#I was blanking yesterday so this is a little late

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | seven

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: things get a little messy after returning home. a confrontation sparks the beginning of a new stage in your relationship with joel. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, angst, miscommunication trope, self-doubt, alcohol consumption/hangover, joel is 50 and he texts like it, les mis spoilers???, phantom of the opera spoilers???, jealous!joel, food/eating, hurt/comfort, professor DAD, professor COWBOY, soft emotional smut, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, oral [f!receiving], joel says dadgum cause i think it's so classic him and so cute. word count: 11.1k jesus series masterlist | main masterlist chapter moodboard a/n: merry christmas to all that celebrate. as always, thank you for your patience and kindness. the love for this series is nothing short of mind blowing, and i appreciate you all endlessly. i hope you enjoy this angst and potentially the most flowery + emotional ALP smut yet [if that's even possible]. also rachel i love you i'm sorry. without further ado, the beginning of our descent into The End Times x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part seven of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five, six.

Tuesday.

It's nine thirty in the morning and you buy a Coke anyways.

It’s raining heavy outside; fat droplets of water that splatter against the windscreen of your car and dribble down, slipping through the crevice at the top of the bonnet, searching for the engine, for the oil gasket, for somewhere undercover to dry out.

You tuck your legs beneath yourself, sit criss-cross in the driver’s seat, and take small sips of fizzing black sugar. Allow it to moisten your lips, coat your tongue and your teeth in that sickening, viscous way soda always does, before it slips down your throat.

There’s something unearthly about the day, unnerving—it’s Tuesday morning and you’re hungover. A dull ache behind your left eye, a kink in your neck. You check your phone.

Thick, rolling clouds loom across the sky. Occasionally, a flash of lightning, a thrum of thunder. You tear open a packet of peanuts and pluck one out, and then another. Eat until your lips are dry and puckered, and then take another drink. More peanuts then. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet.

It’s all you can stomach as your liver pumps and spasms, still working to cleanse your blood of the night before, spent sprawled on the couch with Trin and Nora.

Wearing sweaters and thick socks, gripping full glasses of wine, and watching Les Misérables. Nora, tears on her cheeks, had sung along with Hugh Jackman—'This innocent who bears my face, who goes to judgement in my place, who am I?’—and you, bleary-eyed and tipsy, had discreetly checked your phone.

You didn’t cry during I Dreamed A Dream but you’re crying for this? Trin rolled her eyes.

He sacrifices his freedom to save that man, Nora whimpered.

You woke up starving and the traffic was slow. At every red light and stop sign your fingers itched against the wheel, desperate to press inside your bag and pull out this little packet. And now, safe in the campus parking lot, you feast. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet. You feel a fleeting moment of pity for people with peanut allergies, and then you check your phone.

Still nothing.

Since you left New York on Monday morning there’s been no sign of life from Joel. No get home safe, no see you on Tuesday; no acknowledgement at all.

You stare dejectedly at the messages you’ve sent him.

First from yesterday afternoon:

Home now. Enjoy your last day in the big apple x

And then from late last night, two bottles of wine deep:

It’s raining and miserable here

Wish I was still in new york

With you

Sitting in your car now, glowering at the blank space where his response should be, you reconcile with the thought that perhaps he wants what happened in New York to stay in New York. Stolen glances and all-too-brief touches in a conference hall, his hand on your wrist at the museum, skin against skin in his hotel room, and in yours—perhaps it was supposed to happen there, not here. The lowering of walls came with a change in location, and maybe that was his intention. But those thoughts don’t ease the sharp twist in your chest when you think of him. Doesn’t take away how much you wish he would give you something – a morsel of communication, even a single word of acknowledgement. For as hard as you try to understand, you can’t forget the look in his eyes when he touched you at the cloisters, the way he breathed your name into your mouth. Sewing the seed of JoelJoelJoel into in the soft folds of your brain, impossible to forget.

You don’t think about his dinner with Rachel. Don’t consider that something may have happened that night, something that changed his mind about you. Something that made him rethink the entire weekend as you slipped into the shower and out the door, leaving him alone in your hotel bed while you headed to the airport.

No. You don’t think about that at all.

When you make it inside, clothes wet and cool from the rain, you shake your hair out like a dog. Let droplets fly across the hall as you make your way into the lecture theatre; a drizzled trail left in your wake.

The room is full when you step inside, but there’s no sign of him yet. You collapse into an empty chair in the front row and wait. The final few students filter in through the door, shaking out umbrellas and wiping their feet. And for another ten minutes you, foolishly, still expect Joel to show up.

It’s only when the door creaks open and an old man walks through, that you let the hopeful feeling rest.

He lays a worn old satchel against the desk and turns to smile at the room.

“Hello,” the stranger smiles, and his jowls quiver as he speaks. “I’m Jerry Dorfman, a Professor from the literature department, and…”

You zone out for a second, eyes darting down to your phone screen. Nothing.

“Oh, and Professor Miller,” Dorfman says, as if he’s just remembered that he shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be standing up there, in his spot. “Is tied up with a family matter. I trust he’ll be back with us later in the week.”

A family matter?

Slick with rain, staring at this stranger stood in Joel’s place, you feel like a kind of newborn. Some fresh lamb, soaked in the blood and amniotic fluids of her mother’s womb, staring through unseeing eyes, hoping to glean some understanding of this moment. This sudden burst of light, this shocking cold after so many weeks of warmth, of sweat and strong hands on your skin, holding you close. But this is Eros; the blacksmith, the limb-loosener, the crusher. A deviation from stoking the flame to the suddenly desperate, grasping loneliness of feeling as though you are standing by a lover’s window, staring helplessly through the glass, and watching them from the outside. Alone.

Dorfman tries and fails to connect his laptop to the projector.

Numb fingers type;

Are you okay? Where are you?

But no response comes.

No, not until later that night, not until you’re tucked beneath the covers of your bed, showered and sleepy, does he finally reach out.

The clock has just ticked past midnight when your phone vibrates.

Hey, I had to stay in the city another day. Just landed at PWM. See you on Thursday.

A hot, jagged feeling swims in your gut as you read the message, and then reread it. Twice, three more times, searching for some hint of familiarity. Some indication that he has been thinking about you as much as you’ve been thinking about him. That the past weekend meant something to him, like it meant to you.

Minutes pass, and when you don’t find what you’re looking for, you fall asleep without responding.

Thursday.

Nora wakes up with a stuffy nose.

This always happens to me, she sniffs. I hate being sick.

The tiles in the kitchen are cold beneath your bare toes and rain smears heavily against the windowpane. You can hear fat blooms of thunder bellowing outside. Nora’s sullen, husky voice paired with the steam rising from your mug are all it takes to convince you to stay home with her.

The two of you spend the day curled on the sofa beneath blankets. You stare at your laptop, a document open on your screen with the title of an essay sitting pretty at the top. The cursor blinks and blinks at you, taunting you, daring you to write something, anything. But Sex and The City is playing on the tv, and Nora is snoring at the other end of the sofa, and you can’t help but watch the minutes tick by on the clock. Listen to Carrie and Miranda argue about Big, and wonder if Joel has even noticed your absence.

Trin gets home from class, and you follow her into the kitchen. Peel and slice oranges and apples and lemons while she tells you about her day. Boil them in sugar with cinnamon and star anise while she complains about an argument she had with her boyfriend. Add red wine and brandy while she tells you that her Dad sent her some money, and she’ll order take out for the three of you.

So together you huddle in the lounge and eat hot Indian food with your hands. Soak pieces of naan in tarka dal and saag paneer and top if off with mulled wine, unphased by the clashing of flavours in your mouths.

And you don’t check your phone, or look at the time, and you don’t complain when Nora asks, with glassy-eyes and spinach in her teeth, if she can put on another musical.

He’s a freak, Trin frowns at the TV.  

He loves her, Nora implores, staring doe-eyed at a masked Gerard Butler.

Nor, Trin scoffs, he put a wedding dress on a mannequin that looks just like her. In his fucking lair, no less. That’s freak behaviour.

He has amazing sideburns though, Nora grins. So he gets a pass.

Your phone vibrates as Erik strokes a passed-out Christine’s face, singing help me make the music of the night.

Careful that Nora won’t notice, you pull it from beneath your thigh.

Where were you today?

You stare at the words for a moment and feel your lips curl into an disbelieving sneer.

“Oh, fuck off,” you mutter, and shove your phone into the crevice between the sofa cushions.

Wednesday.

A week goes by with no word from Joel.

No word from you either.

You stay home every day. Write and read and catch up on work and take Benadryl and sip soup and then you wake one morning, relieved to find that Nora’s cold has finally left your system.

So you tug on jeans, a sweater, and share a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Share quiet conversation with Pete in his shitty old Beamer as he gives you a ride to campus, and walk into Rachel’s lecture with zero expectation that today will be the day you finally see Joel again.

“We understand that Antigone is a victim of her father’s sins,” Rachel explains. “In the wake of patricide, of incest, every one of her actions is seen as a direct consequence.”

“Even her fate to be buried alive was sewn by her father’s unwitting actions,” she pauses, eyes searching the faces across the room, gauging reactions. “And, of course, this concept isn’t unique to Greek mythology. We see it plainly in the Bible, in Exodus; the sins of your father are to be laid upon the children… these themes of ancestral curses, of the inevitability of fate – they are integral to understand when looking at our tragic heroines. We saw it with Medea, we see it with Antigone, with Iphigenia, with Electra. Electra herself said, we are bound to acquiesce—”

An interrupting knock sounds against the door. Rachel’s head swivels around, eyebrows knitted in frustration as she calls for whoever it is to come in.

The door creaks open and her expression lifts. A saccharine smile spreads across her face, shoulders loosening.

“Joel,” she says warmly. “What can I do for you?”

A shiver wracks down your spine, toes curling in your sneakers.

The broad mass of him rests in the doorway. His head peeks past the wood, just a glimpse of his curls, his glasses, visible from where you sit. Your heart thunders in your chest, palms going damp at the prospect of this being the moment you finally see him again.

He speaks a few words in her direction, too quiet to catch, and then he’s taking a step into the room. His hand grips the edge of the door, keeping it open, and he casts a glance out towards the audience. Dark brown and searching, those eyes filter through countless faces until they finally land on yours.

And for a second, he doesn’t say a word. Just gazes out at you, eyebrows pulled together in the middle of his forehead, and then—and then he fucking looks back at Rachel. Your stomach goes hollow when you see the smile on her face. She lazes against the corner of her desk, and it feels like minutes go by as the two of you stare at him. And there’s something about waiting, you think, that feels like torture. That slow, painful build-up of pressure as you sit and stare and prepare yourself to discover who he’s here for. You or her.  

You’re reminded painfully of a Graham Greene quote. A passage from The End of the Affair – one you’d, perhaps foolishly, found romantic when you read it that first time. Chosen words that had warmed your chest and made you feel light, lighter than air; the way only words could do sometimes.

‘Yes, Henry?’ and then ‘You?’ She had always called me ‘you’. ‘Is that you?’ on the telephone, ‘Can you? Will you? Do you?’ so that I imagined, like a fool, for a few minutes at a time, there was only one ‘you’ in the world and that was me.

Now, as you stare at Joel in the mouth of the doorway and memory of that passage sinks its hooks in, you feel only contempt for Greene.

For you had always read that passage imagining yourself as Sarah. And someone else, some misfortunate Maurice Bendrix, had fallen into your lap, and he was the ‘you’. But not you, never you. And it’s that pride which deceives. That pride which lulls us into false senses of security.

Joel says your name then.

Says, “Can I speak with you?” You, you, you.

And it should feel like relief, to hear your name on his lips again. But you catch the way he spares another glance, soft and sympathetic, in Rachel’s direction, and that sickly hurt isn’t abated.

Her face falls, but she smiles at you. Nods her permission for you to leave the room, and only when you’re halfway across the lecture theatre, bag swung over your shoulder, does she continue speaking to the class.

Palm flat against the door, he holds it open for you, making you press against him as you slip out of the room. It clicks shut behind you and he begins to move down the hall, leaving you to follow behind with no explanation. You assume that he’s going to lead you to his office, or anywhere more private than this, but a metre from the door Joel pauses abruptly, turns, and you slam into his chest with a huff.

“Jesus,” you mutter, stumbling a few steps back.

“Where have you been?” he glowers, brows drawn tight and angry over his eyes.

“What?”

“I’ve been busy,” you grit, glaring back. “Where have you been?”

“Busy?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ve been busy too. Busy teachin’ the classes that you don’t even show up for.”

“I’ve been sick,” you roll your eyes, unable—or perhaps just unwilling—to stray from nastiness, from spite. “My apologies, Professor.” 

“Don’t—” Joel snaps, and flinches as quickly as the word comes out of his mouth, surprised by how harsh it sounds in the air between the two of you. He takes a step closer, voice low now—“Don’t call me that.”

“Fuck, what is your problem?” you huff, eyes widening, exasperated. “I missed two classes, it’s not a big deal.”

“And the silence?” Joel takes a step forward as he says it. Close enough now to see the smudges on the lens of his glasses. Close enough to see the muscle in his jaw twitch. Too close for public; too close for here. “Can’t even text me back, huh? What the hell is goin’ on with you?”

Your body pulls taut at that, hands balling into fists at your sides.

“Oh, you don’t like silence?” you hiss, matching his volume. “You can’t be serious. Joel, I didn’t hear from you for days after New York. Why would I waste my breath when it’s obvious you don’t want to fucking hear from me?”

“It was barely two days,” he shakes his head, shakes off the insinuation, shakes off whatever blame you’re trying to put on him.

“Two days,” you nod, smirking angrily. “Two days after we spent an entire weekend together. Two days after we kissed and fucked and practically went on a date.”

And the word date must elicit something in him. Some minute, man-brain trigger that snaps him to attention and helps him understand the hurt on your face, the tremble in your hands. Because he says your name, voice softening, posture loosening, every bit of his body language screaming out that he wants to step forward and touch you.

And he’s speaking again, voice low, but there’s people coming down the hall, heading your way. Two figures that you can’t make out through the haze of Joel in your immediate vision. So when he reaches out and touches your hand you flinch, jutting your chin over his shoulder. A warning. Don’t do this here.

One of them calls your name and you pause, mouth open. Drag your eyes away from Joel’s features to watch the figures get closer.

“Pete,” you force a smile. “Hey.”

You realise quickly how it must look; your sullen expression, Joel staring down at you with his shoulders hunched. He must understand at the same moment, because he takes a quick step away, folds his hands behind his back.

“Hey,” Pete takes a step closer. He glances warily between you and Joel, confusion colouring his face. “Everything cool?”

Stony faced, Joel looks between the two of you, posture stiffening the longer he stares at Pete. So much larger than him, taller and broader and far more intimidating. But a man with a secret to keep isn’t one to jump quickly at confrontation, so he keeps his mouth shut. Let’s you do the talking.

Ian catches your eye over Pete’s shoulder and offers a sleazy sort of smile. You swallow down a glare and hold Pete’s gaze.

“Everything’s fine,” you lie, taking a step towards them. A step away from Joel. “What’s up, what are you guys doing in this building?”

Pete’s eyebrows pull together, and he cocks his head at you. “Said you needed a ride home today. This morning, remember?”

“This morning,” you repeat, nodding slowly. You raise your hand and pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking quickly, mind a mess. “I, uh… right, look, Pete, I actually forgot I have a meeting with Professor Miller about my final essay this afternoon.”

“Your final…” Pete trails off, frowning. “Isn’t that due in like a month?”

“Yeah,” you say vaguely, and do not look at Joel. “I’ll find a way home later, okay?”

“I mean, sure. I guess,” Pete agrees reluctantly, reaching up to grip the strap of his satchel. “Call me if you need me okay?”

And Joel’s face turns to stone at the insinuation in those words. The idea that Pete could give you anything he couldn’t. That anyone would need to swoop in and save you from him.

The pair of you stand in silence for a moment, eyes trained on Pete and Ian’s retreating backs as they head down the hall. You watch and watch until they turn the corner, disappearing from sight, and only then do you exhale a breath of relief.

You contemplate leaving him there. Turning your back on him and returning to Rachel’s lecture, ignoring his texts and letting this all fade into some painful memory. But when you look at him again—at those big brown eyes that gaze back at you—you know you couldn’t if you tried.  

“You look tired,” he frowns, and it’s not angry anymore. A little sad, maybe.

“I am,” you admit, and wonder if your face betrays how much of a role he plays in that exhaustion.

“Are you hungry?”

You stare for a moment, blinking slow, and then say, “Yeah.”

Joel nods, attempts a crooked smile, and says, “Let me take you to get something to eat.”

It’s silent in Joel’s car, aside from the soft patter of rain against his windows and the dull squeak of his windscreen wipers sliding it away. The truck glides through the winding streets of Biddeford, cruising down the main road and into the left lane of a fast-food drive thru. Orders you a burger, fries, nothing for himself, passing the bag into your lap and then continuing to drive.

The bun is soft beneath your fingers. Grease soaks your skin, and you taste beef, taste onions so soft, so sweet. A crimson dot of ketchup spattered onto your pants; a bright shock of mustard on your tongue. A fry here and there. Joel’s hand, outstretched fingers, sneaking across the centre console to steal one. You shift the paper bag on your lap, tilt the opening so it faces him, easier to access, but he doesn’t take another.

He grips the wheel and asks, “Do you want me to take you home?”

You think about Pete waiting for you at the house. Think about if Ian and that filthy smirk on his face and whether or not he’ll be there too. Think about having to flesh out your excuse, your lie, and finally say, “No.”

Joel keeps driving. You eat until your pants feel tight and the greasy brown bag is crumpled in your fist and he’s pulling his truck off the road and into a short driveway.  

“Full?”

“Very.”

“Good.”

“Is this your house?”

“This is it.” He drags the keys out of the ignition and knocks the door open. It’s not long, barely a second, before he’s pulling yours open with a rough yank and a soft, “Door always sticks on this side.”

A vague sound spills from the back of your throat, and he guides you up a path towards the small home. Single storey, with a large brown door and windows decorating the outward façade. Your immediate thought is that it’s very Joel, but you stop the idea in its tracks. Remind yourself that maybe it isn’t your place to think things like that.

Inside it’s even more silent, even more tense. The two of you stand in the entry way, toeing off damp shoes. Your eyes flit around his front room, but it’s difficult to focus on anything. Too much to look at, too much you want to know, and you find it easier to just look at him.  

“Realised you’d never been here,” Joel murmurs after a while. He shifts awkwardly on his feet, decidedly unsure of what to say as he rests beneath the weight of your stare. “This is the, uh, the livin’ room. Kitchen’s over there.”

When you don’t respond, he clears his throat, ticks his head towards the hallway. “Bathroom is down the hall. Bedroom too.”

You feel your face shift. Deadpan stare turns to surprise, to incredulity, to blatant anger.

“Oh, the bedroom, huh?” you smile, sardonic, cutting. Your throat feels tight. “S’that seriously why you brought me here? Ice me out and then come crawling back when you want something to fuck again?”

“Woah, hey,” his eyebrows shoot up, hands drifting forward like he’s trying to calm a startled animal.

“Don’t,” you hold up a shaking hand, eyes wide and wet suddenly. “Just… don’t touch me right now, okay? What are we doing here, Joel? Seriously.”   

He says your name hard and fast, surprised by how quickly it’s all unravelling, spilling from you in a tidal wave.

And spill it does. The words are wet and watery, a tsunami of pent up emotions pouring from your mouth without permission, without forethought.

“I mean, we haven’t seen each other since New York. And I… I thought being there changed things between us. But maybe I was wrong… and then you pull me out of a lecture, bring me here and say my bedroom is down the hall? Am I just… do you just like having someone to fuck whenever you want? Is that it? Someone at your beck and call?”

Joel repeats your name, sharper this name. “Don’t put fuckin’ words in my mouth.” His face pinches in anger, hands dropping.

“When it’s not convenient you try to shake me off, but when it is—at a bar, or out of town—” you list them off on your fingers, eyes growing wider and wider. “Oh, you want me then?”

“That ain’t fuckin’ true and you know it—”

“Do I?” you scoff.

“I came that night when you texted,” he implores, voice raising, all wild-eyed and pleading. “You were drunk, and textin’ and you needed a ride.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that—”

“You didn’t ask me not too either,” he crosses his arms across his chest. “You wanted me to come. Don’t fuckin’ deny that now.”

You open your mouth but he’s too quick, matching your spill with his own now.

“And as if you’re any better?” he bares his teeth now, voice low. “As if you didn’t find out I was your teacher and keep fuckin’ me just for the thrill of it. As if you actually wanted me, and you weren’t just gettin’ off on chasin’ some forbidden fantasy.”

“I…” you gape at him, unafraid to let the hurt show on your face. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“What the fuck am I supposed to think?” he hisses, exhaustion evident in the way he runs a hand through his curls and sags against the door. “You tellin’ me I should believe that you just want me for what I am? A fifty-year-old teacher who spends his time giving fuckin’ speeches to people that are hardly listenin’? Who goes home to an empty bed? That’s what you want?”

And it deflates you, a little. The wounded expression on his face – the devastating truth in those words, splashed across his expression so plainly for you to see. Disbelief.

“Is that such a crime?” you ask quietly. “To want you… and have it be that simple?”

“You shouldn’t,” he shakes his head. Grimaces. “You shouldn’t want me, I’m—I’m no good for you.”

You swallow. Feel tears hot and sharp behind your eyes.

“Then why do you keep letting me?”

“Jesus,” he exhales, and his hand is on the hem of your shirt, pulling you closer, closer, until you’re pressed against his chest, hands coming up to grip his shoulders and steady yourself. “Because I can’t fuckin’ quit you, alright?”

“Because I don’t just want you when it’s convenient,” his lips curl around the word, disgusted by the insinuation. “Because I think about you all the god damn time and if I can only have you some of the time then I guess I’ll take it. Because if you want some fucked up fantasy, then I’ll play my part if it means I get you, I don’t care—”

You cut him off, lips firm and searing against his. He goes still for a moment, mouth parting with a surprised exhale, warm when you press inside with your tongue. And then warmer, salty; tears on his cheeks, on yours.

“That’s not what this is,” you whimper into his mouth, desperate for him to believe it. “It was never about that, it was about you, Joel. I want you.”

He kisses you again, slow. All of the anger and hurt and frustration pools out of the both of you, spilling from your mouths and into the air. His lips mould over yours and his hands are warm on your waist, your back, holding you tight against his chest. When you sniffle, he pulls back, forehead heavy against yours, and sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, eyes closed. “I missed you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for—"

“Where were you?” you interrupt. “What happened in New York?”

He hesitates for a moment, nervous and calculating as he stares you down.

You wilt a little; dejected all over again. Recoil from him and quietly ask, “Why won’t you let me know you?” 

Joel’s hand hovers in the air, as if contemplating reaching for you again, but then it drops and he says, “I was with my daughter.”  

You blink.

Daughter.

Daughter?

“She lives there now,” Joel sounds a little breathless, cheeks pink as the words spill from him. “In New York, with her girlfriend. I’d planned to spend an extra day there with her, and then Nina—Nina cut her hand open at the studio and we had to go to the ER, and she had to get stitches and—” He pauses, waiting for you to jump in, to interrupt, to say anything. When you don’t, he takes a breath and continues. “And I wasn’t gonna stay any longer but Ellie was worried, and she needed me. She needed me there, and—and I’m never fuckin’ there, because she never needs me anymore. So I stayed, and I’m sorry I went silent but I was… I was takin’ care of my kid.” 

You think it might be the longest—and the fastest—you’ve ever heard him speak outside of a lecture hall.

His eyes drift to something over your shoulder and his entire body seems to sag a little. But it isn’t sad. It’s a resigned, sort of relaxed thing that happens – the corners of his mouth tilt up and he smiles weakly.

You turn, follow his eyeline until you see them.

Pictures, so many pictures, lining the walls of his home. Ones you’d paid no attention to when you first stepped inside, but can now see clearly. Bright eyes and wide toothy grins.

Some of Joel younger, leaner, smiling beside a little girl with curly hair. Some of him as you know him now; scruffy and greying, beside a different girl. This one lanky and pale and grimacing toward the camera as if she were forced into being placed in front of it.

There’s one picture of the girls beside each other, teenagers maybe, sat on either end of a seesaw. The curly-haired girl is on the upper end, grinning madly at the lens, while the other sits with her feet planted firmly on the ground, laughing up at her. Two of them. Two daughters?

“Please say somethin’.”

There’s a picture of Joel and he’s holding a tiny little bundle in his arms, and he looks so young and so fucking afraid. Dark eyes wide and teary as he gazes down at chubby cheeks, his index fingers crooked around the edge of her swaddle. A warm feeling swells in your chest and your body softens the longer you look at it. He’s a father.

Joel says your name and when you turn his face is all twisted up, and he looks the smallest you’ve ever seen him. Almost curled in on himself.

“I should’ve told you,” he nods, brown eyes darting across your face in an attempt to decipher your silence. “I know that, and I—”

“I’m an asshole,” you interrupt softly, and the tears never left but now they feel heavier on your waterline. Begging to spill over again.

“Hey,” he frowns, hand coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb swipes at the soft skin beneath your eye, begging the wetness there to disappear. “Hey, hey, no—”

“I didn’t think…” you trail off, sniffling. A sickly cocktail of embarrassment and guilt and shame swirl in the pit of your stomach and you try to swallow it down, try to send it away, but it’s persistent. “I never stopped to think that something had actually happened, that you had… I feel selfish, Joel, I’m sorr—”

“You’re not,” he hushes, fingers curling into the hair behind your ear. “You didn’t know. I should’ve told you before, and I’m sorry.”

