you that; peace and tranquility.

You don't know exactly how much time passes but you find yourself in the same position, not getting bored and enjoying the view, wishing time would freeze so you could continue to enjoy this without worries.

You think that Alysanne and the guys must be having fun too, but for tonight this is all the fun you need.

Suddenly your phone vibrates next to you and the screen lights up as a new notification comes in. You casually pick it up and see a new message, and it's from Alysanne.

It's a selfie of her with the guys, all happy, laughing, smiling, beer bottles in hand and with the sea and yachts in the background completing the scene.

You let out a small laugh as you see Sam's euphoric face, Daniel and Chase's funny faces, and Cregan and Alysanne's smiling faces.

"Excuse me?"

Your whole body reacts and jumps instantly from shock and you look quickly and sharply behind you with all the panic on your face, definitely not expecting what you see.

Aemond Targaryen.

Shit.

It's the first thing that comes to your mind as you quickly jump to your feet, your heart beating too fast and your hands starting to shake.

That's when you know that the moment has finally come where you're caught and you're in big trouble.

Aemond watches you with a serious and attentive face, analyzing you completely. And you feel completely small when his eyes look at you with confusion and distrust, but challenging.

He clearly has no idea what are you doing here and maintains a defensive posture.

And you definitely feel like a thief who's just been caught in the act.

"What are you doing here?"

Oh God.

You think in terror.

How come you didn't hear him coming? The boards creak with the weight when someone walks and you couldn't hear anything?

You think that you should have been more attentive, that you shouldn't have let your guard down, because it's not possible that you really were so distracted and in your own world that you didn't hear him coming. 

But with him already here, watching you in a bad way, looking cold and suspicious, that you don't have time to scold yourself or think about it.

"I-I..." you stammer, in a shaky voice, not having the slightest idea what to say, very nervous and scared.

All you can feel is a lump in your throat, an irregular throbbing in your chest and the overwhelming weight of his gaze on you.

He doesn't look away and his serious face doesn't change, clearly waiting for an answer.

As you watch him examine you, you watch as he runs his gaze up and down you, trying to decipher who you are. And it doesn't take him long to come to an obvious conclusion, because he instantly knows that you are not like him.  

By your clothes and your old sandals, everything about you gives away that you don't belong here. Besides, he doesn't recognize you from among the other Crown's families to be able to say that you belong to one of them.

He knows you're not from around here.

"I asked you a question," he demands you in a bad way and with a harsher tone, walking towards you, "What are you doing here?"

You feel a shiver run down your back as you swallow hard, but the words just won't come out.

You're paralyzed, terrified, stuck, because you have no idea what to say and you're still processing that this is really happening. 

You know you don't have any good excuses and he's impatient, waiting for an answer that really won't be convincing to be the truth.

"I will call security for invasion of private property," he warns you firmly, clearly beginning to lose patience.

The danger in his words makes the fear hit you even harder and you finally react in panic.       

"No, no, please," you finally manage to say, worried and raising one of your hands to him in supplication, "I-I… I'm not doing anything wrong, I swear," you raise both hands in surrender, trembling.

He inspects you more closely with a piercing gaze, trying to find something, anything, to tell him what you are really doing here or what you are trying to do, watching between you and his family's yacht anchored to the dock.

His posture remains tense, ready to act if he finds anything out of place. 

He thinks that maybe you are doing something with the yacht, but he sees it in perfect condition, with nothing strange and nothing out of the ordinary, as the rope that ties it to the dock is without problems.

But he still continues to watch you seriously, defensively and suspiciously.

"Shit," you mutter under your breath, lowering your gaze, embarrassed and terrified, "This has never happened before," you say, reproaching yourself for the mess you've gotten yourself into.

But he hears you perfectly, and his frown deepens.

"Before?" he queries you.      

You close your eyes tightly, cursing yourself internally for having said that, to again look at him pleadingly and in desperation wanting to prove to him that you really aren't doing anything wrong.

"I swear I—

"Hello!?"

The unexpected voice makes you jump again from surprise and you watch with your eyes wide open behind Aemond as one of the security guards enters the dock, his flashlight illuminating the way.

Your heart beats with such force that it seems to thunder in your ears, as panic engulfs you completely. 

And without thinking too much, you move quickly, hiding behind a huge wooden box, taking advantage of the pole supporting the roof at the end of the pier and some scattered chairs. 

You crouch down, trying to make yourself as small as possible, but desperation gives you away with every move.

This definitely ends up completely confusing Aemond, not expecting that reaction and movement from you at all.      

And you watch him from your hiding place with all the pleading and forgiveness in your eyes, silently begging him not to say anything, not to give you away.

But he turns his gaze to the guard who ends up coming closer.

"Are you all right son?"

Your heart stops momentarily and you watch him in terrified silence, simply waiting for the worst. 

But even to have his whole look serious and not showing much reaction, you watch as hesitation appears for a moment and he falters in his words, as if he doesn't know exactly what to say, until he does.

"Yes," he finally says, "I'm all right."

The guard, seemingly satisfied with the answer, nods, but doesn't leave.     

"The Baratheon's reported a break-in in their backyard a few days ago," he says and you listen carefully, still waiting for the moment with fear and concern, "Nothing serious, apparently just clothes and some decorations. I'm just patrolling to make sure everything is in order."

Your breathing quickens as you listen to every word and Aemond continues to watch the guard, when suddenly he shoots you a quick glance, his eyes reflecting a mixture of seriousness and indecision. 

"Yes, so I hear," he says.

"Are you alone, son? I thought I saw someone else here."

Fuck.

Your stomach sinks and you close your eyes tightly, then watch in terror for the moment when Aemond will finally speak and give you away.

But you see the hesitation in his gaze again, you also watch intently as he opens and closes his mouth a few times, failing to say anything.    

When suddenly you see him let out a long breath and slyly give you a look with his serious face, then lick his lips and press them together in resignation.

"Yes, I'm alone."

As soon as Aemond utters those words, a wave of relief sweeps through your body. But almost instantly you stare at him in complete shock, unable to believe it. 

He really just covered you in front of the guard. He didn't really give you away even when he had every reason to do so.

Your hands are still shaking, but you slowly feel the adrenaline and anguish start to subside. 

"Well, we'll be around if you need anything. Good night, son." 

Aemond nods in his direction.

"Yes, thank you. Good night."  

You stand still for a few more moments, listening to his footsteps fade into the distance until finally there is no more noise. Just the sound of the water against the dock and the night wind on the waves.

You take a deep breath and slowly, you sit up, emerging from your hiding place with your hands still shaking. 

Your eyes meet those of Aemond, who is still standing, watching you with that penetrating gaze that seems to be able to read all your deepest thoughts. 

You don't know exactly what to say to him, you're still surprised and don't understand why he saved you, but the words come out on their own, grateful and fearful.

"Thank you," you murmur apologetically but with all the sincerity in your gaze, "Thank you for not saying anything."

He doesn't say anything to you, which confuses you even more, he just keeps standing there watching you, with his usual hard-to-read expression.     

“I-I..." you stammer, biting your lips and lowering your gaze for a moment, still feeling nervous, "I really wasn't doing anything wrong. I wasn't stealing or harming or anything like that, truly," you tell him honestly.

Again, he says nothing. He doesn't move either. He just stands there, with both hands tucked inside his front pockets of his shorts and still watching you with utmost attention that makes you feel incredibly nervous, even more so due to the circumstances.

You are also surprised that he is not kicking you out and threatening not to come back here. 

You honestly don't understand his behavior and the fact that he saved you from the guard, but for whatever reason, you thank him or you would have been in big trouble.

So cautiously, you take a step towards the entrance and exit of the pier.        

"And I'm sorry. You won't see me around here again. I really don't want to cause trouble," you add, watching him warily and wanting to make clear the promise in your words, "I'll leave now," you say quietly.

And having nothing more to say, you turn around, ready to run away if necessary, but you barely take two steps when surprisingly his voice stops you.

"What were you doing here?" he asks for the fifth time all night, his tone just as accusing but now with a curious tone. 

You stand still, not knowing exactly how to respond. 

But you know you have two choices: lie or tell the truth. And for some reason, you feel you can't lie to him; Aemond Targaryen.

Aside from belonging to the wealthiest, most prestigious and powerful family in Sunset's and the entire country, with his father being Viserys Targaryen himself and being one of the heirs to his entire fortune, he seems to be someone who seems to have the innate ability to detect falsehood.

That's why you don't understand why he saved you, a poor girl who doesn't belong to his world and probably never will, but still, you decide to be honest.       

Anyway, you're already stuck here and as crazy as it sounds, you owe Aemond Targaryen one.

"I was just... looking for some peace and quiet," you confess, turning your body to once again look at him, "I had a bad day and coming here..." you look around with a wistful look, "It helps me."

Aemond tilts his head, frowning slightly and biting the inside of his cheek, inspecting you. 

"And you can't do that on the beach on your side of town?" he asks you with a tone of disbelief.

You sigh, feeling a twinge of frustration as you think about the answer. It's a reasonable question, but the answer is not so simple. 

"Not really," you reply, lowering your gaze for a moment and biting your lips in nervousness, "Surely you know it's not the same at Black Waves."

He shakes his head slightly.

"I've never been there."

You almost look at him with an obvious look, almost, but you end up nodding, since of course he's never been to your side of town when he lives here.   

"The smell of the beach there is not so nice. They are not as clean as these, there is dirt and being there alone in the middle of the night is dangerous," you explain.

And everything you say is true, which is why you decide to come here.

And he looks at you, clearly digesting your words, saying nothing for a few moments, as is becoming usual between the two of you.

You think that maybe for him, someone who has lived surrounded by luxury all his life, it is somewhat difficult to imagine such a different reality. But it is also no secret how the people of Black Waves live.

So you don't understand his silence or even his behavior, but what you do see in him, surprisingly... is that he doesn't judge you.

You would have expected the face of disgust instantly like any spoiled child of rich parents and also that he would tell you to leave now with that posture and superficial look.

But nothing.       

Aemond Targaryen doesn't really reflect anything with his eyes. Unless he's judging you and giving you those looks of disgust in his mind.

But, strangely, he doesn't make you feel any less.

"And coming here... it's like my paradise, for the peace and quiet," you conclude in a low murmur.

Again... he doesn't say anything.

And that begins to frustrate you.

He just watches you, as if he's evaluating every word, every gesture and every detail in you. 

And you silently think to yourself that he probably doesn't say anything because he really wants you to leave, to leave him alone and never come back here.

So you try to leave again, because you've caused enough trouble and you can't risk staying.   

However, just as you prepare to say goodbye and apologize, again, he interrupts you.

"Since when do you come here?" he asks with a tone that reveals a mild interest you weren't expecting.

Inevitably your nerves run through you again and you swallow hard, having no idea whether this interrogation is good or bad, but you still decide to be honest to avoid as much trouble as you can.

"Last year," you confess apologetically.

He raises his eyebrows slightly.

"And no one had caught you until now?"

"It's just that I don't come here much, I promise," you say instantly, sincere, "Like I told you I only come when I really need to... when I want peace and quiet. And I don't do anything but sit around and watch the ocean, that's all."

He nods slowly, again processing your words. 

And you don't know it but to Aemond... there seems to be something about you, something about the way you talk or maybe that you're a Black Waves girl, that keeps him interested.

His blue eyes, cold but curious, fix on yours, as if he wants to see beyond the words, as if he's looking for some kind of hidden truth.    

The silence that follows feels interminable and finally, he with his relaxed but dominant posture, takes his hands out of his pockets and turns around, resting his arms on one of the railings of the pier. 

He stares off into the horizon with that serious look that tells you nothing and you just stand there, wondering if you should still leave or what you should do, since you don't understand anything.

"You can stay," he says suddenly, his voice low but firm.

You frown and stare at him completely confused, having no idea if you heard right or not.

"What?"

"You can stay," he repeats, not watching you.

You blink, watching him in shock, now being the one processing his words, not really understanding anything but feeling completely surprised by his offer.      

You didn't expect this. Not at all.

And at that moment comes the distrust in you, as it can't be too good to be real.

"Are you sure? I mean..." you watch him uncertainly, "Maybe you want to be alone," you shrug.

You watch as he sits up and starts pulling something out of his pockets, which ends up being a lighter and a pack of cigarettes.

And without looking at you, he shakes his head.

"I'm fine," he tells you carelessly, taking a cigarette and starting to light it.

You watch him curiously, not understanding why he's being this way with you... so strangely kind. And that without knowing where it comes from, you begin to like him.

"And you're really not going to give me away? This isn't... I don't know," you shrug, "Like some kind of trap?"    

You watch as he takes a drag and blows out the smoke, putting the lighter and the pack back in his pocket.

"No," he says serious and almost annoyed, so you decide not to question him anymore, as strange as this is, "If you want to stay that's fine, if not you can leave too. Just do what you want, if I wanted to give you away, I would have done it already."

You remain silent, processing his words. You frown and watch him as he takes another drag and then the smoke rising to dissipate in the cool night air.

There is something about his posture, the casual way he holds his cigarette, that disconcerts you and catches your attention.

He doesn't seem like the kind of person who would let someone like you just hang around, much less in a place that is clearly his, or at least his family's.

So you feel unsure how to interpret all of this.

So you continue to stand, still waiting for some sign that you should leave, but he gives you none. Instead, he just looks off into the horizon, where the water meets the dark sky, lit only by the moon and stars.

And the truth is, you don't know what to do.

The prospect of staying there, with him, someone you barely really know and who could give you away at any moment, still makes you nervous.

However, you are also intrigued by this strange friendliness he is showing.

So you decide to stay, so you again take a seat on the edge of the wood with carefree movements, your feet dipping into the shimmering water beyond.

You give him a brief glance, unsure if he'll sit down too or if he'll just leave. But to your surprise, he stands beside you, silently smoking and not watching you.

It's not warm or comforting company, but somehow, the stillness you both share is more soothing than uncomfortable.

And so the minutes pass and the sound of the water, soft and rhythmic, begins to soothe you again. The cool night air makes the anxiety in your chest slowly dissipate, as does the tension in your shoulders.

And with each passing of time, you realize that nothing bad will really happen by being here with him. And you also realize that Aemond Targaryen is maybe not arrogant and shallow like the others.

He hasn't even been mean to you and hasn't judged you, so that's why you decide to start a conversation.

"Why are you here?" you decide to ask, without looking him and simply moving the waters gently with your feet, focusing on that.

The question floats in the air between you, and for a moment, you think he won't answer you, since maybe he told you that you can stay but it doesn't mean you should talk to him.

But then you hear him move, his weight making a slight creak in the wood.

"Same as you," he finally replies, though his tone is less curt this time, "Looking for peace and quiet."

You're instantly taken aback by his honesty and also by his response, definitely not expecting that, so you frown and look at him confused.

"Really?"

He watches you and his gaze instantly paralyzes you, watching as he watches you just as confused but this time defensively at your reaction.

"Why is that so incredible to believe?"

You bite your lips and avert your gaze, thinking very hard about your next words, as you shrug and watch him again.

"Well... I'm just thinking why a person who has everything and certainly lacks nothing would come here... looking for peace and quiet," you explain with genuine curiosity.

He lets out a snort, with a bitter look on his face as he brings the cigarette back to his lips.

"Neither you nor anyone else knows everything about me and my family," he says with an unexpected harshness in his tone.

You remain silent, surprised by the frankness of his response and avert your gaze to the horizon.

You feel a slight discomfort that you didn't expect and it's not because of what he said, but how he said it, so serious and distant.

But maybe he's right.

All families at Crown's are characterized by more than just money, power and status, and that's appearance.

The rich probably think they know everything among themselves, but your people see a little more reality and you know that behind that perfect facade there are secrets, tensions and burdens.

And the Targaryen's are no exception. Even Cregan has hinted at it many times, with his wry, half-joking comments about the lives of wealthy families.

The moment between the two and the conversation seems on the verge of becoming awkward again.

And just when you think the talk is over, Aemond takes another drag and, surprising you, looks sideways at you with a cool but questioning expression.

"And what happened to you?" he asks you suddenly, changing the subject.

"Hm?" you observe him attentively and confused.

"Why did you have a bad day?" he repeats just as calmly, but this time, with a casual, carefree tone.

"Oh," you murmur, turning your eyes back to the horizon.

You didn't expect him to be interested in something so personal. But since he asked, you decide to be honest.

"Well, apparently my boss hates me and made me work double shifts today," you explain, letting out a sigh. "It's stressful enough to put up with his bad treatment and workload, but I also had to deal with a lot of rude customers."

His gaze remains fixed on you, as if processing what you just said. Then he goes back to staring at the horizon with a disinterested look and takes another drag on his cigarette.

"Sounds like shit," he finally says, his tone dry but without a hint of empathy.

"Yeah, it is," you reply, letting out a bitter little laugh, "But it is what it is."

He nods slightly and suddenly, the distance you felt between the two of you seems to diminish a bit.

Aemond isn't as unapproachable as you thought, and though you still don't quite understand why he's acting this way, you begin to see that maybe, just maybe, there's more to him than meets the eye.

You stare out at the water in silence, the sound of the waves lapping gently against the pier pilings filling the air.

And you are surprised by how normal this situation is.

You mean, who would have thought? You, a poor girl from Black Waves and him, the heir to one of the most powerful families in the region, sharing a night on the dock as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

You don't understand anything but... you like him.

"I've never seen you before," he murmurs after a while, his eyes focused on the horizon, "Nor do I know your name."

You stare at him incredulously and let out a small chuckle under your breath.

"I think we both know why," you say knowingly, "It's not like our paths cross very often. And my name is Y/N, Y/N Blackwood," you introduce yourself in a soft tone.

He falls silent, seemingly memorizing your name and within a few seconds, however, he doesn't seem convinced of the other.

"I don't know. I know everyone in town, even if not directly."

You frown slightly.

"That sounds... exhausting."

"It's part of the family, knowing everyone. Knowing who's around you, even if you don't deal with them," he explains, "But I had never seen you."

"Well... I've lived at Sunset's for a year now with my aunt, uncle and my cousin," you explain, relaxing a little more as you see the conversation flowing smoothly, "And before the summer started, I started working at Mr. Frey's restaurant to save up for college in a few more months."

He turns his whole body toward you, still standing and leaning against the pole holding up the roof at the end of the pier, glancing at you from time to time but keeping more of his focus on the horizon.

"Your aunt and uncle?" he asks, "Why don't you live with your parents?"

That question takes you by surprise, and for a moment you don't know what to say. It's obviously a personal question and you weren't expecting it at all.

Then you look at him, where his eyes are serious and inquisitive towards you, although you don't perceive any bad intentions, just a curiosity.

"I guess I don't know if I should tell you that," you say with a small smile and amused tone, trying to downplay it and not make the moment awkward, "You know... trusting one of your own kind."

He lets out a slight chuckle, making you smile a little wider.

"My kind?"

You shrug.

"Yeah, you know... a rich one."

"And what makes you think you can't trust me? I didn't give you away a while ago, did I?"

"And why did you?" you ask, unable to contain your curiosity seizing on the comment, "Why didn't you give me away?"

He lets out a long breath and takes another drag before answering, his voice low but steady.

"I don't know, maybe because you were honest."

"But you're not like that, no one in your class is empathetic and forgiving."

"Do you really think you know everything about me and my family?" he questions you again.

You look at him obviously and incredulously.

"Please, everyone in this place knows everything about you and your family. Even the poor people. You're like the royalty of the city, after all."

You see the slight annoyance on his face, making it clear that he's in total disagreement with you, and you make up your mind to prove your point.

"I mean..." you sigh, "You are known as your father's son who has a perfect life just like your siblings, heirs to a wealthy and powerful family. The Targaryen's are known for that, work, money, power and status... or am I wrong?"

He doesn't respond right away, just watches you with an intensity that makes you feel a little vulnerable.

And just when you think he'll finally let his true self out and he's exactly like the other rich kids, he surprisingly lets out a sigh and looks down at the water, with an almost resigned look on his face.

"Yeah, but it's not all as simple and wonderful as it seems. It's not the whole truth either."

Those words leave you thinking. And they also leave you watching... him.

At the previous party, you couldn't see much of him from afar, let alone being on the second floor of a huge yacht. But he is... captivating.

You trace the shape of his nose and the structures of his cheeks with your gaze, watching as if it were a slow-motion movie as he lifts his cigarette to his lips and raises his gaze to the sky to expel the smoke, marking the bone in his neck.

His silver hair shimmers slightly in the moonlight and makes him look like some sort of ancient Greek God, where you silently admire the handsome features of his face.

You can't see his eyes in detail because of the light, but you know they are blue, characteristic of the Targaryen along with the platinum hair.

And then you wonder, what else is behind that facade his family has so meticulously constructed for him?

Who is Aemond Targaryen truly?

The night continues as the two of you stand there, sharing the space, the air, the silence. There is no need for more words for now, it's just enjoying the little shelter in this corner with him.

And after a while, you decide that maybe it's time to leave.

"Well... I guess I should be going," you mutter, starting to get up, then looking around the perimeter one last time, etching the image in your memory, "I'm going to miss this place."

He turns with slow, nonchalant movements toward you, dropping what little is left of the cigarette to crush it with the sole of his tennis shoe.

"What do you mean?" he asks, with that calmness that always seems to surround him.

You look at him in confusion, then shrug, letting out a small, resigned laugh.

"Obviously I can't come back here now that you've caught me," you tell him with a sad little smile, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear from the wind, turning around, "Oh and..." you look back at him, "Thanks for not give me away, seriously."

You give him a look and a small grateful smile, as he keeps his expression hard to read, as usual, but totally focused on you.

Neither of you say anything else and assuming this is the final goodbye, you start walking towards the dock exit. But then you hear his voice behind you.

"Wait."

And that's what you do.

Confused, you turn to watch him again, watching as he takes a step forward.

"You can come back if you want," he says to you suddenly, in a tone of voice that is soft, but also mixes indifference and something else that you don't quite manage to identify, "Just... make sure no one else catches you."

That definitely takes you by surprise, since you weren't expecting it. And you watch him silently for a moment, trying to read his expression, but he remains as enigmatic as ever.

However, there is an unexpected sincerity in his words that makes you smile, this time with more warmth.

"Really?" you ask, unable to hide the disbelief and excitement in your voice.

He nods, folding his arms, saying nothing.

"Thank you," you reply, and this time you say it more firmly and with happiness in your eyes.

You lower your gaze and resist the urge to smile big, feeling a strange sensation in your stomach, to again watch him.

"Bye, Aemond."

You take a step back and turn around, when again he stops you as he speaks.

"You're going home alone?" he asks, this time with a little more interest in his voice.

You laugh softly, surprised that he cares, not really understanding anything but liking it.

"You know? We poor people have a good thing after all... survival style."

He doesn't say anything to you, just watches you with his piercing colored eyes as he licks his lips and then simply gives you a small nod.

You don't say anything else either and finally turn to leave, beginning to leave the tranquility of the dock and him behind, under the dim lights of the night.

And as you walk away, you feel the sea breeze on your face and wonder how a night that began with tension and fear ended with something as unexpected as a truce with Aemond Targaryen.

series taglist:

@zenka69 @strangersunghoon @deliaseastar @thefireblaze @kythefangirl25 @p45510n4f4shi0n @saturnssrings @bellaisasleep @primroseluna @tinykryptonitewerewolf @barnes70stark @tssf-imagines

[aloesarchives]

Toji Fushiguro General/Relationship Headcanons #1

TW/Warnings: Profanity, Domesticity, AFAB/Female Reader, the talks of starting a family, little bit of married life (LMK if anything else needs to be tagged)

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her (Usage of female gendered terms like Sweet Girl, Woman, Princess)

Word Count: 6.6k words

So these head canons exist for all versions of Toji that I write. However, these are more based around Modern/Non-Sorcerer Au and my personal ‘Toji Lives’ Au. But these are also stand alone because they are some general stuff I think about for Toji in general and his relationship with reader. I’m doing a separate head canons where it’s mainly family/domestic fluff with Megumi and Tsumiki. Maybe making more parts if I have more head canons.

Also, I'm starting to plan out the parts for my Toji x Reader/Megumi x Reader mini series. I'll release a google form for those who are interested in the mini series and another one for the continuations of my Suguru x Reader/Satoru x Reader one-shot. So stay tune for any updates in the upcoming weeks!

!!Not proofread and unedited!! 2/22/24 11:26 pm CST

One thing’s more certain, when you first met Toji, you didn’t fall in love right away. Your relationship with Toji was something gradual, building up over time as you kept running into him. 

