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bunny-lily · 6 months

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Satoru, who...

Did you ask for more fluff? I did, ehe~

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

CW: pure fluff, just fluff, no angst, only happiness | proposal, marriage, pregnancy, husband!Gojo, dad!Gojo, soft!Gojo, categorically fucking whipped Satoru, domesticity, kinda slice-of-life, mildly suggestive at the end

The starstruck boy, Gojo Satoru, who is utterly obsessed with you in every way possible.

AN: while I’m in the middle of writing an absurdly long fic, I wanted to post some shorter stuff to 1) keep my hands loose and brain active/busy, and 2) post something while I’m working on the fic to come. I won’t post much about it rn because I want to actually finish it first and not make any promises, so enjoy a lil fluff in the meantime <3 just something short and sweet

WC: 3k

Satoru, who is smitten with you from the very moment he first lays eyes on you. Sure, he's had infatuations before, but they were short-lived and typically lasted no longer than a week. A quick fascination, then poof. You, on the other hand – you are different.

And it is plain to see for pretty much everyone. He is normally cocky and outgoing, even during the little fads he’s had, he never let down his façade of bravado. You, though? You melt all his walls until he’s a goopy puddle of a blushing, giggling school girl.

He is whipped, almost to an annoying point. He rambles off Suguru's and Shoko's ears enough times for them to know when he’s about to start singing your praises and avoid him, or distract him somehow (which is a monumental task when his ditzy head is full only of thoughts of you).

Even so, they are conflictingly bewildered and happy for their friend. For him to have found someone that he is interested in for longer than a week – let alone several months, now – is a riveting change of pace. He seems so genuinely delighted any time you two interact, bubbly, dreamy sighs leaving him as hearts dance in his eyes.

He has fallen for you bad.

Satoru, who’s a stuttering disaster when he tries to ask you out on a date, and damn near collapses in relief when you’re able to decipher what the hell he’s going on about and agree to go to the new café that opened up near campus with him.

One date turns into two, then three, then a dozen more that become routine for you. You meet up after classes let out, then head to the café side by side. Or, if one is running late, you have each other’s orders memorized. You even go the extra mile and order him a sweet he hasn’t tried yet to surprise him with when he bursts into the establishment, panting like he ran a marathon. He might as well have, he booked it for the café as soon as he was free, dying to see you.

Satoru, who is somehow in even more shambles when he gets the nerve to ask you to go steady with him, despite the two of you being borderline boyfriend and girlfriend by now. He’s jittery, sweaty, downright vibrating with tense energy when he brings you to the sakura tree near the back of school that you two had laid claim on. Oh, and when you say yes? He’s certain he’s died and gone to heaven. Nothing can explain how an angel like you decided to grace him with your existence as is, let alone love him – even while you called him an idiot and said you thought you two were already dating.

Satoru, who was already protective over you when you first met, dials it to eleven after you agree to being his girlfriend. Gojo Satoru, the strongest man alive, could inspire fear and respect simply by being in the room with his confident and brash nature, completely relaxed and faithful in his skill. But if, gods forbid, something happens to you? Gone is that cocksure attitude. Gone are the coy smirks and passive-aggressive taunting meant to rile others up. Gone is everything but his one track mind that focuses solely on two tasks: protecting you, and destroying whatever harmed you.

Satoru, who spoons you to his chest and watches ASMR, random videos, or movies on your phone with you 'til you both fall asleep. It became routine shortly after you began officially dating. You'll climb into bed first and decide what you want to watch while he finishes his nightly regimen, then he'll slip under the blankets and pull your back flush against his front, prop his chin atop your head, slide a thigh between your legs, and off to cozy dreamland you two go as whatever you choose acts as white noise.

It brings him an immense amount of comfort, and though he doesn't need as much sleep as normal folks, he'll refuse to leave bed until you're awake (with the exception of any needs he might have to take care of that will only see him away for a couple minutes at most before he’s cradling you in his protective hold again).

Satoru, who salts and peppers your face with endless, ticklish kisses to wake you up, saving the best kiss for when your sleepy, pretty little eyes open: right on your lips. He always wakes up before you do, and spends hours watching your blissful, precious face as you snooze, content and relaxed like a cat with full trust in its human. The comparison always makes him smile, because he, truthfully, envisions you both as being cats all the time. Lazy ones that cuddle in the sun, your smaller form using his ridiculously fluffy and larger one as a pillow-slash-blanket. His tail twined with yours, your ears twitching as he grooms you with kitten licks, ah, the dream.

Satoru, who wants to slap a ring on your finger the very moment he can. You two spend so many days and weeks raving about your imaginary wedding that he so desperately wants to be real, setting up plans, picking out what you would want for decor, scrolling through forum boards for ideas on a wedding dress for you. He is practically more excited at the prospect of getting married than you are, eager to help in every step of the process and more. 'Let me handle all the hard stuff, baby,' he nearly begs.

He won’t tell you the cost of anything, and insists you go all out. Get the dress you want, don't you dare look at the price tag. Choose the perfect venue, he doesn't care if it's in Japan or fucking Dubai, he'll handle paying for everyone's travel and hotel needs on top of the whole wedding. Only the absolute best for you, nothing less, everything more.

Satoru, who is a train wreck of nervous excitement, anxious anticipation, and giddy trepidation when the day comes for him to propose. He takes you to the perfect location – up a short and easy hiking trail that leads to a cliffside with the most magnificent view of the ocean and setting sun. You think it's just a sweet date trip, until you see the path of tea candles guiding you to a romantically set up picnic blanket, a basket resting atop it, waiting to be opened.

When you turn around to express your shock and confusion, you find Satoru on one knee, looking up at you as if you are the most gorgeous and divine creature to ever exist. He's confident and boisterous, as always, as he plays out his little speech about how much he adores you and wants to keep you by his side, forever and ever, but he's a shaking trash fire inside. A shivering little dog that's relieved he didn't stutter or screw up the speech he practiced a hundred times over and then some.

Satoru, who's thanking every god to ever possibly reside above (and even below) when you throw your arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder as a flood of yeses pours out of you, slurred as you ramble through your tears and tell him you love him, how happy you are, and a plethora of other things that make him genuinely the most elated person to ever live.

Satoru, who slides the brilliant engagement ring he had custom made for you onto your finger; smooth, with an inset blue diamond that shares the same shade as his eyes, nestled in with a dozen tinier crystals in vine-like spirals flowing outward from the center. Swarovski, of course. He made sure that it was all flush with the platinum to ensure it wouldn't snag on anything.

He was practically breathing down the jeweler's neck during the entire process, needing to guarantee it’s positively perfect for you. And, when he sees the glimmering jewelry cozy on your finger, the evidence of your bond and the next step in your journey to unite as one, he knows he made all the right choices.

Satoru, who only uses the finest material for your matching wedding bands, and has the insides of both engraved with each other's names. Yours in his, his in yours. He has the same jeweler as before (poor guy) design them to have two stripes of platinum within the gold of your rings, delicate and stunning for himself and his wife.

Satoru, who's jubilant and so incredibly ecstatic that you're now his wife that he can't help but tell everyone he knows, everyday, multiple times a day, even those that were at the wedding. He just can't get over it. You're his wife, the girl he's been crushing on since highschool, the girl he swore to make his, and to devote himself to. It feels like an incredible dream, and he worriedly pinches himself from time to time to make sure it's real.

He did it. He married you, and now you carry his name in yours, in your wedding band, everywhere he could put it to subtly (not really) show you off as the unquestionably precious treasure you are, his wife, and how overjoyed he is that he managed to catch you and keep you.

Satoru, who forgets how to function when you hold up a pair of white and pink sticks on his birthday, from different brands, both showing positive symbols. You. You're pregnant. With his baby. He swears his brain short-circuits because one minute, he's staring at you like you'd grown a second head, and the next, he has you wrapped up in his arms as he showers your forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw, lips, neck, ears, anywhere he can reach, with kisses.

He's a babbling, sniffly mess as he practically crushes you to his chest and coos and preens and weeps with elation. He reveres you like a deity and he’s your loyal and pathetic servant who was blessed beyond measure that you decided to give him the gift of life. He's going to be a father, and it's all because of you.

Satoru, who completely spoils the living hell out of you during your pregnancy (as if he hadn't already been), bending backwards for you for everything. Weird cravings? He's on it. Swollen ankles and nausea? He's rushing to the store for medicine, then rubbing your feet to ease the ache. Insatiable horniness? He's your slave for you to use for your pleasure. Hormones swinging wildly back and forth? He's there with a box of tissues and his firm chest for you to beat on when you feel like you're going crazy. It's his fault you're pregnant, after all. You're doing the hard work of not just carrying his child, but of nurturing it, growing it, letting it take from you to develop strong and healthy. Of course he's going to take care of you.

Satoru, who refuses to let you do any work. You're on indefinite parental leave. From the moment you show him those positive tests, he sits your pretty ass down on the couch and tells you firmly that your only job now is to help your baby develop. He'll take care of everything else, don't even think about lifting a finger.

Satoru, who's there at every appointment with you, clutching your hand tightly as you talk to your doctor about everything you need to know. And when you have your first ultrasound, and see your fetus together for the very first time, he's crying right alongside you.

Satoru, who spent meticulous hours packing a duffel bag with everything you'll both need for when it comes time for you to go into labor. Spare changes of clothes, plenty of water, blankets to keep you warm, a couple pillows, anything and everything. He refuses to go in unprepared. As soon as it's all packed and ready to go by the 8 month mark of your pregnancy, it's in the backseat of the car. The baby car seat is in the trunk of the sleek and top-of-the-line SUV he purchased specifically for your soon-to-be family. He doesn't care that it's taking up space, or that it’s too early, he refuses to go in unprepared.

Satoru, who immediately ditches work the very instant your water breaks. Who gives a fuck if he's in the middle of something important, nothing takes precedence over you and the incoming birth of your infant. He's breaking several driving laws to get you to the hospital, but neither of you care. Not when you're panting in the passenger seat, white-knuckling the grab handle with a palm pressed to your stomach, grunting and crying out in pain any time you have a contraction. It's a miracle he doesn't get pulled over, and he's incredibly thankful (and proud of himself) for thinking of calling the hospital ahead of time so that they're ready for you.

Satoru, whose entire world becomes a blur from the second you reach the hospital, to the second you're crushing his hand in your grip, screaming as you fight to bring his baby into the world. He's letting you yell at him and blame him for the pain you're in, easily accepting and agreeing because it is his fault.

But while your shaking sobs and shrieks of agony wound his heart beyond any possible measure, he also can't help his elation at knowing it's time, all the waiting has been worth it, every minute spent catering to your every need, want, and desire. He'll do it indefinitely, wait on you hand and foot for the rest of his life, treat you like a queen, because you deserve it and so much more.

Satoru, who's shocked by how well he's holding up when the nurse puts the wrapped up, pudgy little newborn in his arms, gazing down at the tiny being. His tiny being, your tiny being, the fragile and priceless life you both created. Looking down at his kin, his reason for being, he knows he'd do anything and everything to protect you and your child.

Satoru, who sees you, a disheveled and tired disaster, with your hair all tangled, frizzy, and astray, strands stuck to your sweaty skin, your body slack in relief as the hardest part is finally over, watching your husband hold your baby, and he thinks you're more beautiful now than you've ever been.

You look like you’ve been dragged through hell; your legs are sticky with residue blood, amniotic fluid, placenta, and whatever else that needs to be cleaned off (though your legs are covered with a few layers of blankets to keep you toasty warm while you recover from labor), your face is a little pale and sallow, you're barely clinging to consciousness, and he's marveling at how he's never seen anything or anyone as utterly blest and sacred as you.

A goddess amongst men, the only one the strongest man in the world would ever willingly bow down to without you even needing to ask.

Satoru, who helps place your baby on your chest, the nurse having opened the blanket for skin-to-skin contact as you feed it, and finally lets himself release all his pent up emotions of raw, unfiltered joy. Every cell, every fiber, every atom in him is dancing in overwhelming happiness. He'd do it all over, again and again, as many times as you'd let him, if it means he gets to see you this blissful and tranquil. The glow of maternity suits you like no other, even in all your unkempt and chaotic glory.

Satoru, who can't believe he's a dad. He goes above and beyond, insisting he takes care of the baby at night so you can sleep – he doesn't need as much rest as others do, after all. He murmurs to his newborn about how much he cherishes and adores you, how much you mean to him, how you're the best wife and mommy a man could ever ask for and more. He reads the kiddo bedtime stories to help it sleep, feeds it, changes it, whatever it is that is needed, he's there and doing it.

On top of that, he continues to be your doting, devoted, caring husband. He makes sure you're taking your vitamins, takes you to all your postpartum appointments, aids you through your subsequent depression, all of it. He's sworn himself to you for life, not just in this timeline and universe, but in any and every single one of them.

He made and said his vows with purpose and conviction. He meant every word, and upholds them like his life depends on it. Because, in his mind, it does.

Satoru, who is patient with you, and firmly commands you to not push yourself to do things you can't do while you're still in recovery. He doesn't care if he has to wait months or even years for you to be ready to lay with him again, he'll wait it out. He might not be a patient man, but for you, he'd wait until all the stars die.

Oh, but you, darling little minx that you are, do your best to take care of him, too. Even when he urges you to rest, or not worry about it, or anything other arguments he might have against it, you tend to him in whatever way you can. Touching, sucking, rough and heavy petting, whatever it takes. You refuse to leave him alone to suffer through months and months of dryness with no relief save for his hand and the toy you surprised him with to help take the edge off.

Satoru, who can't be more grateful to you. You're more than his wildest dreams, the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect person as a whole in the entirety of the universe. He really can't help boasting about being the Chosen One, because he really is, if the cosmos decided to gift him with you.

Satoru, who swears to take care of you for the rest of your lives, and does well on his promise.

Satoru, who fights for the sake of you and your kin alone. He refuses to leave you in any way, shape, or form. He refuses to let the world be a danger to any of you. He refuses to have anything happen to his family. Nothing will tear you apart, not now, not ever.

Satoru, who loves you more than the sun, the moon, and all the stars combined.

—-—-•(-•ʚɞ•-)•—-—-

Banner by cafekitsune ♥ thank you for reading

#gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #fluff #chimera-writes #dad!gojo #husband!gojo

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leclerity · 15 days

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the middle of the night

Charles Leclerc x Girlfriend!Reader count: 1.2k words summary: Charles shows up to your apartment in the middle of the night, drunk, and wanting one thing and one thing only. a/n: i bet you couldn't say no to drunk charles wanting to have sex... (18+)

You hear something thud in your room. You pick up the broom from the hallway and creep to your bedroom, slowly peeking through the door—

Only to find your boyfriend halfway through your window, dragging his left leg over the windowsill.

The light comes on with a flick. “Is there a reason you’re crawling through my window?”

Charles shields his eyes, finally flopping to the floor, then fumbles about with the window until it’s closed. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“What was your plan, exactly?”

“Well.” He stands with his hands on his waist, beaming at you. “I’d take my clothes off, get into bed with you, and be there when you wake up.”

“And you thought that wouldn’t disturb me.”

“It wouldn’t. Because you love me.”

His grin widens and you drop your pretence – yes, your boyfriend is a little dumb when he’s drunk, but at least he’s the kind to try to get into your bed when drunk and not someone else’s.

“Charles, it’s”—you check your phone—“the middle of the night.”

He nods. “Bedtime, then.”

Before you respond, he starts taking off his clothes, starting with the white polo he wore to the night out with the boys. He unbuttons it quickly, then looks at you—pauses—grins—and starts unbuttoning it slowly, keeping eye contact.

“You’re adorable,” you say, shaking your head. “Not happening, though.”

Charles pouts. “Why?”

“You’re drunk.”

“And in love,” he says, singing the “love”. He closes the distance between you and pulls you in by your waste, tickling your neck with kisses. “You’re the only thing I want tonight, baby.”

“Charles.”

“Mhm?”

The kisses continue, so you put your hands on his cheek, making him face you. You give him a quick kiss on the lips. “I’ll get you some water.”

He kisses you back. “I need you, not water.”

“Charles—”

“I can tell,” he says. “I know you want me, too.”

And you do—god, you do—because he keeps kissing you, brushing that sweet spot on your neck as his kisses threaten to trail lower, and because his hands are dropping lower, too, gripping you just right, and—

“Charles.”

He takes a step back immediately, noting the lack of playfulness in your voice. “Okay.”

You kiss him on the cheek. “Get in bed. I’ll join you in a minute.”

He nods and you can tell he’s disappointed, but he’d never go against your wishes. There’s a line between being playful, debating, maybe even considering his proposal – and the no that means a flat-out no, no considerations included. He never pushes when you don’t want him to.

And, unfortunately, that just makes him want you more.

You fill up two glasses of water and take some aspirin from the medicine cabinet, some chocolates, too. Either of you could get peckish later, or in the morning, and you’d rather account for that in advance.

In your bedroom, as you approach it—gently, just in case—Charles is sprawled on top of the covers, with only boxers to hide his modesty. You chuckle and he startles, then beckons you to come over.

“I just want to cuddle,” he says. “I promise.”

You give him the glass and he downs it, then puts it on the nightstand on your side of the bed. The light’s still on but it’s a warm, gentle yellow, and you think about leaving it on for just a little longer.

“Y/N. Mon amour. Come here.”

You kiss him as you join him on top of the covers. His arms close around you as if that’s all they were made to do and you feel tension drift from your body. He smells like his most recent aftershave, and you inhale it as if it were a drug – even sweaty after a night out, he still smells like a god.

Charles kisses the top of your head.

“Charles,” you say.

“Mhm?”

“You tired?”

“Not very.” He kisses you again, snuggles you closer. “Why?”

“I’m think I’m too awake to fall back asleep.”

His palm is flat on your side and his thumb moves side to side, and you hear him sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I can’t believe you thought that getting in through the window wouldn’t wake me.”

He kisses you again. “You’re a heavy sleeper, bebe.”

“Not today. Not when you’re out,” you remind him.

“But I’m here now, and you’re still not sleepy.”

You hesitate for a moment—you can still hear the life outside your window, and the world is still wide awake, it seems—but then you push yourself up, kissing the corner of Charles’s jaw.

“I can think of a way you could make up for it,” you whisper.

His hands are on your waist in an instant and he’s kissing you, no, devouring you, and you feel taste the alcohol on his lips and start to feel a little drunk, yourself, as his kisses outline your jaw and stick to your neck, a little too long, long enough that you’ll have little bruises tomorrow, and—

He hits the spot and you moan his name.

“Mon amour.” His hand’s on your mouth and face above yours, pupils dilated and eyes wild. “We don’t want to be too loud, do we?”

“No,” you mutter through his hand.

“You want to go to sleep after this, right?”

“Yes.”

He kisses the corner of your jaw like you did to him earlier and he’s nibbling at your earlobe. “Then relax and enjoy.”

His hands cup the bottom of your shorts, getting a handful off your ass. He squeezes it, just enough to draw out a moan, and his lips are on yours again, reminding you to keep quiet, you don’t want the neighbours hearing, now, do you? You don’t want them to know how hard I fuck you when I haven’t seen you all day, when I’ve spent the last five hours thinking about coming here and taking you, all of you, mon amour.

You’re not sure if he’s saying this or if you’re imagining it, but you’re not even thinking about being quiet anymore because his head’s between your thighs now, telling you how good you taste, and his fingers are pressing down on your lower belly and the neighbours will know how hard he fucks you, they already do.

After a while, he stops asking you to hold back, but he smacks your ass until it’s red and you’re writhing in pleasure because you’re been a bad girl, and he’s filling you up so well that you wonder how in hell you thought you’d be able to go without this tonight.

By the time he’s done, you’re exhausted and so is he, and you fall asleep quicker than you thought it possible, with his hand still tangled in your hair.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1 rpf #f1 x reader #f1 rpf #charles leclerc smut #m.fic

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sanarsi · 2 months

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We Have It All

pre/post-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: You and Joel were separated by the outbreak. Warnings: angst but with happy ending, mention of killing, use of weapon Wordcount: 3k An: I've always wondered what it would be like to experience the start of the outbreak as someone close to Joel, which is why we are here. Music I worked with: We Have It All - Pim Stones

Masterlist

"My flight got canceled," you sighed, throwing your clothes carelessly into your suitcase. You were furious. All your plans were gone to hell. "I'm sorry, baby."

"You don't have to apologize to me," Joel's amused voice echoed in your ear. You winced, still feeling guilty.

"I know, but I wanted us to spend your birthday together," you said calmly and sat down heavily on the bed. "Sarah and I were supposed to make a cake and humiliate you by singing happy birthday in front of the house." Joel snorted with laughter. You smiled to yourself, anxiously picking at your cuticles.

"Yeah, that sounds awful." You fell silent, staring blankly at the floor. "Babe, it's not the end of the world. We can celebrate my birthday when you get there," he assured you, knowing full well that you felt bad about how the whole situation had turned out. "I won't get any older in a few days," he added with amusement. You snorted quietly.

"I don't know. I recently found one gray hair."

"What?" he asked suddenly concerned.

"I'm joking," you laughed at his reaction. You heard him breathe heavily. "I booked tickets for tomorrow's flight."

"Then we'll pick you up from the airport. Sarah can't wait." In the background you could hear a cheerful screams of a girl. "She misses you," he added, making you feel warm in your heart. Joel always knew how to cheer you up. "I miss you too," he said more quietly, with different emotions. With real longing. You felt something inside you clench.

"Fuck you, Joel. You can't say things like that to me when I'm on the verge of a breakdown," you pointed out, smiling under your breath. His laughter echoed in your ear again.

“Yeah, sorry babe.” You could hear some chatter in the background. After a moment you heard Joel sigh heavily. “We have to go. Sarah’s gonna be late,” he said in his typical tired tone. You nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” You could hear some murmurs in the background. “I love you.”

“Love you, old man.” His snort brought a wider smile to your face.

“Lovely,” he commented, probably rolling his eyes before he hung up.

You pushed your phone away with a quiet sigh. The screen displayed a wallpaper with a picture of the three of you on vacation a few months ago. You smiled at the memories that flooded your head. You looked around the hotel room and then fell back onto the mattress. You cursed the whole world for today, all your plans went to hell.

Today, of the whole fucking year.

Meanwhile, Joel was sitting in the car, looking at a small ring in a navy blue suede box. A few diamonds sparkled in the sunlight. Tommy glanced at his brother with a smirk.

"So when are you going to propose?" he asked, and Sarah's head immediately appeared between their seats.

"I wanted to do it today," he sighed, closing the box and putting it in his pocket. "But as you can see, it'll have to wait."

He glanced at Tommy and his daughter, then rolled his eyes at their stupid smiles.

"What?" he asked when they didn't say anything for a long time.

"Nothing. I'm just happy for you," Tommy replied with a shrug. Joel didn't comment on his words.

"Will she have the same last name as us?" Sarah asked.

"I hope so," Joel agreed, looking out the window.

"Cool. I'll be able to call her my mom," she said happily, and fell back into her seat.

And Joel couldn't help but smile a little at the vision she planted in his head.

In the middle of the night, you were woken up by loud noises. You mumbled in dissatisfaction, turning towards the window. You winced when you saw any lights. After a moment, you heard an explosion. You woke up immediately, throwing the blanket aside and went to the window.

A few blocks away, you could see that one of the buildings was on fire. You watched it calmly until another explosion engulfed another skyscraper, this time closer to your hotel. The silence was drowned out by car alarms and people's screams.

Your first thought was a terrorist attack.

You felt a surge of stress, observing everything from a distance. The loud sound of several fighter jets cut through the sky, catching your attention. And then the first shot came.

You watched in horror as more buildings in the city center burst into flames. You swallowed hard, tightening your fingers on the curtain. And then the loud sound of the phone ringing echoed through the room.

You almost jumped on the spot, turning towards the bed. The screen lit up the dark room. You quickly answered the call, seeing Joel's photo.

"Hello?" you spoke, swallowing the lump in your throat. Someone's curses and murmurs could be heard on the other end.

"Hello? Baby, are you okay?" Joel's breathless voice rang out in your ear. You immediately looked towards the window and felt your pulse quicken.

"Y-yes, I'm okay. Joel, what's going on?" you asked, looking out at the city. Another explosion. You flinched, looking towards the building that was in flames. Just a few dozen meters away. A quiet curse sounded on the phone. "Joel?" you spoke uncertainly.

"We don't know. There's a lot of soldiers everywhere. They've blocked the highways."

With each word he spoke, you felt more and more panic.

Another thought was war.

"They say it's some kind of virus. People are going crazy and attacking each other like animals."

You looked down at the street where people were running. Screams mixed with the howl of sirens. Your breath trembled as you moved away from the window.

“Joel, I’m scared,” were the first words you said after realizing how bad things were. If it was happening here and in Texas, then it was everywhere.

And you were alone on the other side of the country.

“Listen to me,” he began calmly. You began to breathe deeply to control your growing fear. “Grab the most necessary things. Get in the car and drive out of town on the side roads. You need to get out of the city center, do you understand?” he explained slowly so you could understand every word. You mumbled something in confirmation. “Baby, I need you to take a few deep breaths and do as I said. You need to get out of town. As soon as possible.”

"Okay," you said, feeling your stomach tighten painfully. You looked around the room in panic and then another explosion occurred. That's when you shook yourself. You quickly moved towards your suitcase and started putting on your clothes.

