#she’ll tear you apart with a smile

[estrellami-1]

So that bit where Steve rips I to Murray about outing his loved ones and pushing Nancy to cheat on him...

Have you considered (yes, I just realized it was part of the initial ask, but I've been dwelling on this for years, man): Not only does Joyce find out that Jonathan helped Nancy cheat on the boyfriend he DEFINITELY knew about, but she also just found out about the photos through Steve's upstairs bedroom window. Photos that could not ever be claimed as accidental. Now, Joyce has been holding a bit of a grudge against Steve since he broke her boy's camera. Jonathan only told her that Steve Harrington got pissed off and busted it, not why. And then Steve went and fought with Jon and her son got arrested while that rich boy got off scott free. That just reinforced her grudge, especially considering the stress she was already under at the time. But then she finds out it wasn't just Steve being a bitchy popular jock, but that her boy was also being a creepy dick. And she recalls that Steve not only apologized for breaking his camera, but that he replaced it, too.

Enjoy! Also @zerokrox-blog hope this answers your prompt :)

Jonathan’s been scared of his mom before, for good reasons: when he was seven and broke a vase after she’d told him to stop running in the house, at eleven when he lied about his grades, at fifteen when he snuck out for the first (and only) time.

Every time she gets really mad at him, she gets quiet.

She’s been silent for a solid ten minutes. The only words she’d spoken had been to Murray, to tell him to leave. She’d been quiet then, too, then just stayed silent.

“So here’s what I thought the story was,” she starts, and Jonathan wants to dig a hole to China and bury himself. “I thought Nancy and Steve had broken up, then you and she had gotten together. I thought he broke your camera because he got mad at you for who-knows-what. I thought he fought you, antagonized you, until you couldn’t hold back anymore. I thought I knew you. I thought I knew the son, the man, I raised, would never sleep with a taken woman. Would never hide in the bushes and take pictures of someone else’s property or body. And to think she’d been half-naked…” Joyce shakes her head, leans back in her chair. Considers the knife still clutched in her hand and very carefully places it down next to her plate. “To think that I thought he’d been acting like Lonnie. Worse than Lonnie, even, which maybe wasn’t a fair comparison for a teenager, but I thought I knew my son.” She shakes her head again, stands, picks up her plate and silverware. Doesn’t look at Jonathan when she says, “I was partially right. Someone was acting like Lonnie. It just wasn’t who I’d originally thought. And to think I held onto a grudge against him for years.” She purses her lips, steps back from the table. Whispers the next line. “You need to think very, very carefully about your next move. I don’t know if Steve’s forgiven you. If I were him, I don’t know that I would.” She steps back again. “While you think about it… well. Forgive me if I need some time to think about it too. After all, you also lied to me.” She tilts her head in thought. “If memory serves, he replaced the camera he smashed. I feel that bears remembering when you think about what to do.” With that, she turns and makes her way to the kitchen.

And Jonathan? He feels about as small as a gnat. Even smaller. Nancy’s trembling next to him, hand over her mouth, and he’s not sure he should reach out. He’s not sure she’d want him to; not sure he wants to. He does, though, grazes the back of her hand with a fingertip. She chokes, looking at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, and he helps her up, helps her out the front door and into his car, gets in and starts driving without thinking about it first.

He realizes most of the way there that he was driving to the Wheelers’. Walks inside with Nancy when they get there, all the way up to her room. Silent.

“We need to talk,” Nancy says, and Jonathan nods even as he feels like the rug’s been yanked out from under his feet.

Fighting monsters was easy compared to this.

[meiieiri]

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: so she tells him not to cry over the injustice of a life cut too short for at the end of all this, she’ll only be a dream.

pairing: ex-husband!toji fushiguro x terminally ill wife!reader | song inspo: soon you’ll get better, cancer

warnings: heavy angst, terminal illness (primary bone cancer, stroke and MS), mentions of divorce/past infidelity, allegories to cheating, major character death. please read at your own risk. | a/n: this was so heavy for me to write, i started writing at 2 in the morning, and it’s 6:34 now.

word count. 3k~

“Why can’t you do anything right?”

Toji should have noticed, he laments as he takes a sip of his cognac. He should have sensed that something was wrong sooner, maybe that way, he wouldn’t be begging to borrow some more time to make things right. Your fingers were trembling that day — the first time you ever ruined his morning coffee — your hands shaking uncontrollably as you washed the mug with a sorrowful look on your face, your eyes glossy with the tears you were desperately trying to hold back.

He shouldn’t have been so harsh, he realizes that now. Breakfast had been burnt to a crisp and ruined, sure, but nothing could compare to how he constantly ruins the one beautiful thing that has ever happened to him, who haphazardly spilled her smoothie on him when they first bumped into each other in Shinjuku just after he finally cashed in enough money with Shiu to get his laundry done.

Toji, whose senses have now been honed to pick up on the slightest of your sluggish movements and your pained and suppressed hisses, hears the bedsheets rustling and he instantly gets up before you could even force yourself out of bed. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He catches you before you could fall backwards onto the mattress, your skin appears cold and clammy, your thinning muscles stiff as a board — you must be having one of your episodes again. “What do you need?” he asks, his voice heartbreakingly gentle for the first time in months.

“Water.”

Your husband nods, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, hurriedly making his way to the dining table which was now kept in your bedroom so you aren’t forced to move around too much. The sound of water splashing into the glass fills the air and you feel another stabbing pain coarse through your joints.

Toji gingerly brings the glass of water to your lips and you sighed, an exasperated yet amused smile on your face. “I can do it, babe. Don’t worry.” Why did that sound like you were trying to convince not just Toji but yourself? You bring your bony hands to grip the glass and it takes everything out of your husband not to break into a fit of sobs when he sees your hand violently shaking with effort just to keep the glass steady.

His larger hands close around your defeated one. “I-I…I can do it, I did it yesterday. Y-you saw me.”

“Shhh, I know, it’s okay.”

You bite your lip to distract yourself from the anguish of realizing the truth behind the doctor’s words. Everything you feared was finally becoming your and Toji’s bleak reality.

“It’ll be a painful decline.”

Funny how you’re the one fighting to extend your life but Toji feels like he’s already gone ahead and passed on. Just a few minutes earlier, you were overjoyed to see him again. You didn’t think he’d see your text thinking that his new girlfriend must have asked him to block your number, and you most certainly didn’t expect him to arrive when you asked for him via a brief phone call to drive you to the hospital for your monthly checkup since he took the car with him when you separated. He made up a bullshit excuse when Yuko asked where he was going in such a hurry and he makes it to your old shared apartment to see you sitting on the driveway looking thinner and sicklier than ever — your eyes were sunken, and your cheeks were hollow.

Yet in spite of that, you gave him the brightest of smiles, waving shyly to him as he steps out of the driver’s seat. “Happy morning!” you smiled, greeting him with your signature good morning tagline which he used to happily wake up to everyday. There wasn’t a scintilla of resentfulness in your demeanor, and you genuinely looked so happy to see him for the first time since he moved out.

“How long?” Toji asked the doctor, his heart twisted into knots when he hears you happily humming in the MRI room as you put your clothes back on, oblivious to the solemn mood in the other room. You already knew what was going on, but you’ll just continue pretending that everything’s alright and that this is nothing more but a case of fatigue so as not to inconvenience Toji.

“A year, maybe even less.”

“And…you’re saying it’s best if she simply…doesn’t get the treatment?”

The doctor sighs heavily. She’s seen many cases like this before, but none as utterly hopeless as yours. Even if you did start the treatment, the lesions in your spinal cord have already entered the most severe stage, you were already exhibiting signs of autonomic nervous system distress — the tremors, the uncontrollable stuttering of your words, the growing loss of balance — and as if that wasn’t enough, the doctor also discovers that you were suffering from primary osteosarcoma.

There was no way to cure you now that it’s too late.

“I suggest we just focus on keeping her comfortable. The only thing left for us to do now is to bring her home. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing. I can’t bring you anywhere.”

By some miracle, you and Toji went out one night around four months before the divorce proceedings. He went home that day, exhausted beyond all belief from another mission, but he was in a good mood. Yuko was out working late tonight, so, he decides to take you out to your and his favorite izakaya for some yakitori.

Some time during the night, after downing three full bottles of sake together, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” you told Toji, tipsily kissing him on the cheek as you hop off the bar stool in the direction of the women’s room.

You couldn’t tell if you were staggering from the copious amounts of alcohol you ingested, but your legs were beginning to feel heavy, and for some ominous reason, you were slowly losing all sensation in your left leg. You try to hold onto one of the izakaya’s shōji panel decor pieces to regain your balance, but it was a futile effort in the end. Your knees suddenly buckle, and a sickening crack tears through your tibia as you fall to the ground.

“Are you alright?!”

Toji picks up on the commotion instantly and he sees the izakaya patrons crowding around the hallway leading to the restroom. He quickly makes his way over and a look of disgust appears on his features when he sees you crumpled on the ground and the mortifying sight of you having relieved yourself on the floor, tears of embarrassment staining your cheeks at the thought of your body suddenly malfunctioning like this.

Muttering out an ignorant apology for his seemingly drunk wife, he roughly picks you up, growing increasingly infuriated with you when one izakaya employee offers him a damp cloth to dry out your urine with. It was funny how quickly other people came to your aid — people whose names you don’t even know — while your own husband seems very reluctant to even touch you right now. He doesn’t speak to you on the way home even as you apologize while he’s loading you into the car, grimacing when the leather seat gets wet. “Toji, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened—“

“—Save it.”

What he should have said was: “Are you okay?”, “It’s alright.” or better yet, “I still love you.”.

At present, Toji decides on a whim to take you to Yokohama’s famed bayside today. It’s only a two hour drive from your place in Tokyo and Toji figures you must miss going on road trips by now with you cooped up at home all the time. “Toji, are you sure this is a good idea?” you murmured nervously as the car pulls to a stop by the bayside promenade. What happens if you can’t control yourself again? There doesn’t look to be a lot of public restrooms nearby.

Toji plants a reassuring kiss to your nose. “Babe, you remember what the doctor said, spending some time outdoors can do wonders for your health. Besides, didn’t you always love the coast?” He brings your hand to his scarred lips, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin before stepping out of the car to retrieve your wheelchair from the trunk.

“I know but what if I have another accident?” you said worriedly, rolling down the car windows so he could hear you. “What if I embarrass you again?”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about you.”

You’ve lost all control of your lower extremities three months ago, rendering you unable to walk and feel when you need to relieve yourself. Toji struggles with the wheelchair for a bit and a flash of sadness fills your heart when you see him take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He wasn’t angry, he was devastated. He looks wistfully at the boardwalk, a distant gaze trained on the sea. He remembers when you used to walk down this very lane, his hand protectively around your waist as you happily take selfies. He could still hear your fond giggles the last time the two of you went here.

“Why don’t you ever smile when I take pictures of you?”

Toji shoos away a pigeon from stealing a bite of his ice cream sandwich. He feigns an unamused look when you try to take another picture of him on your phone.

“Come on, I’ve been trying to get a shot of you all day! You still have to take pictures of me so I can post it on my Instagram feed!”

Your ever moody husband pinches off a small piece of bread and feeds it to the nosy pigeon. “You and your precious feed,” he bemoans jokingly.

“Please? Just one picture!“ you playfully nudged him. Truthfully, you just wanted to see him smile for once, a genuine one and not one of those lopsided smirks he usually gives you when he’s teasing you. “Please?” you pout knowing he can never say no to that adorable face you make when you really want him to do something or worse, buy something for you.

Sighing, he turns to look at your phone’s camera lens and you blush when a smile slowly illuminates his usually stoic face. Your thumb hovers over the stop recording function, not realizing you’re taking a video, but you can’t seem to press it. “What’s taking so long?” he holds the smile like he’s some cartoon character and you snap out of it.

“Oh shoot, it’s a video!” you laughed, and you begin to run down the boardwalk, eagerly getting away from Toji who demands that you delete it immediately. Of course, you’re no match for his borderline inhuman speed attributed to his athletic physique and he catches you by the waist, playfully swinging you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes.

Now, your giggles have gone silent.

Toji realizes now he should have indulged you more over the course of your relationship and subsequent marriage. Had he known that you won’t even make it to your third wedding anniversary, he would have allowed you to take as many pictures and videos of him as you’d like, he’d swallow his pride and he’d give you the brightest of smiles so you could happily post him on your social media accounts with a heartwarming caption about him being your “smiley hubby”.

More than that though, he should have taken more photos of you, mostly stolen candid shots, of course. You can’t catch him being all soft on you now. He still has a reputation to live up to after all. But more than that, had he known that your illness was intent on stealing every scrap of you from him, he should have made more effort in preserving all these memories. He should have kept everything from those toll tickets on your late night drives together when the two of you just needed a quick escape from the world, to receipts from your trip to Tokyo Disney Sea on your first wedding anniversary, and even simple convenience store receipts.

Toji should have kept everything down to the smallest of memories knowing one day, that’s all he’ll have to remember you by.

He opens the passenger seat’s door and he effortlessly gathers you into his arms, being extra careful with your fragile form as he sits you down on the wheelchair. He opens the backseat and he pulls out two different colored blankets, one sea-foam green and the other, rose pink. “Take your pick,” he smiles at you and you chuckled softly, pointing to the rose pink one. He happily covers your legs with it to keep you warm, stroking your cheek when you whisper a bashful ‘thank you’.

Suddenly, the wind picks up and your hair-clip that’s holding your locks in a low bun comes loose, and your head turns in the direction of where it flew off to. Toji is quick to take out his phone and he snaps a quick burst shot of you, your hair blowing in the wind, under the coastal spring weather. You turn to look at him and your face falls when you see him burying his phone in his pocket. Since you fell ill, you’ve become insecure of your appearance, banning your husband from taking pictures and videos of you altogether. “Toji, I thought I said no pictures.”

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

The next day, you serendipitously find your photo on your Instagram handle with the caption: “Y/N — Yokohama, Spring, 2024” and when you swipe left, another picture, well to be more accurate, a screenshot of the video clip you accidentally took of him captioned: “Toji — Yokohama, Summer, 2022”.

“You don’t have to stick around for me. Please just go, I’m sure Yuko must be looking for you right now.”

Yuko, his new fiancé, had been blowing up his phone the entire day with texts demanding to know where he is and if he’s going to make it to their date that night. It’s 7 PM now, and Toji still hasn’t shown up to confirm their restaurant reservations. The damn witch will surely cuss him out when they see each other again, but for some reason, even if he tries, he simply cannot bring himself to give a flying fuck. Your immunologist and oncologist stepped out for a bit to allow you two a brief moment of privacy which had now stretched to an expanse of five hours since your results came in.

The air in the room is thick and heavy, not a single sound can be heard. Inside however, underneath this tough exterior he was projecting, Toji is throwing a fit, screaming at the sky like those broken men in those shitty Netflix romance tragedies he used to callously make fun of.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You knew, didn’t you?”

Toji’s bites his cheek trying to keep a lid on his emotions. He knows the answer. He just wants to hear you say it out loud. You hated him. You wanted nothing to do with him after he cheated on you with some girl he met at a bar in uptown Shibuya. That’s why you didn’t tell him, he didn’t deserve to know. “Shit,” he whispers harshly, crumpling the medical abstract in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Was it because you hated me? Is that it? You didn’t think I’d worry about you?”

You screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. You didn’t hate him, not even when you have every reason to. He abandoned you, left you to waste away and to die and yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to resent him for the simple reason that he is the literal love of your life, the reason behind your smiles, your happy mornings and passionate midnight hours. “At first, I thought I was fine, maybe just fatigued or something.”

“Don’t lie. You knew something was going on and that something in your body was seriously fucked up.”

“And we weren’t married anymore so, I didn’t think it was right to tell you…I wanted to though, but I didn’t want to intrude on you and Yuko,” you said meekly. Even in your greatest hour of need, you were still thinking of him, putting him first even when he doesn’t deserve it. “I-I…I don’t hate you enough to worry you, to make you feel that you could have done something to prevent this. Because I’m telling you right now, regardless if you were faithful or not, I was bound to get sick anyway. You couldn’t have done anything to change that.”

“But I could have been there. I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have downplayed everything.” He says this as if he wants to shake this noble, self-sacrificing bullshit attitude out of your system. “I’m your husband. I should have been there.”

You flash him a heartbroken smile at his little slip-up, so, even now, he was still referring to himself as your husband, not your ex-husband. “To see me waste away? Babe, I don’t want you to see that.”

You begin to feel tears streaming down your face, the emotions you were experiencing now flowing like a free river after an entire dam is destroyed. Toji watches you unravel before his eyes and his bottom lip begins to tremble. What has he done? Dear god, what has he done to his poor, poor wife?

“I want you to remember me healthy, I want you to remember me as myself not this…sickly pitiful woman you’re unlucky to call your ex-wife…besides, after all this, I’ll only be a dream.” A mere passing second in his life. “And believe me, my life wasn’t so bad.”

He loses it at that.

“Just stop this, Y/N! Stop acting like you’re not scared shitless of dying, like you’re not gonna have regrets once all this is over! Stop pretending that things are gonna be alright one day because it won’t! Not when I’m now being forced to accept that you won’t get better, not when I’ve wasted so much time putting you through hell and back instead of taking care of you like a proper husband should, and certainly not when I’m suddenly supposed to learn to say goodbye and to live without you! Because fuck that, Y/N!”

You are left speechless at that.

Toji was never one to lose his cool, even during your worst arguments, he may slide a few snarky remarks here and there but Toji Fushiguro…never yells, and he doesn’t sob either.

You hesitantly stand up and walk over to him, crouching down in front of him as he covers his tear-stained eyes with his right hand while the other is crumpled around your medical abstract. Taking his left hand, you gently remove the medical abstract from his grip, and for the first time in so many months, you feel one another’s warm skin against each other. You press your forehead to his hand as you wept with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be a dream. I want you to be real.”

“Can’t you be bothered to clean up in here?!”

You wake up from your nap, you’ve been battling muscle and joint pain the entire day, the slightest of movement causing you to double over in agony and because of that, you weren’t able to clean the apartment today. You slowly get up from the couch, being extra cautious not to make any sudden movements. “Well?” Toji presses, his lips curled into a scowl.

“I’m sorry, I was feeling a little tired,” you sighed heavily, picking up a broom to sweep the living room floor despite the excruciating pain you were in. Toji rolls his eyes, handing you a Manila envelope. “What’s this?” you asked softly, peering inside.

“Divorce papers,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Everything stops, even the very rise and fall of your chest halts into an uneasy stasis. “I already signed them. I just need your signature then, I’ll move out by tomorrow.”

You must be dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation to all this. You’re asleep, in a deep REM sleep, utterly oblivious to the world. This wasn’t happening. But you could feel the rough surface of the brown envelope, and you could still feel the agonizing stabs of white hot pain throughout your body. Glancing at Toji, you see him texting someone with an eager look on his face that screams: “I’m free.”.

Instantly, it dawns on you.

“Will she make you happy?” you asked, putting down the broom to look around for a pen but Toji pulls one he stole from the law firm office out of his pocket.

“She will,” he answers simply.

And you are indeed grateful that he is completely upfront about finding another while the two of you are married. It would have hurt much more, you silently remind yourself, if he had just upped and left without another word leaving you to wonder what went wrong between the two of you. This was Toji’s final act of mercy in your marriage, and he’s not opposed to honesty and truthfulness either. Not once did he try to change his phone’s lock-screen passcode, nor did he try to conceal the identity of the woman who was texting him every night while you slept fitfully next to him. It was almost as if he wanted you to find out, like he wanted you to know so you could back off yourself.

But if there’s one thing Toji loves about you, it’s your unending faithfulness to your promises, to your marriage vows, and your willingness to endure anything he threw at you. You never checked his phone, you never brought up his affair, you never got angry with him. You just kept silent, simply content with giving and giving…and giving while he milked you dry by taking, and taking and taking, tearing you to pieces bit by bit without hearing a single complaint fall from your lips.

You were a devoted wife, through and through.

And it bored the hell out of him, on top of your recent mishaps, he was done. Done with everything, and done with you.

“Okay.”

Come morning, he takes everything he owns with him and promptly proposes to the girl he’s been seeing for the past year. Two weeks later, your divorce is received by the Tokyo Family Court and is summarily approved and finalized. From that moment on, you and Toji went on your separate ways never to look back, you were each other’s yesterdays, and the love that existed between the two of you was nullified in favor of acquaintanceship…or so you thought.

“Y/N, I’m home!” Toji calls into the house as he comes back from your neighborhood’s pharmacy. You look up from the book you were reading, smiling ever so slightly at your husband who seemed to have a wonderful sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, kid,” he kisses the top of your head when he reaches your wheelchair.

“You seem happy,” you remarked positively.

“Well, for one, they replenished their stocks today and I managed to get you your steroids and painkillers so you’ll be able to sleep easy tonight,” Toji smiles, taking out the items from the pharmacy’s paper bag. “And I got you this neat memory foam cushion for your wheelchair.” He fluffs it up as a form of demonstration before placing it behind your back.

When he sees you smile, a sense of relief washes over Toji. You reach towards him, and he pulls you into an embrace. “Thank you,” you said, pure sincerity dripping from your voice. “For everything you do.”

“Anything for you.” He suddenly moves back and reaches into the tote bag you lended him. “Oh, and wait, before I forget, I have another surprise.”

You laughed airily. “Another surprise? Now, you’re just spoiling me!”

He pulls out a piece of paper from the tote bag and he places it in your hands as your eyes quickly scan over the document. Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize what it is. Did Toji really—? You couldn’t believe it. “A marriage pre-registration,” you said in awe. You read it again just in case to make sure that this wasn’t a figment of your sick body’s imagination, that this was real, that Toji genuinely wants to make everything right again. Your fingers skim over your typewritten names. “It has our names…we’re really—“ You can’t even finish your sentence without bursting into happy tears. “Are we—?”

Toji nods, gazing into your eyes, and as emerald and (E/C) clash for what seems to be an eternity lost in one another, he plants a kiss to your temple, coming up to embrace you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We are. The Tokyo Family Court, as far as I know, will approve our remarriage once we file this. So, you have to get stronger, okay?” He’s begging you at this point, despite your rapidly deteriorating condition. “Strong enough to see me fix everything. Strong enough to be there on our second wedding, strong enough to say our vows again.”

Your hand comes up to stroke his cheek from behind, and he nuzzles into your neck at your tender touch.

“I will. I promise.”

But you never really get to say your vows. Not comprehensibly anyway.

“Babe, can you say that again?”

Toji crouches by your bedside as you look at him apologetically. You were causing him trouble and pain again which is the last thing that you want to give him especially when’s fought and worked so hard to care for you, to keep prolonging this borrowed time you’re on. “To-ji. Toji.” You gaze at him apprehensibly, not really believing you can do it without crumbling.

“Come on, babe, you can do it. Say my name, please…Toji. I’m Toji.”

