chuluoyi · 10 months ago
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LOVER'S QUARREL
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- fushiguro megumi x reader
“i can't do this anymore.” you and megumi are just too different; he's stoic, you're bubbly, he prefers solitude, you love being social. it starts with fights, words you don't mean, and ends with an event that would haunt him for a long time to come.
genre/warnings: angst, breaking up, post-breakup feelings, mentions and description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end (you make up!)
note: dear god i’m finally getting this out of my drafts. loosely inspired by real life events i’ve seen around my friend’s relationship sooo it might hurt a bit 🤏🏻 but who can say no to angst to eventual fluff? tagging @lees-chaotic-brain and @kasumitenbaz (as per request in the ask!), you two are always here for my megumi works, thank you!! :3 and thank you for dropping by for the event!
a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT
general masterlist
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Everyone pointed it out as a joke, that you liked him way more than he did you.
And you used to never let it ruffle you. To you, Megumi’s sternness and silence meant that he was comfortable with you. You never wanted him to change his ways just because now you were seeing each other.
But when you thought it over now, as you stood before him with an aghast expression and knives stabbing your kind, soft heart, you couldn’t help but do a double-take.
You were the one who confessed first. Most of the time, you were the one who initiated dates. You always texted him first, asking about his day, and even when he brushed you off, you would keep being this ball of sunshine and wished him a good day.
You never realized it before… that through everything, it has always been you. Unfailingly.
So how dare he spout this now?
“I can't do this anymore.”
"You... can't?" you spat out, feeling the first tendrils of anger course through you. "What exactly it is that you can't do? What do you even mean?"
"Look," Megumi stared at you squarely, and you thought now, that it was the coldest of eyes, straight and true. "It's always been like this between us lately. It's only right that we end this."
This, he said. He didn't even want to define your relationship anymore.
You scoffed. "And why do you think we always end up this way? Have you ever considered, even once, that it's because you make no effort at all?"
"I'm trying," Megumi quickly replied, almost in a hiss, and you almost recoiled. "But I just see that we'll end up nowhere, that's why I'm bringing this up now."
Oh, that freaking hurts. You boyfriend had just told you that this relationship would go nowhere. Right in your face.
Your eyes stung with tears, yet you fought to hold them back, fixing your gaze on the lamp overhead and inhaling deeply.
"You're... selfish," you stated, filled with ire. "You're always walking around eggshells around me, never telling me what is it that you really want—"
Megumi's unclouded eyes fixed on your trembling form. "We just disagree on a lot of things. You know it and it bothers you. It bothers me too. Rather than forcing our relationship, I think it's better—"
"It's always me!" you yelled then, lips quivering and eyes watering, unable to hold your emotions back any longer. "All dates, lunches—everything!" you locked your eyes with him, in mocking disbelief. "How can you say you're trying when, in truth, I'm the one putting in so much for us?!"
In that very second, Megumi thought that he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be the cheerful one in this relationship, and when he agreed to go out with you, he made an unspoken commitment to himself that he would at least not make you miserable.
And yet...
"...I'm sorry."
Came his reply, and you were sure that this was it.
And to rub the salt in your wound, he added, "I can't lie to you and say I haven't thought this for a while too."
As tears welled within you, you wondered and questioned what you lacked that led to this. However, the overwhelming sense of betrayal consuming your thoughts ultimately prevailed over any other emotions.
Now he could've appeared before you as a stranger and you wouldn't bat an eye, as the cold steel in his tone said, "And if blaming me is what it takes to make you feel better, then so be it."
You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden boldness, but in the next hot minute, you marched past him, your shoulder harshly colliding with his in a deliberate, almost spiteful manner—which, indeed, was your intention—and then you ran.
Which led to the next scene: you found yourself bawling your eyes out in the girls' lavatory.
Yuji and Nobara saw everything unfolding right before their eyes. They hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but you and Megumi were literally breaking up right the middle of their shared classroom, and it was hard not to follow the discourse until the end.
"Are you okay?" Nobara had come to your side, ensuring privacy by locking the restroom door out of your consideration. You were a sobbing mess, attempting to wipe the overflowing tears away while letting out all your emotions.
"He's..." Your voice faltered amid sobs as you gazed at your steadfast friend, your throat clogging up. "He said... he's been wanting t-to... break up with m-me..."
"That's okay, that's okay..." Nobara brought you to her arms, patting your back in reassurance. "Fushiguro is insensitive like that... don't cry over him now. He's just a wimp, okay?"
"Why is it me?" you asked her, voice brittle, still shaking with tears. "I t-tried everything! Being the supportive girlfriend..."
"If he can't appreciate what you did, then the problem lies with him," your friend stated, traces of irritation brewing in her resolute gaze. And as she firmly grasped your wrist, her next words resonated. "Not you."
. . .
"Do you really have to break her heart like that?" Yuji fidgeted with his hoodie, staring at his best friend with a blend of confusion and sympathy.
Megumi sighed, finally ruffling his hair into a mess, as if expressing his own state of mind. “This is for the best.”
Yuji’s eyebrows visibly creased. “How is this ‘for the best’? She’s miserable, and you…” he assessed him, scanning him from head to toe, “it doesn’t seem you’re faring any better too.”
“The longer she is with me, the unhappier she will be.” Megumi glanced at the bathroom’s direction. “She can deserve better.”
He was always too quiet, too boring, not able to match your energy too. He couldn’t fault you for expecting more, whereas he was just not exactly built for your expectations.
Megumi really thought he wanted it to end. At one point, it even felt like a chore, but…
How strange. Why did it feel like something was clawing at his chest?
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Time heals. Megumi knew that by theory, but he really did see it firsthand when he saw you all giggling and happy again three weeks after he initiated the breakup.
With Hakari.
“Yo, what are you glaring at?” Panda asked, but Megumi didn’t pay him any mind.
An upperclassman, Hakari Kinji, was naturally cool and talented. He was laid back, knew how to have fun—all in all, a total opposite of Fushiguro Megumi altogether.
Three weeks. It’s only been three weeks since then.
“Megumi?”
Wait… Aren’t three weeks too fast to get over your ex?
“Megumi!”
“Huh?” he turned to the sentient panda with a jerk. “Oh, what is it?”
He looked at him with a concerned gaze. "Why do you look so scary? It's almost as if you're about to punch someone..."
But who was he to argue? He had no right to be upset now.
"Is it Kinji?" Panda gasped, finally putting two and two together when he followed his line of sight. "Oh Megumi... but you—"
"Just shut up, please," he blurted then, a hint of annoyance in his tone. With that, Panda didn't pursue it further, leaving him with his thoughts.
From where he was at the field, he could clearly see your radiant smile for Hakari. It was clear that the two of you shared a degree of friendship, but Megumi never knew that you two were that close.
...huh?
Why did the sight irritate him so suddenly? Why did his chest twinge again?
What a fool. You're the one driving her away, you idiot.
Suddenly these memories popped up one by one—
Of you suddenly hugging him from behind in an attempt to surprise him.
How he pressed his lips on the crown of your head when you fall asleep on his shoulder.
How you would give him that dopey smile when he pulled you close.
But on harder days after missions gone wrong, he’d ignore you altogether— the slight disappointment in your smile then. How your expression fell when he told you to go. How you slumped and looked back in hopes of him changing his mind.
“Haaaah.” Megumi turned away, unwilling to keep watching you any longer. Why? Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now?
Why did he long for you now? Why not before, when you were still his?
They were right. It seems people tend to desire what isn't meant for them.
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What could have been more painfully awkward than being sent into a mission with your ex-boyfriend?
You would kill Gojo for this. Or at least give him the lowest possible score in his teaching evaluation for the year. How could he? Your breakup was an infamous public spectacle, so this setup was undoubtedly intentional!
You were losing your head over this, and yet your ex-boyfriend...
"Keep your guard up," Megumi reminded curtly, in a warning tone. He looked as vigilant and straight as always, as if he wasn't even bothered.
You threw him a dirty look, offended. "You don't have to tell me twice."
This just cranked up the discomfort to an excruciating level. The mix of unresolved tension and memories—okay, you might be an emo, but how were you supposed to be cool with all of these hanging in the air?
Your site of exorcism was an abandoned warehouse, and the cursed spirit in question was supposed to be a grade 3. You two were grade 2 sorcerers now, so you were a perfect fit to exorcise it. But there was indeed this unease in the air that you couldn't put your finger to.
"Isn't it awfully too quiet?" you unwittingly muttered, staring at the darkness of the wall. You couldn't feel any cursed energy belonging to any possible malevolent entity, and that was what unsettled you the most.
Megumi frowned at your line of sight. "It is. Stay close."
You blinked at what he said, and before you knew it, the familiar scent of him being near to you made your entire body burst with this equally familiar warmth. When you looked up to him, seeing the solid sharpness in that dark eyes of his and his jaw set, dead butterflies in your chest rose back to life again, against your heartbreak and better judgement.
Stay close, he said... So he is worried...
And in an attempt to hide how flustered you were, you looked down.
You walked a few good steps, when suddenly he asked, "So, are you with Hakari-senpai now?"
"Huh?" You spun around, your expression a mix of surprise and confusion.
"You two seem close."
Seem close? Seem close... wait, so Megumi had noticed...?
Suddenly, you felt incited and it made you angry. "That's none of your business," your voice carried a sharp edge, hissing. And you knew you were being a bit mean by adding, "You broke up with me, so why do you even care?"
In that moment, Megumi could've sworn his chest throbbed. Your cutting tone pierced directly into his heart, lodging itself there.
You had all rights to be annoyed, and he knew that. Why did that question even slip out of him?
"Nah, nevermind," he mumbled in response, looking away.
Awkwardness lingered afterwards. You hated this, but no, you weren't above being petty. He had broken your heart and it still stung even now. If your intentionally biting words did to him even a fraction of what he made you feel, then you would find a small sense of satisfaction in it.
But you weren't able to ponder about your mess of feelings further when Megumi abruptly yanked your arm, his voice soaking with urgency, "It's here!"
Sure enough, the grotesque cursed spirit with the shape of a giant bee broke through the walls with a bang. The two of you immediately readied your fighting stance. Megumi was ready with his divine dogs, while you with your cursed weapon.
For a while, you engaged the cursed spirit with all you had. You were trying to focus on the enemy, but you couldn't help but notice the way Megumi always looked at you every few seconds, checking for any signs of injury or harm.
Frankly speaking, he trusted your strength and knew that you were a capable sorcerer. You had been paired in a mission before and he knew both your potential and shortcomings. It was just there was something about this place that had his senses on high alert.
And his fears were proven true when you yelped and were flung onto the grimy floor. "Y/N!"
"I'm fine!" you shouted in a rush, scrambling to your feet. However, as you spun towards him, your scream tore through the hall as you caught sight of the bee lurking behind him. "Megumi!"
He got distracted. The bee quickly latched onto him and almost stung him, until he wrestled it off and summoned Nue and exorcised it.
You went to his side that instant. "Are you okay?!"
"I am." But then he winced and almost fell on his knees if you didn't have a secure grip on him. He savored your touch and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that now you two were safe.
"Megumi! Oh god!" Panic surged through you as you pulled him close. His side was bleeding, and you widened your eyes at the sight.
"I'm okay, I promise," he rasped, looking you in the eyes. "What abo—"
Then you saw it, the flicker from deep from that corner of platform, and suddenly, you grasped the source of the unease that had been lingering within you all this time. It wasn't the bee Megumi had just exorcised—
At that moment, there was no room for thought, one thing was certain: you didn't want him to get hurt more.
He didn't manage to finish his sentence when suddenly you pushed him away with so much force he never thought you had. Everything crashed so suddenly, he didn't have the time to brace himself or grab you with him, as another cursed bee appeared out of nowhere and—
Reality flashed before his eyes as he stared at you in sheer horror. At how the cursed spirit tore your body, sinking its hollow stinger in you.
You didn't really know what happened next. Everything was muffled—the frantic movements around you turned into a blur, along with Megumi's yells. Otherworldly pain coursed through your entire being and your ears rang, then everything in your line of sight became distorted and faded, along with your consciousness. Next and the last thing you knew was Megumi's battered face, a final imprint before you succumbed to the void.
Megumi had exorcised the remaining cursed spirit and staggered to his feet—falling a few times, but he made his way towards you through gritted teeth. You are hurt. He forced himself to get to you and pull you into his arms.
And suddenly, suddenly, nothing mattered anymore as overwhelming terror consumed him upon seeing you. Blood streamed from your abdomen so much that it made a continuous pool.
"You stupid—!" He choked out, voice hitching. You were no longer conscious and it devastated him even more. "Hey, hey? Wake up—hells—"
You, who did everything you could to save your relationship. You, who cried tears for him when he blatantly broke your heart. And you, who put himself first—and now facing the consequences.
It crashed upon him in that very second, the clarity. What was he thinking back then? He still loves you.
"If you die on me, I won't forgive you."
Megumi scooped you in his arms, pressing you close to his chest, the blood seeping from his wound be damned as he looked at your serene face. His heart shattered in the worst way possible and he almost wheezed at the sticky sensation of your blood—and how lifeless you felt in his grasp—but he willed it away.
"Don't," his broken rasp echoed the walls as he took each step to get both of you out of this hellhole. He winced and hissed at his own injury, chewing his lip in frustration, at how helpless he was.
"Don't leave me."
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It was like a distant, hazy memory.
Was it a memory though? No. It seemed far too real for that.
The throbbing headache pounding through your skull and shivers that wracked your body pulled you back to reality. There was a heavy pressure on your abdomen and any movement sent sharp pain shooting through you.
You gradually opened your eyes, squinting against the brightness. You were in a hospital gown, an IV was injected on your arm, and the sterile scent made your stomach twist, as nausea creeping through your guts. Your vision was still blurry as you tried to look around to find someone who waited for you. As you slowly turned your head to the side, you saw him, sitting in the chair right next your bed.
Megumi was sleeping in such uncomfortable position, his head resting on the edge of your bed. He appeared peaceful, almost childlike, devoid of his usual stoic demeanor.
Your heartstrings were tugged at this rare sight. He also sustained injuries and yet... he was waiting for you to wake up, here.
Your chest swelled with warmth, which was quickly followed by a sting of heartbreak. Still, you two broke up...
You jolted, and the inadvertent movement sent a wave of pain that seemed to paralyze your nerves, causing you to whimper. The noise woke Megumi from his slumber, as he shot his eyes open in alarm, catching your hand in his.
"Hey... Are you okay?" Megumi worriedly looked down at you with a visible frown, and the grimace of pain on your face, accompanied by trembling lips, was enough of an answer. He hastily scrambled out in slight panic, "I'll get Ieiri-san."
When Shoko came and got you the painkillers, your pain receded somewhat. Through it all, Megumi stood there, casting concerned glances in your way.
"Bedrest for the week," Shoko stated firmly, assessing your wound with a no-nonsense expression. "Your injury isn't minor—it's serious enough that you're strongly advised against excessive movement."
You could only nod in response. Megumi bowed. "Thank you, Ieiri-san." Once the doctor departed, silence settled over the room once more.
“Why did you do that?” he quietly asked then, referring to what you did for him. And when you turned to him, you saw it clearly.
He looked pale, and there was this haunted look in his eyes. It broke your heart a little.
"You were hurt." Your voice came out dry, and you realized firsthand just how parched you were. Seeing Megumi looking down never quite sat right with you. He was meant to be an unwavering presence, someone strong enough to sway your convictions.
However, a pang struck when he countered with stern eyes, "You didn't have to do that."
...he was right. You didn't have to. What he didn't know was that you were still holding on these stupid feelings, which drove you to shield him. It made you ponder: if your roles were reversed, would he not step in to protect you at all?
"Why are you here?" You weren't sure if the bitterness in your tone was evident, but you continued anyway. "You don't have to be here either."
"Don't have to?" His gaze bore disbelief, as if not believing your words. "I'm—"
"If it's because I saved you, Megumi—"
“Do not even think, even for a moment, that I won’t be concerned over you.” His voice, deep and hoarse, struck you to the core, silencing your words. “Never. I always, always want you to be safe.”
Your mind became a blank slate. Suddenly, all that mattered was his voice.
"Don't you realize how terrifying it was? Seeing you like that?" Megumi spat, his green eyes shining with intensity, teeth gritted and fists clenched. "How could you even think that I wouldn't be here—" his breath hitched, and then his lips trembled slightly, "—for you?"
You blinked quickly, a feeling stirred within you—stemming from that cursed, fragile heart of yours to be exact, evident from the rapid thumping in your chest.
You dumbly uttered, "But we are—"
"Oh, Goddamnit." Megumi cursed, and honestly you were taken aback. It wasn't really in him to swear, so this really bugged him. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and despite the situation, your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Even a mess in a hospital gown, your ex-boyfriend was still undeniably attractive.
He stared at you squarely in the eye, unflinching, steadfast and true, the very image of Fushiguro Megumi you admired from afar and fell in love with in the first place half a year ago. "You don't have to... say anything, if you don't want to. Right now... just hear me out."
And the things he said next... all of them, you could say, caught you entirely off guard.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not trying hard enough, and—damn it, for making you sad. I never, ever wanted to see you that upset."
Megumi drew in a sharp breath, averting his gaze. "And for days, I've wondered if you and Hakari-senpai are now a thing... and you know what? I hate it so much. I know I have no grounds to feel this way, after what I did, but..."
And like a train wreck, his final words hit you hard. Tears welled up in your eyes in immediate response.
“I'm a loser, and a coward too, maybe,” he shrugged, a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone. “And I suck at telling people my feelings, but I love you. I still do.”
A sob slipped out of your throat and you hastily pulled the blanket over your face, much to his surprise. He thought he had worsened things, with the way you were turning away from him.
But then, from beneath the blanket, in a croaky voice, you proclaimed, "Fushiguro Megumi, you're a complete and utter idiot."
And Megumi didn't know that he had been holding back his breath as he chuckled heartily, relieved that you would still take his ass back after this prolonged mess. He knew he still had a lot to make up for and was determined to show it through his actions.
"Maybe I am, yeah."
"That's possibly the longest shit you have ever spouted in one breath."
"Yeah..."
But he got his chance back, and he knew that you would be alright. Both of you are.
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On one sunny day...
"Hey, are you alone?"
Megumi glanced up from his phone, only to be met with a random girl standing in front of him, batting her eyelashes with an ambiguous intent. He blinked at her curiously.
"No. Can I help you?"
The girl twirled her hair suggestively. "Ah, you see... I see you all in your lonesome and I think you're quite cute—"
The hell? Megumi frowned, and he was really about to give this bimbo a piece of his mind when—
Oh, oh. Forget that. Megumi's attention snapped to you on the opposite side of the crossroad. All pretty and dolled up with that crop tee and miniskirt he once mentioned would look great on you by a slip of tongue—that accidental comment earned him your teasing quips for weeks already.
"Sorry, I'm here for my girlfriend. Bye."
Abruptly dismissing the girl, he didn't catch how comically offended she was for being turned down in a span of 20 seconds. He took big strides towards you, as you crossed the street, and you immediately beamed when you caught the sight of his face.
"Megumi!"
Ah, this is going to be a good day, he thought. As he gazed at your pretty face, and caught your hand in his, clasping it tightly, reveling in your scent and the warmth of your presence beside him—
He was content, and once again it dawned on him, that he likes you so, so damn much.
"Let's get started on our date, shall we?"
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sundrop-writes · 2 months ago
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Need
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Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader
Summary:
Daryl comes back from a run acting strangely needy, and you find out that Zach made him jealous. (You may have to thank Zach later.)
Or - Daryl fucks your brains out to prove to himself that you're his.
Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut/PWP. Set during early Season 4/The Prison Era.
Word Count: 3,000
The Walking Dead Masterlist | AO3 Link
Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.
Warnings: this is mainly a smut fic - the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; the reader and Daryl have a sexual relationship that skews slightly romantic; the reader's age is not at all specified; Daryl being very needy (hence the title); Daryl is more dominant the reader is more submissive, but there is no laid out rigid roles; Daryl is jealous and trying to 'claim' the reader after someone else makes sexual comments about her (when she is not around to hear those comments); mentions of Daryl drinking alcohol and smoking (does not take place during the fic, just a background element); some manhandling - from Daryl towards the reader (nothing unrealistic or beyond Daryl's known strength); oral sex - reader receiving (Daryl certified pussy eater); references to hunting/killing animals for food (come on, this is a Daryl fic); Daryl is slightly mean in this (he tells the reader to shut up) - but he's not vengeful or mean on purpose, he's just in a mood; spit kink - Daryl spits on the reader's pussy; pussy spanking (this was such a last minute addition and I am so glad I did); Daryl calls the reader 'woman'; overstimulation - towards reader; mention of the reader crying/having tears in her eyes (due to overstimulation); Daryl being very possessive due to his jealousy; hair-pulling - Daryl receiving; very slight anal play (Daryl tongues the reader's asshole - juust a bit); penis in vagina sex; unprotected sex - they don't use a condom and there are no mentions of other forms of birth control (don't be like them); there is no mention of Daryl cumming inside the reader, though because the fic ends before we get to his orgasm (sorry, Daryl); slight cockwarming; the sex gets rough toward the end; I believe that's it for this fic?
A/N: No, this was not the winner of the poll. But right now I am in a mindset for TWD fics because I have been watching the show and I think it's a good opportunity to get this one out of my drafts - especially because it's shorter and easier to edit. If it's not your thing, feel free to ignore it. Also, I am not doing a taglist for this one because a lot of people on the taglist last time did not follow my taglist rules (basically, they were tagged and they didn't show up to read the fic, so it feels like a 'why bother' type of situation). So I'm gonna clean out the taglist and after such a short time, I am considering quitting taglists altogether. Anyway, if you do read it, I hope you enjoy the fic.
...
Need. 
That was the only word you could use to describe Daryl in those moments as he threw you down onto the cot and ripped your pants off with record speed. The air was absolutely ripe with need, the likes of which you had never felt or seen from Daryl before. Especially not in this magnitude. 
Daryl Dixon was someone who rarely came off as needy. 
Since the two of you had started this relationship (it was strange to call it a ‘relationship’ when there was so little conventional romance to it, and so few words) - Daryl was never someone you would have described as ‘needy’. He was always the definition of calm. He was level-headed, quiet, reserved - even more so in the face of your intense needs. The more you became a puddle of melded need, when you boiled over into pure want, especially in his presence, the more he turned into a stone wall of uncrackable cold hardness that you wanted so desperately to see crack. 
It was a game the two of you had been playing since day one. And he hadn’t lost yet, not once. 
Of course, the sex was amazing - even if he never let that facade down. He made sure that your overwhelming, unhidden need always came first. He made sure that you had cum first - usually more than once - before he even considered sticking his cock inside of you or letting you drop to your knees in order to serve him. He was never selfish - a man that lived to serve, in fact. 
That was why it surprised you when he came back from a run that day and grabbed you by your arm, practically dragging you out to the admin block. It was a place that you and Daryl had set up a little nest for personal privacy in the old warden’s office. Daryl had chosen the location both for its privacy, and for the wonderful irony. 
He found it downright hilarious that he was someone who had been reprimanded by cops before the total collapse of society and had been nearly arrested half a dozen times (he liked to put the emphasis on nearly, because he was a fast runner and often disappeared into the woods where they didn’t care to chase him, in contrast to someone like Merle, who was a known drug dealer was of far more interest to them - and much slower). Daryl was someone who could have easily ended up in prison, and now he could sit behind a warden’s desk and smoke a stash of fancy cigars that he had found hidden, and he had polished off the fancy whiskey in between fucking you. 
And he took an even greater enjoyment in fucking you pinned against the warden’s desk - but for practical purposes, he had lugged a cot into the office and set up a more comfortable space for the two of you there. The two of you even slept there sometimes because he still refused to sleep ‘in a cage’ - as he put it. Everyone else in the prison liked to fake that they didn’t know where the two of you went, but really - they were just glad that your love nest was far enough away from everyone else that they didn’t have to be subjected to the sounds you and Daryl made. 
And you were glad that you didn’t have to pretend to go hunting in order to escape to the woods for some privacy. Especially because, even as capable as Daryl was, the threat of Walkers looming over your head while he fucked you did make it a bit difficult to get fully lost in the sensations. 
But all of that was far at the back of your mind while he shucked off his crossbow and tossed it aside carelessly (usually he was someone who was careful to put away his weapon, not wanting to damage it so that he wouldn’t have to waste precious time on repairs) - but today, there was something simply rabid about him. Something itching and impatient. 
You couldn’t deny that it turned you on, but you had to question what had caused the shift in him. Especially when all of your little games - your teasing, your flirting, your dirty words - hadn’t been able to crack him for months. 
“Daryl, what’s gotten into-?” 
You couldn’t even finish posing the question before he began ripping on the waistband of your pants once again. That tense irritability became potent in the air once again when the fabric got caught up in your boots, Daryl letting out a deep grunt and glaring at the obstacle. 
You reached for the laces in order to get everything off, thinking this was what he wanted, but he simply put two large, commanding, calloused hands on the backs of your thighs and shoved down - hard. He pinned you down to the cot with a tough force, something that made the metal of the supposedly temporary furniture squeal with a worrying sound. You almost didn’t hear it over the pitiful, whorish gasp that escaped your lips. 
He was never like this. He was never so desperate. 
You loved it. Your body was flooded by heat, equally as desperate within seconds. 
“Daryl!” You cried out, half confused, half hot red and turned on. 
Your cunt ached fiercely and clenched around nothing and Daryl locked eyes with that pulsing gash, letting out a pleased hum. There was barely a blink before he dove between his own hands, digging in his fingers in tightly where they held onto your quivering muscles and immediately he licked a long, hard stripe up the center of your pussy. 
Hungry. 
That was a word you would have used to describe Daryl many times before.
He was messy and shameless when he ate meals. You had seen him dig into game bloody and raw when he had taken you out hunting, when he was starving and impatient and truly treasured a fresh kill. 
Currently, that’s exactly what you felt like - a fresh kill, recently captured by him, a true prey animal under his grasp being absolutely devoured while you could do nothing more but lay there and take it. 
It felt utterly amazing. 
It felt like where you belonged. 
The room soon became filled with sounds - loud, adamant slurping as his tongue furiously worked over your cunt, creating the same kind of shameless slobber that he did when he was thoroughly enjoying a meal. Your gasps and moans shuddering through your lungs as the sensations rocked your body, the pitiful squeaking protests of the cot as Daryl leaned against you more, putting more weight on those rusting springs. 
He began moaning against your heated flesh while he continued to hold you down by your trembling thighs, and while your ears rang with blood and your face bloomed with heat, you soon realized that the distant, repeated keening sound you could hear - almost like a dying cat - was you. 
You were having difficulty catching your breath and you quickly became dizzy from the hot, heavy pleasure vibrating up your body from his tongue. Made even better by the feeling of his coarse beard rubbing against your sensitive pussy lips, and the deep vibrations of his moans against you. 
All you could do was tightly clutch onto the blanket you had used to make up the cot and buck your face against him, hoping for him to shove his tongue deep inside of you or put some more persistent attention on your needy, throbbing clit, rather than simply grazing against the sensitive organ with each pass, making you more and more needy - 
Daryl groaned into your cunt and then, much to your frustration, he pulled away completely. 
“Stop squirmin’.” He grunted at you, his voice a whole new shade of dark and lustful thick that you had never heard from him - one that made your whole body quiver. 
You let out a pathetic moan, more wetness gushing out of you. 
“Daryl, please-” 
“Shut up.” 
Somehow, him barking this rudely at you made you even wetter. 
You squeaked out another pathetic little sound, expecting that he would get back to devouring you like you were his last meal, seemingly for his own pleasure - but then, he managed to surprise you yet again. 
He used his hold on your thighs to spread your legs (as much as he could with your pants still tangling your ankles together). And then he pursed his lips and heaved a thick, heavy glob of spit onto you - aiming perfectly and causing it to land right on your sensitive, swollen clit. 
Just like his perfect mouth, it was hot and slick, and simply seeing the shiny bead come from his lips to land on you caused you to scream and buck against him like a cow being branded. Which is exactly what he had intended - for you to be branded by him, marked as his, fully owned by him. 
Hot tears of pleasure escaped your eyes and he locked right onto your gaze - even through the choppy dark curtain of his too-long bangs, his steel blue eyes pierced into your soul and the burning lust you saw there punched you in the gut. When he took one of his hands off your thigh, you didn’t have a moment to think about what he was going to do before he brought the heavy pads of his tough, well-worked fingers down onto your already sore clit and spanked you. 