"Stay off the country roads," he continued explaining as you put on your sneakers. You went to your locker and threw everything into your bag in one move.

"Okay," you nodded, grabbing your car keys. You left the hotel room and looked around the hallway until you saw a sign for an emergency exit. You quickly headed in that direction.

"Tommy and I are going for Sarah."

"What?" you stopped, frowning. "She's not with you?" Silence fell on the other end. You looked at your phone to check the time. It was the middle of the night and Sarah was home alone. How on earth?

"I had to get Tommy out of the arrest," he finally spoke. You closed your eyes, sighing heavily.

Of course it was always about Tommy.

You shook your head and headed down the stairs. You had to get to the underground parking lot. You ran out the door, looking around. It was quiet here. You quickly got into your car and looked around like it was your first time driving. After a few tries and a few panicked curses, you finally got the key in the ignition and screeched to the exit.

You looked around the street before you pulled out onto the road and turned on the navigation. You looked around nervously in every possible direction as you started driving through different housing estates.

"I should be leaving the city in a few minutes," you said, driving more carefully than usual. The further you got from the center, the quieter it was. Fewer and fewer police sirens and people.

"Okay, baby, listen," he started slowly. "Head toward Kansas."

"Okay," you nodded, swallowing hard.

"We'll meet exactly halfway, yeah?"

"Okay," you nodded again, feeling your voice start to shake.

"I will find you," he assured you. He wanted to sound confident. He wanted you to feel safe because of him. But his voice trembled as well.

"Okay," you said again, feeling tears welling up in your eyes.

"I will find you, I promise," he repeated. You nodded, feeling tears start to flow down your cheeks. You pressed your lips together to hold back a sob. "I lo-"

Silence.

You looked at your phone in panic.

"Joel?" you said, but no one answered you.

You felt panic shake your body. You began to breathe quickly, trying to fight off more and more tears.

It wasn't until you passed the sign informing you to leave the city that you felt adrenaline take over your body. You rubbed your wet cheeks and took a few deep breaths.

"You will be fine," you said confidently and pressed the gas pedal, leaving the burning city behind you.

One year later.

You looked at the map again and cursed under your breath, looking around.

Everywhere fucking forests and fields.

With a sigh, you put the map in your backpack and slowly set off through the tall grass. There was silence all around. The wind gently moved the treetops and the birds sang merrily. Nothing had changed here. Nature continued to live as if nothing had changed at all.

But everything had changed.

The world had stopped and started to fall apart.

At least for those who had managed to survive.

You were one of those people.

You had been fighting to survive for a year. Starving, fighting and killing. Who would have expected that? If someone had told you a year ago what you would become, you would have thought they were mentally ill.

And yet, you were where you were. Which was currently in the middle of fucking nowhere.

After a few hours, you were sitting by a small stream, filling a bottle with cold water. As usual, you took the opportunity to wash your body of dirt. If you could even call it that. At least you didn't feel everything sticking to your skin so you considered it as a success.

You sat leaning against a tree, looking at the map, waiting for the fire to fry the fish you had caught sufficiently. You traced the path you had to take to cross the Missouri-Kansas border with your finger.

You still had a long way to go. But you had already come a lot further. You were getting closer to the goal that had kept you alive for a year.

You knew Joel was alive. You could feel it in your bones.

Joel was a tough motherfucker.

He certainly wouldn't let himself be killed and he was on his way to Kansas.

If he wasn't already waiting for you there.

That's what you hoped.

The next few days passed on a lonely journey. Your legs hurt terribly, but you had gotten used to it. You had gotten used to many things. But it probably took you the longest to get used to the smell.

Another sunset was approaching as you slowly walked along the dirt road kicking a small stone. The sky turned orange as you left the road and headed towards the forest. You had learned that it was safest to sleep in trees. Even though you hadn't seen a living soul in weeks, you were always prepared. No one ever looked up when looking for potential threats. So when you found a suitable thick tree, you began preparing ropes.

You were concentrating on tying knots when suddenly the sound of a branch breaking echoed through the forest. You looked around but didn't see anything that caught your attention.

Despite everything, you slowly and quietly lifted your backpack from the ground. You put the ropes away looking around for threats.

And then you heard another crack of branches.

Your senses sharpened and adrenaline hit you like a bolt of lightning. You slung your backpack over your shoulders and pulled your gun from your belt.

You slowly and carefully took steps not making a sound and hid under a group of trees. And you waited. For some time, all you heard was your calm breathing and the last birdsongs. You began to wonder if you had accidentally run into a deer or some other animal, but then you heard the next branches breaking under someone's weight. You immediately recognized the male footsteps.

Wary and heavy.

You slowly uncocked the gun and looked out through the gap between the trunks. You saw movement. A few dozen meters away from you. And unfortunately for you, he was walking in your direction.

You cursed in your mind at your luck and took a few deep breaths.

Another rustle of dry leaves getting closer to you. You tightened your grip on the gun and listened.

The snapping of branches. You glanced one last time through the gap in the trees to determine how far he was. He was definitely too close.

One last deep breath before you emerged from your hiding place.

“Stop and drop your weapon,” you said sharply, aiming it straight at the man in front of you. But you weren’t the only one prepared. You both stood, aiming your weapons at each other. You both had each other perfectly in your sights. And you were both alone.

"I just want to get to Kansas," he said in a hoarse, loud voice.

"Then you got your sides mixed up," you replied, keeping him carefully in your sights. To your detriment, the setting sun and the fog didn't help.

"What?" he was surprised, slightly taken aback.

"Kansas is the other way," you explained, frowning when you noticed he lowered his gun slightly. "No tricks. Throw the gun in my direction and take a few steps back," you ordered, carefully watching his every move. For a moment, there was complete silence. His hands finally fell loosely along his body.

"Fuck. Baby?" he said in a completely different tone. You frowned, lowering the gun when you heard a familiar voice. A gentle wind stirred the fog, giving you a better view of the man a dozen meters in front of you.

"Joel," you whispered in shock, the gun falling from your hand. Your heart stopped for a moment only to start beating like crazy when you saw his look of relief.

"Fuck," he cursed with a trembling voice before he confidently took a step towards you. And you started running.

You threw yourself into his arms, hugging his neck tightly. His arms wrapped around you so tightly you could barely catch your breath. You sobbed with happiness feeling your body overcome with relief. How his arms finally brought you the desired safety. Joel groaned, burying his face in your neck.

Tears of happiness welled up in your eyes as you finally held him in your arms. Alive. Healthy.

You tangled your fingers in his hair pulling him even closer starting to laugh with happiness. His fingers dug painfully into your skin as he pressed you closer to his chest. The amount of relief he felt holding you in his arms was indescribable. Like a huge weight from his shoulders fell apart in a second finally allowing him to breathe.

"I knew I'd find you" he whispered almost moaning with happiness.

You could barely see through your tears as he pulled you away, taking your face in his hands. He looked at you closely. Same eyes, same smile, and a few more scars. Other than that, nothing had changed.

He sighed in relief, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours. You wrapped your arms around his wrists, letting out a shaky breath that disappeared a moment later into his mouth as he pressed them tightly against yours.

He immediately deepened the kiss, kissing you with everything he had in him. Longing, relief, pain and love. It wasn't a gentle kiss, but the best you've ever had in your life.

His lips tasted like home.

And that kiss was a promise that you'd never be alone again.

He finally pulled away and pulled you to his chest. He tangled his fingers in your hair and rested his cheek on your head. You snuggled into his chest, closing your eyes.

"I was so fucking scared," he whispered, hugging you tighter and planting a strong kiss on the top of your head. "I was so fucking scared you'd die," he stroked your back and a few tears ran down his cheeks, soaking into your hair. You sobbed, burying your face in his chest.

His fingers stroked your hair soothingly.

"Shhh," he whispered, placing kisses on your head.

You were in his arms.

Safe and sound.

After a year of separation, you were finally safe.

"Everything will be fine now," he assured you, believing in his own words like never before. "I will take care of you."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #sanarsi fic

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okkotsuus · 2 months

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"YOU'RE AS BEAUTIFUL AS THE DAY I LOST YOU" (katsuki b.) !

features: katsuki bakugo

contents: fantasy au. angst. hurt/comfort/more hurt. mutual pining. barabrian!katsuki. fem!reader. childhood friends to lovers to strangers to lovers again. kidnapping. grief. crying. implied panic attack. major character death. no beta we die like men. 3.9k

notes: i've been yearning desperately to make bakugo say stoick's famous line from httyd2 (my second favorite movie)... if there's interest i'm considering continuing this into the canon verse with it being these two 'reincarnated'.

tagging: @saexy (for enabling and encouraging me in killing off characters) & @meristryker (for enabling me in the gc like a real one)

never in all his life did the great katsuki bakugo think that he would ever love someone enough that he could die. watching the loving smiles of his parents, the gentle caress of his father's hand to soothe his mother's unbridled anger: it made his stomach churn.

yet, at the tender age of seven, while on a trip to a nearby village to discuss the war shifting on the horizon, he finds himself absolutely smitten by their chieftain's daughter. wide e/c eyes peeking out from behind her mother's leg, hands clutching onto the hem of the long skirt.

katsuki finds himself enamoured in that instance, seeing sweet you, looking at the boy with such curious eyes. he stomps over to you: temper even fiery in his youth. his hand grabs onto yours as he hauls you out from behind the safety of your mother.

under the dim candlelight of the meeting room, flickering flames cast dancing rays across your skin. his chubby little face is scrunched into a scowl, tugging you out of the room and into the courtyard with a tenderness that betrayed his expression.

"i'm katsuki and you better not forget it!" his pitchy voice calls, still dragging you behind him. he looks over his shoulder, soft red eyes narrowed in what was an attempt to be intimidating.

but when he sees the relaxing of your eyelids, falling slightly in contentment, with a warm smile that rivals any feeling of victory: the mask of indifference slips in a blink of an eye. red dusts over the slops of his face, baby-fat painted the same carnelian as his eyes. his small hand grips tighter onto yours, as if he never would let you go.

your chubby little face stretches as your smile widens into a toothy grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. "got it, katsuki, i'm y/n!" he swears your voice is just like the lullaby his mother would hum while rocking him to sleep, bringing a rush of warmth through his chest.

that day, katsuki bakugou falls terribly in love with y/n l/n.

the two of you are deemed inseparable, hands always connecting like opposing poles of a magnet. pinkies intertwined stronger than any woven cloth. it's as pure and innocent as it can be.

if one were to see y/n, then it was irrevocably certain that katsuki was a few steps away. it sends rumors spiralling through the lands that there will be a union between the bakugo barbaricum and l/n dynasty. you're only eight when there's an attempt made for your hand.

the thought of two families as powerful as you and katsuki's joining was a fearful thing to many. it spelled doom for many weaker civilizations, those who had dug their own graves with their actions.

your family, blessed be you to have been born to loving parents in a world such as this, easily rejects the many proposals. the l/n dynasty is in a state of power where they are not forced to fend for their village: allowing you this freedom.

running through the streets of his stronghold, chasing each other for the sake of some game that was the farthest thing from either of your minds. katsuki feels whole when you are at his side. the world doesn't seem so ugly, he doesn't feel so angry, everything sings the hymns of the heavens.

he can't pull his ruby eyes off of your form by the age of fifteen. the katsuki you had known, baby-faced with a slight stutter, has began to fill out into a man. his shoulders broaden and begin to carry thick cords of muscle. the chubbiness of his cheeks begins to give rise to sharper angles. his whiny voice is pushed aside by a more gravelly tone. he shoots up like a sprout, hunching over slightly in faces that used to fit him so easily.

but he isn't the only one who is growing into his frame. your shoulders soften at the corners, collarbones visible with every slight movement. your baby fat begins to settle and collect on your hips, rounding them. those toothy grins of yours become framed by pretty lips, always looking soft as a pillow. clothes that used to drape over your like a sheet now feel tighter in certain places, stretching over curves that popped up overnight.

the two of you don't know what to do with yourselves, stolen looks when the other isn't looking. you still hook pinkies, but the touch sends flares of heat running up the back of your neck. it's like you were just meeting each other for the first time all over again.

katsuki feels like a damn sap with the way his heart thunders under his skin: threatening to burst out. he's too taken to notice the heat that was rising to your face whenever he was around, the way your hands nervously would grip onto the swaying fabric of your skirt. too blind to see that you were just as infatuated with him as he was with you.

hurried words, lingering touches, sneaking glances, the two of you had every hint of love right in front of your faces. yet, there's a hesitance that lingers in the back of young minds: afraid that falling in love would end up with no one catching them.

unsurprisingly, katsuki is the one who jumps first. it's a quiet night, the moon is high in the sky. his breath puffs out in front of him like smoke, winter beginning to show herself once more.

you looked too beautiful under the soft azure glow that the celestial sky casts upon you, he simply couldn't bear another moment without you known how much his very soul ached for you.

on the eve of his sixteenth birthday he whispers the words like a prayer, voice softened and gentle for once in his life. "y/n... you plague my every waking thought, i cannot let my heart beat any longer without it being yours."

e/c eyes widen as your head snaps to him, lips parting in shock. katsuki beats you to it, rough palms (once baby-soft) cupping your cheek with a tenderness he was unaware he possessed.

the stars illuminate the sunkissed slopes of his cheekbones, showing the fine lashes that fan out over his eyes. katsuki was ethereal, in every sense of the word, it catches your breath in a hitch. your mind stumbles through everything you could say right now, desperately trying to find the perfect response.

but when the pads of his thumbs drag over the apples of your cheeks, leaving a buzz in the wake of his touch, all rational thought leaves as you allow words to flow like a stream. "i have loved you longer than i have known you, katsuki." your voice is hushed, only filling the small space between the two of you: like a secret that only he and you would ever know.

it sends a trill up your spine when his eyes visibly soften, his face had been growing more and more sharp by the day but only when he was with you did the curve of his cheeks soften. he turns back into a boy around you, as you turn back into a girl when held so gently between his hands.

katsuki surges forwards, nose clumsily knocking against yours, teeth colliding with your own. he's inexperienced, never having kissed a girl, much less even though of kissing anyone but you. you both are a mess, giggling softly through messy pecks smearing over each other's faces. it feels like you're both those giddy kids once more, chasing the other through the cobbled streets of your village. he makes your heart sing.

it was even harder to be apart from him now, hands fully clasped together as you walk through the streets of either of your hometowns. yet, no one is surprised. neither of your parents nor his even bat an eye when you announce the courtship at a family dinner.

love is as natural as breathing for you and katsuki. inherently you have always known exactly what the other needs. he knows just how much you like the wildflowers that grow en-route between your homes. you know just how much he likes when you rise on your tiptoes and press a kiss against the corner of his lips.

it's young and dumb, a rush of big emotions and smiles that stretch your cheeks so far they ache. once you both are eighteen, katsuki turns the courtship into a betrothal. an elegant gold ring, with a garnet slotted right in the center, it sits pretty on your ring finger. his band is thicker, small e/c gemstones scattered along the surface. when in battle he loops it through a chain around his neck: pressing a kiss to the ring before charging forwards.

the world has known y/n l/n and katsuki bakugo have been in love for nearly twelve years, official for three, and betrothed for one. the bakugo barbaricum and the l/n dynasty have began making their plans to unify upon the wedding. it sparks a wave of unease in the badlands.

all it takes is an emissary sent from the dark forest for your world to crumble into shambles. a demon who seems to be the land's scourge reincarnated, hand that turn all to ash, pillages your beloved village. he comes in tow with a mimic and a fire mage. destruction rains as you are brought to the center as their singular demand is you.

your eyes lock with the demon's red eyes, a color that had made you feel so safe until now. the hair on the nape of your neck stands pin-straight as his hand extended towards you: palm up.

a flurry of emotions rush through you like a burst dam, memories of katsuki at the forefront. you want to be selfish, to damn him and his band of criminals to hell, to fight back despite the gravity of the situation. but he is bringing terror upon the people you swore to protect with your life.

so, you step forwards, soft hand sliding into his own. never had a rough palm felt like daggers against your skin, never had you so violently despised the way carmine shines in the light of blue flames.

to save your people, your family, the home you have known your entire life: you go. swept away in black mist. the last thing you see of that place is the bakugo horde rushing towards the gates, your eyes lock with katsuki's before the void claims you.

katsuki lets out a guttural scream as her charges head first into the miasma, falling onto the ground as the last wisp flows just through his fingers. his fist slams against the ground, hands gasping at the dirt you had just been on. he allows himself to cry in front of someone other than you, a wail echoing through the ruins of your village.

that day, you disappear off the face of the realm. no matter how many search parties are sent into the dark forests in the badlands, they all return empty-handed (if they return at all). katsuki keep his ring around his neck, so it beats against his bare chest with every movement: like a reminder of how it felt when his heart actually beat .

scars wind around his arms, around his biceps, over his forearms, across his shoulders. his face is hardened, permanent frown on the lips you used to kiss so tenderly. he's angrier than ever, fuse short as his attention span.

he is a shell of the man he had been, going through the motions of survival but never truly being alive.

this persists for a grueling two years. for seven-hundred and thirty days. for seventeen-thousand five-hundred twenty hours. he is separated from the only person that has ever felt like home, the woman he has loved longer than he knew how to read.

he masks it behind his ego, boisterous laugh to hide the ringing in is ears that hadn't been able to stop. he's more violent the field, less forgiving when in training with kirishima. the explosions that thunder from his palms produce a blackened smoke that lingers and settles in his lungs like a fog.

yearning hits him late at night when he lays alone in bed, a bed that you had once shared with him. silent tears pour, running down the sides of katsuki's face as he stares blankly up at the ceiling. his breath feels short as his chest heaves to get air in. the man's mind is clouded with the look on your face as those bastards took you. he can still remember every single little twitch of your expression when you finally saw him. he remembers the way your breath hitched. he remembers the tears that began to pool at the corners of your eyes.

but, most of all, he remembers not seeing you: for what feels like the first time in his life.

katsuki cannot recall when he finally fell asleep, or if he ever even truly did. his dreams are plagued with you anyways, so the line between memory and dream is thin as a tightrope.

he has a dream that he makes it in time to save you and wakes up alone. that one sticks with him for months, hanging over him like a shadow. if he was only a minute sooner, a stride faster, reacted quicker. maybe you would be in his arms right now instead of gods know where.

relief comes in a rumor that circles in a tavern that a woman with h/c hair and e/c eyes was spotted wondering through the dark forest. katsuki doesn't hesitate, he makes no effort to send out a scout party. he rides at dawn, horse hooves beating against the grass in a frenzied gallop as he makes his way into the badlands.

none of the rouges or thieves hope to stand a chance with him, the smart ones don't even try. he vanquishes the less fortunate with a single swing of his cutlass. the man doesn't stop to rest, only to water his horse and allow it to graze while he catches a brief nap.

his horse comes to a stop right outside the dark forests, whinnying in rejection to enter. katsuki doesn't blame the poor thing, this was the kind of place people went with no intention to come back from. he dismounts, not tying his horse off: it would return with a whistle.

the forest is eerie, yawning opening that is reminiscent of a gaping mouth. but he didn't fear. because at this point, he'd rather not come back if it meant he wasn't coming back with you.

footfalls crunching against leaves and sticks echo through the dim lit treeline. the canopy is so thick that it completely obscures the bright sunlight katsuki has just been under: the perfect place for criminals to hide. the trees creak and groan, as if the land itself was breathing and living.

only when he hears the snap of a twig does he stop, his head snaps around, a flash of h/c darting just out of the corner of his visions. the man's heart stops as he stumbles to pursue, not minding the whipping of low handing branches against his face. not when he could see you darting through the underbrush.

he finally sees you in the full when you run into a path dead-ended by brambles. it's really you. y/n, his y/n.

but you look over your shoulder with such a forlorn look it makes his heart ache in his chest. you don't believe that it's really him. "toga, this isn't funny, it's cruel to keep making me see him." your voice is rougher than he remembered, as if your throat had been worn. it makes his fists clench at his sides.

the mimic had been wearing his face, just to torment you?

just the thought of it sends a rage burning deep in his chest. he has no way of knowing what you have been through. katsuki couldn't protect you: like he always feared he would fail to do.

his steps toward you are hesitant, ruby red eyes softening the second he sees your face. his heart is pounding out of his ribs, it makes him wonder if you can hear it.

a rough hand reaches up to roughly tug the chain that held his engagement band around his neck, the links snapping and clattering to the ground. he doesn't even look at it. with a gentleness, he holds out the ring to you.

your eyes dart back between the metal and him, hands tentatively reaching for it. the thundering race of your heartbeat is all you can hear. your hands, once soft, now rough as his bush against his own as you roll the ring between your fingers.

katsuki's heart breaks when he feels the callouses on your fingertips. he lowers slowly to his knees in front of you, tears fighting their way to prick at the corners of his eyes. he looks up at you like you are the light in the world, a goddess before him. in a way, you are, because he had prayed to every deity to hold you again, even if it was only once more.

"you're as beautiful as the day i lost you." his words come out in a rasp. thick emotion coursing through his chest; nearly choking him.

he watched your eyes widen, tears pooling as you too crash onto the ground. your arms wrap tight around his neck, face pressed side-by-side with his own. strong arms encircle your waist in an instant, pressing you closer with an urgency.

"katsuki... oh gods, katsuki..." you don't even know what to say, just repeating his name like a desperate prayer. your cheeks are wet and your chest aches but you don't care, because he's finally here.

lips clash desperately, just as messy as the kiss the two of you first shared five years ago. it's a mess of teeth and tongue as your fingers tangle into ash-blonde hair, his hands finding the back of your head and your hip. he sucks the breath out of you, as if wanting to absorb you into his being.

and you'd let him if he asked.

carmine eyes search for e/c, his hands cupping your cheeks as he pulls back to study your face. it's like you never left. your eyes are tired, there's some grime on your cheeks, a soft scar above your eyebrow that you've had since you were thirteen.

the softest smile spreads on his face, forehead pressing against yours as his lashes flutter shut. katsuki lets out a deep sigh, one he had been holding for nearly two years now.

warmth blooms in your chest as everything finally settles back into place like puzzle pieces. your hearts beat in sync, you draw breath when he exhales, everything is right in the world once more.

but your heart skips a beat as your eyes open to see that cursed white hair with horns peeking out from below it. tomura shigaraki. a wicked smirk on his lips as he's leaned back against a tree, simply watching.

your hands grip tighter onto the back of the shawl draping over katsuki's shoulders, breathing turning shaky and ragged.

no. no. no. they couldn't take this from you. not again. not after how hard you fought to escape the league just at the fleeting chance of being able to see the man you love. this had to be some cruel joke, right? a trick of the light, maybe...

even you aren't naive enough to believe that, your eyes close as you lean against katsuki, head burying into the crook of his neck. your fiddle with his hands to slip the ring back onto it's rightful place on his third finger. a part of you had already resigned to being ripped away again.

after two years with the demon, you learned firsthand what shigaraki was capable of. and you were not going to allow katsuki to find it out as well.

your legs shook as you stood, a weak smile given at your lover's confused look. "i'll always love you, 'suki, you know that." his eyes widen as his head nods, brows furrowing.

"then let me keep you safe."

carnelian irises widen in realization as his head turns to look back, growl ripping from his chest at the sight of the scourge of the realm's protege. his hands immediately reach for the hilt of his sword, explosions popping in his palms.

but you're already beginning to approach. katsuki seizes you in one arm, hauling you away like the day you first met. he runs through the forest with you: knowing that shigaraki would not allow the both of you to leave.

he bounds over winding tree roots, holding you steady and tight against his chest. the impending sense of doom begins to crawl up the back of his neck, but he needs you to be safe.

with you in his arm, he stumbles out of the forest, shrill whistle leaving his lips as the sound of hooves grows closer. with ease he sets you up on the saddle, but he does not join. you realize immediately what is about to happen. "katsuki-"

"no. it's my turn to keep you safe, y/n. i've always loved you, and i always will. in every life i will find you, and in every life, i will protect you." his words bring tears to your eyes as you desperately stake your head, sobs bubbling past your lips.

shigaraki creeps out of the forest and he delivers a harsh smack to the horse's haunches, sending it galloping away. within a second later a hand is reaching through katsuki's chest, mocking laugh against his ear.