“Toooji-“ you slurred sadly. At this point, your Multiple Sclerosis has reached its end stage and has taken…everything from you: your ability to walk, your ability to control your muscle spasms and other bodily functions…and now, coupled with an unexpected stroke, your ability to speak. And you and Toji know that time is almost up, with you having come to accept it, while your husband still held onto hope. Your fingers gently graze over his face as best as your spasms and tremors allow you, starting from his forehead to his eyes, his nose, his cheek and finally, his lips, as if you’re memorizing it one last time. “Lo-ove you-“

Toji sniffles, and your fingers instinctively catch his warm tears. “I love you,” he whispers brokenly. “I do. I love you.”

You feel yourself tearing up as you’re forced to watch your beloved cry. And the worst part? You can’t do a thing about it. “D-oon’t c-cry—‘m okaay. Promi-miise…e’everyything ‘ill be okaaay.”

“Y-yeah,” he chuckles, trying to crack a joke even as hope dwindles. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking champ this entire time, you know? I’m so proud of you. So…so…proud that you’re still here.” He strokes your hair as you tread between the realms of the conscious and the unconscious. “Do you wanna go out today? The weather’s shit though. You’ll probably catch your death out there.” At the mention of the word ‘death’, Toji stops, falling into an uncomfortable silence.

You smile weakly at him. “Tiiredd—“

“You’re no fun,” Toji gently flicks your nose and you scrunch it up in displeasure. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding back an entire waterfall of tears. He knows it’s today. It has to be. You woke up today without your usual ‘happy morning’ greeting, and you refused to drink anything, much less eat anything. “You tired? Any pain?”

You shake your head. You’re as comfortable as you can be for the first time in months. Hospice nurses say humans are built to live the same way they are built to die, no person in this world has ever had the uncanny privilege of being able to look up ‘How to die?’ on a quick Google search and actually find a Wikihow on the morbid subject matter, nor is there anyone else who can teach another how it’s done. It’s just something humans know how to do without a manual, deeply ingrained in the very fabric of human existence is the fear of death, the fear of what comes after, the fear of a nothingness that could follow after living such a vibrant life. Your life was short, barely spanning thirty years, but you lived well: you fell in love, you got hurt, but you fell together again. Now it all has to come to an end, Toji will just have to take care of the rest.

And you weren’t scared.

Or at least you can’t look scared, if you were to be more accurate, you have to look strong and ready to accept the cards you’ve been dealt with for Toji’s sake. When he feels your hand start to slacken, Toji intakes a sharp, shaky breath of sheer panic. “Not yet, Y/N. Please. Not yet.”

He climbs into bed with you, bringing you closer to this desperate man you call yours. There was no getting better anymore, there was no miracle he could hang onto, no deity he could beg for death to spare you, no pill bottle he could pray to. He knew that from the start. But what he witnessed these past months, you’ve been the braver one between the two of you, you knew how to make the most of the rhythm this cruel world gave you and you graciously took him along to dance to the last song of the evening with you.

“There’s still hope. Just keep your eyes open. Just keep them open.” He presses his lips to your forehead, his delusion getting the better of him. “We’ll just keep trying…you can’t leave. You have to stay. You have to.”

“Thaank yoou—“ you softly told your Toji, your voice shrinking in decibels as you become a little drowsy, sinking into the warmth of the requiem of a life well spent.

Toji listens to you, his lips pursed, intent on making this final act of love — a love that is strong enough to say goodbye — a memorable one. And should the afterlife exist, he wishes to send you off with a smile, with the reassurance that he’ll be alright even if that was far from happening.

“Toji.”

“I want you to be real. And I don’t care if we’ll live on borrowed time. Another extra second with you…is enough to last me my entire lifetime.”

[andersonlore]

❝ TATTOO ARTIST!ELLIE ❞ ✶ ELLIE WILLIAMS !

♱

★⠀warning y disclaimers — eighteen+, fem!reader, wlw sex, poc!friendly, switch!reader, switch!ellie, tbh loser!coded ellie, scissoring, ellie being soft and cute and love struck, tattoo artist!ellie, mentions of oral.

RAY RAMBLES ✶ i'm still feeling out writing for ellie, so be nice to me pls, this is the first thing i've posted for her. if not, i won't write for her again jk but seriously dont be mean to me

tattoo artist!ellie who you meet due to her forgetfulness. her black, leathered notebook gets left behind when she meets a friend at a local coffee shop. there’s a business card of a tattoo shop and you decide to take your chances with it and call the number. thankfully, it pans out to be the owner’s notebook. she, ellie, has apparently been tearing apart her apartment trying to find it. her voice floods all over as she whispers thank you just shy of a thousand times, her grateful pleas drip like honey all over you, sweetening you right through your core.

tattoo artist!ellie who is stunned from the first sight of you. the outfit you have on isn’t anything special, out of the ordinary, not it really isn’t but she can’t help the way her eyes wonder over. you have some tattoos which are visible, adding to the draw she feels towards you. soft shoulders are exposed in the strapless top you’re wearing, but your pants are bagging, hanging lowly at your hips, exposing a sliver of your lower stomach to her green, greedy eyes. a new, sultry and velvet, voice speaks her name and ellie knows she’ll do anything and everything to hear it again.

tattoo artist!ellie who gladly walks up to you, accepting the her notebook, desperately attempting not to fixate on the tingle spreading in her heart when she feels your soft finger slightly rub against the tip of her thumb. your sharp, gorgeous eyes look ellie once over before you offer her a smile, blinding ellie to any logical sensibility. do you like her? are you pleased? do you think she’s pretty too? is your heart beating or your fucking chest? are you having trouble breathing like she is?

tattoo artist!ellie who begins to blush profusely as you compliment her tattoos on her exposed bicep with the muscle tank she’s wearing. ellie doesn’t think it’s anything more than you being nice, returning the compliment you gave her, but then you’re touching her. nails painted with black nail polish, shiny but chipped, accentuate the line work. ellie wants to faint. jesse is sitting at the stool on the front counter and lets out a small chirp of a giggle, ellie thinks about punching him in the gut, but it means she would have to walk away from you so she opts out.

tattoo artist!ellie who does something out of the ordinary for her, offers for you to come by next week, saying you’ll tattoo her for a discounted price, something she would never agree to if you weren’t so hot, god if you don’t like her she thinks she’ll puke. but you agree, with your touch still on her slim, but defined bicep. the smirk you’re sporting makes the auburn haired girl nearly faint. evidently, you know just how to pull on her strings. you step in closer to her frame, kissing her sweetly on the cheek and she’s just as soft as you imagined. i’ll definitely take you up on your offer, els. see you next week.

tattoo artist!ellie who is paying close attention as she starts the line work. you came in wanting it down on your back, so ellie focused her attention on preparing the ink when while you situated yourself. by the time ellie had turned around, you were shirtless the side of your breasts exposed as she began. mentally, trying to convince herself she capable of being professional and not thinking about your tits in her mouth. the longer it went on, the more you talked, and the bigger ellie’s crush became.

tattoo artist!ellie who sports a sheepish smile when you start asking her about her life, how she became a tattoo artist, how long she’d be doing it, what were her least favorite designs to do. you ask about twenty question before the one you really want to ask.

“so, no girlfriend?” you wished you could see her, try to gage her reaction, her facial expressions, a smile or a grime? was she looking at you like she wants to eat you alive?

“no, but why not ask me if you have a boyfriend?”

“you’re not the type. am i wrong?”

all ellie does is smirk, shaking her head and clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth obnoxiously, yeah she’s not the type.

tattoo artist!ellie who finished but not without difficulty. you love to talk, usually ellie would find it irritating when she’s trying to focus but on you it’s cute. she asks if you want to see it, and you simply agree. you turn your back to the mirror, your chest fully exposed and ellie looks anywhere but or tries to. she focuses on your angel sent smile and the look of glee as you admit how much you love it to ellie. or els, she tries not be too excited about how happy you are about it.

tattoo artist!ellie who isn’t sure how it happened, how you’re even into her, but she says enough of the right things to get you into her car and back to her apartment. you’re pushing her against the door pressed against her sinfully, peppering playful bites as ellie fishes for her keys. you follow her into her home, her tongue pleading for dominance over hers and she really doesn’t put much of fight.

tattoo artist!ellie who moans as you sit your cunt on top of hers. it’s delicious the way you have her putty in your hand from the initial grind. your clit catching with hers, her strong hands finding your hips, thumb with a bruising pressure, as pause. ellie is going to ask what’s wrong but before she can, you’re spitting on her cunt, a string of saliva, your perfectly wet concoction, halts as it travels down her labia and your sinking slick first, moaning out a soft oh, fuck, els you feel perfect.

tattoo artist!ellie who loves to watching your tits bounce for her as you slowly pick up the pace, the tattoo on your sternum perfectly placed between them only fuels the stickiness between ellie’s thighs. she lets you create the pace, control her to your liking.

“do you like to be, uh oh- fuck, choked?” you ask as feel yourself lost it, the smacking of your slick combined with her spurring you on.

ellie grabs your hand, placing your delicate fingers along her delightful throat, “what do you think, babygirl?”

tattoo artist!ellie who is quite literally getting off on getting choked by you. the light pressure on her neck, combined with you rubbing against her pussy hips falling over her again and against has her clit throbbing. you’re so painfully hot it, claiming her, riding her pussy, whimpering out els els els, make me cum, please baby, i’m right there. yeah? are you there with me, baby?

tattoo artist!ellie who comes right along with you. she swears she sees the creator from above for a moment, flashes of white cloud her vision as you continue to fuck her, pulling every last drop until it’s spilling over your cunt, it’s not until then are you satisfied. you collapse on her, your breasts softly smashed against her own, a whine leaving your lips, hot breath on ellie’s ear nearly makes her buck up back into you.

“c’mon, get this pretty ass up and arched. have to taste this pretty pussy before it kills me not to.” ellie whispers but the two of you know it’s not a request, it’s a command. happily, you obey.

[nichuuu]

Beats Me - 6: Come As You Are

Word count: 8k+

Of course, there’s a chance to turn away from all of this—a chance to stop her hand as it reaches the base of your shaft, a chance to halt her in the midst of tiptoeing to place a peck on your neck; there’s a clear opportunity for you to end what’s happening right here and now—it’s all a matter of how willing you are to go through with this. While your brain screams at you to stop, your body says otherwise; you lift a hand to cup her cheek.

As you tell her, “Just for tonight,” a wisp of a smile appears on her face, and you wonder, What am I doing.

---------

A call from Kim Minju at this hour is never good news. 

To give context: It’s one in the morning on a Saturday. Office workers and the youth above the legal age for drinking are patronising drinking spots, throwing back a couple of beers and basking in the euphoria that alcohol brings them. Perhaps they're using alcohol to cope with the stress of their lives, or maybe they're trying to numb the pain of recent difficult experiences. In both cases, emotions are running high, alcohol is coursing through their systems, memories are resurfacing, and maybe, just maybe, tears are streaming down their cheeks—nothing too out of the ordinary. If you were to receive a call from anyone else at this hour, you would've thought it a request to be escorted back home, or a soused friend dialling in to say incomprehensible things before truncating the call.

But for more context: Kim Minju has been the bearer of bad news since highschool. If you are to combine this with the information above, you know that something has probably gone down, and you’re the only man she can trust to help them. She never calls you on a whim; every call from her is a desperate cry for help. 

As you stare at her caller ID on your phone that vibrates on the table like it’s possessed, you start steeling yourself for what is to come. You’re hesitant to answer, but basic human decency gets the better of you. You can hear the deafening roar of club music in the background when you pick up, and Minju’s yelling into the phone. Even in the quiet of your apartment, you can’t make heads or tails of what she’s trying to convey to you. Even as you holler I can’t hear you at the top of your lungs, she continues to blabber her intelligible words over the pulsing bass of that horrible song that’s playing in the background.

Then it suddenly gets quiet on the other end, and for a moment, you only hear the sound of your heartbeat crunching in your ears. When Minju speaks again, you can hear the wind blowing by in the background, your indication that she’s exited the club. Her voice rings loud and clear in your apartment. 

“Eunbi’s driving to your place, she’ll explain everything,” she’s telling you. “She’ll text when she arrives, get ready to be picked up.”

The urgency in her voice drives you to acquiescence, and you throw on a hoodie and some sweatpants. Couple of minutes later, you’re seated in the front seat of your singer’s car. She’s running you down on the events that have occurred tonight, and the multiple mentions of Chaewon makes your heart sink further and further. 

It was enough dealing with her in the band. That shrill frequency she could produce with that trumpet was often aptly used to deafen you whenever she could (she sat on your direct right so she could be a bitch with ease). The bowl she used to collect her saliva was often “accidentally” (the way she said that word with such bogus innocence really brought you to your boiling point sometimes) spilt on to the leg of your jeans when you walked by, her trumpet case “coincidentally” (again, bogus innocence with this one) be in the way of your shin as you tried to get to your kit. Her behaviour wasn’t the culprit behind your irritance towards her, rather the fact that her behaviour failed to reflect what she had requested for when the two of you schismed—a clean break.

“She’s thrown up twice now.” Eunbi’s tone is a mish-mash of frustration and commiseration, “She refuses to move, and she's been groped twice. We don’t mean to drag you into this, but you’re the last feasible option.”

There’s an odd feeling of nihility in your chest as the two of you come to a stop at a red light. In the band, you dealt with her on a physical level. But when Kim Chaewon and alcohol merge, you know that you’ll have to deal with her on an emotional level, and that somehow fails to engender any spite or frustration of the ilk. The silence that hangs in the car is unsettling in light of the confusing sensations you’re experiencing (and also due to the fact that usually chatty Eunbi is finding it hard to start a conversation in this atmosphere), yet you find that you’re poised. 

“I’m uh… I’m actually your highschool senior,” Eunbi decides to input, “I used to go to the same school as you, Chaewon and Minju…”

You remain reticent. Eunbi takes the cue and returns her eyes to the road. 

The bouncer almost didn’t let you in because of your shabby fit, but a quick wink and a, he’s with me, from Eunbi was enough to get him to let you through. You easily spot Minju amidst club-goers once you get in.  Those long, luscious jet black locks that flow just past her shoulders and those large round eyes that always seem to be doleful quickly catch your attention as you wade through the sea of people together with Eunbi. She looks the same as she did all those years ago. She stands when you approach; Kim Chaewon’s slumped over the table they’re at. 

“Thank god you’re here.” Her expression tells you that she’s been through quite the ordeal tonight. “I… I hope you understand that—”

She stops mid sentence when you hold up a hand. You understand that such a gesture is impertinent of you, but you can’t help it—there’s too much to process, too much to take in, and a club isn’t the best place to assimilate it all (or to find a lover, an ex lover in this case). Minju steps aside, and you take a moment to look at the sorry sight of your ex—face down on the table of the booth seat and an empty shot glass in hand. 

“What do you want me to do?” you ask them. The two girls look at each other, then Minju tells you to do whatever it takes to get her out of here. 

So there you are—contemplating on whether you should dump a bucket of ice on her or gently wake her up. Basic human decency gets the better of you, and you slide onto the couch next to Chaewon, gently tap the bare shoulder that’s exposed in her outfit. When she raises her head off the sticky, glossy table, you’re momentarily reminded of the countless times you’d woken her up in the same way when she fell asleep in the school library.

Then those eyes—half-lidded and swimming in tears—lock onto yours. The volume of her voice pales in comparison to the blaring House remix of the Barbie theme, yet when she calls your name, it’s the only thing you can hear. She shifts closer—close enough to rest her head on your shoulder, close enough for you to smell the vodka on her breath as she silently sobs against you; Don’t go, don’t leave, she slots in between those heart wrenching cries. Right now: emotions are running high, alcohol is coursing through her system, memories are resurfacing, and tears are definitely streaming down their cheeks. 

Eunbi and Minju look on in silence. Eunbi’s lips are pursed, Minju’s eyes are somehow more doleful. Their looks are doing nothing to assuage the turmoil that you’re feeling. You find yourself saying things that you were never prepared to say. 

“She can stay at my place for the night… I doubt she’d want to go anywhere else.”

They look apprehensive, but deep down—they know you’re right.

***

“Uh… Are you sure you want to present this?” 

Chaewon looks up from her presentation script to give a simple, “Hm?”. You were scratching your head as you read over the vivid description of Kurt Cobain's death that she’d included. It detailed the nature of his death, the brutal imagery of small, tiny shotgun pellets blowing a hole through the skull of Nirvana’s frontman on the night of his suicide described in an unnaturally calm tone, as if people shooting themselves through the head with a shotgun was an everday occurance. 

“I mean…” You were doing your best to not sound reprehensive, “I don’t think Miss Kim would appreciate the… Visceral imagery.”

Her look was one of innocence as she asked, why not, and proceeded to further justify her vivid depiction (her argument was that Lee Chaeyeon had presented on Aviccii’s death in equal vividness and your teacher enjoyed it). The theme of the presentations for the week was “the talented die young”, and she’d decided to talk about one of her favourite bands at the time. She was blasting their hit song Smells Like Teen Spirit through the speaker in her room, and you were finding it hard to focus over all that grunge (you didn’t tell her of course, cause that would’ve made her pouty for the rest of the day).

That was one of your fondest memories from dating her. It showed you her tenacity and her stubbornness in insisting that she was correct. It showed you just how determined and strong-willed she could be. You found that you could still recall every detail of that moment as vividly as she described Cobain's death while you watched her walk around your kitchen from the doorway to your room. Her hair is in disarray, the set of clothes that you’d passed her baggy on her slender frame. For the record: She knows how she got here, she knows where she is, she knows you’re awake, and she knows that you’re watching her. In spite of all this, her movements are calm, her hand taking its time to trail across your cabinets as her eyes slowly soak in her surroundings. 

“You know, for someone that said that they wanted a clean break—you’re making things messier than they should be,” you can’t help but tell her. Her hand stops on the handle of your cabinet, her index finger affixing itself there for a minute as she lowers her head. With a sigh, you stuff your hands into your pockets and tell her, “Get out once your hangover wears off.”

You retreat back into your room to get some work done. When you emerge around lunchtime, you find that she’s taken liberties in your kitchen, a piping hot bowl of noodles sitting opposite her at your dining table as she silently slurps on a bowl of her own. You stand there for a moment, then you accost the eating space and stop just before her. 

“Are you being for real?” You can’t help but let the revulsion seep into your words, “You’re telling me that your hangover has lasted this long?”

She’s unwontedly silent. Her pugnacious, bratty nature seems to have dissipated into thin air, replaced by one of taciturn and timidness as she stares blankly into her noodles. She doesn’t look up when you sigh and slide into the other seat, nor does she say anything when you start digging into the noodles that she’s prepared for you (you aren’t one to pass up on a free meal, even if it’s prepared by your ex). 

It’s when you're halfway through your bowl that she finally pipes up, “thank you for taking me in.”

You go still for a moment. 

Then you choose not to reply to her. 

After washing up, you communicate to her that she has till sundown to leave your abode before you head back to your room. You know that she’s going to stay like that stubborn patch of mould beneath the snare drum in the recording studio when you hear her playing Smells Like Teen Spirit on her phone through the door. Once again, that damn song is reminding you of how tenacious and stubborn she can be. Those two traits of hers were really double edged swords for that woman.

Night comes; she still hasn’t left. When you exit your room, you find that she’s asleep on the floor. It seems that she’s found it congenial to sleep on the carpeted surface, even though the futon that you provided her last night is literally an arms length away from her sleeping body. Seeing her that way, you’re momentarily reminded of the times she’d stay over at your place while you were dating, and she’d choose to nap on the floor while you worked—even though the bed was empty. The reasons as to why she chose to do so are still unknown to this day—one of the many unsolved mysteries in your relationship, second only to why she’s being the way she is despite what the two of you have previously agreed on.

To be absolutely clear: the two of you know why you broke up. It wasn’t a case of a one-sided sudden change of heart; there was a reason behind it that you both understood (even though you did need a lot of time to come to terms with it). Yes, it was painful. Yes, it was unexpected. Yes, you did miss her for quite some time. But there wasn’t much you could do about it. She’d set her mind on the breakup, and her stubbornness and tenacity had her on wits end when you tried to talk to her. 

Was there a possibility the two of you could’ve stayed together? Your answer—yes. Her’s—only God knows what goes through that confusing brain.

Once more, basic human decency drives you to do things you don’t want to, and you end up cooking a share of fried rice for her. You lay her bowl next to her on the floor along with a spoon before seating yourself at the dining table to eat. You’re about halfway through a video essay about some game you’ll never play when she stirs from her slumber. 

She spots the bowl, then her gaze wanders to you. Silently, she picks it up and rises to her feet. Now it’s her turn to accost the eating space, except she isn’t belligerent, nor can you sense any hostile intentions.

“Can I sit?” She’s oddly genteel as she points at the chair opposite you. You’ll just end up sitting even if I say no, is your reply. She allows a soft, short chuckle before she slides in. You think about turning off the video essay, but then you decide to not let basic human decency get the better of you this once. 

So with some random guy’s voice filling the air, you and Chaewon partake in your meals in silence. You try not to look at her, but you can’t help but throw a few glances her way as she eats. She decided to grow out her hair over the past few weeks, dye it auburn, and now it drapes elegantly past her shoulders like silky curtains. You can’t read her expression (though you never could to begin with), and you certainly can’t understand why she’s become so quiet. She’s trying to make you lower your guard, soften you up then launch some manipulation tactic is what you’re considering. You won’t put it past her to use a facade of milquetoast nature to try and break past your boundaries. 

“I’ll be out by tomorrow morning,” she suddenly tells you. That was the first time you tore your gaze away from your phone for more than five seconds. How would one normally reply to such a statement? Oh, okay, seems to be one of the better options, yet you choose to go with, “Good, cause I’m not planning to overstay your welcome.”

Chaewon plucks a rice grain off her top lip. “But you’d let Eunbi or Ryujin stay, right?”

There you were, hoping that she’d be as timid and quiet as she’d been for the rest of the day. The nap must have gotten rid of the rest of the hangover, cause you can hear the haughtiness in her voice. 

“Are we really going to have this conversation?” you ask her. The firm look she fixes you with tells you, I’m gonna run my mouth on you whether you like it or not. 

“And here I was thinking you’re being a decent human for once,” you can’t help but mutter. “You’re fucking confusing you know that?”

She bristles in her seat. “You watch your fucking mouth player.”

You’re not one to take offence from such comments. Normally, you’d understand that in the heat of the moment, people can say hurtful things that they don’t mean. It’s natural, completely natural—the adrenaline, the emotions, the tension… All of it can melt together in the form of nasty words that spew forth from a person’s mouth. 

But when it comes from Kim Chaewon’s mouth however… You can’t seem to find that sympathy in you. She knows that you’ve slept with your singer and bassist, she knows that they’ve had you more than once—it’s right for her to feel this type of anger (even though the two of you aren’t even together anymore), yet there’s no part of you—not even a single atom—that wants to take the time to try to understand where she’s coming from and why she feels this way.