“I thought you were staying away because of me,” you offer a watery smile. “I thought maybe you and…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. Can’t make your lips form the name Rachel.

“No,” he shakes his head, jaw tight, as if reading your mind.

“Is she okay?”

“Ellie?”

“Ellie,” you roll the name around in your mouth. His daughter.  “Yeah.”

“She’s okay,” he smiles, nodding. “They’re both fine.”

“And…” You look back at the pictures. Two. “And the other girl?”

“Sarah,” Joel says softly, pointing at wild curls and brown eyes that look just like his. And he must see the questions swirling in your brain because he speaks again. “I was twenty. My, uh, my girlfriend at the time didn’t know what to do. Didn’t wanna be a Mom, but didn’t agree with abortion, and we were so young and… well, I asked her to marry me cause it felt like the right thing to do, but she didn’t…” he shakes his head a little, a faraway look in his eye as he remembers it. “She said no. She never wanted that… so, after Sarah was born, I told her that she didn’t have to.”

“Didn’t have to?” you repeat the words, eyebrows furrowing.

“Didn’t have to stay,” he clarifies. Your lips part, surprised. “So, she didn’t, and we ain’t seen her since Sarah was a few months old.”

“Shit,” you whisper, eyes widening as the information finally starts to sink in.

“And Ellie,” he laughs then, gazing at a picture of auburn locks and shock grey eyes. “Well, that one showed up on my door some time fifteen years later. Been in ‘n’ outta foster care for years, and just started followin’ Sarah home from school one day. We did this little dance for a while; dinners and sleepovers and me slipping money into her backpack so she could buy lunch at school. And then one day she just… begged me not to make her go back to her own house. So I didn’t.”

“Wow, I…” you blink. “You adopted her? Alone?”

“I…” Joel pauses. Wets his lips, frowning as he collects his thoughts. “Alone is… I don’t think that’s the right word for it. You see Ellie was… Sarah and me, we just knew. She was family so fast. It was the only thing that made sense, you know?”

And it does, you suppose. The image isn’t hard to conjure. Joel at the dinner table with two teenagers on either side of him. Arguing over homework, over curfews, over what movie to watch. You can see the fondness in his eyes as he talks about them – the emotion laced through his words; we just knew.

“Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” Joel says, and that line between his eyebrows is back and it’s so deep that you can’t help yourself from reaching up and smoothing it over with your thumb. He catches your hand and holds it against the centre of his chest. Lets you feel the way his heart thuds heavily beneath the skin, a sturdy rhythm against your palm.

“It’s… it’s a lot to take in,” you confess, and his hand tightens over yours. “But I’m glad you told me.”

Brown eyes search yours, gaze heavy. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay then.” 

You flex your palm against his chest. Dig your fingers into the flesh there a little.

“Can I…” he hesitates, eyes flickering down. “Do you… Can I kiss you?” You, you, you.

Your heart beats fast, and you feel his do the same, and Joel is a father, and two daughters, and I can’t fuckin’ quit you, and you’re breathing into his mouth yes, yes you can kiss me, please kiss me.

It’s warm and it’s gentle and it feels like such a kindness to kiss him now and feel less space between the two of you. Feels like a thousand apologies and explanations slipping off his tongue and you opening your arms to him, saying I understand, saying thank you for telling me.

And when you pull him closer, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, he meets you in kind, pressing your back against the wall. He shifts his hips between yours and shows you how much he’s missed you, and only when his hand drifts beneath the hem of your shirt do you pause.

He stills, warm breaths drifting across your mouth as he looks into your eyes.

“Talk to me.”

“I’m exhausted,” you admit shyly, twisting a finger through a frizzy lock of hair at the nape of his neck. You tug at it, not meeting his eye, and watch it bounce back into a curl when you let go. He nods and kisses you again, closed lips soft and not asking for anything, never asking for more than you want to give, before he takes your hand and leads you through his house for the first time.

He runs you a bath. Makes you sit on the edge while he lays out a towel and checks the temperature every few minutes. Only when he’s satisfied that the water is perfectly warm does he help peel the clothing from your body. He grips your hand and helps you step into the tub, lowering you down into sudsy water. And when you’re settled, he pulls a stool nearby and sits, keeping you company as you soak.   

“S’nice,” you tell him quietly, dragging a foamy sponge across your arms. “Thank you, Joel.”

The weight of before hangs over you a little, pressing down against your shoulders as you watch him. Gauge him. But he doesn’t seem angry or upset anymore. He leans over the lip of the tub. Runs his hands through the water, over the skin of your calf, your knee. Feels the coarse hairs that have grown there over the past fortnight and smiles when they scratch against his palm.

“Said you were sick?”

“Mhm.”

“What kind?”

“Just a cold,” you whisper. He squeezes your knee, palm against your patella, fingers soft in the flesh around it. “M’fine. Past it now.”

In the soapy water, his skin feels like silk against yours.

“Changin’ of the season,” he muses with a nod. “Normally gets me too.” 

And you laugh a little at that, because it’s such a fatherly thing to say and you can’t believe how naïve you’d been to not see it before. Can suddenly picture him doing this a thousand times over; resting by the bath while one of his little girls floats in the water, nose all stuffy from the flu.

At the sound of your laughter he smiles, gaze dropping to your mouth, and the skin beside his eyes pinches. Little wrinkles, so soft and so beautiful that you want to reach out and brush your fingers across them.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel murmurs, and his voice is hushed, so low in the small bathroom.

His fingers skirt against the inside of your thigh and you splay your legs open for him, knees knocking against the sides of the tub. He glances down through the water to where you’re spread open for him to see, shameless, and smiles.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he repeats.

“So are you, Joel.”

“Psh,” he rolls his eyes, offering a delicate little smile. So shy, so feeble, and so desperate to believe you. A little glimpse of that wary weight, still pressing down on him as well.

“Mean it,” you insist in a whisper. You lift a hand from the water, wet thumb grazing the corner of his mouth. Feel the bristles of his moustache, the hairs on his cheek, prickling against your skin.

“Swoony type,” you say, smiling when recognition flashes in his eyes. Stroke the fresh blush on his cheeks. “Long hair, bedroom eyes, cheeks like wine.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs, turning to press a kiss against your palm. “Can’t get away with plagiarisin’ Carson in this house, baby.”

“She just said it so well.”

“She did,” he agrees. “So did Tartt.”

“Tartt?” your mind wanes, the warm water lulling you into a sleepy sort of daze. You rest heavy against the side of the bath, gazing up at him

“Beauty is terror,” he quotes tenderly, eyes bold and earnest as he holds your stare. “Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.”

You wrap an arm around his shoulders, water droplets staining his shirt where your fingers grip the material, and pull him forward to kiss you. Joel grips the inside of your leg and kisses you until your skin prunes and wrinkles. And when he notices he laughs with you, gripping your hand to press his lips against fingertips that look like raisins. Worships the soaked skin of your fingers until you pull his face back to yours; jealous of your own hands, fearful that they might come to know his kiss better than your lips.

And when the water goes lukewarm and you don’t know what time it is anymore, he dries you off with a soft towel and offers once more to take you home. But you say no, so he smiles and kisses you again—your lips, your cheeks, your eyelids—and leads you to his bedroom.

He drags a too-big shirt over your head, helps you loop your arms into the sleeves. Dark blue and warm, so warm, against your skin.

The two of you slip beneath the covers on his bed and he drags you against his side; lets you press your cold toes against his shins without so much as a flinch.

Facing each other on your sides, those hands slink beneath the shirt, rough palms cradling your ribs, your back, holding you tight against his chest until your breathing falls in sync. And those hands don’t stray, don’t move down, they just embrace you. A carefully held apology that promises I want this, to hold you, to be with you, too.

It stays like that, nothing more, until your eyelids are heavy, and his breathing has evened out. Stays like that until your hand drops from his back to the band of his boxers, sleepy little fingers plucking at the material, trying to slip underneath.

“You should rest.”

But you whine softly; needy and insistent as your fingers press harder.

“What do you need?” Joel rasps into your neck, helping you shift them down his legs.

“Need you,” you whisper back into the darkness of his bedroom. “Wanna feel you, I—”

His mouth is soft against yours, plucking those words from your mouth and swallowing them down. He sucks your bottom lip between his, prying your mouth open so he can slip his tongue inside.

His hand in on your knee, pulling your leg up until your thigh rests heavy around his hip and you can feel the hot weight of him against your core, still slick and warm and needy from when his hand rested on the inside of your leg in the bath.

And if you’d ever subscribed to the meaning behind words like sin you suppose that once this might have counted as one. An act worthy of being sent to reside in that second circle of hell, reserved solely for those overcome by lust; left to blow back and forth in the storm of their own desire. Two people who cannot touch, should not touch, who hold their hands out to feel anyways. A touch once spiteful, once desolate and removed, now so forthcoming. A touch that says this is the only way it could have ever been. And there can be nothing sinful about it anymore. No more shame or derision behind heavy eyelids, no more you shouldn’t or I’m no good for you. Here you rest comfortably in the hurricane of that second circle, and you welcome the breeze as a comfort.

Lips against yours, Joel feeds his cock to you in slow, careful passes.

Ensures you feel every ridge, every hard line of his body. And with each gentle press inside he murmurs against your mouth. Incessant, low nonsenses of so fuckin’ beautiful and god I missed you and that’s it, baby, I know, I know. His kiss smooth as an almond, tender as a fig. Ripe and wet and tremulous as his tongue finds a home against yours, over and over.

The comforter on his bed stays pulled high, up to your shoulders, and it traps the warmth of your bodies between you.

He coaxes rough, gasping sounds from you with every shift of his hips.

Long fingers grip the back of your thigh, using his hold there to rock your body into his over and over again, slowly, making sure you feel every second of it. Slick seeps out of you around his length, smearing against the inside of your thighs and his, and he groans at the wet sounds that slip from where the two of you are connected.

Joel says your name, low and gravelly, praising every syllable. He tells you how good it feels, how perfect you are, and every word is like an undressing of the flesh. Like you’re some tender butcher, peeling back layers of his skin to let the air hit hot, red, pulsating matter, flashes of thick, porcelain bone swimming amongst it all. He keeps you close, hardly an inch of your body not touching his, and yet you can see all of him. The whole surface and everything underneath it now too. And when you say his name in return and he moans, begs you to say it again, say my name again, it’s hearts on wings, thin fire racing beneath the skin, eyes unseeing, drumming filling your ears. It’s the cold sweat on his hands that hold you shaking, that feel the way you tremble and grip tighter. It’s wanting to take those bones of his and suck them clean; lick past the gristle and taste the marrow beyond it.

It's everything and it’s nothing and it’s that silly little four-letter word that you can’t bring yourself to say, let alone think, and it doesn’t even matter because he’s here and that’s enough.

His nose rests in the hollow above your collarbone and he inhales, smothering soft kisses to skin and bone there.

He says, “You smell like me,” and when he looks up and presses his forehead against yours, he almost looks wounded by it. He stills, holds himself deep inside and just stares, and his eyes are screaming I can’t fuckin’ quit you, so you lay your thumb over the dimple on his cheek and smile. “S’my clothes, my soap…”

Your body flutters and tightens around him, and your mouths fall open in soft moans, lips slotting together again.

“You like that?” you breathe into the kiss, and he tightens his fist around the back of the shirt, pressing inward until your back is arched, and your stomach is flush against his and he’s groaning yes.

“Want you in my clothes all the fuckin’ time,” he pants, and the tip of his cock presses so deep inside that you’re gasping, mouth hanging wide open. “And when you give ‘em back I’ll wear ‘em and smell like you, and then we’ll be even.”

“Even?” you laugh a little, nipping at his bottom lip. He smiles, eyes glinting in the darkness.

“Yeah, even,” he repeats it and presses forward in a sharp thrust to emphasise his point. You don’t need to hear it again to know exactly what he means.

“Tell me you’re mine,” you whisper, and he grunts, hips shifting a little faster against yours. You feel him pulse inside of you, his stomach tightening against yours.

“M’yours,” Joel murmurs, voice like velvet and honey, so soft as he leans forward to kiss you, licking the words into your mouth. You say it back, spell it out against his teeth, his lips, his jaw. Yours, yours, yours. 

He says something else then, lips soft against your chin, and you’re so close; can feel it hot and burning in your gut, almost at tipping point.

“Hmm?”

“Baby,” Joel nips at your jaw, sharpening your senses. “Tell me you’re on the pill or somethin’.”

“I am,” you whimper honestly, and his body seems to sag against yours, hips shifting in sluggish, tired movements.

Something snaps at the base of your spine, and you tremble against him, gripping the back of his neck. Soon enough he’s shuddering into you, arms going tight around your back, trapping you against his chest as his cock pumps inside your core. And it’s warm and wet and sticky and his seed drools out of you, down to your asshole, smearing against the inside of your thighs, his sheets. Your legs wrap around his waist, holding him to you, keeping him there as long as you possibly can. Riding out your highs, and then the trembling, stuttering aftershocks in each other’s arms. He pants into your mouth and all either of you can say is mine or yours, until the words mix together and become a meaningless blur of sound murmured between locked lips.

It could be minutes or an entire hour before you manage to separate from each other. All eager little kisses and whines as his soft cock slips from your hold, thick spend seeping out of you in his absence. And you just want to sleep, want to curl up in his arms and never leave, but you slink off to the bathroom first. Wet your face and drop down on his toilet. Urinate and feel his come drip out of you. And where once, with someone else, you might have cringed at the feeling, you only feel warmth; calm.

In the bright lighting of his bathroom, you can see yourself reflected in the mirror above his sink. Hair a wild mess, cheeks and lips swollen with warmth. This woman in the mirror stares back at you and she has bright eyes. She smiles at you, and you feel your lips peel back, teeth on show just like hers. You stare at her and think god, she looks happy. When you wipe between your thighs and stand, she does too. And with your finger on the light switch, a wet handtowel clutched in your other palm, you give her one last look before turning out the light, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

Thursday.

Joel sleeps on his stomach. At least, that’s how he ends up overnight.

Face buried deep in a pillow, one leg slung outside of the covers, with a heavy arm out to the side. When you wake, at first, you’re careful not to move. Not to breathe too heavily, not to cough or jostle him awake. He looks so peaceful like this. Heavy breaths puffing from chapped pouty lips, forehead smooth and devoid of the stress and exhaustion that often lines his face. A large hand rests close to you. Despite you drifting a part in the night, the body heat getting too much for you both, his fingers remain outstretched in your direction. The tips just grazing the skin of your stomach as you lie on your side and watch him.

A low murmur escapes from his mouth, face twitching a little, and then he’s relaxing again, humming in his sleep. You smile, and let your eyes wander.

There’s a pile of books on his bedside table, reading glasses dropped haphazardly atop them.

An Idiot’s Guide to Space, one of the weathered spines reads. Interesting.

A framed painting rests above a set of drawers on the side of his room. A vast landscape with a herd of horses galloping across it. Gorgeous hides of orange and brown and black splashed across green grass and blue sky. And on the back of his door… hangs a cowboy hat.

You move slowly, careful not to wake him as you rise and tip toe across the room. Coming to rest directly in front of the closed door, you slip it off the hook and admire it. You don’t even hear his breathing change as he wakes up.

Dark brown with a curved brim; the felt is soft beneath your fingers. The image of Joel wearing it, perhaps often, while living in Texas flits through your mind and you can’t help but smile. And then warm hands are on your hips, arms snaking around your waist to pull you back into a warm chest.

You gasp in quiet surprise, but your smile only broadens when Joel rests his chin on your shoulder, peering down at the hat in your hands.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice gruff and deeper than usual. A pang of arousal swims in your core at the sound of it, but you ignore that, turning in his grasp.

“Good morning, cowboy.”

Joel groans, sleepy eyes drifting closed as he hugs you to his chest, swaying the two of you from side to side.

“Wanted to lie in,” he grumbles. “S’too early for this.”

“For what?” you blink in mock confusion, holding the hat against your chest.

“For you to see that.” He moves quick, tugging it from your grasp.

“Hey—” You gasp, wide eyed and ready to steal it back. But before you can Joel just lifts it onto his head with a heavy sigh. “Oh.”

“Oh?” he repeats, eyes narrowing.

Warmth simmers in your stomach and you smirk, stepping back to give him a quick once over.

“I could get used to this.”

“Jesus,” he rolls his eyes, moving to take it off but you grip his hand, shaking your head fiercely.

“Not so fast,” you coo. “I want the whole experience.”

“And what exactly is the whole experience?”

“You know—” You shimmy your hips a little. Imitate twirling a lasso in the air, wiggling your eyebrows. “Show me some tricks.”

Joel laughs at you, and you can see the desire in him to say no, to refute it, but the longer you stare him down, the more it cracks and fizzles away.  

“Go on, cowboy,” you try out your best Texan drawl, falling down to sit on the edge of his bed.  

He adjusts his legs, elbows bending as he waves two finger guns in your direction. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down a laugh as he makes a small pchew pchew noise out the side of his mouth.

“Oh,” you smirk. “Is that all you got?”

“I’ll have you know,” Joel huffs, pretending to holster one of his guns. Hip cocked now, still dressed in nothing but his sleep shirt and boxers; he stares you down. “I’m startin’ to think this town ain’t big enough for the both of us.”

And that gets you. A sharp, barking laughs slips from your mouth, and Joel grins in return, the skin beside his eyes creasing as he adjusts the Stetson over his curls.

As your giggles calm, he just shakes his head, still smiling, and murmurs fondly, “Dadgum, you got a good laugh.”

Your face warms beneath his stare, and you just shake your head, bottom lip snagged between your teeth. Moving quick, Joel pinches the brim of the hat and places it onto your head. It’s a little big, and the brim falls down, obscuring your eyesight before he adjusts it for you. Then he takes a step back, hands on hips.

“How do I look?” You bat your eyelashes up at him, smiling shyly.

“I don’t know,” he fakes an air of contemplation, giving you a long look up and down. “Think you might be all hat ‘n’ no cattle.”

“Hey,” you pout. “I’d make a great cowboy; just need a pair of chaps.”

“Well, you can wear the hat and the chaps all you like,” Joel murmurs, gaze heavy. “But you ain’t a cowboy ‘til you prove you can ride like one.”

Your thighs tense and you arch an eyebrow, trying to remain nonchalant.

“Is that right?”

“S’right.”

“Mm,” you hum. You lick your bottom lip and watch the way his gaze darkens, eyes trained on the movement. “Gonna let me show you what I got?”

And so you end up back in bed, straddling Joel while he smirks up at you, long fingers twisting around the hem of your t-shirt. But when you slip a finger inside the hem of his boxers, the movement so reminiscent of last night, he laughs a little and gives you a look that says, really?

You pout, confused. “I thought you wante—”

“Uh uh,” Joel shakes his head. “Not what I meant.”

“Then what?”

“Get up here.” He lifts his chin upward.

Your eyes widen, stomach tensing a little.

Desire warms the inside of your thighs, and you murmur, “You want that?”

“Do I wa—?” he cuts himself off, eyes darkening a shade. “I said, get up here.”

Heart racing, you shimmy up his chest until your knees are planted on the mattress on either side of his shoulders. He smiles, encouraging, and you grip the hem of his shirt, prepared to pull it over your head, but he stops you.

“No,” he exhales, hand quickly gripping yours. “Leave it on for me.” And then he leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and you can only nod, holding your breath as you wait for him to reach where you want his mouth the most.

Face tucked in the cradle of your hips, Joel sighs your name. A rough exhalation, nose pressed into your skin. And it feels a little silly at first – your face is warm as you stare down at him, the wide brim of the cowboy hat tilting forward.

But then, breath hot and heavy against you, he mouths at the crease where your hip meets your thigh. Slow, drawn-out kisses that have your legs tensing over him, his hands slip beneath the shirt, tracing light patterns into the skin over your spine, all the way up to your shoulders. He keeps going until you’re shivering, a wet trembling mess in his hands, hips twitching forward with every touch of his mouth to your skin until he finally glides his tongue through your folds.

Your breathing hitches as he pants against you, chest vibrating with low sounds as he licks thick stripes up the entire length of your pussy. Eyes closed, he tastes all of you; tongue slipping over every piece of exposed skin that the position grants him. And with every broad stroke of his tongue, he dips inside your weeping hole and finishes with a gentle flick against your clit. So soft and so slow, building you up over and over until finally you break and begin rocking your hips into his face.  

Joel grunts at first, a little surprised maybe, but in a second his hands are dropping to grip your thighs, locking you in place against his face.

At first, he guides you. Helps you find a rhythm that works, that feels good. Flattens his tongue and uses his grip to rock you back and forth over his face, groaning as you roll your clit against him, huffing and panting quiet little pleas. But soon enough your fingers are carding through his hair, holding him tight against you as you grind down into his mouth. Sharpening his tongue, he dips it inside of you and then drags upward, pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking gently.

You gasp, vision going hazy as you try to keep your eyes on him, try to watch, but it’s too good. He knows exactly what you like, and it all moves far too quickly for your liking. You can already feel your hips winding faster and harder against him, breaths falling shorter, everything in your stomach pulling tight and hot.

Joel can tell – he can always fucking tell – and one of his hands drifts over your ass, fingers slipping between your thighs from behind until his middle finger is circling your entrance.

“Fuck,” you inhale sharply, jaw going slack as he prods at your cunt, tongue lapping lazily over your clit all the while. “Please, your fingers, yeah, ohhh—”

A long finger sinks inside and you moan, head falling back.

“You like that?” he murmurs, pulling back to graze his teeth along the inside of your thigh. A second finger presses inside, and he curls them against that soft spot, fucking you slow and steady until you acquiesce, whimpering yesyesyesfucksogood towards the ceiling.

“Good girl,” he hums, slick tongue finding its way back to your clit.

He eats at you so lovingly. So generous as he lathes firm circles around your nerves, only ever pausing to suck you into his mouth again or press wet, open-mouthed kisses against the entirety of your cunt. Nose buried in the short curls over your mound, he doesn’t let up until your moans turn high pitched; strained little whimpers of his name falling from your lips as you press down harder and harder.

“Oh fuck,” you cry, hips rocking back and forth, faster now. He breathes you in, jaw shifting from side to side, matching the intensity of your movements with sharp flicks of his tongue. And when you fall apart, shoulders sagging forward, he moans, taking and taking and taking every last drop of what you have to offer.

And what an image it must be – you, wearing a Stetson, riding Joel Miller’s face. You almost wish you’d filmed it, for posterity’s sake.

He presses a small kiss to one swollen lip of your pussy, and then the other, before his head is falling back into the pillows and he’s smiling up at you.

The lower half of his face shines, lips and facial hair slick with your come, and you can’t help but grin back, a tired snort of laughter slipping from your mouth.

“How’d I do?” You grip the brim of the hat, tipping it down at him.

Joel smirks, hands squeezing your thighs, helping to shift you up and onto the side of the bed so he can sit up.

“I’d say you more than proved yourself,” he hums, leaning in to steal a kiss. You sigh, whining against his warm wet mouth, and reach a hand down to press it against his abdomen. Shifting lower, you trail your fingers over where his cock strains against his boxers, but Joel just tuts, pulling away and slipping off the bed.  

“Hey,” you huff, gripping his shirt and trying to pull him back down, but he just shakes his head, laughing, and drags you to your feet.

“Gonna be late,” he tells you, squeezing your hips and pressing a kiss to your temple. “And you needa eat.”

Late. You’d almost forgotten that you had a lecture this morning. Joel’s lecture.

He turns, rifling in the chest of drawers, pulling out clothes, a pair of socks, while you stand behind him and watch, knees still shaking, with a fucking cowboy hat on your head. After a moment he turns, stares, and a rough laugh hits the air. Shaking his head, Joel grips the brim and tosses the hat back up on its hook before pointing towards the ensuite, telling you to shower.

“You coming?” you ask, and he just shakes his head, tugging on socks before padding towards the hallway.

“Cowboys don’t shower, baby,” he flashes a smile over his shoulder at you and winks. “They just dust off.” 

When you make your way out of the shower, Joel is in the kitchen. Ironed black trousers and a neat white shirt cover his frame, and from across the room you admire him. That strong back, the pert rounded muscles of his ass. Fuck.

He manages to over scramble the eggs and burn the bacon because he can’t stop looking over his shoulder at where you rest at his dining table. Head resting heavy in your palm, you smile back at him. And when he puts a plate of food in front of you, you don’t have a single complaint.

The two of you eat fast, plucking little pieces of eggshell out as you go, smiling and laughing shyly as your feet tangle beneath the table. He watches you; makes sure you clear your plate before he takes it to the sink, murmuring something about how he won’t make you sit through me talkin’ for hours on an empty stomach. Says he’s pretty sure that counts as torture somewhere, baby.

And when he turns, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink, you’re staring at him, heart on your sleeve, and he must see it in your eyes. You know that it has to be clear as day; that forbidden four-letter word blazing across your forehead in bold letters.

Joel clocks your gaze and moves to hover over where you sit, wordlessly cupping your face in two broad palms and slotting his mouth over yours. And as he licks into your mouth, tasting the remnants of eggs and bacon and every unsaid word, you start to believe that maybe confessing wouldn’t be so bad. That maybe forbidden is a word you’ve prescribed to this feeling all on your own – that he might just be feeling the exact same way.

But he pulls back, presses two more quick pecks to your mouth and tells you to get ready, says he’ll drive the two of you to school, and the moment slips from your grasp.  

Back in his car, you feel relieved to replace the memory of yesterday with this one. Windows down, the air is cool and calm against your skin as he drives you through town, sated, dopey smiles across both of your faces.

A Bob Dylan song drifts from the speakers and Joel sings along under his breath.