"how heroic. i'll make sure you die slow, barbarian."

never in all his life did the great katsuki bakugo think that he would ever love someone enough that he could die.

that was until he lay on the edge of the forest floor, lifeblood leaking from the gaping hole in the center of the chest. but he wasn't anguished: because he died for you, the only person who he would ever love.

okkotsuus 24

493 notes · View notes

rieamena · 3 months

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wipe my mind, i'd still be stuck on you

kenji sato & baseball critic!reader

contains: fem!reader, established relationship (5 and a half-ish years), going public, petnames, reader and ami are close friends & spend time with her and chiho (ami's daughter), singing, kenji being whipped for you and vice versa, championship baseball game, children mention!!!, emi mention!!! (she's at kaiju island!!), proposal, engagement, fluff, suggestive, angst if you squint hard, lowercase intended!!! !!!: the song in the second part is stuck on you by grentperez wc: 3.4k

people always wondered how you managed to get the most in-depth and provocative interviews with ken sato. without fail, each and every one of your published articles presented the baseball star in a new light. "mr. sato, i'm sure your fans are wondering just how you were able to overcome your slump. some are even saying that you had special help from someone significant to you. so tell us, is there someone significant to you right now?" your eyes captured ken's as you spoke into your recording device. both of you sat cross legged on your shared bed, free hands intertwined, sharing a dopey smile. you moved the device closer to him, squeezing his hand when he just stared at you lovingly instead of answering the question. "i'd say that significant isn't the right word to describe her. actually, there aren't any words to describe just how much she means to me. she's my everything. my sun, moon, sky, and stars." ken pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, his words soothing your heart. "and i'm sure she feels the exact same way about you." drawing circles into his hand, you looked at the gold ring attached to a matching chain around kenji's neck. "eyeing my necklace, are you?" you scoffed and rolled your eyes, "well, what does it symbolize?" kenji fiddled with the ring, twirling it between his fingers. "it's a promise ring. if i'm being fully honest, i cried when she gave it to me. i never thought i could be so close and intimate with someone. i didn't fit in back in LA and i'm still struggling to fit in here, but none of that mattered to her. for once, someone saw me for me. no matter what happens, i'll always stand by her side and i'll always love her." before you knew it, ken's lips were hovering over yours, his hand delicate on your face, as you subconsciously leaned into his touch. "i'll always love you too." it was a kiss full of passion and love. it managed to convey kenji's innermost thoughts and feelings to which you shared yours as well. pulling away from your boyfriend's lips and settling into the crook of his neck, small, blinking digital numbers stole your attention. a quiet giggle escaped your lips as you stopped the recording, "guess i'll be keeping this for myself." ken pressed a kiss to your forehead, whispering softly, "or you could show the world how much ken sato loves his pretty girl."

you sighed, "we've talked about this, love. i don't want to go public because—""you're scared about the public's opinion." kenji cut you off, recalling the numerous times he's had this conversation with you. "ken, its not just that! i could lose my credibility as a baseball journalist!" you professed, separating from the warmth of his body, "people would think that i got interviews from pure favoritism. and some would think that i… offered you favors. …going public might ruin my career and i don't know how i'd be able to…," your words died down as your head returned to kenji's chest, your lips taking in a shaky breath, "i love journalism and i love baseball and doing something that bridges the gap between those two is one of the best things in my life right now." laying your hand flat against his chest, rubbing softly, you continued, "please ken, believe me when i say that i really do want to take your last name, i want to walk down the aisle to you, i want to do it all and i want to do it with just you, but right now," you looked up at kenji, whose eyes expressed deep apologies, "we're both doing so well. i don't want a single thing to knock us off our highs." a couple moments of silence passed before ken responded. "i understand… sorry for upsetting you." you shook your head, "don't apologize. you wanted to know the whole truth. nothing wrong about that…" rubbing the side of your arm, kenji repositioned both of your bodies to be laying down. "let's take a little rest," he whispered, bringing your body closer to his. you hummed in response, snuggling even closer to your lover, wanting to feel his warmth mix with yours. "mmm, i'd like that…" your voice drifted away, body entering a state of slumber in kenji's arms.

"honey?" ken's voice called, "i brought the stuff you wanted!" "i'm in the kitchen!", calling back, hands occupied with coating and frying some pork loin. your nimble hands dropped the meat into the pan of hot oil, watching it sizzle and crisp. "hi baby." ken dropped the bags of groceries on the kitchen island, wanting to wrap his hands around your waist instead. "tonkatsu?" kenji perched his chin atop your head, peering down at the frying pork. "yeah, we haven't had it in a while, and i know how much you love it." ken smiled, one that you could feel. "you know me so well." you smiled back, flipping the pork cutlets to ensure they cooked evenly. "how was your day?" "a bit busy, but it's better now," ken said, his hands moving to gently massage your shoulders. "can i help with anything?" "actually, could you start on the salad? the veggies are all washed and ready to go." kenji moved to the counter, grabbing a knife and chopping board. the two of you worked in comfortable silence, the sound of sizzling oil and the rhythmic chopping of vegetables filling the kitchen. "feels like we're missing something…", you put in the last pork chop, "mina, play some music please." a soft drum beat escaped from the mini speaker kept in the kitchen for times like this. almost instantaneously, kenji looked at you, tossing a wooden spoon from the utensil vase, picking up one for himself as well. "you could wipe my mind, i'd still be—", he sang into the spoon before pointing at you. like clockwork, you finished, "stuck on you." "i climbed the highs, nothin' i—", you pointed back at him, the man in question already belting the rest of the lyric, "wouldn't do~" your bodies got closer, "i'll be holdin' up to every word, every promise that you ever heard." kenji takes your hand in his and spins you around, hugging you close. "i'm makin' up for all the days that passed us by." it was a part of the song but he whispered it instead, giving your lips a quick peck after. bringing your hands up to his face, your thumbs continuously caressed ken's cheeks, a soft smile on your features. a small whine escaped ken when you suddenly stopped your ministrations, your eyes blowing wide. his followed suit, realizing what the problem was. both of you looked at the pan full of hot oil, a deep brown pork chop forgotten at the expense of the impromptu concert. "oh shit, it's burning!"

you walked through the front doors, slipping off your shoes and setting down your bags. entering the elevator, you shot a quick text to ami, letting her know that you got home safely. walking through the curve, you approached kenji, his body sprawled out on the ridiculously large couch staring at his phone intently. sitting up as soon as he felt your presence, ken quickly threw his phone out of reach for the both of you, waving you over. "eventful day?" you nodded, glancing at his phone before looking back at him. "have something to tell me?", you questioned, causing your boyfriend to smile, patting his lap. shuffling over, you laid your head on kenji's thighs, reveling in the plush firmness of them, "nothing my pretty little journalist needs to worry her head about." his hands poked and pinched your cheeks teasingly before being swatted away by yours. "what did you do today with ami and chiho?" ken's voice was light, unsure if concealing his plans caused you to be annoyed. "we went to the mall to get chiho some new clothes—," you took one of his hands in yours, playing with his fingers as you recalled your day, "—i got you something too. it's on our dresser." kenji's hand playing with your hair, occasionally massaging your head relaxed you as you continued speaking, "then we went to a cafe and had some desserts. i had a strawberry cream cake—that's in the fridge—ami had tiramisu and chiho had the cutest mini ice cream. wait." you pulled out your phone, muttering that you had to remember to send these pictures to ami. finding a photo you took of the table adorned with desserts, you handed your phone to your boyfriend, telling him to swipe to see the rest whenever. "after that, ami had to pick something up from a nearby shop so chiho and i just chilled until she came back." ken swiped to numerous pictures you took with chiho, smiling softly, imagining that you were taking photos with your child instead of ami's. peeking over at your phone, you squealed, "isn't she sooo cute? ken, you don't understand!!! she's like emi! …but smaller. and she's so full of energy!" "baby fever?" "...maybe." putting your phone down, ken relaxed his arms on the top brim of the couch, body on full display. "i could give you a chiho of our own." he looked down at you, a smirk on his face, causing you to choke on air, "you—! you!" "[name] sato does have a nice ring to it, don't you think?" "kenji!" "i meant it, you know."

"[name]? i've been calling you for—" kenji opened the door to your study, stopping in his tracks. you were passed out on your laptop, blue light glasses falling off and your favorite pen — the one he gave to you as a 'just because' gift — threatening to slip from your fingers. letting out a quiet sigh, ken walked over to you, taking shallow breaths as he slowly packed up your things and set them at the side of your desk. when you stirred in your seat, he froze, not wanting to wake you up from your nap. gently pulling the laptop from your grasp, kenji looked at the screen. an article titled 'inside the mind of ken sato: an exclusive interview' was scheduled to post at eight the next morning. shutting it closed, ken moved over to your limp body. bending his knees, he laid your back against one of his forearms, his other hooked under your knees. walking over to the loveseat you kept, ken's eyes never left your sleeping figure. he laid you down softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek before draping a nearby blanket over you. getting his laptop and putting on those blue light glasses of yours, kenji settled himself on the floor, occasionally looking back at you as he scrolled through pinterest, saving various images to his 'us' and 'wedding plans' boards. when he felt a hand on his head, rubbing softly, ken switched to a new tab. turning around, he whispered, "you're awake." he didn't expect your eyes to still be closed, realizing that you've been playing with his hair habitually rather than purposefully. "thank you ken…" your voice had the post-nap drowsiness but managed to convey your gratitude. "don't sweat it, princess."

opening your eyes slowly, kenji's face was the first thing you saw, causing you to sigh in delight. "god, you're stunning." ken's lips curved into a small grin, his head tilting. "thank you...?" "no no, i meant it like—" you sobered up after being drunk off sleep, collecting your thoughts, "when you get to re-experience something life changing as if it was the first time. thats what it felt like, like i was seeing you for the first time all over again." ken turned away from you, covering his face with his hands, feeling it heat up. "hey, don't do that! i was still admiring you," a groan escaped kenji's lips as you pried his hands away, "damn, can't a girl call her boyfriend pretty nowadays?" you slid off the loveseat, placing yourself right next to ken. "i like to think i look better from the front angle." he smirked, moving the laptop from his lap to the sofa. "you look good at all angles," you repositioned yourself, your core pressing into kenji's as you straddled his hips. by routine, his hands gripped your waist, squeezing and massaging slightly. "but i'd be lying if i said front angle kenji wasn't one of my favorites." kenji kept a hand stationed at your waist, the other moving down to grope your ass. low and heavy moans broke from him as you rocked your hips back and forth, giving you both the friction you've been waiting for. "you gotta get on top of me more often, baby. 'can't believe i was missing out on this." his eyes scanned over your figure, drinking it in. slowing your motions, your hands found home on kenji's shoulders. "keep acting like that and i'm gonna have to start going dress shopping." ken laughed at your comment, the implication not fully registering yet. "wait, what?"

the roar of the crowd filled the air as the yomiuri giants claimed the championship title. the atmosphere was electric, a whirlwind of cheers and applause. kenji, bathed in the triumphant glow of victory, made his way through the sea of elated teammates and ecstatic fans. his eyes locked onto yours, and in an instant, he was in front of your premium best view stadium seat. without a word, he pulled you close and kissed you deeply, the world around you fading into oblivion. the force of your embrace caused you to topple over the railing, crashing into Kenji with a fervent hug. "ken! ken! oh my god, you did it! you did it! you were so cool!! you hit the ball like wapow—" you rambled, your excitement bubbling over as you mimicked his winning hit. "huh? where did he—?" your eyes darted left and right in the search for him, only to find him behind you, down on one knee. the prettiest ring you had ever seen rested in a small black velvet box, glinting under the stadium lights. kenji looked up at you, his usual confidence giving way to a nervous chuckle. "you found me…" he muttered, his voice tinged with vulnerability only you got to experience. kenji took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "i don't know how i lived before i met you," he confessed, the words heavy with emotion. the stadium seemed to hold its breath, the noise of the celebration fading into the background as the moment unfolded. your heart pounded in your chest as kenji's words hung in the air. the world seemed to stand still, every sound and sight melting away except for him, kneeling before you. "[name]," he continued, his voice trembling slightly, "from the moment i met you, my life changed in ways i never thought possible. you've been my rock, my partner, and my biggest supporter. every day with you has been a gift, and i can't imagine facing any challenge, celebrating any victory, or living any day without you by my side." he paused, taking a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "you have this… incredible… ability to make everything brighter," he looks away, choking on his words, tears welling and slipping from the corners of his eyes. "to turn ordinary moments into extraordinary memories. your laughter is my favorite sound, and your smile, my favorite sight. you've shown me what true love is, and for that, i am forever grateful." kenji's voice grew softer, more intimate, as he continued. "in the highs and lows, you've been there. you believed in me, even when i didn't believe in myself. you've given me courage, strength, and a love that I know will last far beyond a lifetime."

tears were already streaming down your face, each word leaving ken's lips caused your waterline to fill up and spill over. your body shook, as you took in the view of your boyfriend, wiping away his tears with your hand. "i want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you've made me. i want to be the reason you smile every day. what i'm trying to say is…, [name], can i have the honor of being your husband?" even if you had spoken any quieter, kenji still would've heard you, at that moment, the only thing he focused on was you. "yes, kenji. let's get married." he pushed back a sob, rising to his feet and taking your left hand in his, slipping the ring on your finger. "wait…", you spoke, voice hoarse from all the crying. hands trailing down ken's neck, you felt the dainty chain he always kept on him, pulling it out from underneath his uniform. the promise ring laid on his chest as you unlooped it from the chain and pushed it onto his ring finger, as he did with your ring. flashing your signature smile, albeit more tired, you exclaimed, "there…! now we match!" the sob kenji previously choked back resurfaced as he picked you up and spun you around, your laughter mixing with his. as he set you down gently, your foreheads rested against each other, the world around you forgotten. in that perfect, intimate moment, everything felt just right. "what a way to tell everyone, ken. you never cease to amaze me…" "i'll have you on your toes. no way the marriage is getting boring with me around." "please, it wouldn't be boring either way."

extras —

you dragged yourself into the living room, dropping your bag and collapsing onto the couch with a heavy sigh. "i'm so tired… that article took everything out of me. and he was being so unnecessarily difficult!" ken looked up from his book, concern etched on his face. "you should—oh, i don't know—quit your job." "ken," you replied, giving him a pointed look. "hey, i'm just saying. i have more than enough to support us both and then some. no need for you to overwork yourself like this." he set the book aside and moved closer, taking your hand in his. "how about this? once the season is over, we take a couple weeks off for vacation. we'll travel anywhere you wanna go!" you smiled, the idea of a vacation sounding like a dream. "and if japan needs saving?" ken fell silent, embarrassed that being ultraman completely slipped his mind. "oh right. can't forget about that." you both laughed, the tension from your long day starting to ease. ken's thumb rubbed soothing circles on the back of your hand. "but seriously," he continued, his tone softening. "i hate seeing you so stressed. you're amazing at what you do, but you deserve a break too. we'll figure it out together, okay?" you nodded, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "okay. a vacation sounds perfect. and maybe i will think about taking it easy for a while." ken leaned in and kissed your forehead. "that's my girl. now, let's plan this vacation of ours. we’ve got the whole world to explore."

"babe, can you look through my phone for something? i took a picture of something i wore the other day," you asked, tossing your phone to kenji. "alright." catching it with ease, he started scrolling through your photo app. "this the one?" he asked, showing you the picture. you nodded, finding the same clothing pieces in your closet. kenji continued to scroll through your photo app, and suddenly he stumbled upon an album named 'mine <3'. "oh, you love love me," he teased, turning the phone towards you and revealing the numerous pictures you had of him. you rolled your eyes, trying to play off the blush creeping up your cheeks. "don't flatter yourself," you scoffed, a playful smile tugging at your lips. kenji chuckled, encapsulating you in a side hug. "too late. i'm already flattered." he looked at you with those warm eyes that always made your heart skip a beat. you shook your head, laughing softly. "you're impossible." "and you love it." he said, his voice low and affectionate. you couldn't deny it, the brightest smile etched on your face as you pushed kenji away. "yeah, whatever."

whew... its been a wild four days but i'm actually so proud of myself. personally, i love how this came out and i really can't believe that i typed all of this like me??? what?!?! i hope you all enjoyed it as much as i did <33 i'll be doing requests + asks for this so if you wanna see something or know something, send me an ask! love yall <33 ps: formatting this post was literal hell. solely bc tumblr decided to stop allowing me to save in rich text.

taglist <3

@lovingyeet @yellowheartz @darlinggreenwitch @meikoo @moonjellyfishie

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svtswhorehouse · 3 months

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DATING SEUNGKWAN INCLUDES…. — sfw

• he’s definitely the type of person to call you pookie.

• he uses the term “gyat” whenever he sees your butt. not in a sexual way, someone pls take away tiktok from him.

• his go to nickname for you is DEFINITELY boo — he thinks he’s soooo creative for this.

• he is constantly thinking of you. whenever he's buying groceries he always asks if you need something, before he makes plans with someone else he makes sure you don't want to hang out, or he thinks carefully about what he says to you incase he hurts your feelings with his jokes.

• he treats you like his personal diary. seungkwan was used to writing in his journal every night before you two started dating. you are the one person he truly feels "seen" with.

• y'all once had a phase in your relationship in which he would wake you up at the crack of dawn to exercise with him.

• one day you decided to drag him to a pilates class. he complained the entire way there, but ended up loving it. now it's HIM that drags you to the class.

• he makes sure you take your vitamins ! he's definitely the type to prioritize your health more than you do.

• if y'all aren't together for the day and you tell him you haven't eaten, there's definitely gonna be a food delivery at your door within the next hour or so.

• he's the type to get SLIGHTLY jealous, but after some reassuring he would let it go quickly.

• i'm ngl, he's not against being the big spoon, but he probably prefers little spoon tbh.

• he makes sure you know all the iconic korean songs word for word from back in the day. if you can't sing every single girl’s generation song start to finish with him, you're gonna get side eyed.

• whenever you two are separated because of touring or work, y'all are definitely the type of couple to FaceTime 24/7 and have meals together. you two also fall asleep while on the call.

• he was SO SO nervous when meeting your parents for the first time he thought he was going to pass out.

• he is NOT a morning person. he gets so sassy, sometimes you have to give him that mom look.

• seungkwan constantly praises you and makes sure you never doubt yourself.

• before you two started dating, it was actually really easy to make him flustered. he blushed with everything you did and every word you said. the rest of seventeen ended up having to play matchmaker because he was too shy to make a move.

• karaoke dates are a MUST !!!!

• y’all are the type of couple to go to disney with matching shirts and mickey mouse ears.

• he would try and teach you badminton, but gets frustrated and ends up just having you be his cute lil cheerleader on the sidelines.

• y’all typically always meet at a cafe to have a coffee or grab a bite on your lunch breaks.

• he has made it a tradition to sing you a ballad on your birthday. you look forward to it every year.

• he forces you to do face masks with him or indulge in self care nights. you don’t care though cause who can say no to a bubble bath with him.

• he would definitely pass the orange peel theory.

• you have a folder in your camera roll specifically dedicated to photos of him that would make good memes.

• you’re really close to both of his sisters and tend to go out on cute girls nights with them. sometimes seungkwan tries to worm his way along to make sure y’all aren’t talking shit about him lol.

• y’all have promise rings !!!

• he actually has your proposal planned down to the t. i’m talking ring, place, and moment.

• he’s such an active person that loves to do a bunch of activities, but it’s nice because it gets you out of the house.

• seungkwan is a person who constantly has to be doing something otherwise he feels unproductive so having you around definitely brings him down to earth. you’re the only person able to get him to relax.

• he always has a bunch of snacks on him so if you ever get hungry, don’t worry. you know who to ask.

• at the end of the day when y’all are cuddled up in bed together, you two typically watch dramas to fall asleep. it’s kind of difficult though because kwannie gets so into it and sometimes yells at the t.v :/

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bluesidez · 5 months

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GymRat!Miguel Part 6

content warning: fluff!, mentions of alcohol, uses of Spanish (if wrong, PLEASE correct me), boy-mom tendencies coming from Conchata, judging coming once again from Conchata (she means well, I promise. it just takes her a while to get there), mentions/pics of food, some PDA, it gets a little suggestive so MINORS BEWARE, Tyler + Nancy + Kron are all white for those who don’t know, Miggy still looks like ATSV Mig though, this is probably the LAST time that sorority party is mentioned, some body insecurity, Kron is a moron + freak, some violence at the end

word count: 8.5k, kinda proofread (no comment 😒 just buckle up)

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GymRat!Miguel who hopes his package makes it to you in time for New Year's. He hates that he can't just come and see you. He wanted to be with you as the clock struck 12, he always wanted to have a New Year's kiss with someone, but it felt a little silly to drop everything a drive to you. January was soon, which meant that the new semester started soon. He wasn't one to count down the days until school started, but if it meant he could be physically near you again, he would mark off the days in bright red on every calendar in the house.

GymRat!Miguel who records himself counting down with his rambunctious family in his grandma's backyard. His baby cousins are jumping up and down, throwing Pop-Its on the ground just giggling away. His aunts and uncles are yelling loudly. His mom and dad are huddled up together, his dad kissing his mom's cheeks as she laughs. George is a little drunk so he's feeling a bit more brave than usual. Gabriel and Dana are sitting in a corner, lighting sparklers to pass out to his relatives.

GymRat!Miguel who sends the video to you as soon as he can. You were probably busy with your own family so he didn't expect you to reply right away. He watched the fireworks that his uncle set off. A little dangerous with the trees being so close, but amazing nonetheless. His mom and dad gave him a group hug, then started dancing and singing loudly to Selena. He didn't even look to his Gabriel who he knew was kissing Dana's face off. He really missed you.

GymRat!Miguel who confessed everything to his Abuela as soon as she opened her mouth to say "¿Qué pasa, mi nietecito?"

He sat at the end of the table next to her, sniffling away as he rambled about everything that had happened the past semester. The late nights, the early mornings, his roommate that didn't dry off in the shower sometimes, his failed party, his missed alarms, group projects, and most importantly you.

He told her how much he missed you and how silly he felt. She rubbed his hands and reminded him that love has no bounds. She jokes about all the times she stayed with his abuelo after the stupid things he's done.

Who proposes without a ring?

GymRat!Miguel who laughs at his Abuela's stories of her younger love life. They trade stories back and forth, his stories mostly of you because you're his first true girlfriend. His Abuela listens with glee, happy to see her Miguelito so joyful. She warns him not to be like his abuelo in terms of common sense, but to be like him when it comes to how much love he has to give.

GymRat!Miguel who is eager to show her a picture of you. She is the second family member to see you outside of Gabriel, as she is one of the family members that he is closest to.

She was the one he cried to when the truth of his parent's past life unfolded. She was the one he went to when his mom berated him for the smallest things. She was the one he went to when he felt that he was competing to be seen, but he didn't want Gabriel to notice his pain. She was his everything.

He opens his growing folder full of pictures of you and scrolls to one of you during one of your library dates. You're looking up at him with the cutest smile on your face. Your glasses are falling a little bit and there's a half eaten granola bar in your hand. You were studying for an art history exam and complaining about the influx of European artists over every other continent. He had told an art joke he found on the back of a laffy taffy.

"What did the art thief say to the museum curator?" he said, getting his camera ready.

"What?" you ask, highlighting a passage.

"Give me all your Monet," he said, a snicker following.

You turn to him quickly with a giggle, "That's so silly."

"It made you laugh, though," he said, snapping a picture.

You were really sweet that day. Looked sweet, smelled sweet, and even your kisses tasted like strawberries.

His Abuela took the phone in her hands, pulling her glasses down to look at you.

A smile grows on her face as she sighs, "¡Muy hermosa!"

Miguel's heart soars. He is glad that she sees what he sees.

Of course, she wants to see you. She compliments you profusely, praising Miguel for finding such a beautiful girl. Miguel promises to bring you by one day, happy to be the bridge that connects to women who bring him such joy.

GymRat!Miguel whose bubble bursts when his mom comes up from behind, asking what he and his Abuela are talking about. He quickly brings his phone back to his chest and looks up at his mom.

“Uh, we were just talking about school,” Miguel answers.

“What are you hiding, mijo?” Conchata asks, raising her eyebrows as she tilts her head. There was a warning tone in her voice, daring him to lie.

“You’re always fussing at him! It’s New Year's, Conchata, let him relax,” his Abuela sighed.

“Ma! He is hiding something,” she says, voice getting sharper. “He’s been strange ever since he got home. What is it? Háblame.”

Miguel just let the air go from his lungs.

“We were talking about my girlfriend. I was just showing Abuela some pictures,” Miguel said, tone quiet as ever.

“That’s it? Well, can I see them?”

Miguel hesitated, not knowing how his mom would react. She could be a bit of what people described as a “boy-mom.” Despite all of the years of her nitpicking and nagging him, she still had her moments where she thought others were too good for him.

Miguel hesitantly showed her the same picture. She quickly yanked the phone and looked intensely, pinching the screen in and out.

Then she started scrolling. It would have been fine, but there were still some of the scanned Christmas photos of you that he didn’t move to his locked folder yet.

“Hey!” he said, jumping up to grab his phone. He quickly uses his height to his advantage and gets it back in his hands while his mom tried her best to keep scrolling. He looks at the photo she stopped on, one more swipe and she would see what was only meant for him. “Seriously, Ma?”

“I just wanted to see,” she said, straightening her blouse. “She’s- nice.”

Her tone was nonchalant, sarcastic.

“Nice? That’s it?” Miguel ask with his mouth turned up.

“Sí. What does she study?”

“Art.”

“Hm,” she says. “I guess you’ll be the breadwinner. If it goes that far.”

“Ma, please don’t start this,” Miguel says, feeling a headache coming on. “I already told you that this was a new relationship. One that has lasted this long for me. And there are plenty of jobs you can get with an art major!”

Conchata made a face as to say ‘really?’ with her arms folded.

Miguel looked to his Abuela with an exasperated look in his eyes.

“They are hard to get, but the world cannot move without art or love,” his Abuela says, taking Miguel’s hand in both of hers.

“Love?!” Conchata just about shouts.

Miguel just groans.

GymRat!Miguel who stomps over and yanks up Gabriel by his shirt, disconnecting him from Dana, and dragging him inside.

“Gabri. A dinner party? Really?!” Miguel huffs out, irritation high in his voice.

“Where’s ‘Hi. Hello! How are you?’ No ‘Happy New Year’s Eve, Gabriel. My darling baby brother who I love!’ Just using your sheer strength against me. Removing me from the safe arms of my girlfriend. Just rude,” Gabriel turns his nose up and folds his arms.