One of your most notable encounters happened in the grocery store you always go to and see him at. Your fridge was getting empty as per usual so you came today to fully stock it. As you were nearing the end of your trip, you stopped by the meat section to grab some meat for tonight’s dinner. Normally, you prefer your local butcher’s but they were on vacation so this would have to do. As you were going to reach for one, another hand reached for the same one, a much larger hand. You quickly retracted and apologized to the individual when you saw Toji smirking at you. The two of you talked for a bit before your eyes wandered towards his basket. It had barely anything in it, to you at least. There were some canned drinks, minimal vegetables, a bag of chips, like a loaf of bread.

“Are you picking some things for your pantry, Toji?”

“Nah, this is my food.”

“For today?”

“For this week.”

You stand there absolutely stunned. By the looks of his nonchalant expression, he was not joking. You didn’t want to ask him if this is how much he can afford to not make him feel embarrassed. So you invited him to your place for dinner and to cook for him. Toji's insistence on declining was strong, but your persistence for him to eat was even stronger. Adding Toji’s grocery and paying for everything. Toji carries the groceries to your place and you both enjoy a warm filling meal for him. The man had never eaten so good before he fell asleep on your sofa right after. The next day, he woke up around 10 am to the sound of you washing dishes. He sees breakfast for two on the table and a large bag sitting on the counter. You tell him to join you and you both enjoy your breakfast. While cleaning up, Toji asks what’s the big bag for and you said it’s for him. You cooked him a week worth of food because you knew he didn't have time or energy. So you handed it to him as he’s leaving, telling him to come back anytime for a good meal. As soon as your front door closes, he’s just standing there trying to understand what just happened. His heart is swelling at your gesture, his face ablaze with a heavy blush, wondering why he is feeling this way for you. And Toji makes the horrific realization that he’s falling for you and it won’t stop there.

Most likely you have to initiate the first hangout because the man is clueless when it comes to interactions, specifically with women in a non-flirtatious/transactional way. He started to like you because you weren’t handsy with him or led the conversation to something else. You were interesting because your interactions were real with no other intentions besides talking to him. You’ll admit he’s hot but won’t say it out loud because you don’t want to say something uncomfortable or overstep your boundaries. 

Your hangouts consist of eating at those family-owned restaurants or hidden gems, the food’s good with a good price. Walking around or in a park, maybe hiking if you’re even interested. He doesn’t have money to take you out properly but you aren’t someone who’s into high-end or fancy places because they’re a waste of money in your opinion. You find inexpensive ways to spend time with Toji and it’s fun for you because you don’t have to worry about his expectations because he’s having fun too.

The more he sees and spends time with you, the more he values your company. He starts smiling more and is in a better mood than all his years alive. He definitely isn’t energetic but he isn’t as robotic as he used to be before meeting you. Shui notices this but doesn’t say anything to Toji because he thought he was overthinking things. But when Toji asks him how do you know you’re in love, Shui thought Toji legit went insane. Toji doesn’t want to talk about it but he doesn’t know who the hell to ask so Shui is his closest bet. He asks Toji who got him acting up and Toji shows him a picture of you and he asks Toji if he kidnapped you because he didn’t know he could pull an absolute unit of a woman. And Toji replies “I don’t know man, I don’t even know myself.” Shui is lowkey happy Toji has you. He is fully aware Toji doesn’t have the best background but it’s clear as day you being around him is changing him for the better, undoubtingly saving him.

Toji doesn’t have the best living conditions, he lives by himself in a rundown studio apartment that only had a basic kitchen, a bathroom, and main space that doubled as the living and bedroom. He barely had anything in his apartment other than a futon, a closet, and a table. Got some trash lying around because he doesn’t bother to pick it up. Apartment smells like the back of the house kitchen at a restaurant mixed with the boys locker room in high school. You offered to help clean up. Trash bags full of trash and used cleaning wipes, laundry done and fresh, every surface wiped clean. By the time it was done, his apartment looked brand new. You wouldn’t be surprised that it was trashed again but at least it was clean for once. After your help, Toji becomes a little conscious of his space and cleans it. But this turns into him not using that space because he’s always at your place.

Toji has a habit of ghosting/disappearing without notice. You’re seeing him at the supermarket, next he’ll be gone for like a month or so. Since you really don’t have his phone number, you can’t contact him but it’s not like you two were friends let alone dating at this point. You say it is what it is until one stormy night you heard a hard knock on the door. The next thing you see is Toji, two duffel bags, a cut above his eyebrow while being soaked. You shoved him inside, gave him a towel while patching him, drying his clothes while he changed in your guest bedroom. 

Toji lives with you and split the house chores. But since you’re technically the one with a consistent income and job, you mostly are away from the house and Toji is 90% at home. You do grocery shopping or errands before and after work while Toji holds down the fort. It's been a rough few weeks with him but there was progress. And it was good progress.

You find out pretty fast how Toji’s terrible spending habits and crippling gambling addiction. Luckily for you, you have your own bank account so you don’t have to worry about the man stealing your money. However, you do force Toji to give his paycheck from his inconsistent but very high paying jobs. Literally one of his checks had a value of $30 Million Yen! You cashed it in your account so fast and paid all your bills and groceries off for a minimum of 3 months. It never struck why Toji doesn’t see that as much money but you come to learn that his clan is a prominent one with a substantial amount of wealth so that amount doesn’t surprise him. But still, you told him you’re permanently in charge of the finances because you don’t trust him handling any money. Strangely enough, he doesn’t protest at your rule and now whenever he’s done with a job, he instantly gives his cheek to you. You do give Toji some personal spending cash besides for food and necessities, then eventually a card that’s attached to your bank account. But it’s not a joint account but a card that has access to your account. His card has a spending limit to the equivalent of 67.7k yen(roughly $475 dollars) every month. He CAN withdraw money but you are notified through your bank’s notifications when, where, and how much. Even though you two are balling because of his cheeks, you don’t get carried away with the spending because life in the city is too fucking expensive and you need all the money you can get. Plus, you don’t want to raise any suspicion because you’re pretty sure Toji’s money is blood money or from the black-market and you don’t want to draw a lot of attention for your own safety.

Toji only knew how to cook the basics but nothing over the top or fancy. But once he starts living with you, he starts learning how to cook and for all things under the sun it’s fucking immaculate. Toji’s cooking just tests better to the point you assign him on cooking duties since he cooks better and faster than you. Your co-workers are always envious every time they see your lunch. It’s something different everyday but it’s delicious and filling but not the kind that makes you lethargic. It’s so fucking good that you two don’t eat out as much because his cooking has evolved to peak gourmet. Lowkey is happy you like his cooking and it gives him motivation to continue his work if it puts you in a good mood.

Which brings up another point. I believe Toji is capable of gaining multiple useful skills, it’s just he’s unmotivated. Like he could be good at changing tires, plumbing, handy-man work, cooking, any installation, anything under the sun, but he chooses not to because he doesn’t feel obligated to do so. But it all changes when he starts living with you. Man becomes a jack of all trades and he basically makes life easier because you have him fix/do what needs to be done all the while you’re saving money. He’s a fast learner too. Pretty much once he does it the first time and it works without breaking/doesn’t turn out like shit, it’s locked in his head and knows how to fucking do it.

Initially, Toji is lazy because he is a go with the flow type of guy that doesn’t concern himself with appearances. If it’s livable, not rotting, and doesn’t smell rancid, he’s not going to touch it or bother picking it up. That’s why his apartment was a mess because he’s able to live in those conditions because they’re his own, that's not a thorn in his side. Like he’ll leave his clothes by but not near the hamper because he’ll eventually pick them up when it’s laundry day(you end up picking it up but you started to trip over them while in the bathroom). But you establish a routine for Toji to follow. He doesn’t have to follow it exactly but you said there should be at least 4 main components to it. Literally forcing Toji to pick up habits so he’ll be more productive and conscious of his time. 

Took some time but he eventually attaches to it because it mostly revolves around your schedule. It got to a point where he would be waking you up for your work, getting you your morning drink and a decent breakfast, getting your work bag with your lunch inside, all the while getting you out on time. If not, 5 minutes early so you can be on time for work. I can imagine him saying stuff along the lines of:

“Shakes your shoulders firmly (Y/N), Wake the hell up. You slept through your alarm and it fucking woke me up. You gotta get out of the door in 30 minutes or you’re going to be stuck in traffic, dumbass.”

“Oi (Y/N), it’s 6:00 am. You have 15 minutes to get your ass up and get ready for your work. Before 6:20, you better have your work clothes on when you come into the kitchen because I already made your breakfast.”

“I’m trying to get you out of the door early so you can catch the early train and beat the morning rush. Here’s your lunch and your work bag. Make sure you have everything because I’m not going to bring it to your work if you ask me to.” (He does anyway)

“Hey, it’s going to rain hard later so here’s your umbrella cause I don’t you to fucking sick knowing how you get careless with yourself some times. Pain in my ass…”

So you kinda tamed Toji, this wandering stray cat that was 6’2 and built like a concrete pillar. But you didn’t make it your whole personality trait because 1.) you think it’s pretty fucked up to think helping Toji/people like him is more of a project than genuine compassion. 2.) And you roll your eyes when people say you ‘“fixed” Toji. You just say “Um, no? No I didn’t, Toji picked himself up and changed because he decided to. Not because I FIXED him or him changing isn’t my doing because you be surprised by the amount of people that stay the same because they chose to.” Another reason why Toji fell for you is because you see Toji as a whole human with flaws, you humanized him. You don’t parade him around like some sort of object, you acknowledge his presence and it makes him fall in love with you even more.

Definitely have arguments for sure early on that were rougher compared to being together for a while. Again, this is mostly due to him growing up and being treated as sub-human. He’s vocal not because he chooses not to communicate. But because he doesn’t know how, especially with you, his safe person and your home being his safe space. He was used to being neglected, dismissed or straight up abused altogether. But now that he’s living with you, he’s trying to dismantle his old mindset while learning how to communicate/vocalize his thoughts. He feels he’s unworthy of you because you have an immense amount of patience and understanding for him. Sure, there are your flaws but so does he and he knows living with someone like him is harder than anything else. So he’s appreciative of your efforts and faith in him.

He knows he has a loud voice and is careful when he loses his temper. Obviously for noise complaints but also for because it can be startling and scare you. God, one time you both almost got into a yelling match because of something miniscule and irrelevant but it transformed into something deeper that you didn’t know why you two were fighting about it in the first place. But the way he snapped at you and you unconsciously flinched at him, his heart felt heavy and cracking. He never saw you scared before but the thought of him being one of your fears terrified him immensely. He softens himself and deflates his body to show the surrender of his pride. He ACTUALLY genuinely apologies to you and opens his arms out so you could hug him.

Most of the arguments are just you being frustrated with him. Mostly this was early on with his lack of routine and productive habits, like him not picking up his clothes and leaving his cups everywhere. But Toji is one of those passive guys where he doesn’t like arguing with you and wants to end it asap. Even if he’s not in the wrong, he’ll just admit and apologize to you so you aren’t mad at him anymore. He doesn’t like it when you’re mad at him. Sometimes it can escalate to heated ones but those happen rarely and only exist when something snowballs. He may give an attitude here and there but you mostly know that’s him being himself and he doesn’t mean it.

Your relationship didn’t have a definitive label but the lines are blurred between the two of you. You two hug and hold hands sometimes but it’s more than platonic but not enough for love either. Through large and tight crowds, Toji lets you hold onto his arm , has his hand firmly pressed on the small of your back, or holds your hand tightly as he makes his way through. It’s common for you two to be passed out on the couch together or on the floor after watching a movie or a show. Or how he leans his head on yours when on the train, even carrying you home if you fell asleep and doesn’t have the heart to wake you up because you're tired from work. What you have with Toji is nice and comfortable but you do end up loving him because he makes your life warm and worth living. You just don’t know if he’ll feel the same. Oh but he does, he fucking does. But he doesn’t know how to say the three magical words because he never heard them at all when he was growing up. Let alone someone saying it to him.

You definitely say I love you first before him. Because let’s be honest, this man never knew what the hell ‘love’ or true love is. This man grew up in a traditional family that prioritized status, reputation, influence, and anything under that umbrella for traditionalism. So love was never an important aspect of his clan. So for you to show him the true wonders of love and its ups and downs, he’s overwhelmed and a little ashamed because he’s trying to adjust and get used to this feeling. He isn’t a fairly vocal man but he’ll forever be grateful for your patience, kindness, compassion, and understanding towards someone like him. He freezes when he hears you say it to him with such tenderness and warmth only you could give him. You know he’s not ready to say it back but you couldn’t help but tell him because it needed to be put out there for both him and you. You told him he doesn’t have to say it if he’s not ready or doesn’t feel the same. But you also said that you truly only care for and love him only.

But when he said “I Love You” to you, you knew he meant it with all his heart. You could remember it clearly because it was storming with heavy rains. Flash flood warnings are being sent out and weather channels are telling citizens to stay indoors and not leave their homes. Toji has been trying to call you for the past hour but you never picked up. His anxiety was rising, fearing you were stuck or possibly hurt. He says fuck it and grabs his jacket to go out when you open the door just as he was about to leave. Your clothes were wet but not soaked but you held your shoes in your hand while dropping your umbrella and bag on the floor. You tried to explain to Toji that your phone died at work before you could ever call him. There was a flooded street and so you had to take your shoes off to not get them ruined. You did grab him some food though beforehand but that didn’t matter to him when he saw that you were safe and unharmed. He hugged so tightly through your wet clothes when he said the fabled words to you. 

“Goddammit, I fucking love you, (Y/N). I was so fucking worried about you. I thought you were in trouble or something, Sweet girl. .  .”

You started to cry when you heard him say that you kissed him on the lips by impulse. You thought you fucked up and try to apologize only for him to return your kiss with his only while you hold his face and his hands on your waist. Fuck it was beautiful.

Pretty much after that, you both were in the trenches of love with each other. Fuck it’s so tooth-rotting to see it that Shui jokes and teases the hell out of Toji because that man changes his whole demeanor when you call him. He calls him out on how his voice changes from its usual monotone gruffness to low but soft. Toji tells Shui, “I’m a changed man.”

People are so jealous of you two. How the hell did Toji bag you!? The most ethereal, beautiful, compassionate, kind, funny, and respectable woman?! And how lucky did you get finding such a fine specimen of a man?! 

Toji’s pronouns are literally HE/HIM because Toji is HIM while you’re the IT girl with the one of your pronouns being SHE/HER because you are HER FOR REAL ON GOD.

You two are the IT couple, I don’t make the fucking rules. There’s you being the best version of yourself and you unapologetically. Then there’s Toji who’s hot AS FUCK and following his favorite girl around because you’re the only girl for him, BEST GIRL. He is just there but with you nevertheless.

You’re the couple people make those cool edits of, I’m not even joking.

Knows how to drive both automatic and manual but as an automatic cause because of you. You are on permanent passenger princess duty because this man is your chauffeur until he dies or has no legs. Drives with one hand on the wheel and the other is either on the gearshift, your hand, or your thigh. Looks hot every time he turns or reverses because his biceps show themselves and it’s dangerous for you because it makes you feral.

IDK if it’s just me but Toji seems like the guy to buy a whole rotisserie chicken just for himself. He’ll buy one for you, of course. But one of those bad boys is his because he’s not sharing! After a workout or work, he’ll eat it with no signs of meat left on the bones. They’re so clean he even eats the cartilage.

Toji seems like one of those individuals that looks full grown when he’s younger like in his early 20’s and just stops aging altogether. Not like his entire appearance stays the same, it's just his genetic game is so strong and good people believe he's like 25 when he’s actually in his mid to late 40’s. You and him are like cheese and wine. Both perfectly paired together, and the aging is unnoticeable but you both taste divine.

His closet is the most basic and uncomplicated. T-shirts, undershirts, sweaters, hoodies, joggers, sweatpants, maybe one pair of black cargo pants but that’s about it. He always wears sweaters or hoodies when he’s out because he lowkey doesn’t like to be stared at unless it’s you. He knows his compression shirts would make people drool so he opts out of showing up in them unless it’s super hot or he’s too lazy to cover up. Toji definitely would wear those oversized Uniqlo t-shirts for men. He has the black, dark green, and dark blue ones. Fucking never leaves the house with his fucking sandals or black kung-fu slippers. You buy a pair of black Air Force 1’s, Vintage Black Arizona Grip Birkenstocks, and some Doc Martin black leather boots(1460 Smooth Leather Lace Up Boots). You had to up his shoe game because there is no way you’re letting him only have two pairs that are very worn out.

People think he isn’t all that because he’s chill and uncaring most of the time. In reality, Toji knows how to tap into his inner dawg like a switch. He’s really good at hiding it and not making it obvious. But like then snap! He summons his inner dawg and menacing aura. You could be talking to someone unaware that is staring them down. You smile at him and his aura changes so fast as he smiles at you in return. But as soon as you turn away to continue talking to the person, the menacing aura just returns. His aura is so intimidating and menace-like that people genuinely grow anxious and fearful. So much so that they could piss/shit themselves or even throw up if they didn’t have a strong will.

Personally, Toji is more of a German Shepherd boyfriend than a black cat boyfriend. IDK, it just makes sense to me. Like he talks and isn’t hostile to people he knows like you and Shui, literally the only two people in his life that he’s close with. But everyone else, he either hates them or doesn’t give a single care in the world. 

I also personally think Toji isn’t stupid and he's actually intelligent. I think his past issues and how he was treated is the reason he seems like an incompetent person. But really, he’s pretty smart. I know this doesn’t involve the canon but the fact Toji knew which weapons to use on Satoru, beating Suguru with an inch of his life but not killing because he knows what Suguru’s technique can do if he does, and the whole plan with the bounty on Riko was pretty genius. Look, I’m not trying to vouch for him for what he did. But you can’t help but admit what Toji did was impressive. He worked smarter, not harder compared to other people. Especially letting the curse user do all the work for him while he gets to deal with the easy part and go in for the kill. The man came prepared to get the job done. I mean I would too if there was $30 million yen on the line. Sure, he’ll forget to pick up on some social cues. But once the man locks in, he'll be the most observant and perspective person in the room and he’ll learn something about someone just by their body language and simple mannerisms. 

Not sure if this is confirmed or not by Gege but I read someone where that Toji is into philosophical conversations. But I can see because, again, he’s intelligent and has seen/learned a lot of stuff from his hits/jobs. Toji isn’t one of those smartasses that you experience in those advanced classes. He’ll earnestly speak his mind if you ask and what you have to see. He always finds it interesting hearing things from your point of view and I feel like this is one of the ways you two grew close to one another.

You two got married because you just popped the question to him and said yes. You two didn’t have rings at the time but he did buy you the one you wanted but the band had some black on it. His was a solid black wedding band to match yours. Up close, it looks pretty cool. He bought the rings because he asked Shui for any hits/“jobs” that were available on such short notice after you two got married. A week later, Shui notices it and asks him if he finally tied the knot with you. Toji just nods.

Took your last name then both of you decided to add another last name, deciding on Fushiguro. King shit right here. Not afraid or ashamed he took your last name as a middle finger to his clan.

This isn’t a Toji head canon but I can see Shui being a bro and giving Toji consistently well-paying hits/“jobs” because he knows how much you mean to Toji and Toji has to provide for you too. You both would be sleeping and Toji hears a notification go off and knows Shui sent him a job that will be done by tomorrow afternoon.

Routine wise, nothing changes between the two of you. However, Toji is more open and affectionate with you. Especially with nicknames, he rarely uses your real name at home. God, when he calls your names of endearment, you’re going to fucking explode from how deep and gentle voice gets calling out to you. 

He also loves hugging you from behind and having you in his arms. Definitely gives good hugs, they give the right amount of squeeze but are so warm and protective. Is more daring with his kisses, would steal a kiss whenever he gets the chance.

Toji is the type to sleep the closest to the bedroom door. Doesn’t matter where the door is, your body is always in front of him. Just in case something happens, he can/will protect you and he can use his body as a shield to protect you.

Unironically a good listener, legit has a good hearing canonly in reality. He just carries his resting nonchalant face all the time. He could be focused on something or not looking your way, but Toji is listening to you speak and will recite your words right back at you if you think he is. This also helps if you’re someone who tends to forget things or need reminders. He’ll tell you what you were supposed to do 5 minutes ago word for word if you ask him.

Sleeps in his boxers only. Might sleep in a shirt and sweatpants when it’s colder. But Toji’s body mass produces enough heat to be a furnace that you both only sleep with one blanket. He’s always warm. If you get cold hands, fear not because they’ll be warm in five seconds if you place them on Toji’s abs.

Fairly possessive to an extent. It’s usually blended in with protectiveness because one can bleed into another. Like he’ll let you to your own devices but isn’t going to whine if you have guy friends. Toji can read between the lines, he has really good social cues. But he’ll straight up tell you he doesn’t like your male friends/co-workers if they are interested in you romantically. You’re his girl, he wants people to know it. But he would literally kill for you and bring the Heavens to their knees just to keep you safe and protected. Would literally take the fall for you in anything, you can’t change my mind on that. Toji: “Your honor, my girl did nothing wrong. It was self-defense.” 

Toji has self-esteem issues for sure. You could have anyone in the whole world, anyone in this lifetime. But you choose him, and always chose him. The amount of times Toji had to get/do something while you wait for him only to come back to see a random-ass guy talking and trying to get your number. His heart would squeeze at the scene because he wouldn’t blame you for going for someone better. But when he sees you say “Sorry to break it to you, but I’m with my boyfriend and he should be back any second now.” Seeing your eyes scan for him and the way your face lights up seeing him made his heart inflate, making the squeeze disappear. You speed walk to Toji, ignoring the dude, and hug his arm tightly. Toji kisses your head as he walks with you not before throwing the dude a shit-eating grin his way. After that, Toji knows you’re loyal to him and that’s a fact.

But if we’re going to be honest, none of us would leave Toji if he treated us well and deservingly. Plus he’s strong and has the body that even the Gods are jealous of, how are we gonna fumble a bag like that? Ngl, if I meet Toji in real life, I’d run in the other direction fucking scared b/c I’m not fantasy me and fantasy me is better. 

Nicknames for you consist of Doll, Babe/Baby , Honey or Hun, Dear, Sweet Girl, Sweet Thing, Princess.

Toji is the type of man to say “Wear whatever the fuck you want, Doll. I can fight” and says it with his chest with no questions asked because it’s true. Toji got that win streak with zero losses under his belt. But then again, no guy will try to hit on you when they see Toji giving them the ultimate stare down when they try to do something funny.

Once gut punched someone so hard they were sent flying while throwing up what they ate for the day because they tried to make a physical move on you and Toji’s instincts just took over.

Toji definitely brawls and fights. He could get jumped by like 10 dudes and send all of them to the hospital completely unscathed. But his beatings get more aggressive if he is with you. Like if you two are out and some guy tries to hit on you and uses his group to intimidate him, you give Toji the approving nod and he’s just giving all of the most devious combos to ever grace this plant while you're sipping on your drink watching it all unfold.

Also, Toji isn’t letting things slide when you’re uncomfortable, annoyed, or God forbid, scared. One time, you told Toji you were going to get food for both of you at your favorite local restaurant/bakery/cafe. But you were gone longer than expected so he went to find you and saw you talking to a guy. He was confused at first because you usually tell them off or leave automatically. It wasn’t until he got closer when he saw the severity of the situation. To any passerby, it’s two people but then up close you can see the guy’s friend right behind him, backing him up and purposely corning you so their pressure would make you say yes but you held your ground. But you were lowkey scared because they trapped you in an abandoned lot that was hidden from the public eye. So when Toji saw how your body shrunk and clutching your bag of food to your chest, that was his green light to go in. Toji grabs the guy’s throat, his hand being big enough to get a good grip. His eyes are cold and daunting, telling the guy, “You must have shit for brains because she clearly isn’t interested in you. It’s not cool to corner a woman with your bitch-less friends.” That’s his only warning to them before he boxes all of them. Took him 2 minutes max and he’s pulling you along with your food in his other hand. 

Toji also would be more than okay if you ask him to pick you up or drop you off from work. You both have a car but it’s cheaper and more convenient to take public transportation. Like he’ll walk with you to work and leave once you’re inside. Once you’re off, you see him outside waiting for you. Your co-workers you vibe with wonder who’s the handsome guy that is always waiting for you and you say that’s your husband. They’re gawking at him and say you’re so lucky. 

Hates him when people tell him what to do but will follow every command you give him. You’re the only one who can boss him around and he’s actually happy to oblige. Responds with “Yes, Sweet girl”, “Anything else, Honey?”, or “Of course, Dear/Babe/Baby”.