“Player?” You don’t mean to sound as pissed as you do. “Player?” you echo again, just for good measure, “What gives you the right to call me that? I’m not the one who couldn’t wait for their partner!”

“It was two years!” Chaewon cries.

“Well you could’ve at least tried.” You’re not even bothering to filter your words now. “You’re a hypocrite for calling me a player when you couldn’t even wait for me.”

“Two fucking years! Do you really expect me to close my heart to love for two whole years just so I can wait for you to get out of the damn military!” The way her tone conveys how right she thinks she is pisses you off, “I’m a human! I need love! Do you really expect me to wait for it for that long?”

She’s on her feet now, hands on your table, breaths heavy. 

She screams, “It’s your fault for signing on so early! It’s your fault for ever thinking that I’d wait!” 

You shoot up from your seat and cry, “Well then damn me for ever trying to believe in you!”

Her face contorts into a snarl. She skirts the table, accosts you with her arm whizzing through the air; she slaps you across the face. As the sting lingers on your cheek, you find your fingers curling into fists. 

“You’re horrible!” She’s hollering at the top of her lungs, “I wish that I never met you!”

For a moment, there’s only the sound of her heavy breathing. Then those eyes—bulging in their sockets and swimming in tears—lock onto yours. She looks just as she did the night the two of you broke up: hair slightly messy, face twisted in a mix of woe and fury, right up in your face as her face starts to flush under the intense assault of emotions and thoughts. She’s close—close enough to grip you by your collar and pull you towards her, crush her lips against yours, kiss you like she did when you were teens. 

And she does just that.

A soft cry slips past her lips, travels into your mouth as she kisses you; It feels exactly the same as it did all those years ago—the meraki, the slight tension in her upper lip, the light quiver in your bottom lip—a familiar comfort you had no idea you missed. Her small waist is captured in your grasp, your face in her hands as she pulls you deeper, kisses you harder. It was like she never left, like she never walked away from you because you had decided to enlist in compulsory military service early so that you could get it over and done with, like she never said, seeing you on the weekends isn't enough for me, I’m sorry. This won’t work out the way you think it will. Let’s just end things off here, nice and clean.

And get this: the whole moment is sweet and all, but deep down, there’s still a small flame of anger alit within you. Even though you kissed her back with equal vigour, you were silently cursing her for making things messier than it had to be; while your hands run through her hair, you find yourself berating her in your head for making you vacillate between missing her and hating her. You aren’t one to be flippant, but Chaewon had the tendency to bring out sides of you that you’ve never seen for yourself. 

Her tongue dives into your mouth, her hand pressed flat against your chest. She’s tugging at the fabric of your shirt, and you’re not sure if she’s trying to pull you closer or signalling for you to take it off. You realise it’s the latter when she guides you hand beneath the fabric of the shirt you gave her, your fingertips grazing the soft skin beneath it. Your palm rests on the flesh of her waist. Her skin was warm to the touch. 

Your mouths part, and you’re quick to ask, What the hell are we doing. She takes a second to catch her breath, then she replies, “I have no clue, but I’m not stopping whatever’s coming next.”

Going with the flow—that was so her. 

You grasp onto the hem of her shirt and gently pull upwards. She’s quick to respond, raising her hands above her head for ease of removal. Then her hands are on your waist band, tugging down at your shorts while your hands skim across her bare skin. She pulls your underwear down together with your shorts, lets them fall and pool around your ankles; her hand is quick to grasp onto your throbbing shaft. 

“Chae.” You can’t help but whisper your pet name for her. She starts placing kisses on your clothed chest, her other hand resting on your shoulder while the hand on your cock begins to stroke it with consideration. She leans in and whispers, “Can we pretend like we never left each other? Just for tonight?”

A foolhardy request. She doesn’t know what she’s doing by asking this of you, nor does she care to consider the possibility that the fulfilment of this request can and will invoke unwelcome emotions in both of you. Of course, there’s a chance to turn away from all of this—a chance to stop her hand as it reaches the base of your shaft, a chance to halt her in the midst of tiptoeing to place a peck on your neck; there’s a clear opportunity for you to end what’s happening right here and now—it’s all a matter of how willing you are to go through with this. While your brain screams at you to stop, your body says otherwise; you lift a hand to cup her cheek.

As you tell her, “Just for tonight,” a wisp of a smile appears on her face, and you wonder, What am I doing.

Her hand on your dick leaves to join and assist the other in undoing her bra. She lets the intimate garment fall to the floor before her, her bare breasts on full display. She’s certainly grown more voluptuous as compared to her eighteen-year-old self, and with that change you find an increase in desire for this woman before you. Chaewon cups her tits with her hands, lifts them up, then lets go; she’s putting on a sordid show. 

“Christ.” Christians certainly wouldn’t approve your usage of the name of their saviour in this abhorrent, impure context. “You’ve… Grown.”

“Puberty works wonders, no?” She’s taken on a playful tone, one that she was always fond of using while the two of you were dating. “Feel them. I know you want to.”

No sane man would ever turn down such an invitation. You can feel her erect peaks poking against your palms as your fingers close around the mounds; your breath hitches when you realise how firm they’ve become. Her hands join yours on her breasts, aiding you and squeezing and kneading while she lets a sigh leave her lips. Then in a whisper, she tells you how much she’s missed this feeling—your hands caressing her just the way she likes, your breath in her ears as you silently play with her like you used to.

Then she asks you, “Do you ever think about me when you fuck those other girls?”

You consider your words carefully. If you’re to be perfectly honest, there were a few times where the sight of Ryujin’s rippling ass cheeks made you think about her; sometimes the way Eunbi moaned reminded you of her. 

But if you’re supposed to pretend like you never left her, some teasing would have to come into play. 

“Depends.” You’re not even trying to hide how smug you are, “In what way are we talking?”

She gives you a look, one that says, you cheeky little fucker, but she plays along of course, offering a soft, Hm, as she pretends to go pensive.

Let’s see—she speaks as she (much to your chagrin) practically rips your hands off her body, all so that she can start circling you—Do their moans sound as cute as mine? Are their bodies as tight as mine? 

She leans in to pop the final question: Do their pussies feel as good as mine?

For the record: No to the first one, a fifty-fifty between yes and no on the second one (they all had amazing bodies). As for the last question, you couldn’t say (not because you didn’t have an answer, but more because ranking them in terms of how good they feel would be doing all of them an injustice).

Dunno, is the answer you offer her, then you follow up with, “Why don’t we find out?”

She smirks and rolls her eyes. “Segueing—impressive.” 

“I’m a laconic man,” you tell her, and, Oh shut the hell up, is her reply as she takes you by the hand and drags you to your room. 

It’s crazy to think that just mere minutes ago, she was on her feet, yelling at you and telling you how odious she finds you; now, she’s on her back, her head propped up against a pillow, still yelling, but she’s telling how good you’re making her feel—Fuck, and, Oh shit is all that’s really leaving her mouth, but the message is implicit—as your tongue applies painfully slow strokes to her soaking pink folds. The hand that slapped you is now scrunching up in your hair, the palm that made your cheek sting pushing your head against her crotch while her toes curl into your mattress. You’re wondering if she’s intentionally pitching up her voice as she moans, or if she’s purposely dragging out her sighs, but it doesn’t take away from the utter sublimity of the act. 

Chaewon’s slick is sweet; it’s tangier than Eunbi’s and tickles your taste buds better than Ryujin’s—you won’t tell her this of course, but it’s not like you’ll have time to communicate all of this while your head being shoved into her pussy. Believe it or not—this is one of the calmer moments of pussy-eating that you’ve experienced, one of the rare occasions where you actually have time to savour the taste of your partner, assimilate the intimacy of it, a far cry from when you were with Eunbi or Ryujin, where the goal was always to make them cum as fast as possible because that’s what they’re craving for. But believe it or not—even though her needy actions make it seem as if she’s desperately chasing her high, Chaewon’s really just trying to make the most of each and every swipe of your tongue, enjoying the way it skirts her clit and laps up her juices that leak out from her pretty, pink folds; all while she’s squeezing her thighs around your ears and begging you, Oh god, put your fingers in me. 

You start with your index finger, using the pad of it to trace the outline of her pussy. Then—just to make sure that she knows that it’s going in too—you let your middle finger join the fray. Your digits graze the skin around her flushed lips, taking their time to cover ground while Chaewon’s reduced to a moaning, mewling mess. What you’re really trying to do here is test the limits of her patience, see how much teasing that small, tight body can really take before her will breaks. It’s a sadistic game you’re playing, but you know that she’s enjoying it as much as you are, even though she is practically screaming at you to stick your digits inside her already.

If there’s anything that this world has taught you, it’s that patience is often rewarding. In this case: Chaewon’s patience was rewarded with the fulfilment of her request. The moan that leaves her half-parted lips is one of satisfaction as you dig your digits into her waiting depths, and they soak in her juices for a minute or two before they start to explore. Her nails dig into your scalp when your fingers dig into the soft flesh on the roof of her pussy. Your name flies out from her lips in a tone of surprise, like she’s taken aback by the fact you remember the exact spot inside her that makes her tick. The smugness on your face says it all, really, and you start to stimulate that spot of sensitive flesh. 

“Oh… Oh my… Oh…” She’s barely able to form the simplest of words. The pleasure you’re providing is racing through her body, filling her from head to toe with perverse need and taking over her bodily functions. You’re not doing anything fancy down there; your fingers are just wiggling against the same spot—a simple action that makes her body react in all sorts of complicated ways: twisting, trembling, twitching… It’s working wonders really. You’re amazed that she’s still as sensitive as ever. 

“Look at you Chae,” you can’t help but deride. “You’re getting so fucking turned by fingers. I don’t remember you being this needy.”

Even if she’s hellbent on retorting, there’s no space for words to leave her mouth—the moans are filling the space in her throat, bottlenecking and filtering out of her mouth in the form of strained cries. From the limited view between her thighs, you make out the image of her biting down on the nail of her index finger. Meanwhile, the nails in your head dig deeper into your scalp, hardly caring for the fact that they may be drawing blood as their owner manages to beg, Keep going. 

Your mouth—now rested enough to continue—rejoins the busy scene; the drawn-out guttural gasp that slides out of her mouth tells you all you need to know—Oh my god. You’re driving me crazy—and you can’t help but smile at the sight of her pleasure stricken face. Chaewon’s barely keeping it together at this point, the dignity that tightly wraps her body is slowly loosening—unravelling at the mercy of your mouth and fingers. The haughtiness, the sheer brattiness—crumbling under the sensations that overwhelm every fibre of her body; now that these perverse thoughts have entered your mind, you find that a dark part of you longs to own her, right here, right now. But of course, patience is rewarding. 

You’re willing to wait.

To say that you’re taking your time to eat her out would be inaccurate. If you’re to be honest, it’s difficult to describe the pace you’re using. Inside of her, your index and middle finger move frenetically, as if you are using them to press the same key on a piano repeatedly to produce the same note—her moans. Outside her, your tongue’s movements are almost sluggish, the broad base of it dragging up her flushed lips before the tip flicks the swollen nub at the top. You’re fully invested, scrupulously ensuring the uniformity of your movements to drive Chaewon to perdition. The movements are neither simple nor complex, rather a middle ground between the two (but you do feel that it leans more towards the former), but it’s enough to drive her crazy. Even if she’s a complicated mess to deal with, deep down—she still enjoys some form of simplicity. 

“Baby.” The way Chaewon’s calling you sends a shiver down your spine, stirring the emotions in your chest and letting some nostalgia bubble up from the depths of it, “I-I’m… I’m…”

Cumming, you complete just as her head violently whips back into the pillow. Then, in arguably the hottest ways possible, Kim Chaewon orgasms. Her thighs clamp around your head, becoming earmuffs as an onslaught of juices assail your mouth. You can hear her mewling past the flesh that surrounds your ears, and the muffled sound is enough to deluge your heart with depraved satisfaction while her body twitches, convulses and strains violently. The last vestiges of dignity that once enveloped her have fallen away, carried off by the sighs and cries escaping from her trembling lips, and as you lift your mouth of her soaking slit and withdraw your juice-slicked fingers, you know that she’s reached a point of no return. 

Patience is truly so rewarding.

“Jesus…” she pants. Once again, believers probably wouldn’t approve of the usage of his name in this context, but something has to cleanse the filth from her body, “When did you get so good at this?”

“Always have been,” you grin. You can tell she wants to roll her eyes, but she hardly has the strength to do so. For a tender moment, you gaze into each other’s eyes and appreciate this moment of inexplicable intimacy, re-living the emotions that were once so present between the two of you. It’s just for tonight. After this, we’ll go back to fighting, you’re telling yourself, and it makes you want to stay like this for a little longer.

But when Chaewon flips herself over onto her belly, the warmth in your chest is shut out and replaced by warped desire. With the tender cheeks of her ass on full display, Chaewon wiggles her behind, inviting you to take your liberties with her body. You take a moment to admire how full they’ve become. 

“Been working on it?” you ask her as you squeeze a handful of flesh. 

“To the best of my ability,” is her reply, followed by, “you like it?”

Your reply is to deliver a soft spank to the right ass-cheek. She barely even yelps upon contact, a small grin on her face as she watches you spread the flesh apart to reveal her entrances. Then she urges you, “Come on now… Pick a hole, fuck it till you fill it with your cum.”

“What if I want both?” You can’t help but be a little cheeky. Chaewon’s bottom lip furls behind her front teeth. 

“I’m not stopping you,” she whispers, “just promise me to cum in me.”

Not a trace of dignity in her words. 

Alright, is what you tell her before your head slips inside of her pussy. You can pinpoint the exact moment where her body almost becomes the only thing to exist in your mind—it’s when those walls clamp down around your shaft, pulsing ever so slightly and still twitching from her orgasm, and it’s enough to make you clench all your muscles while you hilt yourself in her. The sigh you let out hardly synchronises with Chaewon’s gasp. Yet, you find that your thoughts are perfectly in sync as your hands grip onto her small waist, and she props herself up on her elbows and knees. Her hair falls off her back, cascading down her shoulders as she turns her head, catches your gaze to tell you—Own this pussy.

No more words need be said. Eagerly, you begin to pump yourself in and out of Chaewon’s slick, tight pussy, her body tightening around your cock with every thrust in and out, lathering your length with juices that glisten in the low light of your room. The sound of her sighs and gasps quickly rise in volume, a beautiful backdrop to the sounds of your wet shaft penetrating her slick pussy again and again. 

You’ve already lost yourself in her from the moment you stuck your member into her, but you find your grasp on reality somehow slipping further and further with each thrust you make into that amazingly tight body. It’s the nostalgia—that feeling of being able to hold her again, the feeling of being able to fuck her like you did on those nights after you graduated high school, those nights where her parents weren’t home and she wanted you in ever way possible—that’s making you sink deeper and deeper into this new reality that is Kim Chaewon’s body. 

Then her moans start once more; you give in to the carnal emotions that you’ve been doing a really bad job at suppressing, and almost at once, Chaewon becomes the only thing that matters. Her flesh suddenly feels softer than before, her moans and sighs and cries sounding closer and closer to a melody than a haphazard arrangement of notes, and when she rasps for you to fuck her harder, you’re quick to oblige. 

Screw patience, you’re going to take what’s yours right here and now.

Your hands drift up from her waist, grip her shoulders and pull her till her body is almost upright. Your left hand slides down, wraps around her flat tummy; your right follows suit—you’re practically hugging her. Chaewon’s arms reach behind her, lock themselves around your neck and pull her face closer to yours. She doesn’t turn to kiss you—that’d take too much energy, energy that she would rather put into moaning—so you settle on capturing her earlobe between your lips, sucking on it softly while she starts to moan your name. Then, her confessions start. 

I’ve missed this, I’ve missed you… Oh god, I fucking missed the way your cock stretched me out. So good… So fucking good… This pussy was made for your cock.

Those were just some of the many things you managed to make out. The words were hastily assembled, phonics loosely strung together, and then expelled from those beautiful pink lips in a precipitate manner. There were other things like: I love you, I fucking love you and Oh God I love you as well, but your tried not to make to much of it. Even though you’re lost in paradise, lost in her body, your subconscious is still actively fighting to keep her influence out of your head. Things are already messy—both figuratively and literally—as they are, and the last thing you need is to fall in love with memories of Chaewon while you’re fucking her in such a callous, unrelenting manner. Sex and alexithymia towards an ex is never a good combination—yet here you are, rearranging the insides of Kim Chaewon after agreeing to whatever it was you agreed to before you started (it’s not because you chose to forget, but because you truly can’t remember anything past the point where you stepped through the doorway to your bedroom). 

You push away the thoughts (for now), letting them exit your body together with the growl that you release into her ear—Chaewon, why are you so fucking wet?—as your shaft continues to plunge itself between her slick, wet folds. The cheeks of her ass ripple deliciously with each strike of your crotch against hers, eliciting a raunchy exclamation from her body each time she hilts you to the base of your cock. You’re not going particularly fast—Chaewon suddenly has the capacity to reply, I’m always wet for you, baby—but you’re so utterly deep inside her that it’s driving the both of you to perverted elation. The position compromises your speed, but you know for a fact that Chaewon is more than happy to make the trade off, savouring the feel of every inch of you filling her insides at a considerate yet fervent pace. 

“Baby.” Her pet name for you is really doing dangerous things to your feelings, “Harder. Let me feel all of you, just like last time.”

She turns her head to meet your gaze, and it’s only then that you see the tears streaming down her cheeks. Your best guess: just like how nostalgia has its effect on you, it's impacting her too. Her emotions are being dallied with, just as yours are. She’s feeling things that she can’t describe, and she doesn’t know if it’s the rock-hard meat drilling in and out of her that’s making her feel this way, or if it's the fact that she may very well be falling for you again. You may never fully comprehend the intricate workings of human emotions, but as you lean in and gently draw her lips to yours, you hope to help her make sense of her feelings.

Why does she always make things messier than they have to be, your asking yourself, all while her hand finds your left cheek, gripping it tightly as your lips part and she whispers, “Fucking own me. Make this pussy yours, just like you used to.”

Just like last time, just like you used to—two statements that unwittingly conveyed that she’s dabbling in the past in a foolhardy manner. Damn it Chae… Why are you doing this? You’re thinking, even as you’re riotously making her bouncing breasts you handlebars, pinching her stiff peaks with between the gap of your middle and forefinger as you double down on her. You’re wondering, Why do you have to make this so damn complicated, as she leans back into you, and you mark the skin of her neck with your lips. Why couldn’t you just wait for me? Things wouldn’t have to be this way if you just had some damn patience, you’re pondering, all while she starts to throw herself back onto your cock. It’s hard to tell if she truly understands the emotional state she’s put herself in, you tell yourself. The irony of this statement is not lost on you, and you’re inwardly chortling at yourself as you pull yourself out of your own head.

You return to reality, and you find that Chaewon’s cumming once more. Did she announce its arrival? You don’t know. All you know is that her pussy is tightening rapidly around you, her body is shivering and shuddering against you, and her knees start giving out on her. You steady her against your chest, slowing yourself to a halt as you realise how dangerously close to the edge you are. 

When she taps you on the knee, you take it as a sign to gently lay her back down on the bed. With her belly flat against the mattress, Kim Chaewon reaches behind her and spreads her asscheeks with her fingers. She gives you the slightest of nods; you pull out of her freshly fucked pussy, point the head of your cock at the opening of her ass, and begin to press forward.

Chaewon gasps as your head presses against her tight opening, her body refusing to let you in at first—but you press forward with your hips, slowly parting her entrance. Chaewon squirms and quivers as her opening slowly parts, and soon you are finally inside her. Her hands tighten into fists, scrunching up your bed sheets; a grimace of pain overtakes her partially turned head as you penetrate her ass for the first time. She lets a long hiss escape her lips, and you lean down to kiss the back of her head in an attempt to comfort her, bringing your left hand to match hers on the bed, covering her small hand with your own.

Soon you are halfway inside her ass, and you go no further, letting her get used to the new penetration. When you stop moving, Chaewon lets out a long breath that she didn’t know she was holding.

“You okay?” You’re checking on her out of genuine concern. It’s basic human decency, you’re trying to tell yourself, but you have a sinking feeling that she’s unknowingly broken past your defences. 

“Fuck,” she spits, “fuck you’re so big inside me.”

“Do you want to—”

“Fuck no,” she snaps, “fuck, please don’t stop. I want this. I want you. I want you in my ass.”

The soft sigh you let out makes the hair atop her head flail a little as she wipes the tears from her cheeks. She isn’t crying anymore, but she certainly seems a little embarrassed that she let her emotions get the better of her. 

“Keep going.” She can’t seem to raise her head as she speaks, “Fill me, please…”

Basic human decency drives you to compliance, and so you press forward—all the while, your eyes are affixed to the back of her head, your left hand still grasping hers while she shifts around slightly, adjusting herself to take you in better. The small yelps she occasionally lets slip tells you that she’s in discomfort, but not enough to make you stop entering her asshole. It’s too late to turn back now anyway.

It felt like years, but soon you're fully inside her, buried to the hilt inside Chaewon’s ass.

You slowly draw your shaft outside of Chaewon’s tightly gripping ass for the first time, and once it is halfway out, you slowly push back inside her. She's a quivering and squirming mess, and soon you are slowly pumping in and out of her body, your pace relaxed as you enjoy the tight, hot flesh of Chaewon’s body wrapped around your cock. You’re glad that the sheer sublimity of the sensation is removing your ability to think, allowing you to steep yourself in the moment with a turmoil free mind.

Chaewon’s tightness is overwhelming to say the least. Her pussy was tight, but her ass on another level altogether. Not as wet, of course, but almost overwhelmingly tight and hot, grasping you tightly with each entrance and exit like a glove. This would be the first time you’re entering her like this, and you aren’t sure if you’re doing it right, but soon she’s taking you in and out of her ass smoothly, the pain and discomfort of your initial penetration quickly lessening and giving way to the novel, new sensation of pleasure from having her ass filled.

Chaewon lets a short, sharp gasp escape her lips when you fill her to the hilt—one that takes her by surprise given the slight look of shock that you make out on her features. You reach down with your right hand, gingerly grip her chin and tilt her face up so you can get a better look at her face. Her eyes are glazed over now with pleasure, locking to yours as you start pumping in and out of her asshole. After a while her gasps lessen and then end completely as she becomes used to the hard length pumping in and out of her butt. She reaches up with her right hand to hold yours, and she pulls it down her chin until it’s at her throat. You didn’t know she was into choking, and she had never made you do it before. Then again, you’ve never had her ass before either—there’s a first for everything.