Once, twice, three times - something he had done to you before, knowing exactly how hard to hit you without making it painful, just enough to jolt shocking pleasure through your body and make you sob. 
“Listen, woman.” 
He ground his voice again, lowly, making you shiver when he leaned in and gripped your face with that now wet hand, forcing you to face forward and pay attention to him. You stared at him through tear-misty eyes, absolutely enraptured and lustful, wanting nothing more than him. 
“This is mine.” He growled these words with quiet power, driving his point home with another smack to your cunt that had you crying out and seizing against the touch. 
“Yours.” You chirped back, eager to affirm it, your brain filled with nothing but him. “Yours, all yours. Daryl-” 
Before you could babble out any more affirmations, he took an even tighter, possessive, bruising death grip on you once again. One hand on your hip and the other on your thigh - trying to keep you right where he wanted you as he dove back in, just as hungry. This time he gave into exactly what you wanted, seemingly because your words had been what he wanted. He knew you all too well even without words, and he latched his mouth around your mound with intent, laving his tongue furiously across your clit without relenting. 
You weren’t sure which was worse - the teasing, or him tongue-fucking your clit like he was trying to drive you insane. 
Your hand flew to his hair with the intention of shoving him off as white hot sparks of overstimulated pleasure-pain flew up through your gut, but your muscles curled instinctively and you wove a tight grip into his locks without thinking. Unintentionally drawing him closer and locking him in place as you gurgled out cries of wounded pleasure and he continued to moan against you, almost making your poor clit numb. 
But of course, being as perfect at this as he was with everything else, he drew an orgasm out of you just as he wanted to. 
“Daryl! Fuck! I’m cumming! I’m cumming! I’m - ah!” 
He moaned against you in pure pleasure as it happened, and then he retreated down your pulsing hole to lick up every single bit of your wetness as it freshly flowed out of you. He continued to moan, slurping and flexing his tongue so he wouldn’t miss a drop, eating you like the finest delicacy he had ever experienced. His tongue even strayed down your perineum, dipping into your other hole a bit, clearly unafraid and never shy, not wanting to miss a single bit of your taste. 
You were left panting, desperate to catch your breath, and with your brain still completely out of commission, he stood up, his mind already on an entirely new track. You couldn’t contain your whine of disappointment when all of his warmth was suddenly gone, even his hands losing contact with your thrumming skin. 
“Daryl-?” 
You didn’t have long to question it before you heard the sound of a zipper. 
Not even knowing when you had closed your eyes, you whipped them open to see him shoving his pants down to mid-thigh and pumping his cock in hand a few stray times before he stepped toward you. You weren’t the biggest fan of the ‘bent in half like a pretzel’ position, as your back was starting to ache slightly, but he took the look of pure hunger in your eyes was all the consent he needed (especially with the way your gaze was focused on his cock, the slight glisten of precum beading at the tip). 
He was secure in knowing that you would stop him or tell him no if you needed to. 
And there were absolutely no thoughts of stopping on your mind when he put a hand back on your hip and used the other hand to guide his cock into you, sinking deep inside of your slicked, hot cunt in one smooth movement. 
Fuck - he always filled you up so fucking good. 
“Dar-” 
“All fuckin’ day.” Daryl growled out, tight through his teeth, taking only a single moment before he began to pump his hips forward, fucking into you. 
He wasn’t quite as furious as before, his pace slower now. Seemingly, he had gotten some of that pure need out of his system by eating your pussy. He began to thrust in and out of you at a leisurely pace, making you feel comfortably, pleasantly full. 
“All fuckin’ day, I had to listen to Zach’s goddamn yappin’.” 
Your brain was slowly coming back into function. 
He had gone on the run with Zach and Sasha. 
You thought Daryl liked Zach? 
Surprisingly, Daryl then reached for your shoes and began undoing the laces - perhaps now finally interested in getting your pants and shoes out of the way. You just laid back and let him do whatever he pleased, your cunt flashing with a warm, pleasant feeling - simply enjoying that it was Daryl fucking you. 
“Had to listen to that little smart-mouthed fuckin’ asshole-” 
Daryl let out another grunt, smacking his hips into yours particularly hard, causing you to let out a gasp. He took off one of your shoes and dropped it to the ground. 
“Had to listen to him go on and on about you.” 
What? 
Then went the other shoe. 
Your jeans followed soon after, easily untangled from your legs by Daryl’s deft fingers, making your legs free up to spread widely, inviting him in further - he laid himself down against your body, and you found your muscles much less stiff with your knees bracketing around his waist. There was another moment of comfortable fullness - stillness, as he laid there, nosing at your neck, seemingly enjoying your scent with deep breaths. 
You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp in a way you knew he liked, boiling over with curiosity until the question leapt out of you. 
“What happened with Zach?” You had to ask, still slightly fuck-dumb and confused. 
You didn’t know it, but hearing the name come off your lips was enough to trigger another intense wave of that feeling in Daryl. The jealousy, the neediness, the urge to claim you. 
Daryl let out another harsh growl - a sound coming from him that made your pussy leak around him and clench down hard on his cock. He grabbed both your hands and entwined your fingers with his - a fierce, demanding grip rather than a romantic one. He kept you pinned in place, right where he wanted you, and he began fucking his hips into you at a fast, hard pace that was enough to push a scream right from your lungs. 
“He - would-n’t - shut - the - fuck - up.” Daryl grunted in your ear, emphasizing each sharp syllable with a deep, harsh pounding of his hips into your pussy. “About you.” He whispered those words lowly, dangerously into your ear. 
“Daryl-” You gasped, your whole body dizzy and vibrating with that electricity once again. 
“About your ass-” 
He reached down and grabbed your ass - harsh, digging his fingers into the flesh with a possessive touch that made you cry out. He hammered his hips forward and used that touch to drag you toward his cock, fucking you onto him like a fleshlight for a few moments before he continued speaking. 
“About your tits-” 
He reached up and groped your breasts aggressively through your shirt, popping one of the tiny decorative buttons. A wreckage that would only serve to show off more cleavage in the end. Your nipples instantly became stiff under his touch and you arched into his hands - only for the rough, wonderful feeling to be gone too soon. 
“Daryl,” 
“He wouldn’t stop talkin’ bout what you might look like when you cum.” He growled out. “When he ain’t never gonna get to know.” 
It was thrilling, him being so possessive of you now. But you knew that it was so Daryl. Him being angry at Zach for speaking about you in a vulgar way, but holding his tongue - not speaking up then because he wanted to keep your relationship private, didn’t want to claim you in front of someone publicly. 
Or he simply kept his mouth shut because he didn’t want to lose his temper when they had a job to do. 
“He wouldn’t stop-” 
“Please, I’m yours.” You moaned out, grinding your hips into him desperately, needy for his full and focused attention. 
As much as you enjoyed the jealousy streak that had started this heated encountered, you needed Daryl to focus on you now - not on the words of some petty boy who had either been trying to rile Daryl up or didn’t even know the two of you were together because of the lack of PDA in your relationship. 
“Daryl, please. I’m yours.” 
“Tha’s right,” Daryl growled out, his voice dangerously low. “You’re mine.” 
He leaned tightly over you once again, and when his hips picked up speed - you were done for.
...
A/N: Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'Part 2'. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has already been written. If you like this and you want to see more of my fics in my style, you can check out my most recent fic Heaven's Gate, which is also a Daryl Dixon x Reader fic, or you can check out my other TWD works on AO3.
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whitexwolfxx310 · 5 months ago
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|| Baby Mine ||
Pairing: Bucky x female reader || Bucky x y/n
Summary: Bucky comes home from from a mission and finds you sick. You make an appointment at the medical bay expecting a routine visit only to find out some pretty surprising news.
Warnings: Unplanned pregnancy, minor talk of options pertaining to, morning sickness, a disgusting amount of fluff, and a small sprinkle of spice at the end just because I felt like it.
Word Count: 3323
A/Ns: First and foremost, I would like to apologize for my hiatus. It was not intended and I hit a writers block. With that being said, I do have a decent amount in my drafts and have been working on getting some new things out there!
I would like to say a special thank you to @lil-darhk who gave me some encouraging words that I really needed to hear & helped get me back on here. ♥️
This is a ONE SHOT. This is not part of my BBWWS. I am still working on that but this is something I have been thinking of for a while and just felt like writing about. I know that a pregnancy troupe is not for everyone. (Personally, I love it and I'm not sure if I will write it into my other storyline.) SO because of that....I give you this. I hope you all enjoy it because the idea of Daddy Bucky to me is just 🤌🏻💋
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Waking up to the smell of fresh ground coffee was always a tall tale sign of Bucky being home. Missions can be unpredictable. He can be gone for a few days, to a few weeks, and sometimes even months at a time. Luckily, this time he had only been gone about a month and a half.
Excitement took over as you forego your usual procrastinating in bed stretch to run out of the bedroom. Opening the door, the aroma was heavenly- as if a coffee shop had replaced your kitchen overnight. But your eyes immediately fixed on Bucky who was wearing a smirk while plating two separate stacks of pancakes.
“Breakfast, doll?” His voice as smooth as the warm syrup flowing down from those pancake stacks.
Running and jumping to wrap your arms around his neck was your response. Bucky chuckled, holding both arms out wider so he didn’t drop the plates. He put them down gently onto the counter so that his arms would now be only consumed with you.
“I missed you too.” You don’t have to look up from being buried in his chest to know that he’s smiling, it’s in the lighthearted tone of his voice.
Leaning back slightly with his arms still holding you, he looks into your eyes and plants a petal soft kiss on your lips.
“How come you didn’t wake me up when you got in?” You frown slightly looking up at him.
He shakes his head slightly and shrugs, “You just looked so… peaceful. I couldn’t bare to wake you up. At least, not without sustenance,” Bucky laughs.
Shifting your eyes from Bucky to the pancakes and back, your lips tug in each corner. “Smart man.”
His cooking always felt like home. It was filling, delicious, and you could almost taste the love it was made it with. “Mm,” the small noise escapes low in your throat as you take the last bite. Looking across the kitchen table, Bucky is slumped in his chair, arms folded with a warm smile as he watches you. “What?” The question comes out as a half joke and half concern.
Shaking his head slightly the smile grew. “Nothing, doll. Just missed you is all.” Leaning forward, Bucky rests his elbows on the table continuing to stare a tad bit more than normal.
“You’re acting weird.” You say, adjusting in your seat feeling slightly awkward.
“So what have you been up to while I was away?” He completely ignored your statement, asking an easy and lighthearted question.
“Um..” you start, breakfast starting to feel suddenly heavy in your stomach. “I uh-“ your teeth start to clench down as you swallow hard at the pooling saliva in your mouth. “I went out with Nat-“ your brows furrowed, starting to have difficulty with getting the words out. Bucky’s face quickly contorts to concern as you continue to fight the inevitable. “and her sister for some…s-some drinks-“ the word makes you gag.
Almost as if you channeled some super soldier serum, you pushed back from the table and ran- praying that the pressure of your hand over your mouth will be enough insurance to get to the toilet. It barely was. Breakfast came back up violently, loudly as you kneeled in front of the porcelain king. Even when you thought there couldn’t possibly be anything else to throw up, your stomach wrung on itself, forcing up every last drop of bile.
Breathing heavily into the bowl, skin now glistening with cooling sweat, you realize that your hair has been pulled out of your face. Your eyesight, now no longer blurry, sees Bucky sitting next to you; his right hand holding your hair back in a make shift ponytail and his left hand on the nape of your neck, the coolness of his metal hand being your favorite thing in the world at the moment.
“I’m sorry…” your sob echoed lightly in the toilet. “I’ve never been hung over like this before,” you sit back on your knees, grabbing some tissues to wipe your mouth. You bring yourself to look up at him through hooded and puffy red eyes, feeling instantly embarrassed. Bucky gives you a small reassuring smile as his hand gently rubs up and down your back.
“I’ve had the Russians drink me under the table a few times too. C’mon…” He helps you off of the floor, “let’s get you cleaned up.”
A warm bath, some fresh comfy clothes and a plain cup of tea seemed to make the nausea subside.
“I knew I shouldn’t have drank last night,” you say, looking into the lightly steaming mug. “My stomach hasn’t felt right in a few weeks. I actually have an appointment this afternoon in the medical bay, but I didn’t know you would be home. I can cancel it-”
“What time is your appointment?” He cuts you off,
“Um,” you look towards the wall and squint at the clock. “Actually in 45 minutes,” you laugh softly at the realization.
“Do you want me to go with you?” He offers.
“And miss your debriefing? Why, Sargent Barnes, that’s highly unlike you.” Even with not feeling great you can’t help but give him shit. This is the normal
Shaking his head softly he lets out a small laugh. “Alright,” he puts his hands up in a surrendering gesture, “but call me if anything comes up, okay? I’m worried about you.” Bucky’s voice is soft and sincere as he leans in and plants a small kiss on your forehead. His eyes hesitate, locking on yours for a moment. Leaning back in, he presses his lips to yours. “I love you. So much,”
“Love you more, Bucky.” You smile back up at him.
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Sitting on the exam table in nothing but a medical gown, you swing your legs gently back and forth while gently nibbling the tip of your thumb as you wait for the provider.
You jump at the sudden knock at the door. In walks the new physicians assistant for The Compound, a young and beautiful woman who looked like she was straight out of school.
“Hi! My names Bree and I’ll be working with you today. According to the nurse who did your intake, you’re here for-“ she scrolls through your electronic chart on a tablet, “some abdominal issues. Tell me about that,” she sits down on a stool, listening intently.
“It’s.. really not a big deal,” you start, she keeps quiet waiting for you to explain in more detail. “I don’t know,” you start to fumble with a few loose strands of hair. “I’ve just felt this sort of… heaviness? It hasn’t gone away and is just always sort of there?” Your voice is unsure, feeling self conscious as you describe this silly little symptom that you felt the need to make an appointment for. “This morning I got sick. Well, I went out drinking last night, so I’m assuming I’m a little hung over.” Your words start to sound like your rambling.
“Hmm,” Bree says in response. “When was your last period?”
“Um,” the gears start turning in your head as you try to backdate events, plans that had been interrupted because of aunt flow. “About 4 months ago?” It probably wasn’t on purpose, but you could see the clinicians eyebrow raise a centimeter in question. “It’s not what you think!” You quickly try to defend, “I’m on the pill! My periods have always been irregular which is part of the reason I’m on birth control in the first place.”
“Okay,” she responds, skeptical. “And you take the pill religiously?”
“Yes,”
“Everyday?”
“Yeah…”
“At the same time?” Bree’s eyebrow inclines just a little more.
“Well,” now she has you questioning everything that you’ve said. “I always have an alarm on my phone and try to take it the same time everyday.” That makes you feel better, justified.
“Have you been sick recently? Aside from this morning, any need for any prescriptions, antibiotics?”
“I had bronchitis, but that was… god months ago?”
“Okay,” she says flatly, “so we’ll just go ahead and do a minor work up to see if we can figure out what’s going on. The first thing I want to do though, is a pregnancy test.” Even though you could feel your face change, Bree quickly added, “Routine stuff. It’s one of the bases that we always cover early on.”
You suddenly become hyper focused on the urine sample you left on the counter top, as asked by the nurse. Bree takes out a small, flat test from a nearby drawer and uses a pipette to transfer the fluid.
It could have been 30 seconds or 20 minutes, but the idea that pregnancy was even a remote possibility has your insides feeling like they’re folding in on themselves.
“Okay so,” Bree starts, getting your attention. “The test did in fact, come out positive. Since your cycles have been irregular, I’d like to do an ultrasound to see how far along you are and then we can talk about options. Just go ahead and lay back on the table, feet in the stirrups.”
"Positive?" You repeat. "But... What? How?" It comes out breathless.
"Well, sometimes antibiotics can actually cancel out the effects of birth control. We try to advise women to not be sexually active as the body might seize the opportunity to ovulate and result in an unplanned pregnancy. How about we just take a look and go from there, okay?" Bree says just a little too cheerfully as she pats the stirrups.
Following her directions is the only thing you’re able to focus on. Going through the motions of laying down, putting your feet up and opening your legs. Bree’s voice is a murmur mixed with a high pitch ringing as you look up at the ceiling tiles, counting each spect while she sets up the portable sono machine.
“Just a little pressure,” she says, guiding the wand like probe, looking at the screen. “Okay. So, judging from the size… I’d say you’re close to about 9 weeks, give or take a bit. Do you want to hear the heartbeat?” She asks, sweetly. And it’s the first time you’re able to look at her since lying down. Bree patiently waits for your answer with a warm smile. You reluctantly nod your head.
The room fills with soft, muffled whooshing. “It’s so fast. I-is that okay? Is everything okay?” You’re searching her face for any hint of something being wrong. In return, Bree just nods gently as she keeps her smile, still examining the screen.
“A fetus’ heartbeat is a lot quicker than ours. Everything looks perfect actually. Would you… like to see?”
“Yes, please.” You didn't hesitate with your answer this time.
The screen gets tilted towards you and your eyes start darting all around looking for the baby. Your baby. At first you don't see anything. It doesn't look like photos you've seen on Instagram of pregnancy announcements. But then, in the middle of what looks like a black balloon, is a bean with limbs. In the center of this bean is a lively flicker. Bree uses her index finger to point to the screen.
"There's the fetus' arms and legs," she points to the extremities, "and here," her finger gently taps on the pulsing center, "is the heart."
The whooshing matches the pace of the flicker; lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub. Hearing the heartbeat in synch with the pulsing on the screen causes your own heartbeat to match for a moment.
So this is love.
After a moment, Bree removes the probe and rips a paper from the ultrasound machine. "Here's some pictures for you," she hands them to you as you sit up on the bed. "I want to see you back here in three weeks for another check up... unless you want to discuss other options?" You shake your head. "Do you have any questions for me?"
“No, not right now.” You’re solely focused on the pictures now in your hand. Even though the image is burned into your brain, holding a physical copy has some how made it more real.
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The rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind. There was no possible way that you’re actually pregnant. Even with the new noticeable symptoms and bathroom counter littered in double pink lined tests, it still seemed so unbelievable. That’s not even the hardest part. How am I going to tell Bucky?
Just as the reality starts to set in of having to tell the other adult who is directly involved, the front door to the apartment opens.
"Hey, doll!" Bucky calls loudly from the hallway, the thumping of his boots following his voice. "Sorry that the meeting ran late. I figured we could order in tonight. What about that Thai place you like?" He waits for a response while buzzing around the kitchen, no doubt making himself coffee for the dozenth time today. "Doll?" The question echoes through the quiet apartment.
"I'm in here," you acknowledge softly from the living room couch. Bucky pokes his head out from the hallway, breathing a sigh of relief.
"There you are," he starts walking towards you. "If you tell me what you would like for dinner, I'll call it in and then-" his voice and steps stop abruptly. "Hey... you okay?"
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." You answer, obviously distracted.
"That doesn't sound too convincing," Bucky hesitated, looking you over and taking a few steps closer.
"I-I have to tell you something." Your tone is soft, scared. You’re fidgeting with the edges of your sweater sleeves.
“Is it something the doctor said?” His voice is softer now, reluctant and afraid. While his piercing, cerulean blue eyes continue to search yours for the answer, wide and terrified.
“I-“
Should I have gotten balloons? Made him open a box with one of the pregnancy tests or a cute onesie inside? Bake a damn cake?
“Y/n?!” Bucky didn’t yell but definitely had to get your attention. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on?!” He pleaded. Why were the words so difficult to say? Maybe because it hasn’t been said out loud yet. Or that it’s still so shocking. Or maybe that verbalizing it will just make it that more real. You turn on your heels and run to the bathroom.
“Y/n!!” He calls after you, but you know he’ll be just a few steps behind.
Picking up a handful of the positive tests off of the vanity counter with your heartbeat pounding in your ears in combination with his heavy footsteps getting closer.
“Seriously! What is going on-“ Bucky is flustered as he steps into the entryway and stops abruptly at the sight of you facing him, holding the tests fanned out.
“I’m pregnant.” There it is. You’re holding your breath, waiting to see what he’ll say. Aside from contraceptives, you’ve never had any kind of discussions pertaining to a family.
His face softens as he takes a step forward, his eyes hyper fixated on all the double pink lines. Bucky’s chest rises and falls deeply now. “You’re… pregnant? Not sick?” He asks to clarify, being cautious.
“Morning sickness, apparently”, a small laugh escapes and it surprises you. “But other than that, I’m fine. We’re fine.”
The ‘we’re’ part catches his attention. He’s looking into your eyes once again, searching. But, for what?
“Is this… something you want? With… me?” He suddenly sounds so adolescent and anxious. Who can blame him? This took you both completely by surprise. Knowing Bucky, he would support you in whatever you wanted. Whatever decision you thought was best for you, your body, your health in every aspect, he would respect and advocate for. He is being cautious with his response to the news until he knows what your decision is.
Putting the tests down, you take both of his hands into yours and take a deep breath.
“Bucky, if you had asked me this morning, I wouldn’t have known what our future would hold. But knowing what I know now… I want this baby. I want to be a mom and for us to be a family. That being said, I know that this is something that we never talked about. If this isn’t something you want, I underst-“
You’re suddenly cut off by his lips pressing into yours. It feels like a weight has been lifted as Bucky’s arms gently wrap around you to bring you closer. Kissing becomes increasingly difficult around giggles and the obnoxiously big smiles you’re both wearing.
When your lips finally part, Bucky’s eyebrows are raised in excitement. His eyes are darting around your torso as if the news would suddenly show physical changes on your body.
“I can’t believe it…” he breathes, “I actually get the chance to be a Dad-” The word comes out almost as a choked sob. My heart.
Reaching into your back pocket, you pull out the ultrasound Bree had given to you earlier, holding it up for him to see.
"Look, our baby's first photo!"
Bucky takes the picture as gently as if someone were handing him an actual newborn baby. He just stares, probably confused as to what he was looking at similarly to you just a few hours ago.
"I know it doesn't really look like anything right now- but I go back in a few weeks and-"
"Are you kidding?" He looks up from the black and white photo to meet your eyes, a watery sheen coating his own. "This is the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my life." Bucky says softly, as if to himself, looking back down at the picture. And he's smiling. A genuine, heartfelt smile.
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That night was the closest he had ever held you in his arms. The two of you made up for lost conversations and started planning for your future and what it held as you laid in bed. Bucky talked about how he wanted to build a crib instead of buying one and was curious what the appropriate amount of time was to wait until you could both start telling everyone. Excitement was an understatement for this man.
"Can I go with you to your next appointment?" He asked, in a hopeful tone as his fingers traced along smooth, soft circles around your belly button. You giggle, wincing at one specific caress.
"Hey! That tickles! But, of course you can. You can come to all of them. I was... kinda hoping you would?" In return, your tone holds the same anticipation.
"I wouldn't miss it." Bucky's palm flattens against your belly as he places a kiss against your temple.
"Don't get used to that," You say looking down. "We're going to start growing and getting bigger any day now." You fake a frown, although there is a small part of you that isn't necessarily faking.
"Hmm." A low hum vibrates from the back of Bucky's throat as he shifts his body down along yours.
His fingertips skim the hem of your sleep shirt before pulling it up and exposing your stomach. The coolness of the air makes your abdomen tighten, but is soon replaced with petal soft kisses. "When you say 'grow', I hope you mean grow more beautiful by the day." Each firm press of his lips feels like its igniting your skin on fire with the newfound sensitivity. Your toes start to dig down into the mattress.
"Because, y/n..." Bucky repositions himself onto his knees, one now conveniently pressed in-between your legs. The pressure alone makes your heart rate spike and has you borderline panting. He hovers over you, "There isn't anything in this world I find more beautiful or more attractive than my girl carrying my child." He holds your gaze, intense and primal- more than you've ever seen.
"Do you understand?" Bucky asks with a raised brow. You nod hastily and he grins in response. "Good girl. Now, let's see if those rumors about hyper sensitivity are true. Judging by how you're writhing under me and the wet spot on my knee... I'm really going to enjoy the next few months."
If you enjoyed this, please check out my masterlist! Requests are open!
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@peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza @beware-my-thorns @prettylittlepluviophile @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @calwitch @ozwriterchick @roofwitty779 @lessersole @lil-darhk @agoddoesnotplead @saranghaey @erinallene @mrsvxder @elizabeth916 @cjand10 @bucky-barnes-lover @skyf-7
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delusional-day-dreamer · 4 months ago
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New Year's Kiss - p.b
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‣ paige bueckers x reader
‣ wc: 3567
‣‣ synopsis: you were known as one of the calmest, most well-tempered players on the ucon wbb roster. so what happens if you lose your cool for the first time in a game? takes place at the uconn vs notre dame game on dec 31, 2022: based off this post/req from my nonnie 🫶, and lowk inspired by paige's bloody nose at the uconn vs seton hall game!
‣‣‣ a/n: hey guys.... i'm so sorry for being so inactive but the writer's block hit me HARD. I have a few more drafts in progress I hope to release this week, thank y'all SO MUCH for the support and patience! Also, for the opponent in this game i refer to her solely as the, "marquette girl", as i don't know their players that well and don't want to use an irl girl!
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Up until the second half of the game, everything had been going decent for you. Sure, this game was one of the most aggressive of the season, but you were right in the peak of your season, so it made sense that emotions were running high with the pressure to do well.
But that didn't excuse the fact that the Marquette girl that had been assigned to defend you had been playing dirty the entire night. After the fucking hellish week you had just gotten through, this girl was about to be the straw that broke the camel's. your, back.
After Paige's acl tear in August and the work and energy you had been endlessly pouring into your game from the past two and a half years till now, you had basically solidified your place as one of the main starters on the team, which meant you were receiving a lot more consistent playing time. The thought of being a more prominent player on the team didn't panic you the way it might others, as you you were known for always being a very level-headed, reliable player under pressure, as you had been dubbed by the media as the "Silent Assassin". But tonight was proving to test your limits to the max.
Any time you were on the court for the first two quarters, the Marquette girl had been glued to you, illegally all up in your space, pushing and shoving at you, taunting you over and over again, and even tripping you once when you lunged for the ball. All of which she had done without receiving a single foul, which not only pissed you off, but also your teammates on the court, the players on your bench, and your coach.
And of course, the one time you had defended yourself against her in the second quarter was the only time the ref called a foul on both of you. She had nearly pressed herself up against you the second your hands came in contact with the ball, leaving you with no choice but to pass to your teammate Aaliyah to sink a layup, when she hooked her arm through yours and pulled just as the ball left your hands.
Her unnecessary aggression caused something to snap inside of you, as the second you felt her yank on your arm, you turned around to push her off of you, hard. She stumbled backwards a little bit, not tripping or hitting the ground in any way, but the damage had been done in the, very biased, eyes of the refs.
The two of you rapidly reacted, approaching each other as you were yelling out meaningless threats and a long string of curses. Thankfully, your teammates holding the two of you back firmly, preventing any further physical altercations.
The two of you both received technical fouls for the unnecessary physical contact and unsportsmanlike behaviour. However, the foul you received only irked you more. Why were the only fouls called on her when it involved you pushing back? Could they not see the way she was treating you the entire game?
And of course, Geno wasn't thrilled about one of his starters getting a tech in the first half of the game. While benched, he had chewed you out for losing your temper at her, especially for cursing, which was something refs never let slide. But his reprimands didn't hold the usual level of anger or frustration, as he internally agreed that the Marquette girl had it coming for her, but, he had to remain professional.
Of course basketball was a physical sport, and with aggression came some conflicts with other players, but her behaviour tonight was unprovoked and incredibly aggravating to you. Which only worsened in the third quarter.
After your tech, you had been trying your best to ignore the incredibly annoying actions of the Marquette girl, but you simply couldn't anymore after she had purposely elbowed you in the nose to make her shot.
You immediately stumbled backwards, folding over at the waist as your hands came up in an attempt to alleviate the intense throbbing your nose felt. You could feel the blood begin to dribble down to your lip as you walked over to the bench with Lou escorting you, awaiting the ref's call.
The refs decided to not call a foul on the other girl, claiming that she hadn't reached backwards on purpose, it was simply the angle of her basket and granted UConn two free throws. The call enraged you, and something inside you snapped. You very quickly forgot about the tissue you were firmly holding at your nostrils as you approached him, insisting with him that the call was blind and blatantly biased.
You hadn't noticed the blood resumed to flow down your face while arguing until it hit your mouth, but you paid no mind to the taste of iron that filled your mouth as you persisted angrily speaking to the ref.
"Paige, go get her before she gets another tech," Geno whispered into Paige's ears over by the bench.
She nodded at him, making her way over to you to pull you away from the ref who was now threatening to eject you from the game.