Toji is the type of man to follow you anywhere and do anything with you as long as it makes you happy. The type of man to be like “It is what it is, I’m not gonna complain”.

His body is made from the amount of work he has to do for his occupation. He doesn’t need to go to the gym because he gets a full pump by doing push ups alone at home. Does pull ups in the doorway, has a heavy barbell and dumbbells set in your home because you allowed him thinking it would make him productive. Literally puts body builders and any gym goers to shame. His strong body is built by his job alone and his body’s innate ability to gain muscles and keep a low but healthy fat percentage.

Doesn’t drink because he has a very high alcohol tolerance and also he can’t get drunk too. So if you’re not into drinking, he can always keep you company and will back people off if they pressure you into drinking even though you declined. He can see the amusement in drinking culture but he doesn’t drink himself because he hates being under the influence. He won’t mind if you do and he’s more than willing to pick you up from a night out of friends. Not a fan of bars but will go if you ask him to, your drinks are always protected.

Thinks he can rizz you up but it’s you who has the most powerful rizz out of the two.

If you’re having a bad day or just having a mental/emotional breakdown, Toji will try his best to comfort you. If you want him to hold you, he will hold in a loving and protective embrace. Definitely say things like, “You’re going okay, Baby”, “I’m here, Honey. I gotchu”, or “You’re with me, Doll. I won't let anything happen to you.” Not really good with advice but Toji always listens to what you have to say. He will get you anything you need or make you any food you’re craving at the moment. The man would literally go on a last minute grocery run to make you your favorite food to make you feel better. It makes him feel at ease when your mood lightens up or you smile at him.

Not a picky eater but eats the same types of foods because Toji doesn’t get sick of them that easily and he doesn’t have to think too hard on what to eat. But he will make something different everyday for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for you. He would judge you for eating the same food over and over again but not him because he eats just so to satiate his hunger.

He’s your infinite garbage disposal. You’re full or don’t want to finish your food, Toji will eat it for you. His hunger can be satisfied but his body has a large capacity until it reaches full. He never knew what it was like to be full.

Toji is always the big spoon. Maybe some nights he likes to be held by you but he’s the big spoon no matter what. Probably because he desperately needs to feel your presence in the dream world and protect your physical body. More of a back sleeper than a side sleeper but can sleep in either position. Sleeping positions consist of his arm around you and you’re tucked into his side while using his shoulder as a pillow, sleeping on his chest/on top of him, or back hugging you where his massive body engulfs your own. He loves being close to you when sleeping and hates when you’re not in his arms.

Most likely Toji will have nightmares because he feels like he doesn’t deserve you. If not, feel his life he has with you is even real. Sometimes the dark void is there with shadows looming closer to consume him the more he continues to think like that. It’s not until he wakes up to see your sleeping face and gently caresses it is when he realizes this is life was real, you are real and right in front of him. He smiles like a fool before kissing your forehead and holding you close.

Never has thought about his future because he didn’t think he would live this long, or have a domestic life. But now that he has you and is married, he constantly thinks about the future, your future together. He couldn’t imagine a future without you, it’s not possible for him. He imagines having a family with you and hopes you share the same idea as him.

I know these are wild and don't make sense for his character but let me dream, okay?! I've been simping for this man since October 2020, I've been waiting for this, lol. Anyway, thanks for the support!💙❤️

[deluwoo]

i love you's

pairing ▸ boyfriend!hiphop line x gn!reader genre ▸ headcannon, domestic fluff, fluff, slight suggestive warnings ▸ food [lmk if there are more !!] wc ▸ 541

eun's notes ▸ i miss writing sm :(( BUT IM PROUD TO BE ABLE TO POST AGAIN!! just a filler post for now bc ik i will get some ideas soon. enjoy, my doves! ★

seungcheol ▸ his i love you’s can be found in hushed giggles and gummy smiles. another smile-line is another year of laughter as two. oversized hoodies and messy hair under bucket hats. i love you’s don’t seem to be words, they are the ideas of you, the actions for you. it is decided he’d move mountains for a lover like you, after all. i love you’s are in the hand placements on your waist when you two are walking in crowded places. its found in his eyes when he checks both sides of the street before walking with you, hands intertwined like ribbons. its found in the ink of his cards that go with every gift. he finds endless excuses to give you them but really, you are the reason of his giving.

wonwoo ▸ i love you’s are in his fingers. tying your stubborn and unruly strands of hair when you wash your hands. when he feeds you the good parts of his lunch bowl. he says i love you’s when he brings you home the snack you were eyeing in the grocery a few weeks ago. he checks everyday to see if its in stock. leaning in and licking his lips when you’re talking to him. his eyes lower down to your mouth, watching as words are formed by the second. i love you’s are in his glances, watching to see if you really enjoy playing animal crossing with him. tender hearts. an antique book store. its smell hanging on to your coats in the winter. i love you’s are in the moments together, because where else would they be?

mingyu ▸ its the second you wake, the aroma of breakfast finding your nostrils. i love you’s are found in the things for you. whether its to cook you a late night snack, or drive you to your errands. the hands that write you letters, hidden all around your room. its found in the silence, head to chest, and the series of lights as the two of you continue to watch the movie.i love you’s are his expressions; ranging from the way his lips curve into a toothy grin while watching you laugh, or the words that roll off him tongue that seem to just make you melt. his i love you’s are in the candles you like. the late nights. the steaming dinner and record player in the back. candle lights dancing in his eyes.

vernon ▸ it’s the paper flowers that flap in the wind, the ones handcrafted with love the night before because he’s allergic to real ones. i love you’s are in the endless playlists he makes, whether burning them on cd’s or adding them to mix tapes. they always have a small dedication, for you are the notes of his life. i love you’s are the things he does for you that seem to suddenly appear. the jacket on your knees when you’re in a skirt, the drink with the specific sugar level. his i love you’s are found in the giggles behind the photos he sends. you can’t tell if the silliness is on purpose or your love is just like that. its the smell of sunlight. the one that seeps between buildings as the two of you walk down the side walk.

NETWORK : @kflixnet @k-labels TAGLIST : none yet (dont be scared to send an ask !)

reblog if i want these ppl ✋😔💔👈 ©eunhae (writer from my old blog wonieweb!!) © DELUWOO – 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞.

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 10

content warning: “vague” descriptions of American colleges (iykyk), Winston [Earth-928/ Earth-TRN590] is here with a cool prosthetic arm (he originally has three! so I thought it would be cool to incorporate his robot arm back somehow), suggestive at parts so MINORS BEWARE (although you shouldn’t be looking at this series at all 😒), Miguel is the baby of his friend group, if the Spanish here is wrong please lmk!

word count: 3.8k, proofread so there should be no mistakes (something short and sweet!)

In case you missed it, you can find GR!Miguel’s full SFW + NSFW Alphabet here!

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who has become one with his room. The bed is comfortable, the AC is just right, and more importantly, he can hide here in solitude.

His parents decided to host Gabriel’s graduation party, Gabriel’s college acceptance party, and a Fourth of July party all at once. It was nonstop trips to Sam’s, Party City, and the grocery store.

Gabriel got a full ride to a prestigious art school up north and his parents were using every second of the summer to make time for him.

They didn’t do nearly as much for him when he graduated and got a full ride. Although, Miguel guesses the shiny Range Rover from Tyler parked outside was enough to soothe the old wounds trying to reopen. Plus, Gabriel really deserved it. The chances of getting in were low, but Miguel helped every step of the way and now a bright future in the Big Apple was calling his name.

Still, if his dad called him to cut the grass or season another pack of meat, he might lose it.

GymRat!Miguel who was glad to see you were still enjoying your summer. He was probably the first to watch your stories, like your pictures, and even comment on your little notes.

He hoped it came off as endearing and dedicated because sometimes he worried it was annoying and clingy. He couldn’t help it, though. You’re always on his mind nowadays.

Today you had posted clips of you and your friends at a Boba shop. He could hear your laughter as you zoomed in one of your friends fighting for their life after sucking up a boba ball.

He smiled to himself as he played the video a few more times just to hear you.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to play a Gacha game on his phone to distract his wandering mind.

There was a character he wanted and he wasn’t stopping until he got her.

GymRat!Miguel who three domains, a farming session, several 10-pulls, and a lucky spot later did not get the character he wanted. He was heartbroken, shattered, and inconsolable.

He groaned and flipped over to the wall, choosing a few colorful words to complain.

GymRat!Miguel who’s half-asleep state is interrupted by Gabriel doing their special knock and poking his head inside.

“Whatdoyouwant,” Miguel pushed his face further in his pillow in hopes that it would make him disappear.

“Broski, your friends are here,” Gabriel sang as if he were a white suburban mom with too much time on her hands. “And they bombarded my TikTok stream so if you could please retrieve them, that would be nice.”

Miguel poked his head up, “Are you rating people’s talents again?”

“Even better. I’m being an NPC and making bank!”

“Why don’t you ever play the saxophone or something?”

“Because that’s not what the people want me to do, Miguel. The people want to see me go ‘Lick a lil sum!’ over and over again. They eat it up.”

Miguel squinted at the bright light coming from the hallway, “In a pickle suit?”

Gabriel looked down as much as he could with his constricted movement, only his appendages sticking out of the holes, and looked back to Miguel with gritted teeth.

“If you would have put your Nightwing costume back on, I could have been Robin and we could have made money together. But it seems that you hate me.”

GymRat!Miguel who watches Tempest push the door open further and shuffle around a seething Gabriel.

“I still don’t know why you’re dressed like a Spongebob character,” she laughs at his green tights.

“I’m not Kevin! Stop saying that. There’s no glasses. There’s no crown. There’s no pants!”

Lyla poked her head around him.

“‘Lewser.’”

Gabriel yelled and turned around, waddling back to his room, “I’m not letting the Geek Squad bully me!”

“You say that like you’re not one of us!” Winston shouted after him, shells and beads in his hair clanking together.

“One of us, one of us, ONE OF US!” the trio started to chant at Miguel’s door.

Gabriel just let out incoherent noses until he was able to shut his door.

GymRat!Miguel who feels like hissing when Tempest opens his blinds.

“Please, no more!” he whined into the pillow.

“What’s with you two today? So snappy,” she mumbles.

Winston stood by the door with his hands on his hips, “Have you been in here all day?”

Miguel sits up, “No.”

“You look like it,” Lyla snickers, kicking a bag out of the way.

“We haven’t seen you in like, forever, and you’re acting like you don’t really care,” Tempest pulls up her long, ruffled skirt to plop on the bed next to Miguel. “Are you sick?”

“No.”

“Did someone die?” Winston pulls out Miguel’s gaming chair to take a seat.

“No.”

“Wait!” Lyla’s voice makes everyone jump. “You failed your class for the first time and now your life is ruined.”

“What? No, never.”

GymRat!Miguel who perks up at the sound of the text tone he picked just for you.

“Look!”

“I just found this picture of us”

“We’re working hard 🫡”

“I’m putting in overtime”

“There’s no PTO”

“Only work”

“We get paid in kisses”

“Only kisses?”

“Everything else is a bonus check for being the perfect employee”

"Aka my girlfriend"

“And what does that bonus check look like?”

“Hmmm”

“She looks divine”

“She tastes really sweet too”

“Inside and out”

“What does your bonus check look like?”

“He’s big and hot 😌”

“He looks really nice when I love on him”

“He feels really good”

“Be very lucky you’re not near me rn”

“What?”

“I’m just describing my elite employee!”

“Aka my bf”

“I feel really good?”

“Yeah!”

“You’re my teddy bear”

“….and you also feel good in other places that I won’t be spelling out”

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t feel Tempest leaning over his shoulder until her voice snaps him back to reality.

“No fucking way you got a girlfriend and didn’t tell anybody.”

She snatches the phone from his hands.

“Temp, give it back!”

“And you’re getting freaky with her while we’re right here!”

“No, I’m not-”

“It says right here ‘she tastes really sweet, inside and out.’ It’s in 4K!” Tempest shoved the phone in Winston’s face who gets the derpiest smile.

“My man!” he reaches his hand out to Miguel to dap him up, ending it in the handshake that only the two of them know. “You finally got a girl and you putting in that work. Let’s. Fucking. Go.”

“At least someone is on my side.”

“I never said I wasn’t on your side. I’m just stuck on the fact that you didn’t tell anyone. No texts, no socials. Just tumbleweed in that big ass head of yours,” Tempest pushed a duck nail against Miguel’s temple. “Like you could have died, and we would have never known.”

“I’m sorry, Temp, it’s been a hectic year.”

“And now it’s summer. We’ve got nothing but time,” she grabbed a pillow to place in her lap. “So get to talking Migster.”

“Yeah, while I can understand waiting to tell us about your girl, this is like, what, the second strike for you? First, no yacht and now this? Aggy,” Winston shook his head.

“All three of you had plans! I checked!”

“And it’s looking like you’ve been with her for almost a year. Wow,” Lyla said from a bean bag on the floor.

Miguel reaches to snatch it from her, teeth gritted in a way that mimicked his brother.

“I never knew you could get so romantic! Maybe scratch the arcade idea off, though. You get way too competitive.”

Tempest hit Miguel with her pillow, “An entire year?”

“Cold-blooded. I should smack you next,” Winston struck his metal arm back like he was getting ready to swing.

Miguel held his hands up, “I’ll finally let you teach me how to play Halo!”

Winston sat back, “2k too, and all is forgiven.”

“Halo and one round of 2k.”

“Deal,” Winston shook Miguel’s hand. “You’ll be hooked once you get the hang of it.”

“God, I hope not,” Lyla mumbled.

“Says the one who yells at children on Roblox,” Winston bit back.

“You don’t hear what those heathens say, I do!”

GymRat!Miguel who is forced to make a short PowerPoint about his past year while his friends help Miguel’s parents set up even more.

“I want a Final-worthy presentation by the time we get back! I even showed you where to get the cute templates,” Tempest fusses from the door before she closes it.

GymRat!Miguel who calls you while they’re gone.

“I mean, if it were me who just found out that my closest friend told me essentially nothing about their partner for that long, I’d be pretty upset too.”

Miguel groans as he leans back in his chair, “That is pretty fucked, isn’t it?”

“But, because I was with you most of the school year, I know that you were just preoccupied with other things. Figuring out college, checking off a lot of adult firsts, making new friends, dealing with family, totally scrambling your way through getting your first girlfriend.”

“Hey…”

You laugh at his annoyed expression and snap a picture, “I’m sure if you just explain things to them, they’ll understand.”

“I hope so. I already promised Winston a game of 2k.”

You scrunched your nose in the cute way that Miguel adored, “I’ll take a gamer, nerdy boyfriend any day. Might draw the line at 2k, I fear.”

“My face doesn’t cancel out the bad connotation?”

“Depends. Will you cancel on me in place of playing with your friends?”

Miguel’s eyes looked to you on his laptop with a frown on his face, “Never. I don’t think I’d do that for anything that can be rescheduled. Did he do that?”

Miguel didn’t want to say his name because it left a bad taste in his mouth.

“More than I’d like to admit, yes.”

“If I ever see him, I might punch him.”

“Miguel.”

“I’m so serious. There hasn’t been one good quality about him yet.”

Only the fact that he was a good stepping stone to get to Miguel, not that he would ever say that out loud.

“He was…nice when I met him.”

“Just nice?”

“He had a cute face!”

Miguel’s frown deepened, “I don’t want to talk about him anymore, actually.”

GymRat!Miguel who finished his PowerPoint with the help of you.

Honestly, you just had to sit pretty in the corner of his monitor.

GymRat!Miguel who was ready to present once his friends got back, each of them sporting a Fanta in their hands.

“Nobody brought me one?”

Tempest made a noise of satisfaction when she took a sip, “A cold one is waiting for you when you finish, buddy.”

Miguel rolled his eyes and set up the PowerPoint.

GymRat!Miguel whose presentation is dragged even further because everyone keeps asking questions.

Section 1: New Experiences

“Only you would attract sorority girls despite the clear baby boy energy radiating off of you,” Tempest said.

“I mean, look at him,” Lyla gestured to Miguel’s body. “We still see our big baby, but that body? That’s what people notice first. We should have prepared him more.”

Miguel’s face fumed as he went to the next slide.

“And only you would make friends with the cafeteria lady. She saw the baby aura,” Tempest quipped.

“L-let’s just move on,” Miguel mumbled.

“You’re on the robotics team!! There’s our Miggy,” Lyla rounds her words like she was talking to a child.

“Guys, Miguel is going to be a tomato if you don’t stop,” Winston chides.

Section 2: Family

“I’ve been waiting on somebody to get that gremlin Kron and you finally got him,” Lyla shook her head with a chuckle.

“I’m sorry about your mom, though. She didn’t really like us too much either when we first started to hang out,” Tempest pulled her knees up to her chin.

“Mind you, I had a mean set of braces, suspenders, and high water pants when we first met,” Winston said.

“Oh my god. Remember when she thought Tempest was tricking Mig into doing her homework?”

“When all I was doing was comparing answers because Miguel was the only one who could keep up with me in that class,” Tempest snickered. “Glad me and Mrs. O’Hara moved past that because I was definitely looking out for you more than she was.”

“Remember when she thought you two were dating?” Winston asked.

Miguel groaned, “That was so fucking embarrassing.”

“You think now I read as a raging lesbian or what?”

Section 3: My Gorgeous Girlfriend Whom Which I Love

“The same guy who lectured me for 10 minutes over not jumping out of a car to hold the door for my girlfriend left his girl at a party?” Winston snickered.

Lyla played with the end of a braid in her hair, “Chivalry is dead.”

“Get all your jokes out now, because we’re going strong,” Miguel waved everyone off as he flipped to the next slide.

“Is that her?” Lyla sat up as much as she could in her sinking seat.

“Yeah,” Miguel’s smile grew at the picture of you from a coffee date on the screen.

“Look at him,” Winston pointed a finger. “He can’t even speak. He’s gone.”

“She’s hot! Nice job Miguel,” Tempest clapped with a giddy smile on her face. “You’re like, lovestruck over there.”

Miguel continued to flip through the several slides he had of you, face sinking further into his palm as he stared at you like he’s never seen you before.

“Does Xina know you have a girlfriend?”

“Woof,” Tempest and Winston said in a low voice simultaneously.

Miguel tilted his head with a confused expression, “What’s with the ‘woof’? Why are you all looking like that? And where is Xina, anyway?”

“She said her parents wanted her to go visit family, so she’s far, far away right now.”

“Did you know she’s transferring to your school?” Lyla asks.

“Why? I thought she was going to an Ivy League somewhere. It was all she talked about.”

Tempest’s eyebrows raised, “Can’t stay at an Ivy League if you fuck up your scholarship.”

"She told me that she didn't like it there," Winston looked confused.

Lyla and Tempest just stared at each other in disbelief.

“If you worked your ass off from starting a non-profit to being the school valedictorian, just to get into one school, would you just up and leave after one school year without finding better options?” Lyla deadpanned.

“Hey, we don’t know what happened. Maybe she really didn’t like it there, guys,” Miguel said.

Lyla and Tempest both gave Miguel twin looks as if telling him to get serious.

“Well, if she’s going to your school, I’m sure you’ll see her at some point. Maybe she’ll tell you,” Winston suggested.

“Yeah, Miguel. She’ll tell you anything if you ask,” Lyla folded her arms with a smile.

“What does that mean?”

“It just means,” Tempest waved her hands around. “She’s enamored by you.”

“Guys. Stop.”

“She’s not lying. Every time we hang out together, she’s always clinging to you,” Winston said.

“It’s been years and she’s never told me anything,” Miguel reached to exit the PowerPoint. What was about to be a 10 minute yap session about you was now turning into something else. “I doubt that if she felt that way, she still feels that way now.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Lyla shrugged.

Tempest nodded her head, “Good on you for being so optimistic.”

Miguel squinted his eyes, “You two are freaking me out.”

GymRat!Miguel who sat with his friend’s words once they dropped him off back home after an impromptu day of fun.

He really needed to get out of the house to reset, but he couldn’t help but to worry about Xina.

He was there when she worked herself to the bone just to even be considered for the top schools. When she got in, she was over the moon.

What could have possibly made her stop now?

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up to sound of his dad laughing and yelling outside of his window.

He dragged himself to the window to see him running around with his brothers with a nerf gun.

It would be a pretty funny sight if it wasn’t 7 in the morning.

GymRat!Miguel who goes through his morning routine of booting Gabriel up, taking his morning run, and eating a hefty breakfast.

He sends you a picture of himself right after he finished the run, sweat dripping down his neck and his skin glowing from the hot sun.

Knowing you were probably still asleep, he doesn’t expect a response until later. So when you call him immediately, he’s filled with surprise.

“Sending thirst traps at ass o’clock is crazy,” you say as soon as the call connects.

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

“So you just happened to take the perfect picture in the sun with your skin all wet?”

“Are you saying that I’m photogenic?”

You roll your eyes and Miguel laughs, happy to see you.

“Where are you going?” Miguel asks, noticing the fluffy headband you’re wearing that’s holding your hair back.

“We’re going to my aunts house and she lives about two hours away so I got up early to get ready.”

“Bebe, qué hermosa eres.” (Baby, how beautiful you are.)

You pause what you’re doing to turn and stuff your head into a plushie to scream.

“You can’t tell me that,” you say when look back to the camera, fanning your face. “I won’t stay focused.”

“But it’s true. You’re stunning.”

You groan and slide down your chair, “Miguel, please. I need to focus.”

“Ok, ok. You still look amazing.”

“Thank you,” you say, patting the back of your hands against your heated cheeks.

“I wanna kiss you.”

“I’m hanging up.”

Miguel laughs as you bring the phone to your face.

“I wanna kiss you, too,” you say before ending the call.

GymRat!Miguel who blows your phone up with teases after that.

It all shuts up once he sees your outfit of the day.

“You can’t do this to me”

“Baby????”

“This is agony”

GymRat!Miguel who is the loudest when Gabriel makes his grand entrance to the party, graduation cap snug on top of his curls. His family is popping mini confetti and string cannons while his little cousins blow bubbles.

GymRat!Miguel who catches Gabriel at any chance he was idle, snapping picture after picture like a proud parent.

GymRat!Miguel who stacks his plate high full of food to the shock of no one.

GymRat!Miguel who almost gets knocked down by Gabriel when he opens his gift of specialized sheet music. After years of hearing the songs Gabriel would blast through the house, he compiled together a music book with covers done by different artists.

"I'm going to play every single one of these for you," Gabriel says with a geeked-out smile.

"Oh boy."

GymRat!Miguel who watches Gabriel scream as their neighbor's dog runs towards the fireworks that he set on the ground.

Miguel always thought there was nothing going on behind those little eyes.

GymRat!Miguel who feels Gabriel slide next to him in the corner of their backyard. A place where the two of them used to do everything from hide-and-seek to sharing secrets to pretending to be superheroes.

Gabriel leans his on Miguel’s shoulder, eyes watching the small fireworks their cousins bought.

“Mig?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you ever get scared when you left home?”

Miguel was quiet for a second, “At first, I was. I was leaving what I knew, but once I got used to it, it was like a weight off my chest.”

The two sat for a minute, listening to their family sing and laugh.

“I’m really fucking nervous.”

“About leaving?”

“About everything,” Gabriel took a shaky breath. “I’ll be so far away. I won’t know anyone. And you…”

Miguel’s sleeve was wet.

“You won’t be there if I need you.”

Miguel turned and pull Gabriel into a hug, arms tight as he felt Gabriel cry into his shoulder.

“No tengas miedo, Gabri,” Miguel’s voice cracked as he rubbed his brother’s back. “I’ll be a call away, ok? Right there if you need me. I promise.” (Don’t be scared, Gabri.)

"Te voy a extrañar." (I'm going to miss you.)

"Yo también te voy a extrañar." (I'm going to miss you, too.)

After a while of the two calming down and making promises to continue their weekly calls, Gabriel leans up and covers his eyes with his arm.

“I told myself I’d save my tears for the move-in day, but it’s just now hitting me how much I’m going to miss seeing your stupid face.”

Miguel laughed and thumped him across the head, “And I’m going to miss hearing your stupid laugh across the hall. But what did you do when I left?”

Gabriel turned to avoid Miguel’s face, “Ma thought I was dying or something. She kept bringing random shit that I liked to my room for three weeks because ‘Te pareces a Ígor, mijo!’” (You look like Eeyore, mijo!)

Miguel bit his cheek as he ruffled Gabriel’s hair. He still saw the little baby who followed his every move. The baby that laughed hard when he read books with a funny voice. The baby that stood up for him front of their mom when he couldn’t even stand up for himself on the playground.