“We’ll meet again someday on the avenue. Tangled up in blue.” Voice low and breathy, left hand on the wheel, right hand on your thigh. You nod along to the lyrics, your fingers tracing the veins and tendons on the back of his hand all the way until he pulls over.

“Shouldn’t be seen walkin’ in together.”

“Yeah,” you agree, understanding. “Best not.”  

The truck idles on the side of the road, somewhere inconspicuous down the street from campus, and you slip out his passenger door. Close it with a thud and peer in at him through the open window, eyes devouring every part of his face as if you won’t be seeing him within the hour, stood up in front of the room giving a lecture.

The truck peels away from the curb, Tangled Up In Blue still whining from those speakers, and Joel sends a quick wink out the window at you, his face a blur as he drives off. And you just smile, chest warm despite the cool Spring air on your face, walking along in the same direction – because you know exactly what that wink means. And you love it.

Our little secret.

a/n refs:

in Dante’s Inferno he said that those overcome with lust were doomed to the second circle of hell, wherein they would be buffeted back and forth by the terrible winds of a violent storm, without rest. slay.

the bacchae tr. by anne carson [read if you have mummy issues, a massive ego, or just like the idea of frolicking in the woods for a while...]

the secret history by donna tartt [read if you like unreliable narrators, strange professors and stranger students, and the nursery rhyme 'the farmer in the dell']

the end of the affair by graham greene [read if you like weird intense guys and angst and infidelity]

eros the bittersweet by anne carson [read if you're cool as fuck]

thank you for reading! x

#finally am i right? #my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Real Pretty

pairing: joel miller x reader

(AO3 mirror) summary: You and Joel are not in a relationship. But Joel gets jealous anyways. 

author's note: Timeline's a little hazy, au where Joel, Ellie and Y/N stay in Jackson and nothing bad happens ever. 

warnings: fluff, Joel's OOC as shit (what's new), filthy filthy smut (you have been warned), 18+ minors DNI

wc: 1.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You can't stop staring. Oh god, he's pretty. You steal a glance at him with a mouthful of food by the canteen table. He's just woken up, by the looks of it: shirt a little wrinkled and hair all over the place. With a yawn, the base of his denim shirt lifts up to expose his tan belly, right at the v-line, with a dark tuft of hair leading right down to.. 

SLAM! Ellie bangs her tray on the table and clatters into her seat. 

"You look like shit." she says with a toothy grin. 

"And you smell like shit, you little gremlin." You snap, without missing a beat. Woah. Too much, maybe. 

She just laughs, her smile a bit wider, and that glint in her eye. "Oh yeah? Well I heard that somebody had a real good night yesterday." 

You pause to give Ellie a look. A look that says she's too young and too nosy. And, most importantly: what the fuck was she talking about? 

"That guy? Paulie or Peter or what's-his-face? Heard he slept over at the clinic." 

"Huh?" you splutter, almost choking on your food. 

"Kathy's mom saw him walking out of the clinic this morning. Using the backdoor. Everyone's talking about it." she tells you like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Ellie, nothing happened. And if it did it would be none of your business."

"Uh-huuh." 

"I'm serious. Nothing. Happened. You should know better than to trust gossip. This kind of thing can be really hurtful and you're lucky I don't-" 

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Joel definitely doesn't know." 

"Joel doesn't know what?" He walks up and pulls out the chair next to you, plate of food in one hand.

"Somebody," she looks you dead in the eye. "boinked Petey last night in the clinic but doesn't want to admit it." 

That last line made you squint. Ah. Now you get it. Ellie's attempt at revenge for teasing her about a certain crush she 'doesn't want to admit'. Touché. 