"Okay enough, you need to get checked out by the team medic," Paige wrapped her arm around your waist to pull you away from your heated conversation, despite your struggle against her. She wasn't that much taller than you, but the extra two ish inches she had on you were proving useful right now.
She dragged you over to the bench, ignoring your many protests. She pried the used, bloody tissue out of your fingers to toss to the medic waste bag, grabbing new ones from her hand to help your bloody nose. It was apparent to everyone on your team, even the fans watching, that your stubbornness wouldn't allow you to accept the call that easily and allow the medic to clean you up. So, Paige would just have to do it herself.
Since your first day on the Uconn campus, you and Paige had become extremely close. With the two of you being assigned roommates your freshman year, the COVID year, it would've been impossible to not become best friends, considering the fact that you spent all of your time together.
If not at practice or hanging out with the team, the two of you were trapped inside your dorm, forced to find company within each other for the entire year. And with Paige's injury her sophomore year, you were one of the only people she was able to open up to, other than Azzi, and you had become her comfort during her rehab time, both then and now. Despite no longer being roommates, you two still always hung out at each other's respective dorm, even having frequent sleepovers.
Your incredibly close relationship wasn't left unnoticed by the media either, especially social media platforms like tiktok. When Paige and Azzi denied the relationship allegations at the same time you made it clear that you liked girls, the internet quickly refocused their attention onto you and Paige, and neither of you had the heart to deny any rumors circulating. Considering that after Azzi, you were the least active on your social media when it came to anything other than basketball, it wasn't too hard to ignore the internet's speculation.
All of which to say, Paige had made it incredibly easy for you to catch feelings for her. Until her, you had never known what it was like to be completely head over heels for someone. The way your heart skipped any time the two of you made eye contact, the way your cheeks flushed when she brushed against you, and the chemistry the two of you shared on and off the court was undeniable.
Unbeknownst to you, she felt the exact same way, and for the last two years, everyone but you two could see the feelings you harbored for each other.
If only you could feel the way her heart was beating as she held your face in one hand, using the other to apply pressure to your nose and wipe away at the blood on your face, neck, and jersey as she listened to you rant about the refs and how they were cheating you guys out of fouls the entire game. Although, she wasn't able to focus on the words coming out of your mouth, only the plumpness of your lips as they moved, something you noticed as your verbal attack slowed down so you could take a breath in between your sentences.
"She's literally fucking stuck up my ass and the refs ignore her which is actual bullshit, the amount of times this girl has literally made unnecessary contact or-, Paige are you even listening to me?"
Her lingering gaze on your mouth quickly snapped up to your eyes, a sheepish smile settling onto her now flushed cheeks.
"Yeah, yeah sorry."
She wiped the remaining blood from around your nose before calling over the medic to check your nose. A small bruise had formed near the bridge, but thankfully it wasn't broken. While she was checking your nose, Paige did her best to avoid meeting your curious stares.
Of course the two of you had small moments where you could envision that Paige felt the same for you. But never one that was so blatantly obvious as her staring at your lips, especially so publicly.
Nonetheless, you barely had time to analyze the interaction before the medic was clearing you to return to the game, Paige patting your butt (this) as you jogged by her to sub back into the game, which, until the handshake line, went without any further incidents, despite your team beating them by 13 points (HVL VS TEXAS Y'ALL).
When passing by you, you heard her mutter under her breath, "fucking bitch," in response to your half-hearted, "good game". It was safe to say you didn't take that well, responding to her with, "you wanna come say that to my fucking face? Pussy ass bitch." For both of your sakes, Dorka and one of her teammates were able to keep pushing the two of you down the line and out to the lockers before the post-game conference with Lou, Nika, and Dorka, which Geno insisted you attend to apologize for your behaviour.
***Small Time Skip***
"So Y/N, the multiple incidents that occured tonight with you and (BLANK) from Georgetown, do you have anything to say about them? I mean, you're known for being a very calm and collected player, but tonight we saw a very different side of you," a reporter questioned you. The questions for you from tonight's post-game conference mostly avoided the fight, treading the waters carefully as it was unlike anything you had ever been involved in.
"I'm not gonna try and cover for myself or anything, it was unprofessional and unacceptable for me to lose my temper on the court like that. Like you said, I've always tried to place an emphasis on just basketball when playing and avoid any other personal feelings or problems, but I guess tonight I didn't do as good of a job on that as I could of. This is something that I will keep in mind for all of our upcoming games as that's not the kind of image or reputation I want to set for myself or the team I represent. I would never want this kind of behaviour to be defining moments from our games because my teammates really put their all into every single one of their games, especially tonight's, and I don't want to create any personal animosity with the girls on the Marquette team, as I have a lot of respect for them."
Your diplomatic and cordial answer had appeased majority of the reporters, along with Geno and the team publicist in the back corner of the room. Except for one nosy reporter who seemed unhappy with your tactful response and was practically feining for drama.
“This one is for y/n, but with the events of today, you mentioned that you try to keep all personal feelings off the court. Is that an implication of some external underlying tension or problems between you and number (BLANK), as the two of you got quite physical today?”
What the fuck? Now they really were trying to start something between the two of you that never existed in the first place.
“No not at all. I have no connection with number (BLANK) off the court and don’t even personally know her. As I mentioned before, I have nothing but respect for the girls at Marquette and there are no hard feelings on my end. You know, basketball is a physical contact game and that just means that there a few rough moments here and there, it’s just part of the game.”
If they ask any more stupid questions about you and the Marquette girl you were actually gonna lose your mind. Especially if they somehow tie in the fact that you like girls with the fight.
Which, thankfully, they ended up dropping the fight for the rest of the interview, and you and the others were finally allowed to go out and celebrate New Year's Eve the way they had originally planned to.
The whole team, and Kayla of course, was prepared to celebrate at your favorite local bar, Ted's. All of the girls who were taken were bringing their partners along and those of you who were single were all ready to hunt someone down for a drunken kiss at midnight. Except you.
You were far too down bad for Paige to even fathom kissing someone else at the moment, especially not while going out with her and the rest of the team, who all knew about your ginormous crush on Paige.
Nonetheless, you still did your best to get ready quickly, wearing your baggiest pair of low-rise cargo pants and a very cropped white halter tank top in an attempt to cheer yourself up from the fact you wouldn't have a New Year's kiss this year, again.
But by the time you were throwing back shots at the bar like they were water, you couldn't find it in you to care about how single you were. It was common knowledge that you weren't the best at holding your liquor, as the team often made fun of your ability to get drunk off of two to three shots, which is exactly the position you found yourself in.
Until, of course, "guardian angel Paige" decided she needed to intervene in your drinkfest, walking up to your barstool and effectively cutting you off by having the bartender replace your drink with a regular shirley temple just before midnight so that she, or any of your other friends, wouldn't have to deal with you throwing up at four in the morning.
"You gotta go easy on the shots y/n/n, you're gonna hate yourself in the morning if you keep drowning your liver in alcohol."
"Funny, coming from Storrs's resident party girl, Miss Madison," you teased. There were only about twenty minutes left until bar's tv would depict the ball dropping in New York, and the disparity of your situation had begun to sink in.
Not only would you be suffering through another New Year's with no midnight kiss, but you had no relationships since last year or even a single talking stage, no potential relationship prospects for the future, and worst of all, no Paige.
"Yeah well, at least I can hold my drinks. You, on the other hand, are the most lightweight out of all of us. Besides, what happened to your little New Years tradition, the whole eating the grapes thing to find the love of your life or whatever?"
You went off on a little drunken tangent at this, complaining that it was completely ineffective, but also, the fact that it made you look stupid in front of the entire team when absolutely nothing came out of it.
"I mean it's so dumb. I don't get why my love life is so barren, like actually non-existent, it's not like I'm super unattractive or anything like that. Right? But like, I don't even have a midnight kiss this year, again," you grumbled to Paige, unaware of the way she was staring at your lips for the second time today, mesmerized by their movements.
"You are most definitely not unattractive. You're like one of the most attractive people I know. Besides, it's not like I'm kissing anyone this year," Paige reassured you, and somehow, your drunk brain simply did not process the way she had flusteredly complimented you.
"Yeah but you're Paige Bueckers," you emphasized, "you could kiss anyone in this bar if you wanted. Men and women, single and taken, would literally form a line two blocks down if you even mentioned wanting to kiss someone," you gazed up at Paige from your leaned position against the bartop, watching as the gears turned behind her eyes.
"Anyone in the bar? Like, anyone at all?" She asked you curiously, a small smirk graced her features as she peered down at you.
"Yeah probably, but there's only like two minutes left or something, so you should pick someone soon."
"Oh I already have someone picked out, I just don't know if they would kiss me back."
"Oh?" You felt your stomach drop at her statement, and you couldn't stop the jealousy from coursing through your veins if your life had depended on it. But Paige's unwavering gaze never left your face, and you could feel your cheeks flush at the way she was intently looking at you.
"Quite the staring problem tonight P?"
"Well it's pretty hard to not stare at the prettiest girl in the room," she flirted, scooting closer to you, effectively closing some of the distance between you two.
"I-, what?" You stuttered, taken back by Paige's actions.
"How many hints does I have to drop before you finally start picking up on them? I want to kiss you y/n, I want you."
The ten-second countdown had begun as Paige confessed to you, and you were left gawking at Paige's face, your heart threatening to give out from how fast it was beating.
"FIVE, FOUR,"
You yanked on Paige's belt loop, pulling her flush against your body as your eyes focused in on her lips.
"THREE, TWO, ONE, HAPPY NEW YEAR'S!""
Your right hand reached up to grab Paige's jaw at the end of the countdown, pulling her lips firmly down onto yours. The bar's loud chants barely registered to you as you lost yourself in the intoxication of Paige's lips. Your tongue glided across her lip as your mouths moved in unison, causing her to groan into you. You took it as an invitation to slip your tongue into her mouth, the kiss deepening with unrestrained passion.
Your built-up need for each other was apparent as you made out, sending shivers down your spine at the pressure of her mouth against yours. It felt as if she was the oxygen you needed to breathe, and now that you had her, there was no way you could let her go now.
***The next morning: New Year's Day***
Your eyes fluttered open with a pounding headache, yet, the utterly familiar weight of a certain pairs of hands around your waist provided a sense of comfort you knew only she could provide.
Paige's soft snores rung out throughout the room, and as you gently reached forward to her nightstand to grab your phone off charging, you realize it was still extremely early in the morning, not even eight a.m.
And yet, your phone was blowing up with notifications from all social media platforms, even your text messages had over a hundred notifications.
Confused, you click on the apps to check what all the fuss was about, quickly realizing what had happened.
The entire interaction between you and Paige at the game was recorded by the cameramen and had instantaneously made it's way all over the internet, only fueling the dating rumors about the two of you.
The comments and posts were going feral at the way Paige was the only one who could calm you down, the way she wrapped her arms around your waist to pull you back, her holding your face ever so delicately, her smacking your butt as you ran back onto the court, and of course, her transparent staring at your lips the entire time you were an inch apart from her.
"What are you looking at baby," Paige sleepily mumbled into your neck, tightening her grip around your waist to pull you further into her, slinging her right leg over your waist.
You put your phone down and turned in her hold, wrapping your arms around her body as you peered down at Paige's sleepy face, admiring how beautiful she always looked.
"Your fans are going crazy about how obviously down bad you are for me P," you teased, running your foot up and down her calf as Paige pressed her face into your chest to absorb your body heat.
"Let them, just go back to sleep with me for a little bit longer."
And of course, how could you ever say no when your girlfriend was asking you so sweetly?
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a/n: thank you for reading all the way through, and i'm so sorry if the ending is kinda rushed, i just wanted to finally get another fic out 🤗
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ellebastonart · 2 years ago
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Allow me to introduce you to my newest OC Boba Cat 💖
Inspired by an amigurumi @platygalk made for me
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youronlydarlin · 9 months ago
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warning: Simon not being able to keep his dick out of you, lazy author not proofreading his work, belly bulge ig??
Grrrrr. M' jus thinkin about an incredibly horny Simon
Like he doesn't even wait till his cock's erect and all that. No, he's going to stick it in your hole despite it being flaccid. S' not like it's going to stay soft when he's got it inside you anyway.
Simon practically purrs at the feeling of your tightness wrapped around him. Groaning so deeply in your ear. The vibrations sending waves of pleasure through every nerve in your body.
Biting your fingers, you use your other arm to steady yourself. All of a sudden you're burning up. Your throat going dry. The air you breathe in feels like fire, and you release it just as hot.
Simon's a heartless bastard, nuzzling into your neck as if he were but, an adorable little kitten looking for some attention. You open your mouth to berate him for it but instead it opens in a silent scream as he shallowly thrusts his hips into your stretched hole. Purposely bumping it on a set of nerves that's got you stifling a soft 'fuck... Knees buckling you're sure that if it weren't for his big hands holding you up, then you two would've toppled down the floor, a mess of sweat and desire.
But s' not even the best part. And Simon claims it's the feeling of his large cock slowly getting hard as a fucking rock inside you. Yeah, it's the sight of it making a bulge in your tummy.
a/n: consider this an apology ebrywan, it appears that this might be my only post for the day. M' sorry, but my schedule suddenly got even fuller, and now I'm chasing deadlines that are already due tomorrow. I don't even know if I can post the drafts that I queued for release because of this. Very sorry again, but I hope you darlings are having sunnier days than I am!!
Yours, truly,
–dolly
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sturniqlo · 3 months ago
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Shrunken Laundry- M.S
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summary: matt loves doing the laundry, and y/n finds out she's pregnant what better way to tell him than using the laundry BLURB
cw: pregnancy, fluff
an: this has been sitting in my drafts for about two weeks now lol
masterlist
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Y/n and Matt have been married for almost two years now. Dated for three engaged for one and now married. They were in that point in their lives where they wanted to start a family. They've been trying for about a month at this point. After countless negative pregnancy tests and disappointed tears, Y/n had finally gotten a positive. The only downside? Matt wasn't there when she took it.
Matt had to go and film with Nick and Chris for their channel earlier today. Y/n was sitting on their dining table eating a bowl of cereal when she got a notification from her cycle app. 'your a week late!' She gasped, Y/n was always the one to keep track of her period cycle, however this time it might've slipped her mind.
She nervously, yet excitedly, stood up with her phone in hand and went into her shared bathroom with Matt and started recording on her phone in case it was the moment. "Okay, so I just got a notification from my period app and I'm one week late. So, hopefully I get a positive." She props her phone on the counter and crosses her fingers in hope. Bending down to the cabinets she grabs the last two test and opens them. "I'll be back." She says to her phone, walking to the private toilet she closes the door behind her. She pees on the sticks, and puts the cap back on both of them.
She goes back out, washes her hands and flips the tests over and waits. "I'm nervous but excited if that makes sense? Me and Matt have been wanting a baby for some time now. And I hope I can give us a baby." She tears up at the thoughts. After five minutes of talking to her phone she notices that it's time to check. "Okay, I'm going to check now." With shaky hands, Y/n grabs both test in one hand, still flipped over, and she lets out a shaky breath. She flips them over and gasps. || is what she sees on one test and sees + on the other. "Oh my god! Oh my god! I'm pregnant!" She cries happily. She looks at the test again and laugh. "Oh my- look at it! She flips over the test to show her phone and squeals.
the next day
"Okay, so it's the next day. Specifically laundry day as Matt likes to call it." She whispers to her phone so Matt won't hear her. He's currently in their room, sorting out their laundry. Ever since they moved in together, he's always done the laundry. Anytime Y/n tries to put a load to wash, he takes it away from her. "This is my job, you already do so much for us." Is what he always says. "Yesterday when I found out, I ran to the nearest store to buy something to tell Matt about the surprise and I found this. It's so cute." She flips her phone and shows the baby onesie that has a eeyore on it.
"My plan is to throw this into the dryer once it's finished and it can be the first thing Matt sees as he opens the dryer." She flips her phone back to her. "I'll record his reaction." Forty minutes later, the dryer dings while Matt is in the bathroom. She takes the opportunity to quickly enter the laundry room and open the dryer door and nicely places the tiny clothing on top of the warm clothes. She quickly closes the small door and runs out.
Quietly she starts recording once she hears Matt come out the bathroom. She makes sure the camera is filming from her back camera and she pans in to the floor for the time being. "Did the dryer stop?" Matt asks. "I think so." She nods. He goes to the laundry room and she quietly follow behind. He opens the dryer door and grabs the tiny item. "Baby, what's this? Did one of your bodysuits shrink? I've never seen this one be-" He looks confused at first but when he turns around and sees you filming on your phone and a blue and white stick in your other hand he gets what your hinting at.
"Oh my god! No way! Are you actually?" He asks, his eyes glossing over. "I found out yesterday. We're having a baby!" She squeals. He scoops her into his arms and lifts her up. "Holy shit! I love you, I love you, I love you!l He places her down and she stops recording putting her phone in her pocket. He grabs her chin and puts his lips on hers.
"We're going to be parents!"
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just-some-random-blogger · 6 days ago
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Could I pretty please request a cregan fanfic, where he gets jealous/possessive over the reader? I adore the way you write him! Thank you so much for your time❤️❤️
A/N: this has been in my drafts for a while now. i did a birthday poll and cregan did not win by any means but its my birthday and its storming and im sad and i just want someone to be kind to me. i hope you like this nonnie
Flicker
One could easily say that Lord Cregan Stark was a fair person. He is just and generous with the decisions he makes for his people. But if the matter is with his bride, there is no just or generous, only selfish and greedy; he has no inclination to share.
Cregan Stark x Reader | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, irrational!cregan lol, fluff?, typos, etc.
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Cregan clenches his jaw at the sight of you from across the yard. Not one, but two young lords are hot on your heels. They have not let up tailing you since they've arrived and, what's worse, is that you have been so terribly temperate with them.
The Lord Of Winterfell is beside himself in jealousy, and as the hour grows later, the cloud over him grows darker.
He could not blame those... young lords for acting a moth drawn to flame, in fact, he understood perfectly, but he can blame them for taking up your time. This was a harvest festival after all. How can Lady Stark make her rounds with two shadows weighing her down?
Just as you giggle at whatever nonsense was spoken to you, you turn and find not two faces but one broad back. Cregan grumbles, "boys."
The young lords, with their grins, nod at their liege lord, "Lord Stark."
"I'm sure my wife has enjoyed your company, but, it is nigh time for her to entertain other matters."
You come to your husband's side. He turns to you, seeing your smile's been replaced with raised brows. His own furrow.
"Come now, my lord," one of the two speak, "we were just telling our dear lady the folklo-"
"My dear lady had much else to do," Cregan interrupts, voice louder than necessary. He rolls his shoulders back, and suddenly the great sword on his back is more apparent than it was moment ago.
Though the two knew the Lord was not quick to resort to violence, still, they understood that it was time for them to depart, so they do.
Your face contorts as you watch your husband's nostrils flair after the two leave, his hot breath condensing with the cold air. He turns to you and you expect him to give you a talking to. You are frozen in shock when he merely nods and walks away.
Confusion holds your features, so you follow him. Cregan simply goes back to what he was doing, however, which was speaking to one of the farmers about the colts in his stables.
You are left confused, and honestly hurt by the strange treatment from him. After realizing he did not actually want you around him, you find something else to do. Cregan, though kept constantly preoccupied, keeps a close watch, and he is glad that no one lingers longer than they should this time around.
By the end of the day, when you are home eating supper, there is a tension between you two that only you can feel. Cregan is happily finishing his meal when you call out to him.
He averts his attention from his nearly empty bowl to you, "yes, my love?"
You press your lips together, doubting the otherwise plain way the pet name falls off his lips. You procure the gift you'd ben keeping on your lap the whole dinner, pushing it across the table to your husband.
Cregan's brows quirk at the wrapped object. He unfolds it, finding the gift to be a handful of candies. He turns back with a smile, "sweeties."
You return his smile with a softer one, "your favorite."
He pushes the sweets to the middle of the table, "dessert."
You turn to your bowl; you've only eaten half of your food, but your appetite was no longer present. Your husband takes a sweetie, then pushes it closer to you, urging you to take one. So, you do, popping it in your mouth.
"Thank you, love."
You release a breath, finally finding it in you to relax upon receiving the expression you did, "I take it you are no longer cross with me."
"Cross?" his brows knit, "whoever said such a lie?"
You raise your brows, "you ignored me the whole time after telling off Lord Caplan and Derby."
Cregan clears his throat, straightening up in his chair, "aye, I told them off, but I was not ignoring you. I told you I would be preoccupied greatly today."
You deflate "... Yes," you look around aimlessly, "you did."
Cregan's face hardens. He sighs, pushing his chair back, "come to me."
You stare at him for a moment. Part of you wishes to be difficult but you decide to slowly come over to him. Once you were within arm's reach, he scoops you into him and seals you against his chest.
You instinctively adjust atop him, arm coming around his shoulders while his own circle around your torso. He presses a few kisses on your neck before you lean into him. He rubs your sides, "forgive me if it appeared so, my heart."
You turn to him, frowning, "it did appear so, my lord."
Cregan's brows quirk. My lord? What horror. What pain. He frowns back, eager to set things straight, "how might I make it up to you?"
You ghost your fingertips down his cheek, examining his distraught expression. You lean your forehead against his, "I don't know."
Cregan tightens his hold on you, sighing out, "please. I do not wish to be your lord."
The faintest of chuckles slip past your lips, "mmm, but you are my lord, Lord Stark."
His one hand squeezes your thigh, "do not insult me so cruelly, my love."
You giggle under your breath and cup his cheeks.
Cregan relaxes slightly, but he still urges you with his eyes.
"Very well," you hum, "first, you must confess... were you jealous of the two lords?"
"Yes," he admits unabashedly quick.
You are taken off guard by it. You knit your brows and tilt your head, "w h y ?"
"Why?" he tilts his head the other way, "my person smiles at another. Need I say more?"
You raise a brow in disbelief of his explanation.
Cregan nuzzles against you neck, "I cannot help my feelings. Do not hold it so bitterly against me."
You chuckle and clutch the back of his head, leaning your cheek on him, "now... my dear—"
He perks, pulling away to look at you.
"—why ever would I do such a thing?"
Cregan grins, then peppers kisses across your jaw, "my thoughts exactly."
You push him away, gaining his full attention again, "but there is another thing you must do, silly pup."
His nostrils flare. It is not his favorite pet name, but he'd rather that than my lord. "Name it."
You trace his nose before tapping the tip, "take me to bed."
You yelp at the immediate reaction, as does the chair that crashes behind your husband when he jolts to his feet to carry you back into your quarters.
556 notes · View notes
muniimyg · 30 days ago
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𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jk (19) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*
series m.list // taglist request: closed
note: uhhh... angst, fluff,, face fucking/freaky sex (period sex) LOL .... nothing too crazy but it's def intimate. jus wanted to let u guys know part 20 is the 'epilogue' for the plotline ,, the continuation will go on from part 21-25,,, (onwards if i have more drafts) but that's all i have planned for now !!! thank u so much for reading along,,, it's truly been a pleasure to be loved and seen by u all <3 much love !!
୨ৎ playlist ୨ৎ
war - keshi ; you always got something you wanna prove / and i've got nothing left to lose / don't know what we're fighting for / i'm tired of going back and forth
intro (end of the world) - ariana ; i'd rather tell the truth than to make it worse for you / if the sun refuse to shine / baby, would i still be your lover? / would you want me there? / if the moon went dark tonight / and if it all ended tomorrow / would i be the one on your mind?
labyrinth - taylor swift ; uh oh, i'm falling in love / oh no, i'm falling in love again
//
that day.
when someone who loves you more than life itself proposes, you say yes. 
that’s what you’re supposed to do. 
you’re supposed to kiss, plan the wedding, get married, and live happily ever after. it’s supposed to work out. it’s supposed to. 
yet, there you stood in front of the love of your life and a ring between you two. silent, eyes flickering back and forth from his to the ring. your gaze traces the cut and falls in love with how the diamonds shine. the band is the perfect thickness and there is nothing more you want in the world than to put it on. 
you know what to say. 
the words are right there, waiting on the tip of your tongue. so easy to speak out, so tempting to do… but with every breath and exchanged look with jungkook, there’s something inside you that stops you. you search as fast as you can, running through your mind with the leftover excuses and justifications of why it’s still a no. 
then, your mind stops spinning the moment you realize; it’s just not the right time. at least, right now isn’t. 
it’s not that simple to understand and accept. you, yourself, have a difficult time figuring out why you can’t just live and be happy. why you can’t accept the proposal right now since you believe in jungkook so much… perhaps, the best way to put it is; it’s stormy. there’s fog, the rain is pouring, and it’s cold. you know the storm won’t last forever. the sky will clear soon… but it’s not now. right now, the storm needs to calm.
only time can do so. 
only time can bring the calm.
so, you answer jungkook with a heavy heart but a clear mind. 
“can i have some time? please, jungkook…” 
his shoulders drop, but his heart feels more than ready to wait. why? because contrary to popular belief, the world didn’t end when you didn’t answer jungkook’s proposal.
who was he to deny you of some time? both of you knew the real issue wasn’t whether you loved him—it was everything wrapped around it.
he gives you until the end of the week to make your choice.
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jungkook fills the next 3 days with clingy text messages and random visits to your place. each day, he makes playful comments about how he’s packing up and doesn’t know where to put his things... should he drop them off at your place or ship them to new york.
you roll your eyes and ask, “are you staying there forever?”
in response, he huffs cheekily and says, “only if you break my heart.”
the truth is, you could never do it.
you could never break his heart.
it’s too precious.
it’s quite literally half of yours.
after he proposed and granted you time, the two of you talked about how the week should go. yes, you would give your answer eventually, but more importantly, the focus should be on zion. he’s the center of your relationship, and your decision shouldn’t change the fact that you’re both his parents.
which brings us to now...
sitting in the back of zion’s daycare room with your phone out, more than ready to capture the upcoming moments. but as excited as you are, a nervous buzz hums beneath your skin. maybe it’s just a mom thing. watching your son grow and take part in these little social moments moves you in ways you never expected.
“honey, why are we sitting so far away—”
“oh, you made it!”
“i wouldn't miss this for the world,” jungkook smiles, rushing to your side. he leans in and kisses your cheek, the warmth of his lips sending a comforting flutter through you. settling beside you, he glances at the classroom filled with eager children. “hi mama. is it his turn yet?”
you nod, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in your chest. “is it weird we’re here during their circle time? like, are we controlling parents? we could’ve just asked for a video to be sent to us—”
“next, we have zion sharing—oh, wow! friends, it looks like zion brought so many toys to show and tell for us today… maybe he can pick just one to present?” zion’s teacher announces, patting his back and helping him open the bag.
your cheeks flush with a blend of embarrassment. wide eyed, jungkook whispers, “holy fuck, you packed him so much shit—“
“shhh! what was i supposed to do? he couldn’t decide, and i didn’t want his first show and tell to be something he wouldn’t remember!” you playfully shove jungkook, who chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
“you spoil him too much.”
“says the father that buys his 3-year-old stussy clothing and calvin klein underwear.” you bite.
jungkook shrugs and tilts his head. “dilf behaviour, i don’t know.”
his reply makes you laugh. then, you both turn your attention and watch zion bend over and shuffle through the bag. his small hands search for the perfect item, only revealing he’s found it through a big smile. when he finally makes his choice, the teacher smiles brightly and helps him retrieve a photo from the depths of the bag.
“friends, today zion wants to share a family photo!” she announces, handing the photo to him. zion beams with pride as he holds it up, encouraged to walk around the circle to show everyone. when he notices you and jungkook in the back, his giggle fills the room.
the family photo he chose to share is one of you, jungkook, and zion in bed. zion is 2 years old in the photo with bedhead. it’s his birthday. there’s a cake and a sleepy smile on his face while you and jungkook have paper party hats on, both cheek to cheek with zion. 
you should’ve seen this coming.
of course zion picked this. his favourite memory in his entire 3 years of living is when he woke up in bed and had birthday cake for breakfast. you all look so happy. 
“guys, look! that’s my mommy and my daddy!” he exclaims, pointing excitedly.
suddenly, all twenty pairs of wide eyes turn toward you and jungkook, and you can’t help but laugh awkwardly, waving at the children. “hi friends,” you say softly. “i’m zion’s mommy, and this is zion’s daddy—”
“daddy bought mommy a new car!” zion adds proudly, his voice echoing in the small space. “can i show and tell the car? is it outside mommy—oh! and he bought her a ring too! it’s so big! like a rock—”
a few children burst into laughter, while others shout out eager questions. just then, one little girl runs up to you, her eyes wide with curiosity. “zion, where is the ring?” she asks, looking up at you with innocent expectation.
zion shrugs, clearly unfazed. “at home,” he replies. “mommy always puts it on and then takes it off. on off, on off, on and off!”