The kid who stayed up with him to beat some game because their dad wouldn't buy them memory cards for the PlayStation. The kid who tried food once he saw it on Miguel’s plate. The kid who refused to go to summer camps without him.

Here he was, sitting in front of Miguel, getting ready to start a new chapter.

“Oh god, Miguel don’t start crying again. It’s gonna ruin the tour,” Gabriel groaned and dug his head into his arms.

“I’m not, I’m not, I’m sorry,” Miguel hurriedly wiped his cheeks, hot tears filled with his thoughts escaping. “You’re going to kill it in New York. By the time I get there, you’ll be so used to it that it’ll be like breathing air.”

“I hope so,” he sniffles and looks back up. “I need to impress Dana.”

“And there he is,” Miguel shook his head. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to visit.”

“Yeah. I already have some places planned for dates.”

“Smooth. That’s the Miguel in you.”

“Shaddup.”

GymRat!Miguel who calls you closer to midnight.

"How was the party?"

"It was pretty good," Miguel moved to settle further into his bed. "Gabriel was happy."

Hearing the tone in his voice, you pouted, "Are you ok, though?"

"Yeah, I'm just. I'm feeling a lot."

He felt he might cry again, thinking about his little brother in a place all by himself, thinking of his parents being empty nesters, thinking of his feelings from yesterday.

"You want to talk about it?"

Miguel shook his head, "Tomorrow."

"Whenever you're ready, I'll be there."

"Thank you," Miguel smiled. "That means a lot."

GymRat!Miguel who feels better listening to you chatter until you fall asleep. His head isn't filled with so much noise and your voice is like a calm breeze.

He can't wait to see you again.

divider by: @thecutestgrotto 🩵

a/n: I was thinking of this video when I was writing Lyla talking about Kron + that smoking duck gif. I also doubt there are many nerds alive that play 2k, I just wanted Winston to play it lol. Anywho, I was going for a boho-chic vibe when I imagined Tempest (with red locs), a maximalist + art deco vibe with Lyla, and an elevated streetwear style with Winston. Winston also upgraded his prosthetic arm to mimic Link's from Tears of the Kingdom. As for Xina...we'll see! 😗

As always, like, comment, and reblog. Let me know how you feel! 🩵

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[buckyispunk]

Aloha

Aloha part one ~ Bucky Barnes x f!Reader (no use of Y/N), read part two here!

masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: You arrive at a Hawaiian resort for your ex's wedding and a man named Bucky buys you a drink. You proceed to spend the next day with him, getting to know him and his friends.

A/N: New series! There will probably be five or so parts, with much more smut, angst, and fluff to come :) let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this series!

Warnings: unwanted touching (not by Bucky), dom!bucky, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, spitting, choking, orgasm delay/denial, oral (f receiving), fingering, drinking, Bucky's got a filthy mouth

Word Count: 11k

Fucking Brock. You sit on the couch staring at the little cardstock rectangle in disbelief.

Join us in celebrating Brock and Marisssa’s special day! surrounded by hibiscus flowers and a tropical design. The flowery invitation theme makes sense when you read that the wedding is in Hawaii. 

You hadn’t seen Brock in years. Three, to be exact. It had been in the soup aisle of the grocery store.

You had been reaching for a can of tomato paste to make spaghetti to eat alone in your little apartment. You looked a mess, having stopped at the store on your way home from a long day of work. You heard him call your name - his nonchalant, egotistical voice recognizable anywhere. 

“Oh my god, how’ve you been? It’s been too long!” He had said, as if he had made any attempts to reach out to you - or had any desire to - since you had broken up. 

“Oh,” you turned around to face him, “fine, you?”

“I’m doing great! Just here to buy some soup for my girlfriend, she’s been under the weather lately.”

Not even a minute into conversation and he’d mentiioned his new girlfriend. You had just broken up two months before. You tried your best to keep the look of shock and sadness from your face. How had he moved on so quick? Did your almost four year relationship meant so little to him? 

You managed to give a small noncommittal smile and nod. He wasn’t paying enough attention to you to notice anyway, grabbing a couple of cans of chicken noodle soup and turning back the way he came. 

“We should get together and catch up sometime!” he had shouted over his shoulder as he walked away.

That was the last time you had seen him. It wasn’t like the two of you were on bad terms or anything. The break up had been civil - civil as a breakup can be, anyway. You and Brock had begun dating in your freshman year of college. One day, in the middle of you and Brock’s senior year, he sat you down and said he needed to talk to you. He said that you were great and he’d always have a special place in his heart for you, but he just couldn’t picture himself with you for the rest of his life - so there’s no point in wasting anymore time, as he had put it. To be honest, you didn’t disagree.

You had been unhappy towards the end of the relationship. You could tell that Brock was distancing himself and the two of you got in little fights almost every day. You knew it wasn’t going to work out, but it had still left a huge hole in your heart. Brock was a big part of your life every day for four years, then all of a sudden he was just gone. A big piece of you was missing and you had to rebuild it yourself. Turns out Brock rebuilt that piece with another girl. If he ever had a piece that needed rebuilding in the first place, that is. 

You really had wanted to stay friends with him after the breakup, or at least remain civil with him. He had never reached out after that day in the grocery store and you had no desire to reach out to him - you had healed yourself and decided you were better off without him. 

You sit on the couch running your fingers over the rough material, rereading the words over and over again, trying to make sense of it all. You really don’t care that Brock is getting married, it’s not like you want him back or anything. But, at the same time, you weren’t necessarily chomping at the bit to go watch him and his fiancee celebrate their special day. 

A vacation did sound nice, though. You’d always wanted to go to Hawaii. Plus, you figured some of you and Brock’s friends from college would be in attendance. The two of you had been in the same friend group when he asked you out. You lost touch with the friend group after the break up. You would see some of them in passing or in classes and share small talk, but you had stopped getting invitations to hang out with them. You weren’t one to hold a grudge, though, and it would be nice to see them again. 

You mull it over for a little while before deciding that it would be a good move on your part to go, show Brock that you were still on good terms with him and that him getting married doesn’t bother you. You could take a break from work and get some much-needed sun and relaxation. You RSVP and check no, you will not be bringing a plus one.  

The months leading up to the wedding follow the same, monotonous routine. Work, eat, sleep, repeat. Occasionally your coworkers would drag you out to the bar after work and you would go - desperate to feel some sort of belonging. Despite your efforts over the years, you had never gotten close with any of the girls at work. You got along with them okay, but you wouldn’t exactly call them your friends. Acquaintances was a more fitting term.

You do, however, have one best friend. The only issue is that she lives almost a thousand miles away. You had moved to New York for school and she had stayed back home in Illinois. You stay in contact with her and your family. Most days, talking to them makes you more homesick than anything else. You’d considered moving back more than once, but had ultimately decided against it each time - you’re scared to look like a failure. You don’t want to come running back home at the first signs of struggle. You want to prove to everyone back home that you can make it in the big city by yourself. 

As the days go by, you find yourself looking forward to the special day. Not because of the wedding, but because you’re ready to escape the numb hell that your life has become. The wedding is on a Friday. You’re flying in on Monday and leaving Sunday morning. Six nights at the tropical resort Brock and Marissa have picked. 

It’s the Sunday night before you leave. Your bags are packed and waiting by the door. Sleep comes easy, knowing that by this time tomorrow you’ll be drinking cocktailas at a pool-side bar, free from work stress and city traffic. Away from the city where you feel lonely among millions of people.

Usually when the ear-piercing, dread instilling sound of your alarm rings, you hit the snooze button and pull the covers tighter in attempt to hang on to your last moments of comfort and peace - or as close as you can get to that, these days. Today, however, is different. When you hear the all-too familiar noise coming from your phone, it leaves you with a feeling of excitement rather than depression. 

You sit up, smile on your face, and get ready for the day. After showering and putting on your comfiest plane clothes, you grab your bags and head outside. You hail a taxi and can’t even bring yourself to be upset when he doesn’t offer to help you with your luggage. You smile the whole way to the airport.

I repeat, flight DL4567 is delayed by two hours. Boarding will begin at 12:10.

The universe has found a way to put you in a bad mood again. You’re certain whatever higher power there is had sent this sudden thunderstorm just for you. You look at your phone to check the time - 9:45. You had been sitting here for an hour already. The hard chair is starting to get uncomfortable, so you decide to get your second cup of coffee for the morning. You stand and grab your luggage, making your way to the end of the Starbucks line. You order your go-to drink and some breakfast.

Once you get your coffee and food you find a little table to sit at and pull out your book. You find yourself enthralled in your book and the time flies. A voice over the loudspeaker breaks you out of your trance. 

Flight DL4567 now boarding. 

You snap your book shut and clean up your table. You grab your bags and head back to your gate. After waiting in line for a little while, you finally take your seat on the plane. You put in your earbuds and watch the grey clouds outside - thankful you got a window seat. By the time the plane starts moving, you’re smiling again and counting down the time until your arrival. 

You spend the first five hours of your flight reading and watching TV - you’re pleasantly surprised to see that they have your favorite show. Sometime after they serve lunch, you fall asleep. When you wake up, there’s only two hours left until arrival. 

You watch the fluffy clouds outside your window and find that time passes quickly when you think about all the things you want to do in Hawaii. You also find that the time passes impossibly slow when you let your mind drift to New York and all your responsibilities. How is it that you haven’t even landed in Hawaii yet and you’re already dreading returning back home?

You see the beaches and the luscious green that fill the ground beneath you. You take in all the sights as best you can as you get closer and closer to the ground, preparing for landing. Your ears hurt slightly from the pressure change, but you’ve got other things on your mind.

After waiting some more to get your luggage, you finally manage to get on a shuttle and you’re on your way to the resort. You watch the mountains in the distance and the palm trees on the drive. You’re listening to your playlist through your earbuds and this is the happiest you’ve felt in a while. You could get used to this, you think. 

Your jaw drops when you pull up to the hotel. The huge building is right on the beach. Sure, that’s what it had said online, but the real thing it’s even more staggering in person than it had been in the pictures. The sun beats down on you as soon as you step out of the shuttle, but there’s a nice breeze that makes it enjoyable. A worker hands you your bags from the back of the bus and you thank him. You roll them inside the resort, eyes widening even more when you see the inside of the place. You can’t wait to get your bags in your room and explore. 

The receptionist is nice as can be and tells you to enjoy your stay as she hands you your key cards - like you’ll be needing more than one. You wheel your luggage into the elevator and press the number five. You’re astonished by the view when you step into your room. Your balcony faces the beach and you can see mountains in the distance. The evening sun is still shining bright and there’s not a cloud in the sky. 

It’s just after seven o’clock by the time you’re done changing. You head down to the main floor and set off to explore. There’s a spa, an indoor and outdoor bar, a pool, a hot tub, a gym, and a restaurant. You decide to hit the outdoor bar and enjoy the last of the daylight. 

You slide into a barstool. The warmth of the sun and the refreshing sea-side breeze, along with a couple cocktails, quickly put you into a relaxed headspace. You’d been looking forward to this for so long and it’s definitely all you’d imagined it would be. 

The resort is pretty full, but not to the point where it gets on your nerves. The bar is occupied by a group of girls who look a little younger than you and some married couples.

You’re just finishing your second drink when something catches your attention - a loud, boisterous laugh coming from the other end of the bar. You lean forward to see a group of guys you hadn’t noticed before. The laugh comes from a man with chocolatey, smooth skin. He’s sitting with a gigantic blond man who is currently looking down at the bartop and shaking his head, a half smile on his face. The last man, though, is what makes you do a double take. 

He’s got dark, fluffy hair. Though his stubble tries to hide it, you notice his sharp jawline. His shoulders are broad and his biceps stretch the sleeve of his t-shirt. He’s smiling, pearly white teeth on display. You find that you’re still watching him as he brings a bottle of beer to his lips and takes a swig. 

You’re only snapped out of your trance when he looks in your direction. You quickly divert your eyes, but you aren’t quick enough. He catches your gaze for the briefest of seconds. You might be imagining things, but you swear you see the corner of his mouth curl up into a smile before he looks back to his friends - still laughing and yelling about something.

The sun has finally set and you decide on having one more of the fun, tropical drinks before heading up to your room. 

You prepare to flag down the bartender, surprised when you find him already stopping in front of you, one of the cocktails you’d been drinking in hand. 

“Courtesy of the gentleman at the other end of the bar.”

You quickly thank the bartender and look back to the other end of the bar where the group of guys had been sitting. They’re the only men sitting at that end of the bar.

The brunette is already looking at you. He gives you a million dollar smile and shoots you a wink before he turns, following his friends back into the hotel.

You sit in shock for a solid minute, replaying the wink over and over in your mind. Sure you’ve got a solid buzz and you haven’t been laid in a long time, but even if that wasn’t the case, you’re sure it would’ve been just as sexy. You’re only slightly ashamed of the small amount of wetness you feel in your panties.

You down the free drink and head back into the hotel. On your way to the elevator, you notice the man that’s been occupying your thoughts for the last 30 or so minutes standing at the reception desk. His hair is wet and his clothes are soaking through. 

You quickly make your way to the elevator and repeatedly press the up arrow. You’re not sure where the sudden embarrassment is coming from, but your cheeks are red and you don’t want him to see you right now. 

Unfortunately for you, you hear footsteps behind you and turn to find the same piercing blue eyes you had met across the bar staring back at you. 

“Friends stole all the towels out of my room,” he tells you, holding up a stack of fresh ones.

Well that explains why he was at the reception desk, also why he’s soaking wet. 

“Oh,” you manage a small chuckle as you look down at your feet. 

You can’t help but feel embarrassed when he’s looking at you so intently, like you’re the only thing on his mind right now. It doesn’t help that he’s one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen and he’s talking to you of all people. 

You force yourself to meet his eyes again, “Thank you, um, for the drink earlier,” you manage in a somewhat steady voice. 

 “Course, doll,” another smile. 

The elevator doors finally open and he extends his arm, “After you.”

He follows you into the elevator and presses the number five. 

“What floor are you on?” he turns, waiting for your response.

“Same as you, apparently,” you smile up at him. 

You weren’t close enough to tell before, but he’s tall. At least six feet. 

“I’m Bucky, by the way. Sorry ‘bout leaving before I could introduce myself earlier, but my friends were being a pain in the ass - pardon my language.”

You tell him your own name and he holds out his hand. You put your hand in his and expect him to shake it, but what he does next surprises you.

He gently raises your hand to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he rolls your name off his tongue, still holding your hand.

You try your best not to make it obvious that you’re swooning over this man. Heat returns to your core at the feeling of his rough hand engulfing yours. 

The elevator bell dings, letting you know you’ve reached your floor. Bucky carefully drops your hand as the doors open. The two of you step out of the elevator and he stops.

“I’ll be seeing you around,” he says, holding eye contact with you.

“I hope so,” your buzz encourages you. 

You smile at each other and when he turns to head to his room, you do the same. 

“Goodnight, doll,” he shouts over his shoulder before disappearing into his room.

You can’t keep the smile off of your face the rest of the night. You’re in fucking Hawaii. A man straight out of your fantasies had bought you a drink, and he plans on seeing you around. You know it’s too soon to be thinking this, but maybe you’ll find a more unconventional way to relieve stress this week. 

After you wake up and get dressed for the day, you head down to get breakfast from the buffet. You load your plate and find a table. You’re in the middle of chewing a bite of waffle when you see Brock. Him and a woman, you assume it’s Marissa, are grabbing plates and getting into the breakfast line. 

Brock doesn’t notice you until after him and the woman have gotten their own food. You watch him as he scans the room for a table, his eyes eventually landing on you. 

He calls out your name and leans down to tell the woman something. 

“So glad you’re here! Are these seats taken?” he asks, not waiting for a response as he sits down, leaving the woman to follow. 

“Go ahead,” you say. You’re somewhat glad to have some company, even if it’s a little awkward.

“This is my fiancée, Marissa.”

“So nice to meet you,” she offers her hand and you shake it. 

Breakfast is filled with awkward conversation. You and Brock catch up a little bit, telling each other what you’re up to these days. After a few minutes, Brock pulls out his phone and doesn’t put it away for the rest of the meal. You talk to Marissa about the wedding planning and do your best to seem interested as she talks about flower arrangements for ten minutes. 

Eventually, conversation lulls and you take the opportunity to get up. 

“So nice catching up with you, Brock. And nice to meet you Marissa!” you say, heading to your room.

You decide on heading to the pool today and change into your bikini. It’s a black set that shows off your body without being too skimpy. You throw some clothes over it and grab your book before stepping out of your room. 

Before you reach the elevator, you hear your name being called. You turn and see Bucky standing by his door.

“Where are you headed to?” 

“I’m gonna go lay by the pool for a bit, wanna join me?” you answer, not sure where your courage is coming from.

Bucky grins as he responds, “Nothing else I’d rather do.”

You feel your face heat up.

“Lemme put some trunks on and I’ll meet you down there?”

“Sounds great, Bucky,” you nod at him before slipping into the elevator.

Once at the pool, you grab two towels. By some miracle, you manage to find two empty lounge chairs together. You set your things down and lay the towels over the chairs. You strip out of your clothes, leaving you clad in only the bikini, and apply sunscreen before laying down. You put your earbuds in and close your eyes and bask in the sun. 

Maybe it's the sunshine, maybe it’s the fresh ocean air, or maybe it’s something else entirely, but you’re feeling the happiest you’ve been in a long time. You notice that instead of your usual RBF, you've been smiling almost constantly since your arrival.

When you open your eyes, you see Bucky standing a few feet away from you, steel blue eyes raking up and down your body. 

“Oh, Bucky,” you pause your music, blush returning to your cheeks, “how long have you been standing there?”

“Shit,” he says your name, realizing he’d been caught staring, “I swear I just got here like ten seconds ago. I’m so sorry. Feel free to revoke my invitation because I was being a creep,” he grimaces, expecting you to be mad at him.

The way he looked at you was different than the way most men would look at you in a bikini, though. It wasn’t gross or pervy. It looked like he was genuinely just appreciating your body, rather than plotting how to get you into his bed. And he didn't make any disgusting comments or cat call you like other guys have in the past. Besides, you'd be lying if you said you didn’t get a boost of confidence from the way he looked at you.  

“Hmm,” you put your finger on your chin, pretending to mull it over, “I’ll let you sit down, but only if you buy me another drink first.”

That familiar grin spreads across his face again. 

“You got yourself a deal. You want another one of those gross cocktails you were drinking last night?”

“Um, excuse you, Mr. I’m too manly to drink cocktails, but I’ll have you know those were delicious.”

He chuckles and promises to be back shortly before walking toward the bar. 

You play your music and wait for him to return. After a couple minutes, he returns holding a colorful, fruit filled cocktail and a beer bottle.

Bucky takes his seat next to you, beer bottle in hand. He lets out a sigh of relief as he lays back in his chair. 

“So, not to be rude, but is Bucky your real name?”

“My full name is James Buchanan Barnes, if you must know. All my friends and family call me Bucky.” 

You nod and take a sip of your drink. 

“Man, it’s hot,” Bucky takes a drink from his bottle before setting it down and reaching down to grab the bottom of his shirt. You find it’s your turn to stare as he pulls it over his head, exposing tan skin and rippling muscle. Bucky gives you a cocky smirk when he notices you staring with your drink frozen midair, on its way to your mouth. 

You quickly avert your eyes and feel the familiar dusting of pink return to your cheeks. 

“Like what you see, doll?”

You simply shake your head at his teasing and smile, flustered as can be.

“So what do you do for work, Bucky?”

“Well I was in the army until a couple years ago. Now I’m a mechanic, I got my own shop with my buddies.” 

You make a mental note to thank the army for mandating PT as you watch a drop of sweat roll down Bucky’s washboard abs.  

“Is that who you’re here with?”

“Yeah. Me and Steve have known each other since we were little, actually. We met Sam when we joined up and after we all got out we opened up shop together,” a reminiscent smile plays upon his lips. “Those two knuckleheads are basically family. We decided to take a trip to celebrate the shop’s one year anniversary.”

“Speaking of family, do you have any?”

“My, uh,” his brows furrow, “my dad died when I was little, but I have a mom and a sister who’s a little younger than me. About your age, probably.” 

His expression returns to normal in a split second, “Enough about me. Do you have family?”

“Yeah, but I moved away for college and never went back home.”

“Where’s home?”

“Ohio. I live in New York now.”

Bucky seems almost excited at this bit of information. 

“Is that so?” he raises an eyebrow. “I live in Brooklyn.”

“Me too,” you share a smile.

Needing a break from the sweltering sun, you stand and grab your drink. 

“I'm getting in the pool, care to join?”

Bucky wordlessly stands and follows you to the pool, smiling. You walk down the steps, drink in hand. Bucky, however, stops at the edge of the pool and watches you. 

“You coming in or what?”

“In a minute, doll.”

Surprisingly, the pool isn’t that crowded. It’s huge, so the people that are in the pool are able to spread out and stay out of each other’s way. 

It’s only once you’re standing in the pool, water up to your bikini top, that Bucky decides to enter. 

Via cannonball. 

You register what he’s about to do as he jumps in the air and wraps his hands around his knees and you yell at him, Barnes don’t you dare! but it’s too late. Next thing you know, you’re drenched. Your hair and face are soaked and there’s pool water in your drink.

Bucky emerges from under the water, smirk dancing across his lips. His expression falters for a second when he notices your angry expression, but you can’t keep the smile from your face when he shakes his hair out like a wet dog. 

“You ruined my drink.”

“I’ll buy you another,” he says, taking the drink out of your hands and setting it on the edge of the pool. 

He walks closer and closer to you until you’re just inches apart. He tentatively moves his hands under the water until they’re resting on your bare hips. His grip is soft, barely there. He’s giving you a chance to reject his touch, but all you do is gently move into his hands. 

His grip becomes more firm and his eyes light up with a glint of mischief. Before you know what hit you, you’re being lifted out of the water, Bucky’s muscles flexing as he raises you up. Before you have a chance to stop him - as if you’d stand any chance against his nearly super human physique - he launches you back into the water. 

When you emerge from the water, you see Bucky nearly doubled over laughing at the angry expression on your face. You really do try your best to be mad at him, but his shimmering smile and the crinkles in the corners of his eyes makes it hard. 

“What. The. Hell,” you make your way back to him and move to smack his chest. Bucky has quick reflexes, though, and you find that your hand is trapped between one of his own and his muscular pec. 

“That was revenge for the way you’ve been staring at me all morning when I’m unable to do anything about it.”

You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at his flirty words in an effort to keep up your mad facade.

“What if I drowned Bucky?” you deadpan.

“Wouldn’t let that happen,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“Well, you’re still a jerk.”

“A jerk who’s talking to the prettiest girl in this resort,” he counters with a shit-eating grin.

Bucky drops his hand and, instead of moving yours away, you wrap both your arms around the back of his neck. 

“Not for much longer if you pull another stunt like that, Barnes.”

“Sorry, doll,” the amused grin he’s still sporting makes you doubt his apology.

His hands return to your hips and he pulls you closer. He’s a fair bit taller than you and you have to tilt your head up to look at him. The sun is reflected in his ocean blue eyes and water drips down his face, getting caught in the scruff spanning his jaw. 

Bucky leans down and lifts one of his hands to gently grab your chin between two long fingers. He softly directs you toward his own face. You can’t stop your eyes from flicking down to his pink, pillowy lips. You close the rest of the distance on your own. 

Bucky is quick to kiss you back after your lips meet his. He caresses your lips with his own and he moves his hand to the back of your neck, pressing you against him harder. He swipes his tongue across your lips and you part them for him. You let out a small moan into his mouth and he gently takes your bottom lip between his teeth.

He pulls away, letting your lip free. You feel a throb in between your legs when he gives your neck a quick squeeze before letting his hand fall back to his own person. 

“Fuck, doll. Don’t make me throw you into the water again.” He waits until he thinks you’re not looking before reaching down to adjust his swim trunks.

“You started it,” you reply as you make your way to the steps and climb out of the pool. “I need another drink,” you make sure to sway your hips as you walk back toward the bar, not needing to look back to know he’s watching. 

You lean against the bar and are waiting to be helped when you suddenly feel a hand on your hip. You turn around and expect to see Bucky, only to be met with the sight of a man you’ve never seen before.

“Can I help you?” you remove the man’s hand from you.

“Nice bikini, baby. Lemme buy you a drink,” the slur in his words and his unsteady stance letting you know that he’s certainly not sober.

“No, thanks,” you turn back to the bar, making it clear you’re not interested. 