You feel her warm neck pulsing beneath your palm. She squeezes the outside of your hand slightly, causing you to clamp a little bit around her slim neck. The slightly reduced airflow at her throat causes her ass to clench even tighter around you: succulent pleasure to your mind that makes you think you are going insane. The novelty of fucking Chaewon’s ass, your hand around her throat, the carnality, the surprising tenderness of the moment–it’s all so damn overwhelming.

“C-Chae,” you call out to her. Her gaze flickers from the wall to your eyes, and you whisper, “Do you… Do you really want me to—”

“Just fucking do it!” Chaewon gasps, barely attempting to filter the want out of her voice, “Choke me! Cum in me!”

With her permission, you were more than willing to let yourself fall over the edge at this point.

Chaewon’s hand—the one that stops your hand at her throat—tightens, as though willing you to increase your grip on her windpipe. You are still afraid of hurting her—you already feel guilty for causing her pain and discomfort (physically and emotionally). But her hand on top of yours, clasped around her throat, dismissed any worry you may have had about taking things too far. Your orgasm beckons, and the hand around Chaewon’s pale throat tightens involuntarily with each thrust in her hot, tight hole.

Do it… own me—her voice is straining—Make yours again. Choke me while you fuck my ass… Use me! Fill me… Fill my ass with your cum!

With a few final, short, hard thrusts into Chaewon’s ass, you bury yourself as deep inside her as you can before finally letting go. Thick, hot cum spurts from your shaft into Chaewon’s willing depths, her hot, tight ass squeezing and pulsing around your cock as if milking every last drop from you. As you cum, your hand around her throat involuntarily tightens, and the moan that escapes Chaewon’s throat turns into a gasp—the dark part of you takes obscene pleasure in that fact.

Both of your bodies quiver and shake as the intense pleasure of your orgasm overwhelms your senses. It seems to last forever—longer than any other orgasm you’ve had. Nothing else exists for those long seconds, aside from Chaewon’s shaking body beneath you and the hot mess you’ve made inside her.

Your cock pulses a few final times as your orgasm slowly subsides and releases the last spurts of cum into Chaewon’s body and you regretfully come down from your high. After a few more seconds of treasuring the feel of the hot, creamy mess you’ve left inside her, you slowly draw your half-soft cock out of her body. Within seconds, white, pearly semen begins to leak out of her and onto the reddened, sore cheeks of her ass. Your eyes remain glued to Chaewon’s still-quivering form as she tries and mostly fails to collect herself. Slowly, she turns on her side, her whole body heaving like she’s completed a marathon. Her inner thighs glisten, your juices and hers flow down her naked skin. It's now that you remember what you agreed to before you started: Just for tonight…

“Hey…” Her voice has a lilt as she beckons you to her side. “Cuddle with me… Just for tonight.”

There she goes again.

Yeah, right... you sigh inwardly. The way she's looking at you tells you that the feelings brought forth tonight will persist as long as she permits. Maybe, just maybe, you should have turned her down, made her come as she was, and kept her at a distance; but she’s already snuggled up in your arms by the time you finish this train of thought. She kisses you on your jaw, then on your neck, then utters a soft good night baby before nuzzling herself into the crook of your neck.

Physically and emotionally, you've made a mess of her. And, in turn, she's made a mess of you too—physically and emotionally.

But you choose to forget that, just for tonight.

***

She slips out of your apartment at God knows what time, leaving like a thief in the night and leaving a note in her wake: I took one of your shirts. Will return it if I feel like it. 

Then below the message: P.S. Forget that last night happened. Go continue being a player. 

“I… Can’t believe this bitch.” You’re leaning against the door—the place where she’d stuck on the note—as you finish reading it. You decide to crumple it and toss it away—it’s the easiest thing to forget about her anyway. 

To be clear: You had no clue what your opinion on Chaewon was anymore, nor did you know what your status with her was (though the note suggests that she’s going to return to her usual bratty behaviour). Sometimes, you wish that there could be a bright digital sign perpetually hanging above her head, providing interpretations to her erratic behaviour. 

Yea… That would be great.

Just as you throw out her bowl of fried rice, there comes a knock on your door. You’re surprised to find Hwang Yeji standing there by herself. 

“O-Oh… Yeji,” you mutter. 

“That has to be the most asinine statement I’ve ever heard,” she derides. You purse your lips and scratch the back of your head, then you ask, “Do you uh… Need to borrow something?”

Yeji sighs and shakes her head. She’s quick to get to the point, “Are you free this afternoon?”

You nod, then she tells you, “I need you to follow me somewhere today. Meet me in the lobby at 3pm.”

She’s about to leave you with that vague request, but you’re quick to ask what this is about. It’s unwonted of her to suddenly request to meet you, and you’re painfully aware (or at least you thought you were) that she knows that this is unprecedented of her. Laconic and biting as ever, she turns back to you and tells you: I need you to help me talk to someone.

“W-Who?” You’re quick to ask. She turns her back to you as she answers.

“My junior. She wants to be our saxophonist.”

_________________________

What is popping gang. I did not get a chance to look through this thoroughly, nor was I able to get anyone to beta read for me :p. Hope you didn't have your bars raised to high for this.

~Nichuuu

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ 5 more minutes ] l. hughes

paring : Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary : Luke’s girlfriend surprises him in Newark after his last college hockey game

warning(s) : none really. just very fluffy and emotional. also very short bc it was 1 am when i came up w this idea

author’s note : in honor of today being my last day as an ncaa student athlete, i quickly wrote this up. i was feeling very emotional and i needed a way to express how i felt. hence why we now have a very fluffy / emotional fic. some of the comments luke makes are some of my thoughts about how my own season ended yesterday. it’s kinda sad but it had to be done. you’re welcome (i think ?)

༺═──────────────═༻

Jack texts her when he has picked up his younger brother from the airport. She begins to pace around the living room of Jack’s apartment that he’s now going to be sharing with Luke.

She has no clue what state Luke is going to be in when he walks through the door. He’s probably going to be so pissed that he spent the last two minutes or so of his college career in the penalty box instead of on the ice or on the bench with his teammates. He’s been so busy traveling that he hasn’t had time to sit and reflect on the season.

That’s the reason that she hopped on a flight to Newark as soon as the clock hit zero against Quinnipac. She just wanted to make sure that he’s okay before he goes and signs his NHL contract in two days and joins Jack on the Devils.

Either he’s going to be really upset and pissed or he’s going to be excited to start the next chapter in his career. She has no idea which version of Luke she’s going to get.

Keys jingle in the door about a half hour after Jack texts her to let her know he has Luke. She stops pacing and stands in the middle of the living room. Her eyes are on the door as Jack pushes it open.

“… not really in the mood for any surprises,” Luke says as he walks through the door. “I’m so tired.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” Jack tells his brother as he shuts the door behind them. Luke drops the big duffel bag that contains his hockey gear on the floor by the door in the foyer area. Then he finally makes his way to the living room with his suitcase.

He freezes mid-step when he sees his girlfriend.

With a small wave and a smile, she says, “Hi, Lukey.”

Luke crosses the room in five strides because of his stupidly long legs. He envelops her in a hug and buries his face in her neck. She wraps her arms around his torso and they stand like that for what feels like an eternity.

She doesn’t mind. If it means that Luke’s okay then she’ll stand like this forever.

She presses soft kisses into his shoulder and whispers to him, “I’m so proud of you, Luke. So incredibly proud of you. I know that’s not how you wanted the season to end but you did everything you could, and for that I am so, so proud of you.”

A quiet sob wracks Luke’s body as he pulls back from the hug. She sees tears in his eyes and frowns. A couple roll down his cheek and she reaches up to wipe them away. Jack silently sneaks out of the apartment. He thinks he’s slick but she saw him leave behind Luke.

“I hated that I wasnt out there those last two minutes,” he tells her, voice shaky. “Maybe I could’ve done something that pushed the game into overtime or won it for us. Instead I was in the penalty box while my team had to fight even harder to get goals because they were down a man.”

“I know, baby,” she softly replies. “I wish I could’ve given you guys five more minutes. You all fought so hard. So fucking hard. I’m so sorry that’s how your season ended.”

More tears roll down Luke’s cheeks and she continues to wipe them away.

“I feel like I let them down,” he whispers. “I could’ve fought harder for them. For this season. I let them down when they needed me most and now I’m abandoning them.” His words break her heart.

She shakes her head and cups his jaw. “You didn’t let anyone down,” she tells him. “You did what you could in the sixty minutes you had. They know that and they will always remember how hard you fought for them. You’re so important to everyone on that team and you played such an important role in getting as far as you did as a team. They’re just as proud of you as I am because you are about to start an amazing new chapter in your hockey career. You aren’t abandoning them, Luke. They want you to move forward in your career. They understand that you’re ready and that this is what you want.”

Luke nods and wraps his hands around her wrists. She continues to look up at her boyfriend.

She’ll never understand how he feels because she isn’t an athlete. All she can do now is try to help him realize that he isn’t the worst teammate that he thinks he is at the moment. She doesn’t want him to have that mindset as he transitions from college to the NHL.

Losing is tough in any sport. She knows that much and she is going to make sure that Luke understands that it is okay to feel this way but that he also has to get ready to move forward.

“Thank you for being here,” he says after a moment of comfortable silence. “Sorry I’m such a mess. I didn’t think it would affect me this much.”

“It just shows how much you love every team that you’re on,” she replies. “You dedicate so much time to hockey because you love it. You’re allowed to feel this way and feel it for a little bit. You do have a contract to sign in a few days so I’m giving you tonight to get out everything you feel about the Michigan season ended. Tomorrow, it’s time to get excited. I’m here to help you get excited.”

A smile finally cracks through the frown that’s been plastered on Luke’s face since he saw her. She dries his cheeks one more time before she pulls him back into a hug.

Luke presses a soft kiss to the top of her head. “I love you,” he says into her hair. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up. Yes you do,” she retorts. “I love you too. Let’s go get you unpacked then we can take a nap because I heard you tell Jack how tired you are.”

When she pulls away from the hug and starts to walk to his suitcase, Luke grabs her hand and pulls her back to him. She looks up at him for a quick second before his lips are on hers. The kiss surprises her because of how emotional he is, but sometimes a kiss is all it takes to feel better.

She happily smiles into the kiss and runs her fingers through his curls as she returns it. It’s one of his favorite things she does so many he’ll start to feel better a little faster. Luke loves feelings her fingers in his curls. It’s the reason he doesn’t try to tame them.

The front door opens again and a voice says, “Okay, we are establishing some rules. Rule one, the door stays open three inches when your girlfriend is over. I don’t need any babies crying in my apartment at three in the morning right now.”

They both pull back and she looks behind Luke at Jack, who has a disgusted look on his face. She smiles but Luke’s cheeks turn a tomato red. She laughs and shakes her head.

“Rule two,” Jack continues. “No making out anywhere I can see you. That means the-”

“Jack!” Luke snaps. “I get it. We get it. Also, I’m not going to be leaving my door open three inches. If I want to have sex with my girlfriend then I’m going to. It’s my room and we split the rent now so I’ll do what I want.”

“None of that premarital kissing stuff where I can see or hear it,” Jack tells his brother. “I don’t need that in my life.”

She laughs and takes the opportunity to grab Luke’s bag and suitcase. “Don’t worry,” she says. “We won’t traumatize you. Again.”

Both Luke and his girlfriend laugh as they make their way to Luke’s new room, leaving a disgusted and definitely traumatized Jack Hughes in the living room.

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

have a request ? check out the guidelines !

wanna be added to the taglist ? fill out this form !

taglist : @dasiysthings @axaslee @ithinkimokeei @dancerbailey3 @mangoluver @prettyinsatiable @ivy-34 @love4lando

[mvltisstuff]

going, going, gone pt. 2 - c.f

summary: y/n leaves to do what susannah always wanted for her boys.

conrad fisher x conklin!reader

a/n: gif is not mine, but i was so so happy to see how much everyone loved part one!! i’ve never had to tag people, but i will try and do that at the end of the story <3 this is also not following the books, that i haven’t read because i’m the worst reader 😭

y/n stood on the opposite side of susannah’s bed, visiting her in boston after she was waiting to see her girls. her connection to laurels daughters was always something susannah felt from the moment they were born. she always wanted girls of her own, but she was still blessed with her two sons.

belly was sitting on the bed, a bright blue dress as susannah looked into her eyes. laurel had gone out to run errands for her friend, so the girls had stayed with susannah.

it was clear that her condition was declining, and rapidly. her face didn’t have the usual sunshine look, and she appeared weaker than y/n and belly were ever used to. her skinny hands trailed to theirs and wrapped together. her touch went from a warm comfort to as light as a feather. somehow, through the cloudy day, the sun poked through and her angelic smile blessed the girls.

“i’ve been missing you so much,” susannah grinned, placing a hand on belly’s thigh and grabbing y/n’s hand with the other. “i’m so glad you came to see me. i needed to see you girls.”

the look on belly’s face was almost coated with uncomfortableness, her naïve self not used to seeing people in this condition. y/n didn’t want susannah to see her fall apart in her grasp, so she made herself blend with tranquility.

the time had passed where they wanted to attempt to save susannah. now, they knew it was only a matter of time until they lost her. they may not have physically lost susannah, but they lost the spark in her a long time ago.

“the boys love you, you know,” she tells belly, and then turning her head to y/n. “both of you.”

“i know,” y/n replies, seeing belly trying to find the right words.

“promise me something?” she asks, looking at belly who’s head perks up. “look after them for me.”

“you’re going to do that yourself,” belly remarks barely over a whisper, moments away from letting the dam break. y/n’s cried enough tears for susannah, but somehow they don’t seem to stop. watching her whole family experience this grief makes her feel less alone, but seeing her baby sister fall apart is near unbearable.

she watched as belly crumpled on the bed into susannah’s arms, and her once warm grasp felt lighter than ever.

ever since her death, y/n wants to look at belly the same. her actions make it so hard. she promised susannah to take care of her boys, and she failed. she let jeremiah sit around knowing he wasn’t the one she truly wanted. afterwards, she made conrad watch in heartbreak her new self with jeremiah.

that scares y/n, knowing that she’ll never truly be able to pick between them. in the long run, no matter who she “picks”, she’s hurting more people than she thinks.

she figures the best thing she can do is be there for conrad, as belly and jeremiah don’t think it’s necessary.

as she drove further and further away, the music she normally sings to turned into static. conrad would probably still be in cousins, not wanting to face his family back in boston. the traffic had quieted down, for people would be home with their families.

she pulled up the the house that had gotten it’s life back before julia took it all away. conrad and y/n were the main ones trying to save the house from being invaded by another family. even if they couldn’t, the cousins house would always have the fisher’s name on it. when y/n walked up to the front door, she slowly turned the doorknob and stepped in.

her footsteps lightly echoed due to the emptiness of the house, some of the front rooms still looking lifeless. y/n walked around, picturing everything exactly how susannah had it, all the portraits and loving decor she had around. she knew, though, that’s how conrad will set everything up.

the sun was just starting to dip down below the horizon, and when she spotted conrad sitting with his feet dipped in the pool, he looked lower than the sun ever could get.

she quietly stepped out onto the back, not saying a word until he noticed her. his head slowly tilted around, feeling her sweet eyes burning through him. he felt more relieved. she’s the only person he wants to see. she’s the one person who hasn’t ripped his heart out and used it.

“what are you doing back?” he questions, keeping his collected expression.

“i didn’t think you really wanted to be alone. you can’t fool me, conrad,” she smirks softly, moving over to sit next to him on the edge of the pool. she dips her feet into the cool water, not yet graced by the hot summer air.

“i don’t need you to be here for me, i don’t think i’m too good of company right now.”

“i think that’s exactly why you need me,” y/n says as conrad looks back to her. he’s always noticed y/n’s beauty on the outside, but he never got to really appreciate the inside. her mind was just as beautiful as her hair when the wind blows it, or the dimples on her cheeks when she’s happy. “you don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

“yeah,” he sighs, swaying his feet in the pool. “i thought jere would at least help me.”

“i talked to belly,” y/n tells him, seeing him quickly freeze and lean his head back.

“it’s not a big deal, y/n, really,” conrad says.

“it is to me. i never thought of her like this, but i don’t understand how she could do that to you.”

“it’s a me problem, clearly jeremiah’s better than i am.”

“that’s not true. belly’s young and thinks she’s innocent. she doesn’t deserve someone like you. she’ll never take the time to know you, but she’s going to jeremiah because he’s ‘easier’.” y/n replies. “you’re perfectly fine the way you are, and you never have to change for her, or me.”

“my mom always saw me with belly. i think that’s the worst part.”

“but your mom didn’t see what belly’s done to you. susannah would never want you to change in order to be with her.” y/n says, clearly to him. “susannah asked belly to be there, and she failed.”

“what do you mean?”

“when belly and i went to visit, she asked us to take care of you and jeremiah. belly barely looked after you, and i don’t even know if she’s helping jeremiah.”

“i get it, though. i left her at prom, and broke her heart.”

“was it shitty of you? yes, i’m not gonna lie to you. at this point, she’s taking it too far by playing with you and now it’s jeremiah’s turn.”

“maybe my mom was wrong,” he looks away, connecting his eyes back with the minute waves in the water. “i miss her. she was like a breath of fresh air, and i feel like i haven’t gotten that since she died.”

“she’s still here,” y/n tells him, seeing the corner of his mouth turn up a bit.

“i still feel her sometimes. if i’m home and i hear a noise, i’ll think she’s cooking, or painting. i don’t need people to see me fall apart.”

“you never have to hide, conrad. not anymore, and not from me.”

the next time he locks eyes with y/n, he can majorly see the sincerity in her face. there’s still a hint of when they were young in their eyes, memories swimming back into conrad’s head. every time she talked to him, all the time she spent with him. every party she skipped because conrad didn’t feel up to it, and she didn’t want him to be alone. he never felt nervous around y/n the way he did with her sister. they always had a complex relationship, but never once did y/n fail to be next to him. conrad let his inch closer to y/n’s, letting her hand lay on top of his, leaving solace in him. he never noticed how soft her hands were, literally and figuratively. she never once used him and glued his pieces back together. it’s then that he realizes that’s something belly never did.

impulsively, he moves his body more toward y/n, trying to get all the gladdening she can give. she’s more than happy to give it to him, letting conrad hold onto her and have her help him. the world around the boy became lighter, almost forgetting about his former despondency caused by belly. the closer he got to y/n, the more he thought that his mother had mistaken belly for the one.

he brushes a stand of y/n’s hair behind her ear, placing his hand on the side of her neck. she breathes lightly, knowing what conrad wants from her, but not knowing if he needs it.

“conrad,” she whispers, his name coming across incredibly from her lips. “you know i love you.”

“of course,” he says back, his hand trailing down her arm.

“but i won’t be a redemption because you cannot have belly. i’ve been the second choice once and i destroyed myself. i won’t do it again.”

“belly’s not who i want. i don’t think i’ve ever loved belly the way i have for you.” it all felt so sudden, the tension growing thicker between them as conrad only wanted to deepen the connection. y/n was just so horrified of hurting him more. she knows that she could help him and love him how he should, but she needs to know that he’s not just trying to get belly back.

“i think we need time, conrad. please?” she asks, and he nods, slipping his hand back down and grabbing her hand. “but trust me when i say that’s it’s not over with us.”

the meaning behind her words is stronger. in reality, she just wants to dive into conrad and accept anything he has to give, but he needs to strengthen his own heart first. he needs to know what he wants. if y/n needs time, he will wait for her.

tags: @historygeekqueen @am-i-shit-or-am-i-the-shit @celesteblack08 @parkerdayaa @shelby-x

[inuyashaluver]

can you please do one where less and reader is dating but some rumour came out ( like reader is cheating) or something because reader is seen with someone else quite a lot and they just have a argument but it turns out that reader is just planning to propose to less? Ur fics are the BESTTT

i can’t believe you - alessia russo

alessia russo x reader

description: in which your special surprise for your girlfriend gets spoilt by cheating rumours

warnings: angsty, mentions of cheating, multiple tears shed, miscommunication but happy happy ending

a/n: ahhh! this was so 🤍, thank you so much for the love, baby!!, i hope you enjoyyy ❤️ no joke, i teared up while writing this because i felt bad

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, alessia knew each other better than you knew yourselves. you knew each other majority of your lives when you played for the same youth clubs.

you followed each other everywhere. whatever alessia did, you did, whatever you did, alessia did. it was simple.

you were two peas in a pod and that’s how you liked it, after your years of friendship, you both began dating when you studied in north carolina. she loved to tease you that you only made a move because she wore the captain’s armband, you would not confirm nor deny.

—

when you both came back from college and signed with manchester united, people saw the true alessia and (y/n) that were obsessed with each other.

it was a random day when you both went to training, hand in hand with cheesy smiles as you enter the change room that had numerous groans of teasing echoing in the room.

you both find it really hard to be apart from each other but alessia genuinely thought the world would end if you weren’t holding her hand. your cubbies are directly next to each other but she drags you to squeeze in hers.

if you get up to move, she’ll pout at you until you kiss her to make her feel better. you know her little tricks but you’re not complaining.

you stand up from her cubby after lacing your boots, squeezing her thigh before you get up, “where are you going?” she protests immediately, rushing to grab your hand to stop your movements.

“to the bathroom, baby, i’ll be two seconds” you giggle affectionately, kissing the crown of her head before making your way to the bathroom. her eyes watch you intently as you walk out of the room before ella plops down next to her and puts her in a choke hold.

“can’t survive without your little girlfriend, huh, less?” she teases, alessia grumbles and pushes her off, “fuck off, yes i can” she scoffs with a roll of her eyes. ella’s smirk turns into bright laughter when alessia’s face visibly brightens when you come back.

alessia glares at her until you come to stand in between her legs. she immediately wraps her arms around the back of your thighs while her head rests on her stomach. you smile as she leans into you as you play with the ends of her ponytail.

“why is my girlfriend pissed, tooney wooney?” you tease, giggling when alessia pulls you closer, almost making you fall on top of her.

“i just said she couldn’t live without you” she shrugs, alessia rests her chin on your stomach to look up at you. “baby, tell her i can!” she pouts, you smile amusingly at her and nod with a coo, “you can, lessi” she smiles satisfied and buries her face into your jersey, missing how you winked at ella.

you don’t blame your girlfriend though, you’re always together, it was the normal for both of you. ella masks her laugh and winks back at you before moving off so you could sit in your regular spot next to your girlfriend.

she immediately kicks her legs into your lap, you pull her closer while you smile sweetly at her. she puckers her lips at you and you close the gap without any second thought, kissing her gently a couple of times before pulling away and hyping her up for training.

“come on, star girl, training!” you tap her legs and she groans, shaking her head. “no, babe” she challenges, you smile at her, “hm, yes, babe” you tease her with a grin. she narrows her eyes at you for a second and rolls them when you cock your head at her.

“fine” she huffs, placing two hands on your hips to pull you into another kiss, one of her hands moves to the back of your head to deepen it and you have to push her away with quite a lot of strength to separate. “lessi” you warn, she squeezes your hips in response, you lean closer to her so her lips ghost yours, “training” you whisper, pecking them quickly and leaving her a flustered mess.

you pair up for training and giggle with each other, your bright smiles contagious for everyone on the team.

