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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

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Just Friends, Chapter One:

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ ONLY, mutual pining, age gap (joel is 56, reader is 34), angst??, masturbation (m))

wc: 2k

joel masterlist | series masterlist

Joel feels weak when he sees you.

That’s the best word for it. Weak. A complete lack of control—of power. Logic and reason are nothing but incoherent mumbles in the background every time you’re in the same room as him, even worse when you look into his eyes and speak his name.

He hadn’t felt this sort of tug towards someone in years, and the unfamiliar sensation of needing to simply see you at least once a day in order to function properly was beginning to consume him. He didn’t know what to do to rid himself of this infatuation, avoiding you was impossible and so was getting closer thanks to that 30-something year old patrol ranger you called your boyfriend.

He watched the two of you together as though it was his job. He watched the way you seemed to keep him at an arm’s length when the two of you were out together, always sandwiching yourself between your friends rather than beside the man you were supposed to love.

He couldn’t help but wonder what the two of you were like in private.

It couldn’t be a very passionate affair, that much he knew. Real passion wasn’t so easily concealed. It was consuming, drawing you like a magnet to your partner, burrowing beneath your skin, creating an itch to be near them—to be touching them. It couldn’t be an affair of passion.

Just now, he’s sat in his usual seat in the corner of the bar, his back pressing to the padded walls of the booth, his hand holding a crystal glass filled with whiskey, his brows drawn together, his eyes locked on the back of your head as you ordered a drink, your friend next to you. Joel wants to stand up, walk over, and offer to buy your drink right in front of him just to see the look on your face.

Would you tell him to fuck off? Or would you say yes?

The laugh you let out in response to something your boyfriend whispers into your ear stops Joel from finding out.

“God, I need a drink,” Ellie sighs as she emerges from nowhere, her backpack being shrugged onto the floor as she sits down across from Joel.

“Tough day learnin’ your ABC’s?” he quips, his tone still flat from the war jealousy was waging inside of his head.

“Ha-ha,” she replies, just as dry. She knocks her knuckles on the wooden table as she watches his eyes drift back to you, now seated at a table just five or so feet away from him—too close for his comfort. Downing his drink, he shifts his eyes back to Ellie in time to catch her chuckling at him.

“What?” he asks, tilting his head at her as though he were begging her not to read him as easily as she does.

“Nothing,” she shakes her head and laughs again before reaching over the table to swig the finger of whiskey left inside Joel’s glass.

“Hey,” he calls as he catches her mid sip, stealing the glass back. “They got rules about kids drinkin’, you know that. You itchin’ for another lecture from Maria about followin’ the rules?”

“No,” she replies. “It’s a bullshit rule anyway.”

“No, it ain’t,” he sighs as your laughter fills the room again, his chest panging causing him to physically wince. “I’m ready to go home. You comin’ or you stayin’?”

“Staying,” she says, grabbing her backpack and setting it on the table. “Have homework to finish and your sad country music being blared through the house isn’t going to help keep me focused.”

“Don’t disrespect my sad country music,” he warned playfully as he stood up with a grunt, finishing the little whiskey left in his glass in one gulp. “I’ll see ya back at home by curfew.”

“About that…” Ellie looked up at Joel with a hopeful smile. “Dina invited me over to spend the night—“

“Dina can spend the night at ours,” he argued, that protective streak of his making it’s usual appearance.

“Dina and I don’t wanna watch you drink and sing along to George Jones, dude,” she replied, frowning up at him until he broke.

“Fine. But you’re back in time for breakfast tomorrow.” Ellie grinned as she nodded at him, his eyes rolling and a chuckle escaping his chest. “Spoiled.”

As Joel starts to make his exit, he stops at the bar to deliver his empty glass and pay off his bill. That’s where you find him.

“Hey,” you start, hoping to conceal your deeply hidden crush on the older man with friendliness. Joel’s head turns to you so quickly you swear you hear his neck crack, his unreadable eyes locking on yours as though you were some sort of apparition he was almost certain wasn’t actually there. “I just wanted to come over. Say hi.”

“Hi,” he replies, choked and unprepared. Clearing his throat, he tips his head towards your table. “I saw you were with your friends, otherwise I would’a came over and said somethin’.”

“You can always come over and say something,” you assure, fighting the urge to bat your eyes at him as you give him a smile. The man whose coat you’re wearing lingers in the back of your mind as you stare at the man you’ve wanted since he arrived.

“How’s the new fence treatin’ ya?” he asks, a smile creeping onto his face as he leans a shoulder onto the bar and faces you. You think back to the weekend he spent building your white picket fence last month, free of charge. The way his arms looked in a t-shirt as he sawed away at the wood still makes you dizzy.

“Well, it’s still upright so…you must’ve done a good enough job on it,” you offer with a smirk, earning the slightest of chuckles. You always wondered why everyone seemed to think he didn’t have a sense of humor, he seemed to find you funny enough. “I, uh, also came over to invite you over to my place tomorrow evening.”

You watch as Joel’s brow lifts with interest.

“Oh yeah? You throwin’ a party or somethin’?” he asks.

“My birthday,” you shrug. “Figured I’ve gone twenty years without celebrating it, might as well.”

“That’s what this place is supposed to be about,” he says. “Doin’ normal things again.”

“Exactly,” you smile, ignoring the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when he mimicks it. “So, can I count you in?”

“Long as you got somethin’ to drink.” You laugh and nod in reassurance. “Well, I’m in, then.”

“Alright, I’ll let you escape before someone else comes up and tries to talk to you,” you offer, reaching your hand over to touch his arm. Joel looks down at the contact before meeting your eyes again, something unreadable lingering in his dark irises that makes you flustered enough to pull your hand away. “I’ll see you.”

“See ya,” he replies, quiet as he taps the counter with his knuckles before turning and walking off. Your eyes couldn’t help but lower to his fist as it hung by his side, clenching and unclenching. With a subtle but deep breath, you turn around and walk back to your table—back to your boyfriend and all of his perfection that bores you beyond belief.

“Why did you go up to him?” Josie, a friend of yours, asks as you return to your spot at the table and reach for your beer to wash down the lingering desire.

“I invited him to my party,” you replied, shrugging as you gave her a confused look. “What?”

“Babe,” your boyfriend, Will, chuckles. “He’s…old.”

“And an ass,” Josie adds. You roll your eyes at them, knowing that neither of them ever had a real conversation with Joel, making their opinion of him mute. “Did he say yes?”

“Yes,” you chuckle, amused by the shock on their faces. “We’re friends!”

“Since when?” Josie asks with a hearty laugh.

“Since always,” you reply with a shrug before continuing, “I helped show him around when he got here since I’m right across the street.” Josie looks to Will and then Will looks to you, a look of amused confusion on his handsome face. “He’s a nice guy when you get to know him.”

“Maybe, but he’s also old enough to be our father,” Will argues. You roll your eyes at the reality of the age gap between you and your secret crush, twenty-two years to be exact.

“There are only so many people our age in Jackson, honey,” you say, irritation thick in your tone. “And besides, just because he’s older means I shouldn’t be friendly to him? We’re just gonna start shunning every person in Jackson above what, fifty?”

“You know what,” Will starts, reaching his hand over to rub your back, his warm touch only making you feel colder. “You’re right. We’ll be friendly to him too. Okay?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, lifting your beer up to your lips, wishing more than anything that the man touching you was someone else.

Joel’s in bed, his drunk thoughts centering around you. Around the way you smiled up at him as though you had no clue that his heart was beating out of his chest. Maybe you didn’t, but how could you not notice his sweaty palms, the nervous twitch of his lips when you forced a smile onto his face?