The man either doesn’t get the hint or decides to keep trying anyway, because you feel both his hands land on your hips this time. He steps closer to you, his chest pressed up against your back.

Just as you’re preparing to throw an elbow into the man’s ribs, you feel his hands being ripped off of you. You turn around to see the man falling to the ground, Bucky standing over him. 

“Get up,” Bucky demands, looking down.

The man, surprisingly, manages to get back on his feet and gives Bucky a death glare. Before he has a chance to give Bucky a piece of his mind, as you’re sure he was about to, Bucky grabs him by the collar of his shirt and leans into the man’s ear. He says something too quiet for you to hear and emphasizes it by using his grip on the man’s shirt to shake him. A few people around you are starting to stare.

The man’s face goes slack and he nods in response to whatever Bucky had said. Bucky shoves the man away and he nearly falls to the ground again. Bucky stares him down as he turns and walks away. Once he’s sure the man isn’t coming back, he returns his attention to you. Thankfully, everyone’s attention seems to be back to whatever they were doing before the commotion.

“You okay, doll? I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s not your fault, Bucky,” you give him a half smile to let him know you’re okay, just sick of men thinking they have a right to touch you. “I’m okay.”

“You still want another drink? Told you I’d buy it,” he goes to flag down the bartender. 

You gently rest your hand on his bicep and he looks at you “Thank you, Buck,” you hope your genuine expression conveys that you’re not just thanking him for the drink.

He gives you a curt nod, “Don’t mention it. Just trying to be a gentleman.”

A few minutes later, armed with another round of drinks, you and Bucky are making your way back to the lounge chairs.

“So where are your friends today?” you inquire.

“Finally got those punks outta my hair for a little while. They went to hike up some mountain. Or maybe it was a volcano, I really don’t know.”

“You didn’t want to go with them?”

“I-uh,” he rubs a hand across the back of his neck, “let’s just say heights aren’t really my thing,” an adorable redness spreads across his face.

You nod, deciding to spare him any further embarrassment from teasing. The two of you sit down on the sides of your chairs, facing each other. 

“So why are you here?”

You figured the question would arise eventually, but you had been dreading telling him the reason. It just sounds embarrassing to admit that you’re attending your ex’s wedding. 

“I’m actually here for a wedding.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s getting married? Not you, I hope,” Bucky chuckles at his own joke but stops when you don’t so much as crack a smile. His face drops and he stares at you for a second before you notice his expression.

“No. God- no. I’m not engaged, Bucky. Very much single. It’s my ex’s wedding.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “Oh, wow,” you can tell he’s unsure how to respond.

“I’ve hardly talked to him since the breakup a few years ago. We’re on good terms, though. Actually ate breakfast with him and his fiancee this morning.”

“Well that’s good, I guess. That you’re on good terms, I mean. Why did you choose to come? Sorry if I’m being nosy, you dont have to answer.” “No, it’s fine. It’s a little weird, I get it. For the most part, it was a good excuse to take a vacation and hopefully see some old friends. It’s not like I still have feelings for Brock or anything, so I really couldn’t care less that he’s getting married. His fiancee seems nice enough. And things went okay this morning, so I’m hopeful that things won’t be too awkward at the wedding. Plus there’ll be an open bar at the reception,” you crack a smile.

Bucky listens and nods along. “Well I hope everything goes okay. I’m certainly not complaining that you’re here,” he gives you a soft smile.

Sunbathing next to Bucky and sharing laughter-filled conversation leaves you with such a serene feeling that you physically feel lighter and your mind feels clearer. You decide in that moment that this vacation was definitely worth it, you can feel your mental health improving by the hour.

At one point, you doze off and are woken to Bucky’s hand gently shaking your shoulder. You open your eyes and see him leaning over you, radiant smile on his face. 

“Probably shouldn’t stay out here too long or you’ll burn to a crisp.”

You sit up and nod, “Good point.”

You and Bucky get dressed and gather your things before depositing your towels in the proper bin and heading inside the hotel. Once you and Bucky reach your floor, you stand and shuffle your feet, unsure of what to do next. Bucky sets a hand on your arm and you look up at him. 

“My friends and I are going out to dinner tonight and, I’m sorry if this seems weird, but would you want to come with us? You don’t have to say yes, just thought I’d throw it out there,” he has a nervous look on his face and he chews on his lip while he waits for an answer.

You couldn’t be more thrilled at the fact that he still wants to spend more time with you, even though you’d been together a large chunk of the day already. You want to say yes, both because you have no other plans and because you’d love to spend more time with the man in front of you, but you don’t want to seem overly eager. 

“Yeah, I’d like that. Only if you’re sure your friends won’t mind, that is.”

Bucky looks almost relieved and gives you a boyish grin. “Nah, Steve and Sam will be fine. I’m sure you guys will get along great.”

“Okay, Buck, looking forward to it.”

“Can’t wait, doll. I’ll meet you here at seven.”

Bucky seems to hesitate for a moment, but then leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips, which you happily return. He pulls back and heads off to his room.

“See you tonight, sweetheart.”

You decide you have a bit of time before you need to start getting ready for dinner, so you grab your book and sit out on the balcony. You find that you have a hard time focusing on the words in front of you, though. The ocean waves and palm trees blowing in the breeze paired with the distant sounds of laughter and music coming from below makes for a pleasant distraction. Before you know it, it’s 6:45 and you scramble to get back inside and start getting dressed. 

It isn’t until you’re searching through your clothes that you realize you don’t know where you’re going for dinner or how to dress. You only packed three dresses, a sundress, the dress you’re wearing to the wedding, and the one you decide on for tonight.

The black dress comes down to your knees with a slit up the thigh. It’s tight and shows off your curves. The back is open, with straps crossing in the center of your shoulder blades. The cut in the front is low enough that it shows off your cleavage while maintaining a classy enough appearance. 

You decide to dress it up with heels - also black. They’re only a couple inches tall, so you can still walk in them somewhat comfortably. You’re thankful that you packed a decent selection of jewelry and throw on some silver earrings and a necklace.

You take a quick look at yourself in the mirror and can’t help but smile - damn you look good. You grab your clutch and open your door. You nearly walk into Bucky as you step into the hallway. 

Bucky is wearing tight grey dress pants with a snug-fitting short sleeve black button up. The first few buttons of his shirt are undone, giving you a peek of the toned chest hiding beneath. He’s paired the outfit with a black belt and matching shoes. He speaks before you have a chance to compliment him.

“Doll,” he looks you up and down, eyes wide, “wow. You look gorgeous.”

You feel yourself flush as you thank him. 

“You look really good too, Buck. Where’s Steve and Sam?”

“I told them to wait downstairs for us. Wanted to prepare you for them. They can be a bit,” he pauses, searching for the right word, “much, sometimes. I told them to be on their best behavior tonight. They just have a way of embarrassing people, Sam especially. I’m sure they’ll be teasing me nonstop, so just ignore anything they say.”

You chuckle lightly, “Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

You and Bucky step into the elevator and take turns sneaking glaces at each other. Just before you reach the ground floor, Bucky leans over you, effectively trapping you between him and the elevator wall. Even in your heels, he has to lean down to be eye level with you. “I mean it, doll, you look stunning,” his eyes search yours, “Can I kiss you?”

You respond by closing the distance between the two of you. He reaches up and places a hand on the back of your head, holding you to him. The feel of his soft lips on yours makes you forget where you are. All too soon, the elevator door is opening and before you and Bucky have a chance to break away from each other, you hear a whistle.

“Damn, Barnes! Moving quick!” 

Bucky quickly steps away from you but stays in front of you, shielding you while you take a second to collect yourself. 

“Shut it, Sam,” Bucky says sternly. You don’t miss the red that creeps up the back of his neck. Nor do you miss how his tight pants do wonders for his ass.

After a second you step out from behind Bucky and extend a hand to the man, deciding to play it off.

“So you must be Sam,” you introduce yourself as he shakes your hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve responds when you shake his hand.

Steve and Sam lead the way out of the resort and you trail behind with Bucky. 

“We heard about this place some locals recommended that’s supposed to be really good. We’re gonna take a taxi there. That okay with you?”

“Sounds great,” you smile up at him.

The four of you wait in front of the resort for the taxi. 

“So,” Steve says your name, “you really spent all day with Bucky and he hasn’t made a fool of himself yet?”

“Whoa whoa whoa, I never said that. He’s lucky I’m even here right not after he threw me into the pool earlier. Although he did almost get into a fist fight defending me, so I guess it cancels out.”

Sam gives Bucky a grin, “Attaboy.”

“When me and Buck were younger, I used to get myself into all kinds of trouble and Bucky would have to end up kicking some dude’s ass for me almost daily,” Steve reminisces.

Bucky huffs and nods his head, “Punk dragged me into all kinds of trouble. Believe it or not, he wasn’t always this big. Needed to help him out or he woulda ended up bleeding out in an alley somewhere in Brooklyn.”

Steve’s cheeks heat up, but you have trouble picturing the man in front of you as anything other than he is now - huge and intimidating. 

After a couple minutes of getting to know Steve and Sam a little bit, the taxi arrives. It’s a five seater car, Steve sits in the front with the driver and you, Bucky, and Sam climb into the back. Bucky sits in between you and Sam. The car is plenty roomy enough, but Bucky makes sure to sit close enough that his thigh is pressed up against yours. The drive is short and Steve pays the driver when you arrive. Everyone gets out of the car. Bucky offers you his elbow and you link your arm in his. He leads the four of you into the building.

“Hi, we have a reservation for Barnes.”

The hostess leads you out back to the outdoor seating and your jaw drops. The palm tree surrounded patio is right on the beach and you have a perfect view of the sun setting on the water. Fairy lights and tiki torches give the place a soft glow. A live band plays soft Hawaiian music on a stage. 

Once you reach your table, the hostess sets down menus and silverware, before heading back inside. Bucky unlinks his arm from yours and he pulls out a chair for you. Before you sit, you turn to him.

“Bucky, this place is beautiful.”

“Glad you like it, darling.”

You sit and Bucky takes the seat next to you. By the time you snap out of your awestruck trance, Sam and Steve are both holding menus and arguing about something. You go to pick up a menu and notice Bucky’s eyes trained on you. He gives you a smile before looking down at his own menu. 

The waitress comes to take drink orders and the three men all order whiskey. You decide to get something other than a fruity cocktail.

“I’ll have the same,” you say when the server looks to you. 

You notice the way all three of their eyebrows jump at your choice. The waitress leaves and Bucky gently sets a hand just above your knee. He turns to look at you, as if asking for permission and you give him a reassuring smile. Conversation flows and when the waitress returns with the drinks, Sam and Steve immediately take a sip of theirs. Bucky’s eyes fall on you as you raise the glass to your lips. You keep eye contact with him as you take a drink, holding a straight face. You see of flash of something dark flash in his eyes and he moves his hand higher up your thigh and gives it a firm squeeze. 

You continue to read the menu and decide on seafood - you have to, you’re in Hawaii - and so does everyone else at the table. It is the restaurant’s specialty, after all. By the time the waitress comes to take your order, the four of you are all getting along great.

“So you guys all work on cars, huh?” 

“And bikes,” Sam nods at you.

“Do you guys all have motorcycles?” you glance around the table.

“Yeah, we do,” Bucky confirms.

You can easily picture him leather-clad, thick thighs straddling a Harley and his hand resting on the throttle. The thought makes you clench your thighs together and, based on the way Bucky’s thumb begins to rub circles into your thigh and he smirks at you, you assume he notices. 

“So what do you have planned for the rest of the week?” Steve questions you, oblivious to Bucky’s hand on you underneath the table.

“Well I’m going snorkeling tomorrow. I also want to hit the beach, maybe take a surf lesson. Horseback riding and hiking sounds fun too, though. What all have you guys done?”

“Well,” Sam starts, “we just got in yesterday, so we haven’t really done much yet.”

“Oh, so you guys got here the same day I did, then. When are you guys leaving?”

“Saturday, how about you?” Bucky answers you. 

“Sunday morning.”

“I’m sure you’ll be sick of Bucky by then,” Sam chortles.

Thinking about spending the rest of the week with Bucky puts a smile on your face and you hope he wants to spend more time with you, too. Eventually, the food comes and you all dig in. It’s so delicious that you’re not even mad about how expensive it was. Bucky lets out a groan of delight as he takes his first bite. 

“This is so good, doll. You want to try?” 

You nod and he raises his fork to your lips. He feeds you a bite of his food and you agree, it is delicious. You pull your attention away from Bucky just in time to see Sam whispering something into Steve’s ear, to which Steve chortles and nods.

“What are you guys talking about?” Bucky returns his attention to his friends.

“Nothing, man,” Steve dismisses him.

Bucky shoots them a warning look but drops it. 

The rest of the meal is filled with stories from their time in the army and Steve informs you that Bucky was a sergeant. You’re thankful that they don’t pressure you with too many questions about your boring life back in the city. The conversation flows easy and after a couple more rounds of drinks, the four of you are laughing so hard that you’re drawing attention from other tables. When everyone finishes eating, you excuse yourself to the bathroom and find your waitress. You give her your credit card, insisting that she charges the bill to your card.

You’d been having a great time with Bucky and his friends so far and you wanted to thank them for inviting you to have dinner with them. They had been so welcoming to you and have made your trip less lonely, even if only for one night. You return to the table.

When the waitress comes back to your table, she returns your credit card to you and the three men share a confused look.

Bucky cocks his head at you, “Did you pay for yourself already, doll? I was going to.”

“She actually covered the whole table,” the server informs them before leaving.

“Wait, what? You paid for us all?” Steve asks in disbelief.

Sam looks to you, waiting for an answer. Bucky just looks at you, brows furrowed. 

“Yeah. I just wanted to thank you guys for being so inviting. I enjoyed hanging out with you all tonight,” you look down at the table, feeling almost as if you’d done something wrong. 

Sam says your name, “That was really unnecessary, but thank you. We enjoyed your company. We get sick of each other, it was nice to have you join us. I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah,” Steve concurs, “I’m glad you could come. You really didn’t have to do that, but thank you, sincerely.”

“It’s not a big deal, guys. It was no problem.”

You turn to look at Bucky. He’s still in the same position - eyes trained on you and brows furrowed. You worry you’ve done something wrong and gently reach between the two of you and take his hand in yours. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and finally speaks. 

“Thank you,” you can tell there’s more he wants to say, though. Your group stands and heads to the front to wait for another taxi. After you step out the front doors, Bucky softly grabs your arm, holding you back. Steve and Sam continue walking. 

“Thank you for paying, I really appreciate the gesture. But I invited you tonight because I enjoy spending time with you and I wanted you to meet my friends. You shouldn’t have had to pay for your own dinner tonight, let alone everyone else’s. I do appreciate it, though, and I know Steve and Sam did too,” he gives you a sincere look and you sheepishly look down at the ground. He lifts his hand to cup your face and tilts it up to him, forcing you to make eye contact. “But all that being said, don’t you dare try and pull that again,” he says in a more authoritative tone.

You feel a wetness forming in your panties at the soft yet demanding tone he uses. You’re too shocked at the sudden dominance that you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod up at him. 

“Good girl,” he praises in a low voice.

“You guys coming or what?” you hear Sam’s voice call.

You hadn’t even realized that taxi had arrived. Bucky leans down and presses a kiss to your lips before leading you to the car with a hand on the small of your back. Bucky sits inbetween you and Sam again and rests a hand on your thigh, dangerously close to slipping underneath the hem of your dress that had ridden halfway up your thighs. All you can focus on the whole car ride back to the resort is the feel of Bucky’s calloused hands on your leg and the pulsing at the apex of your thighs.

After what feels like hours, the cars pulls to a stop in front of the resort and you step out of car, followed by Bucky, who places his hand back on you immediately after he gets out. Steve and Sam make conversation, Bucky occasionally making a noncommittal grunt in response. After the elevator brings all of you to the fifth floor, Steve and Sam say goodnight and thank you again for dinner. You don’t miss the way Bucky’s hand tightens around your hip when they mention you paying for dinner. You say goodnight to them and they look at Bucky, probably expecting him to say goodnight and follow them back to their rooms. 

You’re not quite sure what you expect Bucky to do, but all you know is that the tension is thicker than Bucky’s biceps that are currently straining against his shirt sleeves.

“I’ll catch up with you guys in a little bit,” he tells his friends without taking his eyes off you.

“Okayyy,” Steve drags out the word as him and Sam turn and walk away, muttering and laughing to themselves.

Once you and Bucky are alone in the hall, he gently backs you up against the wall. He leaves one hand on your hips and tangles the other in your hair. He pulls you into a kiss that you fervently reciprocate. You’re sure that your panties are soaked at this point. You clench your thighs together, desperate for some friction. Bucky spreads your legs with his knee and slots his thigh against your center, forcing your dress to rise up. You moan into his mouth at the relief and buck your hips into him, your drenched underwear are dragging across his pants and you’re sure they’ll leave a dark spot from your arousal. 

Bucky pulls away from the kiss, but pushes his thigh harder against you. He leans down to whisper in your ear. “Dirty fuckin’ girl,” his voice is filled with lust, “Rutting up against my thigh in the middle of the hallway, skirt up so anyone can see how soaked your panties are for me.”

You whimper into Bucky’s ear. It turns you on to hear such filthy things coming from his usually polite mouth.

“Please, Bucky,” you beg, desparate for release.

“Please what, babydoll? Tell me what you need,” he demands.

He presses his bulge into your stomach and you can’t string together a sentence.

“I know, honey. You just wanna come, huh?” he looks down at you with a pitying expression and you nod your head so hard you get dizzy, too fuzzy-headed to care how desperate you look. He chuckles at you, “Say it. Tell me you need me to take care of you.”

“Please, Bucky! Make me come, take care of me. Just do something, please!” you sound absolutely wrecked and the groan Bucky lets out while he rocks his hips into you lets you know he gets off on it. 

“Fuck. Unlock your door, princess,” he tells you, pulling away and waiting by your door.

You’re surprised at how quickly you manage to dig you key card out of your purse and open the door in your aroused state. As soon as the door is open, Bucky grabs you and spins you around to face him.

“Jump,” he orders.

You drop throw your purse onto the table and wrap your arms around Bucky’s neck before jumping. He catches you by the backs of your thighs and effortlessly carries you to the bed, peppering kisses along your face and neck the whole way.

He throws you onto the bed and pulls off your shoes, placing a kiss to each of your shins. He then flips you onto your stomach and unties your dress. The way he manhandles you so easily sends a fresh gush of arousal to your core. He helps you shimmy out of your dress as he kicks off his shoes. You’re left in only your panties and he takes in the sight of your practically naked body and groans. He uses one hand to undo his belt and uses the other to reach down and palm your breast. 

“Goddamn, babydoll. No bra?” 

You don’t have the mental capacity to explain that you wouldn’t have been able to wear one with the open back dress, settling instead for reaching up and pulling him down by his collar until he’s straddling your hips. He leans back and unbuttons his shirt, exposing his broad chest and defined abs one button at a time, throwing it to the floor when he’s done. He has a dark trail of hair leading down into his dress pants where you can see the large outline of his hardened cock. He leans down atop of you, veiny forearms resting on either side of your head. 

He snakes a hand down between the two of you and dips his fingers in the waistband. “Can I take these off, babydoll?”

You nod and reach to his neck, trying to pull him down for a kiss. Much to your dismay, he doesn’t budge. 

“Need words, honey.”

“Yes Bucky, please.”

“Good girl,” he rewards you by leaning down and pressing his lips to yours.

His hand makes its way beneath your panties and he runs a finger through your abundant wetness, dragging it up to your clit. He uses your slick to rub circles into the sensitive bud. He pulls away from the kiss and you try to chase his mouth. He stops you by holding your head to the mattress with a hand on your jaw. He squeezes your cheeks until your mouth opens. He looks down at you and spits directly into your mouth.

“Swallow for me, baby.”

You follow his order without a second thought. Once you swallow, he brings his hand down to your neck. He rewards you by bringing a finger to your entrance and slowly pushing into your tight hole. 

“Fuck, doll. I wanna be in this perfect little pussy. Do you want that? Want me to fill you up with my big cock? Wanna feel me deep inside you?”

“Yes, Bucky! Fu- I want it so-fuck so bad.”

He quickly adds a second finger and begins pumping them inside you at a brutal pace. His hand on your throat tightens ever so slightly and he watches your face to gauge your reaction. When your eyes roll back into your head and your pussy clamps down on his fingers, he grins and tightens his grip a little more.

The lack of blood flow to your head makes you feel fuzzy in the best way. You feel yourself getting close to your orgasm. Bucky keeps his pace as he fucks you on his fingers and keeps a careful eye on you, watching for the telltale signals of your climax. When he sees you squeeze your eyes shut and feels your pussy clench, he pulls his hand out altogether. 

You look up at Bucky and loosens his grip on your neck, but keeps his hand resting there. You buck your hips up, your orgasm fading away rapidly. Bucky uses one hand to pin your hips to the bed.

“Bucky, no,” you whine, “I was so close.”

“I know, doll,” he gives you a mischievous smirk. “You were a bad girl earlier when you paid for dinner. You’re supposed to let me treat you. Let me take care of you. You wouldn’t let me take care of you then, so I’m not sure I should take care of you now.”

“Bucky please,” you beg, “Won’t do it again, promise. Just-nngh just take care of me please. Need you to make me come,” you hope your pleading is enough to convince him.

Bucky lets out a deep groan and smashes his lips against yours. He makes his way down your torso, stopping to pay special attention to your nipples. He ever so softly bites down on your nipple and you thread your fingers through his hair. He continues to trail kisses down your stomach. When he reaches your panties, he places wet kisses against the soaked fabric. You try to buck up into his mouth, but his hand is still pinning you down.

Finally, he reaches into the waistband of your panties and you raise your hips, allowing him to pull them down your legs and throw them on the floor with your dress. You get another glimpse of the rock-hard bulge in his dress pants and you know that can’t be comfortable for him, but his attention is all on you right now. He makes himself comfortable between your legs and uses his hands to spread your pussy apart, getting a good look at it.

“Fucking perfect. Prettiest damn pussy I’ve ever seen, baby.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, his lips are on you. He sucks your clit into his mouth and flicks at it with his tongue. You grab onto his hair with one hand and grab the sheets with the other. The screams you let out are almost pornographic. He alternates between licking your arousal up from where it’s seeping out of your hole and giving your sensitive clit attention. In an embarrassingly short amount of time, you feel yourself returning to the edge of the orgasm you’d just been denied. 

He laps at your core and uses both hands to hold your hips down onto the bed. When your heavy breathing and the movement of your hips give away your oncoming orgasm, he pulls away again. 

“NOO,” you practically scream, on the verge of tears. “Bucky,” you sob. 

“That one was for giving me a hard on at dinner when you downed that whiskey.”

Before you have a chance to complain anymore, he places one last kiss on your clit and stands from the bed. You watch as he undoes his pants and they pool at his ankles. You can see a wet spot on his boxers where he’d been leaking precum. He drops those too and you’re met with the sight of him. His cock bobs up against his stomach.

He’s thick and long, with a patch of dark curly hair at his base. The tip is pink and shiny with his arousal. Your mouth waters at the sight and you want nothing more than to lick it off, but he crawls back onto the bed before you can make any move to do so. He hovers over you and you can feel the weight of his cock resting on your lower stomach. 

“You want this, honey? Want to come all over my cock? Want me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk in the morning?” he ruts against your stomach, waiting for a response.

“Please, Bucky. ‘S all I want. Ah- fuck. Need it so bad. I need to come.”

“I got you, sweet girl,” he gives you a reassuring look as he grabs his base and guides himself to your drenched core.

He pushes his fat tip into you, watching your face for any signs of pain. You’re so wet and aroused that he almost slides right in. You try to push your hips down, desparate to feel him deeper. He’s quick to pin you down again. 

“Greedy girl.”

He eases himself into you at his own pace until his hips are flush against yours. You feel his pubic hair rubbing at your clit and begin to claw at his back, needing him to move.

“Fuck me, Bucky. Ah- god damn it,” you look up at him with pleading eyes, “Need you to move, baby.”

For the first time tonight, he listens to one of your demands. He slowly pulls all the way out, letting you feel every inch of his cock before he slams back in so hard it pushes you up the mattress. He braces himself with one arm on the bed and holds your hip with his other hand and sets a brutal pace. He thrusts deep and hard, tip pounding against your cervix with every punishing thrust. He moves the hand on your hip to rub at your clit.

“I’m not gonna last long baby. Fuck- be ah- be a good girl and come for me.”