"Boinked?" Joel coughs into his eggs. "Jesus, forget I asked."

~~~

Later, Joel meets you in the makeshift office of the clinic after hours. It had been surprisingly quiet considering the bustle of the previous week. So much so, that you jolt at the knock at the door. You forgot he was coming over to mend a broken cupboard. 

He comes with a toolbox and kneels by the cupboards, propping up the broken door with one hand and a screwdriver in the other. The very door you had struggled to open and close not too long ago. He had picked it up with ease, and you watched in awe as his hands took out the worn screws, dexterous and nimble. The room was so quiet, you couldn't help yourself. 

"I patched him up and worked late. He took one of the beds and was out like a light, I swear." 

"I believe you." He doesn't look up. Is he mad? Jealous, even? His face was stoic, unreadable and so you kept going. 

"I was just taking inventory. And I can handle myself, you know that or else I never would've taken the chance." 

"I know." Nothing. Again. You slump in your chair and watch him finish up in silence. 

"Sweetheart," he says, packing up. "You're thinking out loud again."

His voice is soft and it makes you melt. "Everyone thinks something happened Joel. They're gonna think I'm a slut, or something."

He pads over and kneels so he's level with you. Gently, Joel cups your cheek with one hand, and puts his hand on your thigh with the other. 

"That's because you are a slut, sweetheart."

He kneads your thighs, creeping closer and closer to your core. "You're the prettiest fuckin' slut I've ever seen." 

Your mind goes blank when Joel's like this. Voice as soft as butter whispering the filthiest shit whilst stroking your pussy. His fingers ghost over your jeans and you whimper. "I'm not a- fuck!" 

He dips his hand into your underwear. Soaking wet and he's barely touched you. He keeps it slow, drawing lazy circles around your clit whilst holding you close. 

"Don't like hearing those things about you. They don't see you -fuck - like I do. You didn't fuck him, darlin', I know that. But he wanted to. You can see it in his eyes." He's faster now, dipping a finger in and out your hole like it's his job. You hold onto his forearm to steady yourself and hump his hand. Desperately chasing your climax. 

"That's it, that's it. Good fuckin' girl. You wanna cum?" He asks and you nod your head dumbly. "Use your words, darlin'. Need'ta hear you say it."

"Yes, yes, please Joel…. wanna cum-" 

He nods and you throw your head onto his shoulder, shaking as you cum into Joel's hands. He pulls his hand out of your jeans and licks them clean with hooded eyes. He's hard, cupping himself over his trousers and rocking slightly to relieve the pressure. What a sight; Joel Miller on his knees for you, because of you. 

You grab him by the lapel of his shirt and fall into a sloppy kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. You motion to take off his shirt and start to strip yourself. When your shirt comes off he presses hot kisses into your bare skin; mumbling profanities into your collarbone and the peak of your tits. 

His pants come off and you reach to pump him; his tip red and sticky with precum. He groans and grabs your hand, lips plump and swollen from kissing you. 

"-shit, not yet," He helps you stand, and bends you over the desk, bow-legged. You're hot and sticky and desperate now, whining for him to fill you up-

-and he does, in one swift motion, without any warning or prep. "You're gonna take what I give you, ain't that right sweetheart?" 

You nod haphazardly, whining under his grip. His hips piston into you at just the right angle, so fast you're seeing stars. 

"No-one else can fuck you like I can, don't forget that. Next time, a little shit like Petey comes round, you tell him you're mine, won't you?"  You're babbling now, incoherent as pleasure builds in your gut. "All mine. All. Fuckin'. Mine." 

With that, a coil snaps, and your legs collapse under the pleasure that washes over you. Joel is quick to follow, turning you around so that when he cums on your stomach, he can see the bliss on your face. Gently, he picks you up like a blushing bride into the next room, onto one of the treatment beds. He gets a towel from the supply cupboards and cleans you up, kissing your forehead. He clambers in next to you. It's a tight fit but he manages to snake an arm around and pull you towards him. Soft breath in your ear as you both stare up at the mottled ceiling, speckled in fluorescent light. Well, he did, anyway. You turn to look at him. 

He was even prettier this close. Real pretty. 

#i neeeeeed him #look me in the eyes and tell me he's not possessive #joel miller #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #pedro pascal x reader #kat_writes😼

[greycaelum]

imagine past/young gojo and reader go into the future and meet the future gojo and reader with the kids and shi

Kaleidoscope Series—Clouds and Mochi Chapters: { Sweet Things }

—Gojo Satoru X Wife Reader

𑁍 Synopsis:

2016... The paycheck you got yesterday was dated 2010. "This is crazy..." Is this even possible? Your knees faltered, staggering back as you reread the paper. You have fallen into the wrong timeline. Did the curse have so much power to send you far to the present? How are you gonna go back?

𑁍 Genre: fluff, time-leap

𑁍 WC/CW/TW: (1.4k)—/ glimpse of teen Satoru, teen reader, the reader got sucked in a curse's domain, clingy Satoru—/

𑁍 A/N: For some reason, there seems to be a number that likes this trope (I have two more of the same request in the inbox). This is not my forte, so sorry for the very long wait dear. I'll post the next part in Satoru's POV. This will be a three-shot I guess.

"Neh, can you fight?" A 19-year-old Satoru held his breath as he asks the girl he's been wanting to talk to for years now. "I can train you," he added.

"No, but if you do that stunt again I'm gonna knee you where the sun doesn't shine." You smiled sweetly at the male, contrasting with the blank look in your eyes. 

Satoru's heart only shivered. Please, you have to stop being so adorable it's making his heart go batshit pounding.

"Yaga-san, I'm going. Please wire my payment to the usual account." You bowed at the older male chanting to let down a curtain. You move to get out before the partition touched the ground.

"Oi!" Satoru almost choked on himself watching you turn your back on him. Not so fast pretty girl. Not when he's spent years looking at you from afar. He stopped you and handed over the blue folding umbrella.

"Sorry about that, I'm Gojo Satoru, and take this. It's going to rain," Satoru smiled and reach for your hand, depositing the umbrella before you could reply, and ran back into the curtain. He bit his lips, grinning to himself so badly he feels like he wants to roll on the ground. Damn it! You're just so cute. Seconds later small droplets started to fall.

That was how you "first" met the annoying but thoughtful menace. But little did you know...

Little by little he meets you more frequently in the missions, being a window, you're the first in the scene before the managers and sorcerers arrive. And it was supposed to be a normal mission and the sorcerers were just a bit late when you got entangled in the domain, with no way out. Just when your eyes are fully engulfed in the bottomless pit, a dash of white hair rushes forward and a shout called you.

"Y/n! Wake up, hey grab on me!" A crisp profanity flew out of the rude mouth. You swam into consciousness and gasped for oxygen.

You thought you're gonna die. That wasn't the first time you put down a curtain for a special grade curse but it sure will be the closest you get to dying. The curse messes up space and time. After regaining your breath, your eyes fluttered open and met the thick foliage of trees staring back at you.

The sound of loud children nearby occupied your hearing as you swam into full consciousness. This is Jujutsu Tech's grounds, the scenery is familiar but you don't know where it will lead since Master Tengen's barrier changes every day leading to different kinds of places to keep intruders from invading the school.

You started walking until you find yourself at the door of the mountain, towards the city. You look down at your dirty clothes and sighed. Perhaps getting a shower first makes sense. You hailed a cab and gave your address.

"!?"

The three-story building you're living in is nowhere and it was replaced by a fancy-looking cafe.

Les Sucreries

"What is going on?" You remember walking up and going out of your apartment this morning. You can't be in the wrong place since the ice cream parlor you love is right in front and a few blocks is the cafe you are working on part-time. 

"Ah, Miss. If you'd like please check out this flier it's time-limited so make sure to drop your entry!" A lad skip up to you and extended a flier then ran away.

Free Bouquet for the first three visitors... Fleur-de-Lis Bouquets. Only until July 27, 2016...

2016...

The paycheck you got yesterday was dated 2010.

"This is crazy..." Is this even possible?

Your knees faltered, staggering back as you reread the paper. You have fallen into the wrong timeline. Did the curse have so much power to send you far to the present? How are you gonna go back?

If in 2016 your apartment is not there anymore... Does that mean you finally got to buy your own house? What course did you take in college? Did you finally get a decent boyfriend?

A blush rose to your face. Why of all things did you have to think of that? You should first find a way home before worrying about that. Maybe going back to Jujutsu Tech will help. You started walking in the direction of the college.

The cafe door opened and a lady in a barista's apron peeked outside. The baby she's carrying on her hip calmed down when she walked out of the cafe. 

"Did you see someone we know Kou-chan?" The lady chuckled as she tickled her baby boy with striking white hair while he tried to babble and pointed his chubby finger at the lady walking away.

"Mama..."

"Mnn? Mama's right here sweetheart." 

II

Ahhh, this is crazy. The Tokyo of 2010 and Tokyo of 2016 look so alike and not at the same time.

You walked and walked and stopped.

That striking white hair that stands out of the crowd, lanky figure, and cool minty scent. The man is walking on the other side of the road and stopped on the red lights.

"Gojo?"

Your hands immediately flew to cover your mouth. He's wearing a weird white bandage over his eyes and his hair is fluffed up by the constricting cloth. But it's him! He looks just a 'bit' more handsome and mature...

Shit! You smacked your head. This is not the time for those thoughts.

And you'd never admit it to him or else his ego will gloat and you won't hear the end of it. Sometimes you wonder if ever someone has duct taped his mouth because he's so noisy and annoying.

Anyways, you can't help but trail after Gojo. Surely he'll help you if you just approach him. Everyone says he has a bad personality but when you first met him, he may sound condescending yet he ran after you to give you an umbrella because it was going to rain. That was thoughtful of him.

He's not that so bad... You thought and sighed. He may have the answer on how you could come back home. But at the same time, you're a little curious about how he turned out 6 years later. Just a little curious. After you're satisfied you'll approach him!

Come to think of it... Is he married? He should be 24 right now... It's quite young to be married yet but knowing that he came from the Gojo Clan and on top he's the heir it's not surprising if he already has an arranged marriage partner.

What does she look like? She must have a very unique curse technique and be from a prestigious clan.

Argh! Stop thinking about that Y/n. I need to go home. You steeled your thoughts.

Mustering up your courage you ran to the nearest pedestrian line and ran after Gojo but he walks damn fast.

"Damn, those lanky legs." You panted and look around only to realize you're back to where you were before. 

Les Sucreries

That's French... The name fits Gojo very much.

What is he doing here? Overcame by curiosity, you entered the cafe and sat on the farthest table. Will he recognize you?

That was when a woman came down the stairs, wearing a plain brown apron. She didn't notice you because she was focused on the man leaning on the stairs. The man was Gojo.

And the woman... was you...?

Your jaw dropped and took another look at the woman's face. It's definitely you!

It's just that your hair is longer and your body is more mature. And there's the palpable wedding band on your left ring finger.

But that's definitely "you" standing beside the strongest sorcerer, with his hands wrapped around "your" waist as he tries to sneak a kiss.

W-What happened?

Your heart was pounding and slowly regretted entering the cafe. Not in your wildest dreams did you think this would even be a possibility. I-Is he your h-husband?

So you got married. And not just married!

You're married to Gojo.

What were you thinking?! Ahhhhh! You felt your heart like a dying fish removed from the water. This isn't real... You could feel your soul escaping from your body.

You looked up and blue eyes met you. The same arrogant smirk on his lips and he whispered something to "your" ear and kissed her temples before walking towards your direction. The future "you" went up the stairs, still uninformed that her six years younger self is here.

"You blushing Y/n-chan?" He chimed and sat on the chair across from you, flashing a devilish grin. "So... how did my lil' teen crush get here?"

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld

#kaleidoscope series #c&mchapters #married gojo fluff #gojo satoru x wife #gojo satoru x reader #jjk married gojo fluff #gojo satoru imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #gojo satoru fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo kouki #gojo x you #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #husband gojo x wife reader #teen gojo satoru #teen reader

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 3/12)

ALRIGHTY HERE WE GO !!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie and gareth don't get along and eddie thinks you look cute when you're sleeping

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, alcohol use, maybe gareth's a bitch lol, scary feelings, a sprinkle of fluff, and eddie being down bad in every way, shape, and form <3

word count: 5.3k

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| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Breakfast has been your favorite part of joining Corroded Coffin on tour. Aside from the fluffy, soft, sweet pancakes, grease-dripping bacon, and toe-curling orgasmic coffee, breakfast has always been lighthearted and fun. Richie makes everybody sit at the table together like a family so there can be some sense of normalcy throughout the busy days; it’s nice.

You alternate with your seating, wanting to get to know all of the crew members as best as you can while you have the time, and you’ve had decent conversations amongst some awkward ones. On the first day, you sat next to Mitch, the light coordinator, and listened to his story about how he met his husband. They’re expecting a baby this fall, and you two bounced a few names off each other for him to consider. On the second day, you sat beside Kaylee, the tour stylist, and talked about your college horror stories. On the third day, you sat next to Brandon, a stage manager, and spoke about… well, you don’t really remember because he talked the entire time, and you kind of blanked out. Slowly, you’ve made your way around the table each day, learning little things about the group.

Today, however, there is not the usual lighthearted and familial atmosphere at the table.

You came down to the breakfast hall a bit late from your shower, and the second you stepped into the room, you could sense the tension still hanging from yesterday. You haven’t spoken to or seen Eddie since he confronted Gareth at the studio, and you’re not sure if he’d even want to see you, but you have no choice but to take the only open seat next to him.

You quietly say good morning to everyone, and Richie is the only one who gives you a warm response. “How’d you sleep, birdie?” He questions around a mouthful of eggs. You nod and settle in, “Good, I almost slept through my alarm.” You jokingly admit. Richie chuckles, “1500 thread count sheets will do that to you.” He says, causing the table to erupt in a soft symphony of laughter.

It falls awkwardly silent, and you try your best to avoid glancing at Gareth, but there’s no doubt everybody notices the shiner he’s sporting on his eye. The room is filled with sounds of forks clanking against plates and the quiet mumble of short, faint snippets of conversation until Richie clears his throat, “We’ve got an interview with the press at twelve and rehearsals at three, like always, so do what you need to do before then. We can’t be late for this interview, got it?” He reminds the crew, and everybody’s head nods in understanding, all but one.

“I’m not going.”

All eyes turn to Gareth, a full plate sitting untouched before him as he slumps back in his seat. Beside you, Eddie lights a cigarette, and you opt to busy yourself with taking a bite of your French toast, practically feeling the anger radiating from Eddie as he takes a drag. Richie clears his throat once again, scooting closer to the table and tilting his head with a look of confusion, “Um… why not?” He questions.

Gareth glances at him as best as he can with his black eye, “Because I’ve got an eye the size of a tennis ball on my face, Richie.” Everyone at the table seems to uncomfortably shift now that the elephant in the room has been addressed. Eddie doesn’t waste a second to speak up from beside you, “Nothing you didn’t deserve.” For the first time since yesterday, Eddie looks at Gareth and sees the swollen eye he left from yesterday. Eddie doesn’t show a single hint of regret.

The table returns to quietly eating as Gareth ignores Eddie’s comment, “I’m not going.” He reiterates. Richie sighs and rubs the coarse mustache on his face, “You have to go, Gareth. Just put some shades on.” He suggests, returning to his food as if the conversation finished, but Gareth holds up. “I’m not gonna sit there in shades like a fucking idiot, man.”

“Well, you don’t have a choice, son,” Richie snaps, dropping the fork in his plate to look at Gareth. You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole, and you’re sure you’re not the only person with that wish when you look at the other crew members at the table. “This band has an album coming soon,” he reminds the group, “We don’t have time for rumors and gossip to start circulating; you need to show up as a unit. This isn’t up for debate.”

The conversation could’ve ended there because, quite frankly, it seemed like Gareth was willing to go with it, but Eddie couldn’t let the moment to say something slip, “Just let him go, Rich.” He shrugs. You glance at Eddie, watching as he taps his cigarette ash into his plate, “It’s not like he brings much to the table anyway.”

Across the table, from the corner of your eye, you see Gareth lean forward to glare at Eddie, “The fuck does that mean?” He snaps.

Eddie looks at Gareth for the second time and shrugs, “Means you’re a shit band member, man. Fuckin’ Mitch has done more for this band than you ever have or could’ve done.” He gestures towards Mitch, ignoring when the man slightly cowers in his seat. Gareth looks at Eddie with a stone-cold glare, saying nothing momentarily and letting the thick blanket of silence curl around everyone's neck. He leans forward and points a finger at Eddie, who’s not even looking at him anymore, “Fuck you. You wonder why Chrissy left you for Jason Carver, it’s because you’re a fucking asshole.”

“Jesus Christ, guys–” Jeff tries to interject, but Gareth continues speaking, “At least Jason acknowledges her. That’s more than you ever did.” He jabs. Eddie chuckles, shaking his head before speaking around a cloud of smoke, “You don’t know shit about me and Chrissy.”

Gareth tauntingly laughs, “Nah, she filled me in quite a fuckin’ bit.”

The invisible ticking time bomb seems to have gone off in Eddie’s mind. He stands up from his chair, a loud screeching noise grating everyone's ears as he flicks his cigarette into his plate, “The fuck did you just say?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Richie interjects, standing up and raising his hands as a gesture to stop. “Enough. Fucking enough,” he glances between the two heated men in annoyance, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you boys, but you need to figure your shit out on your own time.” He snaps. Your hands rest in your lap, anxiously picking at the seam of your jeans, wanting to shrink into your seat because you can’t help but feel as if this is your fault. It was your journal he read anyway; you play some part in the issue, right?

Richie sits back down with an exhaustive huff, picking up his fork to resume eating, but before he picks up a piece of his food, he gestures at the table, “Either sit down and finish your goddamn meal, or fuck off somewhere. Both of you.”

Eddie stands for a moment before deciding to leave without another word.

By the time the press interview rolls around, you’re more anxious than you thought you’d be. Between the time frame of breakfast and now, you had more than enough time to ponder over the messy situation you’ve accidentally created between Gareth and Eddie.

Truthfully, you had no idea that the Chrissy Gareth had mentioned during your conversation was Eddie’s ex-girlfriend Chrissy; hell, you didn’t even know Eddie had an ex-girlfriend named Chrissy until yesterday!

On one of your few sit-downs with Gareth, you ended up discussing his love life, and you took the leap of faith to ask him if he’d ever been in love.

“…There was one girl. Her name was Chrissy; we went to high school together.” 

“You dated?” “No,” Gareth shakes his head, “No, we never dated. But I always had this weird connection with her… like we understood each other in a deeper way.”

You smile in awe of the sweetness behind his words, jotting down little notes in your journal as he speaks. “I always admired her to an extent, but she, uh,” he clears his throat and scratches at his jaw, “she was in another relationship for most of the time I knew her.”

Gareth silently watches as you continue to write. You look up at him when you realize he’s been silent for a while, and you open your mouth to ask what is wrong, but he speaks before you, “Is this um,” he gestures towards your journal, “this bit isn’t going in the final publish, right?” He asks. You tilt your head, a few questions running through your mind, but you brush them off, “Um… well, I suppose I can leave some of it out, yes.”

Gareth nods, shifting in his chair and clearing his throat. “Okay, good. Um… well, anyways,” he begins, “Me and Chrissy didn’t hook up until I went back to Hawkins during our break off from last year's tour.” 

Ultimately, Gareth had explained that Chrissy had recently left a three-year relationship when they’d hooked up. He explained that they crossed paths at a bar, and things took off from there, but he cut it off with her the following morning. He never told you why he cut it off, but you now understand the guilt of betraying his best friend had forced him to do so.

You had no idea that the entire conversation was pertaining to Eddie’s ex; if you had known, you would’ve never written it down. You wouldn’t have even finished the conversation if Gareth had told the whole truth because, quite honestly, you would rather not be in the mix of this disaster. 

You’re disappointed. Upset that Gareth practically used you to get the guilt off his chest. And the truth is, that conversation did little to nothing for Gareth in the long run; he still felt guilty for never telling Eddie, and it’s only gotten worse with the added tension between them now that the secret is out.

Eddie was cold toward you before, but now he’s thicker than the ice in Antarctica. He’s avoiding you at all costs— and maybe he’s just avoiding everybody. Still, you can’t help but take his avoidance personally, especially when you’d thought you were finally reaching some sort of middle ground with him.

You sit off to the side of the stage with the rest of the band’s crew as you watch them take their seats for the press interview. Eddie sits on one end of the table while Gareth sits at the other end, the other two members filling the two seats in between. Gareth had no choice but to cover his black eye with a dark shade of glasses, and it seemed like nobody paid mind to it— typical rockstar wardrobe and all.

The interview was off to a good start, with reporters asking questions about the upcoming album, life on the road, and relatively anything about the music. Near the end, however, is when things seemed to get rocky. The questions became more of a filler than anything important, and boys were evidently tired of answering. It wasn’t until a journalist asked a specific question that things seemed to reach a tipping point.

“There’s been rumors that this album has more love songs than usual. Could you confirm or deny that?” 

The boys look at each other, and Gareth leans forward to respond, but Eddie beats him to it. “There were a few, yeah, but um… They didn’t make the final cut, so maybe next time.” 

The energy vividly shifts amongst the boys; Gareth looks at Eddie and scoffs before leaning back into his chair, clearly throwing in the towel for the rest of the interview. You don’t understand the apparent dispute just now, but you find out when the boys finish the interview and walk into the green room.

“What the fuck, man?” Gareth spits, walking a few paces behind Eddie. “We’re not cutting the song.” His loud voice booms through the room, not caring if anybody will overhear their dispute. 

“I’m not putting a song out that you wrote about my fucking ex-girlfriend, Gareth. Are you out of your fucking mind?” Eddie snaps. 

Richie turns to the band and crew members and motions for them to leave the room, which nobody even bothers to protest, eager to escape any more awkward conversations for the day. Everybody else makes a beeline for the tour bus, planning to fill in the few hours before rehearsal.

You glance back at the room where Eddie and Gareth are bickering, and you bravely choose to sit in the chair outside the doorway. You try not to stick your nose in their business, but they’re arguing loud enough for you to hear snippets either way. The conversation doesn’t last long before Gareth storms out of the room and down the hall, bursting through the doors and out of sight.

You glance back into the room where Eddie stands, fishing out his pack of cigarettes and sparking up. You figure now is better than ever, so you clench your bag strap and stand up, hesitantly stepping into the room. Clearing your throat once you’re a few steps away from Eddie, you watch as he exhales a cloud of smoke. He glances at you and turns away, “What do you want?”

You take one step closer, “I um… I wanted to apologize.” You begin. He looks at you again, brown eyes tired and riddled with pain— and you can’t imagine how much of a whirlwind the past twenty-four hours have been for him. “For what?” He asks, confusion and annoyance laced within his tone.

He’s turned to face you, shiny chains glistening on his hips beneath the building lights. You shake your head, struggling to find the words, because, was this really even your fault?

You obviously can’t apologize for Gareth fucking his ex-girlfriend— you had no part in that— and it’d seem silly to apologize for accidentally dropping your journal. So, what exactly do you apologize for? How do you let him know that you’re sorry this was how he found out, even if it isn’t entirely your fault?

You decide to try and redirect your wording, “I want you to know that I was never going to put that in the final article.” You say.

Eddie scoffs, taking a drag of his cigarette before responding, “And why would I believe that?” He questions. 

He’s gazing at you like the first night you’d met when he was watching you from across the green room and commanding you to leave. You think he has the same intentions now, but Eddie has yet to learn that you’re stubborn.

“Well, for starters, Gareth asked me not to put it in,” you admit. Eddie’s jaw tenses and part of you feels as if you’ve tossed Gareth under the bus, but you had no choice. This was Gareth’s doing, and if you have to tell the ugly truth to save your image, then so be it. “He didn’t tell me why, but I know now. And now that I know the full truth behind that story, I definitely won’t write it in.”

Eddie watches you momentarily, intense eyes burning holes through you before he turns away. He scratches his jaw for a moment, taking a breath before returning to you. Eddie points to you, the burning cigarette hanging between his fingers as he speaks, “You know,” he begins, “somehow, you’ve managed to persuade everyone that you’re some sweet, innocent small-town journalist that just wants to ‘appreciate the artists,’ but that,” he gestures to your bag where he knows your journal is resting, ashes fluttering to the ground with each wave of his hand.

“That proved everything I believed about you.” He says. “People like you are fucking vampires. You suck the life out of people to keep you alive, and it’s fucked up.” He snaps. 

Your face twists in anger, subtly shaking your head as you subconsciously step closer, “Eddie, I didn’t… I didn’t even know she was your ex, and if I did, I would’ve never written about it.” You exclaim, tossing your hands in exasperation. “And I’m sorry you found out the way you did, but you can’t hate me for something someone else did!”

Eddie frustratedly rubs his face, “That’s not the point!” He exclaims. “I read your journal. I saw everything I needed to see to confirm that I was right about everything with you and this fucking article.” He stresses, his loud voice echoing throughout the empty room.

“I'm not here to destroy your life, Eddie!” You snap, voice raising to match the level of his own. Eddie steps closer, towering over you and glaring so intensely into your eyes that you almost cower, “I don’t fucking believe that for a second.” He snaps back.

His chest rises and sinks like a rocky boat beneath his angry breaths, and he’s so close you can smell the cigarettes and mint on his breath. The scent of his cologne wrapping around you and choking you like a snake.

You don’t know how much more patient you can be with Eddie. You don’t know how much more of this back-and-forth you can take before it drives you insane. You want it to end. You want him to understand that you’re not his enemy; you never were.

You can only think of doing one thing: unzipping your bag and reaching in to grab your journal. Eddie watches with a hint of confusion in his eyes as you crack open the journal and start flipping through the pages. “What are you doing?” He asks in annoyance, patience running thin at your silence.

You flip through nearly half of the book before finding the pages you sought. You don’t think twice before ripping them out, not even caring if it destroys the binds of your precious journal. “The fuck are you doing?” Eddie asks again.

You tear each page out and drop the book to the floor, ignoring Eddie’s questions as you shred each torn-out page to pieces. Eddie watches in silent and hidden shock as each pen-soaked strip flutters to the ground, creating a heap of trash between where you both stand.

You tear the last piece and let it fall before looking at Eddie, watching as he gazes at the torn pages. Nearly five pages worth of writing, gone.

“There. It’s gone. Do you believe me now?” 

Eddie says nothing when he drags his gaze up to look at you, shock-ridden across his face. “I’m not who you say I am, Eddie. I’m not here to ruin your life; that was never my intention.”

Eddie stays silent, seemingly lost for words, and even if you want him to say something, your braveness has begun to falter, and you itch to leave the room. You’re strong-willed, but you’re no fucking superwoman, and Eddie has pulled every exhausting breath out of you, and you can’t seem to get a grip because every time you breathe in, all you smell and feel is Eddie.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

You grab your destroyed journal from the floor, not bothering to try and fix the binding before you shove it back into your bag, and you don’t say another word as you leave the room.

You’ve been writing for hours when you check the clock— twelve thirty-two. The band played a show tonight, but you decided to stay in your hotel to let your ankle rest— you haven’t been taking all the precautions the medic advised you to, so by the time lunch rolled around, you were in an uncomfortable fit of pain. You used your free time by tweaking the draft of your article— adding in new pieces of information and taking out unnecessary notes. You’re about twenty pages in, but by the end of the month, you’ll have compiled it all into ten; but for now, it seems your brain has become a muddled mess of words and ideas. 

You suppose drinking three glasses of wine didn’t help fix that, either. You’re tipsy, teetering on the edge of drunk, and that’s a dangerous place to be when you’re practically working. You don’t even want to think of the past drunken works you’ve made; they’re worse than you’d like to admit.

You sigh, dropping your pen onto the hotel desk, leaning back in your chair, and rubbing your hand down your face in exhaustion. You glance over to the chair you’ve propped up to rest your injured leg, deciding that you should probably ice it since you’ve neglected to do so all day.

You figure you’re done writing for the day anyway, so you put your things in order before grabbing the ice bucket and making your way out of the room to find the ice machine. 

What you don’t expect to find on your journey is a sleepy Eddie sitting in the hallway just a few doors down from yours. Maybe you drank four glasses of wine.

Out of common, drunk courtesy, you redirect your path and limp over to where he sits, arms folded across his chest and head leaned back against the wall with shut eyes.

You gently say his name to grab his attention, but he doesn’t budge. You shuffle closer, calling his name out again, and when that doesn’t work, you gently nudge him with your non-injured foot. His eyes flutter open, blinking away the light sleep from his eyes as he looks at you.

You tilt your head in question and ask, “What are you doing sleeping in the hallway?” 

Eddie shifts in his spot, grunting and glancing at the bucket in your hands. From the looks of it, Eddie is as sober as can be, so you guess he decided to skip out on the after-show festivities they usually partake in. “I um… I lost the key card to my room.” He explains, gesturing to the door across from where he’s seated.

“The band is out for the night, and the lobby’s closed, so…” 

You nod in understanding, glancing around the empty hallway, catching sight of a cleaning lady entering a room down the corridor. And technically, you don’t owe Eddie anything.

You could leave him here in the hallway to spend the night sleeping on the hard ground, and it probably wouldn’t bother him either way because Eddie clearly doesn’t like you, but fuck you feel bad.

You’re not a terrible person. You wouldn’t kick somebody when they’re already down, and Eddie… Eddie is clearly down.

Before you can thoroughly think it over, your liquor-weighted mouth speaks before you can stop yourself, “You could crash in my room for the night.”

Eddie looks at you with the blankest expression he could ever muster and blinks, “Why would I do that?”