—

when you and alessia moved to arsenal, things couldn’t have been better. you both fit in like you’d been there all along. you and alessia moved to a new house and everything was just perfect. you two were extremely happy, so happy that you had a special plan up your sleeve.

it was extremely hard to keep it a secret but you were finally ready to propose to alessia. you’d bought the ring years ago, literally when you came back from college but the times didn’t feel right.

but everything recently had just been falling into place, you just needed the perfect plan, and who else would you employ other than leah williamson to help you out?

you and alessia were extremely close with leah, having known each other for years. you wanted to ask lotte but you and her collectively agreed that alessia would catch on quickly.

and so you started the planning with leah.

—

“baby, i’m just going to leah’s to help her with something around the house” you rush out after you both get home from training. she looks up at you confusingly as she sits on the couch, you always cuddle and watch something when you got home.

“what does she need help with?” alessia questions, watching you scramble to get things together. “just a flat pack or something, baby” you say randomly, her eyebrows furrow but she chooses not to question it. “oh okay” she says quite sadly and you feel bad, instantly.

“i’ll be back soon, love, i’ll get takeout for dinner and we can cuddle when i get back” you suggest, smiling when your girlfriend’s expression softens. “okay” she smiles, nodding at you, you lean down from the back of the couch and kiss her gently, pulling away with multiple pecks to her cheek making her giggle and squirm.

“i love you” you whisper in her ear, “i love you too” she whispers back, you grin at her again and kiss her quickly once more before rushing out the door.

—

over the span of two weeks, alessia was left at home for most of them. she trusted you with every bone in her body but things were popping up in the media that she couldn't help but look at them. pictures were popping up of you and leah in town, shopping, hanging out and people were questioning your loyalty.

alessia knew you wouldn’t cheat on her, she knew how much you love her but she’s only human, maybe the photos didn’t look friendly, you were hanging out with leah a lot, you were leaving her at home to be with leah. thoughts were lingering and she couldn’t help it.

—

the reality was that you and leah were perfecting the little details for your proposal. the plan was simple: you would take out alessia to dinner at her favourite restaurant, getting her flowers and chocolate.

after that, you would take her to the beach where you have an elaborate set up waiting for her. a large heart made out of rose petals with candles lighting up the sand. a photographer would be hiding and you would propose.

then, you’d take her back home, all your nearest and dearests waiting for the two of you. photos would be plastered of the two of you all over the place, it was alessia dream proposal, you knew she would love it.

—

you’d come back one night after being at leah’s all day basically, you were proposing tomorrow. alessia went to get dinner with lotte, which ended up being cut short by the blonde crying in lotte’s arms asking why you didn’t want her anymore. (you didn’t know this)

“baby?” you sing out excitedly, your eyebrows furrow at the human golden retriever not bounding over to you like she always does. you rush and get your jacket and shoes off, moving closer into the house to try and find your special girl.

it was when you entered the dimly lit living room that you heard the soft sniffles coming from a bundle of blankets that you felt your heart shatter into pieces.

“lessi?” you ask softly, moving the blanket off her to see her tear stained cheeks and red nose.

she cries more when she sees you, “don’t, ‘lessi’ me, i can’t believe you” she cries, harshly wiping the tears off her cheeks. you sit down next to her instantly, “hey, what’s wrong?” you place a hand on her thigh and she tenses, you pull back instantly with a pained expression.

“you” she sobs, her body is wracking with tears and you don’t know what to do. “baby, what did i do? talk to me” you plead, your own eyes are filling with tears at seeing alessia sob, in all your years of dating, she’s never cried this hard.

“you don’t want me anymore” she chokes out, “you want leah” the tears are falling at a frantic rate and she’s rubbing them so harshly with the sleeves of her (your) hoodie.

“what?” you exclaim loudly, “what are you talking about?” you grab both of her hands and wipe her tears off her cheeks, much more gently than she was previously doing.

“you’re never home! if you don’t want to be with me anymore fucking break up with me, say it to my face!” she sobs, you pull her to your chest and she thumps her fist on it.

“i don’t want to break up with you, alessia, please-” you start but she hits you again, it’s not enough to hurt you physically but it’s doing wonders emotionally. each one felt like a stab to the chest.

“why are you always with leah, why don’t you want me anymore?” she cries, leaning into you slightly as you hold her to you tightly. “fuck, alessia, no, baby, me and leah are just planning something, please, it means nothing” you assure, she shakes her head. another hit.

“but it does mean something, you’re not here, i’m alone every night, my fucking phone is blowing up and it’s driving me insane.” her tears are soaking your shirt but you don’t care.

“alessia, look at me” you say sternly, she swallows the lump in her throat and looks up at you through her wet lashes, she sniffles when you make eye contact.

“alessia, i love you, i love you more than anyone in this world, leah is a friend, our friend and that’s all she is. you’re my person, i love you” you choke out, tears were falling down your own cheeks now and alessia instinctively wiped them.

“you know what? fuck it!” you get out of the embrace and sprint to your bedroom, throwing it apart to get the ring you’ve been hiding for years. you stumble as you run back to her on the couch and look at her breathlessly, ring in hand behind your back.

“leah has been helping me in planning something very special for you” she sniffs as she looks at you, listening to you intently.

“i had this big, fucking, elaborate plan but it’ll have to wait for tomorrow, i don’t care, i’m doing this now” you quickly wipe a tear before getting down on one knee. alessia gasps loudly and covers her mouth with her hands, she’s sobbing all over again.

“alessia mia teresa russo” you choke out, taking a deep breath before taking the ring out from behind your back, alessia’s eyes widen when she sees the ring, sobbing uncontrollably.

“my pretty girl, my favourite person in the whole world. the first time i met you when we were 10, i told my family that i was going to marry you and i kept my promise” you swallow, she looks at you trying your best keep her composure, each word clinging to her ear as you spoke.

“my alessia, you’re kind, smart, beautiful and the sweetest person alive and that’s only some of the things i love about you.” you take a deep breath, tears were falling fast and hard for both of you.

“i love the way you can’t sleep without me scratching your back, the way your nose crinkles when you laugh, the way you drag me along to all your nail appointments to make me get matching nails with you”

you both let out a wet laugh, alessia looks at you with sweetest expression, her eyes were filled with love, but nothing compared to the way you were looking at her right now, she takes a mental photograph of it to replay it forever.

“you’re my best friend, my person, i couldn’t imagine a life without you, and so, i’m asking you to be my best friend forever, will you marry me?” you ask nervously, alessia lets out a sob and nods, pulling you into a bone crushing hug while kneeling on the floor with you. her face buries itself in your neck as you both cry, clutching onto each other for dear life.

“i love you, i love you so much” you coos, running a hand through her hair while her arms grip you tightly. “i love you” she breathes out, moving back to look at you. “my future wife” you breathe out in slight disbelief, her heart jolts. “my future wife” she parrots under her breath, her eyes tracing all over your face before you pull her into a passionate kiss.

it’s frantic and needy but soft and loving all at the same time. you’re moving completely in sync and she hums against you in relief. she pulls away to rest her forehead on yours, “i’m so sorry for everything” she sniffs, choking back her tears as you look at each other. “don’t be sorry, baby, it’s okay” you coo, moving a stray piece of hair from her forehead.

“fucking media bullshit” she grits out, you laugh affectionately and peck her lips a couple times, she smiles into you, “fucking media bullshit” you say in agreement, looking at her with a cheeky smile.

“can i put the ring on you, beautiful?” you grin as she nods instantly, “yes please” you take it out from the box and slip it in her finger, a complete, utter perfect fit. her breath hitches when she sees it on her finger, looking up at you then back at the ring and back at you again.

she surges forward to kiss you again, “i love you” she mumbles against your lips, you smile into her, “i love you too” you grin, kissing her deeply as you pull her to sit on the couch. after a whole lot of kissing and talking, you and alessia cuddle, she lays on top of your chest as you run your hands on her back under her hoodie.

“can we still do the proposal you planned?” alessia looks up at you from your chest, “but you have the ring already, baby” you chuckle, pinching her cheek affectionately.

“but you worked so hard on it, i feel awful” she admits, pressing a gentle kiss to your sternum. “i’ll still do what i planned and you can wear the ring, lessi” you smile, “you don’t need to feel bad at all, i can’t even imagine how you felt, i'm sorry i wasn't there for you” you look sad and alessia scrambles to straddle your waist.

“no, we’re not going to be sad, we’re forgetting all of this and being happy alessia and (y/n) who are now engaged” she says sternly, you smile up at her affectionately while running your hands over her thighs. “okay, baby” you coo, smiling when she leans down to kiss you.

—

you do your original proposal as planned and alessia and you share tears at every location. it was so special for the two of you and you were so appreciative of each other. ‘in love’ was an understatement.

when you get back to your house to all your guests, alessia looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. you do an emotional speech about alessia before thanking everyone for coming, she cries again when you never take your eyes off her as you spoke about her so affectionately.

you do your rounds together gaining congratulations and as soon as she sees leah she sprints to her. she pulls her in a tight hug and apologises profusely, leah’s eyebrows knit together in worry and confusion as she hugs your now fiancé, looking at you for any answer and you wink in response.

alessia then grabs your hand, dragging you off to look at all the photos around the room, smiling and laughing at old memories.

so no, your proposal didn’t happen the exact way you wanted but you got your girl in the end. it was definitely a story for the books. you love each other dearly and it shows.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by leahwilliamsonn and 44,232 others

alessiarusso99: my best friend, cheers to forever 🥂🍾 i love you x

view all comments

yourname: my beautiful girl, i love you so much

↳ alessiarusso99: i love you, baby

leahwilliamsonn: my babies are all grown up

↳ alessiarusso99: i’m so sorry, i love you

↳ leahwilliamsonn: why do you keep saying sorry

↳ yourname: long story

ellatoone: told you! i knew you couldn’t live without her, cheers to my sisters 🥂

↳ yourname: tooney wooney!! sister forever 🥂

↳ alessiarusso99: i won’t even lie, it’s true

↳ ellatoone: sappppppp

[totheblood]

even more modern!ellie headcanons

a/n: just a little something... again AI AUDIOS AT THE END... replies and reblogs are appreciated

masterlist

ellie is a homebody, and usually will have to be dragged out by you or dina

honestly she’s never ‘dragged’ out by you, she usually likes to tag along if she knows you’re going somewhere where there will be a lot of people

it’s not that she doesn’t trust you, it’s that she doesn’t trust the people around you

you don’t really mind anyway, you like how she loops her finger in the belt of your jeans and pulls you closer to her when she notices someone staring at you

if the person doesn’t stop she’s not above pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear while making direct eye contact with the person

you giggle, throwing your head back slightly and turning to look at her in the dim light, “what’s gotten into you, ellie?”

“that dick keeps looking at you,” another kiss pressed to your jaw, “don’t like it.”

but she’d much rather stay at home with you, both of you tucked under her comforter with the air conditioner turned down to 64° and whatever show you’re watching at the time on the tv

she hates to admit it, but she loves grey’s anatomy (she swore to you she’d never like it with a scoff and “that show is shit, babe. it’s for like, middle-aged moms with no life.”)

but now as you both have your eyes glued to the screen, she can’t help but scoff every time george is on the screen

“what?”

“he’s just such a fucking loser, this guy.”

“he’s not the worst.”

“he’s pretty fucking bad… why would he sleep with meredith and then make it about him when she starts crying! it’s obvious she’s vulnerable… i just don’t like him.”

ellie gets pretty passionate when watching tv. she’s always sharing her opinions with you, looking at you for validation or arguing when you disagree with her

she’ll always add something like: “you’re lucky you’re cute” or “if you weren’t my girlfriend i’d tear your argument apart” and then kiss you on your nose and go back to watching tv

ellie is an awful cook… like so bad

one time she tried to make a recipe for your anniversary, thinking it would be easy but ended up failing miserably

she’s the type to write out the grocery list and cross shit off as she picks things up… even when she doesn’t know what it means

she didn’t know what trader joe’s was, so when she got there she’d be picking shit up and looking at it with a weird look on her face, “mango… joe joe’s? what the fuck is that?” she’d mutter before putting the box back on the shelf

but eventually she’s getting sucked in, picking up a box of mini ice cream cones, cookie butter, and the rest of the groceries needed for the meal she planned on making for you

you come over and the place is a mess, there is flour all over the counter and floors, pots and pans piled up in the stove, and ellie is stood over a bowl, mixing with a giant wooden spoon

“ellie?”

“shit.. fuck,” she curses, jumping a little bit before turning and smiling at you, her eyes looking you up and down, “you fucking scared me. you’re early.”

“no, i’m not.”

ellie’s eyes glance down at her watch, cursing as she bolts towards the stove a “no, no, no,” falling from her lips as she opens and sees the chicken inside burnt to a crisp. she’s throwing on her mitt and pulling the pan out, sighing as she watches all her hard work go to waste.

“you were trying to cook for me?”

ellie forgot you were there for a moment, her jumping a little at the sound of your voice and wiping the sweat from her forehead as she gives you her best smile, even though it’s strained.

“babe, i’m sorry, i- i don’t know where i went wrong,” she sighs, watching as you walk closer to her and put your hands on the counter behind her trapping her in.

“don’t be sorry” you kiss the side of her lips and smile against her skin, tasting her sweat, “it’s sweet… no one’s ever cooked for me before.”

she’s blushing and leaning into you, your warmth providing her some comfort from her previous stress 

“you look nice,” she whispers below her breath, but you can still feel the puffs of air coming out of her mouth, “you deserve a good meal.”

“i’m not picky,” you whisper back, giggling as ellie’s heart leaps in her chest. she loves you so much it hurts

her hands rest at your hips when she kisses you gently, saying something about missing you that you miss because of how her lips feel against yours

you order takeout that night and eat it as you help her clean up the mess she made

“have you ever been to trader joe’s? that shit was crazy”

ellie is the type of girlfriend to send you two people from a tv show or an edit and be like “babe, this is so us”

or to think it’s so cute when you have matching icons on instagram, tiktok, or twitter

she just wants to show you off all the time

she draws the line at a joint couple account though

she’s always writing things about you, whether it be in her journal, little poems, or songs about you

she’d post a song she wrote you on tiktok with the caption “wrote this song about my lover” and not expect it to blow up

but then she’s receiving a million comments about how sweet it is and how people wish someone would do something like that for them

she doesn’t like the comment “can your gf fight” so she’s responding to all of them like “no, she can’t, but i can and i will! LEAVE MY GF ALONE!!”

but she’d brag about it to you, shoving her phone in your face and saying “look, your girlfriend is fucking famous.”

when you gasp and grab her face congratulating her in between kisses her face grows red and she’s smiling so wide her cheeks hurt

“don’t forget me when you become famous.”

“how could i forget my muse?”

ellie loves listening to music with you and will make you a playlist that she updates with every song she listens to that reminds her of you

she’s incredibly corny in that way

she always wants to listen to the music you suggest to her, wanting to be closer to you in any way she can

even if she doesn’t like it she’s pretending she loves it and playing it constantly, even when you aren’t around

ai audios:

[aanoia]

OMG I HAVE ANOTHER ONE I HAVE ANOTHER ONE

What about putting lights on the house with single dad James that’s also next door neighbor. So basically Harry sees their nice next door neighbor struggling to put up the outside decorations and he forces his dad to help. And Que cute decorating time and end with hot cocoa and baking cookies with Harry!

I LOVED this idea, thank you

𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 - a hallmark christmas movie

James Potter x reader day eight of christmas advent calendar words; 1,600+ warnings; broken glass i made harry really clumsy and lily evil so enjoy

Y/n sighed, hands on her hips, as she stared at the bucket of tangled Christmas lights. She thought hard on how she could possibly do this, the years before she’s always had a boyfriend or her dad do it. But this year, not only was she single but her dad was visiting her sister in America this Christmas.

‘If only magic was real,’ She thought while shaking her head and beginning to work on the Christmas lights. 

Y/n struggled to pull out a single strand, so she decided to just pour them all out instead. She sat on her snowy lawn, thankful she had decided to wear her snow gear before she came out. Y/n sat there, pulling roughly on the lights and fighting off frustrated tears.

After ten minutes of trying she threw the lights onto the snow in annoyance and flopped onto her back, spreading out her arms and legs as if she was making a snow angel. She glared at the snow falling from the sky.

From inside the next door house, a little boy with charcoal hair watched the woman intently from the window. His breath fogged up the window, so every breath he exhaled he wiped his sleeve against the cold glass.

“Harry, it’s rude to stare.” The boy's dad, James, said as he hugged his son from behind and pulled him up. Harry laughed as James tickled his stomach.

“I think she needs help, dada.” Harry mentioned - his lisp making his “s” sound like a “th” - and James cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah, what makes you think that?” He asked his son.

“Look, she can’t get her Christmas lights to go apart.” He explained and James peered out the window to see his neighbors figure in the snow, struggling to untangle lights.

James ruffled his son's hair and set him back down, “She’ll figure it out, bud, don’t worry.”

Y/n sighed in relief as the Christmas lights were finally untangled. She stood up, her legs cracking loudly, and picked up the connected strands. She connected the end to a long extension cord. Y/n waddled over to the ladder and prayed her driveway didn’t have any ice she couldn’t see as she climbed up cautiously. 

A gust of wind blew past and she gripped onto the sides roughly, closing her eyes and sending a prayer to the universe. She took another step up, and another, until she could finally reach the hooks on the edge of her house. Y/n looped the strand around the hook and brought it over to the next.

She repeated this multiple times until she got to the end. Y/n glanced at her neighbors window and smiled at the sight of the small boy looking at her from inside. He gave her a wide smile, showing his missing two front teeth. She waved at him, instantly regretting her decision.

A large gust of wind blew by and her lights flickered and zapped, causing her to startle and slip from the ladder. A loud crack filled the air and immediately she was in a warm pair of strong arms. Y/n didn’t care who it was, she just held on tightly to her savior as she tried to calm her heart.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice asked as he set her down and Y/n finally looked up.

‘What in the Hallmark Christmas movie is this?’ She wondered as she stared in the framed eyes of her hot neighbor. His front door closed loudly as his little boy ran over worriedly.

“Are you okay, Miss Y/n?” Harry asked, grabbing onto her hand with both his small ones. His snowcoat was on backwards and his scarf was in a tangle around his head, but at least he tried.

Y/n smiled and leaned down to the boy, “Oh, yes, I’m perfectly fine, Harry, thank you.” Harry took a step and wrapped his arms around the woman.

“Up, please.” He said quietly and Y/n laughed as she picked him up. James watched the interaction with awe in his eyes. He’s never seen a woman like that with Harry, not since Lily left the two for America. 

“Thank you, James. I really appreciate it.” Y/n said and James smiled.

“Of course, anytime. Let me finish the job for you though.” He offered and Y/n nodded, holding tightly onto the little boy. 

“Be careful.” Y/n warned as James climbed up the ladder. He laughed and put the strand on the last hook before sliding down the ladder.

“Easy peasy.” He boasted and Y/n rolled her eyes and set Harry down. “We better get back to our house.”

“No!” Harry complained.

Y/n held out a hand, stopping the man from dragging his kid back to their house, “Do you want to come in? I have a tree I still need to decorate and some cookies practically begging to be baked.” James was silent as he contemplated. “I have hot cocoa! With the little chunks of candy cane in it.”

James immediately nodded, “I’m sold.”

“Okay, crack the eggs carefully, Harry. We don’t want any of the shells getting into the batter, alright?”

Harry nodded, “Okay.” He smashed the egg against the bowl and cracked it perfectly and he did it again with the second egg. When the third egg came around, he hit against the bowl with just a little too much force and the insides of the egg out, half going onto the table and the other half in the bowl, egg shells going along with it.

The room was silent for a moment before Y/n began laughing, the two boys quickly joining in. Y/n shook her head in amusement as she grabbed a spoon and handed it to Harry, instructing him to fish out the egg shells as she grabbed a napkin and quickly cleaned the egg on the table.

“Harry, don’t eat the raw egg.” James said with a smile and Harry stuck his tongue out at his dad. James returned the gesture as Y/n measured a cup of flour. She handed it to Harry who dumped the flour onto his head instead of in the bowl.

“What?” Y/n asked as James stood in shock as bits of flour fell from his sons head.

“What was the point of that?” James asked and Harry laughed, the adults joining in with him to make the kitchen full of laughter once again.

“Oh, you’re such a dork.” Y/n teased. “Tell you what, the bathroom is just down the hall, I’ll finish the batter while you go let your dad clean you up, yeah?” Harry nodded and jumped off the stool, causing more flour to cover the ground in white.

“I’m sorry.” James said as he followed after his kid.

Y/n smiled, “You can use my shampoo.”

“Okay, Harry, you have to be very careful with this one. It’s very fragile.” Y/n said as she handed Harry a glass ornament. Harry nodded and held the ornament by the string.

Unavoidably, Harry tripped over a box and in an attempt to steady himself the ornament dropped to the floor and shattered into pieces. Harry immediately began crying and worry filled Y/n’s body, afraid he had been cut by the glass. She swept him off the floor and checked his bare feet to see nothing but blank skin. She looked at his hands to see them in the same condition.

“Oh, Harry, what’s wrong? Did you get hurt?” She asked as James rushed to get the broom from the kitchen. 

“I broke your tree decoration!” He said, which only made him wail louder. Y/n sat on her sofa and cradled the boy in her arms.

“Oh, love, it’s okay. It’s just an ornament. I’m just glad you’re okay.” She said quietly and James froze at the sight, broom in hand.

His heart swelled as he only fell deeper in love with his neighbor. He had always thought she was beautiful, but seeing how she interacted with Harry - both today and many previous interactions - made him feel more than just attraction. He was curious and felt a longing for her. He didn’t want her to only take up the hole Lily left in his heart, he wanted her to take his whole heart, and Harry’s too. 

Once Harry stopped crying, he quickly fell asleep, exhausted from the day and its endeavors.

“We had a really good time.” James said as the two adults walked to the front door.

“Yeah, I did too. I’ll make sure to bring over some cookies for you two.” Y/n responded with a smile, leaning against the doorframe as James took a step into the dark night. 

He turned around, “Y/n…” He hesitated.

“Yes?”

James glanced up and smiled, “There’s a mistletoe.” He said quietly and Y/n’s eyes flitted up as well. She furrowed her brows at the mistletoe, she had definitely not put that there. She didn’t even own one.

Her eyes met James again, “So it seems.”

James leaned in, and when Y/n didn’t protest he went farther. Y/n’s hand found James’ cheek and she gently connected their lips. The kiss was soft, and warm, despite the cold air nipping at their cheeks. Y/n laughed softly as they pulled apart.

“What’s so funny?” James asked with a grin.