“You running your mouth is all the answer I need,” Miguel says as he flicks Gabriel on the head. He yelps out a cartoonish ‘yeowch!’ “Why did mom just tell me about a dinner set up to meet my girlfriend?”

“Um! Well, you see, things happen when you’re enjoying a lovely ski resort!”

Miguel just geared his hand up for another flick.

“And!” Gabriel says, leaning back with his hands up. “Sometimes little brothers have to cover up for their big brothers when they almost punch the shit out of their half brothers!”

“So you tell them to throw a dinner?”

“No! That’s not even how I roll. All I said was that you were probably talking to her. Blame Nancy. And Tyler. And ma! Once Nancy suggested it, ma was ready to tag along. She’s been trying to stick her nose into your life for years.”

Miguel’s shoulders just slumped.

He pulled Gabriel in for a hug, “Sorry Gabri. I should have just asked you. She was just being really weird about the whole thing.”

“It’s ok, nobody knows your heart like me. But, do you really think it’ll be that bad?”

Miguel pondered that question.

“Hopefully not. I won’t let it get awful. She doesn’t deserve that,” Miguel says.

“Let’s look at the bright side. Tyler likes her. Dad likes her. Nancy’s opinion doesn’t really matter, but she likes anything Tyler likes. Kron is an idiot. And I definitely like her.”

Miguel clicks his teeth.

“Oh don’t make that face, Miguel. You know you love me!” he says and puckers at Miguel’s face.

“Ew, get away from me. You were just slobbering all over Dana,” Miguel says as he pushes Gabriel away and turns to go to his designated room.

“You’re so mean!”

GymRat!Miguel who answers within seconds when you call as he sits on the bed.

“Happy New Year!” you sing out, dragging the ‘year’ in a cute melody.

“Happy New Year, baby,” he says, smiling at your cuteness.

“I got your package!” you say, fighting with the phone to stay straight. You finally get it steady and start backing up. “It’s so comfy! The chest part is a little snug, though. Nothing too crazy.”

You stand in the middle of the camera. Miguel had delivered a bunch of his old sweaters to you after you mentioned wanting to snuggle during one of your FaceTimes.

He did everything to make sure they smelled like him. He used a specific detergent. He sprayed them in his cologne. He even wore them each for a set amount of time.

The one you were wearing was merchandise from when Gabriel decided he wanted to play basketball. You turned around and Miguel was met with ‘O’Hara’ printed across the back and your cute little shorts.

“Do you like it?” Miguel asked, internally freaking out. You’re wearing his clothes and his name.

“I love it!” you say, grabbing the phone and climbing onto your bed. “They smell like you too. I feel nice and warm.”

You brought the neck of the shirt up over your nose, eyes smiling at the screen. You were going to be the death of him. He’s become jealous over cotton and wool.

“Can I see it one more time?” Miguel asked, eyes heavy as he sat back against the headboard.

You popped up from your cocoon of his sweater and bit your lip, “Is this riling you up, Miguel?”

“More than you know. How could it not? My girl is wearing my clothes,” Miguel replied earnestly.

He heard you let out a soft noise, embarrassed as you stretched the phone out.

“Yeah, I’m really loving this,” Miguel said, voice lower.

You brought the phone back to your heated face, still not used to that type of response from Miguel.

“Don’t hide from me, cariño,” Miguel said, watching as you fanned your face. “Let me see you.”

“Cariño?!” you say, heart beating even more.

“Are you not my sweetie? My baby? My girl?” he asked, looking at you playfully.

You just rolled to the side and let out a huff.

“You’re teasing me,” you say, voice just above a whisper.

“Not teasing. Just admiring,” he says, eyes twinkling.

You bite the nail of your thumb, “I have an old selfie stick. I can go get that if you want to see more.”

“Please!” Miguel all but shouts.

You giggle as you run to get it out the of box. Miguel’s anticipating the show as he listens to you throwing things across the room.

When you get your phone high in the sky to pan over your body, it takes everything within Miguel to not start howling. Your legs were glowing, thighs full and ready for him to grip and bite. Your shorts were squeezing your hips. Most importantly, his sweater was stretching across your chest.

“God, I wish I was there,” Miguel groaned, rearranging his pants. His excitement was making his clothes feel uncomfortable.

“Me too,” you say, panning the camera back to your face. “I want my muscle bear.”

“Yeah?” Miguel asked, smiling at the screen. He loved it when you called him that.

“Mm hm,” you reply, picking at a loose thread. “I told my mom about us. She was getting worried and said I was walking around the house like a ghost. She’s excited to meet you.”

Miguel sat up straight, heart dropping. That was a stark difference from his mom.

“That’s great! When does she want to meet? I need to get her a gift. Is she still looking for that travel bag set? Or do you think she would prefer a meal?”

“Miguel-”

“I can ask my Abuela to help me make something. Does she have a favorite restaurant? Should I wear a suit? Business casual, maybe.”

“Mig-”

“I need to get her some flowers too. Does she have a favorite flower? Oh my gosh. Is she allergic?”

“Miguel!” you speak up, laughing at his state. “Calm down. It won’t happen until like, next month. You have enough time to prepare.”

“Baby, don’t laugh! This is important. I have to make a good impression,” Miguel pouts.

“And you will! I’ve already told her so much about you.”

He actively gulps, “Even the party?”

“Ok, that didn’t go over too well. She ran her mouth to my dad about that. But! She doesn’t blame you,” you say, calming tone.

“She hates me. Your dad hates me. How am I going to win them over?” he says, dramatically bopping his head against the wall.

“Miguel,” you sigh. He just groans out shaking his head from side to side. “Baby, look at me.”

The cursed baby card had Miguel at attention.

“You’re sweet. You’re handsome. You’re intelligent. And you’re charming. I promise you, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” you say, reassuring him.

Miguel nods slowly.

“You think I’m handsome?” smile creeping back.

“Oh my god. Is that all you got from that?”

“No! But you called me handsome, so I have to lock that away.”

“You also have himbo tendencies,” you respond.

“All the better to fawn over you with, cariño.”

GymRat!Miguel who curses when the pictures of you in his sweater come in shortly after you in the call. One of them is you on your stomach with the ‘O’Hara’ on full display with your underwear and ass peaking out.

He sets it as one of his wallpapers in record speed.

“How do you expect me to NOT be a himbo?”

“Feral”

“Oh my god. 😭”

GymRat!Miguel who does his same pick up and spin you around number when he sees you a couple of weeks later. You were glowing and giggly.

GymRat!Miguel who casually greets the people in the dorm lobby as he carries you to your dorm room. You didn’t even fight him, as he was always adamant with PDA. You just put your head in his neck and didn’t look up until you were at your door.

You saw the red face of one of the girls living on your hall as Miguel kissed your neck. You quickly averted your gaze, squirming so he could hurry up and open the door. Miguel just assumed you were hungry for more and took even longer to open the door.

“Mig-” you say, cut off as he groans into your skin. “The door, please.”

Your legs wrap around him tighter as he turns to where you were just looking.

“Sorry about that! Got a little excited,” he says to the girl with a wink. She turns even darker and it looks as if steam is about to escape her head as she scurries down the hallway.

“Rude.”

“Miguel!”

“What? She could have said something instead of just watching us.”

“Just please. Open the door, you goof.”

“Yes ma’am!”

GymRat!Miguel who is ecstatic that Jess won’t be there until tomorrow afternoon. He lays you out on your bed and hovers over you.

“I missed you so fucking much,” he says and drops his body on yours. You let out an ‘oof’ relishing in his dead weight.

“I missed you too, Miggy,” you say, patting his head. “Enough to be on my bed with outside clothes on.”

Miguel looks at you, sheepish. “I’ll help you wash them. And pay for it.”

“Yeah you will. But for now,” you pull him close and bring his lips to yours. “Let’s enjoy this.”

He loses track of time and kisses you until your stomach growls for dinner.

GymRat!Miguel who goes all out for Valentine’s Day. He opted to buy you one of the Valentine’s Day packages that the school offers, figuring that it wouldn’t hurt.

He sets up a small breakfast for you and Jess for Galentine’s as a gift for having his back. He had MJ deliver it to you, as he still had class that morning.

He sent you a photo later after his workout, one of your paper kisses on his cheek as he stood in the mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist.

You almost screamed in the middle of your studio class.

To end the day, the two of you did a couple challenge in Target. Once back in his car, you both gave each other gifts.

You almost cry when his “something that reminds me of you” gift is in fact not something from Target. It’s a cute bunny necklace inside of a handmade box.

“Miguel! This is so beautiful,” you say, in awe at everything.

He puts the necklace on for you, “A bunny for my baby.”

You devour him with kisses in the Target parking lot.

GymRat!Miguel who’s sweating bullets when your mom comes to visit later that month. He woke up with his stomach rocking. He couldn’t even look Peter in the eye as he stepped out of the bathroom, apologizing profusely.

“Dude, you might not make it out of here if you don’t calm down,” Peter says while lighting a candle he definitely wasn’t supposed to have in the dorms.

“I know, I know. It’s like my body can sense the bad vibes from my brain,” Miguel says, gathering everything for today’s lunch. “I haven’t even eaten anything today.”

“Cheer up, O’Hara,” Peter says as he pats his back. “At least you’re not meeting her parents’ eyes while you’re humping their daughter in their guest bathroom!”

“Jesus, Parker.”

GymRat!Miguel who laughs when he sees Gabriel’s texts. He’s sitting in the parking lot of the meeting location an hour and a half early.

“Ik your ass has the bubble guts”

“Remember to breathe”

“And that the dinner with our mom might be waaaay worse”

“Like”

“Miles worse”

“Thanks for the words Gabri”

“Real touching”

“So you’re saying I should become a motivational speaker?”

“Got it”

“Not quite!”

GymRat!Miguel who runs open the restaurant door when sees you from the waiting area. He’s so freaking nervous.

“Hello!” he says, holding the door for you both. Your mom gives him a quick thank you as you all step inside.

“I remember you saying he was tall, but I didn’t know he was this tall!” your mom says to you as she holds Miguel’s arms.

You introduce them, “Mom, this is my boyfriend, Miguel O’Hara. Miguel, this is my mom.”

Miguel almost sputters as you casually call him your boyfriend.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Miguel says, handing her a gift bag and you both a bouquet of flowers. “I have heard so much about you.”

“Likewise,” your mother says, shocked at the gifts. “And what a gentleman. You didn’t have to get me these!”

“Please,” Miguel says. “I needed to get something for the woman who brought such a gift to this world for me.”

If Miguel still wasn’t so nervous, he’d chuckle at the twin surprised looks you and your mom were sporting.

GymRat!Miguel who hits it off with your mom quite well. He’s a bit shaky at first, stuttering over simple phrases when the conversations were first starting. You put a hand on his thigh, rubbing your thumb to bring him reassurance. From then on, he just let go.

He’s able to chat about everything she brings up. Even the obscure TV show that she loves to watch. You’re highly impressed with how good he’s doing.

He even apologizes smoothly when the sorority party is brought up. Your mom reaches across the table to hold his hand and tells him that she is proud of him for owning up to his mistakes and taking a stand.

She heads to your car first, giving you two some private time.

“You think that went ok?” Miguel asked, finally relaxing his shoulders.

“I think that it went swimmingly. I also think that I want to kiss you.”

Miguel turns to you, blush high on his cheeks and neck as you walk your fingers up his thigh. You give him a peck on the cheek and say you have to drive your mom back to her car.

Miguel walks you out and waves you all goodbye as you leave the parking lot.

“He is such a handsome young man! Charming, too,” your mom finally says.

“I know!” he was never going to shut up about that once you told him. “What else do you think about him?”

“I think he’s great for you. He’s very smart. Respectful. He’s clearly infatuated with you. He couldn’t stop looking at you.”

You avoid your mom’s gaze as she teases you.

“He was lovely, truly. He has my approval. Now, it’s your father he has to really impress,” she says with a chuckle.

You rolled your eyes, not even ready for that storm.

“As long as he doesn’t break your heart, he has nothing to worry about from me. Your father? One bad day and you might not see Miguel ever again.”

You just tapped your finger on the wheel and pursed your lips, mind lingering near the future.

GymRat!Miguel who talks to you about coming to his house after the semester is over. The midterms were soon but so was spring break. He had to let you know sooner rather than later that his family was going all out with trying to meet you.

“A dinner?” you say incredulously as you look up from your sandwich. “Like at a restaurant or at home?”

“Like a full blown dinner party at my bio dad’s house.”

“That’s,” you say taking a pause as the words settle. “A lot.”

Miguel felt like shit.

“I know. Look, I can tell them to cancel the whole thing. They can see you whenever,” Miguel says, sliding his foot next to yours under the table.

“No. If attending this is how I can make a good impression, then I’m more than willing to attend. I just need to prepare. Starting right now.”

Miguel smiled, “And I’ll be there with you for every step of the way.”

Miguel sat with you and helped you break down every relative that he knew was coming.

Gabriel

You knew him already

Easy to please

Annoying (according to Miguel)

Likes you a little too much (also according to Miguel)

Wants to steal you from him

“Miguel, I don’t think he’d do that. He has a girlfriend,” you say, still writing down notes.

“Baby, I know my brother. He might have a girlfriend but that doesn’t stop him from being Denis the Menace,” Miguel huffs out.

Tyler

His biological dad

A little aloof, but means well

Gifts money like it’s nothing

Might still be a little in love his mom

Will give you a bear hug, unaware of how large he is

“Kind of like you, babe,” you comment.

“But I’m doing way more than hugging you, babe.”

“And he’s in love with your mom?”

“It’s a long story.”

Nancy

Tyler’s wife

Definitely married Tyler for the money but eventually found love with him

Owns a Pomeranian named Lala

A bottle blonde turned housewife

Wanted to actually be on a housewife show until she secretly went to Bravo-con and saw how stuck up all of the housewives were

“I feel like that was pretty obvious, but alright.”

“She’s still not the brightest, but she’s nice.”

Kron

A dickhead

Miguel’s half brother

Tyler and Nancy’s only child after Nancy never wanted to go through the pain of childbirth again. And she didn’t want anymore changes to her body.

A year older than Miguel

A dickhead

“Should I have to stay clear of him?”

“No because if he tries something with you, I will handle him myself.”

George

The dad Miguel grew up with his entire life

Where Miguel gets his hopeless romantic tendencies from

Really likes soccer, wanted one of his sons to be a soccer player but got two nerds instead

Met his mom before she knew she was pregnant with him and charmed his way into her life. He didn’t know that Miguel wasn’t his until he was born and Tyler barged his way into the room when he was originally visiting someone else. He saw Conchata’s name on a baby sign and came in crying.

He still stayed with his mom because he loved her but he made Tyler sweat for ever leaving his mom like he once did: lost

“Your dad punched him?” you ask, stopping your writing.

“Yeah. My mom says it wasn’t pretty. Tyler learned a valuable lesson that day because Nancy came in and slapped him once she figured out what went down. He’s never denied Nancy or my mom a material thing since.”

Conchata

Hard on Miguel but dotes on him a lot now

The reason for a lot of Miguel’s self doubt

Wanted Miguel to be a doctor but has settled with science

Blasts music on Sunday mornings while she cleans, therefore waking the entire house

Will actually give you trouble (hence the conversation from two months ago)

“Did she give Dana any trouble?” you recall Gabriel’s girlfriend. “Is there anything that I need to not do specifically?”

Miguel tilts his eyes up, “Now that you mention it, I feel like she welcomed Dana with open arms. That might be more of a little brother privilege than anything else, though.”

You bit your lip, “That’s not good then. I don’t want her to think awful of me or our relationship.”

“She won’t. She just needs time to process.”

“That makes it sound like I’m stealing you from her.”

Oof.

Abuela

Already eager to meet you

Miguel’s world

Taught Miguel how to do certain meals and crafts as he was almost always at her house

Thinks you’re gorgeous

“She said that I’m gorgeous?” you ask, shocked.

“And talented,” Miguel hums. “And brave. Lots of compliments.”

“Oh!”

GymRat!Miguel who stays pent up all of spring break. He was supposed to be enjoying his days off but instead he’s replaying your whiny voice messages and watching videos of you in his clothes. He doesn’t know how much more he could take.

He looked down at his state. Tissues, lube, ragged sheets, your polaroids, his phone. You were driving him crazy.

GymRat!Miguel who almost sprints around campus when his last final is finished. He’s free! For a couple of months at least. To celebrate, he and Peter are having a small get-together in their dorm room with lots of pizza, wings, jello shots, cake, and games.

GymRat!Miguel who cries like a baby at Gabriel’s high school graduation. His baby, who he raised and cared for, practically birthed, is growing up!

George makes sure to get a wobbly video of Gabriel dancing across the stage and Miguel with snot dripping down his face as he hollers.

“What to do with these two?” George sighed as he wrapped his arm around Conchata.

GymRat!Miguel who tussles with Gabriel later that week after he finds out that he sent that video to you. Their dad has to come break up their play fight.

GymRat!Miguel who isn’t surprised that Tyler managed to pay for all of your transportation and stay ahead of the dreaded Stone-O’Hara dinner.

Miguel picks you up from the fancy hotel and thinks that his dad went overboard.

You're waiting in the lobby when he sees you, stunning as ever.

“Wow,” Miguel says, stunned to stillness as he takes you in, unbeknown of his presence. Your dress is flattering you in every way. His goes from your legs, to your heels, to the necklace he got you for Valentine’s Day adorning your chest.

“Baby, you look amazing,” he says, finally coming up to you.

You look up at him with those deer eyes again.

“You think so? It’s not too much, is it?”

“Not at all,” he says grabbing your purse and helping you to your feet. “So beautiful, cariño.”

You duck a bit, bashful from his gaze. Miguel leans your head back up, stealing a kiss from your lips.

“If we weren’t expected, I’d take you back up to the room,” Miguel whispers.

You ball your hands on his chest and look around nervously.

“I might have to take you up on that offer tonight,” you whisper back, heart rattling.

It was Miguel’s turn to feel shy. He walked close behind you as you both made your way to his car, mind racing of the things you both could get up to.

GymRat!Miguel who thinks your reaction is adorable when you see just how huge the Stone property is. You can’t believe that one man owns all of this land. Miguel tells you that this is, unfortunately, just the beginning.

GymRat!Miguel who almost knocks Gabriel down. He’s gawking at you like an idiot when he opens the door to Stone Manor.

“Woah,” Gabriel says, mouth gaping like a fish.

“Hello to you too, Gabriel. It’s nice to meet you in person,” you say with a cute curtsy.

Gabriel continues to flounder, mouth opening and closing like that cat meme.

“Will you at least let her in, you idiot?” Miguel barks.

“Sorry! So sorry,” Gabriel says and opens the door further. “That’s really embarrassing. You’re supposed to see my charm and fall madly in love with me.”

Miguel is about to seriously hurt him when Dana comes around the corner and does the job for him.

“Who’s falling in love with who?” she says, elbowing Gabriel in the stomach.

“Nobody and no one!” Gabriel keels over in pain.

“Thank you, Dana. You could probably hit him again for me,” Miguel says. “I want you to meet my girlfriend.”

“It’s a pleasure! The boys have told me a lot about you. I hope that you enjoy tonight’s dinner,” Dana says, reaching her hand out to you.

“Gabriel has said a lot about you as well. He didn’t say how cute you are though!”

Dana blushes instantly and holds her hand over her mouth as she giggles.

“Of course he couldn’t. He was too busy trying to win you over. I might have to beat them both to the punch though,” Dana replies.

Miguel and Gabriel just make the same irritated noise.

GymRat!Miguel who hold your hand as the four of you walk into the dining room. You’re gripping his hand tight as you take everything in.

It was so grand. Like a hotel. The ceiling fixture was huge and intricate. The color scheme was muted with pops of bright white.

It was…a lot.

“There she is! The lady of the hour,” you see a man even taller than Miguel say. He has brightly gray hair that’s styled intricately so. He’s grinning bright as he comes towards you with his arms wide.

He indeed goes for something like a bear hug, just like Miguel said. Except, Miguel is there to steady you when Tyler collides with you a bit too hard.

“I’m so sorry, I’m just so excited to meet you! I’ve heard so much through the grapevine and I remember your emails like they were yesterday! Please, Please! Have a seat.”

“Not before she greets everyone, Ty-Ty!” you hear a shrill voice from behind him. “Sorry about him. He’s like a golden retriever. My name is Mrs. Stone but you can call me Nancy!”

You shake her hand and exchange pleasantries. She snaps her hand behind her with a beckoning motion.

“This is our son, Kron!”

You look up to see a man with platinum blonde hair and a scowl aimed towards his mom that could rival Miguel’s.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say, holding your hand out.

Kron eyes your body in a way that makes a horrible feeling go down your spine. His eyes plant themselves a bit too long on your chest before he decides to return the greeting.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he says, with a voice that assume was supposed to be smooth. Yuck.

Miguel quickly wraps his hands around your shoulders, “Let’s go meet my other parents.” He turns his mouth up at Kron as he moves you past him. If Tyler or Nancy weren’t there he’d buck at him.

“Mom, Dad, Abuela, this is my girlfriend,” Miguel says with a hand on the small of your back.

“Tan bonitia!” his Abuela cries and walks fast to take your hand into hers. “Eres tan bonita! Miguel! Where did you find such a doll?”

You giggle at her words, bashful at the attention.

“Thank you so much, ma’am. You are extremely beautiful yourself.”

“Oh, a sweet one too! Call me Abuela, yes? ¡Eres un ángel!” she says cradling your face to get a good look at you.

“Gracias, Abuela,” you say, a little softer. Miguel thinks he’s falling in love if he hasn’t already admitted it.

“Come, come! Meet my daughter and son-in-law!”

“This is George!”

“Lovely to meet you, Mr. O’Hara,” you say, looking into his eyes with a smile.

“A pleasure to meet you! My son has been in high spirits these past couple of months. And truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for what you did for him. He’s so stubborn, like his pa. He wouldn’t have budged!”

You chuckle at his comments about that O’Hara stubbornness, “It was no effort on my part, Mr. O’Hara. I wasn’t going to let something like that slide.”

You briefly turn to Miguel, trying to find a safety net under all this attention. You were happy to see that he was staring right back at you.

George then stepped to the side and brought Conchata forward, “Speaking of effort, I’d love for you to meet my wife.”

Here was the big one. The one you felt in your heart and soul was the woman of the night to please, the final boss.

“Mrs. O’Hara, what an honor it is to meet you. Miguel has told me countless stories about you. I’m happy to finally meet you face to face, and not just through words,” you say, holding your hand the highest it has been all night.

You could hear a pin drop with how quiet it was.

You panicked, thinking maybe you said something wrong. You’re about to pull your hand back until she finally reaches out and shakes your hand.

“Yes. You are the one that my son took forever to introduce me to. I’m happy that you made it here tonight. I do hope that you enjoy it,” she says. Her voice was calculating and a little cold.

You didn’t know how to take that so you just smiled and hoped that this was how she acted when she first met new people.

You heard the clinking of a fork against a glass.

“Gather around everyone,” Nancy said. “Dinner is about to be served!”

You all go to your seats. You smile at Miguel as he pulls your seat out and helps you sit at the table. He sits next to you and rubs your thigh, just as you did to him months ago.

Gabriel and Dana are sitting in front of you and Miguel. George and Conchata are to Dana's left as Tyler and Nancy are to your left. Kron has somehow placed himself near the head of the table near the parents, while Abuela is seated at the opposite end near the O'Hara brothers.

Nancy calls your name with glee, "I hope you came hungry because tonight we're doing a six-course meal."

You raise your eyebrows. You didn't know that this was the route they were going to take and from Miguel's face, he didn't know either.

There is an array of what you assume to be butlers and servers to come out, each holding a dish. There's even a chef who comes out with a smug look on his face.

"The theme for tonight is 'Everlasting Love.'"

You watch as Gabriel gives Dana a quick side eye and they communicate a silent conversation within just a few seconds. If you were to guess, it would be something along the lines of "is this serious?" and "as a heart attack."

"The first course is roasted artichoke hearts with a feta dressing drizzle. It represents the budding of a fresh relationship. I do hope you enjoy," he says walking away as the waiters lifted the cloches from the plates.

Below were the tiniest little artichoke hearts you've seen in your life.

As you were grabbing your utensils to begin eating, you could see Gabriel fighting for his life not to let out a laugh, shoulders twitching. Miguel just sighed as he put an entire heart in his mouth.

"So," you hear Tyler start up a conversation. "I hear that you are an art major. I would love to see some of your work. We do need a new painting for the entrance hall."

You wait until you swallow before you answer back, "I would love to create a piece for you! I'm sure you would want to see my work first, but whatever you want, I'm sure I can provide it."

"That's exciting! I'm so tired of seeing that boring white horse everyday. Right, Ty-Ty?" Nancy whines a bit as she leans close to Tyler.

"My wife is right. I'm sure your work will liven up the place!"

"I took that picture of the horse," Kron looked at his parents with a frown on his face.

"Oh, I wouldn't want you all to take that down. I'm sure it's very valuable," you say, trying your best not to upset anyone.

"Nonsense! We can always put the horse somewhere else," Tyler says, patting his son on the shoulder. "There's no need to frown son."

"You don't even know what her art looks like. It could be awful for all we know," Kron mumbles.

Rude.