God, he’s such a fucking asshole.

You shrug, gently swinging the bucket in your hand and glancing around again, “I don’t know, unless you'd like to sit here all night like a moron, then be my guest.”

Your ankle hurts as you stand and wait for Eddie to make up his mind, and just when you almost decide to throw in the towel and let him fend for himself, Eddie grumbles a short “Fine,” and gets up.

You watch as he reaches down to grab his leather jacket and turns to you, “You can go ahead; I have to get ice for my foot.” You tell him, pointing to your door so he knows where to go.

Eddie glances down at your injured leg and says nothing before he reaches forward and gently takes the bucket from your hands— cold, jewelry-covered fingers brushing up against your warm knuckles and sending shivers up your spine.

He hands you his jacket, and you stand silently, confused by the exchange. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he answers your question, “I’ll get the ice.” And he doesn’t even bother looking at you before turning around and leaving to find the ice machine.

You’re too drunk to figure out what that was about, and your ankle is starting to throb under the pressure of standing, so you walk back to your room clutching his jacket and trying your hardest not to let the familiar scent of Eddie knock you dead.

You leave the door slightly propped open for Eddie and place his jacket on the chair near the desk. In the meantime, you busy yourself with removing your suitcase and clothes you’d haphazardly tossed around from the extra bed where Eddie will be sleeping. You figure you’ll just head to bed once Eddie gets here, so you exchange your jeans and fitted top for shorts and a ratty old He-Man shirt from high school.

You’re setting your previous clothes aside when Eddie steps into the room, a bucket full of ice in one hand with a Coke and chips in the other. You raise an eyebrow, questioning the extra items, and he shrugs as he shuts the door with his foot, “What? The vending machine was right next to the ice, and I was hungry.” He explains as he places the bucket on the desk, making sure to avoid placing it on your work pages. He tries his best not to look at what you’ve written, and you don’t point it out when he clears his throat and diverts his attention to something else. He grabs the wine bottle and shakes it, raising an eyebrow when he realizes it’s less than halfway full, “I take it someone had a good time?”

You roll your eyes, walking over to take the bottle and put it back on the desk. “Not that it’s any of your business.” You respond, turning to grab a ziplock to fill with ice. Eddie takes the bag from you and shoos you away, “Go sit down, I’ll do it.”

Your face twists in confusion, “You’re starting to scare me. Are you gonna kill me?”

Eddie laughs and busies himself with scooping large chunks of ice and dropping them into the open ziplock. “I will if you don’t sit down.” He responds.

You relent and walk over to your bed, sitting at the head of the mattress to lean against the pillows near the headboard, doing your best to shove a pillow beneath your foot lazily. You sit silently, hands folded against your stomach, watching Eddie work.

He’s wearing his usual black jeans, decorated with hanging chains from his waist, and a plain white shirt, hidden muscles flexing beneath the soft cotton. His shoulders are broad yet hidden beneath the thick, curly mane of hair he has. Tattoos litter his arms, a few trickling down to his fingers, and you catch glimpses of his knuckles dripping with drops of water from the ice and— fuck.

There’s no way you’re checking out Eddie Munson, the asshole who’s made your life a living hell these past few weeks. You really can’t handle your liquor.

You panic and grab the TV remote, quickly turning it on to fill the silence. You distract yourself by watching the random sitcom playing until Eddie steps into your view. You must’ve been focused on the show because Eddie seems to have traveled to the restroom to get a towel to wrap around your makeshift ice pack. Your sheets are pulled back, leaving your bare legs on display, and you can’t help but squirm when Eddie stands at the foot of the bed and takes in the sight of you.

He says nothing as he gently lowers the ice onto your ankle. His inked fingers sink into the plush cotton of the towel, and if Eddie weren’t an artist, you bet he could land a job as a hand model. Or maybe you’ve really lost it.

His gaze flickers to catch your wide eyes, and you hold your breath when he speaks, “Is it too cold? Do you need another towel?” He asks. You stutter to answer him, so you shake your head no, eventually sputtering out a response of, “N-no, it’s fine. Thank you.”

Eddie turns to grab his snacks and falls into the other bed with a sigh, cracking open the bag of chips and popping a few into his mouth. You grimace and pull the sheets over your body as you comment, “If you bring ants to my room, I swear to god, Munson, I’ll hunt you down.” 

Eddie chuckles, glancing at you as you shift around and get comfortable in bed, “Not with that broken foot, you won’t.”

You glare at him over the heap of expensive duvets and pillows, “I wonder whose fault that is?” You respond, falling back into bed when you see him roll his eyes. 

Eddie clears his throat after a moment, “Speaking of that,” he begins; you peek over at him once again to watch as he puts the chips aside and grabs the remote to start flicking through channels. “Since we’re off these next four days, you should keep it light on your feet.”

You sarcastically laugh, “Don’t tell me you’re actually concerned for my well-being. This night keeps getting weirder and weirder.” You joke. Eddie pauses his task to glance at you, “No, I just…” You raise an eyebrow, urging him to continue. He rolls his eyes, “I’m not a complete asshole, you know?” He grumbles, turning back to the TV.

You’re snuggled into your sheets now as you watch Eddie flip through the channels, admiring how different features of his face light up under the different colors from the screen. He’s… pretty.

“What do you have planned for your days off?” You question behind a drawn-out yawn. You think you catch a glimpse of a smile on Eddie’s lips, but you can’t see very well in the dim lighting. “My Uncle Wayne is flying in, so… I’m spending time with him,” Eddie explains. You smile, “Your uncle?” 

Eddie nods, and you hum, “That’s nice… Can I meet him?” 

You’re never drinking wine again.

Eddie looks at you as if you’ve asked him the dumbest question on earth, “Why would… why?”

You shrug, “Maybe he’ll help me figure out why you’re such a grump.” You half-heartedly tease. Eddie scoffs, returning to watch the movie he’s landed on, “If you think I’m grumpy, you’re not equipped to meet Wayne.” He comments. And then something remarkable happens.

Eddie smiles to himself.

It’s small and obviously not meant for your eyes, but you see it either way, and it… fuck, it makes you feel things you would’ve never imagined you could for such an asshole of a man. What is going on?

“He can’t be any worse than you.” You joke. Eddie scoffs, “Nah, Wayne takes the cake for grumpiest man alive,” he bids. 

Eddie tells you about Wayne, little memories he remembers that bleed into more memories until, eventually, he’s practically taking a walk down memory road. You go back and forth with him, commenting when you had a similar situation or when Eddie mentioned the same show you loved in high school.

At some point, Eddie’s stories and the low hum of the TV lull you to sleep, and you find yourself lying in cotton candy clouds, sinking into the softness and letting it surround you. 

Eddie’s not sure when you checked out on him, but he figures he’d been talking to himself for a while because you're fast asleep when he looks over at you.

He watches you for a moment and appreciates the way the blue and white hues of the TV dance across your face. Your skin looks soft under the fluorescent lights, and he thinks the steady rise and fall of your breaths is more entertaining than any movie he could’ve landed on. And you’re so pretty— soft and molded to perfection, and Eddie thinks he might like you more like this; when you’re not talking and being the most obnoxious person he’s ever met. Eddie hates the feeling he gets in his chest from just looking at you. 

You’re cute, he thinks.

He shakes his head to free himself from whatever weird feelings are spiraling through his mind, and he turns off the TV, letting the darkness swallow the room.

He’ll just have to worry about his feelings another time, he thinks.

————

part four

————

a/n: HII U MADE IT TO THE END, U CAN ALL THANK MY STINK @mmunson86 FOR THE TINY PIECE OF FLUFF, THIS WAS FOR U BAE <3 ANYWAYS, PLS LET ME KNOW HOW U LIKED THIS PART I ALWAYS LOVE TO HEAR UR FEEDBACK, ILY BYE

————

cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2 @mvnsonslvt @s-u-t

#SCREAMMMM #HERE SHE IS #I HOPE U ENJOYYYYY #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie x reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson au #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson headcanon #eddie x fem!reader #stranger things au #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie smut #rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader #journalist!reader

[harunayuuka2060]

Lucifer: Is everyone done eating?

His brothers: Yes.

Lucifer: Good. *glancing at MC*

The brothers: ...

Asmo: Lucifer, I think it's my turn now to take care of MC.

Levi: No. Your turn was yesterday. It's my turn today.

Asmo: Oh.

Lucifer: Levi, try to make sure that MC will be comfortable.

Levi: Yes.

Levi: *walks in silently to his room while carrying MC's soulless body*

Levi: I know it's a little bit messy. But I promise to clean up after.

MC: ...

Levi: ...

Levi: MC... Will you never come back to us?

Levi: Lucifer said that you were just resting somewhere.

Levi: To be honest, I know you're not here anymore.

Levi: *smiles bitterly* But we don't understand why your body remains.

Levi: You don't smell like a corpse and your eyes will close when it's nighttime. So... We're really hoping that there's still a chance.

Simeon: Luke, do you not want to visit MC in the House Of Lamentation?

Luke: What for? They're gone.

Simeon: Luke—

Luke: Even if I see them, MC will never smile to me like before. They will never call my name.

Luke: They will never know that I miss them.

Simeon: ...

Simeon: Luke, I know how you feel. Just... Please find in your heart to forgive Lucifer and his brothers.

Luke: ...

Luke: I can't do that, Simeon. I'm sorry.

Solomon: You have been placing some heavy curses in your cave, Thirteen.

Thirteen: Because a certain someone keeps in getting in.

Solomon: *chuckles* Well, I'm desperate.

Solomon: If you would only allow me to have a glimpse of MC's soul—

Thirteen: No. I have nothing to show you.

Solomon: Thirteen, I'm not the only one trying to get them back. Lucifer and his brothers, Diavolo, and even Michael.

Thirteen: ...

Thirteen: Ha! And you think they'll be safe if I hand their soul to you.

Solomon: I am responsible to what happened to them. I want to make things right.

Thirteen: ...

Thirteen: It's too late now. And I expect that since a human too, Solomon, that you would understand.

Thirteen: MC is dead. A soul unwilling to be revived.

Solomon: ...

Michael: *watching MC (an angel) that has a blank expression*

Michael: Do you recognize me?

MC: ...

MC: Yes.

Michael: Hm. You did well, Raphael. This one knows how to respond.

Raphael: We only need to obtain their soul from the reaper and their rebirth will be complete.

Michael: I see. MC?

MC: Yes.

Michael: Do you know why you're here?

MC: Yes.

Michael: ...

MC: I was too arrogant. And I tried to escape my punishment.

Michael: That's right. But we won't punish you for now.

Michael: You have to be completely conscious when we do so.

MC: Yes.

Michael: *smiles in satisfaction* Now, go back to your room. We don't want anyone recognizing you.

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me levi #obey me asmo #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me thirteen #obey me raphael #obey me michael

[teyamsgrl]

how sorry i am ✧ lo'ak

❗️MDNI ❗️

OKOK lo'ak is ofc our sweet baby but the idea of enemies to lovers with lo'ak just 🦋🦋🦋 / i hope you all enjoy!! just look at his lil mean face above >:(

°˖➴ warnings: fem metkayina reader, enemies to lovers, agedup!lo'ak, mean!lo'ak, sub!lo'ak, blood mention (not sex related), slight angst, slow burn??, body worship, oral f receiving, some nipple play - paskalin: honey

lo'ak being your brother's best friend was quite the shit position. ever since lo'ak and his family joined the metkayina people a year ago he has despised you, very publicly as well. anytime he saw you, he teased you, talked down to you, etc. he made you feel shitty, but here's the catch: you had an undeniable crush on him. as much as you wanted to deny the fact, you just couldn't. it was something about how you saw him with other people, observing how he really is. how he took care of his little sister and was always willing to help others out. you knew he harassed you for a specific reason; what it was you had no idea. you still acted hostile towards him to keep your true feelings covered, plus it was unfair to let him treat you like this without retaliation.

"lo'ak's staying over" you brother says as he enters your pod late in the evening, lo'ak trailing behind him. you roll your eyes, "great..", you glance up quickly to take in lo'ak's appearance. pretty. "trust me, i'm not pleased about seeing you either" lo'ak scoffs and takes a seat on your brother's cot, taking his bow off of his back. you continue cutting the fruits scattered around you on the woven mat, tossing them into a bowl afterwards. you go to slice the next one in half, accidentally nicking one of your fingers. "ouch.." you mumble, looking down to see the pearl of blood on your finger. you wipe it on a nearby rag, catching lo'ak's eyes on you. "awwww, can't handle a little cut?" he teases, pouting at you. "shut up" you mumble again, moving back to continue cutting, making sure the blood didn't get anywhere else. "can't even cut fruit properly, damn" he smirks watching your eyes narrow in anger. sometimes you wish your brother did something to defend you, but he probably just accepted that you and lo'ak hated each other and it would always be that way. you ignore his comment, "always knew you were a bit incompetent but shit, that's bad" he chuckles mockingly, causing anger to bubble up inside of you. you may secretly like him but he is a dick. you throw down the large fruit in your hand and the knife, standing up and rushing out of your pod. you had it with him, and yourself. what kept drawing you to him? and why couldn't you turn it off? you turn and run past all the other marui, feet hitting the sand as you exhale. you approach the water, about to call your ilu before you hear a voice calling you, "y/n! wait!"

you scoff as you recognize the voice right away, "just leave me alone, lo'ak" you state firmly, back facing him as he comes closer. "y/n" he places a hand on your shoulder, urging you to face him. the ecstatic feeling that ran through your body was indescribable, he had never touched you before, even when passing by. you turn to come face to face with him, your eyes gazing up into his. "i'm sorry-" he mumbles, his amber eyes blank and searching yours. "sorry? you're sorry? after a year of harassing me you're suddenly sorry? i bet my brother made you do this..." you sigh and bring your hands to your head, tugging your braids gently out of frustration. "he didn't, i swear-" you cut him off again, feelings bursting out of your mouth without a second thought. "yeah sure, lo'ak, i doubt it. what made you feel so bad today? instead of yesterday or the day before? fuck- you have never felt bad about making fun of me before, and it's so stupid that i don't just avoid you because of my... because-" you stop yourself before you go too far off the edge and are unable to turn back. "because of what?" he inquires, you have never heard his voice so gentle towards you before. "because i like you, okay?! i like you too much for my own good and i hate the fact that i do!" you scream, tears forming in your eyes as you realize what you've just admitted. you take a deep breath in, unable to release it before lo'ak's lips are on yours, kissing feverishly. you gasp and pull away, trying to figure out if that actually just happened. "don't- don't do that just to mess with me, please" he shakes his head immediately, denying your accusation. "i'm not, i'm genuinely sorry about everything i've said to you. i don't know why i did it, probably projecting my own shit but- i like you too, so much. i just want to make it up to you, if you'd even let me.." you notice how his tail is moving, softly moving left and right as if in anticipation. you nod at his words, trying to comprehend his side of things. "i'm willing to forgive you. you'll most definitely have to prove it, but i'm willing to. and willing to become more eventually… if you'd want that", a small smile pulls itself onto your lips. "thank you..." he smiles back and reaches for your hips, "let me make it up to you, show you how sorry i am, please. how much i feel for you..."

you breathe shakily as he sinks to his knees, bending to start at your ankle and place delicate kisses up your leg. your run your hand along his cheek as he moves to repeat the actions on your other leg. "you're so beautiful, so beautiful..." he whispers and stands back up, kissing along your jaw now. you sigh in delight and tilt your head to allow him to continue. he smiles against your skin and moves down your neck and the middle of your chest. "can i take it off?" he questions as his hands run behind your back to the tie of your top. you nod and shiver as he removes it, the evening air grazing your nipples, breasts perky and freckles glowing. "shit.." he breathes and kisses his way to your nipple, flicking his tongue over it once to test the waters. the whimper that leaves your mouth says enough as he sucks it into his mouth. "l-lo'ak" you stutter out as his warm mouth has your nipple encapsulated, your thighs pressing together to relieve the arousal beginning to pool.

he releases it with a pop, kissing to the other. "i just wanna worship your fucking body.. never seen someone prettier" you whine at his words as he sucks the other nipple into his mouth, tongue rolling around it and toying with it. your hands weave their way into his hair, tugging on his braids as another whine escapes your lips. he hums and unlatches again, hands lingering over your loincloth. "wanna taste.. wanna make you feel good... please", he almost whimpers the sentence out, "yes, lo'ak, yes". he unties your loincloth and helps you step out of it, moving to his knees again. he licks his lips and looks over your wet pussy, his head leaning on your stomach. "tell me what you want, please princess, i just wanna please you..." he kisses your stomach and awaits a response from you, his ragged breaths tickling your stomach.

"mouth, mouth..." you look down on him as he places one of your feet on his shoulder, giving him the perfect angle to dive in. which he does. his tongue makes it's first move against your clit, eager bud pulsing under his tongue. you moan and toss your head back, your hips fervently pushing against his tongue. he moves further, tongue delving into your tight and dripping hole. "that's good, that's so good-" you gasp and keep yourself steady by your grip on his braids. he hums into you, the vibrations bringing you even more pleasure. his mouth never falters, licking and sucking and kissing all over your pussy. he shifts away to breathe quickly, "you taste so sweet, even better than i would've thought. so beautiful, i wanna be down here forever" he whines out and moves back in, nose nudging your clit as his tongue glides around and in your hole again. he takes note of your demeanor change, breathing more heavy and hip movements more aggressive.

"you're close, baby. fuck my face, use me. just feel good... i got you" he mumbles as he brings a couple fingers to stroke your clit at a fast pace, desperate to bring you to an orgasm. your eyes roll back as you hold his braids tighter, grinding onto his tongue and into his fingers. "oh great mother- i'm- lo'ak i'm gonna-" you squeal as he frantically rubs your clit, removing his mouth so he can coax you through it. "that's it, you're so perfect, i got you, so perfect... just let go" he moans softly as your orgasm snaps in you, cum flowing out of you as his tongue retreats back into your pussy to collect what he can. your chest is heaving as your legs wobble, mind out of sorts at the fact that lo'ak who 'hated' you just hours ago confessed to you and made you cum.

he helps your leg down, holding you close as he stands back up. "there we go..." he says as you instantly hug around his waist. "thank you, lo'ak" you look up to catch his eyes which are now glowing softly. "no need to thank me, it's the least i could do. you know, to apologize and prove myself to you, all that. i will be doing that very often, if you'll let me" he holds your face in his sizable hands, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. "well, that was amazing honestly.. and yes, i want to please you sometime as well..." your one finger trails down to his waistband and plays with it. "mhmmm, but you're my first priority always, and i'm gonna start acting like it. no more mean guy..." he sighs, clearly ashamed of how he's acted this past year. "it's alright, paskalin... let's spend the day together tomorrow? i want to show you a special place" you rest your head on his heart, hearing the rapid beats. "i'd really like that" he smiles and rests his chin on your head, basking in your loving presence.

#avatar #avatar 2009 #avatar fluff #avatar masterlist #avatar smut #atwow #jake sully #jake sully smut #jake sully x reader #jake sully fic #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam smut #neteyam fic #lo'ak #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak smut #lo'ak fic #lo'ak sully #neteyam sully #atwow smut #atwow masterlist #atwow fic #avatar fic #avatar the way of water #atwow angst #atwow fluff #avatar angst

[skyeslittlecorner]

On the other side - Andrealphus

I have no idea who proposed it because sadly I can't find it (found you! Thanks for inspiration @\rae-pss!), but someone came up with an idea of what would happen if the characters from WHB started to realize that the MC was not us. That there is someone on the other side of the screen who takes care of them. I created a little silly fic loosely interpreting it.

Word count: 1284

Other parts: On the other side | Promised Land | Point to point | Love is blind (18+)

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Life is so repeatable. Work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep, only with some little pleasures in between. You took off jacket, threw it away and plopped down at the chair. Old phone landed on a table as you were struggling with thoughts whether to eat instant noodles today or heat up yesterday's dinner.

"Come on, boys." You turn on game and tapped loading screen just from boredroom. "I don't have all evening."

You wanted to have a pet, you've considered it a lot. But with these earnings, the closest thing to an animal in this house were fish sticks. So all that had left to do was talk to fictional hot guys. At least they don't need to be feed.

When Andrea appeared on the display, you tapped on him with a smile.

"Hi, babygirl."

"Who’s there…?"

You've never seen this speech bubble before. Update? But nothing downloaded, and any additional files were in a queue. Well, maybe it was one of those little tweaks nobody notice. You tapped the screen about three hundred more times to see if there were any new voice lines, but this time everything was the same. Maybe it was just a combination of overactive imagination and tiredness. Yes. Instant noodles will be a better option, you will make them faster and go to bed faster.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

"…and then this stupid bitch said it was all my fault." 

Lying half on the chair, half on the desk, and half somewhere in between, you were chatting with a friend on Discord and doing tasks for nightmare pass.

"That sucks. What are you going to do about it?"

"No idea. But if they take my bonus because of her, I'll kill her, I swear."

"I hope everything will be fine, but I have to go. Sorry."

"Yeah… Have fun on a date."

"Thanks!"

Hearing the disconnection sound, you sighed. Obviously, you couldn't blame them, keeping fingers crossed that they had found their other half of orange, but now they didn't even have time to meet for coffee, and you lived three minutes' walk from each other. Talking together, joking together, everything faded into the background. In addition, work was getting worse...

"I also hope everything will work out"

The voice sounded different. Familiar. But they definitely weren't your friend. You quickly checked the screen to see if anyone had joined the voice chat, but the screen was blank.

"What… Who? How?" Of course, there was no one around the room. Is this the beginning of hallucinations?

"I'd like to ask this too."

The voice that came from the speakers. From the telephone. From...?

The phone screen showed only a familiar sprite turning its head from side to side.  You forgot about the strange update from a few days ago. Was that it again? Andrea's red braid was beautifully animated, and facial expressions changed, delicate movements of the eyebrows and lips showed new emotions. It really looked stunningly real.

"Gorgeous." You complimented in a whisper godly work of the animator. "I can't wait until you get L, since you already look so sexy as S..."

"What are S and L...?"

He answered without tapping. Moreover, he tilted his head as if listening. There's been a lot of talk about AI lately, but you didn't agree to use the microphone in game… Unless it's some stinky term of services. This needs to be turned off, it will probably be in the settings. But after checking options, there was nothing like that there.

"Strange…"

"Trust me, I find it unnatural too." Andrea replied with an uncertain smile. "I hear you, but I don't feel anyone around me. But your voice… It’s nice. Can you keep talking? It feels good to be less... alone."

He sounded so much in character. Whoever programmed this, put a lot of work into it. It was a little weird... but you were so tired and done that chatting with the AI seemed like a nice change.

"Sure. It's weird talking to the screen, but well, I do it all the time anyway. Good thing it’s only an AI, because if anyone heard half the nonsense I moan, they'd probably send me to solitary confinement."

"You're calling grown man babygirl."

"Because you are!"

He chuckled, and it felt almost like a talking to an actual human. Muttering such nonsense, you felt ashamed for a moment. If the government suddenly started eavesdropping, the agent who was in charge was such a poor man.

"Tell me something else." He asked. "I've been hearing your voice for several days. I'd like to finally know who I'm having the pleasure of talking with."

He didn't have to ask twice. Of course, without providing any personal details, but you could give him your name. And told about that stupid bitch at work...

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

You checked tumblr, checked X, and checked the official website of the game. There was no word about an update anywhere, and after writing that this new option with talking to devils was great, all mutuals started to worry if everything was okay or asked how to unlock it. What were you supposed to tell them? That it just appeared?

What's worse, you started to treat Andrea like an ordinary person. A human being. Turning on the game during cleaning, cooking or making bed, talking to that little devil on the screen, and... listening to his stories. He spoke so beautifully. Talked about how he likes to spend his time (if not murdering angels), or what everyday life in Nilfheim is like. Sometimes he worried about the war, sometimes was happy when you stayed with him longer being off work.

"My blindness is truly a gift." He said one day with a dreamy smile.

"Why so?"

"In this daily hustle, if my eyes were still working properly, I certainly wouldn't be able to hear you, a small voice in my consciousness. I thought there was something wrong with me. But when I finally focused, you heard me too."

What he said was so similar to what you remembered about own feelings. Longing tightened your chest, longing for someone who didn't exist in this world, and that feeling turned into pain.

"I'm also glad we can hear from each other." Your voice changed noticeably. 

Andrea sensed it.

"Now that we've been able to talk, maybe one day we'll be able to touch each other?" He held his hand out in front of him, but you knew he couldn't pass through the screen. Still, you placed a finger where his hand was. Stupid mind was tricking you that you could feel his warmth. Tears came to your eyes.

"One day." You whispered with a trembling voice. "I don't know how, but one day we will."

"Do not cry, please. I don't want you to ever cry because of me.”

You tried to keep calm, but it was no use. Maybe one day, in another time, in another reality. Maybe it will work. No, it has to work. No matter how crazy others might think you were, this wasn't the world you were supposed to stay in. Your intended one waited patiently on the other side of the screen. You just didn't know how to do it. Not yet.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb andrealphus

[val-cansalute]

PICKING UP THE ———- PIECES -———

ch. 1

ch. 2

ch. 3

ch. 4

ch. 5

ch. 6

a/n: short first chapter 🫤 also BORING AS FOCK but the next few will be longer and better, just stick with me cw: implied depression/ptsd, dark themes, not too heavy but please don’t read if this might trigger you, angst, no smut in this chapter but there might be some later on, creds to cafekitsune for dividers, MDNI 😡

Six months ago today, your gaunt figure limped through Jackson for the first time, arms scarred and trembling, and face adorned with a vacant expression. You’ve been here for a while now.

You heard Maria say, with time, you’d come out of your shell - actually speak to the others. But, no, you still stay holed up in your decaying room, recalling what happened that day obsessively, and only ever leaving to go on patrol. Only when you absolutely have to.

God, you don’t even know if you can call this grief anymore. Seems as though you built a nest in the sorrow. Would it still be considered missing him if you desperately want to stop seeing his face whenever you close your eyes.

Fuck, don't say that. Never say that.

Promise I still love you, big brother. Promise I'd do anything to see you again.

Well, nobody really pays you any mind; you just sink into the shadows of the shitty little apartment you've been put in. And it doesn’t matter to you because the thought of getting close to people again makes you sick anyway.

Never wanna feel this pain. Never again. Fuck, just go away, please.

I'm so sorry, Soren.

You’ve waited it out for months but, at this point, you've given up hope. Feels like maybe it’s time to go be on your own. You know it’s dumb, but you haven’t got much to live for now that he’s gone.

Late night, you crawl into the comfort of misery, chaining yourself to each painful memory; you cannot leave a single shard behind. Not one.

You will carry this with you for the rest of your days.

Somewhere along the line, dark fades to light and your mind goes blank for the first time in an eternity as you get up to follow that same routine.

Today, same as yesterday, and yesterday's yesterday, and yesterday's yesterday's yesterday, etc., etc., your partner is Ellie.

Maria seems to think the two of you are acquaintances, especially since the extroverted people around your age hadn't been able to drag much more than a few words out of you, but you don’t really talk, you stay out of each other’s ways.

You struggle to keep the smile up against the pushback of your aching cheeks when you’re talking to other people. Can never let them see.

Not even for a good reason. God, it’s just such an effort to talk about. It’s better for it to just nestle in your mind, where it’s made it’s home, where it’s comfortable.

Maybe part of why you stay out of each other’s ways is because you'd inadvertently come off as a dick during your first encounter, which would've been enough to push the already closed off Ellie to not interact with you at all. You weren't actually being rude though; she's hopefully figured that out at this point. She probably just got used to the interactions between you; silence dusted with passive aggressive remarks.

But, she doesn’t say much when you freak the fuck out if a clicker comes at you in a way that brings back memories. You’re grateful, regardless of her reason for doing so.

Perhaps it's the thought of leaving that is the spur to prick your sudden violence and, now, even you can tell you're getting worse. The feeling - it ensnares you like a bear trap when you see a clicker, so you fire frantically at its head. Blood splatters all over your front and you pull at the hem of your shirt to get a better look, mumbling, "Shit..." when you see the white fabric soaked through with the clicker's blood; cold water to the face.

Among the chaos, you must have turned on your foot weirdly, because your ankle feels like a stake has been stabbed right through it with each movement and you don’t know if you can walk.

Ellie finally manages to trace the sound of the gunshot to you after calling your name in worry for the past couple of minutes, running over to you. She pulls you around and looks over your jittery body for anything to worry about - brushes a thumb over the wet material, jerking it away before you can notice; you’re hyper aware, so you always manage to anyway - and then furrows her brows at you.

“Can you stop fucking around?”

You nod apologetically,

"Sorry. Feeling a bit out of it today..."

She sighs, still clearly angry, and turns away, "Let's go. We’re done here.”

You watch her figure retreat as you mount your horse with shaky footing. The ride back is a silent one. Once you reach the gates, you get off and pat the horse’s side. It has a name; you never cared to learn it. Maybe you knew you couldn’t stick around for long.

“Come on. Why are you just standing there?"

When your eyes meet hers, you feel utterly pathetic, but you don't have much of a choice.

“Can you… find, like, a stick? A big one...”

She stays quiet for a moment, seemingly thrown off by your question, so you're quick to add,

“I would do it but... I don't know, fuck, never mind...”

Ellie raises an eyebrow at you, her line of sight flicking down to your ankle as she takes note of your awkward stance and mutters with a sigh that makes you feel small, "Pain in the ass," before shaking her head.

"Yeah, it looks pretty bad," Ellie says after she crouches down and touches the wound, eliciting a pained wince (and a farewell to your last shred of dignity) from you.

She rises to her feet and brushes herself off as you wait for more of a response.

"Stick, right? You want a stick?"

You nod with a clenched jaw. She keeps looking down at you and the constant anticipation is starting to piss you off.

"No, you gonna ask for what you really need?" she says. "And drop the whole ‘tough guy’ act?"

You chuckle dryly, turning your eyes to the floor.

"You ever considered that maybe I actually am just a tough guy?"