“You’re cute.” She whispered and he was thankful the cold reddened his cheeks before she could.

“Good night.” He responded.

“Good night, James.” Y/n said and closed the door, leaning against it once he left. She slid down and sat with a giddy smile. “Definitely a Hallmark Christmas movie.”

my masterlist

If you'd like to be added to my main or christmas taglist comment or DM me!

christmas taglist; @loving-and-dreaming @1lellykins @poetrypirate @ashisabitgay @kodiskisses @whitemanswh0r3 @ultraoreoqueen @miss-mercuryy @peanutbutterinacup @r-scneptune @pheonixfucu @slay345-7 @luannemaru @jluvsjpotts @its-a-ittle-bit-cold @maraudersgirlie @thescarletredwitch @irjdujsksjahhbs @irjdujsksjahhbs @1-800-ididurmum @jennasco @myradiaz @chellyrps @lixiefelicis @ittybittyhogan @lollloki @dreamingofmarauders @everybodyhatesari @agy-mari @wayytoocooll @notaboutlovebyfiona @harrington-potter @little-bubba @mblacksworld @optirizzprime @whoreforlupin @0-cherries-0 @itsjustpoppy-blog @jdoshalablab-blog @mybelovedneilperry @gublers-gf @bellathethirstybitch @poetrynerdsunite @talesof-old

[diazevan]

it's a leap of faith

Buck needs to talk to somebody after kissing Tommy. So, naturally, he ends up on his sister's doorstep in the early hours of the morning. Read on AO3

“Hey, I’m sorry..." Buck feels like he’s completed a marathon, or maybe even two. All he's done is sit in his apartment, mulling over the events of the evening, before realizing he needed to speak to somebody. 

So, he got into his car and drove to the person he can always count on.

Maddie stares at him, slowly blinking. “Buck, it’s the middle of the night.”

“Sorry.” His heart thumps in his ears, and if he doesn’t sit down soon, he may crumple into a heap. “I just—I just, um–”

“Hey.” Worry fills Maddie’s face. She reaches out, pressing a hand to his arm. “It’s okay. Come inside.”

Buck takes careful steps toward the dinner table, because if Jee-Yun hears a floorboard creak, she’ll be up. 

He thanks the stars that Chimney is working. While he hopes to tell everybody about his revelation, he intends on taking it slow. 

Maddie takes a glass from her cupboard and fills it with water, which she places in front of him. He takes a sip, ignoring how much his hands tremble as he does.

He can sense Maddie’s concerned gaze, looking for answers and worrying about worst case scenarios, as both of them tend to do.

“Buck, look at me.” She takes his hand, and mimics a deep breath, for him to follow. “Breathe.”

“I’m okay,” he pants, taking time to calm himself. “I promise, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” Maddie’s eyes are frantically searching for an answer, and he can see the panic growing in them.

“I spoke to Eddie,” he calms his tone, hoping to show her that he is okay.

“Yeah?”

“He forgives me. And I owe him a few favors,” Buck says, with  a smile.

“Rightfully so.”

“I, ur…” Buck laughs, bowing his head. Then, he stops, taking a second to compose himself. 

This is the moment. The leap of faith he knows that queer people take every single day, and this one is his.

He isn’t sure what he wants or needs to say. There’s no manual for this, and researching ‘how to come out’ only guides him so far. “Do you ever feel like you’re not complete?” he finally asks.

Maddie frowns. “Not complete?”

“Like there’s parts of who you are, that you haven’t discovered yet, and when you do, everything kinda, comes into focus,” he stammers.

“Sure.” Maddie nods. “I think that’s life, right? We’re always changing.”

“I guess.” 

“Evan?” She speaks gently, as if she’s calling out to him, despite being sat side-by-side. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“I just, kinda don’t know how to explain it.” Buck sits up in his chair, clutching his hands together. 

“I’ll understand.”

There’s no right or wrong way to do this, but Buck feels like he’s about to take center stage and perform a song he doesn’t know.

“Tommy kissed me,” Buck blurts.

Surprise crosses Maddie’s face, and her jaw slacks slightly. “Tommy kissed you?” Her expression morphs with realization, and she smiles. “And how did that make you feel?”

“I, um, I kissed him back,” Buck splutters, his hands flailing about in front of him. “I wanted to, and I…” He suddenly becomes aware that his cheeks are wet with tears.

He’s not entirely sure why he’s crying. He’s certainly not upset. If anything, he’s joyous.

“It felt like, um that—” he cries.

“Everything came into focus?” Maddie finishes.

“Yeah, yeah.” He runs his hands over his cheeks. “It really did.”

Maddie jumps to her feet and pulls him into her arms. Since he’s sitting down, she has a height advantage, and as he wraps his hands around her back, he feels like a little kid again.

The same one who always ran to his big sister.

“Thank you for telling me,” she whispers in his ear as she clings to him. She steps back to press a kiss against his birthmark. “I’m proud—oh, and I.” Tears are filling her eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Buck spots the clock on the wall behind Maddie, and inwardly cringes. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“It’s fine.” She waves a dismissive hand as she sits down. “You can always wake me up when you need me.”

"Thank you." He relaxes, and then says, “I thought I’d be–”

“You’d be what?”

“Confused, but I’m not, it all makes sense.” He leans his head in his hand. “There are all these moments I’ve looked back at, and I know now, what they meant.” He lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug. “I just, I never knew that this was a discovery I could made–”

“What, at your old age?” She teases. “Not everybody knows exactly who they’re going to be by 18.” Her smile somehow grows wider. “I’m so happy for you. You look–” she cuts herself off, tilting her head like she’s had an epiphany of her own.

“What?”

“You don’t look like you’re holding the weight of the world on your back anymore.”

Buck lets out another breath, and like every one since Tommy kissed him, it is filled with relief.

Because he’s finally free.

[cameronspecial]

I Will Be Your Girlfriend, Rafe

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Wisdom Teeth Removal

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.5K

Summary: Y/N is a little bit confused after she gets her wisdom teeth removed and Rafe takes advantage of this for a prank.

A/N: The video inspiration was sent in by Anonymous.

Masterlist

Y/N’s wisdom teeth have been bothering her for months and she has finally been able to get an appointment to get them removed. Rafe had been a little nervous about the procedure. Sure, the surgery is safe, but what if something happens to her? Even though he didn’t have to wait in the oral surgeon’s office, he wanted to stay just in case his fiancée or the doctor needed him. About an hour and a half later, Rafe is called into the room because she is waking up from the procedure. “Hey,” he greets when he sees her dopey open eyes. Y/N gives him a goofy smile caused by the effects of the anesthesia she was under. Her finger points at him, “You’re pretty.” Rafe chuckles, approaching her to sit on the chair beside the bed. “Thank you. You are beautiful too,” he states. She continues to grin at him, “What’s your name?”

“Rafe, Angel.”

“Rafe Angel is a funny name.”

“Angel is what I call you.”

“My name is Angel?” she asks confused with her hand on her chest. Rafe is having such a hard time keeping in his laughter, “No, your name is Y/N.” She nods in understanding. “I will be your girlfriend, Rafe,” she declares, changing the topic in her high state. Her hand squeezes his cheeks together. Rafe sees this as her opportunity to play a little prank on her and although he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings, he thinks she’ll find it funny. Rafe sets up his phone to film them so that they can rewatch this moment later. He looks at her regretfully, “I’m sorry to say that I have a fiancée, Y/N.” She pouts and he swears tears might crop up in her eyes. “Oh no, but you are so pretty. Please be my boyfriend,” she whines, trying to kiss him. Rafe pulls away with a shake of his head, “I’m sorry, but I’m very in love with her. She’s so smart and beautiful and funny and nice.” “Noooo, I want to be your girlfriend,” she cries. Regret instantly fills Rafe. He hates seeing her cry. His arms envelop her in a hug and bring her into his chest. 

“Hey, hey. No need to cry. Look at your finger,” he instructs, kissing her temple. Y/N’s teary eyes look down at the ring on her finger. Her crying ebbs, “Who gave this to me?” “I did, Angel. I’m going to be marrying you,” he whispers. Her grin turns massive and she pulls him in tighter. “We are getting married?” she repeats, looking up at him. “Yes. Now, how about we get you home?” he suggests. “Can I have a kiss first?” she pleads, her voice still soft from crying. “Of course.” He closes the distance between their lips and laughs into the kiss when he feels her hand give his butt a tiny squeeze. They pull apart and she takes his hand into hers. “He’s my fiancé,” she announces to the dentist assistant, who walks in to go over the discharge procedure. The assistant smiles at her, “That’s great, Sweetie. You guys make an adorable couple.” Y/N beams at Rafe and cuddles into his side. Her head may be a little hazy from the drugs, but she knows for sure that this is a man who she loves. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @nonbullshit-toleratingkindagirl

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Your New Girl (Melissa Schemmenti x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You ask Melissa to help you get back at your ex when you lie and say you have a new girlfriend

Words: 4.6k

Warnings: low self esteem, asshole ex girlfriends, alcohol

“I need to ask you a massive favour.”

You closed the classroom door, pressing your back to it. Looking up from over the top of her glasses, Melissa considered you for a long moment. Her lips pursed and in one horrifying moment it came crashing down what a bad idea this had been.

“You know what? Never mind.”

You spun, hand already on the doorknob.

“Whaddaya want?” she asked before you could flee.

You sighed, turning back around. The expression on her face was not helping with the nerves in your body, nor the belief she was about to tear you a new one.

“Look, uh… you know how Ava tricked me into going to the club with her tonight?”

“Uh huh,” you said, the expression on her face darkening.

“Well, through a horrible set of circumstances my ex girlfriend was here, talking to Ava who invited her tonight and I might have mentioned that I have a super hot girlfriend as she was leaving and she said she couldn’t wait to meet her tonight,” you rushed out, watching her incredulity deepen, “and I don’t have a super hot girlfriend and I can’t just not show up because then she’ll know I lied.”

“Why do you care what she thinks?” she asked.

You took a deep breath, not wanting to admit the reason. But the way she was looking at you said you had to or she’d never give you what you wanted.

“She broke my heart. Like shattered into a million pieces on the floor broken. And when she left, she told me it was because I wasn’t good enough for her, and that she’d already found someone better. Salt in the wounds and all that,” you said, “so I guess I just wanted her to know that I’d moved on and she didn’t destroy me.”

The look of pity that crossed her face was the opposite of what you’d wanted to see. You sighed.

“Hon…” Her voice had softened.

“Don’t. Don’t with that voice. I didn’t come here for that.” You pointed at her, advancing on her desk.

“Then what did you come here for?” she asked.

“Right.” You couldn’t forget to actually ask, “I need a super hot fake girlfriend. Janine is annoying, Barbra is Barbra, and she’s already met Ava. And I know it’s a big ask, but would you be willing to pretend with me? Just for one night? I’ll buy you an entire dozen donuts from that place you love.”

“You want me to go to a club with Ava?” She raised one eyebrow.

“Two dozen,” you said.

She considered you for another long moment. You fidgeted in front of her, knowing you were asking too much of her. Of course she’d say no. No one wants to go out with Ava. Least of all Melissa. And it didn’t matter that you were kind of friends with her, not when you were asking her for so much.

“Deal.”

“What?” You must have missed something, “seriously?”

“Sure, hon. As long as you’re good for those donuts,” she replied, turning her eyes back to the work she’d been grading, “text me what time to pick you up.”

Returning home to your sad, depressing apartment, you could feel yourself freaking out. You were going to spend the night with your ex while pretending Melissa was your new super hot girlfriend. Melissa was going to be touching you. Melissa was maybe going to be flirting with you. Melissa, the most intimidating woman you’d met who you’d been half in love with for the last year, was going to be your fake girlfriend for the night. You were so fucked.

You’d shot yourself in the foot by asking her to be the one to help you with the situation you’d created. It must be self sabotage to ask the only woman who could destroy you to do this for you. The only woman you knew who could ruin you inside and out with barely more than a smile.

And yet as you got ready you did it with the hope of her finding you sexy enough to maybe see you more as than just a teacher she worked with.

The buzzer sounded just as you zipped your boots up. Were thigh high boots a smart choice? Probably not, but with your dress they made you look hot. Hopefully.

“Come on up,” you said into the intercom.

The pounding on your door had a tinge of annoyance in it already. You pulled it open, almost reeling back when you saw Melissa standing on the other side. Your eyes scanned her body, lingering in places that weren’t appropriate for a work colleague. Pants practically painted on, tight top with cleavage pushed up, she was the exact kind of vision you imagined late at night when your hand wandered.

“Well shit, hon, don’t you look like a heartbreaker,” she said.

Your cheeks heated and you felt jittery.

“Come on in,” you said, stepping back, “I need to grab my purse.”

“Why do you live in a shoebox?” she asked, looking over the apartment that was made up of four rooms at most if you were being generous.

“Unless you can tell me how to find somewhere better on our salary, this is the best I can get on my own,” you called from the bedroom.

“You could always live with someone else,” she suggested, sounding much closer than you were expecting.

She was leaning on the doorframe of your bedroom, hip cocked, arms crossed pushing up her cleavage even more. Those green eyes were watching you, so intense, making you shiver. Lips curled up in a smirk and you knew tonight was going to ruin you.

“I guess because I don’t have anyone to live with,” you replied.

“That your purse?” She glanced down at the purse in your hands.

“Yup,” you replied, “so we can go now or… never.”

“If you’re having second thoughts now’s the time to tell me,” she said.

“Not unless you are,” you said, hoping you sounded calm.

“C’mon hon.”

She grabbed your arm, pulling you out of your apartment without another word. She held the car door open for you, like you were going on a proper date. Your heart fluttered.

The car ride to the club was surprisingly quiet. You kept sneaking glances over at her, not sure if you should fill the silence or not. Janine would, which made you think Melissa wouldn’t appreciate it. So that left you listening to the radio quietly as you did your best not to stare too long at her.

“Relax,” she said, pulling up a street or two from the club, “we can still leave if you want.”

“I’m crazy for doing this right?” You sought out her eyes, needing the reassurance that you hadn’t totally lost your mind.

“Sure, maybe a little. But who doesn’t get a bit crazy around an asshole ex?” she said, “look, hon, I’m not gonna judge you for doing this but if you don’t want to go in there I can take you home. Or I could buy you a drink and we can ignore her altogether. Since we’re already here.”

You bit down on your lip as you thought about it. The interior of the car was so dark you must have misread the way her eyes flicked down then away from you.

“Okay,” you said, “yeah, a drink. And thanks. For doing this and indulging in my crazy.”

“The donuts are worth it,” she said, opening her door.

You laughed as you followed her, reminding yourself this was an exchange and she wasn’t helping you out of the kindness of her heart. There was no way she liked you enough for that. You weren’t Barbra.

She placed her hand on the small of your back. You could feel her warmth through the thin material of your dress, burning into your skin as you walked to the line of the club. The line stretched far down the block, thumping music spilling out whenever the door was opened to let someone in. You went to join the end of the line but Melissa guided you to the man at the door.

She lent forward, whispering something in his ear. He nodded, holding the door open for them.

“C’mon, hon,” she said, hand sliding around to grasp your hip, “only the best for my girl.”

A high pitched giggle was the only response you gave.

Inside the bass was thumping and the lights were flashing and bodies were pressing in from every angle. Melissa kept her arm around you, holding you close as she wound through people, directing you towards the bar. There were people on tables dancing and you were already regretting letting Ava trick you into coming with her.

“Gimme a beer and one of those green drinks,” Melissa shouted across the bar at one of the bartenders.

She lent back against it, pulling you closer until her body was brushing against yours.

“Are you going to be driving home?” you asked, raising your voice to be heard above the music.

“I’m only gonna have one. Don’t worry, hon. I’ll make sure you get home okay,” she said, leaning forward to say it into your ear. Her lips brushed against your earlobe, making you shiver.

“Hey.”

A hand landed on your shoulder. Melissa’s gaze hardened. You turned, finding your ex standing there, looking as hot as the first day you’d met her. She was grinning at you, eyes slowly taking in your appearance.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show up,” she shouted to you.

“I promised Ava,” you shouted back.

A hand curled around your waist again, hand grazing over your stomach. You were pulled back against a supple body, a chin coming to rest on your shoulder. Your ex turned her gaze to Melissa, smile hardening.

“This is Melissa, the woman I was telling you about,” you said, “Mel, this is Carrie.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Melissa said, not bothering to offer her hand to your ex.

You felt the challenge in the air.

“All good I hope,” Carrie said.

“Keep hoping,” Mel replied.

You had to stifle your laughter. Carrie’s face hardened as Melissa tightened her arm around you.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” she murmured, passing the electric green drink to you.

“Thanks,” you replied, turning your head to look at her, nose brushing against hers.

You paused a moment, breathless from how close she was. Her eyes were lingering on your lips, breath ghosting over your skin. You couldn’t move, drawn into the well of her gravity, leaning closer.

“Aw, aren’t you guys cute?”

You blinked, drawing back from Melissa just enough to be able to breath again. Her hand was still pressing against her stomach, holding you close. Carrie was watching you two, a straw between her lips, sucking slow on the liquid in her glass. Her eyes kept darting between the two of you, something mean curling her lip.

“I didn’t realise you were into older woman,” she said, “I mean she must be old enough to be your mother.”

You felt Melissa stiffen behind you. You rolled your eyes at Carrie, snorting at the implication. It was such a weak argument.

“Sorry, turns out I like someone mature enough to hold a meaningful conversation,” you replied, “and with the experience to be more than an unsatisfying fumble under the covers.”

Soft lips pressed to your cheek. You inhaled sharply, trying to remain relaxed in her hold as eyes narrowed. You took a drink from the glass, covering the warmth in your cheeks and the shaky hand. If just the brush of her lips against the apple of your cheek could do this to you, you would never survive more from her.

“Ava is waiting for you in the VIP area,” Carrie said.

“Oh goodie,” you muttered.

Melissa snorted, tangling her fingers with yours to tug you after Carrie’s retreating back. The brush of her palm against yours, the feel of her warmth so close, the scent of her perfume wrapping around you. It was all too much.

“You’re right,” she murmured against your ear, “she’s a bitch.”

“Really?” you asked.

“Fuck her,” she grumbled but you weren’t sure you were meant to have heard.

You moved into the roped off section of the club, upstairs and exclusive, the kind of place you’d never been before. Melissa slipped her arm around your waist again, the brush of her body making you feel lightheaded. The people surrounded you weren’t so packed in and their clothing was way nicer than those downstairs. Expensive drinks were flowing like water. You felt so out of place.

Carrie sat at a small collection of sofas and chairs in the middle of the room. Ava was holding court, drink in one hand, bottle of champagne in the other. The others around were listening and laughing along. You hovered, feeling so out of place, sliding your arm around Melissa’s waist just to feel grounded to something real.

Melissa?” Ava said, catching sight of you standing just outside their circle, “what are you doing here?”

“She’s with me,” you replied, tightening your hold on her until she was pressed against your side.

Yeah, you were so fucked.

“Wait, you two are together? Since when?” she asked.

“Yeah, since when?” Carrie asked, leaning forward until her cleavage was practically spilling out of her dress.

“A while now,” you replied.

“Why didn’t you tell me? You know I love gossip,” Ava complained.

“Didn’t want you in my business,” Melissa said, “still don’t if I’m being honest.”

“You didn’t have any issue telling me,” Carrie said, looking up from under her eyelashes at her.

“It’s a little different telling you than it is telling my boss,” she replied.

“You trying to make me jealous, cookie?” she asked, smirking up at you.

You’d forgotten she’d used to call you that.

“Since you told me you could do better I didn’t think I was able to,” you replied.

Melissa’s arm tightened around you, fingers pressing into your hip.

“But then you showed up looking like that so I might have to reevaluate that,” she replied.

You couldn’t miss the growl that came from Melissa. She pressed closer to you and when you turned to look at her, she was clenching her jaw and glaring at Carrie.

“Too bad she already has someone then,” she snapped.

Carrie’s eyes were almost lazy as they moved over to Melissa.

“We’ll see,” she hummed, tongue pulling the straw in her glass back into her mouth.

You could feel how tense Melissa was, body stiff, almost vibrating. You turned your head, lips brushing her cheek. Those green eyes flashed down to you, softening for a moment. You sighed, gently brushing a bit of her hair away from her face, fingers lingering on her skin.

“Do you want to dance?” she asked.

“You dance?” You smiled up at her.

“Course I dance,” she said, sounding offended.

“You better show me your moves then, Schemmenti,” you murmured.

She plucked the empty glass from your hand, placing it down on a passing waiter’s tray before threading her fingers through yours and tugging you towards the dance floor. Once you were there, you weren’t sure what to do. Not that you didn’t know how to dance. You just didn’t know how to dance with Melissa. You paused, too far from her to even touch.

“What are you doing, hon?” she asked, reaching out to pull you closer.

“Sorry.” You shook your head, “aren’t you finding this all a bit… weird?”

She pulled your arms around your neck, her own sliding around your waist. Your whole body flooded with heat as her hips began to move in time with the music. She was slow, guiding you against her, bodies pressing closer, one of her legs slotting between yours. Your breath caught, a low throbbing beginning as she brushed against you.

“Does this feel weird to you, hon?” she asked.

You couldn’t answer that question honestly.

“I don’t know if you’re a good actress or just a good liar but you’re weirdly good at this,” you said.

“And you need to loosen up,” she said.

Her hands drifted to your hips. With practiced ease, she guided your hips to sway, practically grinding down on the thigh she’s slotted between yours. You pressed your lips together, doing your best not to let the small whimper fall from your lips. Leaning forward, her hair brushed against your cheek, lips brushing your earlobe again.

“You’re doing fine,” she whispered.

“Do you think I’m making my point?” you asked.

Her hands were guiding you to grind down on her harder. Your eyes caught on hers, not able to look away as the music beat in time with the thud of your heart. Breath caught in your chest, not sure what the expression on her face was. If you had hope, it would be something close to lust.

“She’s watching us,” Melissa said, “and she looks mad. She knows she has no chance with you.”

She hauled you closer, hands sliding from your hips to your ass. Another flash of heat swarmed through your veins. She was close enough that if you just tilted your face up just right your lips would be brushing against hers. The warmth of her body was everywhere and you couldn’t control the way a moan rumbled in your chest. Her lips quirked up into a crooked smile.

A warm body pressed to your back, startling you out of your thoughts. Melissa’s eyes flicked to whoever was at your back, hardening. Her hands, still on your ass, pulled you close enough there was no space between, bodies pressed together as tight as possible. You turned your head, finding Carrie behind you. She gave you a smile you’d seen before, the one she would shoot you as she was trying to turn you on. The one that always inevitably ended with your fingers buried inside her.

You narrowed your eyes, pointedly turning away from her. Melissa was right there and an awful idea entered your head. An idea so bad you knew it was terrible even before your impulse control left your body and you knew you’d be paying for it for years to come. You tightened your arms around her next, pulling her down until she was a hairbreadths away from you.