“is your daddy rich?” one child shouts out. 
“my mommy is richer.” zion says proudly. “she’s a lawyer.”
“what’s your daddy’s job?” 
zion shrugs. “i don’t know. he always looks at art on his computer. daddy, what’s your job?”
jungkook chuckles. “i’m a visual director for advertisement.”
“yeah, okay. that.” zion nods. “... anyways, i want to be a lawyer like mommy when i grow up.”
your heart skips a beat as jungkook’s lips tighten. you exchange a panicked glance, his brows furrowing as he takes a deep breath, trying to suppress a laugh amid the unexpected attention and embarrassment from the twenty curious kids.
zion’s teacher gently guides his friend back to the circle, asking zion questions like, “how does this photo make you feel?” “where was this photo taken?” and “why did you choose to share this photo?”
zion, beaming with pride, answers one of the three questions. 
“i wanted to show and tell this photo because i love my family. mommy always kisses my booboos and daddy always makes me pancakes. i love it when we sleep in the same bed and they tickle me in the morning… i think they tickled me here too! and i love it when i'm sick and they buy me lollipops... oh, and i love my daddy because he teached me my abcs...” he says, nodding his head with determination. “but also, i love my mommy more than daddy because i just do.”
the other children burst into laughter, their voices mixing in a delightful cacophony of familial love. some shout out their own preferences, choosing sides between mommy and daddy. you can’t help but chuckle at their innocence. jungkook claps, his laughter joining yours, and together you send zion an enthusiastic thumbs up, a shared pride swelling in your chests as you watch him bask in the attention.
when the circle ends, zion’s teacher insist you two stay for a bit and observe zion with the children. you and jungkook spare 10 extra minutes before needing to leave for work. before you leave, you pick up zion and give him a tight hug. 
“i can’t believe you chose us over your toys, my love! that was so speical to us, z!” you exclaim, showering him with kisses on his cheeks and neck. he giggles, jumping in your arms.
“because i love you, mommy—”
“hello?” jungkook cuts in, scooping zion from your arms. “daddy is here too... say you love daddy too…”
zion nods. “okay, i love daddy too. i love mommy more—h-hey”
jungkook also attacks zion with kisses and tickles, their laughter filling the room. when the moment ends, he puts zion down and ruffles his hair. you and jungkook bid him goodbye, promising to come back for pickup in a few hours.
tonight you two plan on celebrating the fact that you and jungkook—despite all the distress and separation—made it known to zion that you are family no matter what.
he is loved no matter what and he is chosen above all else.
which is why this is so special to you and jungkook—
zion chose you two.
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for dinner, you and jungkook decide to cook together. 
you two haven’t done this in almost a year. usually, it’s one or the other. tonight, it was special… and for important reasons, zion requested a cake. you and jungkook grant it under the condition that he entertains himself with his toys while you and jungkook cook. 
jungkook takes over with the prep as you begin to cook the meal together. he teases you a few times, joking that the food is burning. before you know it, he’s wrapping his arms around you and helping you cook. 
it's crazy, isn't it? you would think that jungkook would be sore loser when it comes to rejection... but since it technically wasn’t rejection; he's soaking these moments up. any and every moment with you—he's taking.
“is this really a two person job?”
“mhmm,” jungkook says, sneaking a kiss on your neck. “you know what else is a two person job?”
you tilt your face and squint at him. 
he mimics your expression before pecking your lips. 
“focus on cooking. i know it’s hard with me being this handsome and my big ass dick—”
“shut up.”
“yes honey.”
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the rest of the evening slips by in a blur.
the dinner is simple but comforting, the kind that fills your heart as much as your stomach. laughter bounces around the table, mixing with the quiet clinking of plates and the warmth of home. after the meal, the three of you gather to cut the cake, zion’s small hands eager as he grabs his slice. it doesn’t take him long to devour it, chocolate smeared across his cheeks and lips. before you can reach for a napkin, he’s off—bolting toward the living room with that familiar burst of energy.
jungkook chases after him, laughter trailing in their wake, filling the space even after they've left. you excuse yourself, slipping away to the bathroom, the echoes of their voices lingering in the hall.
when you return, you pause at the doorway, the sight before you making your heart melt. your boys—your entire world—are sprawled out on the carpet, toys scattered around them in a beautiful mess. zion’s baby trash talk fills the room, his little hands batting at jungkook’s as they wrestle in the softest, silliest way. it’s these moments that make time stop, where everything feels so perfect it almost hurts.
"what do you love the most about mommy?" jungkook asks, his voice playful but curious, pulling zion close until their noses nearly touch.
zion scrunches up his face, clearly deep in thought, but you know him too well—he’s stalling. "umm... i don't know. she's pretty."
jungkook raises a brow, amused. "yeah, she is... but you pick her over me any chance you get and you don’t know?"
zion shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "yeah... i love mommy because i just do." then his face lights up as if he’s stumbled upon a great revelation. "but also because she buys me better toys than you..."
jungkook’s laughter rumbles through the room, shaking his head. "i think my favorite thing is how hard she works for our family."
zion’s head tilts, curious. "cos she’s a lawyer?"
"yeah," jungkook agrees, then his voice softens. "but also because she loves us a lot. she does so much to make sure we’re fed, loved, and somehow always on time. you know, z, i’ve loved mommy for a while now... i can’t wait to love her for even longer. you think she’s gonna marry me?"
zion thinks about it for a second, then shrugs again. "maybe."
"maybe?" jungkook gasps, feigning panic. "you're supposed to be on my side!"
zion's laughter explodes as jungkook attacks him with tickles, his tiny body squirming beneath jungkook’s strong arms. the sound of their laughter fills the room, wrapping around you like a warm blanket, making your chest tighten with an emotion you can’t even name. it’s love, yes, but it’s more than that—it’s contentment.
the kind that comes from seeing your entire heart laid out in front of you, scattered in toys and giggles and moments too precious to capture fully.
you step into the scene, quietly noticing how zion’s eyelids have begun to droop, a yawn escaping his small lips. jungkook notices too, his eyes flicking to the clock before he decides it's time to get zion ready for bed. surprisingly, zion doesn’t argue this time. instead, he bounds toward the bathroom, his energy fading but still there in the way only a child can manage.
as jungkook jogs past you, he smacks your ass, a cheeky grin tugging at his lips as he chases after zion. you huff in mock annoyance but can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. there’s a lightness to it all, a warmth that settles deep in your bones, and even as you start tidying up the scattered toys and cluttered living room, you feel that fullness.
by the time you finish, jungkook and zion are still in the bathroom, their voices muffled by the sound of running water and sleepy giggles. you head to the kitchen, your movements slow, deliberate, as you begin washing the dishes, the weight of the day catching up with you. but even through the exhaustion, all you feel is love. it's in the quiet moments, in the laughter, in the way your home feels more alive when the two of them are near.
it's everything.
it always has been.
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as you stand by the sink, hands submerged in warm soapy water as you scrub the dinner plates; you can’t help but think about today. 
today was good. 
after you and jungkook left zion’s daycare, you had to get back to the firm. jungkook insisted on driving you, but you brought your car too. instead, you asked him to walk you to your car. happily, he does so. when you two got to your car, you opened the trunk and gave him a gift bag. 
“what’s this?”
“open it.”
“an umbrella?”
“use it.”
he laughed, kissed you, and uttered against your lips; “we’re so not over.”
then, you two parted ways. 
as you wash the dishes, you think back to it.
how his hands were placed around your waist as you two walked out of the daycare. how he kisses you whenever his eyes fall onto your lips. how he laces your fingers together every chance he gets. how he shows up as zion’s father despite all the shit you throw at him… it’s everything to you. 
he’s a good man. 
your mind begins to wander as you think of all the things you want to say to him but can’t. things you’ve kept tucked away, hidden beneath the day-to-day rhythm of life. you think about the moments when everything felt too heavy, when the world seemed to close in on you, and all you wanted was him. 
in the depth of your misery, all you could think of was crawling to him—slipping into his arms, burying your face against his chest, and letting the weight of everything fall away as you cried your heart out.
you wanted to ask him to fix it, to take the burden from you like he always could, as if his love alone had the power to make everything right again.
because love... love should be enough, right? 
in your heart, you know that’s all you’ve ever wanted from him. for the love between you two to be enough to overcome the exhaustion, the stress, the compromises...
you’ve built so much together—beautiful things, a life, a family—but in the quiet moments, you still find yourself wishing it could just be about the two of you again. before the responsibilities, before you had to be anything more than his and him yours.
you imagine a different version of this life (not that you want it. you wouldn’t trade zion for the world). one where you’re still young, where the only thing you have to worry about is each other. no careers pulling you in opposite directions—no complications that need constant juggling or guilt. just him and you, lost in that simple, intoxicating love you both fell into so easily.
if it were like that, you know you’d choose him in a heartbeat. without hesitation, without the doubt that sometimes creeps in when the days get too long. you still would choose him, even now, with all that’s at stake.
because the truth is, you always choose him. 
you choose him in every quiet glance, in every tired smile at the end of a long day. you choose him when he makes you laugh, when he frustrates you, when he softens just enough for you to see that vulnerable part of him he hides from the rest of the world.
and even when things get hard, when life feels overwhelming, and you're standing on the edge of that misery, you still want him. you want him beside you, even if love isn’t always enough to fix everything. because, deep down, you know that with him, it’s enough to keep going.
and maybe that’s what matters most. 
not that love can fix everything, but that it's the reason you keep trying.
but it’s different now in the sense that you have more things to consider. zion, the people around you, your careers, and your own desires. how do you do this? how do you love him and give him everything but at the same time; do it for yourself too?
every day for the past 9 months felt like war. like you had to constantly choose one or the other. 
marriage or new york.
why can’t you have both? 
maybe that’s the answer. 
as jungkook finishes putting zion to bed, the quiet creak of the floorboards announcing his presence behind you. without saying a word, he picks up a dish towel and starts drying the clean plates, his shoulder brushing against yours gently.
"so... i was thinking," he starts casually, “maybe we should start planning for these 3 months. you know, like, zion’s schedule, dinners... that kind of stuff.”
you sigh softly, rinsing a glass. "we’ve got time," you mutter, brushing it off without meeting his gaze. "it doesn’t have to happen right now."
jungkook pauses, drying his hands before leaning against the counter. "i just think we should be prepared," he says, his tone still light but with a hint of seriousness creeping in. “i know you still have time left, but i’m not so sure our plans do—”
“what do you mean our plans? jungkook, you’re not taking zion—” you place the glass in the drying rack, feeling the pressure of the upcoming separation tightening in your chest. "we don’t have to plan every single moment, jungkook. why do you always do this? we have time."
“we have 4 days.”
“4 is plenty.”
“is it?” jungkook asks, voice shaking. “is it easy for you, ___? going back and forth, putting the ring on and off… telling me i can’t make plans—”
“that’s not what i meant—”
“what do you mean, then?”  
the room feels charged with tension as jungkook’s gaze hardens. he can see the conflict written all over your face, the way your shoulders tense and your hands move a little faster. "___, i just want us to be ready," he insists, his voice softening. "we need to figure out how to make this work."
you turn to him, frustration bubbling to the surface. 
"no. it's not easy for me, jungkook. it’s scary as hell when you do this,” you snap. “planning the rest of our life together when we’re only just recovering from the one we lost. i’m scared that if we make plans and start over—we might lose again." your word slip out before you can filter them.
“lose what? we don’t have to have another baby until we’re ready. until you’re ready—”
“it’s not that,” you bite your inner cheeks. “well, it’s a part of it… but what if i do it again? what if i lose myself and lose you? what if i fuck up too much the next time around and you don’t come back? everything we’ve built—us… i… fuck, what if you don’t fight for us because i burned everything down—”
“you won’t.”
“jungkook—”
he huffs. “___, you’re not wildfire, you’re hearth. you’re the reason this all feels like home. yeah, you’ve got heat, but it’s the kind that pulls people closer, not pushes them away. you don’t ruin, you ignite. you’re the reason we’re still burning bright. i burn for you."
you tighten your lips. “have you been watching bridgeton?”
“i’m trying here—”
you kiss him. 
he chases your lips as you pull away.
“i trust you. it’s myself i’m still unsure about. it’s getting better but it just freaks me out when you plan ahead… i used to look forward to those moments, you know? now it feels complicated.”
jungkook nods, bringing his hands to your face. he fixes your hair and looks into your eyes. “honey, even if the flames get high, we’ll handle them together. and if it burns, then fine—then we can slow dance in the burning room. you don’t just burn, you keep me warm. you make everything brighter, stronger. don’t think for a second that i’d let you lose yourself to the fire. i need you. you’re my warmth. you’re the light of my life, ___."
you pout, completely in awe of his words. 
jungkook then leans in and just when he’s about to kiss you, he murmurs; “so are you marrying me or what?” 
his words catch her off guard. as you open your mouth to retort, the teasing glint in his eyes makes you pause. for a moment, you’re defensive, but then the corners of her mouth twitch upward against her will.
“don’t be a coward,” jungkook says. “you’re a million things to me. don’t be that.”
“coward?” you scoff, trying to keep your tone light, as you push away from him. “you think i’m a coward?”
“well, you’re avoiding the tough stuff,” jungkook replies, his playful tone breaking through the tension. “... and we both know you’re tougher than that.”
you can feel the weight of his words settling in, the understanding lingering between you two. the walls of anxiety you built up start to crumble, and you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. 
“maybe you’re right.”
he steps closer, nudging her playfully. “see? that wasn’t so hard, was it? admitting that i’m right… wanting to marry me—”
“whatever you say, you cocky son of a bitch—”
jungkook chuckles, kissing you to shut up.
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by the 4th day, jungkook begins to lose his mind.
the waiting has been unbearable. a slow kind of torture that gnaws at him from the inside out. every passing second feels like he's being pulled apart, suspended in limbo, unsure whether his future will unfold with you by his side or shatter into something unrecognizable. his thoughts go in circles—one moment, he’s convinced you’ll say yes, and the next, a creeping doubt settles in, making his chest feel tight.
he imagines every scenario, every possible response, and the worst part is that there’s no way to know.
he has packed all his belongings into boxes that line the walls of his studio apartment, the space feeling more hollow than it ever has. his game plan is simple: if you say yes, he’ll leave the boxes at your place, move back home, and everything will fall into place. if you say no… well, he’ll burn everything and cry the entire way to new york.
kidding.
(maybe)
realistically, jungkook will bring his things to his parents’ house, regroup, and try to act like he isn’t completely devastated. but even if you say no, there’s no universe where you and him don’t end up together eventually.
he’s sure of it.
there’s a certainty in his heart, a pull that refuses to let him believe otherwise. if it takes time, then so be it.
he’ll propose again and again when he gets back, until you see what he sees—that you’re meant for each other.
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by the 6th day, yoongi comes in to bring his boxes.
jungkook spent the past 2 days at work, going over files and preparing documents for new york. it felt like going through the motions, like he was acting out a version of his life that wasn’t real yet. when he steps back into his studio, the air feels stagnant, the packed boxes looming like reminders of the uncertainty ahead.
he finds yoongi slumped over on the couch, lazily typing away on his laptop, his legs sprawled across the cushions as if he’s already made himself at home.
“have you been like that all day?” jungkook asks, toeing off his shoes by the door.
yoongi doesn’t look up. he lets out a wide yawn. “yeah,” he says, stretching. “your new york assistant better be patient as hell with you. you're a bitch sometimes... anyways, i actually moved a few boxes and put my clothes in the closet. oh, and i went out for some coffee.”
jungkook squints at him, making a face. “what? i literally have a nespresso machine.”
yoongi stands up from the couch, his hands sinking into the deep pockets of his sweatpants. he tilts his head slightly, a look of lazy amusement on his face.
“no, you don’t.”
jungkook frowns, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. he turns to the kitchen counter, where his nespresso machine has always been, only to find it missing. his heart skips a beat, and he takes a step forward, blinking as if maybe he just missed it somehow.
“what? where’d it go—”
“___ came by and took it,” yoongi says casually, as if he’s talking about the weather.
jungkook’s mind races, processing the information. “what? why would she take it?” his voice is laced with confusion, but there’s a flicker of something else—a hope he doesn’t dare entertain too much just yet.
yoongi rolls his eyes, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water.
“congratulations on your marriage, jungkook,” he says, twisting the cap off. “now get out of my place. go home.”
jungkook blinks again, his heart pounding as the realization sinks in. you took the nespresso machine.
you took the fucking nespresso machine.
that’s your answer. his chest tightens, but this time it’s not from uncertainty. it’s from the flood of emotions crashing over him—the relief, the joy, the love.
his body moves on autopilot as he starts grabbing things, adrenaline coursing through him. yoongi watches from the couch, a smirk tugging at his lips as he lazily sips his water. “you’re welcome,” he mutters under his breath.
jungkook doesn’t hear him.
his mind is already on you.
the wait is over, and he’s finally going home.
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jungkook bursts through your door, calling your name, the sound of his voice filled with excitement and urgency.
“___? honey, where are you—”
time seems to stop as the world around you fades away.
as he catches sight of you on the living room floor, laughter bubbling between you and zion, the warm glow of the afternoon sun filters through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the room. the ring on your finger catches the light, sparkling as it draws his gaze.
his breath hitches, and his heart feels as if it’s been thrust into a whirlwind—stopping, skipping a beat, and then racing wildly, unable to contain the rush of emotions flooding through him.
it beats for you.
“hi, honey,” you wave him over, your smile radiant and genuine, illuminating the cozy space. “look! zion can count up to thirty now!”
jungkook rushes to your side, the weight of the day lifting with each step. he forgets that yoongi is still with him, his entire focus on you. kneeling beside you, he takes your hand in his, his fingers brushing over the ring—the very symbol of the love and commitment he has always wanted to share with you.
“you’re marrying me?” he asks, disbelief and joy intertwining in his voice. "it's a yes?"
you look at him lovingly, warmth radiating from your gaze—the kind of look that speaks volumes. it’s the same way you’ve always looked at him, but now, there’s an unmistakable depth to it. the courage, the trust, the love shines brighter than ever, enveloping both of you in a cocoon of intimacy.
"i've loved you forever,” you reply, cupping his cheeks with your hands, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. “i have things to work on and so do you... but we're gonna do it together, right? cos this was difficult. this was way too difficult... and loving you has always been clear... so, yeah. i'm toughening it out. i'm trusting you and i'm not going to burn this to the ground. jungkook, you’re the only one i love in this world. you’re the only one who understands me. i fought so many wars in my mind to be with you—it has to be you.”
as jungkook’s lips curve into a radiant smile, a surge of emotion wells up within him. he leans in, capturing you in a kiss filled with promise and passion, pulling zion into a hug, enveloping you both in the warmth of his love. laughter bubbles up, mingling with happy tears as he holds you two close, the room echoing with the sweet sound of family and joy.
“oh my god,” he cries, the happiness spilling over. “i can’t believe this. okay, i’m going to get my stuff and—”
“yoongi?” you call, and he raises his hand, responding as if it were all part of a well-rehearsed script.
“wanna have a sleepover at uncle yoongi’s place? we should give mommy and daddy some privacy, huh?” he explains, scooping zion up into his arms and tickling him, making the little one giggle uncontrollably.
“can we eat ice cream before bed?” zion asks, eyes sparkling with excitement.
“duh!” yoongi replies with a grin.
“yoongi—”
“my son, my rules,” yoongi hushes you playfully. he puts zion down, urging him to say goodbye to you both, and they exchange sweet kisses before you point to the kitchen counter where zion’s overnight bag sits. yoongi picks it up and holds zion’s hand as they leave.
the moment settles around you and jungkook, and he looks at you with a mix of wonder and concern.
“you said yes,” he states, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
“i did,” you confirm, a hint of hesitation in your voice.
“what’s with this vibe, then?”
you swallow hard, feeling the weight of what you’re about to say. “jungkook... i still want you to go to new york.”
jungkook tilts his head, his expression shifting to confusion.
“are you guys coming with me?”
you shake your head gently. “no.”
“no?”
you reach for him. he lets you hold his hand. bringing it your lips, you kiss them. “jungkook, i don’t want it to be one or the other. let’s do both, okay? go to new york. let’s get married. both. we do both.” 
“but 3 months?”
“we’ll come and visit!” you suggest, fully meaning to do so. truth be told, you already bought your tickets for the first visit. “i decided to take a leave from work for the rest of the year—why are you looking at me like that?"
"that's huge. are you sure that's what you want?"
you nod. "i want you."
"oh god..."
you laugh. "i want to get this right and i want to be okay. i want to figure it all out and i want to do it with you by my side. so, do this for us…. and 3 months isn’t forever. you’ll be back soon and we’ll be visiting every month. it’s too much of a hassle to move… but i truly want you to go and explore your options. i want you to go knowing that i don’t only love you for who you are and for what you’ll ever be—but i love you so much that i believe in you. in the dreams you have and the dreams i have for you. so, go. go, and when you come back, come back home to us—to me.”
the sincerity in your words wraps around him like a warm embrace, and jungkook feels the weight of your love and belief in him, making him all the more determined to chase after his dreams. he nods slowly, understanding the depth of what you’re offering.
in that moment, everything feels right.
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"w-we can’t—" your voice breaks, barely a whisper, trembling with hesitation. your heart is pounding, the room feeling warmer by the second.
“why not?” jungkook’s eyes are wide, pleading, filled with a desire that mirrors your own but with an urgency that’s hard to ignore. his breath fans over your lips, just inches apart.
he’s been kissing you for almost 20 minutes, his lips soft but persistent, his tongue teasing yours in ways that make it impossible to think straight. his hands have long since slipped under your shirt, fingers trailing over your bare skin, sending sparks up your spine.
the heat between you two is overwhelming, consuming. his touch is soft but possessive, his fingertips grazing the edge of your bra as he pulls you closer, pressing you flush against him. you feel his heart racing beneath his chest, a rhythm that matches your own.
every inch of you craves him, craves more.
“i want you,” his voice is a low, husky whisper, filled with need. his hands move slowly, deliberately, like he’s memorizing every curve of your body, every reaction. “i want all of you.”
his words send a shiver down your spine, your resolve weakening with every second. he looks at you like you’re everything he’s ever wanted, like he’s been waiting for this moment forever... and you have too.
the tension between you two has been building for so long, the unspoken feelings bubbling under the surface, waiting to explode.
his lips find your neck, pressing soft, heated kisses there, and you arch into him, your breath hitching. your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, your body betraying the protests on your lips. every touch, every kiss, makes it harder to think, harder to hold onto the reasons why you shouldn’t.
you can feel how much he wants you, the way his hands tighten their grip on your waist, the way he presses himself harder against you, his need undeniable. his lips move back to yours, capturing them in a deep, searing kiss that leaves you breathless. and in that moment, it’s like nothing else matters but him, but this.
you’ve never felt anything like this—so intense, so consuming.
“i’m on my period.”
jungkook bites his bottom lip. 
“so?”
“i think i’m gonna be more sensitive and it's gonna be so messy—”
“are you okay with being more sensitive? we don’t have to fuck if you don’t want to.” he insist, putting you first. your eyes flicker to his cock, poking through his jeans. "and mess is just mess. we can clean it up."
“i want to,” you say. “should we just put a towel underneath?” 
he nods, getting up from your bed and out the hall to the linen closet. there, he picks the thicket towel and hurries back to your room. he bends over and places the towel on your spot. you get up to go to the bathroom and freshen up as he prepares. 
when you get back, jungkook is already naked. he grabs you by the waist and pins you down on the bed. 
“let me suck your dick first.”
jungkook gulps. 
“actually, c-can i.. can i fuck your tits first?”
you laugh, puckering up for him. he leans over and kisses you. against the kiss, you answer him; “whatever you want, honey.”
with that, jungkook sets himself on top and places his cock in between your boobs. his cock is bigger than ever. you take it with two hands, pumping him slowly and adding some pressure to it. he throws his head back, hissing at the perfection of your touch.
“f-fuck…”
then, you let go and hold your boobs together. jungkook then begins to pump himself in between. the tip of his cock pokes out every so often, causing him to pant at the sight. you lower your chin, opening your mouth for his cock to enter it. jungkook takes the hint and shoves his dick inside. 
you suck on it.
twirling your tongue around and playing with his tip—jungkook just might combust. you breathe through your nose as he begins to fuck your mouth. he can’t help it and you wouldn’t want it any other way. jungkook fucks your mouth in a desperate and almost brutal way. god, did he need this. 
he loves this. 
jungkook places his hands against the wall to help his stability. as he pulls himself out, you hold his cock with your two hands and continue to give him a handjob. he loses his breath for a second when he looks down and sees you drag your tongue around his hard cock. 
he moans, eyes shut and the feeling of the pit of his stomach twisting. 
“g-gonna cum—fuck, fuck, fuck!” jungkook chants.
you suck his dick more intensely. taking in every inch of him and tiring your inner cheeks out—he finally cums inside your mouth. 
pulls out, you don’t let go. you continue to pump his length and kiss it. 
jungkook feels like he’s going insane. he moves his body and matches to your eye level. he kisses you, tasting a bit of himself. 
“thank you.”
“any time, daddy.”
“oh god—”
you laugh. 
jungkook wipes the cum that spilled outside of your mouth with his thumb and shoves it in your mouth. you suck it clean. 
“do you want me to eat you out?”
“that’s nasty!” you cry, hating the idea. “just put it in.”
jungkook smirks. “no prep?”
“aren’t i wet already?”
he ignores you and fixes your position. he lifts your hips, dragging you closer to him. jungkook then places himself on top of you and his cock in between your legs. he parts your folds, looking down at your bloody entrance.
“ready?”
you nod, lacing your hands together around his neck. he lets out a breathy moan as he sinks himself inside you. 
you wince. 
“f-fuck, should i pull out?”
you shake your head. “n-no.”
“does it hurt?”
“yeah.”
he lowers his head, placing kisses on your neck and collarbone. “sorry, mama.”
“why are you so fucking big?” you hiss, feeling his thickness push inside you even more. your body jolts and he chuckles. 
“that big?”
“mhmm,” you agree, closing your eyes to help regulate the burning feeling in between your legs. “j-just keep going. think it’s better when you—oh, f-fuck. yeah. like t-that, daddy. s-so nghhh, f-fuck. so good.”
“you like that, mama?” jungkook asks, pumping himself inside and out of you deeper and deeper. “fuck, you’re so tight. so fucking tight. can we do this again next month?”
"oh my god!"
you hit his shoulders and he laughs. 
it’s not long before your arms wrap around him. you drag your nails against his skin, digging deep as he fucks you. 
jungkook rests his forehead against yours. there, he watches as you make fuck me eyes at him, and as you wince and gasp between each thrust. your arms move up, holding onto his shoulders. 
then, you feel it. 
the tingle in between your legs and the tightness that follows. jungkook’s cock throbs inside you and you feel it like never before. 
wrapped in his warmth, your heart swells with a love that feels like a tsunami—overwhelming and unstoppable. it’s a powerful wave that crashes over, rising higher with every shared look, every gentle touch. you can feel it building inside me, a rush of emotions that surges forth like water cascading from a great height, and you’re completely swept away.
you’re done for.
the intimacy of this moment is everything. his pants and murmurs of ‘i love you’s echo in your ears, and the way he looks at you with light in his eyes make your heart race like never before. 
it makes you want to cry. 
you’ve known and felt loved by jungkook before. for a long time now actually… but never like this. never has it ever felt this raw and real. 
never has it ever felt this consuming. 
it engulfs you, leaving me breathless yet exhilarated. in this moment, everything else fades away. there are no worries, no doubts—just you and jungkook suspended in time, hearts beating in sync. you can feel the tide of your feelings, crashing and receding, drawing me closer to him with each pulse.
as you gaze into his eyes, you realize that this love isn’t just a fleeting moment in time. 
it’s endless. 
uh oh. 
i’m falling in love. 
you want to surrender to it completely. to be swept away in the depths of our intimacy. with jungkook, there’s a promise of haven in chaos and as the waves of love continue to swell, you know that you’re more than ready to embrace every moment. 
to let this tsunami carry you wherever it may lead.
“fuck, ___… a-are you crying? i’m sorry. i’ll—”
you hold onto him. 
uh oh.
i’m falling in love again.
eyes burning with your tears, heart lighter than ever. 
“i love you, jungkook.”