“Ha ha,” she states in monotone, “Think you gave away the fact that you're not when you started crying over a twisted ankle," to which you raise an eyebrow at her.

“Uh, okay, nothing you just said was true, but, sure. Sure.”

“Yeah? Come over here and say that with some heart then, tough guy.”

You manage to take a few steps before falling.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought. Gonna need to be carried back," Ellie says.

“What about the big ass stick?”

“What is i-Fuck. Listen, even if that helps, which it won’t, you’d wreck your ankle even more and everyone’d be on my ass about it. So, quit talking and get over here," she says, reaching over to lift you off the floor.

You grimace jokingly, but Ellie doesn’t pick on the humorous nature of your words, “Oh. No piggyback?”

Ellie sighs, turning and crouching in front of you before you get on.

"I swear to god, you're infuriating," she sneers. "Now put your arms around my neck."

You’re acting slightly outside the confines of your silent, gloomy self again, and pretend to strangle her, “Since you asked so nicely.”

And you laugh at your own joke as you properly wrap your arms around her neck

"I'm glad you're having a good time; at least one of us is enjoying ourselves,” she grits out but you can hear the repressed smile in her voice.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

"Good. Now shut up and enjoy the ride." Ellie says before turning her gaze back to the front.

As the two of you make your way through the fairly empty paths of Jackson, Ellie remains silent, her expression unreadable.

You keep your eyes focused on her, the small puff of air that leaves her mouth with each step, and staying quiet as your chin finds itself resting casually upon her shoulder

After a few minutes of walking in silence, Ellie finally speaks up again. Her voice is so close, the warmth of her breath and heat.

“You got them girls off your ass yet?”

“Who? The ones that are trying to... befriend me?”

“Mhm, the ones that you’re kinda friends with.”

“Yeah, they quit trying.”

"Don’t blame you… I mean, I can understand, but don’t make it too obvious.”

“I’d rather not-“

“Right, it’s just- well, if you want to be alone, fine. I… can even… make sure those assholes don’t bother you, or whatever- but, not on patrol! Don’t go wandering around on your own like that ever again. It’s dumb."

“I know, I just got caught up in the moment. Sorry.”

"Good."

A heavy silence befalls the two of you as she trudges on.

"Why are you so damn heavy?" she eventually mutters.

You lift your head off her shoulder reflexively, aware of your weight pulling her down all of a sudden,

“Sorry.”

Ellie looks over her shoulder at you, her eyebrows knitted in unexpected concern,

“Hey… I was kidding.”

“Right… I knew that…”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever," she says. "Hm, look at that, we made it," gently patting your thigh before pushing the doors open. "Time to get off."

You slowly slide off her back, making sure to land on your good leg as you watch her search the area curiously in a waiting, one-footed stance.

She returns after a second, picking you up to place you on top of one of the quaint, makeshift hospital beds before she begins rummaging through the supplies. You watch her muscles flex and then, the sight of a woman you'd seen around captures your focus.

"What happened to her?" the woman asks, causing Ellie to lift her head, looking down at you.

"Twisted my ankle."

"Well, obviously," her tone is laced with sarcasm. "My question was how you twisted your ankle."

"Turned weird."

Your response earns you a bemused raise of her blonde eyebrows, "Alright, whatever," she says, pulling up a chair and sitting before you.

After a short, boring while, she lets go of your leg and looks up at you again,

"So, you got a sprain. I'm gonna have to wrap your ankle up, alright?"

A lock of her hair continuously pesters her as she begins carefully tending to your ankle, pulling fresh bandages taut around the injury.

"It's gonna stay sensitive for a few days," the woman states, "And you shouldn't walk on it for at least a week."

She places a hand upon Ellie's shoulder, pulling her out of the deep-end of her thoughts, and turning her away from you. A muffled, but aggressive, hushed conversation ensues between them as you glance around the room restlessly, only making out the irritated tone of Ellie's responses. It ends with her pinching her nose bridge and mumbling a, "Fine," and they're facing you again.

The woman gives the two of you a nod before exiting the room,

"You two be safe out there."

“Alright. I’ll take you home. Now, get on," she turns, arms out, backpack on her front, as she waits for you to get onto her back again.

The route to your place is short and quiet as night blankets the world, or what’s left of it. Before you know it, she's pushing open the door and setting you down on yet another tattered bed - your own.

You hiss at the contact your ankle makes with the bed, but Ellie seems unfazed, patting your thigh in the same way she did before, the way that made your stomach twist,

“You gonna be okay?”

You nod, though her deadpan tone doesn’t leave much room for the honest truth.

“Alright, well… I’ll get going, then.”

There’s a stark contrast in life between her coming and going; the constant rustling of the fabric of her coat and the sound of her heavy winter boots against your creaky floorboards, the sound of her sniffles and low voice, and the flurry of gusts of nippy winds whistling - all shut out with the cold of the outside once she closes the door behind her. Well, most of it.

Now, you’re left with the bite of cold air and the deafening silence that haunts you as you sit still upon your mattress with darkness cast over the room, seeming to melt everything together.

#fanfic #enemies to lovers #angst #ellie x y/n #ellie fluff #ellie williams fanfic #ellie smut #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams headcanons #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams angst #mean!ellie #tlou2 #tlou fanfiction #tlou #the last of us

[twice-my-age-simp]

You look like a shit

CACW!WandaMaximoffxFem!reader

Warnings: jealous Wanda, little bit of angst, fluff

Summary: After Stark’s party, Wanda isn’t very happy with you. You try your best in making things right while being hang over.

Word count: 2364

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were awoken by your doors being slammed closed. Slowly opening your eyes, you groan at the sun coming through the window. Someone must have opened the curtains and you might have an idea of who it was. You turn around in your bed and look next to you.

"Yup, she's pissed." you said to yourself.

You took some more time looking at the blank space next to you that should have your girlfriend.

Pushing yourself up, you go to the bathroom.

"I look like a shit." looking in a mirror, you see that yesterday's party left its mark on you.

Messy hair, dimples under the eyes and the worst- hangover. Definitely too much of Thor's alcohol from Asgard or whatever it was.

You brush your teeth, trying not to look in the mirror anymore. You went to your closet. For sure today's not the day for wearing jeans and a cropped shirt.

Grabbing some sweatshirts and pants you left your room.

"You look like a shit." said Nat, who passed you in front of your door.

"I know!" you yelled after her.

You made your way to the kitchen for breakfast. As soon as you got there, you saw Wanda putting her dishes in a sink and leaving the room.

"Can we talk?" you said, but too late- she was gone.

Sighing you went to the fridge to pick up some food.

"Problems in paradise?" you didn't have to turn around to know that it was Tony with his teasing smirk on his face.

You grabbed some yogurt and faced him, looking in his eyes with a serious look.

"Damn, you look like a shit."

"Thanks Tony, didn't notice." you answered ironically.

You sat on a chair, placed your food on a table and started eating. At first, it was quiet, but then someone else just couldn't stop their curiosity.

"Soo... What did you do?" Nat asked, sitting in front of you.

You blushed. It was because you’re clearly embarrassed or feel guilty, they couldn't tell.

"Doesn't matter. I just have to come up to her and we will talk things out. That is if she will talk to me"

"Well… good luck with that. She doesn’t look like she wants to talk." It was Tony this time.

"I know"

You signed, placed the food aside and put your face down on the table with a groan. The rest of the Avengers didn’t really pay attention to that and just went away with their plans. You were lying there for some minutes thinking about what to do to make Wanda forgive you. The thing is, Wanda does not like presents like flowers or chocolates, she says that the flowers will die quickly and chocolates are a waste of money. She prefers doing something together, even little things like watching films or just walking around while holding hands, but you don’t think Wanda is in the mood for holding hands. You have to plan something unique, something she will not be able to resist.

And then you got it. As fast as you could, you stood up, cleaned the table, and grabbed one of Tony’s car keys. You left the compound, driving away. The drive wasn’t long. You park in front of the market and enter it looking for ingredients. Walking through the aisles, you were trying to find everything fast so as not to waste time. First, you grabbed some milk, then chocolate, baking powder and sugar. While shopping, you heard some people talking about your look. You just rolled your eyes, you knew you didn’t look good today, but come on! Everyone sometimes has a bad day.

Wanting to leave the place quickly, you grabbed what you needed and headed for the counter. You paid with Tony’s card and left the market. After putting the groceries in the trunk, you got into the car and speed away almost running someone over.

When you arrived back at the compound, you walked quickly into the kitchen. Wanda doesn’t like chocolates, but she loves to cook and she loves when you cook something for her, especially your wonderful cookies. So that’s the plan, you’re going to bake for your girlfriend and surprise her with it and she won’t resist it and will have to forgive you.

You took the ingredients from your cupboards and your bag. You mixed dry and wet separately and at the end, together. You chopped some chocolate and added it to the mass. You put it on the baking paper in the shape of a circle and put it next into the oven. While they were baking, you took a glance at the kitchen. It was a total disaster; flour was everywhere, knives were dirty, some milk was spilled on the counter when you tried to pour it into the bowl. You signed, you were tired, but then you reminded yourself that you were doing it for Wanda, so you quickly started to tidy up.

When you finished, you saw that you still had some time before the cookies were done. You prepared a tray, you put on it a plate and a glass of apple juice. Now all you had to do was wait, so you sat on the sofa and watched some TV.

You heard the oven signal, meaning the cookies were finally baked. You placed some of them on the plate and waited a few minutes for them to cool down. When you were walking with the tray down the corridor to your shared bedroom, you had to admit you were a little scared. It’s only your sweet girlfriend, but now your sweet and caring girlfriend is a pissed-off witch who can easily blast you through a wall.

Being deeply in your mind, you didn’t even realize it when you stopped in front of the door. You took a deep breath and entered the room.

Wanda was sitting on the bed, reading a book. She didn’t even spare you one look. You closed the door with your leg and you came closer to the witch.

"Hi babe." nothing in response. "I-I baked some cookies and thought you would like some.." you said nervously, staring at her.

Still she didn’t say anything. You placed the tray on the nightstand beside her and sat on the bed still waiting for her response. However, no words left her mouth and all she did was read her book. You actually weren’t sure if she was still reading it or just staring at it to look like she was ignoring you. You couldn’t tell.

"Come on, my love. Talk to me, you can’t be mad at me forever."

After a few seconds she finally answered, but you weren’t happy with her response.

"Actually I can and will." she said still not looking at you.

"Babe, please… you know I didn’t mean to upset you." you tried again.

"Don’t babe me. You know I don’t like you talking with that secretary girl. She has a thing for you! And you let her touch your stupid bicep a-and she was laughing at everything you said even if it wasn’t funny. It was so unbearable and annoying!" she looked at you with anger in her eyes and you knew you were fucked.

"Sweetheart, you know I only love you and you alone. I was drunk and you know, when I am like this I talk to anyone. I just become this bubbly person who needs someone to talk to. I don’t even remember what we talked about, but you know what I remember very well? Your gorgeous dress and just how marvelous you looked, all I could think about the whole time was my beautiful girlfriend." you admit while smiling silly at her.

Yet it didn’t seem to flatter her, as her expression was still not pleasant. Or maybe it did, but she was good at hiding it. You signed not knowing what to do anymore.

"What can I do for you to forgive me?" you asked with hope.

"You can leave." she answered with fury in her eyes and titled head.

You knew it was your cue to leave if you wanted to keep your life. You quickly left the room already planning something new.

When the door was closed, Wanda turned to the cookies. She picked one up, bit it and groaned because of the delicious taste with her eyes closed. Truthfully, she wasn’t mad at you the moment you brought her the cookies and when she heard your sweet words she forgave you fully. She didn’t tell you anything because she wanted to see how far you would go for her to forgive you. For now, she has to wait while eating and reading the book.

While Wanda was chilling in the room, you were running around looking for things for your new plan. You have to do something romantic. The rest of the Avengers were slightly confused when you just ran into their rooms and looked for something in the closets, but only for a few seconds. They knew you long enough to better not question you or they will have to help you because you won’t leave them unless they do something for you. So it was your whole afternoon. Running around, making a mess and just acting all crazy. Of course it didn’t go without small remarks from your teammates, especially from Tony, Sam and Nat. You lost count of how many times they said you 'looked like a shit'. Actually, you weren’t even paying attention to them anymore, you had one thing on your mind and that was to make Wanda not kill you with her look.

When it was dark outside, you could finally say that you had finished what you were doing. Now all you had to do was somehow make Wanda come here. And that’s how you ended up in front of the door. You knocked with a small smile on your face. The door opened up and the person looked at you.

"No." Nat said without even letting you utter a word.

"You didn’t even let me say anything." you answered with confusion.

"I don’t need to hear it, I know it contains something you want me to do."

"Oh come on, don’t be like that! Please, Nattyyyy.." you pleaded while trying to make sweet eyes.

"First of all, don’t call me that. Secondly, don’t make that face, you look as if you will bleed from your nose and ears in a moment." you immediately stopped and just stared at her with irritation. "And lastly, what will I get from it?"

"My eternal gratitude?" You asked hopefully. She just stared at you with a 'are you serious?' look. "Ehhh… ten bucks?"

"Fifteen." she said, not backing down.

"What? No!"

"Then we have nothing to talk about." she answered and stepped back to close the door.

"N-No! Wait, wait.." she opened the door again. You signed and said. "Fine, fifteen bucks, you asshole."

"Excellent! So what do I have to do?" she asked happily.

You explained to her that all she had to do was ask Wanda to go out to the roof balcony. And that’s what she did. Natasha texted her that she needed some help. Wanda walked out of the room and started her journey to the roof. When she finally stepped on the balcony, she saw some lights hanging from one wall to another. There were a lot of small decorations, like several candles. She also heard slow music playing and in the middle of this everything you were standing and looking at her. She was in awe and really touched by your surprise for her. Finally, she walked closer to you and is now standing in front of you.

"I was trying to make it as it was on our"

"First date." Wanda interrupted you, knowing very well what you wanted to say.

You just nodded and extended your hand for her to take. So she did. It was as it was on the first date. Romantic scenery, slow music that you danced to all night. Without any words, just eye contact that told you everything. You both remembered that night when you started to date. The night when you immediately knew you were made each other.

When the music ended, you were standing in front of each other, staring into each other’s eyes, noses almost touching. It was quiet for a few minutes, but so magical. No words needed. You smiled at each other slightly and started slowly leaning in as if it were your first kiss and you were both afraid that the other would pull away. That didn’t happen of course and both of you soon kissed. Lips moving slowly against each other in a sweet and loving kiss. It wasn’t the one full of lust and desire, but full of affection and just showing every little feeling that one felt for the other.

When you pulled away, cheeks slightly red, you smiled widely at each other. You have your hands on her waist, hers around your neck playing with your little hairs. Both of you are a little out of breath.

"I love you, Wanda Maximoff. No one and nothing will ever change that." you said in a whisper only for her to hear, even though you were the only ones outside.

"I know, I love you too." She smiled.

"Soooo… You’re not angry with me anymore?" You asked.

"Honey, I wasn’t the moment you brought me the cookies. I just wanted to see where this would lead us to and I have to say, I’m really happy with the results." she admitted with a teasing smile.

"Ooohhh, you’re just cruel, baby." you both giggled.

You danced for some more time and at the end Wanda had to admit one more thing.

"As much as I love that, it’s so beautiful and I couldn’t imagine anything better, I have to say something." she started, you just looked her in the eyes and waited for her to continue." you look like a shit.

You let out a groan and hid your face in her neck as she sweetly giggled.

#elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff #fluff #x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #the avengers #natasha romanoff #tony stark

[orangeave]

the great war

wednesday addams x gn!reader

summary: sometimes, the war is over before it ever truly began.

words: a quick 800+

Wednesday's words shoot to kill, her normally dull, dark gaze turning into a swirling storm of anger. You know that one, or both, of you are not getting out of this unscathed but you press on. A chasm opening beneath your chest that you plead with Wednesday to cross.

“That's not fair and you know it. Why do you continue to punish me for things I've never done? When have I ever given you a reason to doubt my motives?”

A scoff leaves Wednesday's sneered lips and it is bitter; cruel. You understand, far too late, that this is a fight with only one winner and the victory will never belong to you. You loathe it – damn the hollowness that only furthers to widen the gap between you. Briefly, you wonder when the sourness of your relationship took root, how the ivy of your love grew thorns meant to tear everything asunder. 

Perhaps it was always there, disguising itself from view until the light hit it from an opposing angle. Loving Wednesday has never been easy but you weren’t naive, from the start you knew what you were getting yourself into. 

There’s a resignation in the way you fold into yourself, chin tucking into your neck with a shallow nod. Wednesday watches the movement but makes no move to console it, instead turning her back to you with hands clenching into tight fists and it is achingly familiar – a subtle form of her giving up; on the fight, on you, on everything you were building together.

An ache metastasizes in your throat and behind your eyes; when you speak, the words roll off your tongue with a vague sense of apathy, “You are a match within a gaping maw and the saliva behind its sharp teeth is kerosene. Every exhale is a spark turning into a pyre of flames and you only hold the capacity to scorch all the things you’ve deemed have betrayed you. I cannot love you like this, when my body is burn marks and smouldering skin.”

When you regain your ground, a hand reaches out for one of hers despite your words. Your fingertips brush over her white, blotting knuckles but she’s quick to rip it away from your grasp. The reaction makes you recoil and it further proves your point; another scalding blemish to add to the collection. “It hurts to love you, Wednesday.”

“I have never asked for your incessant need to love me. If anything, it is the last thing I want, so why don’t you do the both of us a courtesy and leave. You have fulfilled your usefulness.” She spits out, finally spinning around to look at you. You’re only a few quick paces away from her but it feels like there’s an entire world between you. Her features still carry her usual blankness, though there is the barest of lines tugging down at each corner of her lips, a murky scrunch of contempt anchoring her nose and brows in place. 

It’s always been the little things with Wednesday that tell you how she really feels and right now, they are painting a picture you wish you were blind to. Yesterday suddenly seems so far away, when you two were whispers in the dark and hands held in secrecy because PDA will never be something Wednesday participates in. 

There’s none of that now and it tears something visceral inside you, something you know may never mend.

You want to fight this ending, for her, but it has become a war, one that you aren’t capable of surviving without sacrificing parts of yourself that no longer exist. You’ve given her everything already, all fragments of your being – there’s simply nothing left. 

Slowly, you gather your belongings and subtly hide one of her sweaters in your bag. (It has to be enough, if you can’t have her.) The walk to the dorm room door is heavy, you feel it weigh down every last bone in your body and when your fingers wrap around the doorknob, you foolishly want it to be her hand that you’re holding.  

Your head tilts toward her, even though the rest of you stays facing the exit. Wednesday stares as you commit her form to memory, drinking her in from her dark hair, down to her chunky, black boots. You sear the image into the back of your corneas, willing it to stay there and promising yourself that one day, though not any time soon, you’ll wash it free from this moment. You’ll cleanse away the sickness that creeps along the edges, wishing to taint the version of her that you still love. 

The door closes behind you with a sharp click and you step further into the hall, a large mass of grief settling on your shoulders. And you have no idea what you mourn more; her… or yourself because this isn’t just the end of your relationship. 

It is also a death and it is solely yours.

(– your body is a cemetery and you hold a bouquet of burns.)

#wednesday x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagines #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams #wednesday x you

[gloxk]

“Mary Jane.”

Gojo satoru ~

Summary: Your best friend was a snake. She slept with your boyfriend at a party. Everything shattered when you saw them. Your heart broke, leaving you with hatered and resentment. But two can play that game. Didn't she know? Karma’s a bitch.

W/C : 2k+. READING TIME: 10 minutes.

Setting: Modern Au, Reader is in their 20’s.

Song inspo:The best I ever had (Limi)/ Birthday S*X (Jeremih)/Drunk in love (The weekends version)/What you need(the weekend.)

A/N: Happy kinktober. It’s been a minute. (I've returned just for this years kinktober) idk i’ve just been busy fr. I haven’t been writing at all 😭. But I was on tik tok right, and i saw this lil video abt a story. So yall know those reddit stories? Bro this story was fucking outrageous, i tell ya. So boom bro got cheated on by his gf and she slept w his best friend. I was like damnnnnn 💀 ain’t no way. So bro turned around n fcked his ex best friends sister. The crazy thing is HE RECORDED IT. AND HE SENT IT TO BRO. I got carried away w this one. (I was high asf.) But anyway please enjoy! My grammar might be fucked up i didn’t feel like prof reading. Mdni/ageless blogs you will be blocked. 17+.

Warnings: F/M relations,Jealousy, angst if you squint, friend dumping, lewd behavior, DRUGS & alcohol. (mary J) mentions of Ex, BJ’s, Male receiving, unprotected sex (I got a little nasty w this one)

————————————————

You sat there disappointed in your dry phone. It was like looking at a blank screen. The night was cold, dark, and quiet. Everything was different now that you cut off your toxic-ass best friend. Deleting all the pictures and videos of you two. All the happiness and laughter y’all had shared just for it to be ruined in a few hours. The incident only happened a few days ago.

You decide to scroll through your alt account’s Instagram feed hoping to see something interesting. Something interesting indeed popped up. A little green circle around your ex-best friend’s profile picture. “Curiosity killed the cat ya’know?”, It surely killed you as soon as you clicked it. She was with your Ex. Your face scrunched in disbelief. You couldn’t help but muster up a pitiful laugh. What was going through her goddamn mind? Did she know the alt belong to you? Was the random pinterest boy profile picture not convincing enough? You nearly tossed your phone to the ground you felt tears bubbling up in your eyes. You remember the whole thing like it was yesterday. The horrible things you said to each other. But one thing she said in particular stuck in your head. “You aren’t even together anymore! Why the fuck do you care Y/n?”, Those were the last words she said to you, the last words you needed to hear to leave her alone. It hurt you so much, the girl you known from middle school betrayed you.

It was late maybe around 11 pm. Your mind was filled with anger. You couldn’t stop thinking about it. You told her everything and she did the same. You two grew up together. When you introduced your boyfriend and best friend they hit it off. They were so cool with each other that it seemed like a dream come true. Having your best friend actually like your boyfriend was extremely rare to come by. Your dream came short-lived after you found them fucking in a bathroom at a party. It hurt so fucking bad. You clenched your shirt trying not to cry. That night broke you, you lost everything in 4 hours. All it took was a couple of shots and one blunt to have your whole world crash. In a fit of rage, you decided to go through her entire Instagram feed. Scrolling through every single post. In a recent post from earlier today, you saw a dump of her stepbrother. All of the pictures were silly, cute pictures of him. You couldn’t lie, he was fine as fuck. You saw her stepbrother a couple of times when y'all were younger, but god did puberty hit him good. He was tall and muscular with a sharp jawline. He has white hair and beautiful ocean-colored eyes. He had a couple of arm tattoos as well. You sat there trying to remember his name. You looked over the caption trying to find something leading to him, the caption read: “HAPPY 19th BIRTHDAY @satoruxgxjo! I hope 19 treats you good lil, bro :).” That was his name! You finally remembered him. Satoru gojo, it was definitely moan-able. You DM’D him almost immediately.

(Y/n): “Hey! I saw your birthday was earlier and I wanted to wish you a happy 19th birthday!” You didn’t know what you expected him to say back to that. You didn’t know if you wanted him to immediately block you or text you back. Maybe if he blocked you would be able to move on and heal. But all you wanted was revenge. After two minutes you got a notification from Instagram. (satoruxgxjo): “Yo, I appreciate it. it’s been a minute. How have you been?” A smug smile arose on your face. You instantly texted him back. (Y/n): “I’ve been amazing. Recently I had just got some za from a friend and since it’s your birthday maybe we can roll up?” You watch as your text goes from Sent to Seen. Your heart immediately went faster.(satoruxgxjo): “Lmao? That was quick but sure. I don’t mind. Addy?” Your face was sinister. If he could see your face right here probably think twice about his current decision. You sent him your location, (Y/n): “I mean it’s not like we don’t know each other Saturo, just pull up :) We can catch up!”, You were so happy that this was gonna work out perfectly. (satoruxgxjo): “Who is Saturo? It’s Satoru* n I’m otw.” That happiness quickly faded into embarrassment. How could you forget his name already? You repeated it 10x to remember it, while repeating his name you quickly got up and rushed upstairs.

You dressed yourself in a loose shirt that hung off your shoulders, your chest was the only thing holding it up. Underneath you made sure to treat your guests to an easy reveal no bra and pink Victoria's Secret lace panties. Your hair was messy letting little strands of hair frame your face. You rushed downstairs to set everything up, you grabbed an open bottle of Hennessy and accompanied it with a jar of bud including a pack of Raw’s. Everything was set for the most part. You dimmed the lights and played some sensual music. You turned your TV on to some random Netflix show to make it seem casual. You soon turned your attention to the door as the doorbell rang. A wicked smile placed on your face, your hips swaying to the music. You opened the door and smiled at your victim—I mean visitor. “Heyy~.” Your voice filled with a welcoming tone. Luring him in like a fisherman. “Hey, Y/n.” He had a basic white shirt on, and his muscular body filled it out nicely. His lower half was hidden behind grey sweatpants, He had on white cross that were no longer white. His tall frame continued to tower over you. He sounded so nonchalant, but his blue eyes told a different story. He couldn’t stop looking at your bare shoulders. “Come in hun.” You moved out of his way and motioned him to the couch. The table caught his attention immediately. You made your way to the kitchen swaying to the beat of the music. “Henny? Whatcha got this for?” He picked up the bottle with an eager smile. “Why else Satoru?” You winked at him. Watching him open the bottle and pour himself a shot. “Well, Hopefully, it’s not for little ole me. God, you wouldn’t make such a silly mistake and give an underage boy Hennessy? Right?” He asked mocking you. A smug expression on his face. You couldn’t wait to wipe it off. “Oh of course not! I would never do such a disgraceful thing. But..I won’t tell if you won’t.” He threw his head back and he gulped down the shot of liquor. The burning sensation only made him crave it more. “You know I don’t kiss and tell.” He chuckled as he watched you sit down on the couch. He soon followed you and plopped down beside you. “You ever rolled before?” You looked at him as you picked up the grinder. “Nah, I’m more of a pipe or hookah person. Ya’know?” You giggled at him. He was falling into your trap without even knowing. “Lemme show you how to roll then.”. You took him through the basic steps. Letting your hands guide his. After a few attempts, he was able to get a good enough roll for a beginner. “And now ya gotta lick it.” You bent over his lap using his muscular arm to hold yourself up. You dragged your tongue over the paper making sure to seal it. You took the joint from him and began to light it. His eyes watched you dangerously. After a couple of pulls, you handed it back over to him. He pulled a heavy hit making him cough. You poured another shot for the both of you. Handing him a glass of liquor. “Oh? Is that for me? How kind.” Your hand sat between his thighs. “Of course.” He took the glass and knocked it back, and you followed his lead.

You weren’t slightly drunk nor were you high. But you couldn’t say the same for Satoru. He almost finished your bottle of Hennessy. His head was between your neck and shoulder. He was mumbling incoherent nonsense, you didn’t particularly care what he was babbling about. He was lying between your legs using your chest to keep him propped up. His hands rubbing your thigh, “Mm..please.” He mumbled desperately. “I told you not to drink too much Gojo. Now look at you.” You laughed as you rubbed his head. “.. I know. m’ sorry. Please y/n. Please.” You were confused you didn’t know what he was asking for to be quite frank. “You should get an Uber to take you home.” You nudged him to get off of you. He didn’t budge at all. His eyes looked up at you pleading with you. “I don’t wanna go. I wanna stay with you. lemme stay.” He was so whiny while he was drunk it was pissing you off. “Okay, you can stay.” He hummed softly in response. “upstairs?” You whispered in his ear, he nodded his head. You moved off the couch pulling him off with you. You walked him up the stairs to your bedroom. He was stumbling up the stairs you had to hold him up. Making it to your room in one piece was the hardest part. Opening the door his hands never left your body, If anything they became more needy. His fingers roamed around your back as he began to tug at your shirt.

You grabbed his hands telling him to stop. “I don’t know...if we should do this...I’m sure your sister wouldn’t like this.” You smiled as you pushed him on the bed. Of course, she wouldn’t like her brother sleeping with her ex-best friend. But that made it more exhilarating. Satoru groaned at your words. Bringing up what you and his sister had going on at a time like this was a low blow. “Don’t fuck with me Y/n. You’ve been touching me all night. Saying little shit to me. I’m ready now, and you’re gonna act like this?” You heard the frustration in his voice, looking down at his gray sweats pants you saw what else was frustrated. You laughed at him. “Oh look who’s mad at me. I’m just trying to respect you and your sister's relationship.” Your hands go under his shirt and rub his abs. He laughed as his arm covered his face. “Ah, so I understand why she called you a conniving bitch now.” Your smug face was quickly wiped with confusion. “Oh…Yeah? She gonna think I’m more than conniving after this.” You grabbed him by his hair pulling him closer. Your lips clashed against his, you could taste the intoxication on his tongue. The kiss became sloppy fairly quickly. His hands continued to roam over your back. He followed your lead not allowing your mouth to leave his. He yanked at your shirt, he wanted to pull it off of you. Sitting on his lap, you took off your shirt and tossed it to the side. His hands went up to cup your breasts. His fingers ran over your hardened nipples, his expression was darkened with lust. “So fckin pretty.” He sat up leaving kisses on your neck and chest. You assisted him in taking off his shirt and tossed it over to yours. Leaving kisses on his neck and slowly moving downward to his chest. Taking your precious time with him. He was so impatient, whining if you didn’t kiss him. You used your finger to trace his v-line teasing him enough to push him. You got up and slowly removed his sweatpants leaving him in his tight boxers. Licking your lips at the sight, it was a delectable sight indeed. Tracing the bulging print through his Ethikas. “Oh my god…” You stuttered in disbelief, this man was packing. Satoru felt you tugging his boxers, he lifted his hips and allowed you to yank them off of him. The cold air hit him drawing out a long sigh. Those blue eyes watching you with a dangerous glint, those eyes screaming out for you. “don’t play with me Y/n.” He whispered, almost as if he was begging you to make him feel something. You seated yourself between his thighs, looking at him with awe. Your hands running up and down his hardened dick. You gave him kitten licks on his tip, licking away any pre-cum. He growled at the teasing, “C'mon.” his hand caressingyour cheeks. You smiled as you quickly put your mouth around the tip and bobbed your head up and down.

