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blingblong55 · 4 months

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No Judgement- Simon "Ghost" Riley

---- F!Reader, fluff, dad!Ghost, husband!Ghost, mentions of dad-bod!Ghost ----

A/N: I've been having baby fever for about a week now and recently saw a tiktok and…it made me emotional for some reason so…here's this piece I wrote

Simon was the man who saw himself living in war and dying in it and then you came into his life. For some reason only he knows, he found himself being more careful during missions. Before you, he would rush into a room without care and now, he is more cautious. All because he wants to make it home, to a warm and cosy house. To your arms and loving kisses and to those three kids he swears he'll forever love.

You dated him for 2 years before he knew that you were it for him. Two years and five months, that is what took him to get on his knee and ask you to marry him. Oh if only Tommy was here to see this, that laugh he would have. Before you, Simon didn't show much emotions, besides anger or that cold and rude one he presented himself with. Now, all he can do is talk and talk about all he feels and most of the time, he shows that love and raw emotion through actions.

He didn't cry before you either, except for when his family died but when he saw you walk down the aisle, he couldn't contain the tears. Soap patted his back without judgement for he knew the girl walking to the groom was the one who made the crying groom's heart beat once again. Three years into the marriage, you become pregnant with your first child, a son and oh was Simon delighted.

He was prepared for it all, took courses, read books and made sure the home was baby proof of course, you took the role of being the princess, not a finger lift from you or he would pretend to get upset at it. He needed to protect you, even from the corners of the table, which he of course made sure were ready in case you or the kid would bump into them.

One baby and a puppy later, Simon Riley was a father and for the first two years, he took leave from the military and focused on you and the baby. His eyes are like his father and his energy is just like his. There were days when Simon cried, from sadness and happiness. For one, he was sad his mother didn't get to meet his son and he was happy that for the first time in so long, he knew what a family was like. Lazy Saturdays and Sundays, laying under a tree in the back yard, the grass all nice and soft so the baby would learn to crawl and eventually walk. The puppy watching with the guard, just in case the baby fell.

Simon was always there, for motivation, protection and love. He wanted to ensure that he wouldn't fuck up with this life of his. Soon enough though, he went back to work but he made sure to always have his family in mind. The giggles, the lullabies, smiles and that sweet emotion he had when he watched you and his son. It was bittersweet but so beautiful.

The birth of your second son came as no surprise when Simon once walked to you, shirtless and holding his son with one arm. For some reason that sight alone provoked you to want a second child, which as the loving husband Simon is, he obliged. Nearly ten months and he was by your side, holding your hand, letting you grip it and cry as your second little one came into the world. That cute nose and that smile, what a delight to be a mother to a whole new little light of life.

The holidays became more chaotic as the two boys grew up. Simon slowly left the military, doing fewer missions and being home more often. He began to grow a soft tummy and muscles, something he grew to be insecure about but with plenty of hours of cuddling one night and many kisses that included sweet nothings to his ear, he loved this new him. He wasn't his father but rather the best dad those two little monsters could ever ask for. His beard grew a little and you began to love this sight of him, it was beautiful really. So much so, that one day, as he was doing push-ups with his sons on his back and how they giggled, you teared up.

Making a home was easy but making a happy family was hard and rewarding. Before you knew it, Simon was carrying the kids around the living room, letting them beat him in a playful game of fighting and tag. The giggles around the house, the way Simon smiled like he had entered heaven, that is what made you tear up the most. This is home.

During the holidays, Simon gets so excited that he overdoes it all. He dresses like Santa Claus, eats the biscuits, drinks milk and even gets a treat from the woman of the house. A sneaky little kiss before Santa has to leave for other homes. "I've heard the woman who lives here is the most beautiful, maybe she'll kiss me as a little treat?" He smiles, pleading with those eyes of his. And who could you be to deny him of a sweet kiss?

For the first 5 years of being a proud dad to his two sons, Simon would wear matching outfits with them. It was sweet, watching him get excited like a child, trying to dress his sons up and take them for a walk.

There is one thing he was always making sure would be a rule at home and that is how they treated you. No son of his would be discarding a woman, no son of his would be disrespectful and no son of his would not see how much it takes being a mum and one who works and keeps a home clean and steady. And you bet he taught his sons how to clean and cook later in life.

One warm Spring day came in when you told him the news. Baby number three would be on her merry way. Just like before but with some slight changes, he spoke to your belly. He kissed it, read to it and told his jokes to it. His warm hands are placed on your soft belly when he looks up at you, "Thank you," his eyes are watery and you tilt your head just a bit. "For what?" you ask.

"For giving me a family, for making a home with me. Lovie, before you, I was truly nothing, just a man in a borrowed body and now, I have reason to own this old body of mine. I'm a husband and a dad, I love you," he kisses you and then your belly.

After the birth of your daughter, he like your two sons carried her in a camouflage carrier. A pink bow is one of the little patches. 'Baby girl Riley' is one of those patches as well.

As time went on, he transformed into a retired military officer. Now, he is a full-time dad. Night shifts and diaper changes were his duty as well as your comfort. With more time, he had a softer tummy, his dad bod making him insecure some days but as always, you were there to reassure him it was normal and it was beautiful.

There have been moments when you catch yourself being mesmerised by him.

For instance, when he plays dolls with your daughter or he gets into his role of the cashier when playing grocery. His sass when your daughter doesn't hurry up paying with her card or cash and how he calls her sweetheart any time she pays. There was one time when you saw him sat down on the sofa, watching telly all as your daughter did his makeup, hair and how she gossips with him and he gossips back. By the end of the day, he asks you to undo the tiny rubber bands from his hair.

Before he retired, you found him sitting by his desk, toys all over it as he wrote a report, played and gave his attention to his sons and this was because you were tired and he wanted to give you extra hours of sleep.

He became a football coach for your son's team, every Saturday he was on that field, whistling and shouting for when they make a goal. Of course, you and your daughter sat on the bleachers, eating snacks and cheering for the young footballer of your son. Simon of course would have dark cargo jeans and in most pockets, he had snacks for all his kids. "Daddy, mummy says you have my gummies," his youngest son would softly say and Simon would just pat his bottom pocket and his son would soon take out his gummies.

As his daughter grows old, it's his dad duty to not allow his daughter to date some idiot so, he makes sure to take her on dates, bring her flowers and make her understand how a man should treat her. When he and his two sons go to a different city for some sporting event, he comes back with two bouquets, one for you and one for his princess.

Since he didn't have a stable childhood, Simon, during winter buys everyone matching pyjamas. It just makes things 110% better in his opinion and who can deny a man with easy needs such a cute need? Never you, certainly.

By the time he reaches forty-three, Simon has his entire camera roll filled with pictures of his beautiful family and the occasional picture of a bird he thinks the kids would like to see.

Now, as you lay in bed with him, he turns to you, "I think I have lived this life to its fullest, lovie," he smiles and caresses your face. "Hm, yeah?" you lean into his touch and he nods like a little kid. "I mean, I have three amazing monsters, I am getting to see past thirty and I have always wanted a hot and funny wife, so I know for a fact that I have lived the best of it," he kisses your hand and holds it as he falls asleep.

A/N: Sometimes, I want a husband, a picket fence and lazy weekends with our kids bursting through the door in the morning and feeling like I made it in life…anyway…bye!

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chronicowboy · 1 month

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His breakup with Marisol is about as unremarkable as the rest of their relationship. There's no catastrophic muffin mess in his kitchen or divorce papers. Just a quiet I don't think this is working out, I'm sorry. Marisol hadn't even cried. She'd just nodded like she'd been waiting for it and left, didn't even need to grab anything from the house before she went and really that just reassured Eddie that this was the right choice.

So, his breakup with Marisol is unremarkable, except that it's not. It's pretty fucking remarkable when he thinks about it because it's not just that they weren't working out, not just that he really didn't care about spending time with her, not just the clench in his gut every time she touched him. No. It's pretty fucking remarkable because he realises he's in love with his best friend.

That's what pushes him over the edge, gives him the last kick he needs to actually break things off with her. Because Eddie may have sworn himself to secrecy about it the moment he realised, but he could never string someone along just because he couldn't have the real someone he wanted.

It's a fucking revelation once he has it. Not a ton of bricks, but the sun peeking out from behind the clouds on the greyest of days, bright and blinding. And the way Eddie has always thought of Buck in terms of sunshine maybe should have tipped him off sooner, but with the way Buck has been beaming over the past few weeks. Well. Eddie doesn't really think he can be blamed for only just taking his sunglasses off and daring to look directly at the light.

And, okay, so Eddie maybe makes it a full week before he decides his self-sworn secrecy absolutely is not a viable option when Buck walks through life now like a drop of sunshine in human form. It's after Buck leaves the Diaz house, walking out from a day of giggles and joy at the go-kart track they'd finally managed to convince Chris to be seen with them at, leaving behind a cosy heat like sun-warmed skin, that Eddie realises he cannot go another day without telling Buck that he's desperately, deeply in love with him.

And so, that's how Eddie finds himself at Buck's door on a random Sunday morning, knocking for the first time since Natalia waltzed out of the picture. Buck opens it a few moments later looking perfectly sleep-rumpled and soft and downright golden where he's backlit by the early morning sunlight pooling in the loft.

"Eddie," Buck breathes out, eyes darting up the stairs before refocusing on Eddie and what must be the most hopelessly lovesick expression painted across his face. "H-hey, what are you doing here?"

"I, um." Eddie takes a deep breath, suddenly nervous, and wipes his clammy palms on his jeans. "I wanted to talk to you about something. Now a good time?" And Buck must hear the slightly shaky steel in his voice because the surprise on his face morphs into a concern so quintessentially Buck that Eddie just wants to kiss it away.

"Y-yeah, of course, come on in." Buck holds the door open for him, and Eddie migrates to the fridge as Buck closes the door with the gentlest touch. "So, um, what's up?"

"I..." Eddie swallows against the heart in his throat, loses himself in the shining blue of Buck's eyes like an ocean he'd be more than happy to drown in. "I broke up with Marisol last week."

"Oh, Eddie." Buck slumps, and Eddie tries not to think that it looks a little like relief. "I'm so sorry, man. That sucks."

"No, no." Eddie waves him off with a laugh. "It's good. Was a long time coming actually." He shakes his head at himself. "I think I was dating her just to tick a box, you know? Realised you probably shouldn't be more excited about a phone call from your new buddy than one from your kinda long-term girlfriend. You definitely shouldn't be relieved when you see your best friend in the restaurant you're taking her to and disappointed when you realise he's just leaving."

And then, Buck blushes, ducks his head, does that little smile that could light up every house on South Bedford Street just like Eddie had been hoping for.

"Yeah." Buck looks up at him from under his lashes. "Probably not."

It bolsters Eddie. Buck's sunshine giving him that one last push he needs.

"There was something else I wanted to say," Eddie starts. And there isn't really any fear in him, knows they'll make it through this no matter what, just an overwhelming sense of peace to come. "I..." A deep breath, gathering all his love and devotion in his lungs so it's ready to pour out on his next inhale and—

A groan from upstairs has the words dying in his throat. A masculine groan. And then:

"Evan?"

"D-down here," Buck calls back.

Eddie can't take his eyes off the loft, stuck there like a car crash he can't look away from as a very shirtless Tommy Kinard appears at the top of the stairs and quickly blanches.

"Shit. Um..." He looks down at Buck in a panic.

Eddie finally manages to drag his eyes away from the very chiselled curveball that just hit him at a hundred miles per hour and finds Buck's face. Small, scared, shaken. He knows the feeling. And because he loves Buck, because of just how deeply he loves Buck, it's the easiest thing in the world to lock that love away and let his face crack into the most genuine of grins. Because if Tommy's been the thing making Buck shine like every fucking star in the sky, well Eddie will absolutely not be getting between them.

"You've been so happy," Eddie chokes out, still smiling.

"I have," Buck whispers.

"And I'm so happy for you." Eddie covers the distance between them in three long strides and pulls Buck into a hug so tight and clinging he's sure it's a confession in and of itself, but Buck only buries in deeper, taking shaky little breaths in the crook of Eddie's neck.

"Thank you," Buck murmurs into his skin. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut against the sudden rush of tears.

"Sorry you didn't get to tell me on your own terms," he murmurs back, letting Buck pull away, but lingering with a hand on his hip, on his shoulder. He should maybe be worried about what this could look like to Tommy who had basically never heard anything apart from rambles about Buck, except when he glances up the stairs, Tommy is nowhere to be seen.

"I was going to tell you," Buck rushes out. "I-I just wasn't sure how."

"That's okay," Eddie says. It's okay. It's okay. "Well, I'll stop gate-crashing for the... Second time?" He raises an eyebrow, and Buck flushes a pink Eddie will never ever get to taste. "Yeah, okay. That makes sense." He remembers the pure fear on Buck's face, the indecision on Tommy's and the sudden tightening of his own chest despite his smile. "I'll leave you guys to it." He clears his throat. "Kinard, if you hurt him, they'll never find your body," he shouts up the stairs.

"Copy that, Diaz," Tommy shouts back.

"I'm really proud of you, Buck." Eddie wraps him in another hug then, a quick thing, just one last touch before Eddie seals every desire away for good.

"Thanks, Eddie." Buck walks him to the door, eyes glistening with unshed tears, and Eddie wants to hug him again. Wants so badly it hurts. But if he hugs Buck again, he doesn't think he'll ever let go. "See you at work tomorrow."

"See you at work." Eddie prays Buck is too distracted to hear the wobble in his voice.

"Wait, sorry, what did you want to talk about?"

Eddie freezes on the threshold, the stutter of his heart painful like he's back in a suit store, and he catches himself on the doorframe with a shaking hand.

"It can wait."

#sami rambles #sami? writing? who is she?#anyway i wrote this in the 15 minutes i had before i had to leave this morning so it's bad #but i couldn't get the idea out of my head so.#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buck x eddie #buddie #911 spec #tommy kinard #911 fic #911 ficlet #buck x tommy #bucktommy #buddie ficlet #911 spec fic #<- not really but technically i guess. idk just to be safe and sure.

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suguruplsr · 4 months

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“IM THE WEEKEND”

— slimy men who fuck young women. who cares about the ring on their finger? surely not them. it’s just a one time thing.. every week.

w/ geto suguru, kong shiu, fushiguro toji

,, x black fem!reader , infidelity , warnings by the names <3

“You take Wednesday, Thursday

Then just send him my way

Think I got it covered for the weekend” — SZA, The Weekend

Friday w/ Suguru

— face riding , use of pet names

sweet lies in exchange for an even sweeter pussy. that’s all there is to it, suguru thinks. telling his wife he works later on fridays, “to get more work done”, only to get home in the depths of early morning. walking past the food left out on the table for him and preparing for a long shower to, hopefully, wash off all the markings on his back.

but he can’t care all too much about his infidelity when he’s pulled into the threshold of your house. talks about your day disappearing between your lips when he’s pushed onto the cushion of your couch. and it wasn’t long until he was in his favorite place. underneath you. big brown thighs wrapped around his face with a hand tugging his hair.

“s’so good sugu..” you whine, biting your lip softly as suguru’s tongue traverses along your folds. the muscle was finding discoveries of the world of your pussy with the way he flicks it. “yea? keep movin’ baby.” suguru groans, his hand around your thigh moving up to your waist, squeezing the plush and guiding you to move your hips in rotation. “o-okay.. kinda tired.” you steady yourself, moving your hand from his hair, pressing the brown cushion as you slowly begin to move your hips in the way he guides you. suguru kisses your clit before pressing his tongue flat to your folds, letting you get off onto it on your own with his eyes closed in content. the gummy lips push against his pink muscle, his tongue slipping between the folds and gaining the taste of your juices. his dick twitches inside his business slacks, the pure taste of your ready cunt has him eager for what’s to come.

pun intended <3

Saturday w/ Shiu

— public sex (light) , use of pet names

partying with his friends might’ve become an overused excuse for shiu. considering the constant dings of his phone and the way his wife would let out an exaggerated sigh when he mentions the “scheduled” get together. but he’s too lazy to think up something new when he knows she’s sleeping with his co-worker. it’s fine as long as he gets to keep seeing the cute pastry girl down the street. the same woman he has bent over the counter of her own establishment. last customer perks of course.

you grip the wooden counter tightly, fingers surely to cramp later, as shiu holds onto your waist, fucking you into the table with harsh thrusts, but not enough to knock down the props of food that sat on it “s-slow down! someone might see!” you cry out, looking at the glass windows that would clearly display your shameless act to passersby, who you hope won’t look in. “not sure that’s g’nna change anything sweetheart. dont’cha got a sign up? we’ll be fineeee.” shiu drawls, not caring too much for your worries and admiring the skin of your back. your melanin glowed under the yellow lights, adorned with pretty yellow panties that were hidden under your cute green ruffle dress that had long fallen to the floor.

he switches to a slower pace, his dick sliding through you sluggishly to feel every ridge within you that would surely get ruined. you huffed, bringing a hand behind you, feeling the skin of his stomach and pushing, “nuh uh! please? we can just go in the back..” you’re reduced to a deep sigh as he fills you up to the hilt with his cock, a low “thoughtful” hum leaving him while he massages your plump ass with one hand, the other gripping your wrist.