He was sure he was going to lose it completely when your hand came to rest on his arm. He wanted to run and at the same time wanted to get closer, to feel you too. But, the falter in your smile once his eyes met yours and your hand leaving his arm so abruptly it hurt grounded him back to reality. The one in which you were a taken woman and he was a man twenty years older.

It makes him feel sick when he tries not to think about you, so he doesn’t bother as he reaches his hand over his briefs and grips his swelling girth in an attempt to soothe the throbbing ache there. He grunts as he strokes himself through the fabric, just enough to build himself up slowly.

He thinks of you. He thinks of that weekend he built your fence. He thinks about the way you looked in the sun, the green grass beneath you as you sat out on the lawn and kept him company. He thinks about your legs, bare in the summer heat, your denim shorts cut short enough to make him turn red when you rolled over to lay on your stomach.

As he rubbed his thumb over the now weeping head of his cock, he imagined what it would be like to take those shorts off of you. To lay claim to what lies underneath. He moans as he imagines the sounds he’d pull from you.

Pulling his briefs down enough that his cock was springing free, he licks his hand and grips himself at the base, another choked moan slipping free as his fist glides up and then down again, over and over.

He wonders what you’re like in bed, how you like it, if you’d let him take control or demand it for yourself. It didn’t really matter, he remembers, not when he’d never have the chance of finding out.

When he cums, he groans, his fist stroking up and down, gathering his spend to help ease the glide of his hand until he’s finally had his fill. With a sigh, he lets his head fall back against his pillow, his eyes on the ceiling fan spinning above him.

“Get a fuckin’ grip,” he curses himself.

It doesn’t work.

•

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller reader insert #joel miller tlou #just friends

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harlowcomehome · 2 months

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Jack sat at his family kitchen table, nursing a warm mug of throat coat tea in his hands as he ran his shaky fingers through his tousled curls. He was using a mug that you had bought him for your one year anniversary, one of many gifts you had gotten him that day. He smiled looking down at it knowing you were beyond irritated with him right now it provided some comfort.

You’re going to mess this up, why can’t you juggle a relationship and your career? The thoughts swirled around in his brain, making him almost physically ill until the sound of his mother’s voice interrupted his thought process.

“Someone who loves me got me this mug” Maggie read out loud, a giggle escaping her as she knew her son was sitting in his regret. She overheard the argument between you two this morning, no matter how much you tried to keep your voice down Jack’s deep voice carried throughout the house. The pouty look on his face and prominent eye-bags were also an immediate tell.

“She’s pretty pissed at me so I thought I’d remind myself that she still loves me” he flashed her a fake smile, trying his best to make a joke out of the situation as he usually did.

“I can’t exactly blame her” Maggie spoke to her son in a soft tone, knowing he was already upset from the fight that the two of you had. “Where is she right now?”

“With Neelam, working on some stuff” He sighed, “it’s not like I intended for the other place to fall through, and with filming the movie and the album dropping, I don’t see the rush. I just feel like it’s not fair for her to be upset about it” he nervously fidgeted in his chair, the wood cracking underneath his tall frame.

“It’s also not fair for you to expect her to agree with you on everything. She has to realize that with your career there are a lot of sacrifices that have to be made and you have to realize that not everything is always about you. Sometimes she just needs her feelings validated and heard” Brian chimed in as he started to wash off the dish he had used for breakfast.

“It’s a rarity but your dad’s right” Maggie teased, giving Brian a nod. This was a topic that both Maggie and Brian had already discussed privately, seemingly being able to feel your frustrations before Jack was aware of them.

“I know you want your own space, so what’s stopping you?” Maggie sat down with Jack at the kitchen table while Brian continued to wash what little dishes were in the sink. It had already been a little over a month, and while she was happy to have you both she knew the two of you needed your space.

“I just want things to be perfect. I already made her move from Atlanta to here and I don’t want us to end up in another place that doesn’t feel perfect” he avoided his mother's gaze, knowing she’d draw the entire truth out of him and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to admit it. He felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders and he just wished y/n would give him more grace.

“And what else?” Maggie was patient, knowing he’d get there eventually.

“I just don’t want to disappoint her. I feel like what I’m looking for in a place isn’t out there. Maybe we should’ve built a home?” He stretched his long legs out, becoming fidgety once again.

Brian shook his head, knowing Jack and his mother were alike in that aspect. It is always hard to be content when you want more and more and more.

Jack's phone vibrated, interrupting the conversation as he excused himself to answer it. “Hey baby, what’s going on?”

You did your best to put your eavesdropping of his acting lessons to work, frantically making your voice go up an octave as you lied about his jeep getting a flat tire. You both were sharing a car right now after selling yours before the move.

You hadn’t spoken to him in hours and he was still on edge but when he heard your worried voice on the other end his heart dropped. “I’ll be right there! Don’t worry, I’m on my way.”

Maggie and Brian looked at him curiously as he ran to get shoes on. “Can I borrow the car?” He was panicked and didn’t wait for an answer before running out of the door.

You shared your location with Jack and he showed up almost immediately surprised when he found you calmly sitting inside the jeep.

He pulled up beside you, confused as all four tires were fine. He got out of his parent’s car and knocked on the window, scaring you briefly before you got out of the car.

“I thought you had a flat?” His brow was furrowed, and a look of confusion spread across his face as he walked around the car to take a second look.

“I had a big strong man help me instead” you teased squeezing his bicep and pushing his buttons on purpose.

His cheeks became red in an instant, “stop playing with me. Why did you really call me down here?” He pulled you into his chest, rocking back and forth with you.

“Are you still grumpy?” You pouted, knowing he wasn’t as emotionally strong-willed as he’d like to think as you stroked his beard with your nails.

“Are you still bratty?” He joked, knowing both of you were full of emotions and regret.

“I hate fighting with you and I’m sorry” you blurted out knowing you hated the space you were in.

“I’m sorry too baby, but umm where are we?” He turned toward the apartment building.

“The landlord gave me the keys to a unit for an hour so we can tour it. If you don’t like it, that’s fine and we can keep looking. It looked nice online” You held the keys up in the air still giving him the same pouty face.

“Let’s go tour this place” he turned to his parents' car making sure it was locked with the click of a button before the two of you walked over to the empty apartment.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to start envisioning a life in it, expressing where the couches could go or what bedroom would be the office space but when Jack went silent on you, you were worried something had gone wrong.

You turned to him as he had gone quiet, he was leaning against the wall, watching admirably as you babbled about kitchen appliances, and taking mental note that you wanted a kitchen aid (preferably in lavender.)

“Do you not like it? We can keep looking, I have another viewing after this one. I was trying to be proactive but if you’re not sold on this place that’s okay too” You nervously rambled especially when he didn’t speak to you in return, even after all this time together his icy blues had that effect on you.

“I love you” he hummed, walking toward you as he threw his head back, a soft laugh escaping him. “I really, really love you” his hands explored your body as he pulled you into him.

“I love you too babe” You kissed him, pulling on his lip as you pulled away. You pushed his curls out of his face.

“Do you want another apartment or should we look at houses?” He wanted to know your honest opinion.

“Well this year, we will hardly be home and it’s just the two of us right now, so I think an apartment is perfect! But do you want to check the other one out to be sure?”

He nodded, knowing that was the responsible thing to do. “We are probably going to spend a lot of our time in LA this year with the movie” he reminded you.

“Neelam said about three or four months so that’s not bad and then we can tour in the fall, right?” You walked back to the cars holding hands, Jack had become less concerned about who saw you two and you followed his lead.

“Nail tech drops the 18th so I have to finish that music video this week and we have the Turks and Caicos trip at the beginning of March” he was trying to remember everything important, but wore his stress on his face.