“Please don’t kill me,” you whispered.

You didn’t give her a chance to respond before your lips were pressed to hers. She was frozen beneath yours for a long drawn out moment. When she began to kiss you back you had to do your best not to read too much into it or enjoy it too much. Her tongue swept over your bottom lip. You gasped into her mouth, her tongue licking in. Your head was growing dizzy and she was everywhere and everything. Her hands on your body, that leg still between yours, the thrumming of heat in your veins making your thoughts scatter until there was nothing but her.

You could taste her, the beer she’d been drinking lingering. You moaned into her mouth, the entire attempt to not enjoy the kiss fleeing. She kissed you harder, hands squeezing. Your hips were pressing down on her thigh, grinding in time with the music again as she turned your body to jelly. You wanted to melt against her and to writhe beneath her and scream her name as you came over and over again.

“Get a room.”

You jumped, lips pulling away from hers. Carrie was glaring at the two of you, bright spots on her cheeks. It was like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you, reminding you of exactly what was going on. You looked back to Melissa, feeling stricken. The way she was looking at you was something you never wanted to see.

“I’m so sorry.”

You pulled out of her hold, darting away through the crowd. You couldn’t face her, not after that. She had not signed up for you mauling her on the dance floor. She’d never speak to you again. You’d ruined any chance of anything ever happening. Just remembering the look on her face, the way she looked at you, made you want to throw up.

Pushing out of the door onto the street, cold air hit your body. You gasped for breath, stumbling down the street, doing your best not to cry. You had to get home. You had to never show your face again. You had to figure out a way to avoid Melissa for the rest of your life.

There was no plan, your feet just carrying you as far from the club as you could get. You heard someone shout your name. You quickened your pace, curling your arms around your body, trying to keep your ribs from exploding.

A warm hand grasped your shoulder as you were passing a familiar car. It spun you, forcing you stare into thunderous green eyes. You tried to pull away but Melissa’s hold on you only tightened. Tears sprung up into your eyes and you looked away from her.

“What the fuck?” she demanded.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, “really. I… I don’t even know what came over me. I just… I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah, so you keep saying.” She still wasn’t letting go of you, “why’d ya run?”

“Because…” You couldn’t even look at her.

“Because what? Was I that bad at kissing? I know I’m not your first choice but you didn’t have to run outta there like I was something you found living in your drain,” she said.

“What?” She wasn’t making any sense.

“If you were that disgusted by me you coulda asked someone else to help you,” she said and for the first time you could hear the hurt in her voice.

Maybe that expression hadn’t been disgust like you’d thought.

“I ran because I thought you didn’t like it. Or were mad at me. Or were going to hate me,” you said, “I thought… fuck Mel, I thought you hated kissing me.”

She was looking at you like you’d lost your damned mind.

“Why would you think that?” she asked.

“Because of the way you were looking at me. And I know you don’t like me like that and you’re you so I know that you want to keep people you work with at a certain distance. And you wouldn’t want me kissing you since I didn’t even ask and you don’t want me kissing you,” you blurted out.

“Whaddaya talking about?”

You sighed, knowing you were going to have to admit to things you hadn’t wanted to if only to make her think you didn’t hate her. She might hate you even more once you did though.

“Melissa…” She was so going to hate you, “I like you. I really like you. So much that some days you’re all I can think about. And I’ve thought about kissing you so many times before and whenever I imagined it, you always wanted it too. Tonight’s just been kind of a lot, knowing you were doing everything just as a favour and not because…. Not because you wanted to.”

“Hon,” she began to say.

“It’s fine,” you cut her off, “it’s fine, Mel. You don’t feel the same. It’s okay.”

“You gonna let me talk?” she demanded, finally letting you go.

You gestured for her to continue, heart constricting, not wanting to hear the rejection you knew was coming. But, like a love sick fool, you couldn’t say no to her.

“I wouldn’t have said yes to this if I didn’t like you,” she said and then stopped. You waited but it seemed as if that was the end of what she wanted to say.

“I don’t understand,” you said, shaking your head.

Her hands landed on your hips, pushing you until your back hit her car. Your eyes widened, mouth falling open. Her eyes turned down to them, before looking into yours.

“I like you, hon. I’ve thought about kissing you. I’ve thought about doing a whole lot more than kissing too. I thought you were the one who didn’t want me,” she said.

“Why would you think that?” You didn’t know what to think.

“You heard what that… what she said. I’m old enough to be your mom. Why would you want me,” she said.

“Because you’re hot as fuck,” you said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “and my favourite person. I’d take you over everyone.”

She never gave you the chance to say more, lips claiming yours in a searing kiss. She pressed you back against the car, your own hands coming up to cup her cheeks, wanting her closer. She moaned into your mouth, tongue finding yours until you were melting against her. You whimpered and she groaned, drawing back from you.

“Time I took you home, sweetheart,” she said, lips trailing down your neck.

“Don’t wanna go home,” you sighed, fingers sliding into her hair.

“Not your home,” she all but growled, “mine.”

Someone wolf-whistled from across the street. You startled, jerking away from her. She shouted something back at the man, words lost in your haze as you stared up at her unable to believe what was happening. She turned back to you.

“Get in the car,” she said.

You opened the door, feeling her hand smack your ass before you could climb in. You glanced over your shoulder at her, finding her eyes travelling over your body, the exact way they had when you’d opened the door to her. A flush of heat went through you, understanding making the whole thing so much more heightened.

You tugged her into another kiss, short and intense, watching the way she seemed to become dazed when you pulled back.

“You better get me home,” you told her, “because I plan on showing you exactly how hot I find you. And showing you how thankful I am for you helping me.”

“She was wrong you know,” she said, hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb running along your bottom lip.

“What?” you asked.

“There is no one better than you. And you’re worth about a million of her,” she said, “way too good for her.”

You felt your heart melting. She tucked some of your hair behind your ear, fingertips lingering on your jaw.

“She doesn’t even compare.”

The next kiss you pressed to her lips was soft, the kind that was heartfelt and sweet, almost sickeningly so.

“Okay, get in. I’m taking you home now or I’m gonna have to fuck you against my car and that guy over there is still watching us like we’re free porn,” she whispered in your ear, making you press your thighs together, “and I’m want you all to myself.”

You slid into her car, smiling sweetly at her. The heated look you got in return only made you sure you had made the right decision by asking her to help you.

The next morning, waking to her lips trailing down your body, you thought you should send a thank you note to your ex. Without her, you might never have ended up telling Melissa how you felt. And then you might never have won the most amazing woman you’d ever met. She deserved at least a thank you note for making you the happiest person alive.

[zombholic]

DATING MECHANIC ABBY HCS — abby anderson

description — mechanic!abby, fem!reader, modern au, no post outbreak, sfw & nsfw, MDI.

— One thing Abby never lets happen is your car breaking down on you, she always keeps everything in check, oil change, new battery, brake pads, everything.

— She definitely drives a ram truck, her car is big like her its the perfect combination unlike your car, she refuses to get in your car with how small it is, she physically cannot fit in it and hits her head on everything.

— Since she keeps your car in check you keep little things like doing her nails or hair, with all that grease on her its the bare minimum to give your hard working girlfriend a manicure, shave down her calluses sometimes if she’s being nice she’ll let you paint them.

— Abby makes very good money off being a mechanic and she loves nothing more than spoiling her favorite girl, if she sees your eyes linger on something for too long she will surprise you with it a couple days later.

— She loves taking you out on dates, nothing fancy since it not your guys vibe but she loves sitting next to you especially if its a booth and she’ll have her arm wrapped around your waist or her hand caressing your thigh in a loving manner.

— You love to show up to her work with lunch in hand, the main reason you love it is because you get to see her in her muscle tee, sweaty with grease all over her, it does something to you.

— Her crooked smile becoming toothy when she sees her future wife showing up to her work, she could never get sick of you.

— Abby definitely bought an engagement ring a year into you two dating, nothing big just a small sliver ring with a tiny diamond, she knows you don’t like anything too extravagant.

— You wanted to beat the u-haul lesbian stereotype but not even a couple months into dating she asked you to move into her apartment with her, she made it clear that she was going to pay for everything.

— You hated that she was so keen on paying for everything instead you would just spoil her with her favorite things, create little baskets for her and occasionally buy her something expensive that she will beg you to return because she hates when you spend so much on her.

— Whenever there’s an argument between you two, you being the hothead likes to say things in the heat of the moment, she knows not to take it to heart but god you’re so mean.

— Usually she would just tell you to take a breather and leaves to drive around, cooling down herself. When she returns she has takeout for you two you’re quick to embrace her tightly tears threatening to spill out from the guilt. She forgives you every time because she loves you so badly it hurts.

— Mechanic Abby is a sweetheart, she’s oh so gentle with everything and everyone, she’s popular with a lot of people always being the social butterfly and theres you who hates anything and refuses to socialize with people unless its your close friends.

— Black cat and Golden retriever couple.

— She’s definitely a couple years older than you and you love calling her a milf even though shes not, you always joke around telling her she would be a great dad, she gives off dad energy.

NSFW mdi NSFW mdi NSFW

— Abby is such a soft dom, she will take her sweet time having sex with you, hands all over your body, kissing every curve and crevice, admires you like the goddess you are.

— When she’s eating your aching pussy she laps up your juices, her tongue going deep inside your seeping cunt her nose applying pressure to your sensitive clit. She could drink you all up if she could so she makes you cum until you’re pushing her head away from you, legs trembling but her grip on your thighs were going to leave bruises.

— She loves having you in missionary, especially with your beautiful legs over her shoulders as her cock is deep inside your cunt, she’s slow and gentle with her thrusts her hand wrapped around your shin as she’s kissing your leg, her eyes trained on the way your face contorts so angelically.

— If you beg her enough she’ll have her hips slapping against yours at an ungodly speed, her nails dug into her back, arms, tugging so tightly at her roots.

— She loves talking so sweetly to you.

“This good baby?” She has her strap hitting every aching spot inside your clenched pussy, basically drooling all over her dick.

All you could do was nod your head pathetically, eyes half lidded trying to maintain the eye contact she demanded you to have, her hands cup your smaller ones pining them over your head as she leans in to pepper your lips with soft kisses.

“Look so pretty taking my cock like that sweet girl.” You feel her smile into the kiss, she decides to pick up her pace, grabbing your thighs and pushing them against your chest.

Her focus is now on the way your pussy was swallowing her thick cock, the way you clenched around her made her brain go static she could swear up and down she could feel it.

— Abby definitely will have you ride her in the backseat of her pickup, her hands on your hips which she calls love handles, she’ll pick you up and slam you back down until you’re crying for her to slow down.

— She is an expert at aftercare, she’ll be quick to get a warm bath ready, scoop you up bridal style as you both got into the tub, she has your back against her chest as she whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

[harringtonstilinski]

Lover - Stiles Stilinski (Smut)

Author: @harringtonstilinski Characters: Stiles Stilinski x Reader Word Count: 5,141 Warnings: tiniest bit of angst, fluff, Smut: no | yes; protected piv (i'll always do this), praise, oral (f receiving), slight overstimulation, slight dirty talk, slight moment of doggy style, squirting, Requested: Yes. I hope this meets your expectations, and I'm so sorry it took me forever to get this out!! A/N: Hi, friends! We got another Stiles fic, and we're getting nasty!! I hope you like this! If you do, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

Stiles Stilinski. Your twin brother’s best friend. The guy you’ve had a crush on for forever. He’s had feelings for you, as well, but chose not to act on it. He masked it with a crush on Lydia and then dated Malia. It made you sad seeing him and Malia kissing and all that, and in turn… it hurt him. 

It hurt him because his best friend’s feelings got hurt on his account. So, he decided then that he didn’t want to be with Malia anymore if it was making his best friend hurt. Of course, Malia wasn’t too thrilled that he was putting his best friend over his girlfriend, but in time, she came to understand… plus, she had mad feelings for someone else.

Stiles had stood on your doorstep, waiting for you to come down after your mom had answered the door. With tear stricken cheeks, you had stood in front of your best friend, listening to him explain everything before giving him the biggest hug.

“You didn’t have to break up with her, though,” you had said.

“Eh, she had feelings for someone else, anyway,” he replied.

Looking at each other, you both smiled and said Theo’s name at the same, laughing at the fact that you both were completely in sync.

That was three months ago.

Today, you, Scott and Stiles were standing in the living room of your first ever college apartment, looking around at the furniture that your mom and Stiles’ dad brought up. They stayed until the bedrooms were a little bit put together, the living room furniture was up, and most of the pizza was eaten.

With a big smile on your face, you stretched your arms out, saying, “Can you freaking believe it?! Our own apartment!”

The boys chuckled, adjusting their ballcaps. 

Slapping your hands on the other part of your thighs, your smile fell. “You aren’t excited? We’re gonna be living without our parents for the first time in our lives!” At seeing their eyebrows meeting their hairlines, you sighed loudly. “Okay, fine. Don’t be excited. I am gonna get a slice of pizza and head to my new bedroom to be excited… alone!”  

You heard chuckles behind you as you closed your new bedroom door. Leaning against it, you sighed to yourself. Sure, you saw yourself living with Stiles and Scott, but… more so Stiles… alone… as a couple.

Scott and Stiles had sat down on the couch, TV turned on to the latest Mets game for Stiles. He looked towards the hallway where the bedrooms were, quietly releasing the deep breath he had taken.

“Don’t worry,” Scott said. “She’ll come around.” Looking back at his best friend, Stiles replied, “What are you talking about?”

Chuckling, Scott threw his head back before looking at Stiles to say, “I can smell the chemosignals all over the both of you. I don’t see why you never asked her out.”

“Uhm, because she’s your sister and I didn’t want you to kick my ass,” Stiles spoke. “Plus, I know for a fact she doesn’t like me like that.”

“How do you know?”

“Because all she does is talk about some guy in our class and how happy he makes her.” Stiles looked down at his lap, messing with his fingers. “She’ll never see me as anything but her twin’s best friend.”

Without missing a beat, Scott replied, “You underestimate her too much.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, looking at this best friend, eyebrows drawn together.

“I can literally smell the chemosignals on the two of you. It’s quite annoying, actually.”

Sighing, Stiles tilted his back on the couch. “What should I do then?”

“I don’t know,” Scott said. “Maybe talk to her? You never know what she’s thinking unless you actually have a fucking conversation with her.” He looked over at his best friend before sighing. “Look, I know she’s my sister, and I’m okay with the two of you pursuing… whatever. Just make sure that I’m your best man at the wedding. And… take it slow.”

All Stiles could do was nod his head and look back towards the hallway, not knowing that you were sitting at your door, listening to every word that was said between your brother… and your crush.

~~~

“Stiles, quit.” Silence for a moment. “Stiles. Quit.” Another moment of silence. “Stiles!”

“What’s going on?” Scott asked.

“Stiles won’t quit messing with me,” you said, typing on your laptop. “I’m trying to focus on my work and he won’t quit doing one of two things; poking me or throwing popcorn.”

“What are you? Five?” Scott asked.

You looked at your twin, softly smirking at the death stare he was giving his best friend. “Would you quit fucking messing with her? She’s got a paper due tomorrow.”

Stiles looked at you, eyes narrowed as you stuck your tongue out at him. “You’re such a child.”

“You’re the one who won’t leave me alone!” you exclaimed. “Don’t you have your own work to do for your classes?”

Leaning back, he tossed a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “Finished it all.”

“Uh-huh. And what about your criminal justice class?” you asked, an eyebrow cocked.

All movement from Stiles stopped as he quickly thought about it, jumping up from his seat, spilling all the popcorn from the bowl he had in his lap onto the floor in his haste to get into his room to finish his homework.

You looked at Scott, as he slowly looked over his shoulder at you before the two of you couldn’t control your laughter. At the sound of Stiles’ voice yelling at the two of you to shut up caused your laughter to come out even harder, the spazz smiling to himself at hearing the one sound he loved more than anything; your laugh.

~~~

Papers were all over the table, your third cup of coffee almost empty, empty take out containers where papers weren’t, a loud sigh coming from one of you every few minutes. Finals were in a few days, so the three of you were studying your asses off, needing to pass these finals before the Spring semester.

You went to take another sip of your coffee before you realized the cup was empty. Groaning, you got up from the table, looking at your brother and best friend. “You guys good on coffee or do you need more?”

At the same time, Scott and Stiles looked into their cups, Scott holding his up. “I’ll take another cup.”

Reaching for his cup, you took it from his hand, looking over at Stiles, who was already making to stand. He looked at you and nodded with his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Your hands would be full. Come on.”

You watched his back as he retreated the few feet to the kitchen, your feet moving when he looked back at you, the coffee pot in hand. Once you were by his side, you looked at the pot, grimacing, “I need to make more.”

“I got it,” he said, already moving to pour the rest of the coffee into your cup.

You couldn’t help but look at his profile as he moved, the tension in your body almost becoming apparent. A throat clearing had you looking at Scott, his lip up in disgust the smallest bit. What you didn’t notice was Stiles turning his head over his shoulder to look at his best friend before putting his eyes back down on you, letting the moment take over as he leaned in a little closer.

Your mouth dropped open, forgetting for a moment Scott was sitting in the next room. He shook his head, looking back down at his papers, going back to studying. Sighing to yourself, you looked back at Stiles, seeing his eyes already on you. But what shocked you about looking back at him was the fact that he was so close to you, your lips almost brushed together.

Taking a shaky breath, you closed your eyes, not wanting this to be the moment you finally kissed Stiles. You watched each other for a moment, eyes dancing between the others eyes and lips before you closed your eyes, readying yourself.

Stiles was more than ready to be with you, but because of Scott, he didn’t want to do that to his best friend by dating his sister. It didn’t matter that Scott basically gave him the okay to date you. Stiles felt that he would be, almost betraying Scott by being with you.

The moment you were waiting for never came, however, as Stiles had moved back to his seat, going back to studying. As he sat down, he mentally beat himself up about not kissing you. You cleared your throat, turning to walk to your room, where you pressed your back to your door and slid to the floor, trying to control your breathing.

~~~

“This is the stupidest movie I’ve ever seen.” “It’s not stupid.”

“Yes, it is.”

“How?”

Stiles looked at you as you challenged him, your brows raised. He sighed and said, “It’s about a ship sinking!”

“It’s more than just about the ship,” you said. “Titanic is a classic! It’s a love story while also being about the sinking of the ship.”

“I know what it’s about,” Stiles deadpanned. “You’ve made me watch it a million times. I don’t want to watch a movie about a sinking ship. I’d rather watch–”

“I’m not watching Star Wars,” you interrupted.

“Star Wars is a classic!” he exclaimed. “More of a classic than Titanic.”

Looking from him back to the television, you raised a brow and said defiantly, “We’re finishing this movie.”

“No.”

“Then go in your room and watch your stupid movie while I watch mine.”

“So, you admit that this movie is stupid.”

“No! I’m admitting anything because it’s not.”

“But you just said–”

“I was talking about Star Wars.”

Smirking, Stiles said, “Yeah, sure,” before lightly shoving you. “I’m just messing with you.”

Shoving his hand from your shoulder, you mumbled to yourself, eyes back on the television in front of you. A few moments later, you jumped a little to your left, swatting Stiles’ hand away. “Stiles, quit.” Another light poke to your side as you tried not to smile. “Stiles, please.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re worse than Scott,” you said, screaming at the end when Stiles full on started a tickle attack on your sides. “Please!! Stop!! Stiles!!”

The smile on his face grew from ear to ear, Stiles loving the way you laughed when you were amused, especially in this moment. Since the two of you were sitting up against the back of the couch, he had pulled you into him, his fingers never stopping their attack.

“Stiles, please stop, it hurts!!” you said, your laughter dying out. 

He made quick to stop his attack on your sides, your head laying on his shoulder. You closed your eyes, sighing before you opened your eyes again, tilting your head back to look at him, the angle giving you sight of his chin.

Stiles tilted his head down, causing you to laugh a little. “What?” he asked.

Reaching up, you poked under his chin. “That gave you a double chin.”

He gently grabbed your hand, bringing the palm of your hand to his lips, the movement causing your breath to hitch. Locking eyes with you again, Stiles knew that he wanted this moment to be the one he kissed you. 

The moment, however, was interrupted by the deadbolt on the door unlocking, Scott walking through not a moment later. 

You glared at your brother, sending a death stare as you stood up. “You’re a fucking moment ruiner, you know that!” You walked to your room, slamming your door shut, falling face first onto your mattress, your muffled groans reaching Scott’s ears as he stood in the living room with Stiles still sitting on the couch, hands on his face.

“What happened?” Scott asked, confused. 

Sighing loudly, Stiles wiped his hands down his face, resting his hands on his thighs. “I think we were about to kiss and then you walked in.”

“Really?” Scott’s tone was almost one of… incredulity. “You were really about to kiss her?”

With an exasperated sigh, Stiles stood to look at his best friend. “Yes, Scott. I was. A perfect moment ruined.”

“Don’t let me ruin it,” Scott said, calmly. He knew exactly what was going on with the two of you. “Just snatch her up before someone else does.”

~~~

Finals were finally done, and you couldn’t be more than happy at that fact. You were laying on your couch, almost asleep when a knock was heard on the apartment door. Groaning, you got up to answer it, opening the door to see none-other than Malia standing on the other side, a smile on her face. 

“Hey,” she said, trying to look in your apartment. “Is Stiles here?”

“No, he’s out celebrating with Scott,” you replied. “Why?”

The look she gave you almost stunned you. She was looking at you like you should’ve known why she was there. “Because we have a date? He was supposed to come pick me up, but called me and said to wait here for him.”

“Yeah, he’s not here, sorry. Plus you guys broke up, sorry, bye!” you rushed out, closing the door in her face. Leaning against the door, you heard her sigh and walk away, muttering something about you being a bitch or something.

You didn’t care as you laid back down on the couch, the door opening about an hour later, waking you from your sleep, not realizing you actually fell asleep.

The sound of Stiles’ laugh had you tilting your head to the side, trying to see who or what he was laughing at. Scott followed in behind him, saying something completely stupid that Stiles laughed even harder at.

“What are you two girls laughing about?” you asked, moving your arms behind you to rest on your elbows. You looked right at Stiles, lifting your eyebrow in what you hoped was a seductive way.

Watching as he visibly gulped, you smiled to yourself, bringing a leg up to bend at your knee, moving it side to side. “What’s wrong, Stiles? Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re gonna wish my tongue catches something,” he retorted.

That stopped all movement coming from you, a shocked expression on your face as you sat up to cross your legs. Deciding to play his little game, you rested your elbows on your knees, resting your chin on your laced fingers. “And what would your tongue catch?” “Your c–”

“Let’s end that conversation!” Scott exclaimed. “I need to hear that information.”

Snickering, you looked at your twin, asking, “What’s wrong, Scott? Don’t wanna hear about your best friend thinking sexually about your sister?”