“shh, the quicker you cum, the faster we’ll leave. be good f’me and take it like you always do.”

Sunday w/ Toji

— hair gripping , face fucking , use of pet names , teacher x parent , reader wears glasses (like me!)

Toji can’t care too much to give a fuck about his wife’s yelling when she sees the random pairs of panties and bras around his house. not like he actually wants to be with her. just a few more months with that tramp, then his family will be off his back about marriage. until then, he’ll keep messing around with megumi’s teacher, she’s a good woman. especially on her knees..

“y’know.. gumi was reallyyy bummed about that score friday, m’sure a sweet thing like you could just bump up his grade.” toji snickers, watching you roll your eyes, fed up with his weekly saying. but no doubt about it, his son’s a perfectionist. way different from his father. toji unconsciously licks his lips as you kiss the tip of his dick before you're forced to take it between those glossy lips of yours, his large hand holding your box braids into a ponytail, carefully of course.

his pockets are not in shape for another $300 withdraw.

“mm mm, can’t—“ you try to speak with the girth in your mouth, glasses tilting down your nose as he eased himself into the wet cavern of your mouth. eventually, your eyes start to water with the strain, closing them tight. “relax y’r throat sweetie — that’s a good girl.” toji grins, taking away the eye glasses, closing them and placing them on your desk. spit and saliva leave a nice sheen along his cock as he begins to fuck your face. “now what was that? riight, the grade, i’m sure you’ll re-think it after i cum down this fuckin’ throat.”

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italiansteebie · 1 year

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Somehow, Steve is behind on every pop culture reference of this century, even with all the children he babysits.

That's why when Eddie Munson walks into the coffee shop he works at, he has no idea who he is and why he’s whispering. He almost wants to yell at him to speak up, but the way the guy is pulling his hat down over his face, sunglasses planted firmly on his nose, Steve can’t help but to wonder if he’s okay. If maybe he’s trying to avoid someone.

So before he can order, Steve leans in asking softly, “Hey are you okay? Is it someone in the shop you’re hiding from? Because I can kick them out.” His protective streak apparently extends beyond his kids. The guy seems to brighten at this, “I'm okay, honest. Just trying to stay out of the spotlight.” There’s something in his tone of voice that is more serious than it should be, but Steve continues on with the transaction.

It’s pretty dead in the shop, so Steve decides to strike up a conversation. “You new in town?”

“I- What?”

“Oh sorry. I just- usually only regulars come in on Sundays. I was just wondering if you've moved here recently or if… I don’t know, you're visiting or something?” Steve finishes awkwardly. And the guy lets out the most angelic laugh, Steve thinks he’s in love.

“I’m just visiting.”

Steve gets the feeling this guy doesn’t want to talk, so he moves to finish his drink. Handing it to him with a “Well, I’m here if you need someone to show you around!” and a smile, with his instagram handle written in bold, black ink on the side. The beautiful guy smiles at him, more genuine than it had been before, and turns to walk away.

“Wait! What’s your name?”

Beautiful man arches his eyebrow again, and shakes his head, a small smile gracing his lips.

“Eddie.”

And with that he leaves, and Steve is left starstruck for the rest of the day.

It’s not long before Steve sees Eddie again, in fact he’s there the next morning. Waiting by the counter with his hat and sunglasses planted on. Steve wonders if maybe they’d been glued to his face in some sort of prank. Seems unlikely though.

Eddie approaches the counter, and before he can order Steve leans in, “I was serious yesterday, if there’s someone around here bothering you let me know. It just- seems like you’re uncomfortable or something.” And that beautiful smile graces Eddie’s lips again.

“I’m okay, really. It’s just. A lot of people know me and I don’t… I just want a normal morning at a coffee shop, y‘know?” Steve shrugs, “I can’t say I do, but If you want to talk I’m all ears. Well- Not now of course,” He laughs, “I'm on the clock, but I get out at noon?” He suggests. And who can blame him, there's a beautiful man right in front of him and he’s only human. Of course he’s going to flirt.

It seems to work too because Eddie agrees and shortly after there's a phone number written on his arm, with weirdly strict instructions to not share it with any one.

—

It’s noon, and Steve’s expecting to pull up to a house, but the GPS leads him to a rather nice hotel. One more expensive than he could afford even for one night. He spots Eddie waiting in the lobby, waving at him, signature hat and glasses still on.

“Hey, I decided to meet you down here. I don’t think they’d let you up without me.”

And Steve just smiles and nods, happy to be hanging out with Eddie outside of a place of business.

Once they reach Eddie’s room, Steve trails in slowly behind him, almost in before there's a firm hand on his shoulder pulling him back. He flinches, as a deep voice loudly says “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I- Uh. I was, uhm, going to see Eddie?” He finishes voice pitching up at the end like its a question, biting his lip willing the anxious tears that sprouted not to fall. The guy glares at him, “I don’t think so-” But he’s cut off by Eddie, “Woah, Gareth. It’s okay, he’s with me.” And that seems to calm ‘Gareth’ down, and Steve’s shoulders slump in relief. “I didn’t um. I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” He says, cheeks going red. Eddie waves his hand, “Don’t worry about it, Stevie.” And for a second Steve wonders how he knows his name before realizing he’s been wearing a name tag in every one of their interactions.

“He’s harmless, I promise.” Eddie assures ‘Gareth’ again.

And with that he leaves them alone. They talk for hours, and the time flies by, and Eddie invites him to dinner with him and his friends. He agrees easily, from what Eddie has told him, they all seem pretty cool, although he finds it a bit odd that they all share the uniform of sunglasses and hats.

At dinner, he can hear the subtle clicks of cameras and whispers, and he quietly wonders if there’s some type of celebrity around. Eddie and his friends laugh, but Steve seems to have missed the joke.

Overall it was a great night, ending with him and Eddie leaving hand and hand, sharing a soft kiss as Eddie walks him to his car parked in the hotel lot.

Once safely alone in his car, he squeals like a teenage girl, kicking his feet, twirling his hair, the whole nine yards. He goes to call Robin but in some odd coincidence, she’s already calling him.

“STEVE WHAT THE FUCK.” She’s shouting before he can even speak.

“Robs! I was just about to call you! I had the most amazing date,” He gushes, conveniently leaving out the part where he admits that his date's friends were with them.

“Yeah, I know, Steve. It’s ALL OVER TWITTER.” And she’s screaming again, so loud he has to pull the phone away from his ear.

“What do you mean? It was just a date, I wasn’t with anyone else!”

“You were with EDDIE MUNSON.”

“Yeah I kn- How do you know the name of my date?”

“Steve. Steve, Steve, Steve.” She sighs.

“What?”

“I can’t believe you met Gareth AND Eddie AND Jeff and Keith! The only four men I would ever let inside me!” Steve cringes at that, “Robs. Never say that to me again. And what is going on? Did- Did you follow me to my date again?” He can hear her exasperated groan from the other side of town, no phone needed.

“Steve. Listen to me. Do you know the band Corroded Coffin?”

He shrugs, “Yeah, kind of. Dustin talks about them sometimes.” he doesn't know what this has to do with the beautiful man he just went out with.

“Okay. So here’s the deal. You have gone on a date, and smooched, SMOOCHED, the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin.”

“I- What?”

“You kissed the lead guitarist of a very popular band.”

“Oh.”

“YEAH, OH, DINGUS.”

His phone chimes and he pulls it away from his ear to check the notification.

‘eddiemunson_CC just followed you.’

Another one follows immediately after that.

‘eddiemunson_CC sent you a message’

“Oop- He’s texting me, hold on.”

“Put me on speaker!”

“Oh, he has a blue check mark next to his instagram name thingy, that's cool!”

“Steve, oh my god, what did he say?”

Steve looks at the message, ‘I was trying to avoid the paps. Sorry, Stevie, they caught us.’ He responds quickly with an ‘It’s okay Eddie! I had a great time tonight!’ He narrates this all to Robin who is responding quite enthusiastically. “We can be famous by association, Steve!” She says in a “duh” tone of voice.” Steve rolls his eyes, “I think I’d rather just date him.”

He ends the call with Robin shortly after that and proceeds to text Eddie, punching in the faded sharpie written number on his forearm, Instagram DM’s weren’t very private according to Eddie, easily hacked or something like that. They text back and forth for a while, arranging a proper date in Eddie’s hotel room where they don’t have to be so discrete.

Eddie’s back in the coffee shop the next morning, uniform intact, basically loitering until Steve is done with his shift. They head back to the hotel room, blatantly ignoring the photos that are being taken of them. Back in Eddie’s room, Steve hears Corroded Coffins music for the first time, it's good. No wonder they’re so famous. Steve shares that sentiment and much to his chagrin, Eddie teases him relentlessly about it.

The internet knows of Eddie's new beau, and by extension, so does Dustin, who yells at Steve for not mentioning it sooner.

And if Corroded Coffin’s next album has more love songs than the others combined, well. We all know why.

inspired by @steddiealltheway's rockstar Eddie and clueless Steve fic!

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #rockstar Eddie munson #barista Steve Harrington #meet cute #stranger things #stranger things ficlet

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look-at-the-soul · 2 months

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Every little thing you do- Part 1

Tommy Shelby x reader

Series Master list

✨So first part is finally here!! Please be aware this part is set to happen in different days therefore you’ll see a little divider in the middle… and also! There’s violence. Please note I’m trying to follow the ideas/education from back in the day so it won’t necessary fit for today’s way of seeing things.

Word count: 2,977

Waving her sister goodbye, Y/N headed outside. But to her surprise she found Scott stopping his vehicle.

“Hello sweetheart.” He greeted her with a quick kiss on her lips, she stepped back immediately in case her mother was watching behind the curtains.

“Scott, I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“We’ll I lied and said I felt sick to get out earlier.”

This wasn’t something he’d do, but she listened to his explanation.

“I wanted to see you.”

Y/N looked over her shoulder, her parents were strict.

“You know you’re only invited for lunch and tea on Sundays.”

“I know, I know.” He moved back retrieving something from the car. “Got you these.”

“I love them, thank you.” Y/N pressed the bouquet of flowers against her chest, the fresh aroma invading her, a smile growing in her lips.

“Why don’t you go back inside and put them in water? Then meet me at the bakery around the corner.”

“Where are we going?”

Scott gave her a wide smile that took her breath away. “It’s a surprise, you’ll like it.”

Butterflies got spread all over her stomach, the expectation building. She hurried to the unexpected date.

“Listen, I want to apologize for acting shitty the other day.” Scott announced. “Can you forgive me love?”

Y/N nodded eagerly, pleased by his change of heart.

“It’s alright, just be careful next time.” Y/N suggested as he drove.

“Careful?”

“You shouldn’t have talked Tommy that way.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “There you go again, defending him. This why we fight.”

“No, Scott I don’t want a war between you two all the time, he didn’t like the way you talked to me.”

“Why does he always sticks his bloody nose in our business?”

“It’s not like that.”

“He’s always standing in the middle, I’m sick of getting orders from him, he leaves me the worst jobs just to please himself, he’s got people to do those things. I thought they wanted me to do other things, not to clean horses shit.”

“Scott I can’t interfere in your role among the gang, he already has done more than enough.”

“There it is, you’re defending him instead of being on my side…”

Y/N realized how unintentionally she always put Tommy on a pedestal, her boyfriend was right, feeling like he was belittled. She knew Tommy didn’t like him, and there was a possibility that she wasn’t impartial.

“I’ll see what I can do.” She finally gave in, not wanting to spend their time together fighting.

“That’s my girl.” He stopped the car on the sideway and began to shower her face with soft kisses.

”Do you need anything else?” Lizzie walked around the desk, resting against the bookshelf.

“What happened with the contracts you couldn’t find?” Tommy asked leaning back on his chair.

“Arthur took them by mistake.”

“Keep those locked.” He pointed a finger at her.

“Are you going to Karl’s birthday party?” She tried batting her eyelashes at him, but Tommy wasn’t looking at her.

“Yes, in a minute.”

Lizzie looked down at him again, hoping he’d ask her to join him.

“Heard Ada bought a huge cake.”

Tommy took his briefcase and hummed nonchalantly.

“I wrapped you a present for Karl, take it before you leave.”

She didn’t get a response.

Giving up to her wishes to be invited with the Shelby family, Lizzie shook her head. Collecting the remains of her dignity from the floor.

Tommy followed her with his eyes as she stomped her foot on her way out but dismissed it a few seconds later, not understanding her attitude.

The office was quiet when he crossed it, everyone had headed home already and his family were already in Polly’s house.

This was the first time he left considerably early in a long time. The need to release some stress made him reach for a cigarette. He had a dozen of things to do, a trip to London in the upcoming days, visit one of the fabrics… before he realized, Tommy parked outside Polly’s property.

Karl’s celebration was a rare family gathering. For his brothers birthdays they’d usually went to camp close to the river and drink all night. He wasn’t used to paper decorations and chocolate cake.

A small figure crashed against his legs. “Oh oh.”

Looking down, he found one of John’s kids. Was this Kate? Or Barbara?

“Careful.”

“There you are.” John appeared with a sandwich in his hand. “Go with your siblings.” He instructed his daughter.

“John.” Tommy called him mysteriously, with his hand motioning his brother to step closer. “Wipe your fucking mouth, you’ve got chocolate all over it.”

Stepping into the living room, he joined his family.

“Uncle Tommy!” Karl ran towards him with his arms open.

Tommy rubbed the kid’s back and offered him his present. “Happy birthday Karl.”

“Thank you!”

“Looks like you owe me money Pol.” Ada chuckled as she helped her son open his present.

Tommy looked from his sister to his aunt, studying them.

“Damn it. I thought he wasn’t going to show up.”

“So you made a bet?” He asked in disbelief.

He usually wouldn’t. But when it came to his sister, he made an effort.

“Where’s Y/N?” Polly asked with a frown.

“I sent her the invitation, thought you’d arrive together.” Ada explained staring at her brother.

But Tommy shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen or heard from her.”

“Shit! Pol! Help me out here!” John shouted holding his son James in his arms, he was bleeding and crying. “Smashed his fucking head.”

As Ada rushed to get some clean towels, Polly tried to comfort the child.

Stepping away from the chaos, Tommy leaned against a column to think he actually hadn’t seen Y/N in almost a week. A million thoughts filling his mind, trying to find a reason for her to be distant.

He needed to know if she was alright because she had always been close to the family, she was always considered part of it to all their gatherings; she was there for them at Freddy’s funeral, at John’s wedding…

“Now that we’re here all together, I’ve something to say.” Arthur announced stepping on a chair, oblivious that Esme and Polly were taking care of a bleeding child.

As the room went quiet, Arthur announced he and Linda were expecting a baby.

“Congratulations.” Esme managed to blurr through gritted teeth. “Now help me hold James, because I need to rearrange his arm.”

As Arthur walked past Tommy, his brother patted his arm and mumbled a low congratulations.

But the thought of Y/N not being with them, stuck in his head.

Y/N felt like sleeping on the couch. Her feet were swollen, Lady Winchester lost one of her precious earrings and decided to put everyone in the search until they found it under her vanity hours later.