“I remember, I have your schedule. Don’t worry about it” You pushed the same stray curl out of his face, as he opened the jeep car door for you.

You had no idea what made him decide to actually take a vacation, you had hopes your convincing had something to do with it or maybe because life was about to be incredibly hectic he decided he deserved it. You were surprised when he took Drake's offer to come, and even more surprised when he asked you to come with him.

So imagine your surprise when you find out the real reason he invited you on this trip…. 💍

#Jack Harlow #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagines #Jack Harlow series #Jack Harlow fanfic

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writingforstraykids · 2 months

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He deserved it - Pt.2

Pairing: Minchan | Minlix | Minchanlix

Word Count: 2559

Summary: Chan cleans up Felix's mess and ends up getting closer with Minho. Felix notices and maybe does feel a little jealous. Confronting Chan hasn't been his smartest idea.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, smut, aftercare with Chan, indication of mirror sex / semi-public sex (minchan), sub!min, dom!chan, switch!felix

A/N: Here's the part two you wanted...I guess that ending screams for another part, but I'll leave that up to you🤭

PART ONE

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Chan swallowed softly and pulled the door close behind himself, locking it to avoid any of their friends stumbling in. Minho seemed extremely vulnerable right now, and it ignited a protective feeling in his chest he hadn't felt in a while about him. He knew he was blushing; he could practically feel the heat radiating off his face and burning in his ears. Chan went to Minho's closet, got one of his fuzzy blankets, and sat down at the edge of the bed. “Min?” he asked, trying to see how responsive his friend was.

“Yeah?” he asked quietly, tears still spilling from his eyes as his body was fighting the aftershocks of pure pleasure.

“You're okay?” he asked softly, and Minho hummed.

“Very,” he nodded, a slight blush creeping up his neck as he realized how messy he must look right now in front of Chan.

Chan hesitantly reached out for him, fingers shaking as he brushed his hair from his face. “I'll help you clean up, yeah?”

“Mhm, okay, Channie hyung,” he nodded drowsily. “It's not like I could walk on my own right now.”

Chan almost choked on his breath. “I'll draw you a bath,” he said, scrambling to his feet and quickly busying himself in the bathroom. He cursed himself for getting so flustered. Fucks sake, he had seen every other of his friends naked before, turning into a moaning mess beneath him. Was it because he always thought he'd never see Minho that way? They'd never work because, well…they both liked to be in control. When he came back, Minho still hadn't moved, goosebumps slowly covering his skin. Chan tried not to stare too much but fuck, that was hard. “And he just left you like that?”

“Made him mad,” Minho shrugged and licked his dry lips. “Told me to clean myself up or beg you for help.”

Chan laughed and rolled his eyes. “He wouldn't have left you if I hadn't agreed.”

“Don't be so sure about that; he's a little devil if you give him the chance,” he laughed and shifted a little as he tried to get comfortable.

Chan noticed he was beginning to freeze and spoke before he could think it through. “Can I give you a cuddle until the bath is ready?” he asked, blushing at Minho's puzzled look.

“Channie, there's Felix's cum dripping from my ass and my own smeared all over my stomach. I'll make a mess of you,” he giggled.

Chan blushed heavily before nodding. “I know. I don't mind.”

“Nasty,” Minho commented.

“Shut it; you're the one unable to walk right now because you've been such a tease,” he snorted, and Minho weakly punched his arm. Chan giggled as Minho pushed himself onto his knees with a groan, wincing a little. He pulled him into his lap and wrapped the fuzzy blanket around them.

Minho slumped against his chest and buried his face in his neck with a soft huff. He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by Chan's natural scent, and picked up on a hint of Jeongin’s favorite cologne. Chan's hugs always felt safe, and he loved indulging them when they were back home. No one was expecting him to “hate” it here. “I'll be so sore tomorrow,” he grumbled, and Chan chuckled.

“I'll pay him back next time, fuck him stupid,” Chan said, not really thinking again. He was too occupied with the feeling of his hand resting on Minho's bare skin beneath the blanket and lingering on his lower back so tenderly.

“You could fuck me stupid instead; I'd gain more from that,” Minho answered and couldn't quite believe he said that out loud. Fucks sake.

“I can't believe you, only a minute ago, you were still sobbing, and now you're asking for it again,” he snickered.

“And that's the only thing keeping you from doing so?” he teased softly, nuzzling his nose into his neck.

“Minho,” Chan whispered, his grip on his back subconsciously growing tighter.

Minho pulled back and squinted at him, amused, hooking his finger beneath Chan's chin and making him look at him. “You'd like that, huh?” he asked, and Chan could only nod, blushing furiously. “And just for your information, I cry when I feel really good.”

Chan hummed and swallowed thickly. He gently brushed back his hair and smiled at him. “I'll ruin you another day.”

“What if I want you to do so right-oh god,” Minho moaned out shakily as Chan wrapped his hand around his dick. His eyes fluttered close, and his fingers buried deeply into Chan's shoulder. “Oh, just like that,” he breathed out and whimpered softly as Chan kissed down his neck before licking a stripe up to his ear. He used his other hand to brace Minho and bent his head, licking over his nipples teasingly. Minho shuddered with a gasp, already leaking down Chan's hand. He was still so sensitive he wouldn't last long. How embarrassing he'd fall apart so easily the first time he touched him. It didn't help feeling Chan's dick pressing up against him through his sweatpants. “Channie,” he breathed out needily.

“I know,” he whispered against his skin. “I know, it's okay. We'll do it properly another time.”

Minho whimpered and needily fucked into Chan's fist, growing more sloppy with every thrust. “Channie, so close,” he warned him, and Chan gave him permission.

His stomach fluttered at Minho's face, flooding with pleasure, lips opening in a sweet moan of his name. Chan could feel his release dripping down his hand, and he knew Minho had made a mess of his shirt now, but he didn't care. Not with the blissed-out look on Minho's face. The sight made him feel so good he couldn't quite believe himself.

He gave him a moment to calm down before getting up with him in his arms. “Now, let's clean you up.”

“I still can't believe you'd get that jealous,” Jeongin snickered in Felix's arms.

“I'm not,” Felix giggled. “Minho hyung wanted Channie to care for him for ages but was too shy to ask.”

“Oh,” he nodded gently.

“So yes, when he was being a tease today, I thought I'd give them a little push,” he laughed and kissed his head. “I would've never left him like that if Chan hadn't agreed.”

“You're a menace,” he giggled and cuddled closer.

“No, that's called smart,” he grinned.

Minho's eyes fluttered at how nice the warm water and soothing lavender scent welcomed his tired body. He glanced up at Chan, who didn't quite know where to look. “You just gave me a handjob, I think you can stop acting shy now.”

“Sorry,” he laughed breathlessly.

“Join me?” he asked, and Chan heavily blushed. “Don't think I didn't notice you came in your pants.”

“Minho, I-,” he stammered, and Minho giggled.

“No wonder if our maknae needed help right before,” he smirked, and at Chan's puzzled look, he added, “You smelled like him.”

“You're insane,” Chan laughed and gave in, taking his shirt off. Minho watched him intensely as he did, not really hiding that he was enjoying the show. Chan quickly got into the water, slipping in behind him and spreading his legs. Minho scooted closer with a soft grunt, leaning back against him. Chan gently rubbed his arms before wrapping his own around Minho's stomach.

Minho gently intertwined their fingers, melting a little at how small his hands felt in Chan's. He didn't know what made him do it, but he shifted in Chan's lap just enough to bury his face in his chest. A soft sigh escaped him at the skin contact, and he could feel a small laugh rumble through his chest. “Asshole,” he giggled.