“i love you too, mama.”
jungkook kisses you, continuing to ask if you’re okay. you assure him you are and that period sex is a lot more emotional than you expected it to be. it’s not freaky—it’s just a fucking moment. he continues to fuck you, digging in deeper and deeper. 
you think to yourself; no one will ever know me the way he does. 
no one will ever love me and want me as wholeheartedly as he does… for that, you’re grateful and fall in love with the closeness everything has brought you two. 
you lose yourself to him.
he carries you through 3 more orgasms before helping you up from bed, starting you and bath, and cleaning you. together, you two sit in the bathtub and hold each other. you two talk about the plans that you have and what to expect during the next 3 months. 
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as you lay next to jungkook, his soft breathing fills the quiet room. his body sinks deeper into sleep. you feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest against yours, his arm draped loosely over your waist, pulling you closer. the warmth of his skin against yours, the weight of him in the stillness—it all feels like home.
the world outside could be moving a million miles an hour, but here, with him, time seems to slow down, just for the two of you.
yet, something stirs within you, a reminder of a truth you’ve held onto for years—time doesn’t stop for broken hearts. it never has, it never will. yet, it always seems to move a little slower when love slips through your fingertips—when it’s about him.
something you’ve always known about loving jungkook is that he fears the end. he’s never been good with losing people or things, never able to fully let go. he loves and lives like he’s running out of time, even though he isn’t. but that’s what makes him so different, so captivating—he loves in full force. he loves with his entire heart... and he loves with all his time.
as his breaths even out, you stay awake, thoughts swirling around you. you realize how long it took to get here, how many battles you fought—most of them with yourself.
pride had been a constant companion, keeping you at arm's length from the very love you craved. there were moments where you couldn’t imagine letting yourself be this vulnerable, this open. loving him meant risking the one thing you protected the most—your heart.
but somewhere along the way, you let that pride slip away, piece by piece. maybe it was the way he looked at you, the way he never let go, no matter how many times you tried to push him away. maybe it was realizing that you didn’t have to be so strong all the time, that with him, you didn’t have to carry the weight of everything alone. the moment you put pride aside, everything shifted—time, love, and life all started falling into place.
you’ve both waited for this.
for the space to just be with each other without the weight of past mistakes or the fear of losing what you’d built. now, time feels like it’s on your side. for so long, it seemed like you were always too late or too soon, like everything was just out of reach. but here, in this moment, with his warmth wrapping around you, you know you’ve finally caught up to where you were meant to be.
he stirs a little, tightening his arm around you as he shifts closer. a soft smile tugs at your lips, the kind of smile that only comes when you realize that all the walls you’d built were finally down. you’ve let go of the need to protect yourself from him, because you know now that loving him is worth more than holding onto pride.
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the first light of morning spills through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. jungkook wakes slowly, his sleepy eyes finding yours, a lazy grin spreading across his face. in that moment, without either of you needing to say a word, you both know—time isn’t something to fear anymore.
it’s finally yours.
“coffee?” he mumbles, voice still heavy with sleep.
"coffee."
you move together, the rhythm of your morning routine as easy and familiar as breathing. side by side, you make coffee, the smell of it filling the kitchen, your hands brushing as you pass him his cup.
and as you stand there, cups in hand, you feel a quiet sense of peace. the pride that once kept you from this moment is gone, and in its place is something stronger—trust, love, and the certainty that no matter what time brings, you’ll face it together.
whether it's the beginning or the end;
you and jungkook are timeless.
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churipu · 9 months ago
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THE MOMENT THEY REALIZE THEY'RE IN LOVE ִ ࣪𖤐
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featuring. gojo satoru, sukuna ryomen, itadori yuuji, toji fushiguro x reader
warnings. cursing, college! au, toji being a single father during his second term of uni (i searched that most japanese college uses 2 terms or trimester system / 3 terms, 1 term of uni in japan is around 15 weeks apparently) -> please tell me if i get this wrong.
note. omg, for the anons who have sent in requests to me, i apologize if these came out before your requests did, i'm trying to empty out my drafts :( but pls note that i am not ignoring your requests at all, it will be written, i promise <;33
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GOJO SATORU
when he finds himself checking his phone countless of times, waiting for your message
i promise you, you both started out as work partners in one of your lectures. the two of you were complete strangers to each other — he doesn't know you, and you don't know him. but, either way, the two of you had to get to know each other because this was a crucial grade to pass this lecture.
gojo never thought about having feelings towards you, his work partner. he thought to himself, he'd just get this work done, pass this lecture, and never see you again.
but fate is a funny thing.
the way you made him feel like he wasn't just special because of his face, but his heart too. whereas most people in campus would consider him the pretty boy who could go head-to-head with the hottest celebrities — they just think of him as a pretty boy. and gojo would just go along with them, he gets used to it.
but you? you didn't consider him special at all. although, you did make him feel special the way other people can't.
gojo deep down, knows he was fucked up the moment he finds himself checking his phone to see if you'd reply to his messages, and when you do, he gets so happy. gojo was never a fast responder to everyone — because he practically receives the same kind of messages, "gojo hang out with us", "gojo go out with me", "gojo i like you".
but with you? he won't waste a second at all. even if sometimes you didn't reply as fast as he does, because you are a busy person in campus. you'll work on that after you both started dating, i promise.
SUKUNA RYOMEN
when you stood up for him when nobody would.
sukuna, how do i say this? not everyone is fond of him, people are scared of him — they talk shit behind his back, and don't dare to approach him. people dreaded when they have to be in the same group with him, despite the fact that he actually works; they still think he's a bad person.
"you guys are talking shit to a person who's in our group, if you want to say something to him, have the balls to say it to his face. and while he's here, why don't you tell him about it?" you tell the two people who were sitting beside you, who had been talking in whispers about how they were unlucky to be grouped up with sukuna.
and sukuna? he could honestly care less, he'd gotten used to those kind of things anyway. but when you actually stood up for him, he could only look at you with an amused smile.
he's definitely curious about you after that day — he has pride. and he'd never admit that he's actually pretty thankful that you, the first person to stand up for him, actually did what you did. because now people are a little terrified of being told off by you.
sukuna finally sucks it up at the end of the semester and tries to talk to you. yes, it took him the whole semester to talk to you, asking you for your number, and then thanking you for what you did because nobody has ever done that before to him.
ITADORI YUUJI
when you went all out to tutor him so he'd pass his lectures, teaching him patiently when he doesn't understand something.
yuuji hates studying. and when his lecturer asked you to tutor him, he feels extremely bad for you — he feels that he'd just going to waste your time tutoring him, when he knows that he's going to fail this one subject.
but when you reassured him, and encouraged him. saying that you will do anything to teach him so that he could pass, he gets a little emotional at the thought. you both were just mere classmates, and he barely knows you, vice versa.
when he doesn't understand a topic, he gets so frustrated at himself for not being able to understand it. but you, you were very patient with the male, reassuring him that you had the time to teach him over so that he will be able to understand the said topic.
and when he does finally understand, he gets so happy. he started looking forwards to your tutoring sessions, and like everyone said: if you enjoy something, it passes by quickly. and it's true, yuuji feels like time went by in a flash, and the exams soon started.
he passed with flying colors, he makes sure that you know about his grades — and points out that without you, he wouldn't be able to pass. yuuji, gets a little upset when he realizes that if the exams are over, you had no more tutoring sessions with him; which meant no more conversations.
so he has to ask you out right then, he didn't want to just return as mere classmates. he wanted to be more than that.
TOJI FUSHIGURO
when you didn't care about his shitty reputation of being a single father while still being on the second term of uni.
being a single parent is hard enough. not to mention, in university. not married, with a baby itself gets a lot of unwanted (negative) attention — toji, who once failed to get a babysitter on a weekday, and so he had to bring his eight month old son to class.
his son—megumi— was a calm baby, thankfully. the young one didn't cry or babble during lectures, and he just slept through it. toji was a little relieved to say the least, but ever since people find out about him being a single father to an eight month old baby, a lot of assumptions and words have gone around.
toji hated group works, especially when he has to pick the group himself. people didn't want a single father to be in their group, they assumed that the male would focus on his baby and ends up deserting the group work.
so when that particular day where he has to bring megumi to campus, strapped on a baby carrier on his chest. his lecturer just had to give out a partner work, and to add the cherry on top; the lecturer left the class to choose their own partner. so the male sat on his place, a pencil in between his nose and upper lip as he puckered them lightly — hearing his classmates choosing each other.
he figured that he could just do this and get the grade himself, solo. but when you came up and slipped into the seat next to him, he was of course surprised.
you asked him if he would like to partner up with you for this work, and after a few seconds, he accepted your offer.
toji knew it was getting bad when you didn't care about what people say about you getting close to him. just by choosing him for this work made your reputation falter a bit, and he was honestly ready for you to back out of the partner work.
but you didn't, and he knew it's bad for him, his feelings, and his heart.
the way you treated him and megumi like they're both normal (which they are normal humans), and the way you always make him feel included makes his heart race. sometimes, when he fails to look for a babysitter when you both are working for this project, you tell him he didn't have to since megumi is a calm baby.
he finds himself in awe when baby megumi plays with you during both of your little meet ups outside of class to do the project. he's in love.
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© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE
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astrasng · 3 months ago
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Little high on you || N.J
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MINORS DNI!
pairing: idol!dom!jaemin x female!reader
summary: you and jaemin are old friends, spending the summer in a beach house under the influence. what could go wrong?
warnings: drugs and alcohol, handjob, oraljob, unprotected sex, thigh fucking (pls burry me) smoking and drinking, cursing,petnames (angel,baby,sweet girl,slut -oops) actually jaemin is kind of a switch here ^^
author's note: this has been sitting in my drafts for EVVAAA and i'm currently in my jaemin era again and APPARENTLY there are very little number of jaemin fics. (sad) so ig we're finally starting the jaemin list.
enjoy!
Jaemin was a sweet guy. You knew him for a long time now, years in fact. He was always polite to you and your family whenever he and the other members visited for holidays. His and your family often sat down together to chat about the two of you, and sometimes your family even invited his members to your beach house when the weather was nice. It was a good place to throw parties too.It would excite you every time just to think about being close to Jaemin again. You liked his company, and so did he like yours too.
So this is how you ended up in the same beach house on a hot dry summer day, wearing only your shorts and a flimsy tank top with a bikini under it. You were always comfortable around Jaemin and his friends, so you didn’t care about how you dressed. And the same goes to him too. He would occasionally take his shirt off if it was too hot, or wipe his forehead with his shirt when playing soccer with his friends. Your eyes couldn't help but wonder on his wide shoulders, the way he would laugh at his friends and then his abs would flex as he did so. It makes you bite your lip just at the thought.
But it happened the other way too. It took Jaemin so much not to pull you away from the others whenever you would push your cleavage together by accident when talking to someone as you bend over the kitchen island, or when you’d get out of the jacuzzi, the water sliding down on your body slowly, which drove him even crazier. His eyes would linger a little longer on your body when you decide to wear a slim dress on your night out. It drove him mad that he couldn’t get his hands on you in public, in front of everyone. He wanted to let everyone know that you were his, even if you weren’t even dating. Because when someone approaches you with a flirty demeanor, his blood boils.
The same happened tonight too, as you were rolling the wrapping papers together with Jeno sitting by your side on the couch, laughing as he would tell you stories about their tours. This wasn’t the problem, because Jaemin knows his best friend, and he knows you, but when he noticed Jeno being flirty after a few beers, he started being suspicious. You wouldn’t notice of course, because you liked his members so much and you wanted to have a good friendship with everyone. You would let his flirty interactions slip away and laugh due to the weed in your system. By the time you two finish wrapping the joints, Jeno lazily leans back on the couch and swings his arm around your shoulder. This makes you laugh as you light your cigarette. You are not thinking too much into this, considering that everyone is having a good time as the music in the house is blasting. As you inhale the joint deeper in your lungs, you sense Jeno moving on the couch.
“Wanna share it with me?” Jeno whispers, his mouth ghosting over your ear and it makes you chuckle. You turn your head in his way and see him already looking down at your lips. When you lift the joint to his lips, he shakes his head, motioning towards your lips when you blow out the smoke. You let out a smirk and take another puff, ready to shotgun it into Jeno’s mouth when suddenly someone pulls him up.
“Think I heard Mark calling for you in the kitchen. He was mixing some shit you asked for.” Jaemin looks down at the both of you, his eyes narrowing when he sees your state. Jeno jumps up and runs into the kitchen, leaving you two alone. Jaemin extends his hand towards you to take it, pulling you up softly from the couch.His hand slides softly around your waist, feeling him squeezing the flesh a few times as he walks towards the room he claimed when the whole group arrived in the house, pulling you softly inside. When he closes the door and turns around, he finds you already sitting on the couch with the joint in your hand.
You tilt your head to the side, looking up at him. You can clearly sense the tension in the air as you see his veins popping out on his neck. “Wanna join me?”
“Is this necessary? Is alcohol not enough?” He asks, his eyes glued on yours.
“Don’t judge until you don’t try it.” You giggle, your eyes trying to stay focused on Jaemin’s face as his dark hair decorates it. He thinks about it for a second, then plops down next to you. The weed wasn’t the problem for him, he wasn’t a judgy person to start with. The only thing that was bugging him, is that whenever you did something like that he was right next to you, keeping an eye on you just in case, but you didn’t even see him sometimes.
His arms automatically slide on the back of the couch, somewhat caging you in. “Fine.” He goes in for the joint but you stop him midway. When he looks at you with confusion, you shake your head.
You smirk before climbing on his lap, leaning him back as you plant your hands on his chest. You inhale once again, your fingers grabbing his chin to signal him to open his mouth slightly. When he opens his mouth, you lean closer to him, your mouth almost touching his as you blow the smoke into his.
Jaemin keeps his eyes on you the whole time, hands on your waist as you try not to squirm on his lap. The atmosphere went into a fuzzy, slow feeling. You had just entered the room with him, but you already feel like it’s filled up with smoke around the two of you. Your body is all hot, almost feeling his fingertips melt into your skin to your bones, Jaemin’s thin clothes keeping nothing from your eyes as you can see his body glistening from the hot weather. A smirk tickles the side of your mouth when you see Jaemin’s eyes searching for yours, his gaze softened but still sensual from being this close to you.
“I’m gonna explode if I can’t feel your lips, Y/N. I have been wanting to know how you taste for so long.” He can’t help but confess, his big dark eyes staring up at you as you softly wipe his hair back, making him lay his head on the back of the couch. Your hips ever so lightly grazing his lap to tease him more, getting him riled up.
“Is that so?” You hum, twisting the end of his hair slightly, taking another hit with your other hand. As you busy yourself, Jaemin softly inches closer to your exposed chest area, his lips pressing light and slow kisses on your flushed skin. He leaves a few red and big bruises ühere and there, licking at sucking at the soft flesh as he squeezes your body closer to his chest. You look down at him, your hand that was previously in his hair slides down to his chin, tilting it up again to share the intoxicating feeling. He gladly accepts, letting you press your lips to his, but not yet kissing him.
“Then I shouldn’t keep you waiting, hmm?” You whisper in his ear, pressing a light kiss after as you hear him groan slightly when you finally sit down on his very visible tent in his pants. You almost let yourself moan out his name when the fricktion finally reaches you, but you quickly attach your pink lips to his neck. Slowly, in circular motion you kiss at his collarbone, all the way up to his jawline.
“Are you teasing me now?”
He practically groans out, his hands keeping you close to him, his own body warmth radiating and keeping you warm. It makes you giggle as the words leave his mouth. “I enjoy hearing how desperate you are Nana~” You whisper in his ear again, biting down on his earlobe slightly. He feels like he should end this before he comes in his pants, but then the irresistible feeling catches up to him, and cloud fogs his mind slowly.
“Don’t worry,tonight, you’ll have me however you want me.”
-------------------
And Jaemin does have you, in every way he wants you. He has you where he imagined. Finally without those not so clothes-worthy clothing laying around on the ground as he lazily strokes your legs back and forth, his tongue sliding around your hardened nipples when he ever so lightly grazes his teeth on it. Hazy and glossy eyes staring at him when his slender fingers are ghosting your skin on your stomach, slowly inching to your heat where you need the most friction. It’s funny how desperate he was a few minutes earlier, almost begging you to kiss him finally,and now here you are, spread on the bed he slept the previous night. Jaemin himself drives you crazy, with his eyes and presence, making you feel all too small and not worthy to be on the planet with him, but when he laid you down on the white sheets which were swimming in his cologne, you knew you could finally kiss goodbye to your friendship with him. Jaemin knew it too, the minute you took off your clothes teasingly, keeping your eyes only on him when you undid the back of your bikini.
It was a miracle he didn’t come just from the sight, watching your body press against his as you sat back on him before he took you to bed.
His breathing is labored as he kisses your whole body. “I can’t get enough of you,doll.” He says, his words muffled as he can’t seem to detach from your skin. “Let me have you all night.”
“Please, Jaemin~” You whimper, feeling his fingers part your wet lips apart, his finger due to the slickness slides in easily inside your warm walls, making him groan out the minute as he can feel himself getting hard from the feeling. He’s been imagining how you’d taste on his tongue as he eats you out everywhere in his apartment. It didn’t matter to him, he just wanted to have you in any way possible.
“I finally have you, angel. I don’t intend on letting you go now.” He presses a kiss on your stomach, lowering himself down as he whispers against your skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll give everything to you.”
He can’t get enough of you, he thinks. It’s like something turned on inside of him, like someone spread glue on his hands, he never leaves your body as he softly kisses your aching core. You can’t help but whine, the feeling of his tongue on your pussy practically almost sending you into another universe.
“Pull your panties to the side for me, baby.” Jaemin whispers as he stands up, his hands gripping your plush thighs together, your ankles dangling on his shoulders, feeling his muscles flexing while composing himself. Jaemin tries so hard not to lose control, even in a state like this, when everything around him is happening in slow motion. The feeling helps him act more ‘natural’ around you, almost forgetting the situation you two are in.
You’re not his,and he’s not yours.
But does it really matter when the man in front of you spreads your pussy lips apart, keeping his eyes on you, watching every reaction you let out? A shiver goes over your body under his stare, his eyes more narrow than ever. “Are you feeling good, baby?”
All you do is nod and whine a little, trying to squirm away from his touch.
“Will you let me have you? Hmm?” He stares down at you, his fingers circling around your puffy clit while his other hand is holding you down, slightly pressing down on your lower stomach. His voice already almost made you come, just the pure vibration you feel even though your thighs as he squeezes them close to his clothed chest. Clothed chest. Why are you the only one naked?
“Answer me.”
“Yes! Please Jaemin, do something..” With a sigh you throw your head back, your body still fighting against his strength as his fingers are teasing your tight entrance once again. You couldn’t help but shudder again.
And then he pushed one finger inside, instantly finding your g-spot. “Are you going to let Jeno fuck you too?” He asks, his voice an octave lower, his skin glowing in the humid room. You want to shake your head at his pathetic question, but he slips another finger inside you. “Answer.”
“Jaemin–” You’re only able to moan out his name, your hands squeezing the sheets around you.
“Yeah baby, that’s me. Moan it louder for everyone” With his thumb he circles around your clit with force, the veins on his arms bulging out from keeping you in place. “Moan it so he can hear it too.” His voice is low,barely audible from your constand moans, but you oblige. You can feel your walls tightening around his fingers, your back arching unconsciously as you near your climax.
“Jaemin~~ I- I think I’m gonna-” As you whimper, Jaemin cuts you off by taking his fingers out, leaving you breathless as you blink up at him. “Take your panties off, angel.” He adds as he reaches for his shirt, pulling it over his head as he reveals his honey toned skin, his muscles glowing in slight sweat. When he notices that you took your panties off as he takes your thighs once again, and positions it on his shoulders on one side. The only things you can do is groan, your legs already numb from being up for so long.
“Good girl.” Jaemin groans out when he sees your glistening pussy, all waiting for him to be stretched. But he takes a big breath and unzips his pants, taking his leaking cock out. Your eyes almost fall out of their places when you see him for the first time. “Do you see this baby?” He taps it on the side of your thighs for you to see, making you whimper. “It’s all because of you. All wet and hard, just because you’re acting like a slut in front of everyone.” He hisses, dragging his tip all over the back of your thighs, the grip getting stronger. “Do you think you deserve it?”
“Yes!” You whimper again, craving for the feeling of him being inside you. You wanted this for so long, whenever you saw him in suits for galas or any kind of shows you wanted to throw yourself on him. He drove you crazy just as much as you did. But not in your wildest dream would you think that he would be the one being in control. Finally seeing him without clothes and his cock nearing your aching core, you let out another pathetic whine. “I deserve it…”
“Do you now?” With a smooth caress on your left thigh, he tilts his head to the side, humming before speaking up. “Let me see you touch yourself, pretty.”
His voice makes you bite your lip, your hand sliding all the way down to your clit, massaging it with need and lust. You immediately throw your head back at the sensation, the temperature inside the room almost hitting unbearable as your moans fill the room along with Jaemin’s groans. “That’s it…you look so pretty like this.”
With a shaky breath you continue working on your clit when you feel a sudden pressure on your thighs. Between your thighs.
You find Jaemin pushing his cock between your plush thighs, his eyebrows knitted together as he slowly pushes through the gap he created, muttering a low – “Fuck..” His grip on you tightens even more as slowly fucks his cock head in and out – leaving you breathless and almost forgetting your own task. The sensation of feeling his cock between your thighs, skin to skin, leaving trails of precum on your flushed red skin.
Suddenly, you feel his hand grabbing yours as he drags them down to your entrance slowly, his smirk only growing when he hears you cry out already knowing what he’s about to do. “Put them inside, baby. Or should I do it for you? Hmm?” He breathes, chuckling when you shake your head heavily, slowly pushing one finger inside.
“It’s not as good as yours..” You can’t help but mutter out, shutting your eyelids in shame, feeling your cheeks blooming in red color when he coos at you. “Aw, my baby can’t even pleasure themselves?” He thrust again while his fingers slowly guided another of your fingers inside you, stretching you out as you moaned uncontrollably. “See? It’s not so hard, is it?” As you only can think about him fucking your thighs as your fingers inside you, he sneakily pushed one of his fingers in your hole, making your almost scream from the stretch. “Nana–” With a whimper you warn Jaemin before your climax finally reaches you, the feeling unfolding in your stomach in waves, making you arch your back with a loud moan as you come around your and Jaemin’s fingers. You can hear him chuckle lowly as you keep massaging your clit while coming down from your high,
“There you go…you take it so well baby, don’t give up now.” With a groan he thrust inside your thighs one last time, seeing his tip leaking from precum, red and puffy as he kept himself back from actually coming. When he pulls back finally, he squats down to be eye level with your pussy coated in your arousal, making him groan out from the sight. “Baby,you did so well.” He smiles up at you, his big eyes filled with lust as he inches closer to your core. “Can I have a taste?”
He latches on your tight hole, tasting you on his tongue without waiting for an answer. Jaemin nearly comes from the taste, his hands gripping your sticky thighs so you can’t jump away from overstimulation.
“Jaem, it’s too – nghh..-- too much..”
“Just give me one more, I know you can do it.” His words are muffled due to him lapping at your juices like a starved man, moaning and groaning at your taste. The vibrations only bring you closer to your climax, until you reach it for the second time tonight. You feel like your whole body is going to blow up in any second as Jaemin continuously slurps up your arousal, not wasting one drop. When he’s finally satisfied with himself, he comes up, his lips shining with cum as he manhandles your legs to be on the side of his bed. Your whole body is situated sideways as he comes down closer to your lips, immediately melting his lips together with yours after waiting for so long. As you can taste yourself oh his lips and tongue, you let out another groan, your hand sneaking into his hair to tug on it. With lust filled eyes and an innocent smile, he looks at you;
“How about I make you fall apart on my cock, yeah?”
—------------
“Shh, it’s okay baby. I’m in…relax for me.” Jaemin groans beside you in your ear, his left arm keeping his body up so he can see your face and body, his cock disappearing inside your cunt. Your walls clamp down on him uncontrollably since he pushed his tip in, the delicious stretch making your eyes water as you squeeze the sheets in your hands. Jaemin is positioned behind you, one of his arms circled around your waist so he can reach your breast, flicking your nipples from time to time.
“Shit– why do you have to be so tight?” With a groan he pulls all the way out, slowly pushing himself back until he hits your cervix, making you arch your back.
With now all of the clothes gone from both of you, you can feel him everywhere perfectly. His sweat slightly touches your back as moves rapidly behind you. His arms bulging with veins as he aligns your head in a way he can deepen the kiss. His hair sticking to his forehead, just so you can swipe it out of his face. And him moving inside of you so freely, promising that he would pull out just in time. But both of you know that it’s a lie.
The simple thought of Jaemin filling you up with him cum makes you go crazy, imagining how it would drip out of you because of how much he came. He’d like to see that view too.
“I pictured this all the time.” He confesses, his hips moving with more force and quicker than before. As your whines get louder and louder he sneaks his hand up to your throat, caressing the skin there as he kisses the side of it. “Quiet down angel, unless you really want the world know who’s fucking you just right.” He groans again, feeling your warm walls squeezing him incredibly tight like you don't want to let him go.
You moaned as he slammed inside you, his hand now spreading your cheeks apart and squeezing the flesh in his palm while groaning in your ear. His thrusts were powerful, hard and steady as he buried his cock deep within you. “Fuck– you’re so pretty like this – all wet and warm, letting me use you however I want.” With another thrust you moan loudly, one of your hands flying back to bury your fingers in his hair.
“Come inside me, please — use me however you want–”
At your plea Jaemin lets out a moan, quickening his thrusts while leaving red bruises on your hips from squeezing them so much.
“Sweet girl, I’ll fill you up so everyone knows you’re mine,” He presses a kiss on your earlobe, then on the side of your neck. “Is that what you want?”
The question is obvious, but the way he’s asking it and waiting for you to answer, even though he knows you want it just as much as him. The way his cock hits the spot again and again brings him and you too on the edge, but Jaemin thinks of this as a priority – making you cum before him. So he takes his fingers and places it on your already abused clit, massaging it until he hears you constantly whimpering his name while tears are flowing down your cheeks.
“Say it, baby.”
“Yes! Fuck,! Yes I want you to fill me up Jaemin!” With a cry you come apart on his cock, pulsating around him as you nearly fall forwards on your elbows, your thighs shaking rapidly as you can’t seem to stop moaning. It’s the pushover for Jaemin too, hearing your cries and feeling you wrapped around him so nicely – only for him.
“Then it’s yours baby – all of it.” He moans beside your ear again, his finger still abusing your clit as he shoots ropes of his cum inside your warm walls, creating a creamy white ring at the base of his cock as it overflows. He takes a look down, smirking to himself as he gathers some on his finger which previously stimulated you — bringing it up to his mouth.
Your breath hitches as you see his eyes nearly roll back from the taste, feeling his cock slightly stirred awake again as he looks into your eyes.
“Don’t tell me–”
Jaemin pulls out with a hiss, feeling the temperature hitting his wet cock with a sudden wave as he positions himself to be on top of you entirely.
“As I said,” He grabs his cock by the base, swiftly tugging on it a few times before spreading your pussy lips apart again. “I don’t intend on letting you go now.”
Na Jaemin smirks with an innocent look before he makes you his all over again.
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ineffable-romantics · 1 year ago
Text
Some thoughts on why and how I believe Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship would incorporate sex/why I do not read them as wholly asexual:
This is something I've seen the most discourse about in this fandom, and I've had a few thoughts of my own that I really wanted to expand upon in a full meta/character analysis post. I do understand that this can be a contentious topic, so first, let me clarify a few things:
First of all, this is going to be long. Tbh it probably won't be that organized either. I ramble and I'm not very good at editing, so just... you know. Be warned. (*Hi, it's me from 2 days after writing this; I'm really not kidding, it's LONG)
These are all my own thoughts. They might not be hot takes, because recently I've seen more than a few people come to the same conclusions on a lot of these points as I have. But I've also had these notes in my drafts for about a week and a half now, and have been continuously adding to it as things have occurred to me. This post is essentially just somewhere for me to collect the separate but related meta I've been kicking around in my head.
I fully respect anyone who does see and prefer an asexual reading of this relationship. These are my own thoughts and interpretations as someone who is not asexual. I am in the LGBT+ community, so while I do know a few things about the asexuality spectrum, I am by no means an expert.