Oddly her family decided to stay up late apparently as she could see the candles still on. But just as she set one foot inside, her mother pushed her abruptly.

“You’re a dishonorable daughter! We gave you everything!” One of her hands intended to land on her cheek but hit her on her ear instead.

“What happened?”

“Y-your aunt says you’re with a child, she saw you this morning and came to ask me.” Y/N’s mother was furious.

A woman came into view, her sister poking her head from the kitchen as her mother pushed her into the room next to it and closed the door. She demanded Y/N to undress and started touching her breasts.

“She’s with a child.” The elder woman confirmed, her hands still on her breasts.

Y/N’s face got paler by the second. Her mother gave the woman money and asked discretion.

A heavy silence filled the room, Y/N could hear a pin drop if someone threw one. Dizziness swept over her as her palms started to sweat.

“Your father will be so disappointed by you.” Her mother sentenced firmly. “You’re a whore, this sin will follow you from now on.”

Blood went to Y/N’s feet and she had to grab the vanity for support.

“You’ll tell Scott tomorrow and get him to ask your father’s permission to marry you before you start showing.” Y/N could hear her mother’s words as if she was underwater.

“I’ll save him the embarrassment, perhaps you can go to your grandmother’s house and hide there…” she was pacing the room as a maniac, Y/N was starting to process everything, she could hardly breathe.

“I didn’t know I could get pregnant without being married.”

Y/N’s mother laughed sarcastically. “It’s too late for that now, you should’ve waited until you got married!”

“You never told me this could happen.” Y/N felt on the edge of tears.

“I educated you with values, God only knows what you learned from that friend of yours.” Her mother mumbled something else Y/N couldn’t understand. Slowly she sat on the carpet, her skirt pooled around her hips and she finally sobbed. When one day Scott touched her breasts and it felt nice, electricity ran through her body. But he stopped right there. Then after taking her to the river, one of his hands sneaked under her skirt and moved her intimate clothes to the side and her body trembled. A week after that, he was about to start a fight with Tommy, for the night when they arrived after visiting Tommy’s new house. So in an attempt to make up for that fight, he took her to the river again and after kissing her, he told her he wanted to do something else. It had been over a month since she stepped in the middle of Tommy and Scott.

Y/N didn’t know she could feel such pleasure until he introduced himself into her body and she exploded of ecstasy. It felt right, he said he loved her and they went back a few days later.

Scott had said this should be between just the two of them, just as their love. But he never told her she could get pregnant.

Worry kept her up all night. She felt sorry for her poor father.

Covering her face with her hands, Y/N felt the tears rolling down her cheeks uncontrollably.

“Scott,” Y/N breathed with relief, all the worry from the past days when she hadn’t been able to reach out soon, forgotten. “I need to talk to you.”

“Y/N… I’ve to rest, haven’t had a decent sleep yet. Can we talk about this another day?” He had been out of the city, busy with God knows what, but this was important for her, for them, for their future.

Y/N studied their surroundings carefully, trying to keep her voice from shaking she placed her hands on his shoulders.

“We’re going to have a child, Scott I’m carrying your baby.” She whispered.

Scott blinked unamused by the news, his nostrils expanding profusely. Y/N wanted to reach out, to throw herself in his arms but as they were outside his house, she had to control herself. Keep her distance with him and behave accordingly.

But when he took a step back, she felt confused.

“I-I’m… this must be a mistake.”

“No, no. There’s a baby growing inside me.” She repeated, keeping her voice down. “We’ll need to figure out about the wedding, it’ll have to be something intimate and soon before it starts showing…”

“I’m not going to marry you.” Scott scoffed. “How can I be sure this child is mine? You could’ve slept with someone else just as you did with me.” He mocked her.

Before she could stop herself, Y/N found her hand flying to his cheek. Her palm tingled after the slap she gave him.

“How could you say something like that?”

“Don’t you ever dare to fucking touch me again!” He snapped. “And as for this little inconvenient… I’m not taking responsibility, you’re on your own.”

He gave her a disgusted look and walked inside his house. Leaving Y/N turned into a crying mess, she was hurt and disappointed by his reaction and terrified of the outcome.

Her mother sent her to talk to Scott to arrange the terms of the wedding and now she just realized he didn’t have her back. But what was worse, he thought she would sleep around like a whore.

Folding her arms, she walked with her head down. Guilt and embarrassment written all over her face. How would she deal with this? How would she tell her mother what Scott just said? She had been so sure she’d be able to hide it from her father by marrying Scott but now she was left in the worst possible way.

She cried uncontrollably feeling defeated, it was now too late to do something, but at the same time she didn’t know how she’d take care and raise a baby by herself.

“Where’s Scott?” Her mother hissed when her daughter appeared in her eyesight.

Y/N couldn’t speak, something heavy made her walk slowly. Her whole world was crashing down and now she’d have to face the consequences.

“He told me he wouldn’t take responsibility for a child who might not be his.” As the words left her mouth, she started crying again.

“Of course he would say that! What did you think Y/N?!” Her mother exploded. “He must think the worst of you now, how easily you have yourself away to him!”

“He told me he loved me!” Managed to shout through her tears and sobs.

Her mother’s hand flew rapidly and hit her hard.

A heavy silence surrounded them. Her cheek was burning from her mother’s slap.

“Leave Y/N!” Her grandmother intervened.

“She deserved that.” Her mother explained, she was beyond angry.

Y/N’s grandmother wrapped an arm around her granddaughter protectively.

“What happened?”

“Tell her, go on… tell your grandmother what you did.”

Y/N kept her head down, she felt like she couldn’t look her grandmother in the eyes. She had failed them terribly, the values and principles they had showed her were thrown through the window.

“No? Well, I’ll tell her myself.” Her mother warned. “Y/N didn’t wait until marriage, she gave herself away like a whore and is now with a child. Couldn’t keep her legs closed.”

“Well we’ll think of something, she won’t start showing right away.”

“There’s nothing to think mother, Scott is out of the picture he didn't accept the responsibility.”

“But he’s as responsible as Y/N.” Her grandmother pointed out thinking this wasn’t fair on Y/N.

“Your granddaughter’s honor is right on the floor, he even suggested the baby isn’t his.”

Y/N saw her mother pacing around the small room, it was making her feel sick.

“And your father arrives tomorrow… should we send her with your sister to Durham?” She pondered the possibilities thinking of her mother’s sibling.

“Absolutely not.” Her grandmother defended.

“Then what? What are we going to do?”

Y/N felt sick and rushed away from them. Her head was pounding, her stomach in a tight knot and her heart shattered into million pieces.

“Ma’am you can’t go in there.” Tommy heard from outside his office, then saw the door swing open.

“Mr. Shelby you’re the only one who can help me.”

Tommy rose to his feet in a second, the worry he found in Y/N’s grandmother raised all the alarms.

“What happened?”

“My son in law is hitting Y/N badly.” Her voice cracked, her hands reached for the sleeve of his suit. “You’ve to help her.”

Tommy took his coat from the rack and rushed to see what was happening.

“John, get Polly and meet me in Y/N’s house.” He demanded.

“I’ll go with them Mr. Shelby.” Y/N’s grandmother expressed, not wanting to make him wait.

Tommy doubted for a second, but with her hand, the elder woman ushered him, so it must be serious. Stepping in Y/N’s house without knocking because he heard her cries and pained screams from outside, but Tommy wasn’t prepared to find what he’d see.

Y/N was in the middle of the living room half her clothes shattered, kneeling on the floor and her upper body leaned over a chair, her back covered by the belt marks and blood.

He felt a rush of anger and disgust through his body. Tommy could practically taste his bile in his mouth, but as Y/N’s father was about to hit her again, he stepped in his way, holding the man’s hand firmly in the air.

“You touch her again, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Stay out of this Shelby, I’m dealing with this whore.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself or you’ll regret it.” Tommy muttered through gritted teeth.

John joined him with a couple of some of their men, they went straight to hold Y/N’s father away from her.

Y/N winced in pain when Tommy tried to help her up.

“This is a family matter!” Y/N’s mother shouted disturbed for the interruption. “You should respect that.”

“Yeah? Just like you’re respecting your daughter?” Tommy snapped, he lost all self control over this injustice.

“She has to deal with the consequences of her acts! Behaved like a whore, gets punished like one.”

Y/N felt her mother’s words like daggers to her heart. She wasn’t sure what felt more hurtful; her father’s hitting her with his belt or her mother’s words.

Tommy felt like throwing up, he apologized when he got Y/N in his arms and she complained from the pain.

“You can’t take her away!” Her mother warned, trying to stop Tommy.

He gave her a warning stare and mumbled; “watch me.”

Part 2

Divider

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sunflowersteves · 10 months

Note

can you write about carmy getting his first blowjob????

the way I crave this man is insane 😩 of course I can, hun

pairing || carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings || fluff, established relationship, reader has manicured nails, SMUT, blowjob, mention of eating out, praise kink, 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

masterlist

It was way past closing time at the restaurant. All of the other employees had left, finishing their duties, while Richie was furiously cleaning the floors. His arm felt like it was about to fall off as he scrubbed the dirty tile.

Carmen, on the other hand, was chopping vegetables. His hand moved fast across the cutting board, making thumping sounds as the knife sliced each carrot.

Richie scoffed. “Do you seriously need to do this right now, cousin?”

Carmen didn’t even blink. He just continued to chop up the remaining vegetables, with all of his focus on cooking. After putting the carrots into the pot, he starts to finely dice a red onion.

“Yes, cousin. I just—I just need to perfect this recipe, and then we’re good.”

Richie rolled his eyes but still scrubbed. “You’re such a jagoff.”

Carmen had a habit of trying to perfect every single recipe thrown his way. When he tasted the soup earlier, his nose scrunched up. Something about it just felt off—and it was driving him insane. It tasted too salty and too acidic. He needed to figure out how to make it better.

He turned to the boiling pot of chicken stock and gently placed the onion slices into the stew. “Yo, cousin. I got it. Go home.” He didn’t even wait for an answer as he expertly sliced into a tomato.

Richie stood up from the ground. “Sure. Just don’t make your girl wait too long.”

For the first time in their conversation, Carmen looked over at him. There was even a small smile on his lips. “Never. Not to her.”

Richie half-smiled. “Alright, you fuckin’ sap. I’m leaving.” On the inside, Richie was beaming. He couldn’t get over how happy you make Carmen—hell, how happy you make the whole kitchen. Your presence was entirely needed in a place like this.

He knocked twice on the office door and announced his leave to you. You opened the door with a wide grin and bid him goodnight. “Don’t forget to tell Eva about the tickets!” You called out as Richie walked out the door.

Richie was practically glowing at the mention of his daughter. “Thank you for finding amazing seats, by the way, sweetheart! You’re a fucking lifesaver!” With that, Richie was out of sight as the door closed on him.

Carmen’s eyes flickered up at the sound of your voice. His head swiveled around to see you already staring at him. Your body leaned over the office door frame—pretty manicured nails sparkling against the contrasted white of the walls.

“Hi, baby.” He says.

“Hi, Carm.” You say back, smiling.

He puts the sharp knife down and wipes his hand on the towel that was over his shoulder. You walk over to him in the kitchen, and he relishes the proximity of your presence. Your fingers trace the outline of his bicep, and a shiver crawls up his spine. Your hand settles onto his shoulder, and you give a small squeeze.

Your relationship was fairly new. It would officially be three months tomorrow, to be exact. It had gone by pretty fast if he was being honest, but it just felt so good being with you. Despite the newly founded relationship, Carmen couldn’t get over how much you truly mean to him.

You were everything from the late Sunday mornings of snuggling under the sheets to the crazy late nights of telling stories out in the front house of the restaurant. To make matters worse, you got along so well with all of the staff at The Bear. You calmed him down when everything seemed to be directly opposing him. You were always there to press a finger to his chin and a kiss on his cheek. He swore his heart palpitated against his chest every time he thought about you.

“Can I taste?”

He nodded, grabbing a small spoon and dipping it into the soup. His hand hovered under the bottom so it wouldn’t spill. “Open your mouth, baby.”

You did as he said and let your jaw slack open. He places the spoon into your mouth, and you let the delicious, salty soup slide down your throat.

You moan against the spoon. “Holy fuck, Carm.” His eyes never left your face in an attempt to understand your reaction. “That was the best thing I have ever tasted.”

He finally smiles. He felt like he was glowing. “You say that every time I ask you to try something.”

You slid your hand down his chest, feeling the imprint of the chain that rests under his uniform. “And I mean it every fucking time.” His heart buzzed against his chest. His mind felt hazy. He wrapped an arm around your waist and squeezed the soft, plush flesh. His bright eyes were so intense—so full of affection—that it was starting to make you feel hot.

“You wanna taste it too?” You asked innocently.

He nodded and reached for another clean spoon. You smiled wide at the idea of him getting a sparkling clean spoon. He was quickly derailed by the way your lips crashed onto his. He let out a surprised groan, his eyes fluttering close.

You moved in sync until you pushed your tongue into his mouth and tasted the sweet essence of him. He tasted the chicken and onions from the delectable, tasty soup. It was much better than what he had tasted earlier. “Fuck—” He murmured in between the deep kisses. You bubbled out a laugh, but his hand stayed firm on your waist. He didn't want to end the way he felt when your lips graced his own.

You pull apart after the desperation of air becomes too much. You almost laugh again at the sight of his swollen lips and pretty pink cheeks. “See? Taste’s good, doesn’t it?”

A small smirk caressed his lips, but the flustered look was still there. “It tastes very good, sweet girl.”

The nickname prickled goosebumps onto your arms. He has called you that since your third date, but it never ceases to make your heart flutter. He knows it too.

You both start to gravitate toward each other once more. This time the kiss was more intense, with more teeth clashing and attempting to bruise each other’s lips.

“Carmy.” You whine. He growled into you in response and pressed another searing kiss onto your mouth. His hands grip your waist even tighter as if to pull you in even more. A moan slipped from the back of your throat.

Your hands move to the plains of his chest before pushing the two of you apart. His eyebrows furrow as you completely pull away from his embrace. Did he hurt you? It was all he could think. He didn’t want to fuck this up. No, he can’t fuck this up.

“Baby?” He whispers, sounding uncertain.

You don’t say a thing as you sink your knees to the ground, causing Carmen to gasp. His eyes were wide as his stare intensified. “F-Fuck.” His mouth bobs open and closed, trying to find some other words, but all he does is whisper your name.

Your hands moved up and down his thighs. The fabric of his chef uniform was soft against your palms. “Can I take care of you, Carmy?”

Oh, fuck. Your voice sounded so sweet—so thick and kind against his ears. He could feel his cock throb at the anticipation of your touch.

You wait for his answer, still gently rubbing his thighs back and forth. He felt like he was on fire. Nerves crash over him, though. His heart starts to speed up at the anxiety that prickles his skin. He had never done this before.

It wasn’t that the opportunity didn’t arise because it did. You asked many times if he wanted a blowjob, but all he wanted was to lick into your folds again. It was like his mind was drunk off of the sweet, tangy nectar, and he wasn't about to let go. He needed you more and more. He discovered he was much more of a giver.

Normally, he takes his sweet time with you. The first time he had ever tasted anyone was you. He always asks—that desperation in his voice. “Can I taste you? Please? F-Fuck, I see you dripping. Oh—Please?” Once he got confirmation, he would spread your legs and dip his tongue into your sweet folds. He could eat you out for hours—and he has.

He would groan against you as his tongue pushed through your folds. You tasted tangy and sour—so sweet to his taste buds, making his hands grip an indent into your flesh. The whimpers and whines that you let out are music to his ears, and he wishes the sounds were burned onto his soul. His eyes would always be latched onto yours, refusing to break the intense contact. He could fucking live in your pussy.

He couldn’t say no to you, though, could he? His cock was about ready to start leaking pre-cum. Your eyes looked so dilated and large with lust that he couldn't resist.

“F-fuck, okay. Yeah, baby. J-just—” He breaks out into a moan from your eager hands. They pushed down his pants, pooling around his ankles almost in an instant.

“Wait-wait—”

You stop immediately and let go of his thighs. Some concern is etched across your face, and it makes his heart skip a beat.