You’re not far off and when he hits that spongy spot inside of you, you let out a scream. 

“Fuck, right there!” you pant.

He rubs at your clit and thrusts into your g-spot. You feel yourself hurdling toward your orgasm for the third time tonight. Except this time, when you clamp down around Bucky’s cock, he redoubles his efforts instead of stopping. You see stars when you reach your peak and you drag your nails down Bucky’s back. 

“Such a good girl for me, fuck. Where-ah where do you want me baby?”

“Inside, Bucky, please,” you want to know what it feels like to be full of his cum. “I’m on the pill.”

“Fuck, doll. So fucking good for me. My girl’s so good.”

You don’t miss the way he calls you his girl. And you certainly don’t mind it.

Bucky’s thrusts become shallow and his pace falters. He slams into you one last time and buries himself as deep as he can before shooting hot ropes of his seed into you. Once he empties his balls into you, he leans down, bracing himself on his forearms so as not to crush you. He slots his lips against yours and the two of you share breaths as you come down from your highs.

Once the two of you have caught your breath, he slowly pulls out of you. He places a kiss on your forehead and walks to the bathroom. You eye the dimples in his buttcheeks as he walks away. He returns shortly with a wet cloth and kneels between your thighs. He gingerly cleans his mess, aware of how sensitive you are. 

When he finishes, he throws the cloth onto the floor and climbs up the bed to join you. You climb under the sheets and fold them over on the other side, offering Bucky the space. He happily lays down next to you and pulls you into his chest.

“You’re beautiful, doll. I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did.”

“It was so good, Buck,” you manage to respond in your exhausted state. 

“I’m sure you’d enjoy it more if I didn’t have to punish you, too,” you can’t see his face, but you know he has a cocky smirk on his face.

“You’ll have to show me, then.”

“Oh, believe me, sweet girl, I plan to.”

You fall asleep against Bucky’s strong chest, his hand scratching soothingly at your back.

[cevansbrat0007]

Thirst Trap

Summary: Ari loves looking at your ass in those shorts, as long as he's the one who gets to walk behind you.

Warnings: Ari Being A Menace, Implied Stalking, Smut, Brat!Reader, Arguments, Jealous/Possessive Behavior, Biting, Light D/s Overtones, Slight Manhandling, Ass Slapping, Spanking (mentioned), Edging (mentioned), Punishments (mentioned), Hair Pulling, Discussions of Body Image, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“Any minute now.” Ari grumbles to himself as he glares down at a display of brightly colored bell peppers while he waits for you to move on to a different part of the store. 

You’ve been lingering in the produce department for the better part of ten minutes now. In fact, it’s your second time over here, what with you having doubled-back to switch out some of the strawberries you’d originally grabbed in favor of several containers of blueberries.

Or, perhaps raspberries. Maybe blackberries and – nope. You appeared to be solidly set on those damned blueberries. Thank God.

It wasn’t so much Ari being impatient with you as it was him ready to leave the store. If he was being honest, you most likely weren’t even aware that he was here. And if you had noticed, then you were doing a fantastic job of ignoring him.

Frankly, he was surprised that a member of Herb & Twine’s loss prevention team hadn’t approached him by now. Especially since he had yet to actually put anything in his cart. The same cart he’d been pushing around for the better part of a half-hour. 

At this point, Ari Levinson was growing suspicious of his own damn self. Starting with the fact that every day he woke up more and more addicted to you – your voice, your smile, your touch.  

And that body. Fuck! 

You had no idea just how many nights he had lain awake thinking of those gorgeous curves, his hand fisted around his cock desperate for a little relief. You were a permanent fixture in his mind these days. And you had no fucking clue. 

Just like you had no fucking clue that you were drawing the attention of practically every man in this place who still possessed the ability to get it up. 

All thanks to a pair of cutoff denim shorts. They fit your ass so good it was damn near disrespectful. And sweet heavenly fuck were they short! Everytime you moved he was treated to a glimpse of those tempting curves. 

Shit set his teeth on edge. Because while he was thrilled that you were feeling confident enough to show off your curves, there was another, more primal, part of him that hated the fact that you were showing off what belonged to him.

Mine.  

That one word dances through his brain, making him wish that he could simply toss you over his shoulder and carry you off to some remote location. Maybe punish you for daring to wear that outfit in public without your man by your side. 

So now, instead of focusing on his own shopping, he’s been forced to follow you around the store. Staying just out of sight, of course. Which wasn’t easy. It was tough to be stealthy when he constantly found himself being mesmerized by the sway of your hips.

In his defense of his stalker ways, he’d been ready to identify himself from the moment he laid eyes on you. But since he was already in a foul mood – because you hadn’t called him like you said you would – he decided to pretend to run into you at the check-out lane instead. 

Until Ari had caught a couple young punks, whose barely-there mustaches were entirely too wispy for his liking, checking out your ass for a few seconds too long. And what pissed him off more than anything else is that you appeared oblivious to all of it.

You were too busy living in your own little world, sashaying your way through the grocery store, with your sweet ass on display. An ass that belonged to him.

Just like you did, beautiful Bird. 

“Time to move it along, fellas.” Ari grunts, none-too-gently nudging their cart with his own. “We’re here to shop, not to gawk at the pretty ladies.”

What were their names again? Charley and Dirk? More like Beavis and Butt-Head, if he were being honest.

“Ain’t no laws against admiring.” Dirk responds as he elbows his buddy in the ribs. “I’m telling you, man. I don’t think she’s as stuck up as everyone lets on.” 

Ari also agrees with that assessment of you, even though he doesn’t say anything. Because they were right. You were so much more than what the folks in this town had initially led him to believe.

“Nah. That bitch once gave me shit for throwing away a bunch of my sister’s old books instead of donating them or whatever the fuck she said she does.” Comes Charley’s retort, a smirk firmly plastered on his lips.  

“So what? Maybe she just needs to get laid. I bet if I – hey!”  

 Ari interrupts the young men, ramming their cart again with a bit more force this time. “I meant what I said. Now you can either move it along, or I can escort you out the door myself. Up to you.”

“But we ain’t even done anything wrong, Levinson!” One sputters as the other takes a tentative step back.

“Harassment is a crime anywhere, boys. Even in bumfuck towns like this one.” The imposing bounty hunter dips his head knowingly, baring his teeth as he does. “Now, do I need to retrieve my cuffs? And because I’m passionate about the law, I always carry two pairs.” 

Shaking their heads “no”, both of them turn and quickly hasten away, continuing to mutter under their breaths as they do. Which is fine by him. Because whether they knew it or not, they’d just made Ari’s personal shit list. Which meant they’d do well to stay out of his way for the foreseeable future.

But you, on the other hand…you two were about to have words. As soon as he tracked you down again.

Ari searches high and low for you for several minutes, continuously walking the aisles hoping to catch a glimpse of you. But unfortunately for him, his search turns up empty. Which then leads him out to the parking lot, just in time to see you hang a left off the property.

What on earth possessed you to walk here? And better yet, where the fuck was your car?

“Swear to God, you need a damned keeper.” He grumbles as he makes a beeline for his own vehicle. Throwing himself inside, he slams the door and guns the engine before peeling out of the lot. “Might as well be a full-time job.”  

Although you’re moving quickly, it doesn’t take long for him to catch up with you. You all-but jump out of your skin when he pulls out next to you. But instead of apologizing for scaring you like he normally would, he finds himself ready to rip you a new one on account of the fact that you’re wearing fucking headphones.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Ari snarls, his gruff tone taking you slightly aback.

“I mean I don’t think so.” You sniff, temporarily halting your steps so you can peer at him through the passenger window. “But the day is young and I just got some new inventory that’s been on back-order for a while so…” You muster up a cheeky smile, even as you feel yourself beginning to sweat. “I guess anything is possible.”

Damn this early summer heat. Between the stickiness in the air and your thighs rubbing together, you were ready to sit down. But first you had to make it back to the shop in one piece.

“Get in the car, Bird.” Your occasional bed-partner’s no-nonsense tone instantly has your hackles raised as he puts the truck in park. 

“Why?” You ask, not bothering to hide your suspicion.

“Get in the damn car.” Ari repeats, his left hand squeezing the steering wheel so hard you worry he might rip it clean off the dash. 

“Say please.” Sometimes Mr. Levinson seemed to forget the importance of manners.   

“Fucking damn it, woman!” He barks, before exiting his ride and jogging around the side to yank open the door closest to you. “Baby,” he tries again, his fingers going to pinch the bridge of his nose. “We can do this either one of two ways. Either you can get in the car on your own like a good girl, or I can put you in it myself.”

You shoot him a glare, suddenly wishing you had purchased something a little heavier than fresh fruit and whipping cream from Herb & Twine in preparation for this very moment. That way you might have a better chance of knocking some much needed sense into his thick skull.

“And I take it there isn’t a third option?” You venture, your teeth going to nibble at your bottom lip.

“Bird, I’m so glad you asked.” This time Ari finally sees fit to offer you a smile. Too bad there’s nothing friendly about it. “Option three involves me bending you over the hood of my truck and tanning all that ass you’ve got hanging out of your shorts for being dumb enough to walk to the damned store instead of taking your car.   

“I am not dumb!” You hiss, feeling the bite of his anger. “I just had to grab the stuff I needed to make popsicles.”

“Then what do you call it?” He growls, snagging a hold of your bags. “Because last time I checked, we’ve got a man on the run who just might be a fucking killer. And you decide that it’s a good time for a goddamned stroll.”

Those words have you instantly deflating. Just because this man in front of you had a way of getting under your skin sometimes didn’t make him any less right. While you had viewed your quick trip to the store as an easy way to stretch your legs and get some fresh air, someone else might take that opportunity to see you as a target. Which meant that you had almost royally fucked up.

“Okay.” Is all you can manage before handing him the rest of your belongings. “I assume you know how to get back to Baubles & Quills?”

“I do. Just like I knew you’d see it my way.”

It’s only a ten-minute ride to your shop. But thanks to your asshole companion, it might as well have been an hour. And at this point you were fucking fuming. 

“Thanks for the lift, Ari.” You snarl, shutting the car door with your hip and marching towards the front door of your shop. “But I can handle myself.” Fishing out your keys, you make quick work of unlocking the door and all but tossing your groceries inside. They land with a dull thunk, the contents spilling out of the bags and onto the floor.

The gall of this man! Acting as if he had the right to bark orders at you because you’d slept together once or twice. Alright, it was more like five. But no more. After today you were done. 

Especially since he’d spent the entire ten-minutes it took to get back to your shop reading you the riot act. Don’t do this. Don’t do that. No traveling on your own after sundown. Call him every night when you’re locking up the shop and then again when you get home…

The list went on and on. Up until now, you’d honestly had no idea just how much Ari Levinson loved hearing himself talk.  

“You know, for the record, I was doing just fine before you got here.” You continue, casting him a withering glance over your shoulder.You don’t miss the way his jaw clenches either. “And I’m sure I’ll find a way to do even better once you leave.”

Fire burning hot in your belly, you allow the door to slam behind you as you busy yourself with collecting your things. There was a refrigerator in the kitchenette you could use to store everything until it was time to head home for the day. 

In the meantime, if that beefy, overbearing knuckle dragger outside knew what was good for him, he’d pile himself into his truck and drive off into the sunset. Preferably sooner rather than later. Before you went and made the mistake of actually catching feelings or something. 

Because who the fuck were you kidding? The man had a propensity for spiking your blood pressure long before you ever allowed him anywhere near your damn panties. Which meant you knew better. And you’d still decided to give up the goods all because you were worried about cobwebs in your coochie.

“The sex isn’t even that good.” You mutter as you flip the light switch. 

Okay, yes it was. But you were also smarter than this. Just because the man had pretty eyes, an easy smile, and a big dick didn’t mean he could talk to you any ol’ kind of way. Or just insert himself in your life like he was planning to stick around. 

As if he planned to stay. You were done accepting promises from men who either couldn’t or wouldn’t keep them.

You startle when you hear the chime of the bells, signaling the opening and closing of the front door. For their sake, it had better not be a customer. You weren’t feeling particularly helpful or friendly at the moment.  

“We’re closed. Get out.” You call, hoping that whoever was out there had heard you the first time. Unfortunately for you, luck just didn’t seem to be on your side today. Because instead of the sounds of someone beating a hasty retreat, you get more Ari Levinson.  

“Which is exactly why you need to lock the goddamn door. Or what part of there might be a killer on the loose do you not quite get?”

“I was getting around to it!” You snipe, really wishing you’d had the forethought to lock the damn door before that insufferable man had decided to waltz through it after you.

“Not fast enough for my liking.” Ari leans against the doorframe, his big body blocking the exit. “And since I’m gettin’ shit off my chest, I don’t appreciate you walking away from me in the middle of a conversation either.”

That earns him an eye roll before you return your attention to rearranging items in the fridge. Quite honestly, you didn’t give a damn about what he did or didn’t like. And you hated the fact that the quiet authority in his voice was all it took to ruin your panties. 

Bossy bastard.   

“Eyes, Bird.” He growls, making it clear he wasn’t letting you off the hook for that passive show of disrespect. “I already made it plain how I felt about you rolling ‘em at me. And if you recall, it pisses me the fuck off.” 

Ari Levinson had never been the type of man who did well with being dismissed. By anyone. Anywhere. Ever.

“Well, it pisses me the fuck off when people like you make comments about what I wear. Frankly, I struggle enough being in this body as it is. So, if you don’t like my clothes then don’t fucking look at me and maybe you won’t be disgusted by the sight of my fat ass hanging out of my shorts. Problem solved.”

“The fuck did you say?” The sound of Ari’s pissed off snarl might as well be the equivalent of a record scratch.

“You heard me.” You find yourself rolling your eyes once again, not feeling the least bit sorry for it either. 

But in all reality, you had no idea just how hard you were pushing him. Maybe if you knew, you would’ve quit while you were ahead. 

“Duchess.” Comes Ari’s weary sigh as he jams his hands into his pockets, preventing himself from touching you. “You keep rollin’ those eyes at me and runnin’ that sassy little mouth of yours and I’m afraid we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Jesus Christ.” You sneer. “Why the fuck are you even still here, Ari?”

“Because we’re having a conversation. But in order for us to continue doing that, I’m gonna need you to settle down.”

“I will settle down when you get the hell out of my store.” Fuck, if there was ever a time when you could’ve used a cattle prod!

“And I’ll get the hell out of your store when I’ve finished making my point.” He responds, his nostrils flaring in frustration. “Now what’s all this business about you not wanting me to look at you? And who the fuck called you fat?”

All Ari needed from you was a name. He’d take care of the rest later.

“Argh!” You screech, your arms flailing wide. “You know what? Forget it! I’m done!” You slam the door to the fridge before attempting to shoulder past Ari. 

Too bad your 6”4 Beast doesn’t seem all that keen on moving.

“Done with what?” He grits out, purposely holding you hostage. 

“With you.” You hit back as steam practically pours out of your ears. “Us. And this entire godforsaken town. Now fucking move, Levinson.” 

Again you attempt to get by him. And again he stops you, his spine stiffening in confusion. Because he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet.

“We’re not done, you and me. Not by a long shot.” His big hands go to gently frame your face, his thumbs smoothing over your cheeks. “But I do think I might have said something that upset you. And while I’m not sure what it was, I apologize. But we’re not done, baby.”

“You’re not in charge of me, of this.” You tell him, breaking his hold as you do your damnedest to ignore the trembling of your lower lip.

“Now that’s where you’re wrong. Especially given the fact that you were in my bed the night before last.” He flashes you a cocky smile as he slowly backs you towards the wall. “And you loved every minute of it.” 

For some reason, Ari feels compelled to tack on the last part. Secretly hoping to get a rise out of you. And it works, but maybe not exactly in the way he intended.

“I had an itch. And you scratched it. It doesn’t make you special, Ari.” You hiss, ignoring the warning gleam in his eyes. “Any man would’ve worked, but I decided to bet on a stranger. Make things easier for myself.”  

All lies. And you both knew it. 

Unfazed, your bounty hunter continues to crowd you, using his hard, muscled body to box you in. And that’s when you remember that Ari Levinson had the ability to read people like a fucking book – you included.

Which meant this man had already pegged you for a runner the moment he met you. A fair assessment if there ever was one. 

“I want you to look me in the eyes and say that shit again.” Ari growls the moment your back connects with the wall, his palms coming to brace themselves on either side of your head. 

His message was clear. You were no longer in charge of the situation. Just like that.

“Let’s hear it, Bird.” The husky timbre of his voice washes over you, making your nipples pebble beneath the thin material of your shirt. “I mean, you’ve already gone and dug yourself in pretty deep with this shit.” And then the soft brush of his lips along the column of your throat has your world tilting on its axis. “But if you wanna keep going, I’ve got time.”

“I…” You croak, your mouth suddenly dry. Your eyes flutter closed when Ari begins to nibble his way along your jaw, sending your already thrumming pulse rocketing to new heights. “You can’t– I’m not…” 

“C’mon and tell me I’m not your man, that you don’t want me in your bed anymore.” He presses his body against yours, moving his hips so that you can feel the outline of his denim-covered erection against your belly. “Tell me that you don’t need me to keep you in line. Need me to punish you, please you, and everything else in between…”

Your eyes fly open at his words, your core spasming. “Y–you can’t punish me.” You stammer, shivering as Ari’s lidded gaze darkens with lust. “I haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“Now I’m afraid that’s where I beg to differ, sweetness.” Without warning, he sinks his teeth into the sweet spot where your neck meets your shoulder, sucking hard. You let out a sharp cry as your hands go to rest on his biceps. 

But you don’t push him away, not even when he releases you to let his tongue lave over the small hurt. 

Satisfied with his handiwork, he pulls back so that he can look you in the eye once again. “If you need a list of where you’ve gone wrong the last few days, I’m more than happy to give you one.” Ari’s nimble fingers find the front of your shorts, unsnapping them before you can blink. “Starting with your forgetting to call me last night.”

“I didn’t think it was that big a deal.” You confess on a whimper as he slips a dangerous hand inside your soaked panties. “Ooh! Or that you’d even really care if I didn’t.”

“Well, you thought wrong.” Ari cups your pussy, feeling immensely pleased when he discovers just how excited you are for him. “Contrary to what you might think, I don’t always talk just to make sounds. And I’d much rather hear your pretty little voice over my own. But when it comes to your safety, I do not play.” His grip tightens then, as he grinds the heel of his palm against your pulsing clit. 

“O–okay. I’m sorry!” You arch your back, letting the sparks of white-hot pleasure run their course.

“Atta girl.” He praises, cutting off your next cry with a kiss so good it makes your toes curl. Ari takes his time devouring you, enjoying every single little moan and breathy sigh that slips past your lips. “Since I’ve got you listening so nicely, how about we see if you can follow a few simple instructions for me?” Mouth curving in a rakish grin, he removes his hand from your shorts and takes a step back.

And then he licks his palm, his eyes never once leaving yours as he savors the taste of all that sweet, sticky honey you’d left behind for him. 

“Never get enough of you.” Ari groans, his apparent hunger for you only deepening the longer it takes for him to feed it. “Now turn around and face the wall. There you go, baby.”

Heart hammering in your chest, you move to comply and then ready yourself for his next command. While you weren’t exactly sure what happened to your earlier fire, you had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with the renewed heat pooling in your belly. 

Well, that and the wetness between your thighs.

“Next I want you to take off those damned shorts, followed by your panties. Bend over and pull ‘em down real slow.” Again, you move to comply only to halt when he adds something else you weren’t expecting. “But there’s a trick to this one. You still listening?"

Wordlessly you nod.

“Thought so. Now, I want you to pull ‘em down without bending your knees.” He rasps, his own hand going to squeeze his straining erection through his jeans. “I’m tellin’ you right now, I wanna see pink, baby. Your man wants to get a good, long look at that juicy pussy. Go on.”

You bend over, intending to do as he asks. But before you can get very far, you hear the sound of him unbuckling his belt. Immediately you pause, glancing at him curiously over your shoulder. 

“Eyes front!” Ari barks, his hand connecting with your bare bottom with a sharp crack, making you yip. “Show me you know how to fucking follow my directions.” He lands another blow before giving you permission to continue.

This time you manage to do as he bids. And although you wish you could attempt to rub the sting out of your ass, you decide you’re better off simply leaving well enough alone. 

Now you’re standing there, naked from the waist down. Your shorts and panties in a heap on the floor at your feet. Seriously, what was it about this man that always had your clothes coming off? Shit was starting to get annoying!

“Would you get a look at you?” Comes your Bounty Hunter’s husky purr. He trails the slightly roughened pads of his fingers along your still burning butt. “And I want to be clear about something. I love this ass, baby. And I would never disrespect it or you by calling you fat.” He lands another hard slap for good measure. “And I damn sure won’t tolerate you referring to yourself that way either.”

Ari would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy seeing his handprint like this. In fact, if he had his way, you were going to be covered in his marks a lot more often from here on out. So you had better get used to it.

“Can I turn around now, please?” Your tiny voice somehow manages to sound both breathy and impatient at the same time.

“You must really want that fucking spanking I keep finding myself itching to give.” Ari growls, although this time there’s a teasing edge in his tone. “Go brace yourself on that little table for me, sweetness. I want those palms down flat and that luscious ass poked out. Now.”

Your jelly legs threaten to give out beneath you as you wobble over to the table, abandoning your clothes where they lay. Instead of complaining, you remind yourself to look at the bright side of things. 

At least he hadn’t ripped your shit this time. Maybe your panties would actually make it out of this in one piece this time. A girl could only hope.

“You’re doing so well, little Bird.” Ari praises as he toes off his boots and shucks his pants, tossing them in the direction of your own discarded clothing. “We’re almost there. Stick that ass out for me, I want this image of you right here, all soft and sweet, embedded in my brain so I have something to remember the next time you decide to be a brat.”

“Yes, Sir.” You whisper, unprompted. Your quiet admission serves to confirm something that Ari had long since suspected to be true.

He needed to earn your submission. Prove he deserved it. And now you had his unspoken promise that he would. Every single day from here on out. 

Soon, Ari’s pants are followed by his boxer and his shirt. Eventually he’s left standing stark naked and proud right there in your little shop’s kitchenette. His impressively thick cock stands at attention, a delicious bead of precum dotting the tip.

“Time for your reward, little Bird.” That’s all the warning he gives you. Gripping your hips with his big hands, he enters you with one hard thrust. You shoot up on your toes as your greedy pussy clenches around him.

“Fuck, Beast!” You whine, as Ari bottoms out inside you. But unlike your previous dalliances, he doesn’t give you time to adjust. Because he was still very much a man with a point to prove. “Oh God! Oh God! Please!”

And the only way he was convinced he was going to be able to ram that point home, is if you couldn’t walk straight by the time he was through.   

“That’s right.” Ari snarls, showing you no mercy as he finds his rhythm. He sets a rough pace, drinking in every cry of pleasure as he works to stake his claim. “This pussy knows me, baby. And so does this body.” He bears down, loving the way you rise to meet him with each punishing thrust. “Say it. Tell me.” He orders, angling his hips in a way that allows him to go even deeper.

His heavy balls slap against your sopping wet core, the filthy sound of his primal claiming echoing throughout the empty room. You feel the coil tighten in your belly as your man pushes you closer and closer to the brink.

“I’m yours!” You cry as your vision begins to blur. Fuck you were getting close.

“Again.” Ari snarls, the harsh sound reverberating in his chest. He shifts his grip, allowing his muscled chest to press against your back. 

“Ari, oh God! Fuck!Fuck!Fuuuuck!” This shit was too fucking much. Your knees practically threatening to buckle under the weight of the pleasure that is currently responsible for driving you insane.

“Either say it or I stop.” He warns, although his brutal pace never once falters. “Tell me what I wanna hear unless you want me to edge you for the next week.” That’s all you need to hear. Because what he just proposed sounded a hell of a lot like your worst nightmare.

“I’m yours!” You wail, as a tear tracks its way down your cheek. “Beast, I’m yours. Swear to God I am!” Satisfied, Ari then redoubles his efforts to reward you for being his good girl.

“Thank you, sweet Bird.” Comes his dark chuckle as he whispers a hot kiss along your damp brow. “Now was that really so hard?” Another kiss, this time as one of his hands sneaks around to play with your sensitive clit. “How about we see what else we can get you to finally admit to?” 

That same coil pulls tighter, the invisible cord now dangerously close to snapping while your man busies himself with taking you apart piece by piece. And then his other hand fists itself in your curls, wrenching your head back to bestow a trail of scorching hot kisses along your throat. Leaving no doubt in your mind that he was about to thoroughly wreck you.