His tip hits the back of your throat every time. Satoru’s hand pushed your head down so he could feel you deep-throat him, “Fuuucckk, just like that.” You pulled your head back with an angry expression. “Nobody likes a head pusher.”, You glared at him. “Nobody likes a fucking teaser.” He mumbled. You laughed at his audacity as if he was the one in control. You slipped off your underwear and climbed on top of him. Letting him slide in slowly, inch by inch. You threw your head backward, rolling your neck. Low moans escaped your mouth as you felt his hips grinning against yours. “Go faster.” His tone completely shifted from whiny and desperate to frustration. He wanted more, He needed more. It wasn’t enough for him. You looked so pretty going up and down on him. His eyes watched your body lift itself off of him and right back down. Your nails dug holes in his chest, “That fuckin’ hurts Y/n.” He gave you a sadistic smile as he dug his nails into your hips. You shrieked in pain. You could quite literally feel his nails penetrate your skin. That didn’t stop you though, you couldn’t care less about anything other than cumming. Your mind became foggy and filled with a certain haze. “Mm. Keep going. Dnt stop.”, Those words left Satoru’s mouth, his thrusts were sloppy and no longer had rhythm. His fingers found their way to your clit and played with you to make sure you came before him. Your moans filled the room as you were so close. You stopped as you finally reached the bliss you been begging for, panting heavily trying to regain the breath you once had. The feeling of warm liquid filling you was a slap in the face. You soon realized you didn’t use protection. You looked down at Satoru whose eyes were closed with a smile of his face. “Oops, m’sorry i’ll get you a Plan B in the morning.” His hand gripped your ass while you sat there in disbelief. How could you fuck up this bad? You smiled as you seen him cover his face once again, “Don’t worry about it. I have some in the bathroom.”. You got off of him and made your way to the bathroom.

When you came back you saw sleeping Satoru, under your sheets wrapped around your blanket. It was a cute sight to see him so vulnerable, you were about to fuck up his life. You crawled into bed next to him, cuddling him. He turned around and placed his head between your breast, his arm wrapped around your lower back pulling you close. You took out your phone and took a couple of pictures. This bitch was gonna know “Fuck my man, I fuck your brother.”. You unblocked her number to send her a little treat. “When Satoru comes home tomorrow tell him I had a wonderful time. (3 attachments sent).”.

You turned off your phone and cuddled the sleeping boy, kissing his forehead and cheeks. “Mm, she's gonna fuck you up when you get home.” You whispered in his ear. His phone was soon blowing up, From his mom and sister. “I don't care, you don't know how long I've been waiting to fuck you.” He muttered under his breath. You laughed, He wasn’t going anywhere. Not just yet.

#gojo x y/n #gojo saturo #jjk gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #jjk satoru #satoru smut #jjk smut #jjk x you #kinktober

[pimosworld]

The story of us chapter 5

Triple frontier boys x f!reader

Summary- Set before you and the boys are officially together and how you came to be.

Chapter summary- Frankie takes you flying and your relationship to new heights.

CW- 18+,MDNI, to avoid spoilers I will be posting a link for warnings. Link

WK-6k

Notes- See story Masterlist for full chapter notes. This chapter was so fun to write, my first time writing a solo Frankie. He starts off shy but quickly gains his confidence.

Not beta read

[Series Masterlist] [Main Masterlist]

Chapter V Flying without Falling

————————————

11:54 pm

  Frankie can’t sleep as he lies awake staring at the ceiling fan. Every creak and noise the house makes has him on edge. He shouldn’t care this much but it’s starting to get under his skin and root itself deep somewhere he dare not explore. Before he can fully run away with his intrusive thoughts he hears the front door open and close. He breathes a sigh of relief knowing Benny actually came home after your date. 

  Maybe Santi was right,he shouldn’t be this jealous of his best friends going on a date. But jealousy doesn’t seem like the right word either, he wants to be included, he couldn’t possibly go on as a spectator if you decided to have a relationship. It’s entirely too late for all these thoughts and he’s getting way ahead of himself.

  He would call you normally when his thoughts ran wild. Why would now be any different? The only difference now is that he knows you’ll pick up. Over the last several months that certainly wasn’t the case. Before he can second guess himself he picks up his phone and calls you. 

  ****

You’re seated on your couch staring at the blank screen of the tv replaying the night in your head. You really should go wash your face and get some sleep but you can’t stop thinking about that kiss. You can’t stop thinking about everything he did for you. The feeling was so alien being treated as if you were a Disney princess. Ben was always sweet but this was a side of him you’ve never seen. You could definitely get used to it. 

  Incoming call Francisco

  “Hey Frankie, is everything okay?” Your voice is laced with concern at this late hour he’s calling.

  “Ugh…ya I’m sorry I called so late.” I just wanted to hear your voice. “I just needed to talk to you about something.”

  “Okay.” At midnight? You wait patiently for his response. 

  “So how was your date?” Jesus Francisco you just couldn’t help yourself. He thinks you're silent for a little too long, maybe he can just hang up and pretend this never happened.

  “It was really nice actually, but is that why you called?” You don’t want to give too many details, it just seems odd to talk about with him right now. 

  “No…I guess I should just spit it out. I got my license back and I start in a few days but I’m nervous.” He has to hold the phone away from his ear before he goes deaf at your excited squeal. 

  “Frankie, that's amazing, how come you didn’t tell us yesterday?” You can hear indistinct rustling on the other end. 

  “I didn’t think it was appropriate with everything going on…last night didn’t exactly scream tell everyone your good news.”

  “That’s sweet of you but I would’ve genuinely been excited with all the drama that went on. Life doesn’t revolve around me and my shitty dating life.” It kind of pains you that he put off such a happy announcement to not take attention off you. You know how hard he’s been working to get his license back and this means everything to him. Losing his license was like stripping his identity from him.

  “Listen hermosa, I know it’s last minute but I remember you saying you have tomorrow off…would you be willing to be my first passenger. I don’t want to be rusty in front of the clients on my first day.” He knows you know he’s full of shit. He is the most competent pilot and there’s no way he’s rusty. You’ve seen him in the deadliest situations somehow be cool, calm and collected. 

  “Of course Frankie, I would love to.” You’re certain he doesn’t need any practice but you decide to play along, it’s adorable when he’s nervous. 

  “Meet me at our house around noon and I’ll drive us to the site.” 

  “That sounds like a plan…you should get some sleep if you’re gonna be flying us safely tomorrow.” A little teasing goes a long way with him and you just can’t help yourself. 

  “Very funny, I’ll see you tomorrow Honey good night.” 

  “Goodnight Francisco.” 

  Sleep would not come easily for either of you that night. 

  ****

  Frankie’s not sure how much sleep he got last night, tossing and turning thinking about you. Trying not to think about how his life ended up the way it did. It was hard not to be in his head about his setbacks and inadequacies. He’s a grown man living with his two best friends. He should be able to afford a place on his own and be more independent, but he managed to fuck that up with this coke charge and losing his license.

  He really needed to relax and not let his thoughts run away with him. It wouldn’t be any help today. 

  He rolls out of bed suddenly more aware of every ache and pain in his body, it’s hard to say when he noticed himself getting older. He’s been ready for some time to settle down but had all but given up on finding something worthwhile.

  He pads down the hallway already hearing  the clanking of dishes and the strong smell of coffee.

He enters the kitchen to see the two fit shirtless blondes, one more thing to be insecure about. 

   “Mornin’ Fish.” Will looks up at him from his seat at the table. Frankie gives him a half smile as he slides into the seat across from him. 

  “Rough night?” You could say that 

  “Ya, didn’t sleep much. I was up worried about today.” 

  “What’s happening today?” Benny joins at the table sliding a cup of coffee to him. He scrubs a hand behind his neck deciding what approach to take with the news. 

  “Well I’m flying today. I got my license back.” Will looks up from his phone wide eyed as Benny jumps up nearly knocking the table over.

  “Holy shit man that’s amazing, why didn’t you say anything?” 

  “I was afraid it might not happen so I wanted to wait…I found out Friday and ugh Saturday didn’t seem like the right time to mention it.” Ben and Will exchange glances, neither of them needing to say why.

  “So you start today,what’s your schedule like?” Will stands from the table to refill his coffee.

  “No…I start tomorrow. I’m taking Honey up today to practice.” Lies 

  “Bullshit.” Ben leans back in his chair crossing his arms as Will tries to contain his laughter. Frankie mimics Ben's posture as he stares him down. 

  “You and I both know you don’t need practice.I do have to admit though, a helicopter is a nice move.”

  Frankie relaxes a little at the teasing Ben gives him. The younger man is obviously not bothered by it, he almost seems happy for him. 

  “We’ll Benjamin we can’t all have rock hard abs, some of us have to pull out other means of flattery.” 

  “Well Fish I’m happy for you and I hope you enjoy your date.” There’s no tone of sarcasm or anything to suggest that he’s lying.

  Will stands there in awe and shock at the absurdity of it all. How could they possibly be this chill about dating the same woman let alone you?

  “Speaking of dates, how was yours?” He raises an eyebrow at him playfully. 

  “I know you’ve been dying to ask. It was great, we saw a movie and went to the diner for burgers and shakes and then I dropped her off at home.” He’s not sure if he should include the last part. The conversations have been going well so far. 

  “What a modern day romance and you even had her home by curfew.” Ben flips him off as he stands from the table. 

  “I was gonna let you off easy but since you want to tease, I did get a good night kiss.” Will grabs his chest in fake shock. 

  “Good for you bud.” Frankie pays him on the shoulder as he stands. He can’t help but grin thinking about what he heard when you were in the shower. A sudden burst of confidence flows through his veins. 

  “As much as I’d love to watch this sad pissing contest, we need to get to the gym Ben.” 

  “Alright coach.” He pulls Frankie into a hug before heading down the hallway. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He calls out from over his shoulder. 

  Will just rolls his eyes as Frankie retreats back to his room on the opposite end of the house. 

  Maybe this could work out after all. 

  ****

  Here you are again, tossing clothes about your room undecided on what to wear. This is supposed to be a casual day with Frankie and you can’t seem to get your head on straight. Let’s not add to the fact that you can’t be late. 

  It’s a beautiful sunny day in Florida so you decide to throw on some jean shorts, your army tank top and some black slip on vans. There’s no time to overthink this as you run out to the door to head to their house. You left yourself enough time to stop and grab something for Frankie, you were technically celebrating getting his license back and you wanted to surprise him.

  You pull up to the pristine suburban home they all share, you know Will had every attention to detail to keep the Miller family home in great condition. You have a slight panic when you see that Ben's truck is still in the driveway, you weren’t quite ready to confront what it is you were doing. To be honest you weren’t entirely sure if you knew yourself. 

  Frankie sees you pull up, he’s been pacing around the living room unable to relax. The excited nervous energy coursing through his veins at the thought of flying again and seeing you. 

  You can see Frankie leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed, he has a well fitted black shirt and blue jeans with his signature cap on. He’s just smiling at you as you make your way up the path to their house. 

  “I’m not that late am I?” You’re swinging the small gift bag back and forth on your finger as you hold it out to him. 

  “No but I saw you pull up and got excited.” He’s practically beaming at you. The happiest you’ve seen him in a long time. “I hope whatever’s in that bag is not for me.”

  “You’ll just have to open it and find out.” He grabs the bag from you slowly peeking inside, a medium size black box reveals some brand new aviator sunglasses. 

  “You didn’t have to do this.” You can hear the slight quiver in his voice and you’re so happy with your choice. 

  “I’m getting a free tour in the sky, it’s the least I could do.” He pulls you into a tight hug and you inhale his fresh woodsy scent, you recognize it as the body wash you bought him because you insisted he stop using the 3in1 crap that Ben used. 

  You’re standing in the doorway, neither of you wanting to break the hug, you lightly scratch your nails as you rub his back and a low growl emits from his chest on your cheek. 

  “We need to go before I change my mind.” He grabs your hand and places a kiss on your fingers before turning around to lock up. 

  Ben must not be home, thankfully you can deal with that later and just enjoy your afternoon with the old Frankie who seems to be making an appearance. 

  Frankie jogs ahead of you when you head towards his truck to open the door, he already has his sunglasses on and you curse under your breath a little at the sight. You’ve inadvertently made this day even harder for yourself now that you have to try not to ogle him, but the way his muscles flex in his shirt and the way his jeans are fitting you find your resolve breaking little by little. 

  You hop in the front seat and just before he closes the door he stops and stares at you. “I forgot to tell you how good you look today.” Fuck you’re not gonna make it. 

  The ride to the airfield is mostly spent in comfortable silence as you both trade glances at each other, it was so easy with him to just be. No expectations or insecurities. You often wondered how women didn’t realize what a catch he was, you’re glad in this moment no one has stuck around long enough to see what a massive failure it was to let this man go. 

  ****

  You were making it so hard for him to focus as you made your way to the chopper he was using for the day. The army tank top and short shorts doing nothing to hide your curves. 

  He could tell you were carrying yourself differently than the other day. A part of him was grateful for your date with Benny that seemed to bring some peace to your otherwise chaotic weekend. 

  A helicopter used to bring the sight of hell for the both of you, going on missions unsure if you would make it out alive, but now the way you turn and smile at him, practically bouncing with excited energy he thinks it may be heaven. 

  “We’ll see if I remember how to fly one of these.” You can almost see the faint wink behind his aviators as he holds the door open for you and you climb into the comfy leather seat. He buckles you in tugging on the straps to make sure they’re secure. He’s desperately trying to keep this as professional as possible but he sees the way you’re looking at him and he just wants to lean in and kiss you. He tears himself away closing the door behind him before he loses all form of concentration. 

  You wanted him too, and he almost did but you know he needs to focus. Even though he’s flown much larger aircrafts than this countless times, he still doesn’t want to jeopardize his second chance at life. And if you’re correct about your assumption there would be plenty of time for that. 

  “You know I have strapped myself in a few times.” He’s focused on the task at hand but you can see him smirking as he flips to switches and waits for the all clear to take off. 

  “I know you have hermosa but I’m supposed to be practicing so just pretend you’re a passenger. 

  What is it with these boys and pretending? You’ll play along since it worked out in your benefit the last time.

  He hands you a headset before doing a final once over and you can feel that familiar drop in your stomach as you lift up. The thrum of the blades all you can hear at the moment. He always made it look so easy and he’s all but confirmed how little practice he actually needed. 

  Something about finally being in the sky again has his confidence soaring. He can feel it in his bones, the man he used to be trying to make an appearance. He’s trying to focus but he can’t stop looking at the way you smile when you see something you like. He misses seeing you like this, happy to be in the air. Although he doesn’t miss the reasons why you used to be in a helicopter.

  You’re trying to take in the sights, but you can’t help but stare at Frankie. The way he’s controlling this massive machine with ease. You can see it in the way he relaxes. His shoulders seem less tense. That smile you loved so much has returned without the slight underlying sadness. It’s intoxicating seeing him like this.

  “I missed seeing you in that seat next to me.” He glances over in enough time to notice you smile to yourself.

  You fly for a while just taking in the sight below, this was a version of your city you’ve never seen before and it’s truly mesmerizing. It breaks your heart knowing what he had to go through to get back to this place. Everyone has dealt with their demons in their own way. His demons almost took the most important things in his life away from him. 

  He doesn’t think he’s been this happy flying, seeing your face light up when you spot something you recognize or the fact that you so willingly agreed to come with him and make this day as special as possible. 

  “You’re pretty good with your hands Mr. Morales.” He raises an eyebrow at you wondering if the altitude has gone to your head. He needs to be safely on the ground if you’re going to call him that again.

  “I’m a pretend passenger, remember.”

  “My real passenger is an 80 year old man, I hope he doesn’t comment on how good I am with my hands.” You snort into the headset before erupting into full blown laughter and there it is again, that laugh that would bring any man to his knees.

  “You mean to tell me you’ve never flirted with a passenger?” He glances at you nervously playing with your straps over your chest as you look out below.

  “There was one time.” 

  “Well I hope it ended well for you.” You can see you’re almost back to the airfield and your heart drops a little at the day coming to an end.

  Let’s hope it does end well for me. 

  ****

  “So,what are your plans for the rest of the day?” He didn’t want to assume as he awaits your answer, suddenly so focused on the road as you make your way back to their house. 

  “I don’t have anything planned, I wasn’t sure if you had things you needed to take care of for tomorrow?” He looks a little confused and you can’t help but laugh at the deep crease in his brow. 

  “You know your first day back at work.” 

  “Oh, everything is all squared away. Although I was hoping you might want to stay a little while, I can make us lunch.” He sounds a little timid again but when you grab his hand not placed on the steering wheel and kiss his palm all his worries are washed away. 

  “I would say these hands have done enough today but I would be stupid if I said no to anything you cook.” He has other plans for you and his hands but he needs to focus on one thing at a time first lunch. 

  He already had a full plan for lunch that would’ve turned into Will and Bennys dinner if you decided not to stay. The conversation flowed easy as you both enjoyed grilled shrimp tacos and homemade ceviche. You hadn’t spent this much time together in months, it seemed you had a lot to catch up on. 

  You both confided in each other, it was so easy to talk about life and issues without being judged. The more Mike pulled you away left a gaping hole in both of your lives. You couldn’t possibly go back to that again. 

  Frankie’s washing the dishes, your plates having been completely cleared and has to stop what he’s doing at the sound of your obscenely loud yawn. He can’t help but laugh at your wide eyed expression, you obviously just as surprised by it as he was. 

  “I’m sorry, I’m just so content after that meal and honestly I got no sleep last night.” He dries his hands and makes his way over to you seated at the kitchen island. A mischievous glint in his eye. 

  “I have a bizarre request and you can say no if you want to. Seeing as though we both got zero sleep last night, do you want to take a nap?”

  “Yes!” You groan internally at your enthusiastic response. 

  He had a surge of confidence at your response as he got impossibly closer, stepping between your legs as he rubbed his hands up and down your thighs in a soothing motion. He leans in and you close your eyes bracing yourself for a kiss when you suddenly feel his lips brush your ear. 

  “Bed or couch?” You’re not certain you can breathe with the way his voice drops to a low register. His hands are like fire on your exposed thighs so close to where you want him to touch you. 

  “Couch?” It comes out in a breathy whisper as you attempt to clear your throat. “I think the couch is safer.” 

  He hasn’t so much as moved an inch and with his close proximity you’re afraid he can hear your heart beating out of your chest. 

  “Couch it is, but I’m not sure if it’s safer.” He takes your hand and guides you off the stool and it feels like you’re floating as you make your way to the living room. He sits in the corner, defaulting to his favorite spot despite having a choice of anywhere. He practically pulls you down with him as you settle in facing him with your head resting on his extended arm. Many a movie night you’ve fallen asleep in this exact position, but this feels different. 

  He pulls the blanket off the back of the couch to cover you as sleep already threatens to claim you. The sound of his steady heartbeat and the smell that you could only describe as him lulling you to sleep. 

  He doesn’t even think you realize you’re rubbing his back as you muzzle deeper into his chest, the feeling so domestic it makes his chest hurt a little. It’s like a knot that’s formed over time trying to loosen itself the further into sleep he goes. He only remembers the smell of your shampoo and your slow breaths before exhaustion takes him under. 

  ****

  The house is quiet…so quiet that he knows Ben and Will definitely aren’t home yet. The sun is still up but casting the orange hue that tells him it’s late in the afternoon. He doesn’t want to move too much because you’re still sleeping so peacefully. He is aware however that you have moved in your sleep, draping your leg over him like he’s a human body pillow. 

  Perhaps it’s a wicked Pavlovian response that his body betrays him in the moment as you're pinned against him. He’s growing harder in his jeans and every attempt to move you only causes you to stir further, involuntarily grinding your hips into him in a steady slow motion. 

  You’re having that dream again but this time it feels so real, too real as you feel the hard press of Frankie’s cock against your core. This time when you wake it’s not like a bucket of cold water being thrown on you. It’s softer, more intentional. 

  “Honey….honey?” It’s a little disorienting, but you can still smell him and see the light coming through the windows. You must not have slept for very long. You can feel his thumb tracing lines across your cheek and slowly register him saying your name. The sensation you were feeling in your dream hasn’t dissipated and you don’t dare look down as your haze begins to lift. 

  “I think you were having a dream.” His sleepy voice barely above a whisper. “You kept saying my name.” It seems you’re both in a predicament, him more so than you since he’s not actually in your head and you can feel evidently what’s pressed against you. 

  You hope maybe a change in subject will make him drop it or at the very least get the hint. It didn’t seem like the appropriate time to tell him that you can’t stop having sex dreams about your best friends. 

  “You know…you didn’t seem like you needed any practice today.” You shift on the couch to look up at him.

  “Maybe I told a little white lie.” He’s staring at you, a question hanging in the air of do you want this? He hasn’t moved his hand from your face as he slowly tilts it up further and leans in for a tender kiss. He’s been waiting all day, resisting the urge to kiss you the moment he opened his gift. 

  He’s waiting for you to pull away or say you don’t want this but that moment never comes as the soft kiss turns into a fight to get impossibly closer. His patience wore thin at the way you were saying his name in your sleep. Your hands are in his hair as he deepens this kiss, both of you trading moans in between breathing. He grips the thigh that’s slung over his hip as he pins you beneath him, the heavy comfortable weight of him grinding you into the couch. 

  You hate your brain for making you aware of your dry humping session being in the shared residence of the man you were also dating?

  “Wait…wait, I have a confession.” He stops suddenly hoping he hadn’t totally fucked this up by going to far. The moment feels like an eternity as he lets you catch your breath. 

  “I kissed Benny.” You’re bracing yourself for the moment he rolls off you and asks you to leave but he drops his head to your shoulder as he chuckles in your ear. 

  “Well just consider it even, since I’ve kissed Benny too.” Oh now he wants to make jokes. 

  “Yes I’m aware but it wasn’t less than 24 hours ago.” He raises an eyebrow at you and you silently curse yourself for assuming. “Unless it was…”

  “I’m just kidding, I had to mess with you a little.” You swat his chest playfully and breathe a sigh of relief. “Let’s just say Benny and I have come to a friendly agreement. 

  You’re not entirely sure what that means but you couldn’t care less as long as they know what’s going on even if you didn’t. 

  You try to pull him towards you again but he braces his right arm beside your head to stay upright, his left hand not having left your thigh throughout the interaction. 

  “I suppose if we’re being honest…I have a confession.” His tongue peeks out on his bottom lip as he mulls over how to approach, he has no idea how tempting it looks. 

  “I was going to wake you up yesterday but you were already in the shower.” Your throat is suddenly dry and your shoulders tense. “ I thought you were crying so I hesitated and then…I heard you say my name.” 

  There was no playing this off, not like your dream where he knew you were sleeping. This was perhaps the most mortified you’ve ever been. You wish you were anywhere but pinned under his literal and figurative gaze. 

  “I can explain.” No you can’t 

  “Tell me.” You try to move out from underneath him but he doesn’t budge. 

  “Frankie this isn’t fair.” 

  “No hermosa, you know what’s not fair.” His hand is slowly making its way up your thigh and your breathing is ragged. 

  “You had to take care of yourself when the hands you wanted to touch you were just on the other side of the door.” You don’t know when you lost control of the situation but here you are, stuck under him. He’s waiting for you to tell him to stop but your body has other plans and your lips won’t move.

  “Now tell me.” It’s not a question and this side of him has you faltering. 

  “Tell you what?” He leans down to kiss your lips but pulls away just as fast. 

  “What you were doing when you said my name.” He can’t be serious

  He’s searching your eyes for any sign you want this to stop but all he finds are your lust blown pupils. He decides upon seeing your excitement to try a different approach. 

  “Show me.” He waits to see if he made the right choice and you slowly move your hand from around his neck. No one has ever made you this nervous and excited at the same time. His confidence awakened something in you that you didn’t know existed. You slowly start to unbutton your shorts, never breaking eye contact. You can see his chest rising and falling, his resolve breaking a little spurring you on. 

  You dip your hand under the waistband of your lace panties, thanking yourself for being a little too optimistic about where the afternoon might lead. His eyes trail down your front as he battles with watching your face and watching where your hand has disappeared. He shifts to the side to give you room as you  slowly circle your clit with your middle finger. A small whimper escapes your lips and any embarrassment has been replaced with chasing this high. 

  You drag your finger through your slit as you dip a finger in trying to reach that spot at this awkward angle, you whine in frustration because your fingers aren’t enough with the way he’s been subtly working you up all afternoon. 

  He grabs your wrist and gently pulls your hand out of your shorts, you're wrapped in his every movement as he brings your fingers to his mouth to lick and suck every last drop from them. 

  “Let me show you.” His hands seem so much larger than yours as they make their way down your breast and across your abdomen, his trail painstakingly slow but you wouldn’t dare rush this moment. 

  He dips his hand into your shorts, dragging his fingers across your soft lace panties. “Frankie please…” You're hanging on by a thread and you need him to stop teasing you. 

  “You’re so sensitive, I’ve barely touched you.” You’re having deja because he’s said that before…or was that your dream. He dips one finger into your entrance as you arch your back. It’s too much and not enough as if he senses your frustration he plunges a second finger in slowly pumping in and out. 

  You drop your head onto the pillow as you softly moan his name. You can feel his cock grinding into your hip as he picks up the pace. He swallows your moans with his lips on yours. His name has never sounded sweeter than it does now as you chant his name. You’re ratcheted too tight as you feel the coil build, his fingers press down on the soft bundle of nerves and your toes curl in a blinding orgasm. You’re not sure when you gripped his hair like a lifeline as you slowly untangle your fingers while you come down from your high. 

  “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way you said my name.” He’s placing soft kisses on your neck as he removes his hand, you’re suddenly feeling a little bold as you can feel how patient he was being. You palm his bulge through his jeans and he bucks his hip, groaning your name. 

  The sound of car doors slamming have you both looking at each other wide eyed. He grabs your hand and places it around his waist. “I need you to pretend to be asleep.” You open your mouth to speak but he shushes you with a kiss as he flings the blanket back over you both. Your pants are still unbuckled and he’s still very hard but right now as the keys jingle in the door you figure you can deal with it later. 

  The front door opens and you bury your face into his chest to hide your laughter at having to pretend once again. Ben’s yelling about something per usual as you hear Will shush him. 

  “Awww they look so peaceful.” You can feel Frankie squeeze your hip and it’s taking everything to calm your breathing. His chest is rising and falling steadily as he squeaks out a fake snore. He may seem peaceful but you can feel his rapid heartbeat against your cheek. 

  You hear footsteps getting further away and voices trailing as they make their way to the kitchen. Frankie can hear the fridge open and close and the sound of the water in the sink running. 

  “Can you button your shorts without moving too much?” He whispers into your temple. You nod your head as you slowly move your hand down to button them again, you try your best to avoid his problem that seems to be less obvious. When you’re finally decent you sit up peeking over the back of the couch. You signal for him to sit up and he hears footsteps approaching. He raises his arms above his head dramatically, stretching as you do your best-I just woke up eyes. It’s all ridiculously hilarious 

  “Good evening sleepyheads.” Ben plops down next to you on the couch and you sit up fully now in the middle of both men. 

  “Do you ugh…want some water?” Frankie’s standing to stretch now, his little belly exposed as his shirt lifts and you notice he’s still got a slight bulge but nothing that couldn’t be explained by how close you were sleeping. 

  “Yes please.” Your voice is a little hoarse from your nap or moaning Frankie’s name for too long. 

  He leaves you two on the couch and heads to the kitchen as Benny pulls you into his side and places a kiss on your temple. This has to be a record for times getting deja vu in one day. 

  “How was your date?” So they must’ve come to an agreement like Frankie said because he just called it a date without any malice in his tone. Just genuine curiosity and care. 

  “It was great actually.” Frankie returns with your water and sits back down next to you on the opposite side. He doesn’t seem bothered at all by you cuddling up with Ben and it’s bizarre territory you’re wading into. 

  “Well I hope you showed our girl a good time.” You’re sputtering your water as Frankie hides his amused face behind his hand. Ben is patting your back as Will enters the living room with beers in hand. 

  “Are you okay?” He hands the beers around as he tries to offer you one but you wave him off. 

  “I’m fine…but I really should be going. I have work early tomorrow and I really should get some sleep.” You all stand from the couch unsure of how to say goodbye. 

  Frankie pulls you into a hug and places a kiss on your forehead. “At least you got a nap today.” He winks at you and you pinch his side knowing he can’t make a sound. 

  “Don’t hog her, she was with you all day.” Ben picks you up as you yelp, he couldn’t resist that sound. He carefully sets you down and leans in to kiss your cheek. 