“I just—I just want you to know that I’ve never done this before. I don’t—” He gulps. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

You almost let out a gasp. It was his first blowjob that you were going to give him, and he was worried about you. His eyebrows are furrowed and he's huffing out a breath. He just didn't want you to feel like you have to do something like this.

“Oh, Carmy, baby, I’m not uncomfortable at all. I’ve been wanting to do this to you for so long, but you kind of get distracted.” There was that implication that he knew about so well. A blush kissed the tip of his ears.

“You sure, baby? I’m not-I’m not forcing you?”

You wanted to know who hurt this man. His anxiety about making you feel comfortable was always through the roof. You grabbed his clenched hand and opened his palm. You pressed a sweet kiss. “No, baby. You’re not forcing me.”

He visibly relaxes his shoulders. “Okay.” He breathes out. “Okay.”

You avert your attention back to his thighs—and what’s between them. He could practically see your mouth water at the bulge that protruded out from his boxers. Carmen had always been big. No one had ever told him that before, in the late kind-of drunken night stands that he had. When you first had sex at his apartment and could really take a peek at his weeping cock, your eyes widened drastically.

You knew he was big, but goddamn, he is big.

“Can I, handsome?”

You looked up at him with a cute smile. The nickname caused his heart to stutter—his cheeks deepening the shade of red. "Yeah, baby." He says. Then he whispers, “Please.”

You dragged his boxers down his thighs, and they pooled right on top of his slacks. His cock sprung up from the force—already more than half hard and aching. His eyes can’t seem to stare at anything else but you. You looked so eager—so excited—to have his dick right in front of your face. It made his stomach flip.

Your hand curls around the base, and he sucks in a breath. Your fingers just barely wrapped around the entirety of his length. Your manicured nails dug slightly into the large vein on the side—it made him choke on his own spit.

“So fuckin’ big, Carmy.” You whined. You started to pump, it was a small motion, but it still made him moan. It sounded so desperate, making your ears ring. You couldn’t wait any longer, mouth watering at the sight of pre-cum already sprouting from his tip.

You kissed the tip of his cock, and he shivered. “F-Fuck, baby—” He moans. He could feel his whole body throbbing—aching at the way you made him feel.

You swirl your tongue around the ruddy tip and continue to tease him, wrapping your lips around the sensitive area. His hand immediately goes to the back of your head, unable to help himself. “Oh, fuck, holy shit—your fucking mouth, shit—”

His knees wobbled, the other hand steadying himself on the kitchen counter. “Y’taste so good, Carmy.” Your words were slurred with lust, making his own eyes dilate. His heart palpitated at you loving this—the insecurities from earlier disappearing like water down a drain.

You start to take him even further. Your lips slowly ease down his cock, and one of your hands, still wrapped around the shaft, gave a squeeze. He choked on nothing and watched how you hollow your cheeks. You’re only halfway, but he swears he is seeing stars. “Feels so good, baby—so fucking good.” He squeezes his hand.

Pride blooms within you, as well as the praises from him making you clench around nothing. You wanted to start touching yourself, but the intense desperation to keep a hand on his cock was greater. You choked a little as his hips unconsciously gave a small thrust. It made him let out a loud moan.

He’s not sure where the confidence came from, but it’s spewing out of his mouth before he can stop it. “Fucking—shit—can you take all of it, sweet girl? Hmm?”

He licks his lips. “Can you t-take my whole cock in your mouth?” He lets out a huff of air as you moan around his cock. “Be–be my good girl, yeah?”

The only confirmation you can give is the way your eyes gloss over. Tears threaten to poke out from your eyes, and the sight makes Carmen let out a curse. You slowly, yet again, take more of him in your mouth.

“F-fuck,” he drags out. “Good girl—good fuckin’ girl. That’s it.” His knees wobble again, but he stays steady. Pure bliss sprouts in his stomach as he can feel the hot, searing pleasure from your wet mouth.

You were able to fully take him—nose brushing up against the hair on his pubic bone. He groans and whimpers at the sight of you breathing deeply with his cock shoved down your throat. “Shit–shit–fuck, baby. That’s my pretty girl. Look–look at you choking on my cock. Holy shit—” He whined out.

Warmth spreads through your chest at the adoration and lust that flows through his eyes. He can’t stop staring at the way you are just barely able to take him whole. His eyes widened even more as he watched you shove your hand down your shorts.

“Oh, baby—” he says in a coo. “Look so good like that, huh? Fuckin’ touching yourself.” You could feel the way his cock twitches in his mouth. God, where was this coming from? He thought. Something about how your eyes sprung with more tears and you desperately humping your hand for some release was making him insane.

He thrusts in and out of you, fucking up into your throat. You gagged around the girth of his cock and garbled out a cry. He moaned and whined at the feeling of your throat constricting against his cock and listened to the wet sounds of it all.

“Gonna–gonna cum, baby.” He swore that he saw your eyes sparkle—as if you wanted it all down your throat. He could feel that familiar swirl of an organism puncturing his chest. He panted as he watched the way his cock disappeared into your throat—it was a fucking sight.

His eyes suddenly turn nervous. “Can-can I cum down your throat? Please?” He sees the way you nod with your mouth full, but he sees it. He sees the raw want and needs that fills your eyes. Yeah, you wanted his cum. You needed his cum.

“Shitshitshit—” He stammers, thrusting into you two, three times. He groans out, low and guttural, as his seed spills into the back of your throat. He moans out your name in between shaken breaths from the ropes flowing through your mouth—salty and sour. He continues to pump into you, and you swallow every single drop—the added friction of your throat making him whimper.

His hips still, but his cock stays inside of your mouth, twitching in pleasure. You hum around the base and watch as his body almost writhes. He looks down at you with the most content and relaxed smile you had seen.

You slowly pulled your mouth off of him; the pop noise was small. You started to press sweet kisses to his thighs, his hand going back to rest on your head. “Feel good, bear?”

His eyes were shining. “Felt so good, baby. Y’did so well.” Now his words were slurred with lust. He just couldn’t help but let his whole world revolve around you for a moment.

You gently put on his boxers and do the same to his chef slacks. He offers you his hand, and he helps you pull yourself up. You wince at the sting in your knees, but in a way, it felt good.

He immediately takes you into an embrace, not uttering a word. You gladly let him and rest your arms over his shoulder. He grabs your waist tightly and lets his head fall on your shoulder. He breathes in deeply, letting the scent that he knows so well flow into his nose.

He was completely and utterly relaxed—it was a sensation he didn’t feel all that often. You press a gentle kiss to his hair and then to his temple. The two of you just stood like that for some time, saying nothing and enjoying one’s company.

Both of your attention to each other had ceased as the pot that was on the stove had boiled over. A lot of the soup had crashed onto the burning stove. "Fuck!"

Carmen immediately turned the stove off and let out a relieved sigh that nothing had burned. It would just be a bitch to clean up. You hand him a clean washcloth with a slightly guilty look on your face. He took the cloth from you with an annoyed (it was minorly annoyed) glare before wiping down the area.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, Carm." You say, watching his arms flex. "I don't regret a thing."

He rolled his eyes but chuckled under his breath. "Yeah, yeah. Fuck you." The cursing was lighthearted because he knew it too. He didn't regret anything either. In fact, he encouraged something like this again, maybe just without being in the middle of cooking.

He tried the soup again with the dirty spoon—he had a suspicion that it was going to be thrown out anyway. "Shit—Fuck—it's overcooked."

You laughed, one hand resting on your chest. He glared again. "Hey, you can't—seriously, we burned the soup. It's shit."

He still might not admit it, but you could see the way his eyes were still glossed over from the earth-shattering orgasm. He could even feel his cock jump from the way that he watched you bite your lip.

You pressed a finger onto his chin, thumb resting on his jaw. "It'll be okay, Carm." You squeezed his jaw. "You can make some more tomorrow. I’ll help."

Finally, he smiled. Yeah, tomorrow, he thought. His eyes still looked glossy, and his loopy smile was bright. "Let's clean up and go home.”

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto smut #smut

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gay-dorito-dust · 27 days

Note

can i request hcs of gallagher, jing yuan and sunday falling for a criminal? would they try to bring them to the “good” side?

Sunday: I’m kinda 50/50 on Sunday tbh…

He could persuade/ manipulate you into abandoning your old ways into being with him with promises that he could provide the materials you want/need tenfold.

You had been causing issues for him and the family so why not have you under his roof as his partner? It gets the family off of his back and he gets what he wants.

It was a win-win situation.

You don’t get much of a choice in this situation as Sunday had already put everything in motion long before your fated meeting.

Sunday had kept an eye on you from the moment you started causing problems and ever since then had become a thorn in the family’s side and had grown somewhat of an obsession.

Was it healthy? No but anything Sunday did to earn your eyes on him wasn’t ever healthy, but he likes to believe it was.

While you did get out of a life of crime, was it really better when your new life was spent under constant surveillance from your loving partner and were often refused leave from the house in fear that you were still wanted by the family?

Sunday does love you but it wasn’t a healthy type of love people were tricked into believing…

Gallagher: would have a bit a fun with your little car and mouse game at first.

You being the criminal and him being the one entrusted to put a stop to you schemes.

As long as you weren’t making him work hard nor hurting/killing people and causing mass hysteria then Gallagher was more then willing to let you get away a few times cuz that’s his job

He’d even suggest that you should come to the bar he works on the side in his spare time for a drink and a chat.

You naturally thought this was a rouse and didn’t go but Gallagher was able to persuade you into coming by saying that Gallagher the bloodhound and Gallagher the mixologist were two separate people who ran on two different times.

Needless to say that you began to frequent the bar more often after that and even got to open up to Gallagher about the reasons why you’ve became a criminal.

Gallagher would then help you in getting on the right path by having you bartend with himself and or Siobhan -someone who quickly became one of your closest friends- who knew about Gallagher’s feelings towards you and will occasionally act as his wingman.

After awhile you’ve left the life of crime behind you and become a bartender for the DreamJolt Hostelry in the Reverie.

It wasn’t long before Gallagher asked you out on a date and then later be in a beautiful relationship with you much to everyone in the DreamJolt Hostelry’s relief. They’ve spent long enough not trying to comment on the evident tension between the two of you.

Jing yuan:

He would try to bring you to the good side but not just because he was a crush on you, but more so the fact that you were wasting your time and effort on something that he though was beneath someone of your calibre.

He sees your potential and is impressed but was saddened that your potential was dwindled by the fact that you had resorted to a life of crime.

I mean you must be something if you’ve caught the Generals attention for him to put so much investment in you.

So he would always seemingly be where you are and talks some wisdom into you about how you shouldn’t settle for less just because you thought that was all that your worth. When in actuality you were only relaying on the words other people have used to describe you, rather then let yourself determine your actual worth, which was far greater then the one you’ve given yourself to settle with.

Jing yuan will try to sway you into making the right decision. He firmly believes that you were the only one who should willing make the choice to actively make change to your lifestyle, no one else should have any say in what you do with your life but you.

Whether it’d be good or bad. Life was a lesson that we’re all constantly learning from on a daily basis. We’re not the same person as we were yesterday or the day before and Jing Yuan firmly believed this and was willing to wait as long as it took for you to make the right decision for yourself.

Which you do and from then does Jing Yuan focused on building your relationship in hopes of a potential chance of it becoming romantic.

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half-oz-eddie · 1 month

Text

🎁 ❤️

Max was not supposed to be in Billy’s room. She knew better.

But it was 7:30 AM and she really wanted to leave something for him on his desk.

She quietly crept in, sliding her slim frame through the ajar door and tiptoed to his desk to gently place something on it.

“The hell’re you doing?” A groggy voice startled her.

She should’ve expected the hyper-vigilant teen to wake up while she was there.

“I was—I just wanted t-to leave something here for you.” She nervously stammered.

He narrowed his sleepy eyes at her. “Give it here.”

Max slowly walked over, handing the surprise to Billy.

It slowly exchanged hands and Billy examined it closely.

“I-I know you don’t have a record player but I saw the posters in your room and I thought you’d want to—like—have something to collect. So Steve drove me to a record store to get you a vinyl.”

He stared at the Mötley Crüe vinyl for a few moments, then handed it back to Max. “Put it on my desk.” He said as he laid back down.

“Y-you don’t like it?” She frowned.

“Never said I didn’t. I’m just tired.”

Max slowly walked back over to his desk and set the vinyl down.

“Why’d you buy that for me?” He asked.

“Don’t you know what today is? It’s your—“

“I know that.” He said in a snippy voice. “I’m asking why the hell you bought me anything. You never cared before.”

“Well, last year, I tried to buy you something with my allowance and my mom said Neil would be mad if I used my money on you, so she wouldn’t take me to the mall.”

“And you said Harrington drove you? Why the hell did he do that?” Billy continued to question.

“We had a long talk about that night at the Byers and we came to a realization of how unfair we were being to you. So I—I didn’t wanna lose you forever. We don’t get along but like, we had our moments, where we’d talk to each other a little bit. Now we don’t speak at all.”

“You stabbed me with a needle.”

“You were gonna kill Steve if I didn’t stop you.” Max sighed. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“You don’t need to be. But whatever, guess I’m sorry too.”

Max smiled. “I’ll let you sleep. Happy birthday.”

She closed the door behind her upon exiting and went back to her bed.

It was nearly 11AM when Max woke up again. Neil and Susan were already at work. Susan left a note behind with instructions for heating up lunch.

This year, there was no school on Billy’s birthday, so Max decided to heat up the lunch for both of them.

She set down two plates just in time, as she heard Billy resurfacing from his room.

He stepped through the quiet house and stopped by the table, glaring at Max.

“Nobody’s home?”

“No. Mom left lunch for us, so I heated it up.”

Billy looked down at the chicken Parmesan. Susan normally only made it for holidays, but Easter wasn’t until Sunday.

Max figured it was Susan’s subtle way of giving Billy a little something special for his birthday.

“There were some breadsticks too.” Max mentioned, grabbing them out of the toaster oven. “I put some of that garlic and herb stuff on them because I remembered that you like it.”

Billy glared at Max as she started eating.

“What?” She asked with her mouth half full.

Billy shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Nothin’. Forget it.”

They ate in complete silence. Billy finished first and got up from the table without a word.

Max didn’t expect much conversation from Billy, but he wasn’t as unpleasant as he could’ve been, so it was fine.

She washed the dishes and sat back down at the table reading a magazine when Billy returned once more with his jacket on.

“C’mon.”

“Where’re we going?”

“Somewhere. I can’t leave you here by yourself. Susan and dad would bitch about it.”

Max grabbed her jacket and slipped on some shoes, then followed Billy to his car.

The drive was brief and they stopped at the quarry.

To Max’s surprise, Billy invited her to sit on the hood of his car. He offered her a soda and cracked open a beer for himself.

They clinked their cans together and drank as they quietly watched the early afternoon scenery.

“It’s surprisingly warm today.” Max initiated small talk.

“I think the groundhog saw its shadow—or didn’t see its shadow—or whichever meant a late winter.”

“It’s…when he sees his shadow.” She paused. “I think.”

Billy snorted. “Why are we listening to a big ass rodent about the weather anyway?”

Max softly giggled. “Tradition, I guess.”

“Yeah, well, it’s stupid.” He mumbled in response as he brought the beer can to his lips.

Silence returned again, and Billy glanced over at Max.

“So y’said Harrington drove you to the record store. That’s like…across town.”

“I wasn’t alone with him, if that’s what you’re worried about. Dustin and Lucas went too.”

Billy quickly responded with a scoff. “What’s so great about Harrington anyway? You defended him over me that night—“

“Is that what made you so upset?”

“No. But you defended him and I’m asking about it.”

“Well, he’s really nice. He looks after all my friends, everyone around town knows him and his family—“

“So he’s just the opposite of me.”

“W—I—I mean, you’re nice sometimes. You’ve been nice to me 4 times and I remember them all.”

Billy shrugged. “Yeah. Anyway, thanks for the gift, shitbird.”

“You better get me something nice for my birthday too!”

“When is it again? April…may…tember…”

“July.” She snapped.

Billy laughed. “I know when your birthday is, don’t be such a baby.”