Miguel's about to open his mouth but you quickly respond, "I would be happy to show it to you. If you don't mind, I can pull up my website right now."

So, you did. There are gasps, oos, ahs, and oh mys as your phone makes its way around the table. Kron's face cracks especially when he sees your work. He gets a little red in the face as he squeezes a compliment out.

By the time the next two courses come out, (an oddly pink soup based on the pool of memories that we store in our hearts and a market salad with cranberries and almonds to represent the start of young love) you've managed to impress the Stones, George, and Abuela plenty more times, shut Kron up four more times, and get an eerie stare from Conchata several times.

She hadn't really said a word since you shook her hand.

You all were enjoying a small palate cleanser of sparkling grapefruit juice to represent the sparks of love at first sight when she finally decides to speak up.

"Where did you get that dress?"

She had your full attention, "Oh! My mom lent it to me. She said it would be perfect for a special occasion."

"Your mom?" Conchata looked concerned. "She didn't think it was a bit inappropriate for dinner?"

You look down at your dress. Your cleavage was on display. You knew it was too much.

"I-I guess it is a bit too exposing," you say, conscience over every rise and fall of your chest she could probably see from her side of the table. You didn't bring a shawl with you either. You couldn't hide it.

"I mean, look at Dana. A long, non-revealing gown," she pans to Dana with a warm smile.

You did look to Dana who looked up, bug-eyed and confused. She looked back and forth across the table, a little incredulous.

"Ma, Dana's entire back is exposed," Gabriel said matter-of-factly as Dana turned her body a bit to show the criss-cross detailing of the string pulling the dress together.

"Sure, but, we can't see it here at this table."

"Conchata, dear, what is this about?" Nancy reaches her hand across the table, concerned.

"This isn't about anything! I'm just making conversation like everyone else here," she responds.

She's about to open her mouth again when her mom bites out a sharp "Conchata!" from the end of the table.

Luckily, the tension is broken by the chef bringing out the fourth course: a rare filet mignon to represent how our hearts bleed as they yearn for love.

How fitting.

You chewed your food in silence, controlling every movement that you could because now you felt that the entire table was ogling your chest.

It wasn't until the second palate cleanser, a red sorbet, came out that you saw that Kron's eyes never left you or your body. You felt sick.

You excused yourself and briskly walked to the bathroom.

You closed the door and took a deep breath. You looked over your appearance again. Was it really too much?

You washed your hands and took a few deep breaths. You were here to meet Miguel's family and make a good impression. Even, if his mom seemed to hate you, you were still gaining the hearts of everyone else. You're doing this for Miguel. Keep it together.

After a short pep talk, you straighten out your dress and your back, wanting to walk back into the room with your head held high.

What you don't expect is to be met with Kron as soon as you open the door.

"I'm sorry, did you need to use the restroom?" you ask, thinking that you were in there too long.

"No, but I was hoping to speak with you," he says, staring you down. "I apologize for my reaction earlier. Your art really is nice."

"Thank you," you say, trying to discreetly step from the door. He really did give you the ick. "I'm sorry that your parents are trying to take your art down. That was never my intention."

"No harm, no foul," he said. "What is confusing is how a pretty little thing like you ended up in Miguel's bed and not mine?"

"Excuse me?" you asked, a dirty look planted on your face.

"I'm not speaking another language, baby. You should dump him and get with the winning team. You'd make a great trophy wife."

"Look, Kron. Chronic. Megatron. Whatever," you say, trying to get away from him as he leaned closer. "I'd really appreciate it if you left me alone. I'm just trying to get back to dinner."

"The one person who you want to notice you is not impressed," he says with a snicker on his lips. "My parents seem to already enjoy you. You could drop this whole gig and be with me. Seriously."

GymRat!Miguel who storms over to where you went with a quickness. You were gone way too long and Kron was nowhere to be found.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Miguel asked with a bass in his voice.

"Great. Now the bear has been poked," Kron says to you. "We're not doing anything, Miguel. Calm down."

"You are doing something because why are you that close to my girlfriend?"

"Is she your girlfriend? Because I'm real close to getting a taste of that-"

Miguel grabs Kron up by his collar so quickly, you almost miss his movement, "You wanna finish that sentence?"

"Hey. Hey!" you whisper-shout, trying not to get the attention of everyone else. "Can we please just make it through this dinner? You two can do whatever you want afterwards. Please."

Miguel lets Kron go who sports a smirk across his face as he heads back towards the dining room.

"Thanks, dollface," he says, shooting you a wink.

Miguel only tightens his fist as he watches him walk away, "I should have hit him."

"Later, baby, please."

GymRat!Miguel who is significantly calmed down by the time you both make it back to the table. You let him breathe you in for a minute or two and it was like the bad energy was drained out of him.

The last two courses were a dessert and a specialty tea. The chef offered them both up at the same time, claiming that they complement each other like two parties in a couple.

You sipped your tea gingerly, happy to have made it to what you hope is the end of a long night.

The dessert in front of you looks delicious. It's in such a cute cherry shape, and it takes everything within you not to take your phone out to snap a picture.

You're about to dig in until you hear Conchata clear her throat.

"Are you sure you don't want to save that until tomorrow? I wouldn't want you to be bloated or anything," she asks hurriedly.

Oh.

So that's what this is about. All the remarks, the stares, the comments. They weren't about your character, your words, or even how you treat Miguel. It was all because of your appearance.

She thought you weren't good enough for her son because of your appearance.

You put the fork down, defeated. Conchata won the night.

Your throat burned as you bit back tears of shame and embarrassment.

"Mom, are you serious right now?" Miguel spoke up, voice cold as ever.

"Miguel don't talk to me like that! I'm your mother."

"A mom that's kinda being a bitch right now," Kron mutters under his breath.

You would agree, but it wasn't your place to make that comment.

Miguel lets that be known as he gets up and socks Kron right across the face.

The entire table is up in a flash, trying to get Miguel off of him.

Tyler is finally able to pull Miguel up after a few minutes. He's heaving, face the angriest you've ever seen it.

He yanks his body from Tyler's and opens his mouth, "This sorry excuse of a party to gang up on my girlfriend is over. I'm sick of it."

"Ma, you really said some horrible things tonight. I've tried for years to remain respectful towards you, but tonight you've really pushed it, and hurt someone that I love."

Love? Your eyes went wide and your heartbeat started to ring even louder in your ears.

"Kron, I've been sick of your bullshit for god know's how long. Biting off of me and my accomplishments is one thing, but cornering and harassing my girlfriend that I chose to bring around you is another. If you ever try that shit again, our poor dad isn't going to be able to get me off of you. You will never be me. Get over it."

"And finally, it seems that only a select few of you can stand up to the consuming fire that is Conchata O'Hara. I love my girlfriend for who she is first and foremost. She was the light that came into my life. You think I'm going to let something as minuscule as her body stop me from loving her? You should be ashamed, ma."

Miguel moves quickly as he shoves two plates in one of the butler's hands and tells him to pack it to go. He then turns to his grandma at the end of the table who didn’t even budge when Miguel snapped.

"Lo siento, Abuela," he whispers to her, truly upset that he let this get this far.

His grandma just gave him a long kiss on the cheek and whispered something in his ear.

"C'mon. We're leaving," Miguel holds your hand as he gets ready to guide you towards the entrance.

You bow to everyone, "I'm sorry about all of this." You're pulled by Miguel who wants to get out of the suffocating manor quick.

What a horrible first impression.

GymRat!Miguel who is silent on the car ride back to your hotel room. He's partially still calming down and partially listening for you to say anything. Your head hasn't turned from the window. He just places his hand in yours, hoping that he can get the message across that he was here for you.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn't see you crack until you're up in the hotel room, the lights are dimmed, and your heels are off. He's quick to wrap his arms around you as you sob. Your cries becoming louder and louder. His heart breaks at every shaky breath that you take.

"I know, I know. I got you, baby," he says, rocking with you, in hopes that you could just breathe.

GymRat!Miguel who helps you unzip your dress, offering to wash your body. You tell him no and that you need that little quiet time to yourself to think. He understands.

He still paces the room while you're in the shower, thinking about the things he should have done to prevent this.

GymRat!Miguel who feeds you bites of the leftover dessert, still wanting you to enjoy something from tonight. You hum in between bites, sniffling a bit along the way. Even in this state, you were most precious to him.

GymRat!Miguel who kisses away your tears as you let out your insecurities. He reassures you that you're perfect. Body, mind, and soul.

"I love you," he says looking at you deeply. "Honestly, I feel like I've loved you since our group project. I loved you since our smoothie date. I've loved you since carrying your art supplies. I've loved you since listening to you rant about animatronic rats. Since you opened your dorm door pissed off at me. Since our coffee dates. Since our library dates. Since I first saw you with your matching outfits."

You still couldn't believe it.

"You love me?" you say, still trying to comprehend.

"Te amo, mi amor. Deeply and truly."

GymRat!Miguel who keeps you in his arms the entire night, kissing you to oblivion. You're both staring at each other. A faint moonlight peaking through the curtains.

"I love you too, Miguel," you say, words drifting into the night.

It's all Miguel needs to kiss you to sleep.

dividers by: @y-onb + @benkeibear 🩵

a/n: If you would like to become my designated Spanish checker or a buddy to help me learn/write my Spanish, please let me know 😭. (There was already someone but I forgot your @ !!!)

As always like, reblog, and COMMENT! Let me know how you feel. 🩵

(I am thinking of putting these on my AO3 because they are officially long enough to be fic chapters lol. The question is...how much should I change the format?🤔)

taglist: @ghost-lantern @miguelhugger2099 @slushycoookie @emelie-s-h @lake-lili @obsessed-with-miguels-ass @scaleniusrm @superiorspiderass @lexluvswriting @flordelalunas @froggygal @vmpz8sauceee @famouscattale @nixinluv02 @jada-of-arcadia @spideykid22 @what-the-jams @julia4today @tojishugetiddies @samjinxx @sleeklyalisha @the-pan-liquid @prongs-lover @kikaaauu @urlocallocachica @wanderlustingcastaway @peachey-pie @ch3rry-bl1ss @girl-of-multi-fandoms @love-kha1 @manlikemilesmyguy @sillysillygoofygoose @monticellohoe @kodzuminx @lauraolar14 @bruhhvv @m4dyy @farrowroyale @ce3stvu @ohara-whore @muneca-lemon-steppa @alexa4040 @amelialysm @snails-doodles22

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jasongracesenthusiast · 4 days

Text

PRINCESS OF THE GODS !

PARING(s), percy jackson x daughter of HERA reader

WARNING(s), basically just marriage

AUTHOR’S NOTE, yeah i listened to juno while doing this, what about it

౨ৎ percy met you a little while after he arrived at camp. you were the only demigod child of hera, the queen of the gods. he was surprised at the thought that zeus would even allow you to live, but in fairness, he wasn’t dead yet either

౨ৎ you two didn’t actually consider yourselves friends until after ttc, when you were kidnapped (yes you’re taking annie’s place IM SORRYYY)

౨ৎ after the events of all that, percy found himself…drifting towards you, in a way

౨ৎ like, before everything happened, even if you weren’t necessarily friends, he did know you, like your existence mattered so much to him, he just didn’t know why at the time

౨ৎ but you, on the other hand, somehow did

౨ৎ when you were saved by percy and friends, you were very optimistic that it was him saving you and not somebody else, cause that just wouldn’t be as fun

౨ৎ anyways from the moment you met him, you were like “oh yeah that’s my future boyfriend right there”

౨ৎ and yeah calm down just a little bit, but you also just knew, and you thanked your mother everyday for giving you this knowledge

౨ৎ but you were also pissed because holy shit, it took percy a while to come to terms with how he felt about you, even after saving you and becoming friends

౨ৎ but when i tell you how many times you made a move until he realized

౨ৎ you were very clear about your feelings, like you genuinely had nothing to hide

౨ৎ percy was extremely confused about the fact that you never dated anybody at all

౨ৎ and loads of people at camp clearly find you attractive and percy does, too, so when you were like “oh yeah i’ve never had a boyfriend before” he was as shocked as possible

౨ৎ because like, it’s you

౨ৎ and you’d think that would make it click that he had feelings for you

౨ৎ unfortunately. it did the opposite.

౨ৎ and that was kind of your last straw. you literally sat him down and explained your feelings to him and how you liked him ever since he saved you

౨ৎ THAT’S when he fully realized it

౨ৎ and it’s not cause he’s stupid (mischaracterized percy jackson they could never make me like you), it’s because it’s YOU. the pretty daughter of hera who a lot of people crushed on

౨ৎ you were practically a princess and percy took that so seriously, he found it so hard to believe that you liked him

౨ৎ after insisting that you really did like him, yippie that’s when y’all started dating !!

౨ৎ and when i tell you how much of a power couple you are. you two just radiate that kind of energy, even if someone didn’t know you were together

౨ৎ like you didn’t even need to tell anyone, everybody just. knew, and percy was stunned and he was like, they knew??? did you tell everyone???

౨ৎ and you were like no that’s just the power couple energy

౨ৎ when i tell you he worships the very ground you walk on I FUCKING MEAN IT. you know that one thing where a girl is singing on stage and her boyfriend is sobbing? that’s you two

౨ৎ if i or anyone else had to describe your relationship, it would be that

౨ৎ since your mother is the goddess of marriage, you were very clear about the fact that percy was the man you were to marry, and everybody just like. accepted it

౨ৎ even people who had current or previous crushes on you accepted that, mostly because you often referred to him as your husband like it was a regular thing

౨ৎ percy lets you do it every time and never corrects you, even calling you his wife sometimes.

౨ৎ listen you had your entire future with him planned. from the proposal (if he didn’t do it by age 22, you fucking would), to the wedding, to having kids, all that. he knew he could not stop you like he knew you were prepared

౨ৎ but percy still loved every minute of it, because the thought of marrying you, the love of his life, was just astonishing. he loves you just as much as he loves the thought of making you his wife, because it was you he would be marrying.

#I FIXED THIS IN A NIGHT #everybody clap rn #percy jackson #percy jackson x fem!reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #daughter of hera!reader

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layuhsblog · 5 months

Note

Hi, I'm not sure if ur still open to requests (I'm so sorry if ur not >_<) but could u do some princess treatment with nct dream bcz I've genuinely just thought of them spoiling their gfs🫶🏻

NCT DREAM GIVING THEIR S/O PRINCESS TREATMENT

its not too princessy and more domestic and 'nct dream as boyfriends'

reqs are still open, ask away babies

idk how to write diff stuff for diff members but i tried and i hope you like it. definitely very fluffy tho. and YEP THEY'RE DEF THE SPOILING THEIR GFS TYPE

warnings: very fluffy, suggestive at some places, very crack, a bit imagine based as well, i think i swore once? i dont remember, some members are too short I'm sorry i was having writers block also ITS LONG.

also cus its so long its unedited.

members drabbles under the cut

Mark:

• I feel like if you're dating Mark, your house will never be quiet, whether its with his chaotic unhinged questions, his jokes, him singing or producing songs or just his playlists playing in the background. especially if you're the type to always need some kind of background noise while doing chores- he'll make you like a thousand playlists for every mood, every chore etc.

He'll even make you a personal playlist with secret songs only meant for you to listen, even if the lyrics are highly unhinged like;

"Yoyo my girls cookin, and she's hella goodlookin yoyo" just for you to laugh at his silly antics even when hes away for too long.

• I dont see him as someone who'll get you flowers cus I feel like he will get sad when they die. He'll stay up at night when youre asleep finding origami videos to make you paper flower bouquets. Each date a different type of flower. Even goes out of his way and googles what flower signifies what feeling, literally befriends a flower shop owner.

• He once called them at 4am to ask what flower means "I'm sorry, I messed up. Please don't break up with me." The phone hung up on his face ofc. Your argument was about mint chocolate and pineapples on pizza. You obviously wouldn't break up with him for that. (He hopes)

•You definitely have a specific closet filled w those paper flowers. He has never given you a handmade bouquet of your favourite flowers cus he plans on doing so when he proposes to you, hiding the ring at the bottom of the bouquet. AHH IM SOFT

•Personal Spotify, he'll sing you to sleep whenever you tell him to, whatever you tell him to.

•You once had an argument with him in public and he asked you how he can make you forgive him so you made him sing 'Welcome to Miami' infront on random strangers

•OH I FEEL LIKE. If you're on a picnic. He would take help from his members (the 127 hyungs. Dreamies are hopeless I'm sorry) and make you both a bento. Imagine your surprise when you opened the picnic basket and saw two lunchboxes one was spiderman and the other was hello kitty.

"Mark, this is so cute. But yknow I like spiderman too right?"

"WAIT WHAT DUDE, YOU DIDN'T TELL ME. YOUR FAVOURITE MOVIE? YOUR FAVOURITE SPIDERMAN? OPINION ON NO WAY HOME."

I've said this before and I'll say it again, Mark's the type of boyfriend to snatch a jar from you, tell you he got it and fail miserably. Most of the time when you DO have a problem opening a jar and you go to him..he gulps nervously.

"I, have to go to the bathroom. Be right back."

"Mark- ...you took the jar with you.."

You know where this is going.

"JOHNNY HYUNG, QUICK LOOSEN THIS JAR SO I CAN IMPRESS ____"

"LOOK BABE, I'M SO STRONG."

"Baby, I know you asked Johnny to help. But thankyou! Yes you're very strong."

To sum it up, being with Mark is dorky and comforting and you love that man with all your heart.

Renjun:

•I see Renjun as the type to do princess treatment stuff with you together.

•Like Idk how to explain it- you both spoil eachother. Your nighttime skincare takes you both HOURS because instead of doing like sane people, you do it on EACHOTHER, explaining every step of your routine to the camera (the mirror) in a fake accent.

•If he sees you painting your nails, he gets offended because he's your personal nail tech.

I definitely see him as the type to tell you,

"Gurl, that watermarble is a disaster. Let me do it for you." and he does a better job than you.

"Silly girl, this is why you should always let me do your nails. Don't even bother."

•He's adorable, if its your birthday or you achieved smtn big at a job or at uni he would celebrate it with you. Decorate your room with pink balloons and stuff, get you a tiara and a sash- like a true princess, get you a pretty dress to wear. Click your pics and share it on his close friends story.

You love it. You saved that same tiara for his birthdays and achievements and crowned him your princess. CUTIES

•Allows you to do his makeup while you're sitting on his lap on one condition, you don't click pics.

Once he grows into it though-

"Hey! Blend that foundation properly, my neck and my face are two different shades."

You show your puppy eyes to him he's cracking. Lets you take as many pics as you want, doesn't say shit when you post it. He's soft for you.

•I dont see him as a very verbally expressive partner, he'll show you through his actions, like the one time a family member of yours was very sick and admitted in the hospital while he was on tour.

•You were continuously crying on call and it was late where he was. He knew you had trouble sleeping for a few days as you were staying at the hospital with them. He flew in to surprise you and had a mini date in the hospital cafeteria. He made sure you ate and you both took a walk around the building after dinner as he comforted you and gave you advice on how to deal with everything going on.

He stayed in the room, looking after your family member as you showered and slept soundly after forever. You felt bad as he was jetlagged and tired but he scolded you and forced you to sleep.

You woke up to the sound of the door opening and the nurse greeting your relative the next morning. There was a note propped up on the couch you had slept in,

'Had to fly back baby :( Call me anytime and I'll be there. My girl comes first always, I love you<3'

•Oh your family loves him btw, he had also got a get well soon card and a bouquet for your relative.

You were gonna marry this man, you were sure of it.

•Overall he scolds you when you don't take care of yourself and always puts your needs first before his and trusts you fully to do the same when he needs it, and you will<3

Jeno:

•This is so random, but I really see Jeno as the type of boyfriend who bakes for you?

•its just a you and him thing. When you started dating, you were at his dorm and got hungry and night. So he decided to make you a mugcake? It tasted like rubber but you ate it anyway ans reassured him that it was really good. (It wasn't)

HE WAS DETERMINED TO ACTUALLY LEARN HOW TO BAKE FOR YOU.

•Y'all know that guy on tiktok who bakes for his gf?? THAT'S HIS INSPIRATION RIGHT THERE.

•Experiments each recipe on Jaemin before making you try it. Why do you think Jaemin hates strawberries? Its HIS fault.

•Yknow how...Jeno is so buff and sexy?? His favourite part of going to the gym is sending you post workout bathroom mirror selfies. (YES THAT IS SPOILING. SHUSH)

•He also definitely seems like the type to call you princess. If you hate that nickname? He doesn't care he'll call you anyway cus you ARE his princess. You eventually grow into it.

•Definitely the type to wake up no matter how late it is if you need anything. You're hungry? He's up and running ready to cook, go to the convience store or order food for you. Anything his princess wants. You got your periods? You think he already doesn't have your necessities stacked in the dorm bathroom already? Pads, tampons, everything- even if you're on cups, he'll always keep them ready for emergency purposes and incase the other dreamies have their girls over and they need it. Your bf is a gentleman yes. You love it.

•PASSENGER PRINCESS PRIVILEGE. You'll always be connected to the Bluetooth. You never have to drive ever in your life again. His favourite part of driving is you screaming out the lyrics of ur new favourite songs.

He will never tell you how tired he is of listening to the same song over and over and over again. Even if his ears feel like bleeding from listening to the same song again, he'll hold back his tears and just smile. He loves you but he's not a big fan of your music.

"CUS TONIGHT WILL BE THE NIGHT THAT I WILL FALL FOR YO-"

"For the love of GOD- Y/N IF I HEAR YOU SING THAT EMO ASS SONG ONE MORE TIME I'M ACTUALLY GONNA RIP MY HAIR OFF."

"You're so quiet babe, what's up?"

"Huh, nothing... just focusing on the road.. You keep singing, I love your voice hehe."

•Yknow how much it annoys him, youre testing his patience to see when he'll tell you to stop. He wont tho babe, he's getting tortured, stop please. (I unironically love that song)

Haechan:

•I think he's the most princess to ever princess which is why he's perfect at giving princess treatment.

•Also hes very clingy, wont leave you alone for even a minute.

•One time you were cutting fruit with a new knife you had just bought and cut your finger on it. He was so annoying with it;

"NOOO MY BABY GOT AN OUCHIE! NO DON'T TOUCH IT. I'LL GET A BAND-AID. DON'T MOVE."

"Hyuck, its just a small c-" He pecks your lips to shut you up and runs to his room. He runs back and to your surprise shows you a hello kitty band-aid. You laugh at that to which he pouts and claims that "it hurts less with this specific one"

Doesn't even let you wash the cut yourself. He washes it for you, puts antiseptic and lastly puts the bandaid on your finger.

He proudly admires his work and when you thank him he "kisses your ouchie" to which you cringed out for a solid five minutes.

•He's the type to say, "I GOT IT" to everything you're about to do.

Opening a jar? He's got it. Opening your apartment door after a date? GASP YOU JUST GOT A MANICURE, HE'LL DO IT. Reaching for the shelf to grab a mug? He's got his Johnny hyung to get it for you cus he can't reach it either.

•He absolutely thinks it's his job to make you laugh. You literally cannot laugh at another guy's jokes now. Mark is an exception tho, he'll fite you for Mark. How dare you not laugh at a stupid joke Mark made.

•Speaking of fite, He'll let you win all playfights. This is how you know shit is srs between y'all. Haechan is competitive. But he'll let you win. I know its an unpopular opinion.

•Especially if you don't have much in common with Haechan and start showing interest in gaming and ask him to teach you, he'll go very easy on you. Yknow, set his pride aside, let you win a lot of games before actually becoming competitive with you as well. Still he won't ever admit it even years after being together- if you have a particularly bad day, he would let you and not make it very obvious, even if you call him names and make fun of him for being a loser, he'll just have a lovesick smile on his face and stars in his eyes as you're doing a dorky winner dance for beating him.

The 127 boys are very proud of their maknae, he's surely grown a lot. You're both still incredibly immature but they love you together.

•Oh the only down side is you're always competing with Renjun.

"Blink twice if you love Renjun and Mark more than me"

*blinks twice*

"We're done."

"NO. I LOVE THEM BUT I ALSO LOVE YOU. DON'T MAKE ME CHOOSE PLEASE."

•You love him too much to get mad at the fact that he still didnt choose you

Jaemin:

here we go..

my bias wrecker.

•YOU CANNOT DENY He's going to be the best boyfriend ever.

•You want to put ribbons on him? he bought you those himself. the pinkest of pink ribbon for you to tie his hair, biceps, _anything_ with.

•He loves making you flustered.

•Will check up in you every second of the day.

"Did you eat yet? Slept properly? Drink enough water?"

•Nags at you like a mother.

•If you're studying for exam or just working from home in general he'll pop up to check in on you every five minutes with coffee, freshly cut up fruits, chocolates etc.

•If you're too busy to eat, he will pull a chair and sit beside you, stare at you while you work and feed you occassionally.

•When you're tired he'll give you a massage and draw you a pretty bath with rose petals and scented candles and stuff.

•He cannot say no to your puppy eyes. He loves cats but you're the reason he has three.

•Also the type to get jealous of the cats, AND you if you're not giving him attention. He doesnt know whether he wants to be at your place or the cats'.

•HE COOS AT YOU. A LOT. ANYTHING YOU DO. "AIGOOO MY BABY IS SO ADORABLE *insert incoherent wooing noises as he pulls your cheeks* and you're just there like- '🧍😀'

•If you're on a date, you don't even have to ask. He'll already have his camera ready, suggest you cute poses and click pictures for your Instagram. He'd stay up late to edit them himself.