“I always knew you like being hugged,” he smirked succeedingly.

“I like it when you do it,” he nodded softly. “Makes me feel safe.”

Chan smiled softly and kissed his hair. “I'm glad it does.”

Minho shuffled in his lap once more before straddling him, arms wrapped around his neck. “Channie?” he asked softly, searching his eyes.

“Yeah?” he asked, soothingly rubbing his hips.

“Please don't let this be a one-time thing?” he sounded almost timid, tugging at Chan's heartstrings.

Chan shook his head and cupped his face with one hand. “I'll make you feel good as often as you want to from now on.”

“Promise?” he smiled sweetly.

“Promise,” Chan giggled, eyes widening as Minho lunged forward and gave him a kiss. He only needed a second before he kissed back passionately, trying to make it last. He buried his hand in his hair, smiling into the feeling that sent shivers down his body. Now, he finally could take care of all his boys.

Not much later, Minho was dressed in a comfy sweater and sweatpants belonging to Chan. He was comfortable in Chan's bed, the soft lilac light making him even sleepier than before. Minho brought the sweater to his face and buried his nose in it, getting flooded with Chan's scent. He couldn't bite back the lazy smile tugging at his lips. Chan returned with a glass of water and sat beside him. His curls were still a little damp, and Minho was purely relaxed after Chan washed his hair, massaging his scalp so perfectly and then doing the same with his aching body. “Come on, kitten,” he spoke softly, and Minho blushed a little, sitting up. He let Chan help him to drink a bit before smiling at him fondly. Chan put the water aside and lovingly fondled his hair. “Cuddles?”

“Please,” Minho nodded sweetly.

Felix and Jeongin peeked into Chan's room after a while, exchanging a grin at the sight of their hyungs cuddled up. Minho's head was tucked safely beneath Chan's, their legs intertwined. Chan's hand was beneath Minho's sweater, and Minho was holding onto his sweater in his sleep in return.

“Cute,” Felix commented.

“Guess you did it,” Jeongin chuckled before they left them in peace.

One week later

Chan was strolling down the hallway, hearing “Taste” blast through the almost empty building. He was ready to go home, but he had a feeling Minho wouldn’t leave if he didn’t remind him of the time. Pushing the door open, his breath hitched, seeing Minho immersed in the choreo. He quietly pulled the door close behind himself and leaned against it, watching him curiously. None of them knew what Minho had planned for that song yet; he only knew Felix and Hyunjin pitched in some ideas this afternoon. Chan’s thoughts started wandering as he watched the younger man sink down to his knees and spread his legs as he did. He slowly pushed himself off the door and made his way over, strolling into his view behind him. By the time he reached him, Minho was back on the floor, rolling his hips. It didn’t help that right after his angelic voice blasted from the speaker with the words, “Don’t make me bad, make me bad, I’m addicted to you.”.

Minho stopped in his movements, surprised to spot him through the mirror, and swallowed at how confidently Chan closed the remaining distance between them. Chan stepped right behind him and leaned down, kissing him upside down as Minho lost balance and fell to his bum. Minho didn’t waste much time, turned in their kiss so he was facing him and grabbed him by his shirt. He pulled him down roughly, catching his fall with his legs, and arched into his body as soon as Chan was on top of him. “Hey there,” he chuckled into their kiss and buried his hand in his hair.

“Hi,” Chan smirked mischievously. “Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt, but…you make it very hard to resist you, moving like that.”

Minho hummed, pleased, and raised his eyebrows at him. “Well, did you come here to watch only, or?”

“Oh, I definitely came here to watch. Wanna see your face when I ruin you,” he smirked and sat up. Minho did as well and gulped softly as Chan scooted behind him, meeting his eyes through the mirror. “And here is perfect because you can see for yourself.”

“Fuck,” he breathed out needily. “Fuck, yes, please,” he nodded quickly, and Chan’s eyes darkened behind him, clouding with lust.

Felix had watched Minho curiously the next morning during breakfast as he sat down with a soft wince. Taking a look at Chan, spotting a few marks on his neck, he could imagine what had happened yesterday night when everyone else had been home already. Luckily, Hyunjin caught a cold so it would be only them practicing today.

He walked up to Minho and wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him in. “Had fun last night?”

“Mhm, the practice was alright; I think I have the dance worked out now, and-” he swallowed as Felix wrapped his hand around his neck and met his eyes through the mirror.

“I’m not talking about that,” he said sharply, and Minho gulped nervously. “You enjoyed Chan hyung fucking you dumb?” he asked, and his hyung’s eyes widened.

“I-uh-,” he stammered, and the grip around his neck tightened.

“I won’t ask again,” Felix warned him.

“Y-Yes,” he nodded timidly. “I did.”

“You still think he can wreck you better than I did?” he asked, and Minho blushed heavily.

“Felix,” he whined softly, squirming in his hold as Felix planted his other hand right on his dick, straining against the fabric of his jeans.

“You don’t wanna chose, that’s fine,” he nodded and squinted his eyes at him. “Where?”

“Wh-What?” he whispered.

“You heard me,” he said sharply and Minho shrunk in his grip.

Chan flinched in his chair as the door to his room opened and got slammed close forcefully. His eyes widened seeing Minho, staring at the floor nervously, Felix right behind him. Felix shoved the older over to Chan’s sofa and gave him a little push. Minho fell back into the cushion with a soft groan and yelped as Felix climbed on top of him, wrapping his hand around his neck once again. “Lix,” he whispered and glanced at Chan embarrassed.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Chan asked irritated and got up.

“You decided to fuck him in my room, so I’ll do the same now,” he told him and raised his eyebrows challengingly at him.

Chan scoffed and an amused smirk settled on his lips. He locked the door and slipped the key into his pocket. “My dear sunshine, you may be in control with him,” he said, pointing at Minho. “But may I remind you who’s in control when it’s us?” he asked and stepped next to him, wrapping his hand around his neck. He leaned down with a grin and winked at Minho. “So what makes you think you can come into my room and do as you like, hm?” he whispered into his ear and Felix shivered with need.

Shit, he didn’t quite think that one through.

“Oh god, it’s not like I couldn’t handle both of you, just do something, please,” Minho whined beneath them, wide eyes darting between their faces.

Chan exchanged an amused glance with Felix before leaning over to open the drawer of his desk. “Not how I planned my day, but I can’t complain,” he said, flicking the cap of the bottle of lube in his hand open. “Who’s first?”

PART ONE

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noxturnalpascal · 24 days

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Devotion 🖤 II. Predator or Prey? (Ch 7)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

⚠️PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE SERIES WARNINGS, ESPECIALLY: references to previous SAs (not described in detail), manipulation, thoughts of self-harm and suicide.⚠️

II. Predator or Prey?

CH 7 (7.8k) | 10 Weeks Later | It’s the last Thursday in March and you’re helping pack up the wagon for Hank and his daughter, Amber, to make one of their weekly trips into town. The milk churns are loaded in the back, filled and ready for delivery to the Valley residents in town. You double check the breast collars on the horses and the traces going to the wagon while Hank asks if you’re sure you don’t wanna come with? He asks every week and every week your answer is the same.

“No thank you, Hank, there’s plenty to do here.”

While that’s certainly true, it’s not the real reason you never join them. There’s plenty to keep you busy and never a shortage of chores on a dairy farm, especially one that has almost no electrical power to help run it. But the more honest reason you don’t join them in town is that it would complicate your ability to avoid Joel. Part of you felt a finality when you got here, that whatever it was between you was over and you’d start fresh and finally be rid of him. But you should have known better. You should have known he’d still haunt you.