“I’m not.” She fired back. “You’re just a jerk.”

“And?”

Max scoffed. “You’re so lucky it’s your birthday or I’d—“

“You’d what?”

Max chugged her soda and tossed the empty can at Billy.

“You piece of shit. You’re dead!”

Max jumped off the hood of Billy’s car and ran off laughing, with Billy not too far behind.

When Billy finally caught up to Max, he chugged his beer and tossed the can at Max.

The out of breath siblings glared at one another, before their expressions softened and they began to laugh.

“Hey, d’you wanna go to the movies or something?” Max offered. “I’ll buy you popcorn.”

“And I get to pick the movie?”

Max groaned. “Fine.”

“You know I pick better movies than you do, anyway.”

“Bullshit! Your movie choices suck ass!”

The two bickered all the way back to Billy’s car. Sure, this was a nice day, but Billy couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t stop thinking about Steve Harrington driving his little sister across town to get him a gift.

‘Maybe I should thank him too…’

#billy and max #billy hargrove #max mayfield #steve harrington #harringrove #ivy.doc

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flowerprincesscherryblossom · 1 year

Text

your innocence is mine

pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Female Reader word count: 1444 warnings: smut, vaginal fingering, unexperienced & virgin reader, virginity kink AO3 A/N: request - Hello! I love your work, could I ask you a request about Jungkook strong/intimidating aura but soft towards the reader who is shy, inexperienced and shy?🥺it turns him on but at the same time he feel protective towards her innocence. I would love to read a smut interactions between this two 🥺✨ Hope you like it and that you have a wonderful day wherever you are💜

Everyone in town had either met or heard of Jeon Jungkook at some point in their lives.

His reputation was one that was followed by whispers, one could never speak too loud, you'd never know who might be listening and one can never be too cautious.

He wasn't as bad as the dreaded Min Yoongi, whose name one was actually forbidden to speak if they what was good for them, but it was still wise to not mess with either of them.

But, much like the saying goes, every man has his weakness. His was you.

In everyone's eyes, you were just the quiet girl who kept to herself and never missed Sunday's sermon.

But to Jungkook you were the light at the end of the tunnel, the one capable of silencing his thoughts and worries by simply smiling at him.

Oh that smile of yours, the things it would do to him.

The two of you had met on a summer afternoon, Jungkook was walking around town after finishing his day job when he first saw you walking out of a candy store. It had been love at first sight. He stroke up a conversation immediately, going as far as walking you home without even noticing.

Ever since then the days had been filled with spending time together, from pleasant conversations about everything and nothing, to just enjoying each other's company, especially when he would show up unannounced at your doorstep.

So much so that Jungkook ended up losing his job, not that he cared much about it since he would had it to keep himself entertained until nighttime came around.

What astonished him the most however, was that, you knew of everything he had done - the good, the bad, and the ugly - and yet, you weren't afraid of him like everyone else. In fact, you actively encouraged him to tell you everything, your backyard was the confession booth, you were the priest, and he was the penitent.

Your parents didn't approve, that wasn't surprising, but while your mother was too afraid of him to ever say anything, your father had not. Many were the times Jungkook had been kicked out of the house, but the young man would always come back, all for you. It was your innocence that kept drawing him back to you.

Despite listening to his every word, you could never hide the shock, and sometimes even excitement, in your eyes. It was almost like you lived in a sheltered world of your own.

The first time you had kissed, the touch of lips couldn't have lasted a minute, slow and sweet, but the reaction you had afterward - wide eyes in shock, biting your bottom lip trying to hide your smile, hiding your face in your hands so that he couldn't see it - all of it had stirred something in him, something he hadn't felt before.

Your innocence made things hard for him, both figuratively and literally, every day afterward he was haunted by never-ending thoughts of making you such a slut for him that no other man could ever compare. It would be the death of him.

But not for long.

Your parents had to leave on a business trip for the weekend and, despite objecting, they knew that you'd be safe with Jungkook by your side. If only they knew what he was thinking about doing to their precious daughter, they would've taken you with them in a heartbeat.

Jungkook was in your house as soon as your parents had left, knocking on your door not even five minutes later. You were surprised to see him but invited him in anyway, both of you taking a seat on the couch.

It wasn't long before your idea of watching tv and spending time together turned into something else.

It started with Jungkook softly spreading pecks from your shoulder to your neck before biting the flesh, due to the unexpected pain you turned to face him, only to have Jungkook crash your lips together.

The kiss started out slow but it got bolder once you felt his hand starting to rise up, going from your knee to the inside of your thighs.

"W-wait, wait," your hands found purchase on his chest as you pushed him slightly off of you. "J-jungkook wait."

"What's wrong? Is everything okay?" the way you avoided looking at him said more than words could ever. "Do you want me to stop?" you shook your head, eyes remaining on the floor. "Then what's wrong baby?"

"It's just that -" you finally looked at him, feeling yourself blush once again. "I-I don't, I don't know what I'm doing."

Jungkook let out a groan at your confession, suddenly feeling like his jeans had become tighter.

Unfortunately, that seemed to have the opposite effect on you as you curled up, hugging your legs close to your chest, and avoided looking at him.

Muttering curses to himself, Jungkook quickly composed himself before talking. "It's okay baby," he spoke in a soft tone, taking hold of your chin so you would face him. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

He let go of you and stood up to take care of his problem in the bathroom, but before he could even take a step Jungkook felt your hand grab his. He turned to face you but you still refused to do the same.

"I-I don't want you to stop," your hand gripped his tightly. "I-I'm just nervous."

He crouched down until he was at eye level with you, took your chin in his fingers, and forced you to look at him. "It's okay baby, we can stop whenever you want," he ran his fingers through your hair. "The important thing is that you're comfortable."

You nodded before speaking in a soft voice. "Okay, I trust you,"

As carefully as he could, Jungkook made you lay down on the couch, climbing on top of you just as carefully. "Remember," he said, spreading kisses down your neck. "If you ever want to stop-"

"I-I'll tell you," you interrupted, leaning your head against the arm of the couch and giving him better access to your neck.

As Jungkook spread bite marks on your neck and collarbones, his left hand groped your breast for a while before slowly descending down your body until it reached the hem of your skirt, which he pulled up. Your panties were pure white, a fitting color he thought to himself.

He kept on you as his fingers started rubbing you through your underwear, your soft quiet moans were music to his ears.

While looking at your face, Jungkook decided that he would take your first time while fully clothed, not wanting to overwhelm you too much. He would have the rest of the weekend to make you comfortable enough with him.

He pushed your panties to the side, rubbing your wetness around your slit before inserting a finger inside, making you gasp at the foreign feeling.

"How does it feel baby?" he thrusted into you slowly, wanting you to get used to the feeling. "You good?"

"I-It's d-different," you moaned out. "B-but g-good."

He gave you one of his bunny smiles. "I'm gonna put a second finger in, okay?"

You nodded and let out a loud moan when he inserted a second finger in you, switching between curling his fingers and thrusting into you.

"J-jungkook," you kept moaning his name like a mantra.

Your walls clenching around his fingers, telling him that you were close, making him speed up his thrusts, becoming rougher and faster.

With one last loud moan of his name, you broke apart for him, releasing all over his hand as your legs started to feel like jello.

Jungkook pulled his fingers slowly from you, making you whimper at the sudden feeling. He kept his eyes on your breathless figure as he sucked your juices from his fingers.

Afterward, he left to pick up a towel to clean you up, and as he did he noticed your confused look, of which he reached to leave a kiss on your forehead. "You did good baby,"

"I-Is that all?" you asked softly.

"It's enough for now," he gave you another peck. "We'll take baby steps until you feel comfortable," he ran his fingers through your hair once more. "I'll wait for as long as I have until you fully give yourself to me, no matter how long."

You whined and reached to kiss his lips and then wrapped your arms around him, feeling loved by the one everyone seemed to fear.

You knew you'd be alright with Jungkook by your side, come rain or shine.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic

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monzabee · 8 months

Text

sunday blues – ms47 (+18)

masterlist || part 1 || part 2 ||

Summary: The one where Mick helps you the best way he knows when you’re feeling insecure.

Pairing: mick schumacher x vettel!reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: angst, crying, cursing, fluff, insecurities and self-depreciating thoughts, smut, unprotected sex (wrap your willy, don’t be silly!), google translate german, praise words, minors dni!!

Request: “Hello! I am so obsessed with your recent fic with Mick and Seb's daughter, so I was wondering if you could write something where she is feeling very insecure and stressed and he just kind of helps her through her feelings, maybe something smutty to show her how much he lovers her body or something?👀”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this request has been sitting in my inbox for longer than i’d like to admit, but i’m so happy i got it done! it’s been a while since i wrote smut so if it doesn’t make sense i sincerely apologise, but as always thank you to the anon for the request and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Mick didn’t expect to find you the way he did when he was leaving your flat to take Angie on her morning walk, he really didn’t – because when he was leaving this morning, after having kissed you goodbye while you were still asleep, everything seemed fine. And although he is not the one to stress in these type of situations, his mind automatically goes to the worst possible scenario when he comes home to you crying on your couch in your bathrobe. So he does the expected, he asks whether you hurt yourself – the answer is no. Did something happen to anyone from your family? Nu-uh. Is it social media related? Nope. Did someone physically did something to you? No Mick, you locked the door before you left the house.

Every possible question that comes to his mind being met with a negative answer from you has him perplexed to say the very least, so he takes a seat next to you and offers what he’s sure will put you in a better mood; cuddles. With you in his arms and Angie on your lap, you do feel better, but he makes sure to ask any other possible option that comes to his mind.

“Did you try to bake cookies again?” His voice wanders off, his fingers running through the ends of your braid.

You lightly punch his arm, and then return your attention back to petting Angie as you pout and mumble out, “My cookies were not burnt, they were lightly toasted.”

He lets out a sigh, and after pressing numerous kisses to your hair to coax you, he gently raises your chin up for you to meet his eyes. “I give up, please just tell me what’s bothering you, hase.”

There’s a fresh wave of tears accumulating in your eyes, threatening to fall down your cheeks, and it absolutely makes his heart clench. You lightly push yourself out of his arms, careful not to disturb the dog sprawled on both of you guys’ lap, “Nothing, you’ll think it’s stupid.”

“No I won’t,” he promises, fighting you in order to gather you back into his arms, but you’re not above fighting dirty – meaning using your nails to keep him away. “Are–” He takes a moment to pause and clear his throat, “Are you on your period?”

Mick watches as your lips part and a sound of indignation break free from the back of your throat. Without bothering Angie too much, you turn in your place to swat at his chest as you hiss, “You are an ass, Mick.”

“Bu– I didn’t mean –” He scrambles to get out, but you’re already walking towards your bathroom, and all he can do is watch you walk away from him. This time, his eyes meet Angie’s, and he can swear his dog is giving him the biggest side-eye known to mankind, but he can only breath out a, “I messed that one up big time, didn’t I?”

Angie gets up from his lap to walk towards the bedroom. Mick soon follows closely behind towards the bathroom.

You can hear his knocks and a faint Can I come in?, through the closed bathroom door, but as you try to tame the mess that is your hair, you call out to him, “No!” And because Mick is a gentleman, and arguably the best boyfriend in the universe, he actually waits outside the bathroom. Eventually, though, you feel bad making him wait outside by the door and with a final glance in the mirror, you stomp a few steps and push the bathroom door open, revealing Mick's concerned face.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, but before he can continue with the rest of his sentence, you cut him off with yet another swat of your hand to his chest and another fresh wave of tears.

“I am not, and I repeat – not, on my period.” With a final hit to his chest, you walk back to your previous spot in front of the sink and try to brush the knots in your hair.

Wincing at the way you’re aggressively dragging the brush through your hair, Mick walks towards you to stand behind you at the sink and gently takes the brush out of your hand. “Here, let me do it.” And though you don’t want to admit, he’s gentle yet successful as he brushes your hair out for you. With his eyes occasionally drifting to watch you over the bathroom mirror, he dutifully manages to finish brushing your hair, and soon after you are back in his arms as he wraps them around your middle. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s been bothering you?”

You shake your head with another sniffle, “It’s not important.”

“Hase, please,” he practically begs as his attention is drawn to your puffy eyes, “it is important if you’re still crying over it.”

With a guilty look on your face and an apprehensive voice that absolutely breaks his heart, you mumble, “You really want to know?” This time it is you who is meeting his eyes through the mirror to see him nod sheepishly, and as you occupy yourself with his fingers you find yourself mumbling again, “My, uh, my boobs are too small.”

“Your what, is what?” Mick stammers in surprise, blinking at the unexpected confession. His expression shifts from confusion to realization, and his fingers tangle themselves with yours. “Hase, are you serious?”

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, embarrassed by your own admission. “Yes, and don’t call me that.”

“What?” With more confusion he stammers out, “I– I thought you liked it, it’s cute.”

He watches you let out a soft whimper, and then throw your head back against his chest in frustration. After sniffling and, yet, another fresh wave of tears, which Mick quickly wipes away as he keeps his gaze locked to yours, “I’m not supposed to be cute.”

“Oh?” he asks, “And what are you supposed to be, then?”

“I don’t know!” The sudden sob breaking out from the back of your throat has his eyes widening in surprise, and also concern – but for the first time that morning, you seem to be talking about what’s been wrong, so he has no intention to interrupt you. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be anymore! I can’t be too perfect or too flawed, too confident or too uncertain; people have opinions and they are not afraid to voice them, so I end up feeling not enough for the majority of time.” Mick’s hold tightens around as you let out a particularly violent sob, “And my boyfriend has bigger boobs than me!”

Mick's eyes widen in both surprise and disbelief as your last sentence tumbles out, and for a moment, there's a pause in the air as he processes your words. “So you’re sad, because you think your boobs are not big enough?”

“Well yeah,” you mumble, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious under his gaze. “I told you you’d think it’s stupid.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Mick announces, “everybody gets insecure sometimes; what I don’t understand is why on earth you would compare yourself like that.” Mick's fingers gently wipe away a tear from your cheek, and he turns you towards himself to lift your chin up, “You’re perfect the way you are, hase.”

You let out a shaky breath, his words slowly starting to sink in. “I just don’t want to feel like this all the time.”

“I know, darling,” he coos and then offers you a gentle smile, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your cheek. “You’re perfect, you hear me? My perfect girl, hm?” He ignores a whiny objection in the form of you dragging out his name. “The kindest,” he leans in towards you, “and the smartest,” then presses his lips against your forehead, “the most beautiful girl inside and out.”

“Micki,” his names comes off from your lips in a whispery sigh, your head turning sideways as his nose nudges your jaw. His warm breath tickles your skin as he continues to nuzzle against your jaw, his lips brushing over your skin in gentle, feather-light kisses. His lips stretch when you let out a soft giggle, “It tickles.”

Mick's lips curve into a playful smile against your jaw, and he continues to pepper your skin with those feather-light kisses, this time intentionally causing a cascade of giggles from you. His touch is tender, his affection evident in each sweet gesture.

“It does, doesn't it?” he murmurs, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine as he moves his kisses to your cheek.

You squirm slightly in his embrace, the ticklish sensation mixed with delight. “Baby, stop,” you manage to say between giggles, even as your fingers find their way to his sides, retaliating with a gentle poke.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” With a final loving peck to your cheek, Mick relents and holds you closer to himself as your giggles slowly subside. As your giggles subside, Mick tilts his head slightly to meet your gaze. His eyes, still filled with tenderness, lock onto yours, and he brushes a few strands of hair away from your face. “Feeling better?” he asks softly.

After taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself, you give him a tight lipped smile. “I’ll be fine, Micki, I promise.” Ignoring the look he gives you, which tells you that he doesn’t believe a word you say, you reach up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for being here, you know?”

“Of course, hase,” he mumbles in thought, the material of your robe feeling soft under his touch as he lets the cogs turn in his head. With his eyebrows furrowing, he grabs you by the waist and raises you up to sit you on the bathroom counter. “On the second hand, I think I need to show you just how much I appreciate you, hm?” Ignoring yet another objecting sound from your lips, he places a kiss on the juncture of where your jaw meets your neck, and moves his kisses down until he’s met with your robe again. With a playful glint in his eyes, he lets his fingers work the knot of your robe’s belt.