Scott put a hand to his forehead, not believing this line of questioning was happening as he groaned.

“Because Stiles, here, has mas-”

“Let’s not,” Stiles rushed, a little louder than normal. “I agree with Scott. Let’s not talk about this.” He quickly walked past the couch you were occupying, a chuckle from you as he did. Stiles closed his bedroom door, pressing his back to it, his head thudding on the wood behind him. He didn’t want that secret about him getting off to the thought of you getting out there for Scott to know.

What Stiles didn’t know was that you got off to the thought of him. You didn’t know him nor Scott to know it was an almost every night thing. The same being the case for Stiles. You decided to form a plan, a devilish smile crossing your face as you stood up on the couch to climb over it.

Scott noticed the look on your face, following behind you as you made your way to your room. “Sis, what are you doing? I know that look.”

“Forming a plan,” you stated simply. Going to your dresser, you pulled the drawers out, looking for an outfit with a seductive vibe to it. Once you found it, you turned your back to Scott, smiling to yourself before moving into your closet to retrieve your silk robe.

“What kind of a plan?” Scott raised an eyebrow, curious as to what you were up to. As he silently took a deep breath, he got his answer in the form of your chemosignals. “Gross.”

Poking your head out of your closet, your hair fell over your shoulder. “What gross?”

Scott turned around, hands up in surrender by his head as he walked towards your bedroom door. “I’m going to Allison’s. I don’t want to be here when you’re screaming Stiles’ name.”

You gawked at him, not sure what to do with that information. After a moment of standing there with your mouth open, you looked back into your closet, shrugging your shoulders. Putting on the lingerie, you weren’t sure if you felt comfortable in it, but you shrugged, putting the robe on before walking out of your room.

Walking to Stiles’ room, you knocked on the door, the spazz stopping all movement from the other side of the door before he answered, “Yeah?”

“Hey, Stiles, I was thinking of watching a movie,” you said. “Wanna watch with me?”

He got up from his bed, almost tripping on his shoes as he replied, “Yeah, sure. What movie?”

“42. That movie about Jackie Robinson?”

“Y-yeah, I’ll watch it. Get everything ready? I’ll be out in about five minutes.”

“Perfect.” You smiled to yourself, walking into the living room to look for the DVD, knowing damn well Stiles purchased it the moment it was released on disc. Once you found it, you turned on the TV and the DVD player, putting the disc in the player.

After the DVD’s menu came up, you turned on your heel and walked to the kitchen, getting all of yours and Stiles’ favorite snacks and drinks. Bringing them back to the living room to set them on the table, you had a smile on your face, hopeful that this plan of yours would work. You sat on the couch, bringing a blanket to your lap, careful to cover your legs and bringing it up to your chest, getting all warm and cozy. 

The menu played for about four or five rounds before you started to get a little tired. Sighing, you laid your head back on the couch, your eyes closing of their own accord. Tapping on your forehead had you slowly opening your eyes, seeing Stiles above you.

“Hey, sorry,” he whispered. “It took longer than I thought.”

You sighed angrily, removing the blanket from your body before you got up from the couch, revealing your robe to Stiles. 

He took a sharp intake of breath at the lingerie that had poked through a little when you started to walk back to your room. With a confused look on his face, Stiles watched you walk, asking, “Hey, wait. Aren’t we gonna watch the movie?”

“Watch it by yourself,” you answered, a tad aggressively. You went to slam your bedroom door shut, but Stiles stopped it. 

“What the hell is the matter? Why are you angry?”

You huffed a laugh, resting your hands on the footboard of your bed. “This was such a fucking dumb idea.” Looking at him, your eyes burned with disappointment and anger. “I dress up in this stupid ass lingerie to try and make you all - I don’t know - hot and bothered, but instead I kind of get stood up by my best friend. The very best friend standing here, gawking at me. The very best friend I have the stupidest crush on.”

Stiles smirked a little, walking into your room and shutting the door. “You have a crush on me?”

Scoffing, you stood up straighter, turning your body to face him as you said, “You’re fucking dumb. I’m in love with you, but you’re too fucking blind to see it. I mean, going to Lydia’s three times a week when I’m dressed in sweats and a sweatshirt? The fuck is that about?”

Hanging his head, Stiles sighed a deep sigh before looking at you, a flash of anger in his own eyes. “You think I go to Lydia’s? I don’t. I sit outside the apartment door or in the quad to think… and to also calm my fucking dick down.”

“So you admit it?”

“Admit what?”

“You’re in love with me.”

“I have been for years. You’re just too blind to see it.”

“So now you’re calling me blind?”

“That’s–” Stiles took a deep breath, releasing it. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying, Stiles?”

He didn’t say anything; he just looked at you and acted on instinct. Reaching for your cheeks, he cupped them and brought your lips to his. 

You knew exactly what he was doing before he knew. When you felt his lips on yours, you reacted quickly, kissing him back with just as much fervor. Teeth and tongues clashing and fighting for dominance before you felt yourself being lifted off the floor, your back meeting the mattress.

“Since you’re half naked anyway, I won’t have much to take off,” Stiles said, removing his own flannel and tshirt. “Take the robe off.”

You sat up, doing as you were told, taking the robe off. Staring at Stiles, you couldn’t help but feel just the slightest bit insecure until he walked closer to you, gently cupping your cheek with a small family on his face. “What are you smiling at, Stiles?” you whispered.

“You,” he simply stated. He crawled on the bed, hovering over you as you gently laid back on the mattress. With a soft whisper only you could hear, he said, “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment.”

Smiling, you rested your hands gently on the sides of his head, basically cupping by his ears. “Same here. Now, are you gonna fuck me or just hover over me?”

Stiles wasted no second or minute as he placed his lips on yours. Both of you moaned as your tongues touched, the teenage boy above you fighting for dominance. As the two of you made out like horny high schoolers, you undressed each other, your hands running down Stiles’ lean abs.

“Damn,” you breathed. “I knew you played lacrosse, but I didn’t think you’d get abs from it.”

“Blame it on Finstock,” Stiles chuckled.

“Oh, I won’t blame him. I’ll go back to Beacon Hills and thank him.” 

Stiles laughed harder at that, pressing his lips back on yours. Once he got a look at your naked form, the fire in his eyes was evident; he wanted this, he wanted you. “God, you’re stunning.”

You smiled a little at his praise of you, keeping that same smile on your face as you watched him kiss his way down your stomach, getting onto his knees at the edge of the bed and pulling you closer. “Stiles,” you whispered. “Do something.”

It didn’t take the spazz not a moment later to put his mouth on your hot and wet core, your head pressing into the mattress more as he lapped, licked and kissed at your cunt. Moans of his name were spilling out of your mouth like a prayer, one of your hands cupping one of your breasts while the other went to Stiles’ hair, keeping him in place.

Stiles loved the reaction he was getting from you, a smile on his face as he felt your hips bucking, your pussy gliding along his tongue as you started to chase your high. When he inserted two fingers into your core, he moaned at the warmth he felt, wanting to feel it with his cock instead.

“Mmmm,” you moaned, eyes closed. “M’so close.”

Taking his mouth off your pussy, Stiles’ eyes stayed locked on his fingers pumping in and out of you. “Come on, baby. Cum for me. Let go.” Once he heard your loud moan, he put his mouth back on you as you came, feeling your cunt squeeze his fingers. He replaced his fingers with tongue, lapping all that you were giving him.

When your high came down, you had to almost push Stiles off of your core as it was becoming a little oversensitive. “Okayokayokay.” You breathed, bringing your hands to your hair as Stiles kissed his way back up your stomach and the valley of your breasts. 

“You did so good,” Stiles whispered, kissing your cheek. “I’m also very hard for you right now.”

You chuckled, pressing your lips on his, feeling his hardened erection on your sensitive core. Gasping, you screwed your eyes shut, a small and quiet whimper coming from your throat.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asked, quietly.

“Hm,” you hummed. “A little sensitive. Your tip is pressing at my entrance.”

Stiles looked down, seeing that his tip was, indeed, pressing at your entrance. He looked back up at you, smoothing your hair down next to your temple. “Can you give me one more?”

Nodding, you sighed. “I could give you a hundred more if you asked.”

“Shshshshit,” he muttered, sitting back on his knees. “W-were are your condoms?”

“Scott has some in the bathroom, top right drawer,” you answered, confused. You brought yourself up on your elbows, looking at him with furrowed brows. “You don’t have any?”

He thought about it for a moment, giving off that I have an idea look he sported a lot in high school before closed his eyes and sighed, getting off the bed and going to your door. Poking his head out after he opened the door, he checked to make sure the coast was clear before booking it to his room, a laugh sounding from your throat as you laid back on the bed.

When he returned, you lifted your head to look at him, a smile on your face as he had walked back in mid-laugh. “What’s so funny?” You shoot your head, saying, “Nothing,” with a smile on your face, watching as he rolled the rubbed onto his cock.

“Ready?” he asked, gently guiding the head of his cock through your still wet folds to gather your arousal on him. When he looked back at you while you were nodding, he gently pushed himself in, a groan coming from the both of you. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

“Stilessssssss,” you moaned. 

As he pulled back a little, you shivered, your slightly sensitive core still recovering. The shiver was also from pleasure, loving the way he was stretching you out.

“You’re so fucking big,” you groaned, looking into his eyes. “I love the way you feel inside me. I never want you to leave.”

“I don’t want to leave your pussy, either,” he whispered, pushing back at a slow pace. He kept this pace up, not wanting to really overstimulate you, but your hands roaming down his back told him otherwise.

“Faster,” you whispered.

“But you’re–”

“I don’t care. I need to feel you. All of you. Gimme everything you’ve got.”

The two of you stared into each other's eyes, looking for any signs of hesitation. When Stiles didn’t see any in your eyes, he nodded his head and quickened his pace, moans spilling out of you as he fucked you into almost oblivion.

He pulled out of you and flipped you onto your stomach, whispering for you to get onto your hands and knees. Once you were in position, he pushed his cock back inside of you, a happy sigh from you as your head dipped down.

More and more moans were spilling from the two of you; you being the loudest. Once Stiles felt his orgasm coming on, he stopped his thrusts, putting his hands on your stomach to pull your back to his chest.

You rested your head on his shoulder, turning your head so that your nose could touch his neck as his thrusts started again, one of his hands gliding down your stomach to your clit, where he started to draw circles.

“F-f-f-f-f-f-fuck!” you all but screamed. “Don’t stop. I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me, baby,” he whispered, his lips meeting your forehead. “Cum again for me.”

Just as both of your orgasms hit at the same time, Stiles held onto you so you wouldn’t collapse onto the bed. He was still thrusting into you, your hand going over his, a sign he’d learned for him to not stop what he was doing.

You felt as if you were going to cum again, and you voiced as such. Just as Stiles pulled out from you, clear liquid spilled from your core, a scream coming from your throat that had Stiles spilling another load into his condom. 

He helped you lay down on the bed as your body shivered. “Holy shit. You squirted.”

“I didn’t know I could do that,” you chuckled.

Stiles returned the laugh, bending to press his lips against yours.  “I’m gonna go get cleaned up and then I’ll come back and help you, okay?”

You felt like you couldn’t say a word, so you nodded, sighing when his lips quickly pressed to yours.

Stiles walked out of the room and into the bathroom across the hall. He grabbed a baby wipe you had for your monthly’s, wiping himself off after he removed the condom. After he wrapped the baby wipe around the condom, he threw it into the trash, grabbing a washcloth from the drawer to wet with some warm water. 

He left the cloth on the bathroom counter while we went to get a shirt, some boxers and pajama pants on. Once he was dressed, he grabbed the washcloth from the bathroom and went back into your room, where he noticed your sleeping form.

Gently cleaning your core, he didn’t want to wake you, although you stirred at the feeling of something rubbing against you again.

“No more orgasms,” you whined. “I can’t take any more.”

Stiles chuckled, setting the folded washcloth on your dresser as he went into your underwear drawer to retrieve a pair. “Don’t worry. You’re gonna have another one tonight.” Next, he went into your pajama drawer, grabbing out a pair of shorts before walking back to you.

He helped get you dressed, giving you the shirt he was wearing before your sexcapades. The two of you laid in your bed under the covers, Stiles on his back with you cuddled into his side. 

“That was amazing,” you whispered. “I’ve never had sex that great before.”

Stiles lightly chuckled, kissing your hairline. “There’s more where that came from, lover.”

It was your turn to chuckle, resting your hand on his chest. “I like it when you call me that.”

“Call you what?”

You tilted your head back to look at him, smiling as you said, “Lover.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2:  hi, friends! this one was my first time adding praise & squirting into a smut piece! should i do it more? let me know what you thought about! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Notes: yes, a dvd player is mentioned because i'm a thirty year old millennial who's fucking nostalgic. okay? lol

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak​

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

Italics wouldn’t let me tag!

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of Jeff Davis.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on October 22, 2023

[ourautumn86]

Hey so could u write smth where reader is about to shower but like has a breakdown abt feeling insecure of her body and Ellie comforts her, could be smutty if u want! (Pls include stretch marks as an insecurity bc I've been feeling so insecure abt mine lately and I have them everywhere😭 my hips, thighs, stomach, boobs even!)

a/n; okay but think about how soft and reassuring she’ll be…

perfectly imperfect

ellie williams x insecure reader

cw; a lil of angst, crying, insecurity about weight and body, fluff, kisses and ellie being the best girlfriend ever.

you felt tears swell in your eyes as you stared at your reflection. you hated what you saw, the fat that enveloped your body under skin, how it was scarred with stretch marks around your hips, belly and tits…

you bit down on your lip, feeling the knot on your stomach tighten. how could anyone find you attractive like this?

tears were falling down your cheeks when the door to your apartment swung open, ellie stepping in with recently bought groceries.

“babe?” she called out for you as she left them on the counter of the kitchen, not finding you anywhere before she heard the soft sobs coming from the bathroom. scared, in case you’d gotten hurt, she hurried to open the door, finding you completely naked and with reddish puffy eyes. “baby? what’s wrong?” she inquired, a frown of worry showing on her beautiful features. you cried against her chest, her arms carefully surrounding your body as if you were the most pressure thing she had ever touched —‘cause you were—. she shushed you, stroking you back. “talk to me pretty girl, you know i hate it when you cry.”

“i’m so ugly els, i hate myself.” her frown deepened.

“what are you talking about doll, you’re the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen.” you shook your head, her hands cupping your face, thumbs drying away your tears.

“i’m fat, and have stretch marks everywhere. how can you love me? there are so many beautiful girls out there… i’m just waiting for you to realize that and leave…” she hushed you, cutting you off.

“baby. i love you. and your body is beautiful. i love it. i love your little rolls and your beautiful stretch marks. they don’t change the way you look for me. you’re intelligent. and hot, and gorgeous and i couldn’t have wished for a better girlfriend.” she kissed your cheeks. “and i’m not gonna leave you. ever. you know that.” she pecked your lips.

“you promise?” you voice was broken, a thin line.

“i promise.” she nodded. “i can’t wait to love you ‘till the day i die. and if i have to remind you how beautiful you are every day i’ll do it. you’re perfect. look at you.” she turned you around so you could watch yourself, her hands caressing your sides. “so pretty and perfect for me…” she kissed your shoulder. “i love everything about you. you drive me crazy.” you smiled, leaning against her chest as she softly kissed your head. “want me to show you?” you looked into her emerald eyes, shining with determination. after you nodded she smiled. “come on.” she took of her own shirt. “let’s get in the shower, hm?”

ellie spent the whole afternoon taking care of you; after having washed your body with her own hands —kissing you every inch of your skin and praising you for how beautiful and breathtaking you were— and took care of your hair she had kissed every inch of your body and over your stretch marks, making your favorite meal and buying you your favorite treats, watching your favorite movie, doing face masks, brushing your hair, cuddling you to sleep…

and every few minutes she’d repeat: ‘you’re perfect. i love you.’

and then, every time you’d look at yourself you could hear it. and you’d say. “i’m perfect. i love me.”

‘cause you were perfect just the way you were.

[jjungkookislife]

Be My Valentine

❥ pairing: hfth!jungkook x f. reader

❥ genre: established relationship, college au, [18+]

❥ summary: You've got something special planned for your first Valentine's Day with your boyfriend

❥ wc: 1.3k

❥ warnings: food mention, lots of fluff, lots of kisses, Build-A-Bear date

❥ date: February 14, 2024

read part one here ♡

Jungkook couldn’t contain the smile that lit up his face when he saw you walking toward him. He was sitting beside Jimin at the cafe at your favorite table, right by the glass wall so you could people-watch. 

The weather was chilly for mid-February, the last dregs of winter hanging on. Snow flurries fell from the sky, melting before they hit the ground. 

Jimin was waiting for Taehyung to get out of class so the two could meet the rest of your friends at the bar near campus. 

“You’re the only one of us who has a date for Valentine’s Day. What are you guys doing?” Jimin asks, wiggling his brows suggestively. 

Jungkook shoved him playfully. “Shut up.”

Jimin laughs as he raises his coffee to his lips and takes a sip. 

Jungkook knows he has a minute or so before you arrive so he tells Jimin his plans for tonight. 

“I’m making her favorite dinner tonight. We’re decorating heart-shaped cakes for dessert, and I got her a locket with a photo Grandmother Jeon took of us when I asked darling to be my girl.” 

“Ooh, romantic,” Jimin sighs happily. “I’m sure she’ll love it all.”

Jungkook rises as you walk through the door. A smile appears on your face the moment you spot your boyfriend as he meets you halfway. 

He hugs you tight, kissing your lips as he takes your backpack off your shoulder. 

“I got you a hot chocolate,” he informs you as he pulls out a chair for you. 

Jimin waves when you sit down. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you greet as he hands you a brownie. “Thanks!”

“It’s the least I could do after you baked cookies for us,” Jimin grins. “They were delicious.”

“They were,” Jungkook agrees as he shows you his phone. 

A photo of the heart-shaped cookie that says ‘Be Mine’ is on the screen. 

“I assumed this one was mine,” he giggles as he leans in to kiss your cheek. 

“Of course not,” Jimin giggles. “It was for me.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes as his girlfriend laughs and shakes her head. “Sure, Min.”

“Knew it,” Jimin smirks as he grabs his belongings. “Well, I’ll leave you two alone. Have a nice evening and save me any candy or baked goods for tomorrow. We’ll hit the candy sales in the early morning.”

“Of course!” You nod enthusiastically. Jimin blows you a kiss and cackles when Jungkook intercepts it as he leaves. 

“Ready?” Jungkook asks once you finish your drink and brownie. You nod as you wipe your mouth with a napkin and clean up. 

Jungkook takes your hand in his, smiling when you shiver from the chilly air. 

The drive to Jungkook’s apartment is short. You get comfy as Jungkook takes out the ingredients for dinner. 

The two of you work effortlessly side by side to make dinner, sharing bites of food in between. 

After dessert, Jungkook hands you a small gift box with a pretty purple bow. He grins as he watches you tug on the ribbon, setting it aside before you lift the lid of the box.

“It’s beautiful!” You gasp when you see the locket nestled safely inside on a bed of velvet. 

“Open it,” Jungkook grins, too excited to contain himself. 

You open the locket and see the photo of you two kissing in the snow. You smile, wiping the few stray tears that roll down your cheeks. 

Jungkook helps put the locket on you. Your fingers trace the beautiful pattern as your heart flutters. 

Slowly, you turn to face Jungkook. His doe eyes sparkle when you smile at him, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that makes your toes curl. 

Three special words sit on your tongue heavily. You’ve wanted to say them for a few weeks now but the worry of rushing head first made you uneasy. Deep in your heart, you knew Jungkook was it for you. You’d never want anyone else. 

Jungkook cups your face, kissing your nose, your lips, your jaw, and finally where the locket rests on your skin. 

His touch is gentle, his kisses sultry as he restrains himself from saying what he wants to. Hell, he wanted you to move in with him the first night back home but you’d already spent money on your dorm for the semester and he didn’t want to rush anything. However, you would have gladly packed up and moved in if he had asked. 

You spend most of your nights in his bed anyway. 

Jungkook giggles when you boop his nose. He scrunches it when you do it again and by the third time, he’s gently nibbling on your fingertip. 

He should tell you.

He knows he should but fear wraps around him like tentacles ready to drag him into the dark abyss. Perhaps it’s not the right time but when is the right time to tell someone you love them?

Today? Tomorrow? Three months from now?

Jungkook shakes his head, pushing his thoughts away. 

“I scheduled us for Build-A-Bear tonight,” you surprised Jungkook, showing him the certificate. 

Jungkook’s face lights up, nearly running to the front door in his excitement. You giggle as you put your shoes on and your coat, kissing Jungkook’s cheek as he grabs his scarf and wraps it around himself. He grabs a matching one for you, kissing your nose when he’s done putting it on you. 

By the time you arrive at the store, Jungkook’s excitement has doubled. 

You head inside with him with his hand in yours. The two of you take your time picking out your stuffed animals. You head over to the machine to record a message. 

“You go over there and I’ll go over here,” you instruct as you take Jungkook’s voice box with you. 

Jungkook chuckles as he does as he’s told. He holds the voice box in his hand and clearly says, “I love you, darling.”

He’s nervous as he meets you at the stuffing center. You’re smiling brightly as you wait for your turn. Jungkook pulls you to him, careful not to jostle the bear in your arms. 

“I’m glad we’re here,” Jungkook whispers, kissing your cheek after. 

“I wanted you to have a special bear from me,” you smile, as you lean into him. 

Your turn comes and you’re handed a red heart and asked to make a wish before they take your bear and the heart to stuff it. 

Jungkook waits for his bear beside you before you head over to pick out matching outfits. 

Once you’re back at his place, Jungkook takes his bear out of his box while you do the same. 

“What did you record for me?” You ask with a smile as you hold your bear in your lap. 

Jungkook is nervous again, he can feel heat rush to his cheeks as he holds his bear to his chest. He’s about to speak when he accidentally squeezes his bear’s paw and your voice clearly says, “I love you, Jungkook.”

You squeal, covering your face. 

“You weren’t supposed to hear that yet!” You giggle, embarrassment evident in your tone. 

Jungkook chuckles, pressing the paw once more to hear the words again. His heart sings as he looks at you, setting his bear on the side. 

Slowly, Jungkook takes your hands off your face. He takes one of your hands in his and moves it to your bear’s paw. He makes you squeeze the paw, his cheeks rosy pink as his recorded voice says, “I love you, darling.”

Giddiness washes over you as you cup his face, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours. Jungkook melts into the kiss, butterflies swirling in his belly as you climb on top of him to straddle his hips. 

Your forehead pressed against his, a coy smile on your lips. “I love you.”

Jungkook doesn’t think there’s a better feeling than this. To love and be loved. 

“I love you, baby,” Jungkook whispers as he kisses you again, his hands on your hips as he drinks you in. 

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted and so much more, my love.”

© jjungkookislife - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms, this includes Youtube.