Your mind has still been full of him, filled with memories of the good times and the bad. You think you see him out of the corner of your eye, in places he shouldn’t be, but when you turn to look, of course he isn't there. Sometimes you think you can smell him when you walk into your room at night, but he’s definitely never been in there. You can usually avoid actively seeing him, since Hank doesn’t like to attend the Friday night events and Joel would never come this far out of town with as busy as he’s kept by Tess. But you can’t avoid him on Sundays.

Hank never presses the issue when he asks you to join him on Thursday nights, but joining them on Sundays isn’t optional. As a devout man, Hank requires everyone to dress in their best clothes and make the hour-long ride into town so you can all sit in the big, old church and hear about God’s plan for you. Every Sunday you see Joel in the front row, sitting through the service before he gets up and makes his usual speech. You scoot down in the pew, making yourself as small as possible, trying not to draw attention. He gives you none.

Once the service is over, everyone funnels out of the church to the rec hall next door. You walk past the closet where you were on your knees for your false god and try not to burn at the shameful feeling that washes over you, twisting your stomach into knots. You hate him. You miss him. You hate yourself. Sometimes Tess comes over to your table at dinner and talks to the Mansfields, making sure to ask how you’re doing and gives you kind smiles. But Joel never comes over. He sits at his table with the other women – and Beth – and keeps his back turned to you.

You once thought that it seemed like he was putting extra effort into purposely not looking your way. You pushed the preposterous thought from your mind until you realized too late one Sunday that you were in a line to shake his hand before dinner. You were busy re-plaiting Amber’s braid at her insistence and didn’t notice how close you were to him until you heard his gruff voice speaking to Hank. It was too late for you to run the other way, which is what you usually did, so instead you ducked down, trying to hide behind Amber, knowing it was futile.

Amber beamed at him, shaking his hand with both of hers, bubbling with praise over how great his speech was and what a great job he did. Her little crush on him had never been more annoying than it was at that moment. You knew that he knew you were there, there was no way to hide your entire body behind Amber’s diminutive frame. And yet, you watched his eyes jump over you and land on the next person in line, completely – and purposely – ignoring your presence. He was definitely making an effort.

–

All of that happened nearly two months ago and now you just make absolutely sure to pay attention and stay away from him on Sundays, so you don’t have to notice him not noticing you. In fact, these days you hardly think of him at all. Okay, maybe that’s not quite true, but you’d like to think that in comparison to when you first got to the Mansfield’s, you’re doing much better.

The first night you’d arrived, Amber had led you up the stairs to her room, which she said you’d be sharing. The room was huge, probably three times bigger than the room you had been calling yours. You had a comfortable bed all to yourself on one side of the room as well as three dresser drawers and half the closet to fill with your things. You hadn’t brought anywhere near enough clothes to go in the spaces, but you found that Beth had unexpectedly left several items of clothing behind in a size that fit you.

When the lanterns were snuffed out for the night you’d laid your head on the pillow and cried heaving, muffled sobs, hoping Amber wouldn’t hear you. Why were you crying? You had more space and more autonomy at that moment than you’d had in months. You had a bedroom door that closed and a family that was eager to have you. No one was going to hit you, touch you, or scream at you. You were safe. And yet you felt so alone. More alone than you had in a very long time.

You’d let yourself cry until your head ached, and then you got up and walked to the bathroom, splashing some cold water on your warm, puffy face. You looked in the mirror and began to chide your pitiful reflection.

Why are you crying over him? Why would you miss him? What is wrong with you?

These same thoughts repeated for the first week, playing over and over in your mind every time you started to feel sad. So stupid of you to cry as if you were the only one in the world with problems. The whole world had gone to hell and you were crying because some man lied to you. You shouldn’t have even fucking trusted him in the first place. You’d let yourself fall right into his trap even though everything inside you was telling you not to.

–

You wonder if he misses you or if he’s already moved on to the next one. Maybe Beth has fully replaced you and his focus is on her now, already suffocating her with affection and fucking her in your old bed. Had he asked Tess about you, or Hank, or anyone? You have thoughts about getting sick or even dying, and wonder what he would say when he heard, if he would feel bad, if he would shed a tear. He most likely wouldn’t care at all, his fixation with you having run its course. You were yesterday’s news.

You think about hurting yourself and if he’d do anything about that. Maybe he’d come out to the farm and visit you; sit by your bedside and read to you. Maybe he’d throw you over his knee and spank you for it. You wonder if you should leave The Valley, and you’re not sure which would hurt more; him coming after you or him letting you go. Maybe you should kill yourself. He’s not around to stop you. No one is.

Goddamnit, you are so fucking dramatic. None of this shit matters, anyway – your life was always a burning pile of trash and it was always going to be a burning pile of trash. A couple-months-blip of whatever pseudo-relationship you had with this man was not the pinnacle of your life. He wasn’t sent by some higher power to save you. You weren’t two halves of a whole, ripped apart at the beginning of creation, roaming the ends of the earth to find each other again. Get a fucking grip.

Oh, you were used by a man for your body? What else is new? That’s not breaking fucking news, that’s just what men do. That’s what men do to you. That is what your life has always been and clearly you’re some kind of magnet for this behavior. There is obviously something about you that all these men see and it calls out to them that you’ll fall for their bullshit every time and they can take whatever they want from you. You’re doing something wrong, leading them on somehow. You deserve this. You were asking for it.

At the end of the first week you’d told yourself you weren’t gonna go on with these spiraling, obsessive, pathetic thoughts about him anymore. You were exhausted at feeling this way and were sure everyone around you was getting tired of it too, of you moping around the farm like Eeyore, sniveling and crying. You were distracted all the time, head in the clouds. Months worth of hopes and dreams played over and over in your mind, each recalled moment had hit you like a fucking shotgun blast to the stomach.

Giggling in the hallway while he kissed your neck and tickled your skin with his stubble. Pow.

The phantom feeling of his fingertips tracing circles on your skin while he reads to you. Pow.

The heat of his body behind you, sniffing your hair, whispering, “Good morning, baby.” Pow.

His tongue sliding along your bottom lip, licking into your mouth, tasting you. Pow.

How stupid were you to think that’s what your life was going to be like? As if it could ever be like that. Your life isn’t a fucking movie, it’s not a love song, it’s not some sappy romance novel. You’re not the main character, you’re not the heroine. You don't get a happy ending. You get to be used. You get to be left. You get to be alone. You get to be hungry. You get to feel empty.

That’s what you had before, why would it be any different now, here – at the end of the world? Why would you deserve anything different?

–

You need to stop your hyper-fixating thoughts, you feel like you’re going crazy out here, haunted by him. There’s no one you can talk to or confide in, no one you trust. You have to find a way to get this out of your system. You need to figure out how to move on. You decide you’re going to let yourself have each memory one time, and then you’re gonna pack it up and send it away, so it can’t hurt you anymore.

You find an old stack of newspapers in the loft of the barn and begin ripping off small sections. Each time you have one of these spiraling thoughts of him – losing yourself in a memory – you walk to the edge of the property and stand next to the creek that runs through there. You let yourself have the thought, from start to finish, and before you can repeat it or turn it over in your head to overthink it, you crumple the scrap of paper in your hand – crunching it down into a tiny little ball – and throw it into the creek. Once it’s out of sight you don’t let yourself dwell on it anymore.

The conversation you had one evening, limbs entwined, between making out like teenagers on the chilly front porch, saying that if he’d met you before the world ended he’d have taken you out on a date.

“Where would you take me?”

“Out for ice cream, to a baseball game, maybe a drive-in movie.”

“What movie?”

“Any movie you wanted to see, baby.”