His eyes widen as his brain registers the fact that you are not wearing anything underneath the robe, and you reply to his flabbergasted look with an innocent shrug of your shoulders as you give him the excuse, “I was about to take a shower before I… well, had a moment.”

You watch as a string of expletives leave his lips, and he needs to take a moment to recover as he mumbles, “Guter Gott.” Though, as your breathy giggles bring him back to the present, he pushes your robe off your shoulders in a quick move, and you realise there is a much darker look in his eyes when your eyes meet again, “And you think my girls are not enough.”

Before you can answer, his hands are quick to grab your breasts as he gives them a firm squeeze, causing you to forget whatever clever comeback you had and instead let out a shallow exhale. “They’re small,” you complain, but he is quick to shut you down by pinching your left nipple between his two fingers – not enough to make it actually hurt, but enough to shock you into shutting up and letting out a small yelp instead.

“Stop talking,” the sharper undertone of his voice has you biting the corner of your bottom lip in anticipation, but his eyes soften as he looks at the bewildered look on your face. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he fixes you with his stare as his hands go back to gently handling your breasts, “I’m going to fuck you in front of this mirror so that you can see just how beautiful you are, and you’re not going to say a word unless it’s a moan or telling me to stop.”

With a slacked jaw you stare at your boyfriend, your sweet Mick who is soft and treats you as if you’re a china doll most of the time. But now, he looks at you with a stern look in his eyes, and the fact that they are a few shades darker than their normally baby-blue colour tells you that he means business. “Can you kiss me first?” Your voice is breathy, because everything about Mick makes it harder to breath harder, and the corner of his mouth rise in a small smirk as his brain registers the desperation in your voice. “Please.”

“How can I not when my pretty girl is being so well-mannered?” He watches as you straighten up in your place, which causes you to come closer to his face and he lets out a low chuckle. “Patience, baby,” he moves his hands to cup your face and his thumbs gently caress the tops your cheeks. He teases you by dipping his head until his lips are touching yours, and he lets out another chuckle when you chase his lips when he slightly pulls away. But deciding to alleviate you from your pain, he finally presses his lips against yours – though his kiss is nothing like his soft touch from mere moments ago.

His tongue explores your mouth as if he hasn’t kissed you a million times before, but his kiss is as bruising as they come. He draws all kinds of noises from you, with a single kiss, and it would be concerning how much you lose yourself in him if it wasn’t too good. You manage to nip at his lower lip just as he is starting to pull away.

“Gut sein,” he mumbles, the small (but accomplished) smile on your lips bringing a smile to his own. “Now, what do you say to me for the kiss, hm?”

Be good, he says – you can totally do that. His lips move down to your jaw to then your neck, and your lips form a perfect ‘O’ when he starts nipping and sucking on your skin. “Thank you for the kiss, Micki,” you mumble breathily, your hands grabbing his forearms to move his hands from your face back onto your breasts. He lets an appreciative hum as his hands go back to fondling the skin under his hands, which elicits a louder moan from your lips, “Oh, that feels good.”

Mick’s reply comes in the form of another hum as he keeps on sucking hickeys, which will undoubtedly make you complain to him tomorrow, but the way he handles you is enough to convince you not to care. After he’s satisfied with handiwork; he pulls back from your neck to only dip his head more to take one of your nipples to his mouth while his hand is busy groping the other breast, causing you to weave your fingers through his hair to press him closer to your chest. His ministrations, combined with his intention of marking up your chest as he did your neck has you ending up as a whimpering mess on the bathroom counter, calling out Mick’s name to do something more in hopes of him keeping his promise. His voice is husky as he asks, “Now do you believe me?”

Your hands are on him the second he pulls away and his breathing is a mess while you scramble to get off his shirt; your hands gliding across his chest down to the start of his running shorts he has from his morning run, and he has to restrain himself from letting out a groan as you sit in front of him with wide eyes and lips that are pink from all the biting. You voice is also husky as you answer his question with one of your own, “Are you going to fuck me now, liebste?”

He smiles sweetly at your attempt of trying to take back the reigns, and he tries to appear in though as he slowly pulls you off the counter. “In a second, I have to check something first.” He quickly turns you around to face the mirror, where you watch his hand’s movements as it slides from your waist down to the front of your sleeping shorts. The gasp that leaves from between your lips causes his sweet smile to morph into something more mischievous, and you catch his smirk on the mirror in front of you as he lets his fingers feel the wetness between your legs. “You’re soaked, hase, I think you’re more than ready.”

“Yes, please,” your voice comes off in a whimper as you slip your hand behind you to palm the bulge that presses onto your back through the material of his shorts that hang lower on his hips. You let out another moan when his fingers make their way towards your clit, which is his way of reminding you of who’s in charge – and it’s most definitely not you given the fact that you almost topple over the counter when he presses his fingers with slightly more pressure. You hear him let out a low groan when you move your hand slightly, but his fingers continue their movements which causes you to let out small mews of pleasure.

After he pulls his fingers out of your short, and consequently makes a show of licking them clean that leaves you quite literally panting with need. Smirking at your reaction, he taps the outside of your upper thigh, “Spread your legs, baby, watch me on the mirror, hm?” He makes sure to place your hands on the countertop after he’s done taking of the remainder of your clothing and underwear. A part of you is sure he’s secretly enjoying the attention and how good you’re being as you silently watch him ges out of his own shorts and underwear. “You ready?”

“Mhm-hm,” you mumble as you nod quickly and gather your hair on one of your shoulders.

Mick presses his lips on your bare shoulder as he grabs your waist with one of his hands, grabs the base of his cock with his free hand and guides it between your legs – a gasp leaves your lips as the tip of his cock presses into you. He’s slow as he guides the rest of his cock into your pussy, and you drag out his name under your breath. “So good,” he murmurs as his hand joins his other one on your hip, and he tries to keep his hips still to give you an opportunity to get used to it, “always feel so good for me.”

Your hands grab the marble tighter as the stretch has you wanting to just press your hips backwards against his, “Move, Micki, please.”

He meets your eyes through the mirror and chuckles lowly, “Patience, baby,” he repeats his words from before – but he obliges you nonetheless, as he pushes in all the way in a move that knocks all the breath out of your lungs. He is slow as he starts moving his hips in a steady rhythm. But soon he picks up the rhythm, and every snap of his hips to yours has you becoming more and more of a whimpering mess. His eyes capture your blush that is painting your cheeks and he lets his eyes wander lower where it has started to move towards your chest, which he’s more than welcome to adore the view of your breasts moving with every move his hips makes.

The moans that rip from the back of your throat become louder, stronger and more demanding as Mick decides to thrust himself deeper into you – a sweet reminder that you’ll definitely be feeling him for the rest of the day and all of tomorrow. You can’t seem to form sentences with words other than more, please and various forms of his name, but he grants you what you want when one of your hands leave the counter to pull him in for a kiss. It’s messy and rushed, but it leaves you lightheaded as you find yourself begging for more when he pulls away. “No, no, I want more,” a high-pitched whine begs, and you drag out the next word, “please.”

Mick lowers his head enough for his lips to be level with your ear. “Look into the mirror, hase,” his breath hits your skin, and he rewards you with a sweet smile, “you see what I see?”

“I don’t see you giving me another kiss,” you grumble, but quickly stop rebutting when his hips deliver a rather sharp push, “fuck, that feels good.”

“Look how beautiful you look,” he pants, his laboured breath hitting your ear, “the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” You’re sure your skin will be bruised from the way his fingers grabs onto your hips – not that it would look out of place with other parts of your body he’s already marked you on. “And you say you’re not enough, God, hase.”

Your hand snakes its way from his neck towards his hair as your fingers thread through his locks. “I need more, Micki, please.”

But unfortunately for you, Mick has every intention of ignoring your pleas. “Do you know why I call you hase?” Between the haze of him fucking you into the counter and his breathy words, you manage to give him a weak shake of your head. “It’s because I love seeing your tits when you’re bouncing on my cock.” To accentuate his point, he holds your hips in place as he delivers sharper thrusts.

“I thought it was because of the way I scrunch my nose,” you gasp while pulling at his hair. Though it is not exactly the part he chooses to focus on – instead, he watches as your already blushed cheeks become a deeper shade. Another gasp, this time laced with a louder moan, is ripped from you when he continues the sharper movement of his hips, “I– Mick, right there!”

“Shh, I got you,” he soothes your moans as he stills the movement of his hips for a minute to hike your left leg to rest it on the counter and then grabs the hand you have raised up to do the same, “hang on for me, okay?” He watches as you give him a tentative look through the mirror as he wraps his arm across your middle to reach for your clit as he harshly pushes himself back into you.

Combined with his thumb applying pressure onto your clit and the way he’s filling you up once again causes you to moan his name louder than before. “I’m not going to last,” the whiny words leave your lips before you can stop them, and he gives you a smirk as his fingers quicken their pace, “fuck, Micki, just like that.”

Lost in the pleasure building up in your lower stomach, you don’t realise his free hand moving up to cup your breast until he’s pinching your nipple between his fingers to draw out another moan from your lips, which sounds more like a scream because of all the please you’re feeling. “Do you see how beautiful you are? Look at yourself, baby.”

“Please Mick,” you let out a moan meddled with a sob as you watch your reflection in the mirror – the way your body is shaking with every movement of his hips and the way his front is pressed into your back, the disheveled look of your sweaty hair, and the way your wide eyes accompany your blushed cheeks, “make me come, please, I’m so close.” Your words must’ve acted as a source of motivation, since he quickens the pace of his hips and presses his thumb more as he continues the steady movements, which has you chanting out nothing but praises and a string of yes, yes, yes, yes.

Regardless of the condom he’s wearing, Mick can tell when you’re close as you clench around him, and he urges you to let go by mumbling into your skin, “It’s okay, hase, let it go.” And who are you to not give your boyfriend what he asks of you? So he’s there to guide you through your release while you sink your nails into his biceps to still yourself. He’s not far as he reaches his own peak and spills into you, which pulls yet another moan from you as you also hear his loud groan – a sound you’ll never get sick of hearing. You gasp lightly when he eventually pulls out of you; though when he sees the tired smile you give through the mirror (and yes, maybe he does call you hase because you do scrunch your nose while smiling), he responds with one of his own as he presses small kisses to your hairline, “There’s my smile.”

“I love you,” your raspy voice whispers, and suddenly you’re lost once again in the way he’s looking at you – a habit you’ll gladly keep.

“I love you too,” he responds, his nose nuzzling your jaw before giving you a sweet kiss, and it makes him chuckle lightly when you’re chasing his lips once again when he pulls away. “Come on, now we both need a shower.” The sounds of your giggles when he picks you up to get both of you into the shower, and as you hid your face in the crook of his neck you hear him mumble, “Mein hübsches mädchen.” My pretty girl.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #mick schumacher smut #mick schumacher fluff

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laneywrld · 3 days

Text

alienated | Lewis Hamilton

one shot

word count: 8.6k

warnings: angst

you've been on that spaceship all alone.

You and Lewis had been separated for three months, which, if you think about is very long when you compare it to the amount of time you spent apart when you were together.

For four years, you and Lewis were inseparable, never spending more than a week apart. But that was then, and this is now, with three months of separation stretching out before you.

The two of you separated for one straightforward reason: You were the only person present in the relationship. Between his silence and your overthinking, it became a mess in the end.

Leaving Lewis was a heart-wrenching decision. The man you once believed would be your future husband, the man you were once engaged to, was now a distant memory.

As you reflect on the past, you realize how much you had been neglected. This realization strengthens your resolve and affirms your decision to leave, reminding you of your worth.

You weren’t sure if Lewis loved you. He didn't communicate with you, show you any affection, or pay you any attention. He didn't put time aside for you. It was hell being in a one-sided relationship.

It began to be exhausting putting in all the effort and trying to get him to see you because lately, you hadn't felt that.

It was a painful realization. Lewis, the man you loved, was slowly but surely draining you. His presence no longer brought you joy or adoration; it made you miserable. You felt like a ghost, unseen and unappreciated.

But even then, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. He'd had a hard season, was constantly stressed, and life wasn't going as planned. So, one more try: you would halt your efforts for one week while he was away in Miami.

It was a test, really, to see if he was still putting in the effort, a plan meant to expose whether he even thought about you or remotely cared. If he could go a week without you in any form, he didn't deserve you or appreciate you. That would be obvious. Or he would notice, and he'd get his act together. But a part of you lacked faith in the latter option. In the end, his actions would give you an answer to the question you've had for a while.

Would you want to stay with someone like that? Someone who's okay without you or, worse, doesn’t even notice your change?

May fifth, the day of the race, would mark your fourth anniversary, and while he would be away, you were still curious to see what he had planned or if he remembered at all.

Lewis left on Wednesday. It wasn't like your old send-offs. There were no passionate moments in bed, him leaving you something to remember him by or even your classic bye-bye brunches. He rolled his bags from your shared home while you were still deep in your slumber.

You awoke to an empty, cold house.

You spent that day alone, with Roscoe, of course. Spending the next two days cuddled up to your fur baby and taking him on exciting new adventures. You nearly slipped up and sent Lewis many pictures and videos of you and Roscoe plenty of times, only to remember your end goal and lock your phone with a sigh.

When Friday came around, and Lewis still hadn't so much as sent you a single text, you had an inkling of what you'd have to do come Sunday.

It was almost as if Roscoe could sense your turmoil; in return, he was extra clingy. He followed you everywhere, lying at your feet on the couch, snuggled into your side in bed, and even sitting patiently at your feet as you sat on the toilet. You could only sigh as you revel in the time you had with him. He was your good boy, your first child. The thought of missing him was nearly enough for you to call off your intentions, but then your therapist's words rang through your mind like a harsh reminder.

"Sometimes, you have to sacrifice your relationship with another for the sake of one; I know it might be hard to think about losing your friends and your little guy if you do find it's time to leave him, but in the end, your job is to save yourself. Never feel guilty for thinking of yourself for once. You'll always love them, yeah? He'll remember how much you loved him, and you'll miss him; he'll miss you. But how long can you survive in that relationship?"

You remember spending that entire session crying over how much you'd miss Roscoe as you contemplated the cons of leaving your relationship.

In the end, your job is to save yourself.

On Saturday, you stayed awake even when your eyes begged you to close them. You kept your phone tucked beside you, and your eyes dropped as the clock hit twelve.

Every year before that, Lewis celebrated your love immediately. For three hours, you waited for something as simple as a text or a post—something to acknowledge you. After a while, your exhaustion won, and you succumbed to your tiredness.

You tried not to get your hopes up when you awoke in the morning, your anniversary day. You felt like an idiot as you turned over your phone, and there was nothing from Lewis. Your expectations were still very much high, which is why you scrambled from the bed and rushed to the front door. Your intent to see if there were any florals delivered to your doorstep proved pointless as you swung open the door, and the only delivery had been your Amazon package.

With a disappointing sigh, you snatched it from the porch and called for Roscoe. You slipped on your Birkenstocks, leading him outside to relieve himself. You sat on the patio, bonnet on and nightgown pooling around you as you watched Roscoe run around in the yard.

It was becoming real then.

You stayed outside for an hour, playing around with Roscoe, chasing him, him chasing you, and even tossing his ball until you decided it was time to take action.

You hauled Roscoe into the home, giving him fresh water and food as you connected to the speaker and blasted your music.

Your impending decision wasn't so much impending anymore. You knew what you needed to do; sooner was better than later.

It was one in the afternoon, and if he hadn't shown any signs of acknowledgment at that time, you knew it wouldn't come.

A small portion of you wanted to cry, burst into tears, and scream because of how hurt you were. But the dominant part of you was just angry. Lewis would learn his lesson; he'd miss you, and you'd make sure he felt it.

You wanted him to miss you like you missed him. He'd find himself craving your random calls and appreciating your silly texts. He'd crave your warm embrace again, and he'd want to die without your unique smile and your loving eyes.

He'd want everything he had taken for granted because that is precisely what he had done. He made you feel alone, even when he was there. You were the shadow lurking in your home — the distant body in your shared bed.