  You turn to see Will in the loveseat sipping his beer with an amused smirk on his face. “I swear to god Will.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender as both men are snickering beside you. 

  “I didn’t say anything sweetheart.” You make your way towards the door to grab your bag off the hook and you can feel all eyes on you. “ I’ll see you Friday to fix that hole in your wall.” 

  “Will…”

  “Don’t argue with him, it'll only make your life harder.” Ben knows his brother all too well so you decide to take his advice and drop it. 

  “Fine, I’ll call you later.”

  “Okay.” They all say in unison and erupt in laughter. 

  As you close the door behind you still hearing the faint sounds of your boys you realize how completely and utterly fucked you truly are.

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Comments and reblogs are much appreciated  

@luciferiorbxtch @alwaysdjarin @meveispunk @casa-boiardi @evyiione @littlenosoul @quijana5702 @shesa-riott @the-fox-den @saturn-rings-writes @romanarose @spngingerbread21 @spookyxsam @summer-may @imonmykneessir

Tagged a few extra who might be interested.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales smut #triple frontier #triple frontier x fem reader #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier boys x reader #triple frontier x you #triple frontier poly #triple frontier smut #will miller x female reader #benny miller x female reader #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier x ooc #too many hashtags #pimowrites #FishBen #tf boys x reader #santiago x reader

[mykoreanlove]

oopsie daisy 🌼

The annoying sound of Felix’ alarm was disturbing the silence of the late afternoon. With eyes closed he searched for his phone and shut it off. A deep groan escaped his lips, followed by a sharp pain in his head.

“Why did I drink that much”, he scolded himself.

Yesterday’s party got out of hand quickly – what should have been an intimate gathering with some close friends at Changbin’s turned into a massive bash. Felix tried to remember last night’s events, but his mind went blank for the most part. Anxiety formed in his stomach as he did not like to feel helpless, out of control.

He heard a knock on his door and flinched in pain.

“Can I come in?”

It was Chan.

“Yeah, sure”, Felix answered in a deep, raspy voice.  

His friend opened the door with a big glass of water and headache pills in hand, already knowing that Felix would need them.

“Here”, he gave them to his younger friend.

Felix had trouble sitting up as his head felt dizzy and his stomach seemed nauseous. He gathered his remaining strength and gulped down the water, hoping to feel better quickly.

“Do you have any memories of last night?”, Chan asked cautiously.

Instantly, the anxiety in his stomach grew bigger. Felix shook his head, too nervous to ask what he had done.

“Do you wanna know?”, Chan offered politely.

Felix took a deep sigh, trying to calm his nerves. “I don’t know if I want to?”

“Oh, trust me. You do want to know.”, Chan chuckled amused.

“Okay”, Felix sighed in defeat and curled into a ball while hugging his plushie. “Tell me what happened last night.”

“…yeah, and then you vanished into the kitchen and played UNO for hours. Changbin told me that you downed a shot each time you lost, so apparently you drank a lot. And after that you walked around whispering “Wakey wakey” into the girls’ ears, going as low as you can. I saw you run around laughing manically and trying to escape many girls that night. Oh, and after your little striptease dance break you spilled your drink all over your chest and ran into the bathroom.”, Chan re-collected.

Felix was embarrassed but so far, he didn’t do anything horrendous.

“And after that you came running to me, all nervous and agitated and you muttered something about kissing y/n.”

Felix shot up alarmed, instantly regretting it though as his head was still pounding heavily.

“I did what??”

“Yeah”, Chan confirmed in a reserved manner.

“I kissed y/n? Lee Know’s girl y/n???”

Panic arose in his body as he could not believe it.

Did I really do that? Why? What was I thinking?

“Don’t you remember anything at all?”

Felix shook his head ashamed.

“No, not a single thing.”

Chan sighed. “Well, do you like her?”

Felix’ eyes widened in surprise.

Like her? Do I like y/n? Is this what this is?

“I mean I like her as a friend. As a person. But she is Lee Know’s girlfriend, and I never saw her another way. Shit, Chan, I fucked up. How do I tell him?”

Felix already envisioned the worst. It was bad enough that he had kissed his friend’s girlfriend, but it was even worse since it was Lee Know. The unforgiving, dangerous menace Lee Know.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, Lix.”

Felix got up, entirely ignoring the condition of his body.

“What? Does he already know? Did he see us?”

Felix was on the verge of breaking down – he’d either cry or vomit or do both, his nerves were getting the best of him.

“Nah, but you kind of kissed him, too.”

“What????” Felix' deep voice turned into a high-pitched one, each shock making it even more shrill.

Chan laughed amused.

“Yeah, that was kind of the highlight of last night. You came up to me and explained that you kissed y/n and you felt so bad about it and didn’t want Lee Know to be mad at you, so you walked up to him and kissed him as well. In a room full of people might I add.”

Felix clasped his hands over his head, bewildered and confused.

“You’re fucking with me, right? Is that some cruel joke? Please tell me Seungmin is standing behind the curtains and filming this. Please, Chan.”

Chan ruffled through Felix’ blonde hair and flashed him a warm smile.

“It’s real, Lix. Why don’t you check your phone if you don’t believe me?”

Chan got up and left, leaving Felix alone with his thoughts.

My phone..

Felix searched his bed, shuffling aside pillows and plushies until he finally found his phone and turned it on again. He received a lot of messages after leaving the party but there were only two that caught his attention.

What the fuck did I do?

#mykoreanlove #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids au #skz x reader #stray kids x you #skz fluff #skz fanfic #skz felix #skz yongbok #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #felix stray kids #felix yongbok #lee felix x y/n #lee felix x you #lee felix x reader #felix fluff #felix x reader #felix smut #skz smut #skz felix x reader #lee felix #yongbok x reader #yongbok fluff #yongbokie #stray kids yongbok #lee yongbok

[neverinadream]

W E ' V E B E E N K E E P I N G A S E C R E T

Summary: Your first anniversary as a married couple isn't the only thing you'll be celebrating this year.

Pairing: Rúben Dias x Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes

Warnings: fluff, bestie!kyle, talks of pregnancy, not proofread

Notes: i feel like it has been so long since i posted something for this man!! did you like it? feedback is greatly appreciated!

youraccount

liked by rubendias, sasha__rebecca and others

youraccount: my grandma once told me to fall in love with the boy who holds your hand when you're nervous, who walks you to your door at the end of the night, but, more importantly, fall in love with the boy who pictures a future with you in it. so that's what i did. and one year ago today, i married him. i'll never get tired of telling you how much i love you because i'm one hundred per cent sure that my love for you will never run out.

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📍youraccount: 📸: @/sasha__rebecca

rubendias: i love you so much ❤

youraccount: not as much as i love you ❤️

sasha__rebecca: have i ever told you that you're my favourite couple?

youraccount: maybe...but you can say it again if you like

sasha__rebecca: 📣 you're my favourite couple!!

youraccount: 🤍

kylewalker2: oooh i love you so much rúben 🤮

youraccount: i see we're still upset 🤭

kylewalker2: me? upset? never!

youraccount: okay pinocchio 🤥

rubendias

liked by johnstonesofficial, youraccount and others

rubendias: why do i love you? i love you because you can bring me out of my sadness and make me the happiest man alive with only just a smile. i love you because you make me want to be a better man. i love you because of how you make me feel even when you're not around.

and i love the little things, too, like how your hand fits perfectly in mine, how nice and sweet your voice sounds, even when you're butchering the portugese language, how soft your lips are... when i'm able to make you laugh, i feel accomplished because i know that i am the reason you smiled.

you are my best friend, you are my partner in crime, but, more importantly, you are my soul mate. here's to celebrating more anniversaries with the one i love ❤️

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youraccount: great, now i'm crying again

rubendias: and i'll be there to dry every tear, meu amor

kevindebruyne: happy anniversary! 😊

jackgrealish: who knew rúben was such a sappy fucker

sasha__rebecca: it's not sappy, it's romantic

rubendias: you should try it sometime jack 🤭

jackgrealish: i can be romantic!

kylewalker2: OBJECTION!

johnstonesofficial: mate you're a year too late

kylewalker2: i will get my best friend back

youraccount: i literally saw you yesterday 🙄

youraccount

liked by yourclientsaccount, yourmumsaccount and others

youraccount: today i was privileged enough to be involved in one of the coolest maternity shoots to date!!

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📍youraccount: the rest of the shoot can be found on my professional account @/yourphotographyaccount

yourmumsaccount: when are you going to be in a maternity shoot?

youraccount: mum...

yourmumsaccount: i want grandkids

youraccount: you've got grandkids

yourmumsaccount: and with all the sex you and @/rubendias had over the summer, i'm surprised i don't have any off you two

youraccount: MUM!

yourmumsaccount: what? you know the walls are very thin

rubendias: good afternoon mrs y/l/n

yourmumsaccount: are you firing blanks?

rubendias: blanks?

youraccount: mum get out of here before i block you

yourmumsaccount: you would block your own mother? hmm. how nice

rubendias

liked by mancity, youraccount and others

rubendias: exciting times are coming

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mancity: 👀👀👀

youraccount: 🫣🤭

kylewalker2: got something to tell your best friend?

sasha__rebecca: yes do you have something to tell me?

kylewalker2: i think you'll find i'm her best friend

sasha__rebecca: sure kyle

johnstonesofficial: what's this about then?

rubendias: 🤐

kevindebruyne: it's rude to keep secrets

jackgrealish: come on spill the beans

youraccount added to their story

seen by kylewalker2, kevindebruyne and others

rubendias

liked by yourbrothersaccount, jackgrealish and others

rubendias: this one has been keeping us thoroughly entertained all weekend

view all comments

youraccount: babies are hard work 😴

rubendias: you were a natural with her

youraccount: yeah...when she would actually pay attention to me

rubendias: i can't help it if everyone loves me 😅

yourbrothersaccount: just think about how tired you'll be juggling two

rubendias: please reread that comment before your sister has your head off 😅

yourbrothersaccount: oh shit 😳

jackgrealish: and you thought i'd be the one to spill your secret

youraccount: ⭐️

jackgrealish: what's that for?

rubendias: it's a gold star for doing so well

youraccount

liked by rubendias, kylewalker2 and others

youraccount: since the cat's now out of the bag.....can't wait to meet my little boys 👶🏻👶🏻

view all comments

rubendias: my gorgeous mamma 😍

youraccount: i'll finally get to sleep with a dilf 🥵

sasha__rebecca: so happy i could scream 😁

yourinstagram: wanna plan the baby shower?

kylewalker2: uh i think the fuck not! that's my job!

sasha__rebecca: i think you'll find out as her best friend that's my job

youraccount: you can both plan it together

kylewalker2: also...this is how i find out?

yourinstagram: oh, right, it's not like i didn't tell you first 🙄

kylewalker2: i know 🤭 i just wanted everyone to know that i knew first

erling.haaland: 👶🏻

rubendias: more like 👶🏻👶🏻

...

F O O T B A L L E R T A G L I S T

@shanoontje @maseandkepa @theblxefox @blueathens  @ofxinnocence @1-800-benji-chilwell @mrschilly @geek-and-proud @in-my-body-bag @laurasstufff1 @mountchilly @spicysainz @greykitkepa @thoseboysinblue @breakablehcaven

#ruben dias #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias imagines #ruben dias insta au #ruben dias one shot #ruben dias blurb #ruben dias fluff #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias fic #ruben dias x reader

[archiveikemen]

Ellis Twilight 1st Birthday Campaign: Story (2023)

His POV

I do not own any of the Ikemen Series content being uploaded on this blog, everything belongs to CYBIRD. Please support them by playing their games and buying stories. Not 100% accurate, expect mistakes.

read this before interacting with my posts

I still remember how “we” used to celebrate “our” birthday.

One year, while waiting for the real birthday cake Mother was baking at home, we raced each other up a hill in the twilight.

We pretended that the setting sun was our birthday cake, and blew out the “candles” on a count of three.

(That was the best moment, right?)

(— Nah.)

(The day it became “forever” was the happiest day.)

(— Huh?)

I snapped back to reality. I had dozed off while sitting on the couch, likely because I worked till late into the night yesterday.

(It’s been a long time since I last dreamt about those days.)

(... Oh, right. Today is our—)

Jude: Ellis.

Ellis: Jude and… Kate?

Kate: E-Ellis…!?

Jude: This girl has something for you.

Kate: J-Jude, I told you to keep it a secret from Ellis…!

Jude: Why should I be considerate of your feelings? If you have questions for him, ask the man himself.

Jude left the common room, leaving only Kate behind.

(I wonder if she got tricked by Jude to ask me something in secret.)

Ellis: You were looking for me?

When I tilted my head in question, Kate seemed to have given up and frowned.

She looked like a dejected little puppy. Cute.

Kate: I heard that… it’s your birthday today.

Kate: I wanted to find out from Jude what you liked, so that I can prepare a surprise for you.

Ellis: Why didn’t you ask me directly?

Kate: … Because I knew you would say that you like anything that makes me happy.

Kate: You’re always caring a lot about whether I’m happy, so today… I want you to be happy.

Ellis: You’re very kind, Kate.

To me, loving someone as a person doesn't necessarily require knowing them for a long time or having a very grand reason to.

That’s why making someone happy is as natural to me as breathing.

Ellis: Will it make you happy if I spend the whole day only doing things that make me happy?

Kate: Hmm… I guess so.

Ellis: Then, we’ll search for my happiness together today?

Kate: Huh…?

Ellis: I want to search for my happiness together with you.

Kate: … Will you be okay with that? I mean, spending your birthday with just me.

Ellis: Mm, I’m okay with it. … How about you, Kate?

I wanted to make sure that my choice would benefit her.

(Ah… that’s good. She seems okay with it.)

Seeing the slight blush in Kate’s cheeks and sensing that she was happy, it made me feel relieved.

Roger: Why are you two being all lovey dovey in the middle of the day?

Kate: Lovey dovey…!?

We didn’t notice until now that Roger was leaning against the doorframe of the common room. When our eyes met, he smiled.

Roger: Happy birthday.

Ellis: Thank you, Roger. Did you specially make your way here just to say that?

Roger: Nope? I just happened to be passing by and saw you guys.

Roger: I didn't prepare any presents for you, so I’ll buy you a nice drink next time.

Roger: Did you receive a proper present from Jude?

Ellis: He gave me a blank cheque as usual.

Kate: Does he always do that…?

Roger: Always. Anyway, you’re going out on a birthday date?

Ellis: Yeah, with Kate.

Roger: That guy Victor, he’s so excited about whipping up a feast with the castle chef tonight…

Roger: But if you two don’t come back, I’ll be sure to enjoy your share.

Roger waved and left with a cheeky smile.

Kate: W-We’ll come back of course…!

Ellis: Is that so?

Kate: Huh!?

(... Fufu, she’s so cute.)

Kate: … Please don’t tease me.

Ellis: I’m not teasing you.

Kate: … Let’s make sure we come back to the castle.

I thought Kate liked me a little bit too, as a person.

(If “this” is the kind of relationship that will make her happy.)

(I really wish she doesn’t have to go back.)

Kate: Before we head out, please promise me one thing.

Ellis: Promise you?

Kate: I want you to promise me that you’ll let me know when you dislike something.

Kate: You have the tendency to say that you’re happy even when you’re not, just because you want to make me happy.

Kate: This promise should NOT be broken today.

Seeing her try her very best to make me happy naturally brought a smile to my face.

Ellis: Mm. Got it, I promise you that.

…

Kate: This gelato place was my source of moral support when I was working as a postwoman.

Ellis: The gelato here must be very good, then. Which flavour is your favourite, Kate?

Kate: Lemon! I remember you saying that you like raspberry jam, so…

Kate: You might like this mixed berry flavoured gelato.

We chatted about all sorts of little things while strolling through the city of London.

Ellis: Mm… this is delicious.

Kate: … Happy?

Ellis: Happy. Fufu, it feels different than usual.

Whenever I said that I was “happy”, Kate would stare at me in such a way that she looked like she was trying to see if I was telling the truth. I found that rather amusing.

Kate: Is there anything you want as a birthday present?

Ellis: … I want a taste of your lemon flavoured gelato.

Kate: That’s not really what I meant…

Ellis: Let me think… I don’t have anything in particular that I want, but I do like things that smell nice.

Kate: Things that smell nice?

Ellis: Yeah. Like you.

Kate: … I’m not letting you taste my lemon flavoured gelato if you keep teasing me.

At the same time, she held out her gelato for me to have a taste, and so I licked a little of it.

Kate looked adorable when she was pretending to be angry, because she couldn't conceal her happiness.

In the end, we continued to walk around London. When Big Ben’s arms showed that it was 4 o’clock, Kate told me to stay put and hurried off somewhere.

(Is she going to meet an acquaintance?)

(... Ah, should I be monitoring her in times like this as a member of Crown?)

(Oh well, it’ll be fine.)

I sat on a railing at the riverside while waiting for Kate to return. Just then, a woman came and sat next to me.

Curly Hair Woman: Oh… pardon me, am I bothering you?

Ellis: Nope, you’re not.

Curly Hair Woman: I’m feeling dizzy… can I rest here for a little while?

Ellis: The hospital is nearby, do you need me to guide you to it?

Curly Hair Woman: Are you sure about that?

The woman’s face suddenly lit up upon hearing my casual offer, and she placed her palm on my leg.

(Ah...)

“If you want me to be that happy— give those to me.”

“If you want me to be happy… give them to me. Give me your legs!!”

“... In the end, it turns out that your own wants matter most.”

— I can no longer go anywhere I want. Are you satisfied now?

(...)

Unpleasant memories flashed into my mind, and a feeling of uneasiness rose from the pit of my stomach.

When I tried to swallow it back down…

Kate: Sorry for the wait! … Oh? Who is this?

(Kate…)

Kate looked at me with a concerned look while hiding something behind her back.

Ellis: … She said that she’s feeling dizzy. I was about to guide her to the hospital.

Kate: Are you alright?

Curly Hair Woman: … What the, is she your girlfriend?

Kate: Huh?

Curly Hair Woman: I don’t feel dizzy anymore. See you.

The woman suddenly stood up and walked away.

Kate: … Seems like she was lying to you…

Ellis: It does seem that way. Good thing she’s not feeling dizzy.

Kate: … Looking at you, you don’t look very well.

Kate gently placed her palm to my forehead.

Kate: You’re not running a fever, though…

(I promised to “voice out my dislikes”.)

Ellis: A moment ago, when she touched my leg… I recalled some unpleasant things.

Ellis: I don’t like being touched on my legs.

Kate: … I see.

Without probing any further, Kate simply nodded her head in response and respected my feelings.

Kate: Thank you for telling me.

Ellis: …? Why are you thanking me?

Kate: … You’re always concerned about the feelings of other people, and doing things for them.

Kate: But there's no such thing as a person who doesn't have their own desires.

Kate: You must be sacrificing a lot of your own "wants", right, Ellis?

(My… "wants"?)

The flashback from just now started clawing at the inside of my heart again.

Kate: Therefore, I’m not going to let you have any more unpleasant experiences for the rest of today.

Kate: Thanks to what you've just told me, I know what to avoid letting you go through.

Kate: Happy birthday. This is for you.

Ellis: This is…

She held out the bouquet of pale purple roses she had hidden behind her back.

The gentle breeze brought out its calming and sweet fragrance that suited the sunset.

Ellis: … Smells nice.

Ellis: … Mm, I’m very happy.

(But, therefore… I have to give this to you.)

Ellis: Can you close your eyes for a moment?

Kate: Huh? Okay…

Kate hesitantly covered her eyes with her hands.

Kate: Can I open my eyes now?

Ellis: Just a little longer.

(You said that there’s no such thing as a person without desires.)

(But I feel that I don’t have the need for desires.)

Or else, the “love” I feel inside of me— will turn into something scary.

Ellis: … You can open your eyes now.

Kate: …!

I gave Kate a flower crown made from the roses she had given me earlier. She was puzzled as she alternated her gaze between me and the flower crown.

Kate: This was… a present for you.

Ellis: Yeah. It was mine, and so I wanted to use it to make you happy.

Kate had a troubled smile on her face as she held the flower crown close to her chest.

Kate: … Ellis, you’re… a rather hard to deal with person…

(Ah…)

My heart suddenly felt moved.

The light from the setting sun shone down onto Kate.

The colour of the sky was a beautiful gradient of orange and purple.

That colour was one that could only be seen in that brief moment between day and night.

(How I wish I could stop time right now.)

— That pure and simple desire was mine, and mine only.

Kate: The sun is setting already… time seemed to have flown past in the blink of an eye today.

Kate’s voice brought me back to reality.

Kate: We should return to the castle soon.

I thought that the look in her eyes was saying that she wanted to stay a little longer.

(But— is it just me?)

(l have to make sure… so that I know if I’m just seeing things.)

I took a deep breath and closed the distance between us.

Ellis: … Hey, Kate.

I leaned my body forward against the railing, cornering Kate.

Ellis: I don’t want to go back to the castle. … Can we not?

I pretended to be selfish, because I wanted to know her true feelings.

I had to pretend, in order to suppress the desire that had risen up inside me earlier.

Kate: W-We can’t. Everyone is waiting for us back at the castle.

Ellis: … But you don’t look like you want to go back.

The tips of Kate’s ears turned slightly red… that’s how I knew that what I thought I saw was real.

Ellis: Because of you, I’m very happy today.

Ellis: How about you, Kate? How happy do you feel today?

Ellis: To thank you for today, I want to make you the happiest you’ve ever been.

Kate: Ellis…

Ellis: What would you like? You can go shopping without having to worry about money, or I can take you to meet anyone you want to.

Kate: It’s your birthday today, Ellis… I don't need anything.

Ellis: If there’s anything I can do for you, I’ll do it. Be it kisses, hugs… or more than that.

Kate: Those things will only make you feel the happiest if done with someone you like in a very special way…

(Oh… I see.)

Ellis: Then I’ll just have to make you like me in that special way.

Kate: Huh…?

Ellis: I’ll be sure to do my best.

Kate’s eyes wavered.

Ellis: Some day, I’ll make you feel the happiest you’ve ever felt.

(Not for my sake, but for yours.)

(I’ll make all your wishes come true, so that you’ll be happy.)

Then came twilight, painting our surrounding scenery in the colours of night.

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #otome #ikevil birthday #ellis twilight

[toiletwipes]

oh, darling (make it go away) | c!wilbur

Give me these moments back Give them back to me Give me that little kiss Give me your hand

— "This Woman's Work" by Kate Bush

~2k words / I'm not sure what this is but it's the only thing I could write. Sorry for the shit quality [Winter comes and brings your depression. Wilbur, your roommate, your... something, is there to help.]

For the nth time, you’ve sat and stared at the wall instead of the monitor. It’s not easy anymore, it doesn’t feel like breathing… it just doesn’t feel. It’s not coming to you anymore. You know why, breathing out, you move from out of the desk chair and take the three steps from your desk to your bed. The blankets have a stale smell to them but you breathe it in all the more, your limbs full of lead and weighing you down to the mattress. You know why, it just doesn’t make it any easier.

You lost count of the days, the weeks— months you’ve spent like this. Everything is too much. Even something you loved doing, you couldn’t even muster the energy to turn the damn monitor on. It would send you to tears if you hadn’t already cried in the morning. Wait, you lift a hand to brush your cheek. Damn, guess you could still cry after all. After doing nothing but crying and staring at the wall for hours, all you can do is waste in bed and cry again.

The door swings open with a loud croak, “— sorry I’m late, I went to pick up dinner and then some fucker cut me off and it was a whole thing—” and it shuts as he continues to walk and talk aloud in the silent apartment. You let out a benign hum, blinking slowly. When did you last eat? Today… today was a waste and weirdly enough, you find you haven't had anything since the big lunch from yesterday. You should probably put something into your system. By the time you try to convince yourself to sit up, your roommate is already walking into your room. “Come on, food is on the table and the TV is on, it’s your favorite soap.”

You had barely turned onto your side and you could only blink up at him as he kicked his shoes off, sitting on your bed. His hair curls into his face as he peers down at you, one of his hands coming up and patting your blanketed side. “Bad day?” He asks, quiet and with that beautiful smile of his. You blink your teary eyes at him as you give him a sluggish nod.

“That’s alright, you can finish it out with a bang. Want a shower before you eat?” That raises the question when you last had a shower and when you can’t immediately find the answer, you frown. You nod. “Want help getting up?” You mumble an affirmative. His smile doesn’t diminish and he doesn’t scold you, all he does is move to his feet and pull your covers back, taking your left hand into his and gently pulling you to your feet.

“There we go, see, you’re nearly in the shower.” You huff, almost laughing as he drapes an arm around your shoulder and guides you to the shared bathroom. He lets you shower by yourself, saying nothing of how long you stand underneath the hot spray, only hands you your plate, and scoots over to his side of the couch.

Your soap is dramatic as it always is, something you can count on. And when it’s over, Wilbur has no problem taking your plate and washing it alongside his. The couch is comfortable enough to sit with your legs tucked close to your body, a blanket pulled from the top of the couch to cover you.

“Dishes are done, I threw out the trash last night, think that’s it, is there anything we need to do before bed?” You shake your head numbly, you can’t think of anything. (Can’t really think, why is your head so heavy, so empty, so useless?)

He doesn’t say anything for a second before the couch dips beside you and he’s pulling your legs into his lap, the two of you staring at the blank screen of the TV.

“I think I’m getting worse.” Your voice croaks after its first use in a while.

“Yeah?” He says, just as quietly as you did. You risk a glance at him but his stare is fixated straight ahead, his fingers picking at a stray string from the blanket.

“I’m going to fail this semester. I can’t even play any games. I’m just-” tears prick your eyes again, it’s been so difficult for no fucking reason. There’s nothing wrong at all. You decided on one class this semester so it would be easier, so you couldn’t fail something if it was the only thing you had to focus on. And then October came and went, November quickly followed and somehow you’re behind on weeks of homework and material. It takes you and Wilbur to understand your professor despite being the one you requested because of his teaching style.

Your games had previously helped you cope until it wasn’t about coping and more about having fun. Until that died out— scratch that, until your energy died out.

“Why can’t it be July again?” July had been the best you had ever felt, the sun beaming down your face and the wind tickling your sides between your shirt and skin, at the beach and on your balcony, in the streets in the middle of the night- this summer had been an absolute dream. So why now- why after such a good summer, the best one you had in a while, why can’t you be happier? Why can’t you just get up and do your work and be normal? Hold his hand again, smile his way? Why can’t you do things for him again? Why does he have to do everything for you every December?

He meets your eyes and you can see it there, he’s tired too. He needs rest too. You feel the guilt eat your insides, tearing down your rib-cage and you almost wail with the heartache. “I’m a terrible roommate.” You say and the tears drip down your cheek.

“You’re not.” The scoff is wet when it leaves your throat, and you have to look away, nearly choking on the air as you try to hold the sobs back. “What? You think I’m lying?” He asks, patting your knee and you look back at him. Looking at him. Seeing his own glossy eyes and thinking what a pair you must make right now. Crying, together.

“I think you’re full of shit if you genuinely think that.” It’s more bark than bite but you want it to hurt, you want him to leave you behind and live his life again. Why does he have to do everything for you just to get by, just to fail again and again.

“That’s not fair,” he starts, “to you or me. But I see what you’re doing, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“You should be out there,” it’s his turn scoffing at the words you say, “having fun, living your life, with your friends. It’s not fair to you.” He picks your legs off of his lap and he takes your hand, pulling you to your feet, even when you protest.

“I only ever went out when you did, you know that right?” You open your mouth to say something but he just shakes his head, guiding you by the shoulders back to your room. “And it’s not to say I don’t have fun when you’re not around, but I don’t think it’s worth going out and enjoying myself when I know you’re at home and miserable.”

“You shouldn’t have to take care of me because you feel guilty.”

“I don’t. I take care of you because you are single-handedly one of the most important people to me. I take care of you because I want to. I’m here because I want to be here.” By the time he’s finished talking, you’re sitting on your bed while he digs through your drawers. “Do you want the matching set?” He pulls out the one you bought, the set that matches his own pajamas right now. You sniffle, wiping your snot as you nod.

“Get changed, I’ll be there in a few, okay?” And he nudges you to the bathroom.

When you’ve managed to switch clothes, you can hear the distant ambience on your TV, and he comes into the bathroom, sets the timer as he pulls out the raspberry toothpaste. Five minutes later, when the paste has been spat out and the mouth wash gets everything else, and you’re sitting in your bed while he fusses about. Coming up with plans to save your credits and schedules and the likes while you thumb the fabric at the bottom of your sleep shirt.

“Can you-” you interrupt his thinking-out-loud process and catch his attention, “can you sleep here tonight?” As if you hadn’t asked the same thing of him yesterday or the day before. He doesn’t say anything mean. Only let a brief smile pass through his face before turning the brighter lights off while plugging in the lava lamp in the corner, just like how you liked it.

Once he’s settled next to you, the ache in your chest and head increase tenfold. The guilt builds again and like an oracle, his eyes blink open slowly and he reaches to hold your hand in his.

“Do you remember that day in July,” he says, wetting his lips before meeting your eyes again, “when you kissed me?” You nod.

“Would you be okay if I did it? If I kissed you?” His eyes search for something in yours, nervous for your response. Tears pool back in your eyes, falling past your nose and cheek and sinking into your pillowcase, you whisper a broken yes.

Your eyes flutter shut, squeezing them as you feel the bed shift under his weight, as he leans closer to you, and you can feel his breath fan across your mouth. You couldn’t breathe, it felt so unreal.. And when you couldn’t feel his breath or smell the faint raspberry from it, you wonder if you disgusted him until he brushed his lips against your cheek, just on the corner of your mouth.

Your eyes open meeting him, especially when he’s still so close to your face, “you missed back then, too.” That day, that beautiful, warm day that reminds you so much of the boy in front of you that it hurts. It was perfect that day. It felt like a dream. And despite it being so cold outside, it felt warm here too. And suddenly, it felt like July all over again. Like you could be normal again, like you could be happy.

He moves his face away, shifting until his arms are wrapped around your shoulders and waist, pulling you into his body closer and closer, as if you’d sink into him and all of your woes would become his to bear too. Legs entangle naturally and you can’t help the sob that wracks through you again.

“I know, I know.” He whispers, tightening his hold on you and letting you soak his shirt with your tears and snot. “I know.”

It won’t be easy for a long time, maybe not even until July has long since passed again, the future is unclear and your head and heart is heavy with ache and guilt and love.

But you won’t have to bear it alone. You never have to bear it alone again, not as long as he’s there. You can almost hear the promise in the way his hands squeeze at the fabric and skin they find, the way he sleeps easier in your bed, holding you.

You sink into his embrace now, letting the scent of his soap wash over you, the sounds of a gentle rain pattering on the ceiling from the television and the warmth of his skin… they lure you under the blanket of sleep.

And for the first time in a while, you’re back in July, staring at a boy you’ve lived and loved with, remembering the sun on your skin while you smiled at him, holding his hand.

It never seemed so close, before.

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x y/n #c: wilbur #c: wilbur soot #wilbur x reader #tw depression #tw depressing thoughts #this is very much self indulgent #idk #thought it would be nice if i had a pretty boy to hold me through my depression #i really hope this isn't romanticizing it #because i know that a pretty boy wouldn't fix me with true love's kiss #i just. idk #sdgdfjghslfjfhsd #gonna go to the bathroom now