“And when we're through, baby, I'll even take you out for ice cream.” 

END   

[ace-turned-confused]

shiftin' gear | part two

joel masterlist | series masterlist

pairing: mechanic!joel x f!reader series outline: a slacker of a boyfriend, no job, and now your car needs serious maintenance. heading to the mechanic’s, you’re just expecting him to rid you of your car troubles and move on — you’re certainly not expecting him to change your life chapter summary: with big decisions to make, life throws you a curveball that leads you to joel again word count: 3,2k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied, boyfriend is still useless & also a prick, minor injury & blood, my car knowledge™️, bit of a cry & breakdown sesh, age gap (23/50), smutty thoughts, allusions to f masturbation a/n: thank you @frannyzooey for all the help & encouraging words when reading this over 😚❤️

A month has passed since you first met Joel Miller and you haven’t gone to see him since. You certainly wanted to, but couldn’t bring yourself to go there under the excuse of a lie, or the alternative of admitting you went just because you could. Every time you turn your car’s ignition, a small part of you hopes that another light will flicker on the dashboard, but so far that dream hasn’t been fulfilled.

A month since you met Joel Miller but three months since you and Jake last slept together. The few times you’ve come close, you end up giving him an excuse. At first, you simply couldn’t be bothered to put so much effort in, claiming you were tired. But lately, it’s because you’re thinking of Joel — what it’d look like having his hand dipping into your panties, how his mouth would feel on you, how you’d burn up watching him take himself out his pants.

Which is not ideal when Joel isn’t the one trying to do those things.

Jake’s been putting more pressure on you to see him more regularly again and it’s laborious, draining, constantly needing to put on this cheerful persona around him — you’re never able to mope around or yell or cry just for the sake of it. Truthfully, you’ve been trying to work out for a long time now how to go about breaking up with him.

His reaction to why you had quit your job had catapulted this even further. I’m sure the guy was a deserving candidate. You can’t just quit because someone better than you got the job. Not asking how you felt, not asking for details, simply not caring. He still had the nerve to ask if you were staying the night after that, and that’s when you dropped the conversation. Your employment hadn’t been brought up again.

As brief as it was, you found great comfort in talking to Joel about it — not once did he tell you you’d made a mistake, or that you’d regret it down the line. Just knowing he’s there to listen is more than what you have right now. 

Maybe you should stop by sometime.

-

You have plans to see Jake tonight, and you’re undecided on whether or not you should finally cut ties with him. You’re dressed in a square-neck navy top and black pants that hug your hips and thighs amazingly. Sure, you might end the night by breaking a boy’s heart — though, you’re not sure he’ll feel much emotion other than confusion — but this might be the one thing that’ll keep you feeling good about yourself right now.

Stopping off to get a few small items at the grocery store, the parking lot is mostly empty by the time you walk out. As you reach your car again, you see one of your back tires is almost completely flat. Dropping your bags, you seethe with anger – it feels like one fucking thing after another. 

Taking a breath, you calm yourself down and start unpacking the toolkit from your boot. Car jack, lug wrench, some… other tool that’s used for something — it can’t be that important. You run the process over in your head — it’s just changing a tire, how difficult can it be?

Crouched down on your knees, you’ve partially loosened the lug nuts on the wheel and are busy jacking up your car when your mind drifts off to Joel. He’d probably do this for you and you wouldn’t even argue with him — you couldn’t look away the first time he worked on your car, and you doubt that’ll ever change.

Maybe he’d be surprised you can do this, maybe he’d be impressed. Maybe he’d tell you you’re too pretty to change a tire and get your clothes dirty. You’d laugh it off, but you might just believe him.

You can’t picture Jake saying that to you — you can’t remember the last time he even gave you an honest compliment and meant it, not something backhanded, not something that elevates him higher than you. 

What’s sadder is that it doesn’t upset you anymore.

Changing a tire is easy enough in theory, but this is the first time you’ve actually done it yourself and Jesus Christ it’s more taxing than you anticipated. You’re sweaty, out of breath, and you’re sure you’ve pulled a muscle. In the depths of your daydreaming, you lose your grip on the lug wrench and fall forward, scraping your arm on the tar. It stings to no end and blood starts settling in small pools, the surface of your skin covered in a rough mixture of gravel and bits of tar — the last thing you need, but it’ll have to wait.

Tossing the wrench to the ground, it lands with a startling clank, the sound reverberating through your skull. You’re hauling the old wheel into the boot of your car and see a nail, stuck flush in the tire, still shiny and new. You wish you could feel shiny and new again.

Fuck this. You pull out your phone to text Jake.

You: just got a fucking flat tireYou: not coming anymore, sorry

You don’t wait for him to respond and focus on lowering your car again. You consider your options on where to go after this — not particularly wanting to go home so soon to be grilled by your dad, there is one place you can think of.

-

It’s early evening and Joel’s getting ready to close up shop for the day, tools pushed to the side and cash books up to date. Piling up loose papers, he finds the invoice for the brake sets he used on your car and he can’t help but wonder how you’ve been the past month. Each day that passed he hoped you’d show up — maybe something else was wrong with your car, maybe you’d just come to see him for the sake of it, but you never did. He told himself it was better that way.

He’s been keeping himself busy otherwise, teaching Eddie some tricks of the trade and avoiding Hazel. She’s not a bad woman, but he’s made it clear on plenty of occasions that he is not interested, be it a one-night stand or something serious  — then, of course, he met you.

He hasn’t been on a real date in a lifetime, he’s had casual flings here and there, but he’s felt drawn to you right from the start. He just wants to take care of you, give you the treatment you deserve, which you aren’t getting from your boyfriend. Emotionally, physically — whatever you need, whatever you’ll let him do. A part of him hopes you and this Jake boy will eventually break up and you’ll come running into his own arms instead, as selfish as it may be.

He hears a car stop outside and a door slams shut with a thud, pulling him out of his thoughts. Turning around he sees you dragging yourself in from the street, bloody scrapes on your arm and dirt stains on your pant legs. You look tired, rattled.

“Joel? Please can you help me?”

-

Joel’s standing alongside your car, hands on his hips, in the same tight coveralls you saw him wearing a month ago.

“You know you could’ve just called sweetheart, I would’ve come to change it for you.”

“I can change a tire.” Previously, the endearment would’ve made your mind go blank, but you’re tired — tired of Jake, tired of life’s bullshit, tired of everything, and it comes out much harsher than you intended.

Joel doesn’t seem to notice. If he does, he doesn’t comment. He bends down to inspect it and a small part of you hopes he’s impressed by your efforts.

“I can see that, you did a good job of it too.” He tries twisting a lug nut and it doesn’t shift. “Who taught you how to do this?”

“Common sense? It’s not that complicated.”

“You didn’t wanna call your dad or that boyfriend of yours to come and help?”

“My dad would tell me I’m doing it wrong and I’d tell Jake he was doing it wrong. No thanks.”

You stand, arms folded across your chest and give him a tight smile, which fades as fast as it appears. Usually you’d revel in the banter between you, but tonight you can’t find it in yourself to let go.

“Well, I won’t keep you long. I’ll put a new tire on here for you and you’ll be good to go on.”

Your phone rings before you can respond — you tilt the screen and can see it’s Jake. You let out a bitter sigh, not in the mood for the insensitivity and all-round lack of respect you’re bound to get from him. You don’t excuse yourself when you answer, beyond caring what Joel may hear from either of you.

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you call me, I could’ve come to help.”

“Says the guy who needed the manual to find the lever for the fucking fuel cap.”

“Well, I could’ve fetched you or called someone else.”

“It’s fine, it’s done. I’m getting a new tire fitted anyways, I’m at the mechanic’s right now.”

“Alright, whatever, but it’s not too late — you can still come over, stay the night maybe?”

“I said I’m not coming — my clothes are filthy, I’ve got muscle cramps where I didn’t know I fucking had muscles, and I’m not in the mood Jake. Not tonight.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joel stills, just for a moment, like that was the last thing he expected to hear from you. You swear you can see his ears redden and you wish you could see the expression on his face.

“Thought you’d have changed your mind by now but okay, I could come over to…”

“I said no. I have to go.”

You end the call and cut his goodbyes short, putting your phone on silent and shoving it back into your pocket. Seeing Joel had lifted your spirits ever so slightly, and now that’s all been undone. You’ve held it together all day but you feel tears start to well in your eyes. You blink furiously, trying your hardest to will them away before it’s too late.

-

“Everything alright?”

Joel stands and turns to face you, repeating his question when you don’t respond and sees you staring ahead, tears streaming down your cheeks. As if on instinct, he moves towards you and wraps his arms around you. He feels your body go rigid and begins to pull back — this was a mistake, he should’ve asked — but as fast as he lets you go you’re pulling him back in, your arms now wrapping around his middle.

Standing with your head buried into his chest, your breaths come out in gasps as you try to stop yourself from crying. He can feel your hands are balled into fists and you’re squeezing your arms like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded, like you’re scared he won’t come back if you let go. Joel’s careful not to put his hands where he really shouldn’t, one between your shoulder blades, the other cradling your head. Everything is not alright, but he doesn’t want to overstep, risk pushing you further down into yourself and further away from him.

“Hey, sweetheart, let’s go sit.”

You don’t object as he moves his hand to the small of your back and walks you into the office. He sits you down on the couch, handing you water from the fridge and you’ve gone silent, eyes drawn to the floor, but your tears have somewhat slowed. He notices blotches of dried blood on the bottom of your shirt and gets up to find some bandages and cotton pads — he knows there’s a first-aid kit somewhere around here.

“Just wanna clean your arm up, that okay?”

You nod your head meekly, still avoiding his eyes. He takes your arm in his hands, twisting it to see the scrapes and grazes in their entirety. He wipes your arm down with an alcohol-soaked cotton pad and you pinch your eyes shut, wincing slightly at the inevitable sting. Thankfully your arm just looked worse than it is; he’s able to leave most of it uncovered, only bandaging a small section that looks particularly inflamed.

Placing your arm down in your lap, he’s not sure how to carry on. He can practically hear you thinking, but what exactly is turning over and over in that head of yours he doesn’t know.

“Sorry,” you mumble weakly, angling your head towards him, gaze still downward.

“Sorry for what?”

“This.” You shift your hands around in your lap and start picking at your nails. You slump down on the couch, continuing, “Sorry for crying.”

“Hey, look at me.” Joel turns himself to face you, resting an elbow on the back of the couch. He waits for you to turn and you finally lift yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes red and glassy.

“Don’t apologise for crying, sweetheart. You’re allowed to cry.”

“I’m twenty-three, I should be better at all this by now.”

“Better at what? I’m about to turn fuckin’ fifty and I still cry sometimes.”

You turn away from him again — you furrow your brow and he can tell you’re trying to come up with a reason why that shouldn’t apply to you, why you need to be stronger than anyone else.

“I assume that was your boyfriend on the phone? Sounds like you had grand plans for tonight.”

You screw your face up at that.

“Don’t call him- don’t say that. He had grand plans, I was psyching myself up to break up with him.”

He knew that something wasn’t right between the two of you, but he didn’t realise it would be quite this bad.

“It’s just…” You sigh again, sounding despondent, like all that anger you had earlier has been dissolved, absorbed, or maybe you’ve just become desensitised to it.

“I just don’t understand, how is he so… detached? It’s like he’s from another fuckin’ planet. I can’t tell anymore if he just doesn’t care or if he truly is that self-absorbed.” You lean back and bring your arms up, draping them over your head.

“Was it always like this?” He’s trying his best to tread lightly, but hopes you’ll feel more at ease if you can get some of this off your chest.

“No… at least, I don't think so. Maybe it has been and I was just blinded by the bare minimum. Only now he doesn’t even do that.”

You turn to look at him again, eyes changed from glassy to broken and exhausted. You whisper a thank you, a soft, sad smile on your face and he decides not to push you any further. You’ve shared, and that’s a start — you’ll come to him again in your own time.

“Gonna go finish up that tire of yours, you can stay in here a while if—”

You’re standing before he can get the words out, straightening out your shirt and wiping your tear-stained cheeks with the back of your hand.

“Sounds good, let’s go.”

No longer hysterical as you push past to walk outside, now you just look defeated. He should insist you stay put to be alone, but having just opened up about your insecurities and loveless relationship with Jake, now isn’t the time to defy you. Maybe he can try and bring a smile to your face before you say goodbye.

-

You thought your night might end in tears courtesy of Jake, but this isn’t what you were expecting. You can’t believe you broke down so easily in front of Joel, but maybe deep down you knew he wouldn’t mind, knew he’d be there to console you.

You have to admit, it felt nice to be held, to feel safe in someone's embrace. Your head was spinning — Jake’s an asshole, my arm hurts like a bitch, I’m never gonna get the blood out of this shirt. Then Joel took your arm in his hands and it had your head spinning for entirely different reasons. Feeling his fingertips dig into your skin and his hold around your wrist had you longing to feel those same sensations on the rest of your body.

Joel shook your hand the first day you met and you committed it to memory — firm grip, calloused palm, thick fingers. You replayed it in your mind on countless late nights with your hand between your legs, trying to imagine how different it would feel, how much better it would feel if it were his instead.

Coming outside into fresh air was supposed to calm you down, until Joel carried on replacing the tire and you felt heat settle under your skin, neither from injury nor anger. Muscles flexing under his coveralls, neck tensing and the grunts from the exertion — something else you can commit to memory. You feel your panties dampen and you don’t feel ashamed.

Joel stands when he’s finished fitting the new tire, lifting you out of your fantasy. Thinking back to the last time you saw him, you remember his parting words to you: you’re welcome to come answer the phone for me. You couldn’t tell if he was being polite or actually offering you a job.

“Were you serious about all that answering the phone stuff?” You wring your hands, worried you’re about to make a fool of yourself.

“You wanna work here?” Joel straightens up, the hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“I mean, I know my dad would like to see me out of the house and actually doing something. I doubt this would impress him, though.”

Joel cocks his head to the side, hands planted on his hips as he inches towards you and you feel yourself heat up instantly, eyes going wide as embarrassment washes over you.

“Sorry! No offence to you, I just mean- I’m not saying it’s- God I’m really not helping myself.” You snap your eyes shut, hands flying up to cover your face and you wish the world could just swallow you whole.

Joel starts laughing, a quiet, gravelly sound and you open your eyes to glare at him. He raises his eyebrows, a wide smile now across his face.

“No offence taken. Do you really wanna sit here answering the phone? I‘m sure there’ll be some other stuff we can do, too, but not much else beyond that.”

Other stuff we can do. You could certainly think of a few things, that’s for sure.

“Well, something’s better than nothing. And you play nice music, so there’s that.”

He laughs again, shaking his head.

“Maybe you can teach me some car stuff when I’m not answering the phone. And… you’re nice to be around, I guess.” You purse your lips, trying your best to play it off as an innocent compliment. 

“Well alright then, I’ll see you next week sweetheart.” He smiles warmly, eyes just beginning to crinkle around the edges and for the first time today you feel at ease.

Joel saves your number and waves you goodbye as you drive off. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he’s still standing in the road, a smirk plastered on his face and you grin like an idiot. You still have Jake to deal with, and your blood-stained shirt might go straight in the bin, but at least you have working with Joel to look forward to.

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[sofasoap]

When the rain stops

Pairing: Simon "Ghost"Riley x F!reader Rating: T-M rating. slightly open ending. no angst ( for once!)

Summary: You were stuck at the shop with your groceries, and your intimidating ( but nice ) masked neighbour waited the rain out with you.

Thank you @glitterypirateduck for organising the writing challenge! you are totally awesome :) Go here to check out other wonderful writer and artist's work for this challenge.

Prompt used : No.83 Stuck/Caught in the rain note: I have to thank @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world her roommate series simon will always be my inspo for any neighbour/roommate related ideas. *taking deep bow*

Part of the Memory in a Fragrance series Master list

Holding one bag of grocery in one hand, and a bag of rice in another arm, sighing as the sky opened up, regretting not listening to yourself earlier on.

Should have brought my brolly, or should have driven here instead of walking. Thinking to yourself. So much for wanting to get some exercise and steps into my daily routine. 

Oh well, What else can you do but wait? 

“You gotta be kidding me.” 

Suddenly a large shadow with a deep rumbling voice loomed over you, cursing away.

Looking up, stands Simon, your large yet mysterious neighbour, with a small bag of grocery, seemingly in the same predicament. 

“You too?”

Awkward silence. He slowly turns his head down towards you. You can almost sense his discomfort from the tense body language and the way he is staring down at you. 

“There’s extra storage space on the ground floor. Rubbish collection day is every Monday, remember to take it out. Oh good morning Simon.” your landlord greeted a tall masked man, with a big camo bag who was about to head out the door. He nodded his head towards the two of you, before turning away abruptly.

That was your first meeting with Simon.

After that, he only appears every few weeks, always carrying his Camo bag. Sometimes in his uniform, sometimes already changed into Civilian uniform.  The two of you never spoke a word to each other, nor acknowledged each other. 

“Um. I am your neighbour two doors down?” You shifted uncomfortably, thinking he doesn’t remember you. 

“I know.” 

Another awkwards silence. 

“I don’t think the rain is going to stop for a while.”

“…….” 

Pointing to the cafe next door to the grocery store,“Would you, would you like to um, have a cup of coffee while we wait?” WE? You don’t know why you offered.

“Tea.” 

“Pardon?”

“I drink tea.”  He repeated.

“Oh.” Well, you assume that is a yes. “Let’s.. Let’s go?”

You look out the window, at the rain that is currently bucketing down heavily, showing no signs of stopping. The drumming sound drowning out the chatting voices of the cafe patrons. 

“Not to your taste?”

Simon’s voice snapped you out of the reverie. 

“Sorry?” you blinked, confused at his question. 

He pointed at your coffee. “Not to your taste? Should I get another one for you?”

He has insisted on getting the drinks.

“I am very particular with tea.” He insisted as he gently set the groceries down beside the table. He raised a hand to stop you before you speak. “A cup of coffee isn’t going to break my bank. What would you like?”

You shook your head and quickly took a sip. “Oh nono, I was zoning out…looking at the rain. Listening to the sound.It’s very… calming.” 

He looked out the window, humming. Back to the silence between the two of you.

You took another sip of your coffee, and stole a glance at the brooding man in front of you. 

This is probably the first time you have seen him without any face covering on. 

Not a face of a model, but a pleasing looking face. Long eye lashes, framing those deep brown eyes,  full of sorrow, weariness and… loneliness? 

“What if the rain doesn’t stop?” You break the silence again after a while. 

“Then we wait a bit longer.” 

“Until the cafe closes?” You chuckled.

“Then I’ll walk back to get the car and pick you and the grocery up.” 

You cocked your eyebrow. Although the two of you are neighbours, technically the two of you don't know each other before this. He could have just left you there to your own demise..

“But I don’t think I need to do that. Seems like the rain started to die down. Come on.” Simon drained the last of his tea, donning his mask back on and stood up and picked up his bag of grocery and your bag of rice.

“OH, I can..” 

Before you finish your sentence, he hauls it over his shoulder like a bag of feathers and stares at you. Somehow you know it’s pointless to argue with him so you just pick up your bag of groceries and follow him out of the cafe.

Two of you walked home in silence. 

You couldn’t resist taking a peek at his strong muscles… you mean him. With the first glance he sends people scrambling with his deathly stare. But from his actions today.. You know he’s a man of action.  From the little things he does. Insisting on paying for the coffee. Carrying the heavy bag of rice.

Oh he smells so nice. You also couldn’t help but take a deep breath in as he gently nudged you to the inner side of the walking path and shielded you from all the puddle splashes when the car drove past. 

Smell of fresh pine. Citrus. Freshly cut grass.

Just like after the rain. Your favourite smell since childhood. 

It gives you comfort. And joy. Memories of going for a walk and running around on the field with your family and falling over onto the grass, big patches of mud on your butt while your siblings laugh at you, and your mother shook her head.

“You got the front gate key?” He grumbled, adjusting the bag of rice on his shoulder.

“Ah? Oh. yes. Sorry..” you quickly dug through your bag for the keys and opened it up to let the two of you into the building. 

“Well, Ah, Thank you for your help today.” You said as he put the bags down in front of your door. “ Would you like to come in for a cup of tea… OH.” What the hell are you saying, the two of you just sat in the cafe for more than an hour drinking afternoon tea.

He chuckled. Oh, he sounds nice when he laughs.  “I think we have enough tea and coffee for the afternoon.” 

You nodded your head, embarrassed and somehow disappointed at the rejection. You opened the door and half kicked your groceries in.  

“But maybe next time.” you snapped your head around, he was already walking towards his own door. “If you need people to go grocery with you. I will be happy to if I am home.” 

You blinked your eyes, is..that his way of asking you to go on a .. date but not a date? Or is he just being friendly??

You stood there for a long time mouth gaping, long after he returned to his apartment. 

Simon look down at the little container of home baked biscuits left on his front door step the next morning, and smiled. 

“Just a little thank you for the impromptu afternoon tea and carrying my groceries yesterday. This is my number just in case you want to ask me to go again…”

tag:

@homicidal-slvt

@cumikering

@siilvan

@gamergirlbones

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@nrdmssgs

@writeforfandoms

@devcica

@liyanahelena

@okayyadriana

@clipperfly

@glitterypirateduck

[foreverinadais]

One Call: m.s , j.l , s.g

Summary:  Marc, Jake and Steven, your ex’s, ran into trouble and, as a result, are thrown into jail. At a loss, they ( begrudgingly ) use their only call on you in hopes you will bail them out. 

Pairings: ex!marc spector x reader , ex!jake lockley x reader , ex!steven grant x reader

Warnings: angst (!!!), they’re all readers ex’s, cussing, fluff, forced proximity, tension, jake being a bit of an asshole, *steven being sad* , kinda unhappy ending but there will be another part, this is part of the ex! moon boys x reader series but can be read stand alone, unrequited requited feelings, not being over your ex and vice versa. 

Word Count: 5.8 k

the ex! series: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

You should’ve known it was them the moment your phone started ringing. You had awoken with a start, heart pounding out of your chest at the loud intrusion to your sleep. It took you a brief moment to register what the sound was, the thick layer of sleep still hovering in your mind. But then, the familiarity of the ringtone settled into your brain.

You hardly registered the time- 03:27am- before picking up your phone.

Unknown Number.

The words made you hesitate. But only briefly, for then you were answering. “Hello?” Your voice was croaky from just waking up, and you coughed slightly. There was a small silence. You tried again.

“Hi.” Your heart skipped a beat before dropping through your stomach completely. You recognised the voice immediately.

“M-Marc? Why…” You tried to find the right words to describe this moment; why are you calling me? Do you know what time it is? What the fuck is wrong with you? Instead, you settled with, “Are you okay?” A sigh followed from the other end of the call, and you could just imagine him, eyebrows creased, eyes shut in whatever it was that was silently bothering him.

“Look, ‘m fine, just- need’ya to do something for me.” A favour? You hadn’t seen him in at least two months, the last time being in a grocery store. It had taken you weeks to get the interaction out of your head. Annoyance entered your mind, but you quickly pushed it away.

“What is it?” There was another silence, prompting you to now sigh.

“We’re in trouble.” You flinched, swinging your legs out of bed, heart accelerating.

“Trouble? What kind of trouble? Have you-”

“We aren’t in danger, it’s fine, just…” He seemed to hesitate on his next words, and you were tempted to push him, to make him spit it out so you could settle the thoughts racing through your mind. “We’re in jail.” He grumbled, and you realised the hesitancy was embarrassment.

“Jail?! Why? I mean, how?”

“Don’t have time for questions, okay? Can you just come get us?” It seemed as though he had to be prompted before he added a quiet, “Please?”

You huffed, getting out of bed and slipping off your pyjama shorts. “Fine. Where are you?” He began listing all the information you needed, and you quickly scribbled it down on the back of one of your friend’s wedding invitations. “Okay,” you muttered, finishing putting on your clothes and slipping on some shoes, “ ‘m on my way.”

“Right.” He finished hastily, hanging up. You scoffed, almost expecting something else, at least a ‘thank you’. But you reminded yourself that this was just a favour. That you were the last and only option he had to call. You pushed away the feelings that he was using you. You cant be used if you aren’t wanted in the first place.

You hurried out to your car, ensuring you had all you needed before you began the drive to you ex’s.

“Hi, I’m here to pick up Marc Spector? He got here tonight.”

“And what is your relation to Mr Spector?” You hesitated, spluttering on your words slightly before settling on,

“A friend.” The woman at the desk raised an eyebrow, taking you in before sighing.