You deserved someone who always told you he loved you, always hugged you, and never left without a kiss. You deserve a man who talks to you about everything, who cares about how your day went and how you feel. You shouldn't give everything and get nothing; you don't deserve that.

You've been nothing but superb to him. You always showed up for him when it mattered, embraced him when he was down or even when he was happy, cooked meals for him when he was home and made every dinner special for him. You asked him about his day every day, and you listened.

Lewis couldn't say the same, and he wouldn't be able to. And that was the straw on the camel's back. You refused to give that level of love to a man who wouldn't reciprocate it. You didn't care how much you loved him; that was a level of disrespect and negligence you weren't willing to tolerate.

You weren't raised to accept the bare minimum, which was precisely what he gave you.

That was your moment of realization as you packed your bags. Lewis was due back Tuesday night, so you had the remainder of Sunday and Monday to gather your belongings and make your furtive exit.

Lewis made P7; you knew this because as you separated your belongings from his, you had the race streaming on the TV mounted in your room.

On Twitter, you saw him later that night out partying, and that only angered you for approximately ten minutes before you were only feeling disappointed in the man. You'd never been good at the art of detachment until then.

Suddenly, you weren't angry or furious with Lewis anymore; you felt content with your decision as you zipped up your last suitcase and taped up the last of your boxes.

As night fell and night arrived, you lay in your shared bed for the last time, Roscoe's head on your tummy as he snored. Your hand caressed his head in gentle rubs, and you sigh.

When the clock hits twelve and your anniversary officially passes, you feel like an idiot for even having faith in the man.

First thing in the morning, the driveway was filled with moving trucks and workers. You sat patiently on the couch as you waited for Anthony to arrive. When the sun begins to set, and the loading is done, you see headlights beam through the windows.

The door opens and closes softly, and there they stand, Anthony and Nicholas with glum faces.

"Are you sure, love?" Anthony whispers as he approaches you. He looks so distressed that you can only nod back at him. He sits beside you, taking one of your hands in his.

"As long as you are sure." And you break down into a fit of tears as Lewis' father comforts you, even as you leave his son. Nicholas takes the spot beside you, his hand rubbing your shoulder to comfort you.

"You gave him time and chances," Anthony hums, his free hand rubbing circles on your back. "I love my son, and I love you just as much; we will always love you."

Nicholas hums in agreement. "Still going to be our family."

You know you must leave before you allow your love for his family to deter you. So you take one last shaky breath, standing to your feet, where Roscoe waits patiently. You squat down, tears falling from your eyes and soaking into his fur.

"I love you, buddy. So much, you're my good boy." You whisper, kissing his head over and over.

You stand again, looking at Anthony and Nicholas one last time and pulling them into separate hugs. "Thank you." You whisper out and pass the keys over and instructions on properly caring for Roscoe, even if they will only have him for less than a day.

"I'll be waiting to talk to you again," Anthony announces, and you nod.

"Don't tell him?" you request. I've left him a letter upstairs; I'd like him to find out on my terms.

They nod, and you trek through the house and out of the front doors to what used to be the home you planned on spending the rest of your life in.

As you close the door, you hear Roscoe's incessant whines and scratches against it, and you sob all over again as you continue your journey to your car.

In the end, your job is to save yourself.

You weren't selfish for choosing yourself, especially over a person whose life you're choosing to walk out of because you didn't feel as if you belonged in it anymore. You didn't belong in that house anymore, in that relationship. You didn't belong with Lewis. It was a harsh and painful reality. But change is unbearable, and from change comes growth. And that growth can also be painful. But nothing would ever compare to the pain of staying stuck somewhere you don't belong. Nothing would ever hurt you more than loving a man more than he loved you.

You always preached about "when you know, you know." You've always felt it, that gut feeling that it was time for something new. You were great at knowing when to move on and let go and acknowledging when those shifts needed to be addressed. You loved to say out with the old and in with the new. The point is that you never struggled with trusting the process of life until life told you that you weren't meant for Lewis.

This was the first time that you doubted the imminent change. This change meant that you were fleeing from your love. As you backed out of the driveway, your vision blurred by burning tears; you could only cry as you mourned the love you once had. But this was all for a greater purpose, the purpose of you finding joy in life again because you sure have felt drained of it.

Tuesday came and went, and as night fell, Lewis pulled into the driveway. Given the closed four-car garage, he did not find it suspicious that your car was missing. He grunted as he pulled his suitcase from the trunk and eased up the steps and into his foyer.

He isn't immediately greeted by Roscoe or your arms wrapping around him, and he squints when he sees how dark and cold it is inside the home.

That put him on edge.

You always liked a warm glow emitting through the home, so a dim lamp was always on to illuminate the open floor plan. At night, you liked the home to be slightly warm, like a spring breeze, yet there was an icy chill running through it.

He calls out your name as he settles his bags by the door. He even calls Roscoe, and when he hears nothing, he sets a fast pace up the stairs.

"Babe!"

No response.

When Lewis reaches the second level, he immediately heads to your guys' room. When he hits the light switch, he suddenly becomes aware of how cold and barren the room looks and feels.

You're not snuggled into the middle of the bed like he usually finds you; his pillow isn't locked in your arms and held to your chest. You're not there.

Your small trinkets are no longer scattered around the room, and he rushes to the closet; none of your belongings are there. Lewis feels his heart rate accelerate as fear creeps into his body.

He turns to face the bed again, and when he sees your nightstand, he rushes over; your ring sits in the same velvet box he proposed to you with, and a piece of paper is lying underneath it. He snatches them both up, his mind reeling, and suddenly, he feels like he could throw up.

I've made a decision that was hard for me in the beginning and became clearer as the days went on. I've gotten comfortable with the bare minimum. It's been my normal for a while. I'm choosing to evolve, grow, and learn to accept what I deserve. It'd be more challenging for me to stay with you than it would be for me to leave you. I've realized that. I couldn't handle it anymore. It was the same routine; you never noticed me or acknowledged me. I've tried to address this issue, and it's done nothing; you've done nothing but give me baseless promises. I can no longer stick around for a relationship where I've been the only one present. No matter how much I love you. And I really did love you, with everything in me. I should’ve never allowed myself to get comfortable with how you neglected and fell out of love with me. I've chosen you repeatedly, but this time, I must choose me; I have to, Lewis. Happy anniversary.

Your dad has Roscoe.

Lewis squeezes his eyes shut and clutches his chest with a firm grip. His body quivers as he slumps onto the ground, his back against the bed frame. Lewis wasn't new to panic attacks, especially with all of the stress he took on from his job. But this was his first time having to suffer through one without you.

The world seemed to close in on Lewis, a suffocating weight pressing down on his chest as his heart raced uncontrollably. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, each inhalation a struggle against the invisible hands that seemed to be squeezing the air from his lungs.

His vision blurred, the edges of his sight becoming hazy and indistinct as panic tightened its grip. Thoughts raced through his mind like a whirlwind, a cacophony of fears and anxieties swirling around him, threatening to engulf him in their dark embrace.

Desperately, he tried to ground himself, to find some semblance of stability amidst the chaos. He focused on his breath, trying to slow the frantic rhythm of his heart. But each attempt felt like grasping at smoke, his efforts slipping through his fingers like sand.

His body trembled with the intensity of his panic, a cold sweat breaking out across his skin as waves of nausea washed over him. It was as if he were trapped in a nightmare from which there was no escape, a relentless onslaught of terror that threatened to consume him whole.

And yet, somewhere deep within him, a flicker of resilience remained. Despite the overwhelming darkness that threatened to engulf him, he clung to the hope that this too shall pass, that he would emerge from the storm-battered but unbowed. But this hope came to him as visions of you.

In the midst of the chaos swirling around him, Lewis found himself grasping desperately for something, anything, to anchor him to reality. And amidst the turmoil, your memories came flooding back like a beacon of light cutting through the darkness.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be enveloped by the warmth of those memories. The sound of your laughter echoed in his mind, a melody that calmed the frantic rhythm of his heart. He remembered the way your smile could light up even the darkest of days, the way your touch could banish the shadows of doubt and fear.

With each breath, he summoned forth another memory, another moment shared between you two. The way you would lose yourselves in the conversation for hours on end, the way you would always know just what to say to ease his troubled mind.

It was as if you were there with him, a comforting presence in the midst of the storm. And with each memory, each recollection of your time together, the panic began to recede, like a tide slowly ebbing away from the shore.

In those moments, surrounded by the echoes of your love, Lewis found the strength to carry on and learn to breathe again. Though you were no longer by his side, your memory was a lifeline, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, love endures. And with that realization, he took a deep breath, the weight of the world lifting ever so slightly from his shoulders as he found solace in the embrace of their shared past.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the tide began to recede. His breaths grew steadier, the racing of his heart gradually slowing to a more manageable pace. The world around him began to regain its focus, the blurred edges sharpening into clarity once more.

As Lewis rereads your letter, a torrent of emotions overwhelms him, but solace is elusive. Instead, a heavyweight settles in his chest, burdened with the weight of misery and guilt.

Your words, filled with love and longing, only serve to magnify his pain. With each sentence, the guilt gnaws at him, a relentless voice whispering accusations in his ear. He replays the moments leading up to your departure, dissecting his actions and words, searching for where he went wrong.

The memories of your time together, once a source of comfort, now feel like daggers piercing his heart. Each moment of happiness is tainted by the knowledge of your absence, a constant reminder of his failure to hold onto what he cherished most.

As tears blur his vision, Lewis finds himself consumed by remorse. He wishes he could turn back time, rewrite the script, and undo the mistakes that led to this moment. But the past is immutable, and he is left to grapple with the consequences of his actions.

In the depths of his misery, Lewis feels utterly alone, adrift in a sea of regret and self-recrimination. He longs for a reprieve from the agony that threatens to consume him, but it remains elusive, just out of reach.

And yet, amidst the darkness, a flicker of hope remains. Deep down, Lewis knows that redemption is possible and that forgiveness can be found even in the darkest of times. But for now, he must navigate the storm of his emotions, clinging to the hope that one day, he will find peace once more. That you loved him enough to give him one more chance.

In the quiet moments of the day, when the hustle and bustle of life subsides, you find yourself grappling with a sense of emptiness that lingers despite your efforts to embrace change. Three months have passed since you made the difficult decision to leave Lewis behind, and while you've tried to convince yourself that it was for the best, a part of you still aches for what was lost.

Life has moved on, as it always does, and you've thrown yourself into new experiences and opportunities, hoping to fill the void left by Lewis' absence. But no matter how hard you try, there's a lingering sense of incompleteness that tugs at your heartstrings, a yearning for the familiarity and comfort of what once was.

In the midst of laughter and celebration, there are moments when you find yourself lost in thought, your mind wandering back to the memories you shared with Lewis. The sound of his laughter, the warmth of his embrace – they haunt you like ghosts, reminders of a love that once burned bright but has since faded into the recesses of memory.

You've tried to convince yourself that you've moved on, that you're better off without him, but deep down, you know the truth. Life may be different now, but it's not necessarily better. There's a void within you that no amount of change or distraction can fill, a longing for something – or someone – that you can't quite shake.

And so, as you navigate the complexities of life without Lewis by your side, you're left to confront the uncomfortable truth that sometimes, embracing change isn't enough to heal the wounds of the past. Despite your best efforts to move forward, a part of you will always be tethered to the love you left behind.

In the wake of leaving Lewis and embarking on a new chapter of life, there's a profound sense of loss that lingers within you. While you navigate the complexities of change and try to come to terms with the absence of Lewis, there's another absence that weighs heavily on your heart – the absence of your beloved canine companion, Roscoe.

Roscoe was more than just a pet; he was a faithful friend, a source of unconditional love and companionship through the highs and lows of life. His wagging behind and eager eyes greeted you each day, offering comfort and solace in moments of joy and sorrow alike.

In the quiet moments when the world slows down, and the noise fades away, you find yourself missing Roscoe more than ever. The memory of his warm presence, the feel of his fur beneath your fingertips, it all comes flooding back with a bittersweet intensity that catches you off guard.

You long to hear the sound of his paws padding across the floor, to feel the weight of his body nestled against yours as you curl up on the couch together. The emptiness left by his absence is palpable, a silent reminder of the void that he once filled in your life.

And yet, despite the pain of separation, there's a deep sense of gratitude for the time you shared with Roscoe. The memories you created together are a testament to the bond you shared, a bond that transcends time and distance.

As you navigate the complexities of life without Lewis by your side, you find yourself missing your tiny makeshift family, his family included.

Losing Lewis also meant losing the connection you had with his family, a connection that had become a source of warmth and acceptance in your life, especially given the complexities of your own family dynamics.

Growing up, your relationship with your family had always been strained, marked by misunderstandings and distance. But with Lewis' family, you found a sense of belonging that had eluded you for so long. Their laughter filled the air with joy, a stark contrast to the somber silence that often hung over your own family gatherings.

They embraced you as one of their own, welcoming you into their home and their hearts. Losing them in the separation felt like losing a piece of yourself, a painful reminder of the fragility of the connections we forge in life.

In the quiet moments when the ache of separation threatened to overwhelm you, you found yourself yearning for the familiar comforts of their presence. Their voices, their hugs – they were precious memories that you held onto tightly, like fragile treasures in the depths of your soul.

As you navigated the aftermath of the separation, you couldn't help but mourn the loss of not only Lewis but also his family. Their absence left a void in your heart, a sense of loss that weighed heavily on your spirit.

Leaving Lewis meant that you lost everything.

As you reflect on your decision to leave Lewis, the memories of his distance weigh heavily on your heart. It felt like you were carrying the weight of the relationship alone, like a lone traveler traversing a vast expanse of loneliness.

The moments of connection that once filled your days together had become increasingly rare, replaced by silence and a growing sense of isolation. It seemed as though you were the only one putting in the effort to keep the relationship alive while Lewis drifted further and further away, lost in his own thoughts and concerns.

You longed for the closeness and intimacy that had once defined your relationship, but it felt like an impossible dream, a mirage shimmering on the horizon, always just out of reach. No matter how hard you tried to bridge the gap between you, it seemed to widen with each passing day until it felt like you were living in two separate worlds.

In the end, you made the difficult decision to walk away, not because you stopped loving Lewis but because you couldn't bear the loneliness of being the only one fighting for the relationship. It was a choice born out of self-preservation, a refusal to sacrifice your own happiness and well-being for the sake of a love that had long since grown cold.

And now, as you navigate the aftermath of the separation, you can't help but wonder if things could have been different if there was anything you could have done to save what was lost. But deep down, you know that sometimes, letting go is the only way to find the happiness and fulfillment you deserve. So you go about your day, cozied up on the couch in your cozy apartment, still missing Lewis but very much understanding of your decision.

As Lewis sits alone in his room, his phone is clutched tightly in his hand, and he can't shake the feeling of desperation that washes over him. He's tried everything – calling, texting, even reaching out through social media – but all his attempts to contact you have been met with silence.

Each unanswered call and unanswered message feels like a dagger to his heart, a painful reminder of your absence and the uncertainty that now looms over his life. He wonders what he could have done differently to prevent this rift from forming between you.

His mind races with questions, each one more torturous than the last. Was there someone else, or was it simply a case of drifting apart, with two souls heading in different directions? He refused to believe that because he loved you more than life, he still does.

The lack of closure gnaws at him, a relentless ache that refuses to be quelled. He longs to hear your voice, to see your face, to have just a moment of connection with you again. But no matter how hard he tries, you remain elusive, like a ghost slipping through his fingers.

In the depths of his despair, Lewis clings to the hope that someday, somehow, he'll find a way to reach you, to break through the walls that separate you and bridge the chasm that now divides your lives.

As you step out for your first date since leaving Lewis, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbles within you. It feels like a tentative step forward, a chance to explore new possibilities and rediscover a sense of joy and companionship. Chris seemed nice, and he was attentive to you, something you hadn’t felt in a while.

But as you arrive at the restaurant, the atmosphere suddenly shifts, a sense of unease settling over you like a heavy cloak. The flash of cameras blinds you momentarily as paparazzi swarm around, their lenses trained on you like predators stalking their prey.

Caught off guard, you freeze in place, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggle to comprehend what's happening. How did they find you? And more importantly, how will Lewis react when he sees the headlines splashed across the tabloids?