When you're with Na Jaemin you cannot have a blank looking Instagram.

•Overall hes the sweetest and absolutely adorable but he also has a babygirl to take care of. (He himself is a babygirl)

Chenle:

•Oh hes SPOILING and hes SPOILING BADDDD

•Another one to call you princess.

•I saw a reel of him asking his nephew for a kiss before handing him money. THAT'S SO ADORABLE OH MY GOD MY HEART HE'LL DO THAT WITH YOU TOO.

•Even if you're not the type to accept gifts or ask for money he'll MAKE SURE you get used to it because he JUST LOVES SPOILING HIS PRINCESS

•If you're going for a spa or to get your nails done or any type of self care activity and you DONT ask him to pay, he gets mad. he'll sulk, wont talk to you.

"What's the point of being born in a rich family and working hard to earn a living if my girlfriend doesnt want to spend my money?😔"

"CHENLE, I CAN BUY MY OWN GUM FOR GOD'S SAKE. HOW BROKE DO YOU THINK I AM?"

•He loves you so much. Every night when he does his skincare, you're sitting on the bathroom sink and hes doing your skincare as well.

•Another nagger who will ensure you're hydrated and wellfed, keeps track of your period.

"Hello?"

"Open the door, I know you're on your period, I got you heatpacks, pads and chocolates. Let's watch Hamilton and cuddle."

"Lele, marry me."

"Pick your diamond, baby."

AAAAHHH I AM GOING FERAL.

•But, we all know chenle is so much more than just a rich guy, he'll sing you to sleep and stroke your hair whenever you're stressed

•He may be mean and nagging and annoying sometimes but hes such a huge huge softie for you its crazy. Everytime you walk into the room, its all music and wind blowing and time slowing for him. Cliche lover boy and I'm here for it.

•He loves you so much, if you pout at him he'll be on his knees at your service doing anything and everything you tell him to...even aegyo.

"HEY YOU TOLD ME TO DO AEGYO, YOU CANNOT CRINGE OUT NOW. I'M CUTE!!"

Jisung:

•MY BOY PAINTS YOUR NAILS FOR YOU, MESSILY

•He also tries to learn how to cook for you. The first time he cooked, the food tasted like dish soap cus he thought vegetables had to be cleaned with soap.

•Eventually gets better and cooks very comforting meals. They taste like home, you love it. Yknow the type of food that's not too fancy but its warm and make your heart feel full.

•Thats also what loving him would feel like. He wouldn't go OUT and extreme but whatever he does is warm and fills your heart with love for him more everyday.

•Occasional flowers, gets you chocolates/cookies/ice cream everytime you hang out.

•Lot of movie dates, he'll always let you pick the movie. You'll always be the small spoon

•Oh he always pulls your chair at a restaurant. Also has a habit of putting his hand under your shirt and just holding your stomach when cuddling, makes him feel closer to you. Same with hugging, when you hug his hand peeks under your shirt so hes touching your bare back. It's nothing sexual, it's just intimate.

•He would always purposefully leave his hoodies at your place so you dont have to steal them. He's too shy to admit he left them on purpose. Also does it cus if you stole his hoodie, his poor heart wouldn't be able to handle it. It would probably combust into flames.

"You forgot your hoodie at my place."

"Oh shit, well its okay, you can take it. I don't wear it much anyways." and you're just there thinking,

'That's your favourite hoodie man, you'd rot in it if you could.' You don't tease him about it though. Its cute to you that he trusts you with his favourite hoodie.

•He's the type to be jealous of your plushies but then would also go out of his way to buy more for you. He gets sad if you buy new ones.

In his logic, if he buys them for you, he's the father and the kids will be loyal and know their place. But if you buy them, they'll be too greedy to share you with him. Oh please, he talks to trees don't tell me things like these wouldn't cross his mind.

•He loves it when you ask him to pay for dinner cus you usually split the bill. He realised he loves it a BIT TOO MUCH, makes him feel all alpha-protecter, big boy and would start demanding that he pays for dates more often.

Unlike Chenle he's cool with it if you don't like it, he'll turn it down a notch.

•He just wants you to be comfy and he'll always stick to his boundaries while also keeping an eye on you, making sure you're okay, comfortable and happy with him.

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ne-videl · 7 months

Text

𝓾𝓷𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓰𝓮

♡

yandere Poseidon x fem reader

hide your tears and smile, little goddess.

yandere, unhealthy relationships, objectification, angst, power imbalance, depressed reader, forced marriage, poor english, sfw. first half – Poseidon's pov, then yours.

word count: ~1.5k

a/n: hii everyone!! how have you been? I have no ideas. like, absolutely. art block I guess?? anyway, have some of my old stuff. this is my least favorite yandere trope, but I love angst, so sometimes I go for it. by the way, when I first started it, I wanted to write a super idolized fluff but... well, we have what we have, or "why you don't want to marry Poseidon". hehe big booba man hehehe

the endless ocean is noisy outside the huge windows.

today, the sea sings a memorial service for you.

two people at the altar – the god and his bride.

Poseidon wants to smile rapaciously at her shaking figure.

she's afraid, poor thing. who wouldn't be afraid? he is, after all, the god of all gods, known for his cruel and merciless temper, the lord of the seas.

and she will become his lady very soon.

[name].

her name spreads like ambrosia across his lips.

even her name is so ordinary, so human, as, indeed, everything else about his charming wife.

she was a priestess in Poseidon's temple: in his own, so there's nothing wrong in taking what was already his. he noticed her by accident.

[name] was sitting hunched over, touching some bright flowers with her bruised palms. he liked to visit this temple sometimes: it was quiet and peaceful in the atrium, noisy humans did not flicker before his eyes.

little human girl did not even flinch when he silently stood next to her, only continued to look with big and very sad eyes at the colorful flower bed.

at their second meeting, she greeted him.

at the third time, she dared to start an idle conversation.

the fourth, and she talked about life in the temple.

at the fifth time she asked why he was coming here.

Poseidon always stood silently next to her, looming over her like a suffocating shadow. he was amused by her chattering, and, unexpectedly for himself, found her presence soothing, pleasant, unlike other humans, the mere sight of whom made the eye of the deity twitch.

life was bad for her in the temple.

[name] told him, she was sent to this place when she was still a girl, and she spent her whole life by the cold blue sea.

new head of the temple did not like her, saying that there was nothing for women to do here. that she should get married, but who needs her?

Poseidon saw the marks of beatings on her girlish body.

so he took her with him. she served in temple made in his name, spent her short life at his domain – it is quite natural that she will become his wife.

of course, it is unheard of that god marries a human – but does he really need someone's approval?

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

Hades advised to propose to her. it's the way humans do it.

Poseidon did not ask for her consent, for him it was just a formality: of course she would say yes, he was sure.

he will dress her in the finest silks, she will own the most beautiful jewels on all Olympus, the sea itself would be at her feet – how could a human girl want more?

smile spreads across his face as he sees her eyes widen, as she begins to shake – no doubt, from embarrassment – and his palm rests protectively on top of her head.

of course she agreed, how could it be any other way?

his fiancee is incredibly sweet. but weak and naive at the same time, like the rest of the human race. but he will protect her, give her a better life.

she must be very grateful to him.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

Poseidon remembers their wedding well, how [name] looked in amazement at the beauty of Atlantis, at the greatness of his seas.

in white robes, with downcast eyes, she swore an oath binding her life forever to a cruel deity, accompanied by singing of nymphs and the sound of the ocean.

she was now a goddess herself, whether she wanted to or not. of course, she wanted to, it couldn't be any other way. she loves him.

and, as the new lady of the seas, she will spend her now eternal life by his side. Poseidon will make sure of this no matter what.

she fearfully puts her small palm into his, while he, her husband, leads her through the corridors of the palace. [name] is silent. probably still embarrassed.

from now on, she will be the most beautiful ornament of his possessions, the shining pearl of Atlantis – his precious property, belonging only to him. and the sparkling ring on her tiny finger was proof.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

"wife." – [name] immediately turns around, smiles, comes closer.

his hand rests on her waist, his grip firm, possessively strong. she doesn't notice.

or pretends not to notice.

over time, [name] got used to him, cheered up, blossomed. it couldn't have been any other way, right?

songs, dances appeared, bright flowers and ringing laughter in the cold and empty corridors.

she became friends with his brothers, was able to conquer the proud Aphrodite, whom she now called her friend with visible joy.

Poseidon is pleased to consider himself a good husband.

he loves to see his wife smiling, laughing.

even if it's not just with him. it's better to be patient for a while, he thinks, than to lose her cheerful chatting for the whole evening.

though, she's cute even when she's angry.

Poseidon was gentle with her. allowed her much, much more than others, even spoiled her. [name] was his wife, after all, so he had to make sure she looked good enough.

he's a good husband.

[name] never contradicted him, never raised her adorable voice at him, never was not too selfish.

although deep down, he would like her to become more spoiled. so that, like him, she would not tolerate anyone's presence, except, of course, her husband.

to think of it, why would she need anyone besides him? she can be quite happy within the walls of the palace.

Poseidon dismissed these thoughts from himself – for some reason, his wife liked to be in society, even if without him.

well, he's willing to put up with her quirks as long as she knows who should come first for her.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

the outfit given by Aphrodite was very becoming to his spouse. Poseidon loved to see her beautiful.

in luxurious clothes, undoubtedly worthy of the wife of a sea god, or in the warm candlelight in the night darkness of their shared bedroom, happy or shedding tears, [name] was equally beautiful.

the precious treasure of Atlantis.

he was never moved by her tears – even if she was crying, of course she loved him anyway. [name] is happy. so why make a big deal about it?

none of the pathetic mortals could take care of her like he did. none of them would love her the way he does.

"you are my wife. you're not going anywhere."

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

you didn't tell anyone about your sorrow: didn't share it with anyone – neither with Aphrodite, nor with the nymphs and mermaids, your husband's brothers remained in the dark too.

a little human girl shedding tears by the huge waves.

an unhappy goddess, forever imprisoned in an cold palace, surrounded by hypocritical deities, in the iron grip of an unloved husband, eaten alive by sadness and suffocating hopelessness of her position.

none of them saw you as an equal: you were only a curious little thing, a way to dispel eternal divine boredom, and the Olympians, of course, did not bother to hide this fact.

you didn't know what your husband found in you, and you didn't want to. sometimes you wished that back then, many, many years ago, he would have left you in that temple, or that you would run from the garden in terror, or anything. anything.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

you knew your place well.

by his side, always, no matter what. from the very day when you stood at the altar and did not dare to raise your eyes to your fiance, you were no longer anything human.

from that moment, you became an ornament, a property, a beautiful doll. nothing more.

Poseidon wanted to see you happy – and you smiled, laughed, you did everything that you thought he would like.

are you satisfied? please tell me you're happy. I'm scared.

scared.

your husband allowed you the freedom he thought his property could have, and you greedily soaked up every drop of it.

you're lucky, you told yourself, you're very, very lucky. It could have been worse. any other girl would give her soul to be in your place, – repeated, looking at your own reflection in the cold glitter of jewelry.

you must be like it yourself. a thing. a thing, of course, must have an owner, and a thing cannot be sad.

Poseidon's cold hand rests on your waist, pulls you into his arms, and you do not allow yourself to resist: you exhale into his neck, placing your small palms on his broad back.

your spouse is purring contentedly.

he's happy. you can relax a little.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

sea nymphs comb your hair, weave pearls into thin braids, fold strands into an intricate hairstyle.

"what's bothering you, madam?" – the lady of the seas does not bother to answer, your dead calm gaze wanders over the high ceilings, walls and huge windows of your chambers.

a common topic of idle conversation among the Olympians was Poseidon's boundless adoration for his charming wife. cruel god who fell in love with a mere mortal – what a beautiful story.

even the ocean itself seemed to dote on you. whenever the warm waves caressed your feet on the coast, your dried-up insides were filled with melancholy. your body was here, in Atlantis, which became a prison for you, and your soul, which remained to pain in your chest human, floated far away. your tired mind wandered, and you are a little girl again, and once again the bright sun warms your childishly plump cheeks, and in your hands are colorful flowers, and the kind grandpa from the temple strokes your head.

Poseidon will be coming for you soon – as always.

as always, you will talk about something, laugh, sitting on his lap in the throne room. or in one of the living rooms, or in the bedroom – you were not allowed to leave him without permission.

you flinched when you felt his strong hand on your shoulder.

Poseidon smirked.

his wife is not going anywhere. she will stay with him.

forever.

not the best one of my works but uh well I felt like posting something

maaybe will be deleted since it doesn't look as good as I thought it would be in english

btw thinking about writing tartaglia fic soo the next one is probably gonna be genshin man again

thanks for reading!!

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #record of ragnarok #ror #record of ragnarok x reader #poseidon x reader #yandere poseidon #record of ragnarok poseidon #misha.writes #yandere

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moondirti · 1 year

Text

DOUBLE RAPTURE

MIGUEL O'HARA x F!READER x ALT! MIGUEL

「 Toasted, every atom in you blistering hot, knocking into each other repeatedly. It’s the buzz at the end of a cigar, embers burning, flickering down to concrete in coughs of ash. You’re both the fire and its aftermath, moaning breathlessly for all that you’re supposed to be in charge.

And tonight – stuck between two men who don’t look, but are, each other – nothing can tamp your flame. 」

summary: after apprehending an anomaly who turns out to be an alternate version of your husband, you indulge in your filthiest fantasy.

explicit (18+) | 6.3k words | part two warnings: pure smut, pwp, THREESOME, cunnilingus, squirting, throat-fucking, blowjobs, unprotected p-in-v, anal, double penetration, tummy/throat bulge, younger miguel is submissive, spitting, cum swallowing, hair pulling, mild degradation, possessiveness, tooth-rotting fluff, every kink under the moon tbh

In truth, it comes naturally.

Your Miguel – older, blunt around once serrated edges, wisps of grey streaking dark tresses – sits to the side. He fosters a tumbler in one grip, half-full with amber liquid. Scotch whiskey, neat; you’d poured the drink to give yourself something to do while waiting. It’ll help, you insisted. An outlet to sip on, or a loud-enough warning when set on the adjacent tea table.

Now, you see that it was more for your sake than his.

He’s entirely collected for someone watching another man’s hands run along his wife’s body. They pushed your shirt off a while ago, hurried to behold your covered form. You’re laying in your bra, breasts heaving while kisses trail down your stomach, nipping the sensitive skin there – and still, all you can focus on is him. Your Miguel, scrutinising the rush the man is in with disapproval glimmering on carmine eyes. If this whole thing hadn’t been his suggestion, you would’ve sworn the look was meant to kill.

Because he likes to take his time with you. It hasn’t always been that way. Ages ago, following your premiere date, you fucked for the first time in a motel he rented, both your apartments’ farther than he would’ve liked to drive. But, again, he’s older now. Seasoned. There’s a heavy ring decorating your finger that winks reassuringly at him, three carats for the three year anniversary he proposed on. It amplifies the truth each hour you wear it – he is yours, you are his, and you’ve all the time in the world to do with each other as you please.

Your third for the night is unfamiliar with the dynamic.

(Though of course, it makes sense for him to be.)

You have to remind yourself of the fluid lines that mark each component of this little fantasy. They waver and wobble, bleeding into one another sometimes like wet ink on parchment. It’s hard to decipher the words they spell out when trapped in thick, indulgent lust – your legs spread to allow the man room as he moves down your body. But it’s even harder to ignore the way your skin burns with the intensity of your husband’s careful contemplation. It singes, redefining those exact perimeters for you:

One, and the most important given your suggestion, is that this will never leave your room. It’s not distrust that keeps it rigid – rather, a shared concern for the integrity of the multiverse. Your Miguel is all too aware of the dire consequences it could face should the rule be broken. You are too. It only narrows down to the partner occupying your bed and his naivete to it all.

Two; to use the safewords established beforehand. You’re infamous for losing yourself to pleasure, the habit bordering on a dangerous degree. It’s why Miguel is watching, to ensure things start correctly. He’s piqued and ready to stop it should the man not understand your limits.

(However unlikely. Currently, you’re the one establishing them.)

The third – the one you have a particularly complicated time grasping – is that ‘the man’ in question is no stranger at all. In fact, it’s instinct to touch him in the same way you’re used to, your mind adequately fooled everytime you look at him. A full head of brown hair – albeit, cropped shorter than your voyeur’s, a fade in at his ears. Young skin, which you strain to notice is devoid of the crows’ feet you adore. Yes, he’s smoother, like time had taken sandpaper to your model and buffed out all his worn edges, but he’s still…

Miguel.

(Though he urged you to call him Mig, entirely oblivious to the subtle cringe that’d crossed your husbands expression. That nickname is one you hardly resort to. He’s revealed a hatred for it.

Another cue, then, that they are not one in the same).

So, it comes naturally because you’ve spent so long in this exact space. Dusk flooding your home in plum hues, the colour of a berry ripe with rot. Overhead lights off, golden lamps projecting sensual shadows on white sheets. Your face warm with alcohol and your panties pushed to the side by a hero named O’Hara, whose palms are large and dry but a burning furnace on gooseflesh.

The younger one, Mig, is not yet a hardened vigilante. He’s new to the game – DNA spliced with spider essence only seven months ago. In that time, he worked out his own method of inter-dimensional travel, tortured genius that he is. Hopped between worlds until, eventually, he blipped on your radar. You’d been sent to process the anomaly whose personhood you were unaware of, only to come face to face with a twenty-something version of your beloved.

There’s no room for bias in the delicate scale of the universe. He’d found himself locked with other transgressors of his pedigree. Miguel – yours – was vehemently opposed to the notion of him joining spider society, uncomfortably affluent in his past recklessness. He knows, better than everyone else; it’s a security risk, letting in a spider-man so inexperienced.

You think that it’s projection. That, and a recognition of the way his mirror couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off you.

(A flattering notion for all you refused to believe it. You’re about ten years his senior – surely, he’d have better prospects on his Earth. But you asked, perhaps to hearten any overprotectiveness that could manifest itself as risk.

Something wrong, Mig?

He only looked at you behind the red laser field entrapping him, a small smile on his face. No. Nothing. You’re just different back home.)

That was before. Before he embodied the exact enthusiasm Miguel had been afraid of, spearing your cunt with his tongue, his scalp no doubt aching under your relentless hold. He hums his encouragement despite it, begging you to direct him the way you please. At least he acknowledges his cluelessness – you can almost hear from the other side of the bedroom, acumen pulsing amidst heady air. Most men wouldn’t, their egos great fragile beasts. To have gotten around before might embellish their history with competent, but no one’s ever truly an expert on someone new.

Mig doesn’t pretend otherwise. He’s keen to learn.

That is the difference that encouraged this whole tryst.

“Unfurl your tongue, Mig. You’re focusing too much on– Oh.” Your hips buck, shoving closer to the mouth that does just as you say. He laps your heated core with spittle-drenched dexterity, combing between puffy lips. “That’s it. F-fuck… Just. Just don’t stop.”

The praise does well for him. He looks up at you, reverent – pupils not red, but black with the shadows his long lashes cast. You brush back locks that fall upon his forehead, affording him a better view of the effects he’s wrought. A thin layer of sweat clings to your flesh, gleaming with the fading sun outside. In your peripheral – framed gorgeously by the wall-wide window – it dips below the horizon, nebulous. Blurry on orange clouds.

Pinned under observation and a feverish assault, you feel much the same. Toasted, every atom in you blistering hot, knocking into each other with novel speed. It’s the buzz at the end of a cigar, embers burning, flickering down to concrete in coughs of ash. You’re both the fire and its aftermath, moaning breathlessly for all that you’re supposed to be in charge.

And tonight – bouncing between two men who don’t look like, but are, each other – the feeding of the flame goes untamed.

You find that’s the cause for it. There’s nothing to cling onto for purchase, the one anchor in this equation seated on his leather armchair, ankle on knee, content in watching you soar to uncharted skies on the chin of another. Your head flops uselessly to the side, scanning him once more.

There’s a tricky look to him, suspended on two lines of equal measure. You can tell he wants to join, to take control of the exploit and direct it how he sees fit. Perhaps it’s regret. Yet the pronounced mass in his trousers speaks to the contrary. Miguel palms it, testing his endurance by keeping his touch above cloth, rounding back once his heel presses its end. The sight catalyses your delirium; the knowledge that he, your dedicated husband, is tender with rushed blood and idle about it. Waiting for an opportune moment.

When you reach out an arm in his direction, you hope he takes it as one. Mig sucks your weeping cunt in a symphony of lewd noises, as though he’s trying to push the grace he’s been granting. Slurp. Tracing the perimeter of your slit, revelling in the way it clicks at his ministrations. Squelch. Nose driving into your clit, so hard you suspect he’s trying to bury himself there.

It only calls to your lips, how dry they feel. You’re parched of the one thing he chose to forgo, marking it as off-limits based on some arbitrary ideal. You don’t assume you understand it, instead wiggling your fingers – come here – at your husband. He skips over the grabby hands, devouring your bitten pout and droopy lashes, weighing them in his head.

“Mi vida.” You plea, voice pitched high and winded. The glass’s bottom glints with the last swill of his drink. He knocks it back before rising – sweeping towards you, tantalisingly slow.

Mig shoves your knees higher, practically folding you in half. Your hamstrings stretch with the motions, sending molten spasms to your core – that which he continues to eat out. He’s now doubtlessly coated with your juices, but he doesn’t relent, tracing messy patterns on the sweet spot he managed to pinpoint without your help. You’re reduced to a sore bruise, egged on with every poke and prod. Pleasure swells with blood, clogging burst capillaries. Delicate. Inflamed; deliciously so. You give him a validating pat on the head while a free hand wraps around your Miguel, ironing his waist as he ducks down to your lips.

All three of you are on the bed now. You can’t begin to process the depravity of it all, the way things suddenly become hot and bursting and real. No – you’re much too enthralled by the rough kiss you’re pulled into. It’s dominating and tastes like smoked oak. Honey and faint vanilla where his tongue traces your fauces. The flavours batters you into something vapid, stupid, until the older man has to cup the back of your neck to keep you from sinking.

Intoxicated – you thought you’d be familiar with it by now, how wholly he consumes you, but there’s a power imbued in his approach that has you struggling to keep up. It’s all you can do to keep moving your mouth against his, gathering the material of his shirt to pinion yourself.

He’s got a stubble that colours his jaw in grey, the stalks of it grazing your nose and flaying you raw. It leaves you feeling sunburnt, dazed yet still pushing forward, like the balm for relief can be found at the back of his throat. That’s something else, you note, flicking your observation over to the face between your thighs. Mig keeps himself clean shaven, a youthful shine to his complexion, no peppered hair to obstruct it. Without it, you can clearly see the way his high cheekbones curve inward, hollowing out as they lead down to a pronounced chin. Charming, especially as it shoves between the globes of your ass to make room for his continued efforts.

You’re close, so close. A dam about to burst with centuries worth of water and–

“Need help, corazón?” Miguel whispers, nudging your nose so you can look back at him. Your response comes in the form of a stuffy whimper, nodding minutely. What exactly he means by help, you’re not sure, but his double seems to understand, breaking the smallest bit away to whine a protest.

“That’s offens–”

“Get back to licking her cunt before I change my mind about you being here.” Your husband orders, glowering when the reprimand seems to create the opposite of its intended effect. Mig grins wickedly, a cocky aura about him as he obeys. Just as he’s about to make contact again, his gaze catches yours. The subsequent wink he gives is a warning – loud and bleary and smug – preparing you for when he dives back in with a vengeance, plunging into your hole with that cursed muscle that runs like velvet.

The air pinches from your lungs, squealing on its way out. Your toes curl and your muscles tense and then Miguel directs your face back down with thick fingers, steering you by your cheeks. Your lips pucker, mouth unhinging at the silent command the action echoes. Tongue flattening, you prepare yourself for the little dance you’ve trekked a hundred times before – thankful, in some part, that he’s doing it to ground you.

When he spits – hawking, a dense glob concentrated with scotch – onto an expectant palette, you suppress the devilish narrowing of your eyes. It’s almost habit to reflect his countenance, looking down with fondness and pride at the control you exhibit. Because you don’t swallow, not immediately. You wait for him to kiss you again, to gather the slaver and push it behind your molars with reinforced passion. And he does. Of course he does – that and so much more as he places claim to the hole that is solely his for tonight. You hardly notice when his clutch leaves you, skimming down to unclasp your bra.

Not when your breasts jerk free, nipples pocking at the shift in temperature.

Not as he squeezes each, tugging at their peaks until they’re fully erect.

Or even while he tickles the line of your abdomen, following the same path his counterpart did, smoothing over aggressive bite marks.

It’s only when you break away for great, gluttonous breaths of air – your vision blurring with hypoxia – and Miguel reaches two digits to your fattened clit, do you finally run up to speed. It’s a little too late, though, because he presses down and escalates your delight to unprecedented heights. Enough to see stars – enough to scream the loudest you have in a long while, so that all your appeals are fully unintelligible but available for the world to hear.