“What else?”

“I’d bring you flowers, hold your hand, kiss you goodnight.”

“Would you call me after?”

“Of course I would, you’d be my girl.”

His girl. His. His possession. Maybe that’s all he ever wanted; to own you like you were just another one of his little things on a shelf.

Into the river.

Right around Thanksgiving, he’d told you more about Sarah, his daughter. He’d told you she loved the color purple, drawing butterflies, playing soccer with her friends, and giving her old man shit. You’d thought the shine in his eyes when he talked about her was one of the best things about him.

“Single dad?”

“Yup.”

“Ever married?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Just never appealed to me.”

You didn’t read into it at the time but you wonder now if you shouldn’t have seen the signs, if it wasn’t obvious and you were just being willfully ignorant. Oh well.

Into the river.

You told him about going with a friend and her stepdad to their lake house for an overnight when you were little. You and your friend had spent all day playing in the water and when it was time for bed she was out as soon as her head hit the pillow. The loud, squealing of the air conditioning kicking on and off kept you awake and you reluctantly got up to ask the only adult to make it stop. He suggested you sleep in his bed instead, lifting the covers for you to join him. Against your better instincts, you crawled in.

“How old were you?” he asked with gritted teeth.

“Maybe eight.”

He cursed under his breath. “Wasn’t right.”

“I know.”

“Wasn’t your fault.”

“I know that too.”

“He shouldn’t ha–”

“I know, Joel.”

“You tell anyone? Your mom, your dad?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know… I guess it felt like something you’re supposed to keep secret.”

“Did he ever–?”

“No. I never saw him again. And I never hung out with that girl again.”

What’s worse? The memory of it, the shame of recalling it in front of him, or the way he pitied you, holding you tighter in his arms that night than he ever had before?

Into the river.

This was your routine, sometimes once or twice a day, sometimes more. One particularly hard day early on you made nearly a dozen trips to the river. Amber asked if you were okay. You lied and told her you were fine. You had to let him go, each thought you released cleansing you of him, letting the water wash away your pain. This went on for weeks and weeks and you’re not sure if you’re actually getting better but you are feeling a little better and maybe that’s all you can hope for.

–

Amber used to ask you a million questions a day about him. What was Joel like? Was he nice? What was his house like? What did you do there? Was it fun? You didn’t have the heart to tell her that he was both your ultimate dream and your worst nightmare, that his house was a trap that he held you in while he manipulated and hurt you, and that he was a monster hiding in plain sight in this community he created just for that purpose. Instead of divulging that heinous truth, you suffice to tell her that Joel is kind, the house is nice, and living there was fine.

It was obvious that she had a little thing for him, but if you’re being honest she probably got it from her mother, who talked about Joel with the same dreamy lilt to her voice as Amber. Hank also seemed to get misty-eyed when he talked about what great things Joel has done for the people in this valley. A wolf emerges in the apocalypse, disguising himself as a shepherd, and the sheep all flock to him. You remind yourself not to judge them too harshly since you too were once one of the sheep.

You’d been living with the Mansfields for about a month when Amber started to make comments about Beth coming back to the house. Your stomach lept into your throat, thinking that it meant you’d have to go back to your tiny, doorless room at Joel’s house. But the more she spoke the more you realized she was acting like she would be the one going to live at Joel’s. You realized that you saw them last Sunday, hunched in a corner, talking to each other. You’d just assumed she had trapped him into talking to her, knowing how captivated she was with everything that came out of his mouth.

But now you wonder if they haven’t been growing closer, getting to know each other at the Thursday meetings she insisted on going to when you turned down Hank’s offer to accompany him as Beth had. Maybe he likes how infatuated she is with him, it certainly seems like that’s something he’d be into – being worshiped. Maybe he’s already offered her the little room at the top of the stairs. She can mend holes in clothes and cook much better than you ever could, maybe she’d suck his dick better than you too. You hate the way your insides churn even more at that thought.

He’s moved on, forgotten about you. He’s onto the next one. He doesn’t even look at you anymore.

Hank had his wife, Laurel, give you chores early on, doing some of the work that Beth used to do around the house. However, she quickly realized what Tess had already figured out, that you weren’t any good at that kind of stuff. Within a week you had exhausted her patience and she sent you out to the barn for Hank to find work for you.

You’re pretty sure Hank liked you, you’d always had nice conversations with him on Thursdays, relating to him that your grandparents had a farm and you’d grown up visiting it. You’d left out the part where the farm was no longer operational when you visited it and maybe Hank had been happy to have you and Beth switch rooms when he thought he was getting some kind of experienced farm worker. So Hank gave you plenty of work, as there was always a ton to do, and then left you unsupervised most of the day while he tended to the silo levels, the pasture fences, the sanitizing of the milk churns, and countless other tasks.

Two ranch hands – Danny and Diego – live at the house with the family and spend every day, all day, working with Hank to operate the farm. They help milk the cows and goats, tend to sick animals, help with feedings, take care of cleaning of the freestalls, and also pretty much do every single job that Hank assigns to you.

You think they felt bad for you, with your puffy face and red eyes, dragging yourself around the barn during that dark before dawn at the end of that first week. Feeling dejected and out of sorts, missing the familiarity of your old home, being useless at basic homestead chores – they kept catching you crying in any corner you could find to yourself. They started doing your work back then, and even though that was over two months ago, you still barely lift a finger. Hank never seems to notice, all he cares is that the work is done.

You don’t talk much, you just keep to yourself and pet the animals. For a while you thought they must think you were stupid, but it turns out they just wanted to get on your good side. One day early on, they asked if you’d told Tess or Joel about them, and not knowing what the answer should be, you’d muttered not yet, and ran away. It wasn’t until you walked into the barn one snowy morning weeks later and found them standing too close to each other that it even dawned on you what part of them they were asking about.

You knew Hank wouldn’t approve if he saw them behaving that way, if he knew what it implied. Maybe he’d already seen them, and a threat had been made. Hank was a conservative man, old fashioned and strict. You thought maybe the phrase small-minded might also apply, but Hank was kind to all of you, so you tried not to judge him too harshly. You weren’t entirely sure why Danny and Diego were worried about Tess or Joel finding out about their relationship, but you were pretty sure they wouldn’t give a shit.

Joel was probably fucking half the women in town, why would he care if two guys down the valley were fucking each other? You kept that tidbit to yourself, along with the stories that Tess used to tell you about her gay brother, so that Danny and Diego would keep helping you – keep doing all your work. That was probably a little fucked up, to hold it over their heads in a way, but it also kept your boots from being covered in cow shit from mucking stalls all morning and your fingers from freezing off while milking cows all afternoon. It also meant you got to hang out with baby goats, which was sometimes the only happiness you had.

–

It’s the last Sunday in March and you’re sitting in the middle of the pew, wedged between Amber and Diego, as Joel gets up to address the congregation. Before you can do your usual sinking down in the seat to make yourself less visible, you see Bianca out of the corner of your eye. Bianca is here! You haven’t seen her since she moved out of the house before Thanksgiving.

You’re so focused on trying to look around the people’s heads in front of you to see her that you aren’t fully listening to the announcement Joel is making. Everyone around you begins to stand up and applaud and it makes it impossible to see Bianca, so you stand as well, confused now what everyone is clapping for. Slowly the applause dies down and everyone is sitting back down, but trying to get a glimpse of your friend, you remain standing a little too long.

And that’s when you see it. The baby. A very small baby. A newborn baby. Joel is holding it and smiling and as everyone sits down he hands it back to Bianca. You forget you’re supposed to be sitting down and don’t notice that everyone else around you is already seated. You’re still standing there, staring at this baby. Bianca has a baby? Wait, is that Joel’s fucking baby?