This is NOT something I expect, need, or even necessarily want the show (or, God forbid, Neil's tumblr ask box) to address. Tonally, it's just not that kind of show. Newt and Anathema's sex scene was very much played for laughs, and it worked for that reason. If the show found a way to address it in a way that was both appropriate for the tone of the show and ultimately satisfying, then great! But there is so much more to this relationship than sex, and I didn't need a kiss to confirm their love, so I certainly don't need a sex scene. As immortal beings (as I assume they'll stay) there is so much of the rest of their lives we'll never get to see. You can headcanon them as asexual and potentially be right. I can headcanon them as not and be equally potentially right. Again, these are just a collection of my own thoughts, because I think the question of sexuality (or lack thereof) is just as interesting a facet of these characters as any other.
Note: Tbh I've been second-guessing this whole post and debated deleting the whole thing several times for being silly or unnecessary, bc I don't want anyone to think that this is the only thing I care about when it comes to this story/characters. But if nothing else, it's inspired me to write in a way that nothing has in a very long time, so I've decided it's worth continuing, if for no other reason than that.
This is going to be a mixed bag of textual reading, subtextual reading, and a full-on reach or two. It's been a while since I've been in an English class, but if my teachers expected me to find a deeper meaning behind blue curtains, you can expect me to read too deeply into the symbolism of a loaded rifle or an ox rib. (This is probably not what my professors had in mind when grading my literary analysis papers but oh well) My point is, if it feels like a reach, I'm as aware of it as you are. I am in no way saying that all (or even any) of my points made were deliberate on the part of Neil or the actors or the writers or the directors. I am no longer the delulu Apple Tree Yard child of my youth, I promise.
If anything said here is in any way offensive or hurtful to anyone in the asexual community, please do not hesitate to message me or comment and let me know exactly what it was. I promise you it is not my intention to do so, and am happy to clarify or outright edit anything that reads that way.
With all that being said, let's talk about why I think Crowley and Aziraphale would absolutely fuck nasty incorporate sex into their relationship.
Note: I am out of practice with essay writing, so I think I'll just go down the bullet points of notes I have been making, and expand on each as best I can
Food
Where better to start than with Aziraphale's introduction to Pleasures Of The Flesh? (Just a heads up, this entire post may feel very Aziraphale-heavy, and with good reason).
This might be the least hot take here. We've all seen the Job minisode. We've all seen That Scene.
Whether this was intentional or not, the symbolism here is off the charts. Eve was tempted by an apple. So why not go a similar route and tempt Aziraphale with another fruit, or cheese, or bread, or literally anything else for his first experience with food? Instead, we go with a huge, glistening slab of fresh meat that he proceeds to absolutely go feral upon, moaning and gasping into his meal while Crowley watches with what definitely doesn't look to be disgust or even satisfaction with a good temptation. There's surprise at the ferocity of Aziraphale's appetite, certainly. But ultimately he looks to be intensely fascinated by it, while the thunder crashes, the music crescendos, and the earth literally shakes around them.
(It's also interesting to note how very little it takes for Crowley to tempt him with the ox rib. One murmured suggestion, a bit of unwavering eye contact, and vavoom Aziraphale immediately meets him in the middle.)
Cut to Aziraphale devouring the rest of the meat with Crowley splayed back on a makeshift bed, drinking wine and continuing to watch him indulge through half-lidded eyes. Outside a thunderstorm rages while they're learning secrets about each other in warm flickering firelight. It's cosy, it's intimate, and if they'd thrown in a bearskin throw blanket, it might as well be a post-coital scene straight out of Game of Thrones.
The next time (chronologically) we see them discuss food is when Aziraphale "tempts" Crowley with oysters in Rome. So Crowley first tempts Aziraphale with meat and then Aziraphale tempts Crowley with what is widely regarded to be an aphrodisiac. Interesting.
And then chronologically after that, the Arrangement begins to form, which has always reeked of a friends with benefits situation. Just to throw that in there.
It's What Humans Do
In the very first episode, we're shown Gabriel's obvious disgust and bewilderment towards Aziraphale eating sushi, calling it "gross matter" and being proud of the fact that he does not sully his body with it. Aziraphale initially tries to defend his own enjoyment in it, before passing it off as something that humans do, as something he simply has to do in order to blend in (which we know very well is not the case).
He does this again in season 2, passing off Nina and Maggie being in love as "something humans do". But it isn't, is it? Angels are beings of love, and can sense it, and understand very well what it is... up to a point. Even romantic love is obviously within their wheelhouse, given what we now know happened between Gabriel and Beelzebub (we'll come back to them).
What the "humans do" that angels wouldn't understand is messy, physical forms of love.
But here's the thing: Aziraphale and Crowley love doing what the humans do. They love drinking, they (or at least Aziraphale) love eating. They love music. Crowley loves driving and sleeping and watching rom-coms and sitcoms. Aziraphale loves reading and doing magic and earning little licenses and certificates for achievement in his various hobbies. They love to playact at being human so much that they've stopped playacting and started building a genuinely human lifestyle for themselves and with each other.
Once together in an unambiguously romantic sense, why do we think they wouldn't also want to explore one of the most prominent, intimate, powerful human expressions of love and desire with each other?
Angels, Demons, & Asexuality
Here's where I really want to clarify that in no way do I mean that sex is necessary for a healthy, fulfilling, and loving romantic relationship, or that the lack of desire for sex makes you any less human. Asexuality is a sexuality as valid and human as any. What I would say is that it is definitely in the human minority compared to allosexuality.
Angels and demons, on the other hand, are predominately asexual. Sexless/genderless unless Making An Effort. (Which, btw, is a concept introduced as early as the original book; why even bring it up as a possibility? Why not keep angels/demons being sexless/asexual as a hard and fast rule, if not to open up the potential for later use? Chekhov's Effort, if you will. And isn't that something that Aziraphale in particular is shown to do time and time again? He makes an effort in French and driving and magic, doesn't he?)
And this is why I don't believe Aziraphale and Crowley necessarily need to be asexual, narratively. There is already a huge amount of ace rep within the angels and demons (and no, not just the horrible ones. Muriel also doesn't "drink the tea" and has no reason or desire thus far to Make An Effort, and there are certainly other angels and demons who aren't horrible like the archangels seem to be who likely wouldn't Make An Effort either).
The central conflict for Aziraphale and Crowley is that they are on their own side, the ones who went native, the ones who are so different in so many ways from their respective hives. It would make sense for them to also break away from traditional angel/demon asexuality.
I say "traditional angel/demon asexuality", because I would also like to note that I would absolutely not rule out demisexuality for either of them. This post is being written to as a response to people who specifically believe that they (like the rest of the angels/demons seem to be) would be sex-averse in a relationship, and that it wouldn't be a factor in their relationship. I could easily read them as demisexual, but I do think there would be no real way of verifying this, because they've never been able to form as close an emotional relationship with anyone else but each other. Certainly not in heaven, and I can't imagine they would be able to form that kind of attachment with any of the humans, who they love and emulate but ultimately regard as the separate species they are. So yes, they could either be allosexual or demisexual, in my opinion.
Then again, now that I think about it, Making An Effort itself could be a great metaphor for demisexuality, since they would be entirely sexless/asexual until they have enough of an emotional connection with someone to consciously manifest otherwise. Since the other angels and demons don't generally form those types of emotional connections with anyone, there hasn't been a precedent for it.
Except...
Brielzebub
We do have a precedent for it now, don't we? Gabriel and Beelzebub fell in love. They are a direct foil for Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship, speedrunning right through their courtship and finding their happily ever after on the other side of things.
For being such a 1 to 1 comparison, it feels deliberate that they did not kiss. They held hands, they were gooey with each other, but they did not kiss. That feels like such a deliberate thing to omit when you know what's to come at the end of the episode between Crowley and Aziraphale.
And going back to the food = sex metaphor for a moment, let's notice how even as they fell in love over the years, even when pints and crisps were there on the table in front of them, they never felt the desire to reach out for them. They didn't need to. It's a date (love story) even if you aren't eating dinner (sleeping together).
Yes, I know Jim liked hot chocolate. No, I am not counting it because I don't consider Jim and Gabriel to be the same person with the same proclivities, and Jim was highly suggestible at the time anyway.
Gabriel and Brielzebub's big happily ever after moment (as of now) was one between two asexual supernatural beings. They did not need to kiss to drive the point home. They showed what Crowley and Aziraphale could have, if they would only acknowledge it.
Crowley & Aziraphale's Dissatisfaction
But they do have that already, don't they? If you really think about it, what do Gabriel and Beelzebub do with each other that Crowley and Aziraphale don't already? They hold hands, they spend time together, they create little rituals, they give gifts, they're visibly and verbally affectionate with each other, etc. They are more or less already in a romantic asexual marriage relationship with each other, aren't they?
And it doesn't seem to be enough for either of them.
At the beginning of the season, Crowley is immediately shown to be unsatisfied with the way things are. Obviously part of it comes from living in his car, but it seems to be more than that (especially since Aziraphale makes it clear that the bookshop is just as much Crowley's as his, implying that he could have been living there the whole time and is choosing not to, for some reason?). You could argue he's feeling unmoored without Hell telling him what to do, but isn't that what he wanted? Isn't that what he still wants, by the end of the season? All season long, he's never indicated the desire for a new job, or a new project. He stopped the apocalypse because he wanted the freedom to openly spend time with Aziraphale, to spend his time on Earth however he sees fit. Until Gabriel arrives, he has exactly that (minus a flat).
So where does the dissatisfaction come from? And if it represents anything to do with his relationship, what does he want out of it that he isn't getting already?
I think Crowley only really comes to the realisation of what he's missing when Nina names it for him, not only putting them in the category of romantic, but physical (outright asking if they are sleeping together). These two posts [1], [2] go into more detail about what I mean, but I think it really pushes him into acknowledging that their relationship is more human than either of them have stopped to consider, and what that might mean as far as everything a human relationship can entail.
After all, Nina and Maggie only advised that he should talk to Aziraphale, make clear his feelings. The decision to kiss him, to tip them over the edge from nonphysical to physical, that was all him. And no, kissing isn't sex, but I wonder how taboo even that might be in the kind of all-encompassing asexuality most angels seem to identify with. (If they're disgusted by food and drink, I can only imagine what they think of snogging, much less sex.)
Aziraphale doesn't have this moment of someone observing their relationship from the outside. He loves Crowley, and as of 1941 probably even knows he's in love with him in a way that Crowley doesn't understand yet. Which makes sense, since love is technically his job, he'd be more likely to recognise it for what it is.
However, Aziraphale's reference for romance and relationships is Jane Austen. It's chaste. It's dancing and dinner and doing sweet things for each other and roses and candles and handholding. He contextualises his love for Crowley in that soft fantasy sort of way, where it's there, it's obviously there, but it's neat and easy and unspoken. Not to quote Glee in this, the year of our lord 2023, but it's all very "the touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets".
Someone should tell that to Aziraphale's face, then.
I'm not going to pretend I know what Michael Sheen's script notes were, but there were definitely some Choices™ made. Because yes, there were plenty of moments in both seasons with Aziraphale looking at Crowley in a sweet, loving, smitten way. And then there were moments that were yearning.
But yearning for what, exactly? All of those sappy Jane Austen tropes already apply to the two of them. So why are there moments where Aziraphale is looking Crowley up and down like the last eclair in the window and licking his lips and visibly exhaling like he's trying to get in control of himself (see: Bastille scene + Crowley telling Muriel to ask him if they have any other questions about love)? Why is Aziraphale not only unconcerned when Crowley shoves him bodily up against a wall in s1, but staring at his lips and a beat too late in noticing Sister Mary's arrival? Why are some of his lines so suggestive? I'm sorry, but the car ride after the church explosion might as well have been the beginning of a Pizza Man porn with a really weird Blitz theme. If even my mother picked up on that vibe, I can't imagine it wasn't intentional on part of both the dialogue and the delivery.
(This section may feel like more of a reach/joke, but I'm really only 20% joking. These are writers and actors who are EXTREMELY good at their jobs; they know what they were doing here.)
More importantly, I don't think Aziraphale is even aware that there is more to what he wants. He lives in the Jane Austen fantasy and it never even occurs to him that he might be interested in anything further. It never even occurs to him that, as an angel, there is anything further to be interested in in the first place. Until Crowley forces it to occur to him. Just like I believe Nina forced Crowley to confront the idea that romantic love is what he's been feeling all along, I believe Crowley forced Aziraphale to confront the idea that physical intimacy is something he's been wanting, without even realising.
Aziraphale's Hedonism
Expanding on Aziraphale for a moment. We talked about his relationship with food, but we all know that Aziraphale is defined by his love of things that Feel Good.
It isn't just that he and Crowley love human things. Aziraphale loves the best of the best, or at least his version of it. He doesn't just love food, he loves going to fancy restaurants. He doesn't just love clothes, he loves soft, cosy, warm, plush clothes, or shiny, flashy, bougie fashion. He loves the warmth of tea and cocoa, loves getting drunk, and sitting in a comfy chair in the sunlight. He doesn't just experience, he indulges.
Given the emphasis put on things that Aziraphale loves just because they Feel Good, it feels narratively strange to assume that he wouldn't enjoy the feeling of being touched, or that he wouldn't be willing to try it, at least once, with someone he cared very deeply for. And just like the ox rib, I think that once he gets the first taste of things, he would absolutely tip over into complete and utter self-indulgence.
Dancing
I also think that dancing could be construed as a huge metaphor here. After all, we're told flat-out that angels don't Dance. Except one.
I would argue that Aziraphale, in fact, Made An Effort to learn how to Dance. He threw himself into the gavotte with delight (at a Victorian gay club; noted) and worked hard to be good at it. He's chomping at the bit to Dance with Crowley, working up the nerve to ask him with undeniably romantic intent and eagerness. So, angels don't Dance... unless they Make An Effort to do so.
We are told that demons, on the other hand, do Dance, but not well. Makes sense, since they're the ones who would want to encourage a deadly sin like lust, but have as little understanding of human love and physical intimacy as the angels. Crowley, however, is shown to be an excellent dancer at the ball, especially in his compatibility with Aziraphale.
(But Aziraphale WandaVisioned the ball so everyone knew how to dance! Yes, he did. However, the rest of the brainwashing doesn't seem to affect Crowley in any way, and they did actually live through the time period where this sort of dancing was a social norm; I'd be surprised if he never needed to learn. After all, the demons can't spell either, and Crowley is at least functionally literate, as far as we know.)
As of today, it's also been confirmed that when Aziraphale asked Crowley to dance, Crowley replied with "you don't dance." Not "WE don't dance". So going along with the metaphor, Crowley is just now discovering that Dancing is something Aziraphale is interested in at all, much less with him, and not denying that he himself is interested in Dancing. In his defense, I believe he was asleep for a few years while Aziraphale was learning the gavotte, so he wasn't exactly aware of Aziraphale's hot girl summer.
Love Languages
I want to expand on that; Crowley and Aziraphale's compatibility. Specifically in regards to their individual love languages.
We all know Crowley's love language is Acts of Service. I don't think there's any debate there. He loves it, Aziraphale loves it, they're both aware of it, we're all aware of it, God and Satan are aware of it, no surprise there.
You may disagree with me, but I believe Aziraphale's love language is Physical Touch, for a number of reasons. One of which being his aforementioned hedonism. Aziraphale likes things that Feel Good, remember? He likes soft clothes, and well-worn books. Neil himself has said that they like holding hands. And any time he is taken by surprise (Brielzebub getting together, the wave of love in Tadfield, etc.) what is the first thing he does? Reaches out for Crowley. He stops him with a hand to the chest in the pub. He leads him by the hand to the dance floor. He guides him by the waist in the graveyard. He reaches out during the entire Brielzebub scene, whether he can reach Crowley or not. Despite his own turmoil, he grasps at Crowley's back during the kiss.
The one time Crowley reaches out for him (not counting the kiss yet; we'll get there), he is aggressively pushed against a wall (by someone he loves and trusts) with a complete and utter lack of concern (and perhaps some interest, depending on how you read it).
And when he isn't reaching out for anyone, or there isn't anyone to reach out to? Well, he's wringing his own hands together, squeezing his own fingers, as if to find that physical comfort in himself.
So. With that theory in mind, we have Aziraphale (Physical Touch) + Crowley (Acts of Service). Throw in 6000+ years of deep love, cherished companionship, and forcibly repressed longing, and there is a very real potential of this combination resulting in fierce sexual compatibility. Where Aziraphale would want to touch and be touched, to indulge in physical pleasure with someone he adores, in the same the way he indulges in every other fine thing in his life. And where Crowley would want to indulge him in return, to give him everything he wants, and to take pleasure in Aziraphale's pleasure, in the same way he enjoys watching him take joy in food everything else.
So Aziraphale is an angel who is insecure about his own less-than-holy desires, who would want to treat Crowley like a luxury to be touched and cherished and adored. And Crowley is a demon who has, over the millennia, been unhappy about how they've been forced to deny even their friendship with each other, who would want Aziraphale to feel comfortable and safe and encouraged to indulge in earthly delights. That sounds like a stunning recipe for sexual compatibility to me.
"You said 'trust me'" / "And you did"
Just like the Job minisode, the Blitz is RIFE with symbolism (intentional or otherwise). This one will be quick, but I did want to touch on it because I thought it was interesting. Maybe I'm reaching at this point, but I'm assuming you read the tin.
First of all, Crowley not wanting to admit to never firing a gun before; comes off as someone who very much does not want to admit to their crush that they're a virgin ("You must have done this lots of times!" / "Umm.... yyyyyeah.")
(You could make the argument that Aziraphale having a firearms license and a Derringer in a hollowed-out book is symbolic of him not being a virgin while Crowley is. I disagree, for reasons I'll go into later, but it's a valid reading. However, I see it more like keeping a condom in your wallet; it's there in case you need it, but the opportunity has not yet risen no pun intended.)
More importantly, the theme of this entire minisode is trust. We already know they trust each other with their lives against the rest of Heaven, Hell, and the world. But specifically, this is about the importance of having complete trust in your partner in a charged, physically vulnerable, intimate moment, where the only danger is between the two of you.
Aziraphale needs to believe Crowley would never hurt him if he can help it. Crowley needs to trust Aziraphale's unwavering blind faith in him. Frankly, it all feels very symbolic of two people deeply in love losing their respective virginities with each other.
The trick is a success, and they share an intimate candlelit dinner in which they reaffirm their faith in each other. Aziraphale also begins to voice his agreement with Crowley, that maybe Heaven's rules shouldn't have to be as black and white as they are, and that there are benefits to... blurring the lines, shades of grey, wink wink (at which point even my mom was like, whoa guys, this is a family show).
Btw also: Can we all agree how much it looked like Crowley was getting ready to get a lapdance in that one scene? You know the one.
Also also: "Aim for my mouth"? Come on.
The Birds & The Bees
Now that I think of it, there's also something to be said for the fact that Crowley and Aziraphale are both obviously familiar with where babies come from (how they're made and how they're born) while the other angels aren't.
Something something Aziraphale and Crowley fundamentally understand sex and reproduction in a way the other angels (and probably demons) very much do not, nor have any desire to.
Probably not important. Just thought it was worth mentioning.
The Kiss™ & Religious Trauma
The Kiss. Where to even begin?
This has definitely been the hardest one to start, because there is so much going on here that I definitely won't be able to cover it all, and will certainly miss a few things here and there.
Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss afterwards is the most interesting to me. And I don't mean directly after, I don't mean the "I forgive you" part. I mean the way he touches his lips when Crowley is no longer in the room and he no longer needs to save face, when he is completely alone. Had it been directly after the kiss, it would have been rightfully read as horror, or disgust, a shield to discourage further action.
It's not. It isn't just a touch, it's a press. As desperate and angry and unexpected and imperfect as the kiss had been, Aziraphale is pressing it into himself, recreating the feeling as best he can. Beneath all the poor timing and shock and hurt from their fight and fallout, I think it's fair to say that it was something he enjoyed. Something he doesn't think he should enjoy, something that Feels Good that he only allows himself to indulge in when completely alone.
Remember, Aziraphale's idea of love is Jane Austen and gentleness and courtship and fantasy. If he'd ever even considered kissing an option, it might have been gentle pecks, cheek kisses, forehead kiss, hand kisses. Soft, safe, chaste affection.
Crowley's kiss turns all of that on its head. He introduces physical intimacy in a very real, very messy, very human way that I don't think Aziraphale ever even considered could apply to them. Considering what other angels are like and what they look down on, even Aziraphale's Jane Austen fantasies probably would have been considered taboo.
So for their first kiss to be rough and desperate and passionate in the way it was, of course he was confused and in shock. It was deeply physical, and as overwhelming and awful as it was in the moment, it Felt Good. Enough that he grasped at Crowley and kissed back, if only just for a moment, before stopping himself. Enough that he actively pressed it into his lips afterwards, in private, to remember.
I adore how Neil has decided to evolve these characters past the first book/season. More so in this season, Aziraphale and Crowley have both become such interesting allegories for queer people on either side of the spectrum of toxic religion. Aziraphale in particular obviously, because he is the side that so desperately wants to believe, to make a difference, and to unlearn all of the propaganda he's been fed over such a long time. Just like so much of organised religion, there is so much that he is told, time and time again, that he should not want, that he is silly or stupid or outright wrong for wanting. It reminds me so much of the severe Catholic guilt one might feel for wanting/engaging in sex for the first time, and the stigma of being queer layered on top of that.
What is so critical to Aziraphale's character is that he goes on wanting, and more than that, actively pursues. He was convinced to go up against Heaven and Hell and stop all of Armageddon because he wanted to go on listening to music and eating lunch and reading books and enjoying the simple company of the person he cares most deeply for, even if that person is supposed to be the enemy.
All this to say that if angels are as generally asexual/sex-averse as I believe them to be, narratively speaking, it would make sense for Aziraphale to be singular in that regard as well. Mirroring his first experience with food, it would make sense for Crowley to be the one to first introduce this new messy, physical, human dynamic between them, for Aziraphale to hesitate (obviously we are at the Hesitation phase at the moment), and then (eventually) for him to dive in wholeheartedly, to absolutely glut himself on this new thing that Feels Good. It would make sense for his character development to show him overcoming his metaphorical Catholic guilt and pursuing the sexual intimacy most (if not all) of the other angels would scorn.
(I can't help but remember that plot idea Neil described from the unwritten sequel, with Aziraphale in a hotel room trying to watch a full porno by way of the free 2-minute teaser clips so he wasn't technically sinning by paying for it. I so hope this is used in season 3, because gosh, I wonder why Aziraphale would suddenly be so interested in observing human physical intimacy after 6,000 years. Lonely and doing a little surreptitious research there, angel?)
Crowley, on the other hand, is the queer person who has broken free from his toxic religion. He prides himself on being his own person, on their his own side. He doesn't have the hang-ups Aziraphale does. He doesn't worry that he's going to be judged or cast aside for wanting things he's not supposed to. So it only makes sense for him to be the first one to suggest/initiate physical intimacy. It makes sense for him to be the one who "goes too fast" (another fantastic example of this dynamic beginning as early as s1; what is that conversation in the car meant to represent, if not Aziraphale being overwhelmed by the intensity of their relationship, and his fear of succumbing to it when he believes he shouldn't? It's also interesting that this is the first conversation to take place in Soho, just after watching Aziraphale realise he's caught feelings for a demon, with the red glow of lust serving as the backdrop).
Do I think the kiss in and of itself was sexual? No. I think it was a passionate and devastating last-ditch effort on Crowley's part to convey the way he feels for Aziraphale. Not just that he loves him, but that he loves him in the most human way possible. But I do think that the kiss represents how they can move forward from here, and what they might want to explore with each other once they feel free enough to do so.
In Conclusion
I am sure, deep in my bones (unless we are explicitly told otherwise), that this was both of their first kisses no, I'm not counting the gavotte, and that neither of them have ever thought to do anything else physical with the humans while they have been on Earth. Like I said before, they adore the human race and lifestyle in general, but ultimately view them as a separate species altogether, and they seem mostly happy to keep to themselves and each other, unless otherwise necessary. I just can't see either of them being drawn enough to a human to pursue anything close to sex. If Crowley in particular has had anything to do with sex in the context of temptations, I'm positive he would be inciting lust amongst the humans themselves, not involving himself directly. At least not that directly.
So, like every other human experience they've had on Earth, sex is something new that they could explore together, just the two of them, on their own side. A deeply intimate, tangible declaration of their love and everything they've gone through to earn it. A visceral finger to give both Heaven and Hell. A renewed appreciation for their corporations and for each other's. A enjoyable method for immortal beings to simply pass the time in each other's company. A new and exciting way to Feel Good, and all the variations that come with it.
You might agree with this post, or you might not. Whether this is something that is ever addressed or not, it doesn't matter to me. This is a brilliant love story either way, and I genuinely feel so privileged to witness it.
But I just can't find it in myself to imagine, given everything we know about these two characters, that sex isn't an experience they would both consume with wholehearted enthusiasm, curiosity, and profound, ineffable adoration.
___________________________________
Bonus feature: the very silly notes I made to myself that inspired this post
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lostgirlmuseum · 1 year ago
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Who the Hell is Daryl?
Summary: Bucky is in love with you, and finally finds the courage to tell you. But what happens when it sounds like someone else is already in the picture? (Miscommunication!)
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Avenger!Reader
Words: 2k
Warnings: Miscommunication trope! Only one small mention of “Y/N”, teensy bit of yelling, let me know if I missed anything.
A/N: Wrote this a couple days ago and put it in drafts, spontaneously posted bc I'm procrastinating on an essay. Okay I'll get back to hw now :(
Dividers: @firefly-graphics
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He was going to do it. He was really going to do it. 
He was finally going to ask you out.
-----
To the surprise of everyone on the team, you and Bucky had become fast pals after you joined six months ago. Something about the two of you clicked. ‘Opposites attract’ and all that, but Bucky always felt it went deeper than that.
The two of you had never argued, something he felt very proud of, considering he argued with most people. But not you. Never you.
The moment he decided that he needed to man up and ask you out wasn’t anything fancy. You were sparring with Wanda across the gym, and he was simply watching you work in tandem. He watched the entire 15 minute session, and didn’t take his eyes off you, even as you approached him. 
“Buck, I’m out of water, can I take a sip of yours?”
He nodded, “Sure, Doll,” and tossed you his bottle. 
You shot him a charming smile and opened the cap, and not-so-gracefully chugged half the bottle. You wiped your upper lip and handed it back to him. 
“Thanks, Jamie,” you breathily said, and jogged back to the arena. 
His head was completely empty except for a single thought, tumbling through his desert mind like a tumbleweed.
I’m going to marry her someday.
He shocked himself with the thought, he wasn’t sure where it had come from. But he couldn’t help the grin that snuck its way onto his lips as he realized he didn’t disagree with the thought.
Of course before marriage is dating. One step at a time Buck. 
After his realization, he had spent the next three days planning the perfect way to ask you out. He went through an entire list of ideas, but none of them seemed good enough for you. He wanted it to be perfect. But as the clock ticked on and he started running out of paper, he realized it was best to just be honest about his feelings. 
You had just gotten back from a solo mission, and Bucky was hanging out in your room as you showered.
He was blushing like an idiot and fidgeting like crazy on your bed as he waited for you to hurry up. It was surprising he had so much self control as to not blurt it out while you were showering.
“Oh, Bucky,” you called from the bathroom, the sound of the water pausing.
“What’s up?”
“Could you set an alarm on my phone for 7:30 A.M. tomorrow before I forget? I think I left it on the side table.”
“You got it, Doll.”
“You’re the best! I’m almost done, I’ll be out in like two minutes,” you called, and soon after the sound of rushing water resumed.
Bucky grabbed your phone and typed in the passcode, his heart fluttering a little as he thought about how you trusted him enough to know it.
But the flutter stopped almost as quickly as it started, the moment your phone turned on and resumed on your text string with someone. He would’ve ignored it, but a red heart at the top of the screen caught his eye.
Who the hell is “Daryl,” and why does he have a heart emoji next to his name?
Bucky couldn’t help himself as his eyes flitted over your last texts.
Daryl ❤️ I’m back in town, lemme know when you’re around 
You About to leave for a quick mission, but I’ll be back tmw evening. I miss you sm :( how about we meet up Monday morning at 8 at Bernie’s cafe?
Daryl ❤️ Lets do it. And I miss you too, can’t wait to see your beautiful face!! I love you, be careful
You Love you too, and Im always careful 😘
Bucky felt sick to his stomach. You had never mentioned a brother named Daryl, or any other kind of family member. And you’d told him about all your closest friends, and none of them were named Daryl. How did Bucky not know you had a boyfriend?