“FUCK! Oh my– Fuck, s-shit, shit…” You cry, tears finally breaking the tension at your waterline and running in an unending sequence. “B-both of y-yo– Ah! So good. I’m–”

Mig moans, sending vibrations right to the tightening ball of pressure in your gut. He’s snowballed his efforts, drinking you in with a sincerity. Specifically targeted is the spongy wall of tissue on the upside of your mound, suffering his battery and singing for it. String-plucked and pedal-pressed symphonies, composing a viscosity within you that sloshes behind your orgasm. Yes, he adds to it, but the fingertips rubbing you with bullish ferocity are going to break what’s holding it all back. You feel– know it.

Using your hair to hold your head in place, Miguel utters a string of debauched nothings onto your lower lip, face pressed close to yours. They’re quiet enough that even you have trouble catching them, your ears ringing with rising alarm. But you sense the way his breath blows, what shapes it creates, how it twines – and that fills in every gap for you. The intimacy manages to speak to the truth, despite all the degrading dirty talk.

“You like that, you filthy fucking thing?” Groaning, your husband increases his speed, goading you faster. There are crushing hands on your hips, and another wound into your scalp, pulling it taut. “So insatiable that you need two men to help make you cum, huh? Do you think you can?”

“Yes, yes, yes please. Please,” The very implication that he might stop before you do inspires unruly desperation. Your hips, arms, head – they all thrash in unison. “I wanna– I want to cum, Miguel, for the love of everything! Please!”

He slaps your clit in warning. The blow sends you reeling into a hush, so much so that you stop moving immediately, secretly wishing he’d do it again. To divert your energy, you stare right into his pupils, which shine with burgeoning playfulness. “You will, dirty girl. You’ll wish you didn’t though.”

“W–”

“Oye, wide eyes.” He turns to Mig, who's been curiously watching the display, jaw still moving against you. He unhooks under the attention, blinking rapidly. “Mouth wide open. You’ll want to catch every drop.”

He returns to strokes you in circles – furious, fervent. It’s a screw to the cork, twisting forcefully to combat the tension it’s working to release. You squeal, screech, do just about anything except contract your body like you’re compelled to do. You leave yourself loose, watching as Mig registers what’s about to happen, following orders and transforming into a receptacle for it. His fangs peak from behind swollen lips.

All you’re able to think about, plastered to this pane of double rapture, is how they don’t seem to retract. Permanent, unlike your Miguel – a fixture in his gums.

And then the dam shatters. Implodes, actually – collapsing into itself until it’s a small particle floating out with the deluge. You can hear it, the rush of fluid squirting from you. Consistently, pouring into the puddle the younger man happily gathers. He beams with satisfaction and looks so much like your husband, who does the same, brushing tears off your wrecked face.

With a core still convulsing, caught in the reverberant throes of pleasure, you’re mentally spent. Drained for every dime you’re worth and still wholly aware of the promise he made, flipping it over in your head. Again, and again, until it loses impact and dissolves from the impending future. For all you try, though, he holds power over you – even in memory.

You’ll wish you didn’t.

Mig sits up, crouched on his haunches. Chest bare of everything – including the curls that span your husbands’ – and in just his boxers, you can’t help but focus on either one of two things. His maw, pulled in a downward smile and soaked with clear slick, a concoction of saliva and your fluid dripping from where his canines poke out. But you find that it fills you with unwieldy humiliation to behold, so you fall onto the next.

Which just so happens to be his erection, trapped and throbbing from behind navy cotton confines. The head of it peaks above his waistband, purple and dribbling with pre-spend. It’s created a wet spot that grows larger by the second, and your humility is replaced by guilt for the poor thing.

Miguel, cooing in faux sympathy, swoops to caress the shell of your ear with his sinful proposal.

“What do you say, cariño? Want us to fuck you silly?”

Your hole squeezes around nothing, empty, speaking with a will of its own. He hears it, because of course he does – he’s in tune with everything about you – and manoeuvres you onto your stomach. By mere muscle memory alone, you get on wobbly knees, presenting your rear to the ecstatic man behind you.

And, your husband… Well–

He squeezes between your face and the headboard, tree-trunk thighs stretching out on either side of you. There’s a huge wedge in his pants, not at full size yet but stiff regardless, suffocated by time and space. Your mouth waters, appetite returning far too rapidly for how distant it seemed mere seconds ago.

“Beautiful, hermosa.” Mig groans, spreading your ass to get a proper view of the way your pussy drips for him. A quick glance back provides you with a lovely picture. Him, positively captivated with your holes – both of them, it appears, based on the way his thumb grazes over your tighter clench. “Can’t wait to feel you on me.”

His cock is out, too, briefs shoved under the sack at the end of his length. You take it all in like it’s the first time – despite the many traits he shares with Miguel. Fat, darker than the rest of him that gleams bronze even at night. Though rooted on a crop of tangled hair, whereas his alternate self prefers it trimmed short. When he strokes himself, anticipative, you note the mushroomed head. Circumcised.

An impish idea suddenly crosses your mind. Succumbing to it, you arch your back, knocking your behind on him. The action traps the appendage between you and his pelvis, and to add insult to injury, you wiggle around until it slots between your cheeks. Mig’s face screws up, close-knit, his hands scrambling for purchase on your rolling hips.

Something slaps your cheek. Grinning, you turn back to Miguel, his dick now extricated from its prison. The heft of it sways, tapping your nose and fluttering eyelids, so damn heavy that you cringe when it approaches. Two veins pop up from the smooth skin stretched along him, branching down to his frenulum, the spot you choose to start.

Your tongue runs along it, lathering the plump seams on your journey to the top. His nerve endings are mainly reduced to his head – unlike Mig, who’s still moaning as you grind across his length – so you stay there, particularly concentrated on the edge and the valley it creates. Your temples warm with the gentle cradle of two large hands, piloting you on your trip around his cock.

He smells like home – an ambrosial mix of leather and sweat, the backseat of his car where he fucked you on valentines. It’d been raining, windows made misty by passing fog, city colours painted on the grey wash. You’d teased him all day with a lack of panties and suffered for it, practically choked on pleasure, nothing on but a new pendant necklace.

Right now, you’re stuck in a parallel state. You can’t breath under the leaden attention of both him and his mirror, doing your best to keep sucking and grinding regardless of your dwindling strength. It’s difficult, difficult to divide yourself and satisfy them both, but fuck do you want to. More than anything, you’d kill to see them come undone in your holes – simultaneously, in some unlikely reverie. Pumped full of cum and praise by double the man you love most. Your tummy lurches with nauseous desire, teeth separating as you take Miguel into your mouth.

Peering up at him, if only to experience the way he loses control. But creases fold between his brow, reading your expression just as well. Without rush or need for brawn, he pulls the responsibility from under you, assigning it to himself by propelling into your trap, all in one go. He grates along the texture of your palette, cleaving your tonsils, and finally settling deep in your throat, triggering a series of ugly gags. To quiet down, you grip your thumb in a fist, focusing not on your lack of air but on contracting your throat around his tip.

“Are you going to fuck her or continue to rut like a dog in heat?” Your husband bites at Mig, ever self-critical. The latter man sucks in a challenging huff, patting your waist as he withdraws to centre his cock between your folds. He wags it until it catches on the divet of your cunt, hot and surging with natural slick.

Then, just when you think you can’t bear it any longer, he pushes in.

“Ghmmngf!” You cry, forced forward onto Miguel’s breadth, coughing out the saliva and pre-spend that threaten to smother you. Nose smooshing to his groyne as the other bottoms out, sheathed fully within you. You swear you can feel him in your guts, silently praising whatever taught him how to make most of your narrow space.

Like they’ve practised telepathy their whole life, both men dip to feel themselves through your body. Mig presses a sturdy hand to your stomach, positioned right at your mound where he protrudes outwards, admiring the visible bulge he creates in you. Similarly, his older counterpart cradles your neck, pinching the sides that expand and retract with the pistoning of his hips. He fucks your gullet slow, fast, and back to slow again – amused with the pace he can discern in more ways than one.

If your eyes hadn’t been rolled to the back of your head, you’d be blinded instead by a pool of blissful tears. They bubble up uncontrollably, wetting the cheeks already glazed with almost every other bodily fluid. You’re ravished, cock dumb times two. Your cunt is stretched to its limits, sucking your paramour in with vacuum-like violence, the gravity of it equatable to the sun.

Or, no–

Not the sun.

Something a hundred times larger, nearing the end of its life. With every rock of your body, it runs out of hydrogen, draining the last dregs of fuel before eventually caving in on itself, transforming into an infinitely dense mass. It happens in your core, Mig’s bruising pace only exacerbating the strain, contracting smaller and smaller. Boundlessly so, enough to brush off as you snake a hand down to your clit, tapping the sensitive bud, testing its reactivity.

When you flick it, though, you’re drawn back into the dip of spacetime. It’s inescapable, the one fixed point in all this mess, imminent for all your ragdoll self tries to delay it. The room pounds with sex, the scent of it accompanying every particle, reducing air to balmy filth that acts as a catalyst in your undoing.

Impossible. You know it’s impossible to acquaint yourself with the sensation of being filled on both ends. Despite it, you try. You claw onto what little authority you have, pushing past your clit to graze your nails on a pair of swinging balls. They’re full and drooping, slapping your thighs as their owner humps your cunt.

“Keep doing that. Fuck, fuc– mierda, feels so good. Yersotight. Soft. Soft and… ah, small.” Mig babbles, bowing over your form to kiss the dip between your shoulder blades. Your teeth graze the cock ramming your craw, an unconscious tick that has your husband tugging your hair in admonishment. “Hermosa– s’okay if I? Gonna… gonna cum.”

“Mmnmgh–”

“Not so fast.” Miguel says, tugging you off him at once. It causes the both of you teetering over the edge, to groan, something overtaking all executive functions and compelling you to listen. The lull finds Mig slipping out, unable to hold himself back should he spend another moment filling your pussy.

You’re carried upward, manhandled off elbows and knees, to straddle your husband’s lap, facing a wide chest with pecs as comforting as pillows. When did he take off his shirt? Your vision swims, crossing, oscillating with the unexpected motion – until, well, it doesn’t, stopping as your forehead finds solace on the dip beneath Miguel’s clavicle. It’s a reassuring change, your brain rewiring into safety mode given the fact that, when you cum again – however overstimulating – you’ll be within the arms that have always expertly navigated it before.

And he’s warm, an ever-raging bonfire that licks your breasts and pebbled nipples, heat penetrating your bones to seep into your heart. Your marrow follows soon after, melting into a potion of desire and relief, especially when his far more familiar cock replaces the void left by Mig.

“Wide eyes.” The older one calls.

“Did–” Said man stutters, shuffling closer. “Hope I didn’t hurt you, pretty.”

“Hngh… ‘Course n-not, Miggy. We’ve safeee– words, rmmbr?” You grunt, reaching a hand behind you to hold onto his bigger one, squeezing it for added reassurance. “My ass, tho-eahh. Please.”

“You’re– You’re being for real. Seriously?” He asks, rising hope evident in his tone. “Have you ever done it before?”

“Of course she has.” Miguel interrupts, rolling his hips instead of bouncing your tired body on him. “First drawer on your right.”

You laugh when the mattress wobbles, sheets tangling beneath his hurried scramble. The bottle of lube is almost empty, bought spontaneously during your honeymoon to Cabo. Your then newly-wed wanted to indulge your fantasy of anal on the beach, tucked away on a private cove he’d found just for the occasion. It’s been a vice ever since, just like all things with him. You’re addicted to the man, flat-out, scratching to get your fix whenever possible. However possible.

And, of course – due to a devastating soft spot that makes it hard for him to begrudge you anything – you now have two.

Mig spurts a substantial amount onto his hand, rubbing it on his dick and the ring of muscle it faces. Two digits thrust into you, exploring your elasticity, scissoring to make room for a much larger insertion. The man seated balls deep in your cunt kneads your flesh; obsessed with the chub around your waist, thighs, your cheeks especially, pulling them apart to make this whole ordeal easier.

Not that you necessarily need it, being used to it by now – though you preen under the attentiveness regardless. Your ego is a drowsy cat, tucked under a patch of sunlight, purring as its heavily pet all over. Muscles lax, borderline liquid as you moan with the training your rear clench receives. More lube is added when the previous pour dries up, shoved into the spasming sphincter, accompanying every lewd ministration used to loosen it.

You gasp, loosening and wet. When fingers exchange for a dick that’s packed, solid as steel, Miguel captures you into another teeming kiss. It’s to occupy you through the temporary pain, you know, suckling your tongue into his mouth with a gentleness unbecoming of your current lechery. The pressure soon subsides, ebbing and waning to an easier to manage fullness.

Fuck. You’re plugged on both ends, twin lengths driving into you, stroking each other through the thin wall separating your rectum from your vagina. Initially, they keep the same pace, working in tandem to strike and pull out at similar times – but the task is demanding. It prevents them from fully forfeiting to euphoria. Their nature soon takes over, a novel motley of priorities wrenching you apart.

Miguel goes unrushed, sybaritic, fucking you in waves of doughy passion. He knocks against your g-spot, groaning at the way you flounder. The system unspools a little emotional well, tugging heartstrings until you bite his collar to quell your wails. He’s dedicated, a professional in the trade of you; his cielita – the term of endearment mumbled on your temple, lips pressed there in a perpetual kiss.

And Mig–

Bless him.

He’s unhinged, ravished by the feeling of your gummy walls flexing around him. Consistently refreshing the lube that makes it possible, petrified at the notion that this could perhaps stop, doing all he can to counter it. His method is rough, fast, pelvis smacking your plush behind – of which Miguel has long since let go of. There’s emotion in the way he behaves too; a wild, unspoken, behemoth thing, like he’s been waiting his whole life for this. Not the anal, but you, specifically, panting in his embrace.��

(‘You’re just different back home.’)

Your husband might’ve been too quick to judge. If what you suspect is true – which it likely is, an assumption based on an inextricable fondness you’d felt when you first saw the younger man, like you were made to love every version him, in every timeline – then his haste is not innocent clumsiness, but a more dangerous prospect. Desperation. Crestfallen, degenerate desperation. He hadn't the chance to feel any of you before tonight, for one melancholic reason or another.

“M’not… w-won’t last long, beautiful.” He whispers between pecks, peppering them across your nape.

“N-No, me neither.” Whimpering, you twist to scrutinise his tousled appearance. “Want you to cum in me. Fill me so I sp-spend days scooping you out. D-Don’t wanna fo… Need to remember this.”

“Fuck… you can’t talk like that and– and expect me not to embarrass m-myself.”

“Isn’t she something,” Miguel joins, smoothing the stray baby hairs away from your sticky forehead, callused fingers grazing deliciously across sweaty skin. It’s now that you choose to regard their voices, the subtle variations between the two. One deeper than the other – smoked with a prominent accent that jumps at the end of every syllable. “Filthy, dirty little girl. We could stay like this ‘till tomorrow and she’d have no problem. Would bounce on our cocks until she milks us dry.”

“Y’probably need it to keep you in shape– Hmnff!” Is how Mig strangles, cut off as you convulse around his thrusting length. The mass returns, settled in your cunt – a star verging on supernovae level catastrophe, about to implode while they participate in a literal dick measuring contest.

“Watch it, wide eyes.”

“Shuuu… shutup, shtp!” You keen, falling back on the chest of your paramour while Miguel fondles – slaps – your tits, mesmerised by the way they jiggle, your entire body jostled as their fat cocks jam you full.

“Is my girl going to cum?” One says. You can’t tell which, eyes squeezed shut, though you don’t think Mig would dare use that pronoun. My. Not in good conscience, not when he didn’t kiss you for fear that it’d be crossing a boundary.

“I swear I’ll burst if you squirt again.”

“Don’t expect too much from her in this state.” The trigger to it all, that aching bundle of nerves mashed against your husband’s pubes, starts buzzing with electric urgency. You brace yourself for the lightning, the shock. “Silly thing, can’t begin to form words let alone ideas. Look at me, corazón. What do we say?”

You don’t know. You can’t care. No flying fucks exist outside the devastating wreck that’s about to transform you, squalling loud and shrill from every organ that still retains its function. Heart fluttering like a baby bird’s wings. Lungs depressing into shrivelled cavities. Soreness gnaws on your cervix, abused by successive thrusts. Your bones feel like mush, macerated under mortar and pestle and dissolved in blood.

It’s coming, that celestial calamity.

Mig agrees, gasping. “I’m gonna–”

“Oye. What do we say?” Miguel exhorts, catching your glassy-eyed stare with his.

The former man barks your name, completely winded. Your asshole jerks on his cock, which twitches inside of you, ready to blow. Sopping with lube and pre-spend, spit and your own slick, you can’t control the syphoning noises your holes make, blubbering on the cocks that split you apart.

It’s then the words finally find you – manners that your husband insists on.

“Pleeaase.” You cry.

“Fuck!”

Thick spurts of fluid coat your insides, wrung from the man behind you. His cum is blistering, burning the thin layer between him and Miguel – who surprisingly, given the control he’s exhibited thus far, follows suit, pumping you full of his seed. Your womb and rectum, the puffy folds and rim that try to keep it all in – are all frosted with pearlescent spend. Heady and dripping, staining a depraved mess on every crevice between your legs. Gross globs of it caking you, your skin barely visible anymore.

The thought alone – of two men’s essence, beckoned and bled out by you, mixing something disgusting on your most intimate parts – is enough to kick you off the edge. Flailing off that cliff, plummeting into an outburst that lets nothing escape. Not smell, or taste, or light – spinning a black hole of groundbreaking proportions.

You orgasm, again and again – or maybe the whole thing is all just one prolonged, feral, exhausting endeavour. Cumming until your muscles physically give out, going paraplegic with the strain of constant contractions. You crumple, sandwiched between two sturdy chests, stuffed with cotton and sex and pure endorphins, flying with no sign of ever coming down.

A siren's song – sleep, calling to you from the depths of consciousness – almost pulls you under. That is, until your husband manoeuvres you onto your back again, spreading your legs in a near split to expose your sloppy holes to your paramour. His expression is doused with reverence. Supple, soft, the tiniest bit guilty at the sight of you, desecrated by their combined efforts.

“Well?” Miguel prods, fanning your leaking cunt and asshole out wider. “Are you waiting for her to absorb it all? Clean it up.”

And – for the last time that night – Mig does as he’s told, ducking to gather every last bit of proof with his tongue.

Much later, you watch him pull his shirt over his head, snuggled close to your husband. The sky has deepened to its darkest form – midnight, a gibbous moon cushioned amidst glimmering stars.

“Well, it’s been fun.” The man sighs, brushing imaginary lint off his abdomen. He winks at you before turning to leave, testing his luck now that it can’t backfire on him. “If you ever want to trade him in for a newer model, you know where to find me.”

Miguel just grumbles beneath you, displeasure rumbling the hollows of his hairy sternum. You, on the other hand, smile gently, giving the parting gift of your humour.

Only for something better to occur to you. When his grasp closes around your bedroom door knob, you call out – voice a faint, hoarse thing.

“Mig.” You say.

“Yeah?” He replies, blinking back at you.

“I think you should go for it.”

And all your mild musings are confirmed when he nods, sheepish, like a child caught with a fist in the cookie jar. It’s okay – you mouth, because you know. Whoever you are on his Earth, with whatever cosmic odds stacked against you, you’ll fall. If only because it’s Miguel. Mig. Your O’Hara – such truth woven into the fabric of every conceivable reality.

Your husband catches on quickly, patting your sleepy head. It’s the first time he talks to himself with a tone that isn’t condescending, laying a sentiment you recognise as meaning more to his younger counterpart than anything you could say. Perhaps because it’s kind, a bit of proper advice made mushy by an echoed devotion to you. Or, perhaps because he’s witnessed the evidence to it consistently, all night long. Wide eyes.

“It’ll be the best thing you’ll ever do for yourself.”

part two

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samandcolbyownme · 6 months

Text

Summary: anon request - "Hey so it's my birth day tmr and was just wondering if you could write something for me like Zach justice x reader and he has a guest on the podcast and he gets jealous and the at the end of the podcast they have a cute moment before leaving and going home for like a rough but passionate smut"

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, Matt Rife Warning, Zach being Zach, banter, guest flirting with reader, Zach getting jealous, kissing, biting, hair pulling, slight choking, slightly rough and unprotected sex, fluff with a dash of filth

Word count: 4.9k | unedited

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

"So are you finally going to tell me who the special guest is?" You ask as you look at Zach through your phone screen.

He laughs, "Mm, what's in it for me?"

"Because tomorrow is my birthday and you'll be making me happy?" You say slowly and laugh, "come on." You pout into the camera and Zach sighs, "Stop being cute."

You smirk slightly and tilt your head as he continues, "or at least come be cute in my bed." You let out a laugh, "I think that that's my cue for going to bed."

"Laaaame." Zach drags out loudly. You scoff, "excuse me?" He laughs, "I said saaame. Goodnight."

You roll your eyes, "goodnight."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You show up to the house and walk through the door. Tara is standing with Alyssa and you walks up to them, "Hey."

"Hey!" Tara says, "Are you excited for today's show?"

You roll your eyes, "Zach wouldn't tell me who's coming." Alyssa laughs, "Really?" You nod, "I called him last night to see if he would tell me.. nope."

"Oh, well it's Matt Rife." Alyssa fills you in, "I have a feeling that Zach is going to be very jealous today."

Your brows furrow and you look between her and Tara, "Why.. um, why do you say that?" Tara rolls her eyes, "Please. That man is head over heels for you, y/n."

You laugh, shaking your head, "There'a no way."

"Alright party people, let's get ready to get this show on the road." Zach yells as he walks to his seat, "Special guest will be here in five."

You roll your eyes and make your way to your seat. Matt is going to sit where you normally sit, which is right next to Zach, so you sit in the seat next to Matt's.

"Fuck, sorry I'm late." Matt says as he rushes in through the door, "I'm here now."

Zach holds his hand up, "There he is. What's up, brother?" Matt walks up to Zach and give him a hand shake. He looks over at Jared saying hello to him and Tara before he look at you.

You're not looking at him, but you can tell his eyes are on you, and Zach secretly hates it already. Matt sits down and he waves to Alyssa, "Hey."

Alyssa smiles and puts her headphones on, along with everything else.

"What's up everybody, welcome back to drop outs." Zach says and you all cheer, "We have a special guest with us today, and it also happens to be very special day for someone else."

"Haaa-py biirthday.." Jared initiates by singing and soon everyone joins in.

"Happy birthday dear y/n. Happy birthday to you!"

"Thank you." You smile, "Thank you."

"Alright, now moving on to the more special part." Zach says and motions to Matt, "Matt Rife everybody."

"What's uppp." Matt smiles before looking to Zach, "Don't be mean to her. It's her birthday."

Zach looks taken aback for a split second before covering it up, "Yeah, you're definitely new here." Zach rolls his eyes, "Anyway."

"Oh. Wait!" Tara yells and stands up as she takes her headphones off. She runs off the set and over to her bag. Everyone is watching her and she comes back over with a tiara that says Birthday Girl in cursive, "Here!"

"Weird way to propose, but my answer is still yes." You laugh and look up at her from the tiara in your hands, "Thank you."

She takes it from your hands, placing the tiara gently on your head and fixes your hair, "You heard it here first everyone, this bitch is mine."

Zach raises an eyebrow as you look over at him and you roll your eyes as you smirk, "Zach." He shrugs, "What? You were thinking it too because you wouldn't have accepted Tara's marriage proposal if you didn't."

You tilt your head, raising your hand as you shrug, "Okay." You look over at Tara, "You got me there."

Tara puts her headphones on and leans in with a smirk, "I think I actually just fell in love with you, y/n." She laughs and you smile as you look around.

As the rest of you get lost in conversation, Zach's eyes zone in on the tiara resting perfectly on your head. His mind goes to watching you drop down to your knees and bob your head on his dick with it on.

"I think Zach fell asleep on us." Jared teases, "What the hell man? Are we that boring today?" Jared laughs and Zach looks at everyone, "I'm just not feeling it today."

"Everyone hold on." Alyssa laughs, "He's up to something."

"Are you okay, Zach?" You ask looking at him and he nods slightly, "Yeah," Quickly changing the subject, "So Matt, your profession is comedian, right?"

Matt nods, "Something like that, yeah."

"Huh." Zach nods, "What is your favorite thing to do within the show?" Matt purses his lips as he thinks, "Crowd work."

"That was my favorite thing to do at our live show." Tara nods, "getting to interact with the people was so fun."

"Exactly, exactly. And most of the people who come to my shows, know exactly what they're in for." Matt continues and you nod, "I can can agree that."

Matt turns his head, "You've been to one of my shows?" He smirks slightly and you smile, "I have."

"Which one?" He tilts his head and you laugh, "Liberty, I think? Cincinnati or something. I don't know but you went back and forth with someone who was a stripper."

Matt laughs and that causes Zach to clench is fist. He reflexed when Tara started talking, but he resorted to picking at his nails.

"Wait wait wait you need to eleborate." Tara laughs, "Please."

"Yeah we need context of this stripper incident." Jared laughs and Matt sighs, laughing as he starts to tell the story.

You look past Matt and stare at Zach.

His stare is on you and you squint your eyes at him. He purses his lips slightly and quickly winks at you. You smirk and so does he because he has you blushing.

"so yeah, but like I said, people basically pay to come get bullied by me." Matt nods, eyes flicking from your eyes to your chest.

"Have you ever hurt anyone's feelings by doing that?" Zach asks and Matt laughs, "Dude, are you not caught up with me?"

Zach sighs, "What the heck." He pulls out his phone and starts to google him, "Matt Rife Controversies."