Amber is tugging on your shirt sleeve but it’s too late, Joel has turned back to the crowd, and for the first time in ten weeks, he looks right at you. You can’t fucking move, you can’t look away. The two of you stare at each other for far too long and you notice people starting to look back and forth between you, a low murmur spreading over the mass. Amber starts pulling frantically on your arm and Hank’s voice booms from the end of the row, ordering you to sit down. You hear Tess hissing Joel’s name from the front row.

A cheshire cat grin creeps across his face and he finally breaks eye contact with you, turning to address the congregation once more. You sit, plopping down heavily in your seat. You think Hank and his wife are whispering about you and Amber is telling you how embarrassing that was, but you can’t hear anything over the thumping of your own heart and the ringing in your ears. Bianca was fucking pregnant… the whole time? The whole time. Bile rises in your throat. Only then does it dawn on you that Tess moved her out when she started to show. That’s why she was getting bigger. Saliva begins to flood your mouth.

Joel fucked every woman in that house. Jesus fucking Christ, you were so blind. Your stomach lurches. He must fuck Tess too. No wonder Tess wanted you out of there – you were taking up too much of his time, too much of his focus. That’s probably why she sent Bianca away too, looking at her pregnant belly would have been a reminder that Joel was fucking all those other people. Tess must be jealous, right? You don’t blame her. You’d be jealous too. Fuck, you are jealous. Still. Even now, after all this time.

You jump up out of your seat and scrabble over laps, ignoring Hank’s protests you exit the pew and dart out of the sanctuary. Once in the foyer you run into the nearest bathroom and retch into the sink, unable to make it to the toilet. Once the contents of your stomach have been emptied out, you splash your face with water and rinse your mouth out.

–

You hide in the bathroom until the service ends, listening as people pass by the door, telling Amber you’re fine and you’ll meet the family in the rec hall when she comes in to check on you. You wait until you don’t hear any more conversation or shuffling feet in the foyer to finally exit the bathroom. The entire building is empty except for one other person who is waiting outside the bathroom when you come out.

Joel.

Your boots squeak on the floor as you stop quickly in your tracks with the full weight of his attention on you now. You forgot how heavy it feels, locked in his gaze – an invisible weight pushing down on your body and trapping you where you stand. You can’t run away, you can’t even manage to look away. How does he still have this fucking effect on you? He stands before you, seemingly just a man, but taking up the whole room, monumental and intimidating. But in this moment, caught up in the flood of emotions you feel, you forget that you’re supposed to be afraid of him. You forget because the strongest thing you feel right now is anger.

“Is that your baby?” you snarl.

He scoffs and waits a beat, letting you anticipate his response. “That’s none of your goddamn business,” he replies – in a church – one corner of his mouth turning up.

“Fuck you.”

He cocks an eyebrow and takes a single step towards you, a reminder that you should be afraid of him. You gasp and take two steps backwards, colliding with the wall behind you, your head hitting it with a thump that echoes in the empty hall. He’s searching your face now, eyes pausing on your mouth. You’re reminded that the closet where he had you on your knees is only a few feet away. Your heart starts to race and you take rapid breaths, feeling the adrenaline begin to course through your veins.

No. He’s not gonna intimidate you. He’s going to fucking answer you.

“Who’s baby was that?” you ask again, louder this time. He looks surprised you’re still speaking. “Is that your fucking baby?”

“What do you care?” he snaps.

“I– I don’t,” you stammer.

Another scoff. He’s fucking laughing at you. Another smug grin. This son of a bitch.

“Well now,” he shakes his head slowly, “That really doesn’t seem like the truth.” He takes measured steps forward, closing in on you.

“It is,” you manage to squeak out, swallowing around the lump in your throat with an audible gulp. This is the least fucking convincing thing you’ve ever said. “I don’t care. I just wanna know–”

Tsk, he hums, interrupting you. “Sounds like a lie to me,” he shakes his head more and takes another step, nearly toe to toe with you now.

You do everything in your power to keep your chin up, to keep your eyes locked on his and your teeth gritted. You hate him. You miss him. You hate yourself.

“You’d know,” you spit. “All you do is lie.” You’re half insulting him, half reminding yourself.

“At least I’m good at it, sweetheart.”

–

The ride back to the farm is quiet. Laurel asks if you’re feeling okay but otherwise no one mentions the scene you and Joel made during the service. Once you get back you head to your room with Amber, both of you changing into less formal clothes to do your afternoon chores. You dress slowly, letting her finish first and leave you alone in the room.

You pull the backpack Tess had given you the night you came here out of the back of the closet. When she had handed it to you behind the skating rink, it was already packed with your clothes and any little trinkets you’d had in your room. She’d packed you a couple books but you noticed she hadn’t included the one Joel had given you on Christmas, the one you never read, the one you never even took to your room, the one you tried not to think about every time you saw it sitting on the mantle.

You had told her you would give Beth your room and she pulled this bag out of a wagon, ready to send you on your way. She was ready for you to go even if you weren’t, and so you went. That night. Without so much as a goodbye. You take that bag now and hold it by your legs, walking down the stairs to the basement as casually as possible.

When you come up from the basement, you run out to the barn to pretend to do your afternoon chores. Danny and Diego do anything you were expected to do and you spend time petting some of your favorite goats and hanging out in the hayloft. When the sun begins to set you rip a large piece of newspaper off the stack and climb down, sneaking out of the barn, down the lane, and to the creek.

It’s time to let go of another memory. Maybe your last one? This is a big one. You’ve been holding onto it, trying your best not to think of it, willing yourself to pass over it the way Joel’s eyes would pass over you on Sundays. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ve been unwilling to let it go. Until now. Now it’s time.

You let yourself remember the night…

You’d already let him into your pants in the hallway after the meeting a few weeks prior, and you knew that fucking him was an eventuality. That week the meeting ended late and every other person shuffled out of the meeting hall before you had even finished putting the chairs away. Joel stood at the door, holding it open for the last farmer and his son, letting the cold, snowy air pour in as he said his goodbyes.

When he quietly closed the door, he turned to the open, empty room and looked you in the eyes. He reached over and flipped all the light switches, casting the room in sudden darkness. With no time for your eyes to adjust you were temporarily blind, hands immediately out at your front, searching, waiting for him to sneak up on you. Your nervous giggle is interrupted by the flick and hiss of a match and then he’s right there, only a couple feet in front of you, lighting a candle.

He leans over and sets it on the ground and then brings his match to a second candle. He repeats this process until there is a wide circle of what must be a dozen burning lights surrounding you both on the floor. He steps inside the circle, holds out his hand for yours, and you swear you can hear music when he pulls you in tight to his body and begins swaying back and forth with you.

This is new, being alone together like this. You’ve never been anywhere so quiet with him. At home it’s hardly ever quiet, and even when you do get time alone with him, it always seems to be interrupted. If you go home right now, he goes to his bedroom, you go to yours, and the night ends – but here, dancing in his arms amidst the flames, time slows down.

“You’ve been keeping secrets from me, Joel,” you’d teased.

“Oh?”

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you’d said, your head resting on his body.

He grazed his lips across your cheek, placing kisses as he moved them to your ear.

“Maybe this is what we’d do on our first date,” he’d whispered.

“Dinner and dancing?”

“Dancing and breakfast,” he corrects.

“Breakfast?”

“The next morning,” he smiles, and you do too, and then he kisses you.

That kiss held a million promises. It made you forget everything that happened before him. That was when you knew you were in love with him. The earth stood still and everything else faded away. The warm circle of light illuminated you both and made the rest of the room seem even darker. Nothing outside that circle mattered. You were the only two people on earth. You existed only for each other.