Bucky fought the urge to scroll up, and quickly tapped out of the app, and set the alarm you asked him to set. 
So you were meeting this “Daryl” tomorrow morning?
Bucky heard the water stop, and the sound of the shower curtain shuffling.
Shit. You were getting out. Fuck, he wasn’t ready to face you.
You’d never mentioned you were in a relationship before. He would remember. How long have you been dating? And more importantly, why did you keep this from him? Did you feel like you couldn’t trust him? Maybe you weren’t as close friends as he’d thought.
“Which movie did you want to watch tonight?” You asked, peeking out of the door with a turquoise towel wrapped around you.
“Um, I’m actually really tired, suddenly. I think I’m going to go to bed.” Bucky stuttered, avoiding your gaze as he quickly stood up.
“Oh, okay,” you responded, disappointment and concern lacing your voice. “Everything okay?”
“Everything is fine. Glad you got back safe. Good night.”
With that, Bucky ducked out of your room and practically ran back to his.
Bucky tossed and turned, and once he got over his embarrassment, he settled into a familiar depressive feeling. Of course you didn’t like him back. What the fuck was he thinking? He’s—well, he’s Bucky. Broken, only destined to ever be your friend. How could he be foolish enough to think you would love him like he loves you. At about hour 4, the heartbreak started turning into betrayal. Betrayal that you kept this from him. And soon enough, that betrayal festered into a kind of resentment, something he’d never felt for you before.
He didn’t get much sleep that night.
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Bucky checked the clock for the 20th time in the past 5 minutes. 7:45 A.M. You were probably about to leave. Bucky felt his heart clench. He was usually up by 7, and eating breakfast in the common area by 7:30. He sat at the barstool, dragging his spoon around his now soggy Coco Puffs, waiting for you to appear. Why he felt the need to torture himself, he didn’t know.
Finally, he heard your steps coming down the hall. 
And there you appeared, wearing the most beautiful sundress he had ever seen. It was lavender, and had small white flowers adorning the skirt, and it fell just above your knees. 
Bucky took you in, and his momentary adoration turned back to his heartbreak. You were dressed up as if you were going on a date. There was no chance this wasn’t your boyfriend.
“Good morning Bucky, did you sleep okay last night?” 
“Yes.” He lied. Maybe you would tell him the truth if he asked. Yes it would hurt hearing the truth from your mouth, but he wanted to give you a chance to tell him your secret. “Where are you headed?”
“To meet a friend,” you nodded smoothly. 
Maybe Bucky was crazy. Maybe he was overthinking all of this. Maybe Daryl really was just a friend.
“Which friend?”
“Penny.”
So you were just flat out lying to him now. Bucky nodded and waited for you to leave before moping back to his room. He wanted to cry. And he did for a minute, or two, but his tears turned from sad to angry when he remembered you were now lying. You never lied to Bucky, and Bucky never lied to you. At least, he thought that was how it was. He clenched his fists, mad at you for betraying him, but more mad at himself for believing he could ever have you.
He didn’t move from his bed.
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“Bucky?” Your voice emerged after three knocks to his door.
He couldn’t get himself to respond. 
The door slowly creaked open, a stream of light flooding his dark room.
“Hey Buck. You okay? You seemed a little off this morning.”
“Fine.” He mumbled, not turning over in bed to face you.
A pause. 
“Jamie, what’s wrong?” You asked, closing the door behind you and flicking on the light. 
“Don’t call me that.”
“What?” You asked, slightly taken aback. You thought he loved your affectionate nickname for him.
“I don’t want you to call me ‘Jamie’ anymore.”
“Okay…”
He felt the bed dip as you sat next to him. 
“Bucky,” you whispered, “please talk to me.”
He sat up and gave you a pointed look. Was he being immature? Yes. But what could he do, he just discovered that his best friend has been lying to him, and doesn’t love him.
“Where were you?” He asked.
You furrowed your brows a moment, trying to piece together where he was going with this. 
“I was at Bernie’s with Penny.”
“Don’t lie to me.” He sneered.
Your eyes widened at his bite.
“I’m not lying? Bucky, what is going on?”
“What’s going on is that you’ve been keeping the fact that you have a boyfriend from me. Why don’t you want to tell me?”
“A boyfriend?” You blinked. “I don’t have a boyfriend,”
“Why won’t you be honest with me?” He yelled, and you scooted back.
“I am!”
“Then who is Daryl?”
“What?”
“I saw your texts last night, when you asked me to set your alarm.” Bucky looked down at his lap, ashamed.
“Bucky,” you sighed, and a look of understanding crossed your face. A moment later you held out your phone to him.
“What?” He asked, dumbly looking at your outstretched hand. The screen was on your text string with Daryl.
“Call the number.” You simply said.
“What?” He repeated.
“Take my phone, and call the number.”
Confused and suspicious, Bucky grabbed your phone and hesitated over the call icon. 
“Go ahead,” you urged.
He pressed the button. 
Ring.
Ring.
Ri—
“Hey!” A familiar feminine voice rang through the speaker. “What’s up hon?”
“Hello?” Bucky said, looking from the phone to you to the phone.
“Uh, hi? Is that Bucky?”
“P—Penny?” He sputtered.
“Hey Bucky! What’s up, is everything okay? I thought Y/N was calling.”
“Hey Pen,” you interjected, “Everything’s fine, I’ll call you back in a bit, kay’?”
“Sure thing, bye, love ya,” Penny added, and hung up.
Bucky stared at the now blank phone, baffled.
“I don’t understand.”
“Bucky,” you sighed, and tilted his chin to look at you. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Penny is in my contacts as “Daryl” because it’s my funny little nickname for her. My Dad has had a best friend since grade school named Daryl, and they don’t see each other often, but when they do it’s like nothing has changed. They get along like no time has passed. I call Penny “my Daryl” because I know that even if we don’t talk for years, we are so close that I know we would be the exact same.”
Bucky sat quietly for a moment, simply taking in your story. He felt really stupid.
“I’m sorry,” he started, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry I called you a liar.” He struggled to meet your gaze, ashamed of what he did.
“Jamie—can I call you Jamie now?”
He nodded sheepishly.
“Jamie, I forgive you. But I wish you had just talked to me about it, and asked me. We are usually so good about being open with each other. What happened?” You asked, wide eyes looking into his.
“I know, I’m sorry. I flipped out, I guess I was just shocked, because I was going to—” he licked his lips, “well, I was…”
“You can tell me, Bucky. Honesty, remember?” You soothed, placing your hand on his leg.
He gulped.
“I was going to ask you to be with me.”
You tilted your head, not quite understanding.
“Like, I was gonna ask if you’d let me be your boyfriend.” He mumbled. “So when I saw that you were texting and saying ‘I love you’ to some guy, I guess I was just blindsided.”
“James,” you smiled, moving yourself to sit on his lap. You brought your forehead against his. “You silly, jealous man.” You gently stroked his cheek with your right hand. “You want to be my boyfriend?"
"It sounds so juvenile, I don't know, I just want you to be mine, and for you to call me 'yours,'" he mumbled.
"I accept," you giggled, and watched his glittering eyes shoot to yours.
He had started to say something, but he stopped when you brought your soft lips to his.
“I'm so happy,” he whispered between kisses.
Suffice it to say, Bucky completed step one of the path to marrying you.
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A/N: Tysm for reading! If you liked it, please feel free to let me know!
Also I'm sorry if the ending sucks, I wrote this in a couple hours and Idk why I'm so bad at endings gahh
Here's my Masterlist if you'd like to read more!
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alisonwritesimagines · 1 year ago
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Please Don't Be In Love With Someone Else ~LA!Shanks x Reader x LA!Mihawk Imagine~
Summary: You keep waiting for Shanks. But someone new comes along and suddenly, you're not so lonely.
Author’s Note: You read the title correctly. I'm evilly laughing right now as you read this in pain. Also, this is technically a rewrite of the angst ending cause the one I wrote and in my drafts is more fluff than angst.
Angst Ending to I Was Enchanted to Meet You
Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her
Warnings: angst, fluff, but angst to all you Shanks lovers
Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!
Do not repost this anywhere!
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It had been years since you last saw Shanks. And it's been a year since you last saw Luffy. Ever since he was old enough to sail off in the world to find the One Piece to become King of the Pirates, you had been by yourself since. Of course you did a lot for your small village to keep you occupied but you still missed your boys.
You were tending to your garden as it was time for you to harvest before it became spoiled and over grown. That was until you heard someone say something behind you.
“You don’t seem like someone who can harm a fly."
You turned around to see the warlord Dracule Mihawk standing before you. You stood up straight to seemed less intimidated.
“I can hurt a fly. Don’t think I’m good at harming anyone else,” you tell him as you crossed your arms.
“I see.”
“I know who you are so what do you want?” You asked.
“I was sent to kill you but in all honesty, I don’t think I can kill you. You’re too beautiful to be killed,” he tells you.
“Who sent you to kill me?” You asked, now worried. You’ve stayed in the island since you were born. Not only that, you stayed even when Luffy left.
“Not to worry now. I don't have any intentions to kill you," he tells you.
"Then what are you still doing here?"
"I'm curious to see why someone would send me to go after you."
"Feel free to stay. Just to tell you, it's going to be quite boring," you tell him.
Mihawk stayed around the next day to watch over you. He didn't understand why Vice Admiral Garp would want a warlord like him to kill a sweet little thing like yourself. You did nothing of the sort that would be considered dangerous or even pirate bounty level dangerous.
"Ow!" You yelled as you accidently burnt yourself with the pan.
"What happened? What's wrong?" Mihawk asked you as he rushed inside your home.
"Just burned myself," you tell him.
Mihawk quickly grabbed your bucket of water before gently putting your finger in the cool liquid.
"Thanks," you tell him.
"Of course."
"I made extras if you'd like. I got used to cooking for two," you tell him.
"Was it for you and your past lover?" Mihawk asked you.
"Not really surprisingly. I used to take care of a little boy who used to live with me who had a bottomless stomach. He wanted to become a pirate so he set sail a year ago," you tell him.
"I see."
"So, dinner?"
"Why not."
Mihawk stayed for a couple more weeks before he needed to back out to sea. You stood on the deck as you watched Mihawk get ready to leave.
"So I guess this is farewell?" You asked him.
"For now. I will be back in a month at most," he tells you.
"To finish me off and claim your berry?" You asked.
"No. To come see you again," Mihawk said before sailing off. You shook your head at him before walking back to your home.
You assumed Mihawk was lying or joking when he said he was coming back to see you. But to your surprise, you opened your door to see him standing before you.
"Brought you some new seeds for you to grow in your garden," Mihawk tells you.
"I'm guessing you're staying for dinner?" You asked with a small smile.
"If you'd have me," Mihawk said. You nodded before letting him inside your house.
-
As much as you didn't want to admit, you fell for Mihawk. Even though part of you hoped for Shanks to come back, you appreciated the fact that no matter how long Mihawk was gone for or even if he was wounded badly, he came back to you. Even though Shanks would come back to you, he hasn't for years.
"Will you be mine?" Mihawk asked you one night. After a midnight stroll, you both headed back to your home. Mihawk stopped you from walking inside by holding your hand.
"What?" You asked in shock.
"Be mine. I've fallen for you Y/n. And I swear to you, I would never let anything happen to you," Mihawk tells you.
"Alright. I'll be yours," you tell him. Mihawk gave you a small smile before pulling you towards him.
"May I kiss you?" Mihawk asked you.
"Yes."
Mihawk cupped your cheek with his hand before leaning in to kiss you.
-
Shanks rushed over to your home after being away for so many years. He was excited to tell you his adventures and was looking forward to seeing you once again. He knocked on your door, his heart pounding in excitement.
Instead of seeing you, he saw someone else open the door. His smile faltered as he stared at the stranger in front of him.
"May I help you?" The stranger asked him.
"My apologies. I was hoping to find Y/n L/n? The woman who lived here?" Shanks asked.
"Oh. I'm sorry. She's been gone for quite sometime. She left the village I want to say two years ago? Her and her husband moved to another island."
"Her husband?"
"Yes. I'm surprised she married a warlord but he had been kind to the village whenever he was here," the stranger pointed out.
"Do you happened to know her husband's name?"
"I believe it was Dracule Mihawk."
Shanks made it to Mihawk's castle where he knew you would be at. After demanding to see you, Mihawk came out to talk to him.
"You should know my wife is resting," Mihawk tells him.
"You took her from me," Shanks angrily tell him.
"I didn't take her from anyone. When I met her, she was alone," Mihawk informs him.
"She never told you about me?" Shanks asked.
"No she has. I just never told her that I knew you."
"Please. Let me see her!" Shanks asked.
"Let me see if she's well enough to move," Mihawk said.
"Is she sick?" Shanks asked.
"Not entirely."
Shanks waited anxiously for you to come down. His eyes widen when he saw Mihawk helping you down. Your stomach was large but he knew that it was because you were pregnant. And what's worse was that it wasn't Shanks's child you were carrying. It was Mihawk's child.
"Shanks?" You asked in shock.
"Hi, Y/n."
-
You sat in the garden with Shanks alone so you two could talk. Shanks stared at you, admiring your beauty once more. While you thought you were alone, Shanks knew that Mihawk was watching nearby.
“Are you happy my love?” Shanks asked you as he held your hand.
“I am. Hawk Eye makes me happy,” you tell him with a small smile.
“I’m happy that you’re happy.”
“I did wait for you Shanks. I really did. But I feared that if I waited any longer, I’d be too old for you,” you tell him with a frown.
“You could never be too old for me. You could have white hair and many wrinkles and I’d still think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” Shanks tells you. You smiled at him before tearing up.
“I loved you Shanks. And I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you longer."
“Don’t apologize my love. I’m sorry I didn’t come back to you sooner,” Shanks said. You nodded before taking off your makeshift necklace that held the ring Shanks gave to you. You handed it over to Shanks before kissing his cheek.
“I hope life treats you well and I hope you find a woman who will love you endlessly as much as I did,” you tell him.
“And if Hawk Eyes dares to lay a hand on you, come find me. I’ll protect you.”
“I know you will."
"So this is goodbye then huh?" Shanks asked you.
"If you find Luffy, tell him I miss him and love him dearly. And that, he's more than welcome to visit me or find me whenever he wants," you tell him. After all, Luffy was yours and Shanks's unofficial son and you two were his unofficial parents.
"Goodbye, Shanks,” you tell him before giving him a kiss on the cheek once more.
“Goodbye, my love.”
You sat on the couch in your lounge room waiting for your son to arrive with his new fiancée. Twenty five years had gone by and you had lived your life. Dracule sat next to you as you both waited for your son to come home. Now that your husband has retired from being a pirate, he had spent his time with you while your children explored the world.
“I wonder what she’ll be like,” you tell your husband.
“I trust his judgement. After all, I chose well didn’t I?” Dracule joked.
“You most certainly did,” you smiled.
“Mom! Dad! I’m home!” You heard your son say.
“Over here!” You called from where you were.
You smiled at your son the moment he walked in but your eyes widen from the sight of the woman next to him. Not only did she have the exact same hair as Shanks, but she also had the same eyes as him. It was no doubt that she was Shanks's daughter.
“Mother. Father. This is my fiancée, May,” your son said proudly. You smiled at the woman before getting up from your chair to greet her.
“It’s nice to meet you, May,” you tell her.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Mrs. Mihawk.”
“Please call me Y/n,” you tell her as you shook her hand. You noticed her necklace with a ring on it. It looked exactly like the one Shanks gave to you from years before.
“I like your necklace,” you say.
“Oh thank you. My father gave it to me. Said it was his prize possession,” she tells you. You felt your heart break a little from what she said.
“Will we be able to meet your parents soon?” You asked.
“Unfortunately no. My mother passed away from childbirth and my father passed away not too long ago,” she tells you. You frown from hearing that.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s alright. I’m really glad to have met your son,” May tells you. You smiled at her before giving her a hug.
“Well, I know my son will treat you well. And if he doesn’t, you tell me,” you tell her. May smiled at you before looking at your son.
At the end of the night, you stood outside on your balcony as you stared up at the stars.
Maybe this was the universe telling you that in another life, you and Shanks end up together. But you did wish he didn’t have to be gone so soon. You wished that he would’ve came back to you sooner and maybe you two could've had the future you two wanted together.
2K notes · View notes
flowersandbigteeth · 9 months ago
Text
Your Naga Lord saves your Mother
A/N: I've had this oneshot sitting in my drafts in a while, combining some old asks
Naga Lord (Leander) x F Maid reader
Word Count: 6K
General Plot: You and your family are staff in the house of a Naga Lord. Things go sideways when your childhood friend's father falls for you mother.
W: Description of murder, yandere behavior, spitting, otherwise sfw soft yandere fluff
More SFW fics here
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“Hurry up now,” your mother said brightly as she ladled a bit of porridge into a bowl for you to eat. “Master Dervin will be cross if you're late with his breakfast.” 
Though the two of you were mere servants in the Naga Lord’s home, she always fed you first before you had to do your duties for the morning. 
She glanced up as you scarfed down your breakfast, her eyes warming as they met your father’s. 
“Good morning, my favorite ladies,” he said, kissing her and ruffling your hair. 
“Papa! I have to work!” You pouted, but he just snickered, stealing your spoon and taking a bite of your porridge. 
“Don't bother making yourself neat for that snake bastard,” he chuckled as his hands slid around your mother’s waist. 
“Charles, please. Someone might hear, and we'll be out on the street!” 
He shrugged. As you finished your meal, your mother arranged the morning dishes for the Naga family on a silver cart, taking a moment to smooth and repin your hair before you were to serve them. 
Your father was sure to spit in Dervin’s bowl when your mother looked away, making your eyebrows jump. He put a finger over his lips, winking at you. 
“I'm off to the stable,” he said, grabbing an apple as he went. “Have a nice day, my pretty girls!” 
You blinked at the contaminated bowl, wondering if you should throw it out. 
“What are you staring at?” Your mother chided, pushing the cart towards the door. “Get along; I can hear them coming down the stairs.” 
You hurriedly fixed a pleasant but distant look on your lips as you wheeled the cart into the dining room. 
“Good morning, Mr. Leander,” you said to Dervin's only son, as he was the first to enter the dining room.” 
“You’re radiant this morning as always (Y/N),” he beamed, taking his spot at the table. “but stop calling me ‘mister’ you never used to.” 
Your ears heated as you placed his breakfast in front of him. 
“It's not appropriate, sir. We were children then. You're to be the master of the house and will be married soon. I'm sure your fiancee wouldn’t appreciate-” 
He cut off your words with a sharp hand. 
“Don't speak of unpleasant things,” he grumbled. 
“Apologies, sir.” 
“Stop calling me-” 
The arrival of his mother cut off his own words. She was a lovely Naga, sharing Leander’s white hair and sapphire blue eyes. Like his, her tail was a shocking electric blue.
“Stop prattling with that servant, Leander,” she snapped. “She has work to do. You're bothering her.” 
Mrs. Elanore was not a pleasant woman, but she didn't like you servants to be harassed by the males of the house. Whether it was actual concern or jealousy, you didn't know, but your mother, especially, appreciated it. 
Dervin, her husband, took every opportunity to corner her, trying to ply her with gifts and sweet words. Your mother was having none of it, which is why you delivered their meals, not her, and why your father spit in his food. 
You nodded, thanking Elanore as you served her the tea she liked. 
“Where is that imbecile?” she muttered, referring to her husband. “There are so few things I ask of him, but he can't manage the simplest tasks. He is to arrive on time for every meal. There must be some decorum in this household! 
Her sharp blue eyes flicked to you. 
“Go get him (Y/N).” 
Leander slid in front of you like a vibrant  blue flash before you could even respond. 
“I'll go, mother. (Y/N) has her work, as you said.” 
She gave him a tight nod, and you took the opportunity to finish setting the table for their return. 
“I should fire your family,” Elanore mused. “your father would be happier, don't you think?” 
You glanced up for a moment to find her eyes traveling over your form. 
“You and your mother are too pretty to be maids,” she snorted. “You'll only cause trouble wherever you go.” 
“Our family has served yours for generations,” you muttered, scared she might put you all on the street. “My grandparents died here, and so did theirs.” 
 “Just like a human,” she hissed, baring her teeth. “Servile and obedient. You’d think you’d have found something else to do in all those years.” 
“Apologies, ma’am,” you said, looking at your shoes. 
She waved a dismissive hand at you, sipping her tea. 
“It’s in your nature. There’s nothing to be done. You and your mother are good at your jobs at least.” 
Your cheeks warmed at the backhanded compliment. It was different when Dervin or Leander complimented you. She acknowledged the skill that had been passed through generations, not how you looked. You and your mother knew how to run a house. Your masters needed structure to maintain their dignity. With little to do, they would become depressed slobs if you didn’t keep everything running efficiently.  At least, that’s what your grandmother told you. 
Slithering through the wide doorway, Dervin and Leander settled into their spots at the table, and you took your place in the corner, waiting in case one of them needed something. The two male Nagas looked very similar in their features, handsome with a strong jaw and wide shoulders, but Dervin’s hair was jet black, as were his eyes. They always appeared blank and cold, which frightened you. Elanore wasn’t warm, but her gaze reflected an expressive nature, not a monstrous stillness. 
Your eyes watched him take a bite of his breakfast, trying to hide the disgust that roiled in your stomach. 
“Where’s your mother?” he snapped after a few big bites. 
You didn’t speak at first, your eyes drifting to Elanore for permission. She answered for you. 
“She’s in the kitchen where she ought to be. The servants are my business as the Lady of the house. Don’t bother yourself with their whereabouts.” 
“I pay them,” he barked, but she ignored him, turning her attention to Leander. 
“You’re to visit Iris today, Leander. I’ve purchased a gift for you to bring your fiancee.” 
She snapped her fingers at you, and you hurried to her side to take the small package and walk it around the table to her son. 
“I don’t wish to bring her any gifts,” he snorted, not even taking the gift from your hand. “She’s not my fiancee.” 
Elanore rubbed her temples. 
“The two of you are infuriating, you know that? You have one job, Leander. You have to marry well and produce an heir.” 
She waved a finger at you. 
“You can keep your little maid as a comfort doll if you like, but you will do as I have arranged.” 
“I’m a grown man, mother. I don’t have to do anything.” 
Electricity crackled between their eyes as they engaged in a silent power struggle. You stood awkwardly to the side, still holding the gift. 
“I’m sick of this! I do my very best to advise you two idiots on the proper way to conduct yourselves, and you act like spoiled children!” 
Her tail snapped faster than you could see and struck Leander across the cheek with a crack. Blood dribbled down his pale skin, and his eyes hung on her, the warm blue turning to ice. 
“I should have never married a common husband like you,” she snarled, turning her ire toward Dervin. Vulgarity and Mediocrity are in your blood, and you’ve infected your son!” 
Dervin’s black eyes flashed. 
“My mediocre blood saved your foolish noble family from destitution. Thanks to my benevolence, you are able to live in the house your family has owned for generations. If not for me, you’d be begging on the streets, pleading with your relatives to take you in as a servant.” 
“Fools,” she snarled, picking up her tea and slithering out of the room. 
“Bring your mother to me,” Dervin demanded when she was out of earshot.
You let out a trembling breath as you thought up a lie. 
“She went into town this morning for groceries, sir,” you said, knowing he’d never lower himself to search for her in the kitchen. 
You screamed as the bowl he was eating from sailed across the room, shattering beside your head. 
“Father!” Leander shouted. 
Dervin gave him an amused but cool smirk before turning his attention to you.
“Send her to my room when she returns,” he barked and stormed out. 
You leaned against the wall, panting as you mentally checked yourself for harm. Leander’s warm hands cupped your cheeks, looking you over. 
“Did he hurt you?” he asked. 
Your gazes met, but words wouldn’t come, so you shook your head. 
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, his warm arms wrapping around you and pressing you to his chest. 
You inhaled the spicy scent of the soap he used mixed with his own natural fragrance. 
“I won’t let any harm come to you.” 
When he pulled away, you found yourself looking at your feet, trying to avoid his gaze. 
“Oh, I’m sorry. I dropped the gift,” you muttered, picking up the broken box. 
You plucked the pretty hairpin from the shards of ceramic, seeing it was still whole. 
“I’ll find a new box,” you said, trying to slide around him. 
He stopped you with a hand on your shoulder, curling the other around your fingers. 
“Keep it,” he said. “I’m not marrying Iris. My mother has no say in the matter, despite how she likes to posture.” 
Your gaze shifted to the red slash bisecting his cheek. 
“Let’s get this cleaned for you, sir. It will be a problem if it gets infected.” 
He frowned but followed you to the kitchen. 
“Is everything alright?” your mother asked as you pulled the first aid kit off a shelf. 
“Good morning, zhingha,” Leander said, greeting your mother with a kiss on the cheek.
The word meant “mother” in the Naga’s old language. He had never considered his biological mother his; when he was a boy, he got quite attached to yours. He spent most of his time in the kitchen with you, playing and avoiding Elanore’s tantrums when you were children. The two of you had made the pantry your fort, and you’d put on little shadow plays while you lay on the floor together. 
Your mother’s eyes focused on his wound, and she clucked. 
“Poor thing, come bend down where I can reach you. You’ve grown into such a tall man,” she said, taking the kit from you and pulling out the correct supplies. 
You hopped on the counter, swinging your feet as you watched her disinfect and bandage the cut. 
“What mother in their right mind would do such a thing to their son,” she muttered as she worked. 
She already knew who’d done it because she treated Leander’s wounds often. When she was done, she patted him on the head like when he was a little boy. 
“That’s better.” 
“We should go into town today,” he said. “My father is looking for you.” 
She frowned, a flash of fear streaking across her face. 
“Don’t worry. I’m supposed to be visiting Iris. We can take the carriage, and you can visit with your friends instead. Go have Charles ready it.” 
She nodded, giving him a wan smile before she hurried to find your father. You hopped off the counter and headed to do your chores while your mother was safely out of the house. 
Before you could make it out the door, Leander’s thick, electric blue tail coiled around you. 
“Ah, ah, you’re coming too, saiya,” he cooed, dragging you into his arms. 
Your heart thumped at the silly nickname he’d given you as a child. The word meant “little bear. " When he was young, he was fascinated with your round ears compared to his, which pointed at the end. As they had so often back then, his finger traced the arch of one as he hummed his pleasure. 
“Sir, you shouldn’t,” you whispered, but Leander was too pleased with you in his arms. 
He dipped his head, nibbling at your ear. 
“I should eat you up, sweet little thing,” he whispered, making your body explode in butterflies. 
He carried you out the back door to the stable, where your father was busy arranging the horses to pull the carriage. When he saw you tucked behind Leander’s large biceps, he frowned. 
“Put my daughter down. She’s not your doll,” he said, his tone more curt than he probably should have been with a family member of the house he served.  
Out of only politeness, you were sure, he set you down. Your mother let out a light, silvery giggle, patting your father on the shoulder. 
“Oh, don’t be so strict, Charles,” she said. “He doesn’t mean any harm by it.” 
As Leander tugged you by the hand into the carriage, you heard your Dad lower his voice, so he thought the Naga couldn’t hear. 
“I don’t like those snakes touching her. They are far too familiar. Miss Elanore’s grandfather would never have allowed him to fondle her the way he does. Things were the way they should be when he was around.”
Beside you, Leander snorted, rolling his eyes. 
“He also drove the family to bankruptcy,” he muttered under his breath. 
“Listen,” your father went on as he helped your mother onto the seat next to him, and still unaware you could hear him quite clearly. “I’ve been talking with the Willards about (Y/N).” 
“The Willards?” she asked. “The tailors?” 
“Yes, they have a boy about (Y/N)’s age. Apparently, he has taken an interest in her, and his father approves. He thinks a girl raised as a maid will make a dutiful wife. I think we ought to consider it. We can visit while we’re in town today.” 
You remembered the Willard's son Joshua from when you were sent on errands to pick up clothes for Elanore. He was a handsome young man, though a little on the skinny side. He seemed nice enough. Still, your cheeks burned, and you folded your hands tightly, hearing your parents plot your marriage. 
“I don’t know, dear,” your mother hummed. “Do you really think it’s a good idea?” 
He let out a grunt. 
“I’d do just about anything to get our girl away from that snake. He’s only going to ruin her, string her along, and throw her away when he’s bored. They’re all the same. The Willard’s can give her a good life.” 
You felt Leander stiffen beside you. As the carriage took off, his tail wrapped around you so tight you whimpered. He glanced down, his face darkening to a cool blue. 
“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, loosening his muscles but not letting you go. 
He gently unwrapped the hairpin, clutched in your palm, and busied himself fastening it to your hair. 