The date itself fades into the background as you're engulfed by a whirlwind of anxiety and fear. Thoughts race through your mind, each one more terrifying than the last. Will Lewis think you've moved on too quickly? Will he feel betrayed by your decision to start dating again?

As the paparazzi continue to snap away, you feel exposed, vulnerable, as if your every move is being scrutinized and judged by the world at large. It's a stark reminder of the price of fame, the invasive nature of public scrutiny that leaves you feeling like a prisoner in your own life.

But still, your biggest concern was how Lewis would handle it.

He wasn't okay.

As Lewis catches wind of your date through the relentless paparazzi coverage, a storm of emotions rages within him. Jealousy, misery, and anger collide in a tumultuous whirlwind, threatening to engulf him in their tempestuous embrace.

The thought of you with another man fills him with a sense of unbearable longing and regret. He's missed you, more than he ever thought possible, and the idea of you moving on without him cuts him to the core. How could you be okay living without him, when every moment without you feels like a lifetime of emptiness?

In his mind, he replays the memories of your time together, each one a painful reminder of what he's lost. He wonders if he could have done things differently or if he could have been the partner you needed him to be. But now, it feels like too little, too late, as he watches helplessly from the sidelines as you move on with your life.

The bitterness of jealousy twists in his gut, fueling his anger and resentment. He wants to lash out, scream, and shout and make you understand the depth of his pain. But beneath the anger lies a deeper sadness, a profound sense of loss that threatens to consume him whole.

As Lewis grapples with his conflicting emotions, he's left to confront the harsh reality of your absence and the painful realization that he may have lost you forever. But he refuses to give up on you.

As Lewis observes the subtle ways you've been avoiding him, a mix of frustration and longing wells up within him. It's become increasingly clear that you're actively steering clear of any situation where you might cross paths, and while part of him understands, another part can't help but feel hurt by your apparent avoidance.

He's noticed your absence at mutual friend gatherings, the empty space where you used to stand, and it feels like a painful reminder of the void left by your departure. Each missed opportunity to reconnect only serves to deepen his sense of loss, leaving him to wonder if you'll ever be willing to face him again.

But amidst the disappointment, there's a glimmer of hope – your unwavering commitment to attending his brother's birthday celebration. It's a small gesture, but one that speaks volumes to Lewis. Despite the distance between you, despite the pain of separation, you're still willing to show up for his family, to be there for them in their moments of celebration.

In that realization, Lewis finds a sense of solace, a reminder that maybe, just maybe, there's still hope for reconciliation. He knows that healing takes time and that wounds need time to mend, but seeing you make an effort to be there for his family gives him hope that maybe, someday, you'll find a way to bridge the gap between you and find your way back to each other.

"She's going to be here?"

Nicholas nods cautiously, "Yeah, but Lewis, you have to let her be, okay?"

"What are you talking about? She's my fiance?"

"But she's not." Nicholas interrupts.

"And she hasn't been for half a year."

The words dawn on Lewis, and they make his heartache in a festering way, yet he can't help but feel comfort in knowing that for the first time, he'd be able to see you again, face to face.

As you step into Nicholas' birthday party, a knot forms in the pit of your stomach, a tangible manifestation of the nervousness that courses through your veins. You know Lewis will be there, and the thought of facing him again fills you with a sense of apprehension and uncertainty.

Your heart races as you scan the crowded room, searching for any sign of him. Each familiar face you encounter sends a jolt of anxiety coursing through you, and you can't help but feel a pang of guilt for the way you've been avoiding him.

Determined to keep your distance, you slip through the crowd like a ghost, carefully avoiding any areas where you suspect Lewis might be lurking. You plaster on a smile and engage in polite conversation with the other partygoers, but your mind is elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of the man you're desperately trying to avoid.

As the night wears on, the tension in the air becomes palpable, a silent undercurrent that threatens to pull you under. You steal furtive glances around the room, half-hoping to catch sight of Lewis and half-dreading the inevitable confrontation that awaits.

But as the hours pass and the party begins to wind down, you realize with a sense of relief that you've managed to make it through most of the evening without crossing paths with him.

The knot in your stomach loosens ever so slightly, and you allow yourself to breathe a small sigh of relief.

That is, until you see him.

As Lewis scans the room, his gaze inevitably falls upon you, blending seamlessly into the crowd. There's a longing in his eyes as he watches you from afar, a silent ache that tugs at his heartstrings with each passing moment.

He can't help but notice the way you move with a grace that belies the nervousness he knows must be churning within you. Despite your attempts to blend in, there's an undeniable magnetism about you that draws his gaze like a moth to a flame.

Memories of your time together flood his mind, a montage of moments both joyous and bittersweet. He recalls the way your laughter filled the room, the warmth of your smile, and the way your eyes sparkled with mischief when you were up to no good.

But beneath the surface, there's a sense of sadness, a yearning for the connection that once bound them together. He longs to reach out to you, to bridge the gap that now separates you, but he knows that now is not the time nor the place.

With a heavy heart, Lewis watches from a distance, his eyes lingering on you like a silent prayer. He knows that healing takes time, that wounds need time to mend, but deep down, he can't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, there's still a chance for reconciliation, an opportunity to find your way back to each other once more.

As your eyes lock with Lewis's across the pulsating dance floor, a surge of panic propels you into action. Without a second thought, you pivot on your heel and dart through the crowd, your heart hammering in your chest like a wild drumbeat.

Every fiber of your being screams for escape as you push your way toward the exit, the urgency of your flight drowning out the thumping bass of the music. But even amidst the chaos, you can feel Lewis's gaze burning into your back, his presence a heavy weight that follows you like a shadow.

With each step, your pace quickens, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you try to put as much distance as possible between yourself and the man you once loved. But no matter how fast you run, you can't outrun the memories that haunt you or the longing that lingers in your heart.

And then, just as you reach the sanctuary of the exit, you feel a hand grasp your arm, pulling you to a sudden stop. You turn to face Lewis, his eyes searching yours with a desperate intensity that leaves you reeling.

In that moment, you're paralyzed, caught between the urge to flee and the desire to confront the emotions that swirl between you. But before you can make a decision, Lewis's voice breaks through the chaos, a whisper of longing that sends a shiver down your spine.

With a sense of inevitability, you realize that there's no escaping the truth – no matter how hard you try to run, the bond between you and Lewis refuses to be broken. And as he reaches out to you, his desperation palpable, you know that you can't ignore the pull of fate any longer.

"Baby, please, let me talk to you."

As you finally turn to face Lewis, the sight of him stops you dead in your tracks. His eyes, usually so full of life and vitality, now seem dulled with a sorrow that cuts you to the core. They glisten with unshed tears, twinkling in the dim light of the club, and his fluttery eyelashes betray the vulnerability that lies beneath his stoic exterior.

At that moment, he looks like a kicked puppy, abandoned and alone, and you can't help but feel a pang of guilt for the pain you've caused him. His expression is a silent plea for understanding, for forgiveness, and it tugs at your heartstrings with a force you can't ignore.

Despite your best efforts to steel yourself against his gaze, you find yourself crumbling under the weight of his sorrow. The walls you've built around your heart begin to crumble, and all you can see is the hurt reflected in his eyes.

With a heavy sigh, you reach out to him, your fingers trembling as they brush against his cheek. In that moment, you realize that you can't bear to see him hurting like this, that despite the pain of the past, your love for him still lingers like a ghost, refusing to be silenced.

You turn, allowing his grip on your arm to remain as you continue out the door. You are in a dark alley, he's still looking at you with that same miserable pout lodged onto his face.

"You left me," He whispers.

As Lewis's voice trembles with emotion, his words pierce through the barrier you've erected around your heart. The sincerity in his apology is palpable, each syllable weighted with the regret of past mistakes. You can't help but feel a tug at your own heartstrings, a flicker of empathy for the pain he's endured.

"And I don't blame you, I was shit to you. I've been struggling more than I care to admit," Lewis confesses, his voice heavy with the weight of his words.

"The season has been relentless, and the constant setbacks with my car... it's been a mental battle I haven't been winning."

He pauses, searching for the right words to convey the depth of his anguish. "I know I haven't been myself lately, and I've taken that out on you. I'm sorry, truly. I never meant to hurt you, but I let my frustrations get the best of me."

There's a vulnerability in his voice as he lays bare his struggles, a raw honesty that cuts through the silence between you. "I see now how my actions have affected you, and it breaks my heart. You didn't deserve to bear the brunt of my pain, and I'm sorry for not being there for you when you needed me."

His gaze meets yours, pleading for understanding and forgiveness. "I'm trying to work through this, to find my way back to myself so that I can be better for you. I want to be better for you."

His admission hits you like a wave, washing away the bitterness and resentment that had taken root within you. It's as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, the burden of hurt and anger finally dissipating in the face of his vulnerability.

With a heavy sigh, you meet his gaze, seeing the turmoil reflected in his eyes. In that moment, you realize that despite the pain of the past, the love you once shared still lingers between you, a flicker of hope in the darkness of your regrets.

And as Lewis continues to pour out his heart, expressing his remorse for the loneliness you felt in the relationship, you find yourself nodding in understanding. You know all too well the toll that suffering in silence can take, and you can't fault him for wanting to shield you from his own pain.

In the quiet of the moment, you find solace in the shared acknowledgment of your struggles, a silent understanding that binds you together even as you stand on opposite sides of the divide. And as you reach out to him, offering a tentative embrace, he physically brightens as if you have taken the sun and held it right above him.

"I need you to know," Lewis begins, his voice laced with a raw vulnerability, "how miserable I've been without you. Your absence... it's been like a gaping hole in my chest, a constant reminder of what I've lost."

His words tremble with the weight of his emotions as he continues, "I've missed you more than I ever thought possible. Every moment without you felt like an eternity, and the emptiness of your absence was impossible to ignore."

"I know I've made mistakes, pushed you away when I should have pulled you closer," he admits, his voice thick with regret. "But please understand, it was never because I stopped loving you. If anything, it was because I loved you too much and didn't know how to cope with the pain of making you feel as miserable as I was, but in the end, that is exactly what I ended up doing."

Lewis's gaze meets yours, pleading for understanding and forgiveness. "I can't change the past, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. Please, give me a chance to show you how much you mean to me, how lost I am without you by my side."

As Lewis pours his heart out, his words piercing through the walls you've built around your own heart, you feel a lump form in your throat. A single tear escapes, tracing a path down your cheek as you struggle to contain the flood of emotions welling up inside you.

His vulnerability is a mirror to your own, and in that moment, you realize just how much you've missed him, how much you've longed to hear those words spoken from his lips. With a trembling breath, you close the distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest as you lean in to kiss him.

The touch of his lips against yours is like coming home, a familiar warmth that envelops you in a cocoon of love and longing. In that fleeting moment, everything else fades away – the pain of the past, the uncertainty of the future – leaving only the two of you reunited at last in a tender embrace.

As you melt into each other, the weight of the world falls away, replaced by the sweet promise of a new beginning. And as you pull back, breathless and teary-eyed, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you'll face them together, hand in hand, forever bound by the unbreakable bond of love.

"Lewis," you begin, your voice soft but firm, "I need you to promise me something. I need you to promise that you'll open up to me next time, that you won't keep your struggles bottled up inside."

Tears still glisten in your eyes as you speak, but there's a determination in your voice that wasn't there before.

"That's how it works in relationships, you know? We're supposed to be there for each other through the good times and the bad. And I want to be there for you, always."

You reach out, taking his hand in yours, offering a reassuring squeeze.

"I love you, Lewis, and I care about how you feel. I don't want you to ever feel like you have to internalize your emotions like you have to suffer alone. I want to walk through them with you, hand in hand."

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you continue, "If we're going to make this work if we're going to have a future together, that has to change. We have to be able to lean on each other, share our burdens, and lighten each other's load. Can you promise me that, Lewis? Can you promise to let me in?"

"I promise I'll try," Lewis responds, his voice tinged with sincerity and determination. "I know I haven't been the best at opening up, at letting you in, but I want to change that. I want to be more vulnerable with you, to share my struggles and my fears."

He reaches out, gently wiping away the tears that still linger on your cheeks.

"I love you more than anything, and I don't want to lose you again. If that means being more open and honest about how I'm feeling, then I'll do whatever it takes."

A small smile plays at the corners of his lips as he continues, "You've always been there for me, even when I didn't deserve it. And I want to be there for you, too, to be the partner you deserve."

With a final squeeze of your hand, he leans in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. "Together, we can get through anything. I believe that with all my heart."

As Lewis holds your hand, his thumb tracing absentminded patterns over your skin, he can't help but notice the absence of the familiar weight of your ring. His heart clenches painfully in his chest at the realization, a sharp pang of regret shooting through him like a bolt of lightning.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammers, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't help but notice... your finger, it's bare." The words catch in his throat, choked with the weight of his own guilt and remorse.

His grip tightens ever so slightly as if trying to hold onto you, to keep you from slipping away. "It pains me to see you without it," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I'm the reason you took it off, and I hate myself for it."

Tears gather in his eyes as he meets your gaze, his own filled with a mix of sorrow and longing. "I miss the way it sparkled on your finger, a constant reminder of the love we shared. I miss us, and I'm so sorry for everything."

With a gentle squeeze of Lewis's hand, you offer him a reassuring smile, your eyes soft with affection. "I missed you too, Lewis," you admit, your voice tinged with sincerity. "And I still love you, all the same."

You can feel the tension in his grip ease slightly at your words, a flicker of hope lighting up his eyes. "As for the ring," you continue, a playful twinkle dancing in your gaze, "I suppose you'll have to put it back on my finger when we get home, won't you? Can't have everyone thinking I'm single, now can we?"

The corners of Lewis's lips quirk up into a hesitant smile at your jest, the heaviness in his heart beginning to lift. "I'd like that," he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "I'd like that very much." And in that moment, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you'll face them together, hand in hand, forever bound by the unbreakable bond of love.

Lewis's eyes widen in disbelief as your words sink in, a glimmer of hope flickering to life in their depths. "You'll come home?" he repeats, his voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and longing.

A rush of emotions floods through him – relief, gratitude, and a profound sense of joy that threatens to overwhelm him.

A smile spreads across his face, lighting up his features with an infectious warmth. "Roscoe will be so thrilled to have you back, and so will I," he adds, his voice filled with genuine happiness. "I've missed you more than words can say, and I can't wait to have you home again where you belong. Losing you has been hard on all of us," Lewis confesses, his voice tinged with sorrow. "But seeing how miserable Roscoe has been without you at home... it breaks my heart."

He pauses, his gaze drifting to the floor as he struggles to find the right words to express the depth of his concern. "He's been moping around, refusing to eat, just waiting by the door for you to come back. It's like he knows you're not coming back, and it's killing me to see him like this."

You can hear the pain in his voice, the weight of his worry pressing down on him like a heavy burden. "I know he's just a dog, but he's family to us," he continues, his voice cracking with emotion. "And I hate that he's suffering because of me, because of my mistakes. I'm happy that you're coming back."

"I've missed you more than words can say, and I can't wait to have you home again where you belong."

With a sense of renewed hope and determination, Lewis pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you close as if afraid you might vanish into thin air. In that moment, surrounded by his love and warmth, you know that coming home was the right choice and that together, you can weather any storm that comes your way.

As Lewis's arms envelop you in a warm embrace, a sense of clarity washes over you like a cleansing wave. In his embrace, surrounded by his love and warmth, you realize that the change you needed wasn't leaving him but instead learning to communicate with him all over again.

The weight of your decision to leave lifts from your shoulders, replaced by a newfound sense of lightness and freedom. You see now that leaving him only made you miserable, that true happiness lies in facing your challenges together, hand in hand.

With Lewis by your side, you feel stronger, more resilient, and ready to tackle whatever obstacles life throws your way. You understand that change isn't always easy, but it's necessary for growth and renewal.

In this moment, surrounded by his love and support, you know that change is indeed good and that together, you can navigate the twists and turns of life's journey with grace and resilience. And as you bask in the warmth of his embrace, you feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the opportunity to start anew, to rebuild your relationship from the ground up, stronger and more resilient than ever before.

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