"I love how he made controvers-ies, like more than one." Alyssa laughs and Jared nods, "Uh huh. Right."

"So while we wait, "Y/n. Are you excited about your big birthday bash tonight?" Tara says moving around to get comfortable, "I can tell you that I am so fucking ready to drink."

You nod, "Oh my god. I actually can't wait. I just got pictures of the venue being set up and it looks so good so far." You pull out your phone and go to the pictures.

You hand your phone to Tara and she swipes through, "Oh hell yeah."

"What time does it start?" Matt asks and you look at him, "You can come anytime after eight." He nods, "anytime after eight, got it."

This had Zach's blood boiling, "So you have made a lot of people mad." Zach chuckles, really wanting this podcast to be done and over with already.

Matt laughs, "Yeah, yeah. But I mean, that's honestly party of the gig." He shrugs, "I'm not for everyone and that is something that actually took a while for me to come to good terms with."

You carry on the conversation and a few others for the next hours and a half.

Zach couldn't wait until Alyssa said you all were good so he can finally get you alone for more than a few seconds.

Once the time comes he rips his headphones off of his head and rests them on the mic, "Thank you for coming onto the podcast, Mr. Rife."

Matt stands up, shaking his hand, "Thanks for having me." He points to you, "I hate to rush off but I have a few other things to do, but I'll see you guys later, yeah?"

You nod, "See ya." You wave and Tara waves, "Bye, Matt!" Alyssa waves and says by to him and right before he walked out he turns back, "Happy birthday, sweetheart."

Zach wanted to mock him horribly, but that would just be so out is the blue that people would start to question it, so he turns his eyes to you.

You smile and nod, looking back at him, "Thank you."

Matt gives you a wink and you turn back around, "Are we getting ready at my place or.. where do you want to meet?" You ask Tara and Alyssa.

"We can do it at my place." Alyssa nods, "Plus, I am close to the venue, so if we did need to we walk it's not far at all."

"Yes that works." You nod, "Okay. I'm going to go home and get my stuff ready. I will meet you guys at Alyssa's say.. six?"

They both nod and you give them a thumbs up, "Love yas. See yas." You go to turn and walk away but Zach walks up to you, "Hold your horses for a second."

You laugh and you turn around, mocking him, "I don't have horses." He smirks and tilts his head, "C'mere for a sec would ya?"

"Why?" You sigh, tilting your own head, "I need to go shower." He smirks, "You'll get a shower, I promise now come here."

He pulls you into the hallway leading to the stairs and he looks down at you. You and Zach have been good friends for a while now, even made out when he took you home drunk the one night.

You know the look he's giving you. You take a quiet breath, "Who told you?"

He smirks, "Eyes talk, sweetheart."

You bite your lip and you smile, "So are you coming home with me because I need to get my shit around."

He tilts his head, "Do you want me to come home with you?" You chew on your lip, this wave of boldness washing over you.

You lean in, "I have my own house. No one can hear anything." You lean back and smirk as you tilt your head towards the door, "Come on."

He follows you out to the car and gets into your passengers seat. You get in and look over at him, "So can I ask you something?"

You start your car and start to back out of the parking space and Zach nods, reaching over to slip his fingers into the rip of your jeans.

His gentle touch right above your knee driving you absolutely insane, "So, why now?" You glance over at him and he furrows his brows, "not following."

You sigh, laughing slightly, "why did you wait until now to finally tell me that you liked me, too?"

"I didn't say a word."

You look over at him, tension building rapidly the longer your eyes hold on his, "You didn't have to."

You lick your lips and look away, beginning to drive when the light turns green. His finger still brushing against your leg, itching for you to grab his hand and hold it within yours.

"So how do you feel about Matt being on the podcast?" You look over at Zach and he shrugs, "It is what it is." You roll your eyes, resting your arm on the consol as you dangle your hand right above his wrist, finger tips barely grazing his skin.

"Why are you acting like it wasn't a good podcast? I mean other than you being pouting and flirting with me on the down low."

You poke his arm and Zach groans, "Alright, you yanked my dick enough." He laughs and you roll your eyes, "You wish I did."

He points to you and smirks, "And that my friends, is a true statement."

You laugh, "Get on with it." You say as you pull into your driveway. You put the car in park and reach down to unbuckle, "We're not leaving this car until you tell me what I wanna know."

Zach opens his mouth, repeating exactly what you say at the same time you do, "It's my birthday, Zach. You have to be nice."

Your mouth drops and he gives you a nod, "Yes, princess. It's your birthday. Now.." he tilts his head, fighting back a laugh, "we needed to talk, and it needed to be somewhere you could take your clothes off.. " he fights back a smirk, "So, we can fuck in here or we can fuck in there." He points to your house and looks back at you.

You smirk, "who said anything about fuckin'?" He lays a hand on his chest, "Oh is this not why you brought me to your house? My apologies."

You roll your eyes, "You sound so jealous right now."

He scoffs, "Jealous of what, y/n?"

You press your elbow into the center console and rest your chin in your palm, "You know, you flirt, I mean.. fuck around with me every time I'm on the show and every time you see me, but never.." You hold up your pointer finger, and right now he's doing what you're doing and his face in an inch away from your finger.

"Not once." You move your hand and look into his eyes, "Did you pull me aside and give me that kind of a look."

"Explain this.. this look." He tilts his head, cheek now resting in the palm of his hand, "But you might want to make it quick because I don't want you to bitch because I made you late."

You roll your eyes, "You looked at me like you were in love." He slowly grows closer and you lick your lips quickly as your eyes bounce from his to his eyes.

"You ever think that maybe I am?" He whispers and you can't help but smirk, "I mean.. not like I was going to make that my birthday candle wish or anything."

He laughs, "Okay. I'll give you that one, that one was funny." You laugh and look at him, "Was Matt flirting sure me the final straw?"

You see him nod slightly and you bite your bottom lip.

His eyes flick down to your held lip and back up to your eyes, "Hey, um don't you have a party you need to get ready for?"

"Fuck." You laugh, nodding, "Yeah." You look at the house and back to Zach, "Come on." Zach stays still, "Where are we going?"

You smile and lean in, "So I can show you that you are the one that I want." You press your lips to his and his hand lays on the back of your head, not wanting you to pull away.

"Mm. Zach." Your giggles muffled by his lips on yours and you manage to lean back, "Hey. Come on." Zach huffs, "way to be a cock block, sweetheart."

He gets out, following you up to your door and his hands are roaming all over your body as you get your key from your key ring.

His hands slip under you shirt, "Runnin' outta time." Zach mumbles against your head and you push your door open.

He walks you in, hands on your hips and he uses his door to swing the door closed. You spin around and his body is on yours, a hand on your hip and a hand on the back of your neck, holding you to him as your lips meet his once again.

By this time, you had totally forgot you were still wearing the tiara that Tara got you and Zach's eyes fixate on it as he remembers what he first thought about.

"Knees." Zach says as he places his hands on your shoulders. You slowly drop down and you look up at him. He bites down on his bottom lip at he watches you undo his belt, "You know. As soon as that thing sat on the top of your head, I picture you exactly like this."

You feel your cheeks grow warmer and you let out a breath, "I totally forgot I had that on." Zach smiles, "I didn't."

You work to get his throbbing dick from his boxers move you've tugged his pants down. Your hand gently gripping the base of it, squeezing gently as you rise up to run your tongue over the head of his leaky head.

He lets out a groan and bites down on his lip, groaning lowly, "Mm." He looks down at you, "That's it, baby." He lays a hand on the back of your head, fully taking in everything about his fantasy that's coming true.

He moans lowly as you bob your head up and down, earning a gasp as you take him in fully, "Fuck, babe." Zach throws his head back, "That's my-" he looks down at you and pulls your head away from him. "-girl!"

You smile up at him and bite down on your lip, saliva dribbling down your chin. He swipes it away with his thumb and he nods towards your bedroom, "Lead the way."

You stand up, taking his hand into yours before you lead him up the stairs and into your bedroom.

You pull him in and close the door before Zach pulls you into him, lips meeting yours once more.

You let out a whine, gripping his shirt, "Zach." You whimper, "Please." You push your hips into his, reaching down between you to stroke his cock a few times.

He groans, hands gripping the hem of his shirt to rip it up over his head, and he places his hands on either side of your neck, "Shit." He breathes out, moving his hands down to your hips, "Get back there." He walks you backwards and it wasn't long until your knees buckled from hitting the bed.

Your back meets the mattress and Zach's lips meet your neck, "I really.." he speaks in between kisses to your neck, "..want to watch.." he kisses up to just below your ear, "..the birthday girl ride me."

You nod eagerly, "Please." You beg, "Please; Zach."

Zach chuckles, "And if I'm being honest, your whining and begging is completely boosting my ego-" he very quickly corrects himself, "I mean completely makes me want to cum inside that pretty little pussy."

You roll your eyes, "your head is swelled either way, Zach." You laugh, "But I'll take the second option please."

You bite your lip and his grip on your hip tightens before he rolls over to pull you on to his lap. He stares up at you for a few seconds before he nods while glancing towards your shirt, "C'mon now, you just told me you want me to cum inside you. Don't be shy now."

You smirk, laughing slightly as you pull your shirt up over your head, discarding it to the floor, "Happy now?"

You smirk at him and his hands move to your boobs with a nod, "oh hell yeah."

You watch as he looks up at you and with a swift motion, his hand is pulling you down to him by the back of your neck so he can kiss you.

Your lips move in sync for a few minutes then you suddenly remembered, it's my birthday!

But in panic mode, "Mm." You lean back, "What time is it?" You ask and Zach, obviously frustrated, lets out a short sigh, "Do I look like Father Time to you?"

"Well if you didn't still have your pants on, I could be on top of you already." You roll your eyes, leaning over to check your phone.

Zach scoffs, planting a gentle slap to your ass, "Sor-ry, I didn't know taking our time to enjoy this, wasn't on your agenda,too." You bite down on your lip to hide your laugh and you lean back over, looking down at him.

"I have a little under two hours." You whisper and he nods. His hands move to grip your waist and he slowly rocks your hips over his dick, that's straining against his pants.

"Zach." You whimper out, "stop teasing."

He rolls you over onto your back and his hands move to take off your jeans. He slips them down your legs and tosses them.

His bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes focus on your lace panties lying perfectly against your skin. He leans down, his lips lacing your skin with fiery, open mouth kisses as his fingers drift up your legs.

His fingers slip into the band of your panties and your hips rise as he pulls them down. His eyes flick up to you and back down to your soaked cunt.

He drops your panties beside him and locks eyes with you as he pushes both his pants and boxers down before moving to make his way in between your thighs.

You smirk, tilting your head as he lifts your hips slightly, "You know, you're incredibly hot when you're jealous."

You feel his dick brush against your clit and you gasp. Zach smirks and pushes the tip between your folds, "Me? Jealous?" He fakes a laughs and leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips, "Over you? Yes."

He thrusts into you and you let out a loud moan, "Fuck." You whimper out, "That's why it's so hot." He smirks and presses his lips to yours, and you accept his invite to make out.

His hips roll slowly into yours and you moan into his mouth. He swallows your moans with ears, kissing back towards your ear, "You're so beautiful."

His voice is low and you slide a hand down his arm and grab his wrist. You drag his hand up your body and place it around your neck.

You look up at him with such a pleading look, Zach can't help but not resist.

His hand tightens around your throat and you moan out, and your moans quickly grow quieter the harder he squeezes.

He leans up on his free arm and watches down at how your pussy swallows him with such great ease, "Fuckin' hell baby."

He looks up at you and his jaw literally falls slack to the scene below him, "Shit." He breathes out as his she's scan over your slightly reddened face, your eyes are rolled back with your lips slightly parted.

You're just absolutely loving being fucked by him right now.

His thrusts remained slow as he loosens his grip and you let out a quiet gasp. Zach stops thrusting and gently taps your cheek a few times, "Oh no. I killed her."

You smile and he sighs, "Phew. Great, because I did not want to have to put necrophiliac on my resume tonight."

You let out a laugh and lean up to push him to him to his back, "I mean, you know you have consent either way." You laugh as you straddle him.

Zach sits up, his face close to yours as he fixes the tiara that's slightly crooked on your head, "Hold on, baby."

Zach calling you baby and even sweetheart and especially princess, gave you butterflies. Even his jokey insults like slut, and bitch, and yapper number two, but especially slut because you would be his slut.

Any time of day.

"Better?" You ask watching him lay back, an arm tucking behind his head, "Better." He bites down on his lip as he watches you lift your one leg to reach down and hold his dick steady.

You spit into the tip of your fingers and smear it on him which causes him to gasp slightly. You smirk as you slide down onto him, eyes locking with Zach's.

His hands fly to your hips. You grip his forearms as you pant, gasping out at how deep he feels inside of you.

"Move. Sweetheart." Zach squeezes your hips, urging you to move in some type of way. You let out a whine as you roll your hips slowly, crying out Zach's name and other curses lowly.

"Use me to get yourself off, sweetheart." He winks, "I just wanna watch."

You smirk and you lean back, placing your hands on his knees for support. You bite down on your lip and keep your eyes locked on his as you start to move your hips up and down.

Zach positions one arm behind his head again, and places his hand under your thigh. His eyes move down to your pussy taking his dick, then he looks up at your tits bouncing each time your body meets his.

His eyes roll closed and his hips buck upward, "Goddamn." He groans out, "S-swe-etheart.. you're gonna make me cum."

You lean down, pressing kisses to his before you lean up, "Isn't that the point?" You ask, rolling your hips into his, moaning out quietly, "Zach."

He sits up and flips you over so your hips are pinned to the mattress, "I'd say you got about, maybe an hour to shower and get all your stuff around before you have to leave to get ready."

"Just fuck me." You whine, sitting up as you pull him towards you. His lips crash onto yours and you feel his hands push your thighs back, knees to chest type of deal.

You moan loudly, arching you back as Zach slides his dick back in to you, "What's the birthday princess want, baby?" Zach pants out and you dig your nails into his back, "I-I need you to cum in me."

Zach bites his lips, laughing slightly, "It's a risky move. I love it." He picks up the speed of his thrusts and sloppily presses a kiss to your lips, "I love you."

You freeze, "W-h- wai-" you laugh slightly, "Zach." He kisses up to your lips, "Mm. Wh-Wai- what, baby?"

"What di-"

Zach cuts you off, "I'll tell you later." He presses his lips to yours and you let out a loud moan as he thrusts his dick into you fully.

"Your arms tighten around his neck and you whimper in his ear, "I love you, too."

You feel his body tense and his grip on your hips tightens, "Say it again." He mumbles, turning his head in to kiss your neck, "Please."

You slide your arms down, laying your hands on his neck, moaning out as you squeeze his dick with your, desperate for release walls, "F-fuck.. Zach." You whimper out, "I love you."

You let out a moan, arching your back as you feel yourself quickly become engulfed with an intense pleasure.

Zach fucks you through your high, listening to every sound he can pull from you, "So fuckin' pretty." Zach grips your chin and his thrusts grow sloppy and slow.

You bite your lip as you feel his dick twitch inside of you and you look up at him. He raises his brows and lets out a sigh, "You told me to."

"I know." You laugh and reach over to grab your phone, "Fuck." You jump up, "If you're showering with me, let's go. But we're not fucking around."

Zach stands up, following you to your bathroom, "Yeah, you say that now. How much time you have?"

"Forty five minutes." You turn the shower on and Zach bites his lip, "Give me five of those minutes while we're in here."

You smirk and pull him into the shower with you, "Let's see it."

—

You were still shocked that Zach got you both off in five minutes before you rushed around and went to Alyssa's, but that was only after Zach trapped you in the car for another make out session while dropping him off.

Your party was going very, very well.

Everyone was having the time of their lives, and honestly so were you, you loved the attention but the only attention you wanted was from one person and his eyes have been on you all night.

His stare begging to get you alone.

You had to admit, Zach losing his final straw today was the best birthday gift ever, his jealously was super sexy.

"You look bored." You say walking up to him, "My party not good enough for you?" Zach laughs and leans in, "Nah, I just can't stop thinking about how pretty you sounded earlier."

You feel your cheeks darken and he smirks, "Happy birthday, Princess."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

I hope you liked this! I'm going to get some Sam snippets out so in the mean time, tell me what you thought about this. Ilysm! 🖤

likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

#samandcolby-ownme #zach justice x reader #zach justice smut #zach justice x y/n #zach justice dropouts #zach justice #zach justice fanfic #Zach justice dirty one shot #Zach justice x reader smut #Zach Justice x y/n smut #Smut warning #the Final Straw

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withwritersblock · 6 months

Text

Caffeine

~Caffeine by Jack Kays~

Author's Note: Fun fact I saw Jack Kays in concert and he played this song for the first time at my concert before it was released. Almost sobbed when I heard it. As always italics are flashbacks Summary: Luke Hughes proposes to Y/N Warnings: idk? Word Count: 2,038 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

The ring has been in his pocket for nine weeks. He’s taken it with him on away games and carried it with him wherever he went in case he wanted to ask. Despite having a specific plan to ask her at his lake house. It wasn’t because it was a special place in his heart, it was because of how gorgeous the place looked during sunsets and sunrises.

When she’s visiting with them in Michigan it was one of their favorite activities to sit on the roof and watch the sun rise. They never really got a lot of sleep while they were there, so they’d watch the sunset while on the boat with his family and friends.

Tonight was no different as they were all on the boat together watching the orange light up the sky and blend into the beautiful lake. Quinn and Jack were cracking jokes as Y/N was laying in Luke’s lap as he ran his fingers through her hair. The ring box was back in his room in the lake house. It wasn’t the right time, except right now, there was no right time. Nothing felt perfect.

Leaning his head down, he brought his lips close to her ear, “Hey,” he whispered. She tilted her head back, meeting his gaze. “Are you tired?” he asked as he brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face. She hummed as a reply as she tucked her head back against his chest.

“Take a nap,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips to the top of her head. She took a deep breath as he continued running his fingers through her hair soothingly.

During his study hall, students in his high school were allowed to roam the school. They had a little freedom on where they wanted to do their assignments. Luke’s favorite spot was the auditorium where the theater performances were held.

It was always extra quiet, dark, and he was always alone. Until one random Tuesday his sophomore year of high school where he was sitting on the floor all the way in the back.

He was typing up his essay about The Great Gatsby when he heard a voice singing. He lifted his gaze up to see the gorgeous girl pacing the stage and singing a song he didn’t know. It was a song from a musical, he concluded by the way her voice hit the notes.

She wasn’t trying, he could tell but the way her voice was so effortlessly beautiful had his heart beating fast. He delicately placed his computer beside him as he slowly stood up. He didn’t recognize her, he knew everyone in the school. Or so he thought because he’s never seen her before.

She continued to sing as she was walking off of the stage until she lifted her gaze from the floor to see Luke. She screamed as she slammed her hand against her chest. “Oh my god! What the hell are you doing!?” she shouted as her heart began racing fast.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, oh my-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you!” he let out panickedly as her scream nearly made him collapse. “I didn’t know you were in here,” he mumbled.

“What the hell were you doing sitting on the floor!?” she shouted as she brushed her hair away from her face. She took a deep breath.

“I spend my study hall here! No one is normally in here. I’m sorry,” he let out as he met her gaze, it was dark but her eyes were shining brightly.

She took a hesitant breath as she dropped her hand from her chest, “I spend my study hall in here too, I didn’t know someone else was in here,” she mumbled. He furrowed his eyebrows as he tilted his head to the side.

“Wait, so you’ve been in here all year?” Luke questioned and she nodded slowly. “Well this is awkward,” he mumbled.

“I rehearse here all of the time, how did you not know I was here?” she asked suspiciously.

“I normally wear my headphones at full blast but I forgot them in my brother’s car this morning,” he mumbled as he smiled softly.

Luke was standing in his room, staring at the ring box in his hand. He spent every day staring at the ring trying to picture it on her hand. He always went back and forth if the ring was the right one.

Ellen knocked on his door, he quickly shoved the ring box into his pocket as she pushed the door open. “Hi honey,” she mumbled as she stepped inside, Luke took in a sharp breath as he pulled the box back out of his pocket.

He flipped the box open again to stare at it. He slowly sat down on the bed as she sat down beside him. “It’s beautiful, Luke, stop overthinking it,” she mumbled as she stared towards his features. He pulled his lips between his teeth as he met his mother’s gaze.

“What if she says no?” he asked barely above a whisper.

Ellen pulled her head back as she shook her head, “She won’t,”

“You don’t know that, there’s always a chance she will say no,” he countered as he looked back towards the ring.

“She loves you,” she mumbled as she wrapped her arm around his back pulling her youngest son into a side hug. “And you love her, all you have to do is ask.”

“That’s easier said than done,” he let out with a chuckle. After a few moments of silence he asks, “Do you think we’re too young? Like, is it too early to ask?”

Ellen paused for a few moments as she took a deep breath, “You’ve been together for over five years, that’s long enough to know if you want to marry someone. Just because you are twenty years old doesn’t mean you don’t know what love means. You’ve spent five years loving the same girl, that shows that you are mature enough to want to ask the question.”

He smiled as he met his mom’s gaze as he nodded slightly, “I knew I wanted to marry her the first time I met her,” he let out as he pressed his lips together, “I don’t think I ever told you that,” he mumbled.

“No, no you didn’t,” she let out as she rested her head on his shoulder, “I’m proud of you,” she mumbled. He smiled softly as he took a deep breath in.

She was standing at her locker, swapping out her textbooks when Luke came up behind her and leaned against the locket beside her. She jumped as she placed her hand against her chest, “Why do you always feel the need to scare me?” she asked while laughing, she slammed the locker shut as they began walking towards the theater together.

She rehearses for her choir and musical performances while he sits and studies for his exams. He shrugged his shoulders as he tightened his backpack. He bit his bottom lip as he fought off the smile on his lips. “What are you thinking, Luke?” she asked as she licked her lips nervously.

“There’s that ice cream place a few streets away from school, I was wondering if you wanted to go after school,” he asked shyly. She squinted her eyes towards him and smiled widely.

“Are you asking me out?” she questioned, already knowing the answer based on the redness of his cheeks.

“Yeah, to ice cream,” he mumbled as he pushed the door open to the theater, letting her walk in first. “Where some people may consider it a date,” he muttered.

“Oh and are you considered some people because I’m some people,” she teased as she leaned her body against the brick wall beside them. He smirked as he glanced towards her lips.

“Oh I’m definitely some people,” he said as he took a step towards her, his gaze lingering on her lips. He thought about kissing her like he’s wanted to since the first time he met her.

She leaned towards him kissing him urgently, it was her first kiss ever. He quickly reciprocated the kiss, pushing her against the wall. He pulled away as he rested his forehead against hers, “Wow,” he mumbled as his heart was racing. His mind was in shambles as she was only an inch away from him.

It was six in the morning, the sky was slowly becoming more blue as the hues of orange were still vibrant in the sky. It was cold enough for them to wear hoodies, an easy way for him to hide the ring in his pocket.

The words were circulating his mind as if he was running seven miles on six hundred miligrams of caffeine. His heart slapping hard against his chest, his head aching as his hands were shaking. He was terrified she would say no. But he knew she had absolutely no reason to. She wouldn’t have been with him for as long as she was if she didn’t want to marry him. He knew that.

Her head rested on his chest as he was tightening his grip around the little box in his pocket. He tilted his head to the side pressing his lips to the top of her head. She hummed against his chest as she ran her hand along his chest.

“I love the city but nothing beats this,” she mumbled as her gaze admired the ripples in the water as the orange casted a gorgeous view against the water. He took a deep breath as he slowly forced her to sit up with him.

She furrowed her eyebrows as she brushed her hair away from her face as she looked towards Luke. He put both of his hands into his pocket, fiddling with the box as he looked deeply into her sleepy eyes

“Did I ever tell you that the second I heard your voice, I knew you were going to be the love of my life?” he asked.

Her lips curled upward slightly as she titled her head to the side. “No you haven’t,” she mumbled.

He took another deep breath as he dropped his gaze towards his lap, “I’ve tried finding the right words and how to perfectly say this but I don’t think there is a perfect way,” he paused.

“I know we’re young and can’t even legally drink yet,” he chuckled, “I mean you moved to Jersey with me without giving it a second thought. That made me realize how all in you were with me. I’ve spent five years in love with you,” he met her gaze and saw the tears forming in her eyes, her smile was wide, “I know we’re young and people are going to have their opinions but-” he pulled the box from his pocket, opened it and showed it to her, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes-” she let out excitedly as she lunged towards him wrapping him in a hug, he collapsed on his back. He laughed as he shut the box, securing the ring, as he tightly wrapped his arms around the center of her back. He squeezed her tightly to his chest. “I’m so in love with you,” she whispered in his ear before she leaned towards him, kissing him softly.

“I was worried you were going to say no,” he mumbled as she pulled away, she shook her head dramatically.

“There is not a single part of me that doesn’t want to marry you,” she let out before she kissed him again. He delicately placed the ring box into his pocket before he rested his hands onto her hips. “Put the ring on my finger,” she mumbled as she sat up, straddling his body.

He excitedly reached into his pocket again to pull the box out. He pulled the ring from the holder and took a hold of her left hand. He slowly slid the ring on and it fit perfectly. She stared at it and started tearing up again. “It’s so beautiful,” she mumbled. He hummed as he stared towards her admiring her frame as the sunrise was behind her, illimuting her already gorgeous frame.

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