“So pretty,” he murmured, greedy eyes eating you up. “I won’t let anyone else touch you (Y/N).” 
You weren’t sure if that was supposed to be comforting. You’d always liked Leander. He was very handsome, and as children, you’d been inseparable. However, you also realized the massive gap between your two worlds. You were just a maid, and he was the only son of a wealthy lord. It wasn’t meant to be. Your father had explained to you many times before that Leander only doted on you because he was immature and unwilling to grow up. He thought he could still play make-believe with your life, and he warned you to be wary of him. 
Feeling raw and confused, you tried to keep your eyes out the window, focused on the passing countryside as you made your way toward town. When your father stopped to park the carriage, he nodded to your mother as you climbed out. 
She held out a hand to you. 
“Darling, I need you to come with me. We’re going to stop at the tailor’s,” she said, carefully avoiding Leander’s gaze. 
He, however, would not be tricked. 
“How convenient. I need to stop there as well,” he said with a grin, tugging you back towards him with his tail. “(Y/N), keep me company as we walk so I don’t get bored.” 
Your father gave him a deep grimace but was silent as he finished tying up the horses and escorted your mother by the arm down the busy avenue, walking a few steps ahead of you. You watched the two of them whisper to one another as you made your way to the Willard’s shop. 
“Greetings!” Marshall Willard said with a grin when he saw you and your parents enter the shop. 
His eyes jumped to the large Naga next you, and he winced just slightly before calling his son.
“Joshua! Come greet our guests. I’ll help the customer.” 
Joshua appeared from the back, giving you a pleasant smile. 
“Mr. and Mrs. (Y/LN). It’s wonderful to see you,” he said politely. “Can I offer you some tea?” 
Meanwhile, his father greeted Leander. 
“Young Lord Szake! What can I help you with this morning?” 
You moved to follow your parents to the kitchen with Joshua, but Leander pulled you back by the shoulders. 
“I’m here to buy (Y/N) some dresses,” he said, pushing you gently in front of him. 
Everyone in the room looked at you, and your cheeks burned. 
“What? Why, my lord?” you stammered. 
He tipped his head at you.
“If you’re to be my personal attendant, you can’t follow me around in threadbare wool dresses. You ought to represent the Szake family well.” 
“Personal attendant?” you parroted, confused. “But I’m just a maid.” 
“Not anymore,” he declared. “Every Lord has a personal attendant to handle the paperwork and their calendar…those sorts of things.” 
“But isn’t that normally a man?” Mr. Willard asked. 
Leander beamed at him, a cold smile full of hate. 
“(Y/N) has known me since I was just a child. She knows everything about me. I wouldn’t dare trust anyone else with my personal affairs.” 
Your father frowned. 
“Nonsense,” he barked. “(Y/N) is going to be married and have a domestic life, as she should. You’re a wealthy Lord; I’m sure you can find a qualified candidate.” 
Joshua nodded beside him. You looked up at Leander, eyes large. 
“I can’t be your personal attendant, sir,” you added. “It’s not proper. What will people think?” 
He smirked at you, his long, strong fingers pinching your chin so you had to look at him. 
“Fine…If your father insists you have a domestic life, you shall.” 
Your shoulders wilted with relief, and you let out a breath. 
“Oh, thank goo-” 
“As my wife.” 
Everyone in the room’s eyes were as wide as saucers. 
“What?!” they all said at once. 
Leander gave Mr. Willard another bitterly cold grin. 
“Measure her for dresses fitting the station of a Lord’s fiancee.” 
“Absolutely not!” your father said.
“Lord Szake will never allow of this!” Mr. Willard pointed out. 
“She’s to be my fiancee!” Joshua hissed, taking an incensed step towards Leander. “My father has already approved it!” 
Leander’s gaze shot to him, danger reflected in his irises. 
“There are not words on this plane to describe how little I care about whatever arrangement your families have worked out. (Y/N) will marry me, and you will dress her properly.” 
He sank into his coils, pushing you in front of Mr. Willard, snapping his fingers. 
“Now.” 
You saw the man’s jaw tick, but refusing Leander’s request would only be bad for his business, so he pulled out his measuring tape and approached you. Not sure what was happening, you gave him a pleading look, begging him to say something. Reading your confusion and fear, his stare shifted to one more gentle. 
“Lift your arms, please, miss,” he said quietly. 
The room was dead silent while he did as he was told. Joshua and your father glared at Leander, who seemed entirely unbothered, while your mother appeared uncertain. You watched her suck in a deep breath, straightening her shoulders before she approached the Naga, speaking in hushed tones. 
“Sir, are you sure this is wise? I’m not opposed to this match. I-I know…I can see you love her…I’m only worried for (Y/N)’s safety. Such arrangements between classes rarely work out well. Your fellow nobles will never accept her. Would you subject her to their cruelty?” 
For a moment, he seemed to be considering her words, eyes sliding to you. 
“My family has never been accepted into our peers good graces. You know my father was a common merchant. My mother married him out of desperation. She traded her noble title for his fortune. People’s opinions are only that. Opinions. (Y/N) and I will face the same prejudices together. Do you wish your daughter to continue her life as a maid or-?” 
He gave Joshua a dirty look. 
“Or become a servant to a husband who can never love her as I can?” 
Your mother sighed. She lifted her hand and smoothed a bit of hair that had come out of place as if he were her own son. 
“Please…for me, be serious about this if it is what you intend to do.” 
He tipped his cheek into her palm. 
“I will never betray your daughter zhingha.” 
Your father let out a strangled noise, marching out the front door, slamming it behind him. 
Joshua, who had been pacing in place, stomped over to you, grabbing you by the arm to face him. 
“Is this what you really want (Y/N)? A snake for a husband?” 
Before you could answer, Leander’s tail shot out, jerking him away from you and tossing him into the wall. 
“Don’t touch her!” 
The young man climbed to his feet, clutching his ribs. 
“You nobles can’t just take whatever you like! (Y/N) belongs with us!” 
Leander slid across the room like an elegant blue river, lifting Joshua up by his throat. 
“Do not address my fiancee by her first name again. If I see your eyes on her, I will gouge them out!” 
Joshua’s furious face told you he didn’t plan to back down. His father dropped the measuring tape, hurrying to rescue his son. 
“Of course, he wont’ My Lord,” he said. “You’ve made your intentions quite clear. Yes, Joshua?” 
He gave Leander another long look before he gave in. 
“As you say, My Lord.” 
Leander dropped him, returning to his seat near you, and jerked his head at the tailor. 
“Continue,” he snarled. 
“Go to the back and help your mother,” Mr. Willard said to his son.
Joshua gave you a last lingering glance before he disappeared. 
You arrived back at the mansion in a very different dress than when you'd left. Leander had insisted on buying you and your mother matching readymade dresses from the shop window while you waited for the fourteen others he ordered to be made. The soft peach satin fabric was the nicest thing you’d ever worn. 
The first thing you heard as you walked in the black door was the smashing of ceramic. 
“Stay here,” Leander said. 
Your eyes quickly flicked to your mother, who grabbed your hand and pulled you into the pantry, peeking out through a crack in the door. 
���Father?” Leander called, opening the door to the dining room. 
He ducked as a vase flew past, smashing to pieces on the stove.
“That bitch!” You heard him screaming. 
He shoved past his son, dark eyes jerking around the room. 
“Father! Calm down! What's happened?” 
“Where is the human woman?” he snarled. 
You and your mother slipped back into the shadows, trying to be as silent as mice. 
“Father! She’s not back from shopping yet. Please, tell me what’s happened.” 
His eyes narrowed, but seemed satisfied with his answer. 
“It’s your mother,” he snarled. “She’s gone.” 
“Gone?” 
He bared his fangs at his son. 
“Don’t parrot me like a dumb animal. The damn woman left! She stole the gold in the safe and disappeared! No one’s seen her!” 
He paced on his thick tail. 
“She must have paid off the townsfolk. No one will tell me where she’s gone!” 
“Has she made off with our fortune?” 
His father glanced up at him. 
“Of course not; I keep the majority of our money in the bank. Only you and I can access it. I planned for this possibility but never expected her to do it! She only got off with our emergency fund…but it was enough to live well for a long time. When will the human woman return?” 
“I don’t know, father,” he said. “But whatever you need, I can help you with it.” 
He waved a clawed hand. 
“I don’t need anything done! I’m going to marry the woman. I should never have agreed to marry Elanore. I won’t make that mistake again. An obedient human wife will suit me better.” 
Leander let out a cold chuff. 
“She’s already married, father!” 
“Easily fixed,” he hissed with murder in his eyes. 
“You can’t be serious!” 
He tried to push past his son toward the door leading out to the stable. Leander blocked his way, his icy irises determined. 
“I can’t let you do that, Father,” he said, his tone low and even. 
Your father came marching through the door a moment later, unaware of the drama playing out. He froze where he stood, eyes immediately focused on the two Naga, staring one another down. 
The opportunity in front of him was too tempting for Dervin to resist, and his tail shot out, a victorious smile on his lips. You couldn’t stay the scream that erupted from your throat, your mother rushing past you to protect her husband. 
Dervin’s focus shifted to her, and Leander lunged at the same second. Caught off guard, he threw his father to the floor, and they quickly became a writhing ball of tails and arms. 
“You’d betray me too, son?” he gasped as he tried to overpower Leander. 
You smelled the coppery stench of blood as sharp nails scraped each other's skin. More than willing to help, your father picked up a heavy cast iron skillet, making his way around the hissing Naga, quiet on his feet. 
There was a resounding crunch as the skillet descended on Dervin’s head. He flopped to the floor, limp. Blood leaked in a pool around him, but he still dragged in a wet breath. Before anyone else could move, Leander snatched a kitchen knife from the rack, jamming it through his chest. Dervin let out his gurgling last breath and then was still. 
You and your mother clutched one another, sinking to the floor. Neither of you knew what to say or do, but your father and Leander didn’t need any prompting. 
“Help me with him,” your father said, slipping his arms under the dead Naga’s. “We’ll bury him under the pig pens.” 
Leander grunted his assent, lifting the majority of the weight as they maneuvered the body outside. 
“Come,” your mother whispered, trembling. “The blood.” 
You nodded, filling the mop bucket with water before pulling every towel from the cabinet to mop up the mess. 
“What now?” you found yourself whispering, though there was no reason to. 
She shrugged. 
“That’s for Leander to decide. He’s the Lord of this house.” 
By the time they returned, you’d scrubbed everything to a sparkle, the only blood left staining your new dresses and the towels.
“Take those off,” your father said. “We’ll burn the linens.” 
The two of you nodded, slipping the heavy dresses over your shoulders until you only wore the thick shifts underneath. Leander helped you out of your shoes and slipped the red-splattered stockings off your feet. 
Your father gave you and Leander a long look before he spoke. 
“Take your fiancee to bed,” he said. “She shouldn’t have seen all this. I trust it won’t happen again.”  
Leander returned a tight nod, and something passed between their gazes. They’d forged a silent agreement. 
It wasn’t until your mother and father left out the back door to burn the rest of the evidence that the tears came. It was a relief Dervin was gone. He would have killed your father and hurt your mother, but it was still horrific. 
“Shhh,” Leander hummed, scooping you up in his arms. 
He carried you upstairs to his bedroom, curling into a tight ring to settle you in the center. His arms wrapped around you, and he pressed your head into his chest. 
“Everything is going to be okay now,” he said softly, carding the strands of your hair with his long fingers. 
“Lei, are we all going to jail?” you sniffled, his childhood nickname falling past your lips all on its own. 
He chuckled, his eyes sparkling when they met yours. 
“No. My mother did us a favor. If anyone asks, they’re touring the countryside until they're entirely forgotten.” 
“What happens now?” you asked. 
He tipped your chin with his thumb, dipping his head to slip his lips against yours. They were so warm that you felt your jaw's tension melt away. His eyes searched yours when they parted, carrying a lightness you hadn’t seen in many years. 
“I’m going to marry you, and your parents will move out of the servant’s quarters. Your father and mother have earned their place in the Szake family. We’ll find some new staff.” 
You nodded, his hair forming a smooth curtain blocking the world. 
“Sleep now,” he hummed. “All is as it should be.” 
Despite how you wanted to keep your eyes open, they slid shut against your will. 
“Would you like lavender or rose tea, Miss (Y/N)?” your new maid asked as she opened the tea box in front of you. 
“Rose,” you said, turning your attention back to the catalog in front of you. 
You sat comfortably in the rose garden, enjoying the sunshine as you planned your wedding. It had been a month since the terrible night that Dervin died. When Leander had informed the merchants of the town that he was getting married, they’d sent piles of samples and booklets for you to look through. You’d never realized there were so many options! It was a little overwhelming. Since you’d come from humble beginnings, it felt strange spending so much money on decorations and lace, but Leander informed you it should be a grand occasion and not to spare a cent. 
“Um…Miss (Y/N)?” one of your maids said, looking slightly frightened. 
“What’s wrong, Lily?” you asked, concerned. 
“Well…there’s a Miss Iris at the door looking for you. Should I bring her?” 
Leander was out for the day, meeting with one of his importers, so you weren’t sure what she could want. 
“Of course, bring her here.” 
A minute later, an elegant Naga came slithering into the garden. Her curly violet hair was pinned in a pretty updo and she wore an elaborate pink dress, covered in ribbons. 
“Hello, Miss Iris,” you said, waving for her to take a place at the table. “Can I offer you some tea?” 
Her brow was drawn, and she looked you up and down. 
“So…you’re who he picked,” she pouted. “Over me.” 
Your ears burned, realizing you were speaking to Leander’s former fiancee. 
“There’s no competition,” you said. 
She snorted. 
“Obviously not.” 
She narrowed her eyes at you, and you expected a verbal lashing. You were a mere maid, after all. It was absurd Leander would take you as his fiancee. She sucked in a deep breath, and her expression suddenly softened. 
“How…How did you do it?” 
Your eyebrows jumped, confused. 
“Do what?” 
She looked around, uncomfortable. 
“Can I tell you a secret?”
You took a breath as your maid politely poured her a cup of tea. 
“I suppose so…If you’d like.” 
“I’m relieved.” 
“Relieved…why?” 
She sipped her tea, thinking before she spoke. 
“Because I don’t particularly care for Leander. In fact, I don’t like him at all. He’s…very…intense. He kind of creeps me out. He only spoke of you when we were out on dates; it was incredibly boring and awkward. Not to mention…the way he talked about you…He was fixated on all of your little ticks. Did you know he carries a lock of your hair around with him? And sometimes your stockings! He showed up one day elated because you’d accidentally sneezed on him and used his handkerchief to wipe your nose! He was cuddling it like a treasure!” 
Your ears heated. Where had he gotten a lock of your hair? You’d never given it to him. 
“He what?” 
Iris waved her previous statement away. 
“Anyway, I wouldn’t have liked him even if he hadn’t. He’s just…too much like a Naga male. Once they have something in their mind, they get…obsessed. 
Our parents arranged our marriage. I hate that tradition. I’d never force my child into a marriage without love. That’s how you get murdered by some enterprising mistress!” 
You blinked, unsure if you should be offended or not, but she went on.  
“Honestly, there’s…someone else who has my interest. Only…he’s not a noble Naga.” 
“Oh! That is a puzzle, isn’t it?” 
She nodded, stretching her hand across the table to touch yours. 
“That’s why I need to know how you did it! How did you win over Leander’s parents? Maybe if I can tell Joshua how to do it, I can…I don’t know…” 
You giggled. 
“Joshua…Willard?” 
Her violet irises flared. 
“You know him?” 
“Ah…yes…but not well. He seems like a very nice man.” 
Her eyes glazed over, wistful thoughts playing in her mind. 
“He’s so kind and considerate. I’ve never met anyone like him, so gentle. A few weeks ago, I went to pick up a dress, and he helped me. His hands were so soft, and his voice was so sweet. Every night since then, we’ve been meeting in secret! I know he’s the right one and he thinks so too! 
I don’t want to brute of a husband. I want a kind person who I can talk to. That’s why I have to know how to convince my parents not to marry me off to some…stranger!” 
You weren’t sure how to answer. 
“I think…You should do whatever you must to protect your beloved,” you said. “I can’t tell you exactly what to do because it will be different for you. We’re all different in different circumstances.
She looked a little disappointed. 
“What I do know, though, Iris, is that if you love one another, you will find a way You two are adults, not children. No one can make you marry someone you don’t want to. It’s only a matter of how far you are willing to go, what sacrifices you will make to have the life you want.” 
She nodded, thinking. 
“But…” you started, pausing to sip your tea, “What if your parents went on a little vacation?” 
“A vacation?” 
You shrugged. 
“Once you’re married, you’re married,” you said. “Maybe by the time they return…if they return… you’ve sorted your affairs.” 
The two of you shared a knowing look, and she brightened. 
“I like you (Y/N), you’re very clever! You’ve given me hope! Is there anything I can help you with in return? I want us to be friends!” 
You smiled, picking up one of the catalogs. 
“Yes, actually. I have no idea what is proper for a lady. Can you help me? We can plan our weddings together.” 
She beamed at you, taking the catalog. 
“Of course!” 
A few hours later, Leander came slithering through the garden. 
“Iris? What are you doing here?” he asked, his shoulders stiffening. “I thought I made it clear…” 
Iris snorted and waved him away. 
“I’m not here for you,” she said, raising her nose at him. “(Y/N) and I are planning our weddings.” 
“Your wedding?” he asked, and she grinned. 
“Yes! And now that you’re here,” she wrinkled her nose at him. “I think I’ll be off.” 
She leaned down and kissed your cheek. 
“Thank you for your advice (Y/N). I’m going to talk to Joshua,” she said before sliding past Leander without saying goodbye. 
“What was that all about?” Leander asked when she was gone. 
You shrugged. 
“True love, I guess.” 
He pulled you into his coils, peeking over your shoulder at the catalogs on the table. He ran a finger over the things you’d circled. 
“Lei, can I ask you something?” you asked. 
“Anything, love.” 
You twisted around to look at him, narrowing your eyes. 
“Did you tell Iris that you were excited I sneezed on you?” 
“Ah…noooo,” he lied, his whole face darkening to a deep blue. “Wh-Why would she say something silly like that?” 
You giggled. 
“Of course not,” you said, patting his chest. “I must have misheard her. Can I borrow your handkerchief? It's a little warm out here.” 
He passed it to you and you daintily patted your forehead, handing it back. His eyes widened at the little scrap of fabric in his hand and he hastily stuck it in his jacket pocket. 
Leander might be a weirdo, but he was your weirdo and you wouldn't have it any other way. 
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shurisasthmaticgf · 3 months ago
Text
wait a damn minute: max verstappen x black fem! reader
summary: in the midst of the biggest worldwide IT outage you realize your name has come up at the worst time possible
author's note: i wrote this on friday when the entire thing happened, i thought i posted it but turns out it was camped out in my drafts still. this is my first max fic so i hope it's an enjoyable read! feedback and comments are always appreciated and highly encouraged, i like to know what you all think of my work!
warnings: google translated dutch
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the hungarian grand prix was only days away and you couldn't wait to surprise your boyfriend with a visit. it killed you to miss his races but you'd recently been promoted to a new position in your company which required more days in office than remote. you'd managed to balance work and personal life pretty well but when you weren't missing due to your new job, you had something else happen last minute. finally, after weeks of working long hours on end in an office, you were in the clear to start remote working more frequently.
you managed to clock out of work right on time so the minute the clock hit 6:00 pm, you were logging out and grabbing your already packed bag. one of your coworkers passed by you in the elevator, he was the only one around your age in the entire department so immediately you both clicked. he lightly bumped you with his shoulder and commented, "three side profiles and a headshot or selfie." you furrowed your brows in confusion and he clarified, "photo requests for my husband of course." the two of you burst into laughter as you teased, "was the autographed photocard not enough for you, théo? i even decorated it and put it in a holder for your desk." the young man smiled fondly thinking of the small 3x4 inch card that sat on the corner of his main monitor. he brushed one of his locs from his face and dramatically sighed, "fine i won't be pushy...i only want the selfie." you shook your head and refused with a chuckle, "i'm not asking toto wolff for a selfie, théo." your coworker let out a fake sigh of disappointment and lightly pushed you in the other direction as you parted ways to your cars. you laughed and called out, "i'll see what i can do, no promises though!" his face lit up and he blew your air kisses before calling out a goodnight.
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
just thinking about seeing your boyfriend racing again brought butterflies to your stomach. although he was doing well this season a few problems had cost him a few wins here and there. fans had jokingly mentioned that you not being at races was the cause of the missed first place wins because coincidentally, every race you've ever attended, max has won exactly that. for weeks fans have asked about your whereabouts and you'd practically ghosted them simply because you were working so much. you were known as one of the more down to earth f1 WAGs who had no problem interacting with fans in person and over social media. so you suddenly not showing up for max and not interacting with people online made them wonder what was going on with you during the past few weeks. now that work had chilled out, you were happy to be back online again, and even happier to be able to make it out to hungary this weekend.
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the moment you stepped into your apartment you made a beeline for your bedroom to change out of your professional clothes. you snatched a pair of scissors, a spray bottle, conditioner, a towel, a comb, and a crumpled up paper bag and cozied up on the couch with shrek queued on the tv. you sprayed your head with the warm water in the bottle and spread a glob of conditioner all over the roots of your hair. you pulled one of your braids forward and snipped the end before unraveling it and picking out whatever knots formed in the 6 weeks your hair had been tucked away. thankfully this time it didn’t take too long to get your braids out, only 3 hours compared to the usual 5 when you didn’t have your boyfriend’s help.
right as the last strands of synthetic hair slipped out of your own curls, your phone rang the familiar tune and a picture of your boyfriend flashed on your screen. a warm smile spread across your face as his camera turned on to show face. you braided you hair on each side to get it out of your face as you spoke, “hi my love how was your day?” he rolled over to his side and grumbled sleepily, “long, usual press day so you know how that goes.” you frowned slightly, “i wish i was there with you today.” max hummed and admitted, “i do as well. but your work is more important so i can deal with this.” you watched as his eyes lingered on your face and you giggled while moving out of the frame shyly, “stop looking at me like that.” although it was dimly lit in hotel room you could see the light pink tint to his cheeks as he smiled, “i can’t admire my lovely girlfriend?” he yawned mid sentence and you insisted, “as much as i love talking to you i know you’re tired and you need to go to sleep. so i’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?” he sleepily agreed and murmured, “welterusten mijn liefste.” you blew him a kiss and whispered softly, "goodnight baby." [goodnight, my love]
instead of heading straight to sleep you chose to wash your hair rather than waiting until the morning to do so. the flight you managed to snag last minute to hungary was set for tomorrow evening and you hadn't packed anything. not wanting to get onto a plane with a damp head of coils, you decided to just deal with it tonight. the entire process didn't take as long since you were speeding through just so you could sleep. by the time you were done it was around 2 AM and you were more than happy with the results. a dozen thick twists hung past your shoulders until you wrapped them up into a scarf and covered them with your bonnet to head to bed.
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
when you woke up in the morning you noticed your phone had over 50 missed calls, messages, and emails. your mind conjured up the worst possible thoughts as you called your boyfriend to see what was the matter. max answered on the first few rings and you anxiously stammered, "baby? maxie? what's going on are you okay? where are you?" on the other line max answered clearly confused on what you were talking about, "schat? i am fine, i'm heading to the track. nothing is wrong here, what are you talking about?" you started to calm down realizing that he was fine but you responded, "i thought- didn't you blow up my phone early this morning? i was worried something happened and-" your boyfriend interjected with a calm tone, "y/n, i promise you nothing is the matter-"
an incoming call from théo, your coworker cut max off and you spoke up, "i'm sorry i think it's work related because théo is calling me." max let out an annoyed sound and you laughed, "i don't get why you don't like him." max scoffed, "he is too touchy and handsy with you." there was a playful groan, "oh god here you go- max, we've been over this. théo is a 27 year old gay man from san francisco who's convinced he's princess diana's reincarnate. he's the least of your worries okay?" max conceded, "okay fine i guess...but i still have my eye on him." another call from théo interrupted your conversation and you added, "but he's blowing up my phone so i need to see what's wrong. i'll talk to you later okay?" max agreed and bid you goodbye before hanging up the phone.
meanwhile you answered théo's call and he was literally running through what looked like the parking garage of his high rise. he panted, "you- you nee-...oh god i'm out of shape- you need to get up right now.. i'll be there to pick you up in fifteen minutes so be ready downstairs." you looked around confused and your coworker/ friend explained, "there's some massive outage or something happening. i know we had off today but they're calling the entire office in to see if we can figure it out." you were already climbing out of bed and you pressed for more information, "what do you mean an outage?" théo shrugged and wiped sweat from his brow as he tried to make himself look less winded, "i dunno i was thinking a breach or something? whatever it is we'll find out but we gotta go right now babes." you hurriedly grabbed an outfit from your closet and started to get dressed and ready to go, keeping him on the line.
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
when you finally managed to get to his car, théo pointed to your phone and told you, "check twitter too, the fans are making jokes that you did something to the platform." despite having no idea what the hell he was talking about you opened twitter to see the flood of tweets under your name on the trending topics list. a pit formed in your stomach and you nearly fainted when you realized what he was talking about. you were completely new to this job and panic coursed through your veins on the thought of losing everything you worked hard for. the look of panic drew a laugh from your best friend and coworker as he jested, "they're funny aren't they?!" you shook your head and nearly shouted, "no it's not i'm gonna get fired!" théo waved off your concern, "girl the issue is definitely not from you and nobody thinks so. besides, dante from marketing and eleni from HR were sending the funny ones to our group chat...not that this isn't serious but just to make light of a shitty situation you know?" you shifted in your seat unsure how to feel and he promised, "i guarantee it's fine."
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when you actually got to work with théo you were pulled into a meeting where you all were briefed about the situation. they clarified that they knew it was an issue with an update that was sent out early in the morning. after the meeting your boss told you that he knew you weren't supposed to be working today but you did need to stay and potentially over the weekend as well to help your team mitigate the issue as much as you all could. despite it being a global issue and not directly an issue from the monaco office, you knew that he meant he needed you there to help deploy the solution when it came through. he let you have a fifteen minute break to rearrange your travel plans and make the cancellations you needed before having you start work.
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‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
the work day ended later than usual, the later hours were spent at your home office while you were on meetings with other people on your team. luckily you were able to catch up with the results of max's first and second practice sessions through peeking at live updates while you worked. when you got the okay to clock out, you nearly fell asleep on your desk but waking back up when your boyfriend's ringtone jump scared you.
you kept your head on the desk as you opened the video call, "hey you." max's features softened when he noticed the look of exhaustion on your face, "it was that bad huh?" you gave a silent thumbs up and sighed, "i wish it didn't happen...i was so excited to come surprise you and finally be there to see you again. i'm sorry i can't make it work." max rushed to your defense, "er zijn nog genoeg andere races over in het seizoen, je kunt in plaats daarvan naar die races komen kijken." you let out an annoyed groan, "i know but i wanted to be there this time. now you'll have bad luck." max chuckled at the mention of the running joke of you being his lucky charm, "it's alright. don't worry your pretty little head about me. now come on let's go to sleep, i know you're tired." you shuffled your feet against your bedroom floor as you took your phone with you to get ready for the night. [there are plenty of other races left in the season, you can come and watch those races instead.]
as you lay in bed with your lights off max asked, "did you see they asked me about you today?" you hummed a soft, "nuh uh." he smiled at the memory and explained, "i was in an interview and they mentioned that your name was trending on twitter and asked if i saw it. i only saw that your name was trending but i didn't see what for so they told me fans made jokes that you crashed the mercedes, mclaren, and williams servers so that i could win this weekend." a sleepy smile crossed your lips and you asked, "what'd you say?" he turned over in his bed and answered, "i told them it wasn't you because you don't make mistakes in your work. you're too good at what you do. also that you aren't the one that sends out the updates so people don't need to use your name in a bad light." you grinned wider already knowing what he was going to say, "and how did that go over?" max let out an sigh and small chuckle, "the guys have been making fun of me all night for it." you let out the loudest laugh max has heard from you in weeks making him somewhat more fine with getting teased by his friends.
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your laughter subsided and you told him, "tell me about something interesting." max thought for a moment then started rambling on about the geologic history of the netherlands, watching as your eyes started to droop with the passing minutes. falling asleep with your boyfriend still on the phone became a habit especially in the early days of you dating. but now you were spending more time with him that occurrences like this just started happening once more, leaving you missing his presence at night. as for now, this was the best you could get.
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
the end.
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