“Sign these forms and then take a seat. Your friend will be out shortly.” You smiled awkwardly, picking up the papers and muttering your thanks.

In the rush and the confusion, you had forgotten what picking up Marc entailed. You would be seeing him again. His hair, his face, his eyes. You would be reminded of his smell and his voice and his lips. It had been too long, too hard getting over them. It was your own personal purgatory.

You could hardly remember the lilt in Steven’s voice when he was excitedly telling you about the book he was reading. Or Jake’s stupid jokes, sat in the back of his cab in the early hours of the morning. Or Marc-

You jumped when you heard a small cough in an attempt to pull your attention. You noticed the boots first, and it only took you a moment to avert your gaze upwards. His eyes were so familiar yet so cold. You felt as though you had been pulled under water, had lost your breath for a moment and were fighting to surface.

You took in every detail of his face. Some were familiar; the crease between his eyebrows, the slight downturn of his lips, the small scar on the side of his face. Yet, some things were new. Particularly, the bruise covering his left eye, purpling angrily, and the freshly busted lip. You winced, resisting the urge to reach over and smooth your fingers over his injuries until they hurt less.

“You are free to go. You’re lucky your ‘friend’ bailed you out. Could’ve been a lot worse for you tonight, Mr Spector.” You noticed Marc grit his teeth, biting back the words he truly wanted to say. You were relived when he just nodded. He was out of the door before you could talk. You muttered a small ‘thank you’ to the receptionist before hastily following after him.

“Hey, Marc!” You called, and you couldn’t ignore how unfamiliar his name felt on your tongue. You pushed down the sourness rising in your throat as you could his name again. Marc stopped abruptly, and you noticed his body moving in a sigh. His head cocked to the side slightly as if he were hiding from you.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t you want a ride home?”

“I’ll walk.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll drop you off, I know the way.” The reminder of that fact pained you both, but neither of you showed it. Marc cleared his throat, turning to face you now, but he still averted his gaze.

“Don’t wanna bother you anymore than I already have.”

“We’re past the point of that. Look, it’s fine, I insist.” You could see the dialogue behind Marc’s eyes, the debating and reasoning, before he settled with a small nod and an, ‘Okay.’

The small space of your car left little space between the two of you. You tried to ignore how good he smelt, how nice he looked, even after whatever he had been through tonight. You subtly cracked the window down, just to feel as though you weren’t drowning in him.

Silence settled as you began to drive. It wasn’t exactly awkward, more… uncomfortable. As if you were both about to talk, or scream, or cry at the exact same moment. Marc was set on staring out the window, every now and then his gaze shifting to the rearview mirror, and you could just imagine Steven or Jake’s expression looking back.

You wanted to ask about them. Despite it being a long time since seeing Marc, it had been even longer since seeing the other two. Fuck, your heart ached thinking how close they were to you, yet so far. Marc, too. Suddenly, the overwhelming urge to release everything in your mind overcame you. You couldn’t stay silent, but you didn’t quite know what you wanted to say.

“So…” you started, slowing down as you approached a red light, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Good start. You peeked over at him, but all you saw was his reflection in the window, blurred by the street lights and stars.

“Your face looks pretty bad. I mean, shit, not your whole face, just the bruise.” You didn’t miss the way his lip twitched up as if edging into his signature smirk, but quickly fell again, as if he was reminding himself of the situation.

“ ‘s fine.”

“That’s it?” You wondered aloud, moving as the light changed to green. “Look, I don’t mean to pry, I just, prison is a big deal, Marc. I’m…” You hesitated, hearing the implications of your next words, “worried about you.”

Marc tutted, and you worried you pushed him too far. He was stubborn, after all. “Don’t gotta worry about me anymore, okay? It’s fine, just ran into some trouble after a mission.”

You ignored the way your heart wept at his beginning statement, deciding to see how much you could find out. “After? What, someone sent some bodyguards on you or something?” You noticed his silence, the way his eyes averted down to his lap, and worry filled you once more. “Were you Moon Knight? Or was it you?” The thought of him fighting without his superhero alias inserted a sense of fear into you.

Marc sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and you noticed how pained he looked. “It was Steven.” Oh. Steven? Sweet Steven? You knew he could fight; you’d heard his stories of fighting Harrow and various other things. He was perfectly able. Yet, somehow, you couldn’t picture him fighting. Without the suit, without his alters.

You realised why Marc had been so closed off.

“What happened?” Your voice was quiet, strained.

“Just got back from a mission. It was…” He trailed off, and the sigh told you everything you needed to know. “Steven was fronting, and he was so frustrated. Neither of us could calm him down. We were nearly home but we heard shouting. Screaming. This woman was inside her house as her asshole of a husband was banging on the door. We told Steven not too do anything stupid, to just summon the suit or call the cops, cause he was in such a bad place, y’know?”

You did know, nodding, trying to focus on the empty roads and the story.

“But Steven wanted to help, like he always does. Couldn’t get control of the body as he stormed over. The guy hit him,” He motioned to the bruise, and you winced, “Twice. And then Steven was just… fuck, he was goin’ crazy. Probably would’ve killed the bastard if some drunk guy on the street didn’t pull him off.” Marc’s voice had gotten slightly strained, and you could only imagine the turmoil he would’ve been through, how helpless he would’ve felt. How helpless they all would’ve been.

“B-But… why did you get put in jail?” You hardly had to ask. You knew Marc would do anything, anything, to protect him. But you didn’t know what to else to say.

“Steven snapped out of it. Let me front. I couldn’t let it be under his name, ya know? He has his job; he has a life outside of this shit… It doesn’t matter for me.”

You wanted to say something. You wanted to tell him he was a good person. You wanted to say he did have a life. You wanted to ask to talk to Steven. But then Marc was speaking again.

“The woman, she was grateful, you know, turns out her husband is an abusive piece of shit. But when we were put into the car, I caught sight of the window. There was a kid. Crying. Didn’t know if his dad was dead or what. Steven probably saved the kid’s life, but he doesn’t know that. Steven went after that, can’t feel him or speak to him up there, just… nothing.”

You were at a loss for words. You could feel the pain radiating off of Marc and it made you ache to hold him in your arms and whisper terms of endearments. “I’m sorry.” You didn’t know what you were apologising for, or who you were apologising too. There was so much you wanted to say, but so little ways you could say it.

“Don’t be. He’ll be back. Probably when this bruise is healed, bastard’ll probably avoid havin’ to feel it.” You forced a smile at Marc’s attempt at a joke. But it was all fake. You could read him like a book, even if you had finished the last chapter a while ago. But it didn’t take a genius to see how much he was harbouring.

“Marc… why did you call me?” You didn’t want him to think you were angry; you weren’t. In fact, you were relieved it was you and not anyone else. But you were curious. Out of everyone, why you?

“Your numbers the only one I- we know.” He muttered, and whilst it made sense, you felt a pang of sadness. There was nothing attached to their choice. Nothing present, anyway. It was a convenience.

“I see.”

“Look, I’m sorry I was such a prick earlier. I just didn’t wanna bother you like this, y’know? You don’t need this shit anymore.”

“I don’t mind, Marc. Honestly.”

“But I do. This shouldn’t be your responsibility. You’re too good for this.” He trailed off and your pulse rate quickened. You didn’t know what to say, so you decided silence was acceptable. This time, the silence felt more comfortable. As if you were now used to each other again. You mentally kicked yourself; you couldn’t allow yourself to get used to his presence.

You were driving down a particularly empty street, the prison taking you on the outskirts of the usual busy city life. That, and the fact it was incredibly early in the morning, so early, the sun was still hidden beneath the stars.

You had turned on the radio a while back, letting the music fill the car to disperse some of the tension. You hardly noticed, however, when it started crackling. It was only when the car started slowing down that you took notice of the dashboard. The flashing red light made you curse.

“What?” Marc said, but instantly realised why when the car spluttered to a stop, the radio dying with a whirl. You couldn’t resist the urge to flop onto the steering wheel, letting out a prolonged groan as you realised the situation- you had broken down on an empty road with your ex.

It truly couldn’t be worse.

“Shit.” He muttered, and you agreed, head still on the steering wheel. However, you looked up at the click on the passenger door.

“Where are you going?! Don’t leave me here!” You whined, and Marc rolled his eyes jokingly.

“Not leaving you, just gonna check the car. Just try ‘n call road services or somethin’, yeah? It’ll be okay.”

You nodded, reaching for your phone, nearly crying as you saw the ‘No Signal’.

“Fuck, Marc, I don’t have a signal!” You called out, holding it into the air to no avail. “Marc? I’m coming out.” You opened the door, eyes trained to the phone as you waved it into the air again, a string of curses leaving your lips as the same signal portrayed itself on the screen.

You could see the silhouette of him at the front of the car, figure hidden behind the bonnet. You were shocked he knew even remotely what he was doing. Car’s weren’t his thing.

Oh no.

It finally hit you as he fully came into view. His face was harder, eyebrows drawn together, lips in a tight scowl. You hadn’t seen Jake Lockley in a while. In fact, you hadn’t heard a thing from him. No accidental calls, no awkward run ins. The last time you had seen him, well, you’d been under him.

“Hi.” You started, instantly feeling awkward at your tone. There was no answer. You wondered if maybe, he hadn’t heard you, that maybe he was so wrapped up in the car that he was oblivious to anything else. So, you tried again, this time adding a small, “Jake?”

You heard him sigh, followed by a frustrated, “hm?”

Oh.

“How’s it looking?”

“Fine.” Confusion filled you at his tone. He was being short. It was clear he didn’t want to talk to you, and you couldn’t ignore the hurt it made you feel.

“Well, it clearly isn’t fine if it broke down.” You snapped; you couldn’t help it.

“ ‘k, then it isn’t fine. Lemme concentrate, bueno?” Okay. You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around your body.

“Is there anything I can do-”

“No.” Anger flared in your blood. You couldn’t understand why he was acting so nonchalant, so infuriating.  

You suddenly missed Marc.

Without another word, you stormed back to the car, making a point of shutting the door so the bonnet rattled. You could practically hear the roll of his eyes, and it provided you with some solace.

He was out there for another 15 minutes. You wondered if it would even be him to front back at the car, and a big part of you hoped it wasn’t. You knew by the sharp tap on your window that it was, indeed, Jake.

You opened the door, trying to appear calm. “C’mere, have to test the engine.”

“I could do that.”

“I will, I know what ‘m doing.”

“And I don’t?”

“C’mon, relajarse. Relax. Let me.” Maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was the way his eyes were suddenly looking into yours from above, but you complied, rolling your eyes as you did so. Jake muttered something in Spanish that you didn’t catch, but you thought that was probably for the best.

You watched begrudgingly as he tried the engine once, twice, before the familiar roar of your car rumbled through the night. You expected him to get out, let you back in the drivers side, but much to your annoyance, he didn’t.

Instead, he motioned for you to get in. You wanted to complain but decided if he wanted to put in the effort of driving, whatever. You were tired anyway.

There was a different atmosphere than when Marc was fronting, and it was evident from the second you sat down. The atmosphere was tense, and the small space of the car felt suffocating, even with the window cracked down.

There was something about Jake, something utterly intoxicating, that pulled you under every time you even thought about him, let alone being in his presence. The implications that came with merely seeing his face made your brain cloudy and heart jittery.

How could you ever truly move on?

You tried not to let the thought in as you trained your eyes out the window, watching the trees and bushes blur into one green smudge. But it was corrupting your thoughts, infiltrating your defence systems.

You snuck a peek over at Jake. You were surprised he had even stuck around this long. A part of you expected him to stop fronting, render control to Marc as soon as he had fixed the car. The question was leaving your lips before you could even process you were speaking’ “Why are you still here, Jake?”

His jaw ticked, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “He wants me to stay.”

“Marc?” And he nodded. “You don’t…” You began but cut yourself off with a sad sigh. Jake didn’t want to be fronting with you and Marc didn’t want to swap back.

“I don’t…?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Jake wanted to push but receded back into his silence. You didn’t miss the way his hands tightened around the steering wheel. You imagined Marc was pushing him to say something, but he didn’t.

He didn’t for a while.

You had adjusted to the silence, accepted that this would be how this night would end. The night sky had become lighter, the sun just beginning to peek out from beneath the horizon. You couldn’t quite believe it was nearly morning. You resisted the urge to yawn, covering your mouth slightly.

“Tired?” His voice shocked you slightly, but you hid it, raising an eyebrow in answer. “That was- of course, you’re tired, Soy un idiota. I’m an idiot.” You smiled slightly, shaking your head.

“You must be tired, too.” He shrugged.

“Who’s wedding?”

“Hm?” He took his eyes off his road for a split second to nod toward the crumpled invitation you had hastily scribbled the address down. “Oh, ‘s a friend’s. Next month.”

“Yeah? Do I know ‘em?” You shook your head.

“It’s a new friend.” He didn’t know everyone in your life anymore.

“I see.” You could tell he was pondering something by the way he was nodding slightly, tapping the steering wheel in succession to invisible music. “You got a plus one?” You couldn’t hide the shock on your face.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” he replied too fast, “Just wonderin’.” You kept your eyes on him for a moment, gaze hard, but you felt a playfulness fill you.

“I was thinking of inviting this guy from work,” His jaw clenched, “But I want to keep my options open, you know?” He hummed, lips twisting up in a smirk.

“That’s what I do.” You had started it, the playful toying, the ploy to make him jealous, but the insulation they had options made your stomach turn. You reminded yourself he wasn’t yours to be jealous about.

“It’s fun having options. It’s freeing.” It wasn’t. Since them, you had gone on a handful of dates and all of them ended with awkward conversation and blocked numbers. But it was worth saying to see his smirk falter.

“As long as you’re happy.” Happy was perhaps an overstatement. You shrugged. “You are happy, aren’t you?” You hesitated. It was easy to say yes. It was easy to end the conversation here, as the car was nearing their flat.

“I’m getting through.” That struck him. All he cared about, still, was your happiness…no, he couldn’t, not anymore. You recognised the road instantly, knew the flat was close. God, even the street felt like home. Like you were travelling back through the trails in your memory. If you shut your eyes, you could imagine you were back in their bed. You can feel the sun on your skin through the cracks in their curtains. You can hear the car horns from a traffic altercation. You can feel their heart beating underneath your head. Nothing bad has happened.

“Hogar dulce hogar; home sweet home.” But not for you.

He parked and turned the engine off. You listened as it died down to silence. This was it.

“So this was…” You tried to find a word to quite describe the night, but settled on, “strange.”

He chuckled and it was addictive. “You could say that.” He unclicked his seatbelt and settled back in the seat for a moment. Like he belonged in your car with you. “Listen, thank you for all this. Gracias.”

“Jake… why didn’t you want to front earlier?” He sighed deeply, and you were worried you had overstepped.

“ ‘s too much. Being around you again, fuck, just brings it all back, ‘s all, Carino.” The term of endearment slipped out, but it was too late, the damage was done. “I should go. Thank you again.” He muttered, wiping his hands on his trousers, making a move to leave.

“Brings what back?” He paused.

“Everything.” He felt it, too. You were surprised to see him already looking at you. Your eyes met but this time, you didn’t look away. It felt all too familiar to be looking into his eyes. And then, his eyes were rolling back. You didn’t have time to comprehend what was happening before he was there.

His eyes held a softness unlike any you had ever seen in your life. You could recognise it from anywhere, but only from him. His body instantly slouched, his eyes whipping away from yours.

Steven. Sweet, sweet Steven.

His hands began to tremble as he raised them in front of his face, looking at the swelling of his knuckles, at the bruises forming on his skin. “I-I-“ He began to stutter, turning to look at himself in the reflection of the glass before abruptly looking away. “I did something bad.”

“Steven-” He jumped as if he hadn’t quite comprehended it was you sat there. He hadn’t heard his name from your voice in too long and it made his heart quiver.

“I-It was like I just lost control, y’know? I don’t- I blacked out for a minute and then there was sirens and Marc-” He cut himself off with a gasp and you felt tears fill your eyes. “Oh goodness, what have I done? I’m terrible, aren’t I?”

“No, Steven, you’re not-” you began but he was already talking again.

“And now you had to come clean up my mess. ‘S not fair, how could I do this to you? After everything, fuck, you don’t need this. You don’t need me anymore.” You were at a loss for words. You did need him. You needed him like you needed air to breathe. You needed him like you needed books to read. You needed him in a way you couldn’t even begin to comprehend, especially since you had lost him. Had lost all of them.

“Listen-”

“There was a kid, y’know? I saw him, in the window. He must’ve thought that I… that I…” And then, he was crying, body shaking in sobs. You broke then, the need to hold him too much, too strong. He melted into your arms, clutching at the back of your shirt as you held him in your arms. He buried his face in your shoulder, and you could feel his tears soaking your skin, but you didn’t mind, not one bit.

You ran your hands over his back, whispering whatever comfort you could string together. Your hands trailed the hairs climbing the back of his neck like you had a million times before, hoping it would provide something that would help, some solace that words couldn’t give. “You did the right thing, Steven.” You whispered as you felt his breathing begin to slow down. His hands became limp on your shirt, instead opting to hold you as tightly as you were holding him. “You always do the right thing.”

“What if ‘m a bad person?” He quivered, voice barely above a croaky whisper. You swallowed harshly, feeling tears sting your eyes at one of the people you cared about most thinking so lowly of himself.

“No, Steven, of course not. You’re… you’re one of the best people I’ve ever know? The best of the best, okay?” He sniffled, and you gently eased his face up, so he was looking at you. “You are a good person, Steven Grant.” You looked into each-others eyes for a while. There was no ounce of awkwardness, no trace of tension. The comfort it brought to see those eyes again was more than any drug, any romcom could ever provide.  

You studied his features. Soft, teary eyes, bloodshot and scared, but swirling with adoration and care. The tension between his eyebrows was gone, replaced instead with a smooth, vulnerable expression. But most of all, you noticed the bruises. Unlike with Marc, you didn’t resist the urge to run featherlight touches around them, hoping it would help him heal faster. Somehow, even in this state, he looked angelic. In fact, you had never seen him look bad. Because Steven was good. “ ‘m sorry.” He suddenly broke the silence, instantly looking away from you as if talking to you was too much. 

You looked at him confused, running a hand through his hair in encouragement as you whispered a small, “For what?”

“My fault you’re here right now. ‘m sure you have a trillion other things you’d rather be doin’ than sitting here with a sorry sod like me.” You smiled, shaking your head.

“If you think lying in my flat whilst my upstairs neighbours shag is something I’d rather be doing, you’re greatly mistaken.” You felt him smile against your neck and you resisted the urge to press a kiss to his forehead. 

“Still, must be better than seeing us.” You shook your head, though he couldn’t see you.

I’ve missed you like crazy. I would do anything to see you, anything. Come back to me. Please. 

You settled on, “I’ll always be here to help.” Neither of you said much after that. Not for a while. You were so comfortable, unnervingly so, with Steven holding you, your hands in his hair. It was so intimate, more intimate than anything you’ve had since the break-up. You quickly realised you craved it. That this was the missing piece in your life, that they were the missing pieces. 

The sun was breaking through the dark now, a light pink casting a warm glow onto the dull streets. That was what he felt like, you thought. He was the sunrise. You felt yourself drifting off and caught yourself, realising the time in the car had to come to an end. You didn’t want too, but you shifted, and Steven lifted his head, rubbing his eyes slightly. 

“Should probably get you to bed, you must be exhausted.” You muttered to him, forcing your hands to untangle from his curls. He nodded, sitting up and you instantly missed the weight and warmth of him on top of you.

“ ‘kay.” You stretched slightly, feeling tiredness settle in your bones but you pushed it away. Steven took in the beginning of the sunrise, and you noticed his lips twitch up in wonder. He was the type of person to get excited at every sunrise, every sunset, every odd-shaped cloud; no matter how many times he’d seen it. He found the beauty in everything. It was one of the things you loved about him. Loved.

“So, just lemme know if you need anything, you can message me. Do you still have my number? I can write it down, or not, whatever you want-”

“You aren’t coming in with me?”

“Oh, ‘m sorry, I didn’t realise you’d want me too.” 

“Yes, please. If you want too.” You paused. Seeing their flat? Being in that space again? The thought made your heart flutter and stomach churn. But you nodded, deciding he needed your help more tha your heart needed peace. The steps up to their flat was so familiar, you could do it with your eyes closed. You knew every bump, every turn, every creaky floorboard. You were at the door before you knew it, and Steven was jingling the keys in the lock. 

“Sorry about the mess.” He said, and you smiled.

It was messy, yes, but messy in the way that felt exactly like home. It smelled the same. It looked the same, apart from the new curtains you were sure Steven had picked out. You felt like you were unlocking a piece of your heart with every step you took. You spotted his desk, piled with all sorts of Ancient History books, papers of various missions they’d been on, and Steven’s new name badge with the words, ‘Tour Guide’ formally placed underneath. You let your fingers trace it, a grin breaking out onto your face. 

“Congratulations.” You said, holding it up so Steven could see what you were talking about. He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, yeah. Thank you.”

“How’s it going?”

“It’s… wonderful. I love it. Donna quit, and the new manager, Kathy, she promoted me.” 

“That’s amazing, Steven, truly. ‘m so proud of you, you deserve it.” You couldn’t stop the praise, and you watched his cheeks tint in a blush. 

“You always said I could do it.” He said, and you nodded. “You always believed in me.” You always would.

“It’s cause I knew you could. It’s all down to you.” You stayed smiling at each other for a moment before Steven yawned. You shook your head, putting his name badge down and clasping your hands together. 

“Let’s get you to sleep.” He chuckled, nodding and rubbing his eyes. Steven went to the bathroom as you set up his bed, plumping his pillows and straightening his duvet. You ignored the ache in your heart at the sight of your side of the bed, lingering your hands on the pillow as you remembered all the times you had been in their bed. You broke from it at the sound of the bathroom door unlocking. 

He came out dressed in his pj bottoms and a jumper. He took note of his now tidy bed and smiled, wanting nothing more than to lay you down and hold you. He didn’t say much as he got into bed, tucking himself under the covers and sighing deeply. You didn’t know where to look, where to stand. You figured you could leave when he got into bed. You only shifted slightly when Steven grabbed your hand gently, tugging you toward him.

“Stay with me?” He whispered so quietly; you almost didn’t catch it. You felt a lump rise in your throat. You didn’t even have to ponder it as you nodded, slipping into the side of the bed, your side, next to him. He turned over, facing away from you as you swung an arm over waist. You felt his muscles untense as he grabbed your hands to the front of him, stroking the skin softly. You rested your cheek against his back, nuzzling the skin to provide as much comfort as you could.

“Thank you for taking care ‘f me.” He whispered tiredly, on the cusp of sleep. You tried to stop your eyes watering, a single tear slipping out which you quickly wiped away.

“Thank you for letting me.” His grip on your hands loosened and his breathing became heavy in a way you recognised instantly; he was asleep. You pulled your hands out from him, careful not to make too much movement. The bed creaked as you rolled out, but he didn’t even flinch. You straightened out the sheets, reshaped the pillow. You thought about him. And then about Marc, and Jake. What they meant to you, still, and what you feared they always would.

You couldn’t help but look at him one last time. He looked at peace, finally, like an angel. You couldn’t resist the urge anymore, leaning down to place a soft kiss to his forehead. “Goodbye, Steven.” You whispered, stroking his hair before making your way out of their flat.

The sun had risen completely now, gold cascading over the buildings. A new day. You turned one more time. You wished you could reverse time, go back to when you were happy and at peace with them. But, alas, that was impossible. So, with your heart yearning, and your stomach turning, you left.

You awoke in the late afternoon, thoughts plagued with the events from the night. As hard as it was, you hadn’t wanted it to end. You had never been happier than when you were with them. The thought haunted you. You turned, stretching deeply as your limbs refused to move too much. With a sigh, you reached over for your phone. You scrolled through your notifications, not paying too much mind, until you saw the familiar number beaming on the screen.

You sat up instantly, clicking on the message and reading it:

Thank you for everything. 

You didn’t know which of your boys had sent it, and you didn’t care. You held the phone to your heart, trying to absorb the remnants you had left of them. And whilst it was just a message, you couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of hope. Perhaps this wasn’t it. Perhaps they felt it too. 

You smiled, shutting your eyes, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. Finally- a new day. 

tags: @daddyjackfrost @rmoonstoner @midgardian-witch @dalia-12-3 @kotonei-molyneux @lovepeaceorelse @lokilover476​ (please do let me know if you don’t want to be on this taglist, it is quite old now so feel free to message me and i’ll remove you!!!)​