He must have known it, at that moment, he must have been able to tell. It was obvious, wasn’t it? Your body went limp in his arms and you let every last trace of doubt and fear leave your body, submitting to your desire for him. Submitting to his desire for you. All pretense of dancing was given up and your passionate kisses became deeper.

He held you tight and slowly began to remove your clothing, calling you baby and whispering adorations to you in the flickering glow of the candlelight. Holding your breasts in his massive hands, he dipped his head to your chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and circling it with his tongue. He sucked the bud past his teeth and lightly bit down, soothing it with the flat of his tongue while you dragged your nails across his scalp, mewling at his ministrations.

It wasn’t until he finally got you completely naked that you’d realized he was still fully dressed. You kept trying to touch the front of his pants like you’d done before but he wouldn’t let anything but your pleasure be the focus. He let you grind yourself on him, his hands grabbing your ass, pushing you on his thigh, using his body for friction as you continued to makeout, but he wouldn’t let you give his cock any attention.

He slowly sunk you both down to the cold linoleum floor and at last began to unbutton his shirt. He shucked his flannel down his arms, leaving his undershirt on, and spread it out on the floor beside you. Using his hands to guide you, he positioned you on your hands and knees overtop his shirt.

You remember the feel of the soft green flannel under your knees, the cold air hitting the wetness that had smeared down your inner thighs, his burning hot hands running down your back to grab and spread your ass, and the gentle kisses he placed all over you. You could barely make out the quiet things he was saying he was going to do to you, it almost felt like he was talking to himself.

I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. I’m gonna take care of you. Let me taste you, baby.

You had your head turned, watching him, until he bent down and began licking you. You closed your eyes as your face went red-hot with embarrassment that another person was seeing you like this, had his mouth on you there. You’d had boys put their mouth on your pussy before but never like this. Never with your most intimate parts spread wide and on display, a face buried in them and devouring you.

The boys before had laid you on your back and bobbed their head up and down, taking halting, tentative licks. You had waited for it to feel like it was supposed to, watching them fumbling in your folds only to give up mere minutes later, moving along to chase their own pleasure as if what they just did was anything close to what you wanted. Giving you just a glimpse of what it could be but never delivering what you needed, as if the act itself was perfunctory, just a means to an end. This was different.

Joel wasn’t tentative and he wasn’t fumbling. Joel knew exactly what he was doing, knew right where and how to touch you. Almost immediately your shame turned to pleasure as he lapped at you gently, swollen and extra-sensitive in anticipation as you were. This was what it was supposed to feel like. This is how a man was supposed to touch you. You began to moan and he pulled his face back a little, kissing and nuzzling your ass cheeks while bringing his hands to spread you again.

So fucking beautiful, you are so fucking beautiful here. Look how wet you are for me, baby. Can you feel this? Can you feel it? Do you know how beautiful you are?

You couldn’t even bring yourself to tell him to stop calling you beautiful because the next thing he did was slowly slide two fingers into your gushing hole. The sting of the stretch was eased by the pleasure of the fullness, his thick fingers taking up so much space inside you, pushing on your walls. You felt wetness practically flowing out of you and you thought it must be dripping down his hand. Before you could feel any embarrassment his fingers began to shift out and back in, and you immediately thought about how good his cock would feel filling you up like this, making you moan long and loud.

Yes baby, let me hear you, tell me how it feels. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need.

You managed to blabber something about needing him to touch you there, somehow still too shy - despite your current condition – to say the word clit to him. You didn’t have to, he knew what you needed. He pulled his fingers out and you heard him shuffle around and when you worked up the courage to look backwards you saw his knees sticking up behind you. Oh shit. You looked down, underneath you instead. He’d positioned himself laying on his back, face up, directly under your cunt. You had never had anyone do this to you.

Come on baby, sit back. No, shhhh, it’s alright. Just lower yourself down a little, just like that baby. I need to eat this pussy. I need you, please.

He guided you down by your hips until his lips made contact with your core. You were too scared to put your full weight on him so you remained leaned forward a bit on your hands, hovering just above his head with shaking thighs, despite his incessant pulling on your ass downward and moaning into your wet heat. His lips closed around your sensitive bud and you felt him begin to gently suck on it.

You couldn’t believe he was doing this. You were dizzy with desire. Never in your life had anyone had their mouth on you like this, like they were making out with your cunt. You alternated between feverishly throwing your head back and lowering your chin to your chest to greedily take in the sight of him ravenously eating you. You had never felt such blinding pleasure at the hands of another and you couldn’t stop yourself from wailing in ecstasy. You watched him pull away from you to take deep, gulping breaths, licking his lips of your wetness spread all over the lower half of his face.

Sit down baby, you can sit on my face. Just relax, I’m gonna make you feel so good. I know what you need, baby. I’m gonna take care of you. You taste so good, so fuckin’ sweet. This pussy was made for me.

You were trying not to sit down on his face, trying not to suffocate him, trying not to think about what a fucking mess he was making of you and you of himself. When he slowly pushed his thick fingers back inside your wet clutch, any and all thoughts left your head completely. He increased the suction of his mouth on your clit and began to flick the tip of his tongue up and down, maintaining a steady tempo of stimulating your clit and fucking you on his fingers.

The pace he set was bringing you closer to your release – for the first time in your life you were able to push everything else out of your mind and focus on your own pleasure. You sat back on your knees a bit more, putting more weight onto him and letting his hands hold you at your hips. You reached between your legs to run your fingers through his hair, wanting to give him a fraction of the intimacy he was giving you. You could hardly believe it. This was how sex was supposed to feel. This is why people liked it so much. This is why it meant so much. You had never felt anything close to this. This was everything.

Never faltering in his movements, never breaking his rhythm, he carried you higher and higher, finally cresting over your peak. Head thrown back and gripping his hair in your fists, fireworks burst behind your eyes as his name poured out of your mouth. You let him guide your hips in slow, smooth movements across his face, riding out the waves of your climax.

With muffled groans he continued to eat you through your orgasm, grabbing handfuls of your ass and reaching up to pinch your nipples until his insatiable attention became overwhelming and started to sting, causing you to shrink away from his touch. He pulled back then, gently turned you on your back – still on top of his flannel – and you leaned back on your elbows as he moved back to your cunt, gently lapping up your release.

You couldn’t believe how good it still felt, his hot tongue gently rasping against your swollen lips, his wet breath panting across your core. He was still moaning into you, the vibrations a pleasant sensation as he licked up everything you could give him. He placed kisses on your inner thighs and over your mound before rising to help you up and get back into your clothes. It wasn’t until the next day that you’d realized Joel must have left your underwear somewhere scattered on the floor and had blushed, hoping that whoever found them later wouldn’t know it was you who’d lost them.

You did so good, baby, that was so good. You were so beautiful. You tasted so good. So good, baby.

You briefly noticed there was a wet stain on the front of his pants but you weren’t sure if it was from him or from you. He locked up and then carried you back to the house that night, your legs were complete jello. You were pretty sure Tess was still up when you got back but you couldn’t think about the state she saw you in, all you could think about was him. He’d put you down on the porch at your insistence but he still had to help you up the stairs to your room. You’d fallen into bed and were asleep within minutes.

That was the night you knew you were all-in. You gave yourself over to him completely. Even though you didn’t have sex, you knew you would have. You would have done anything for him, let him do anything to you. You would have let him ruin you. You were ready to give up every part of you, and knew you would have sex with him soon, knew that it was inevitable. That was the night you placed your heart into his massive hands and left it with him so that he could mangle it to pieces and leave you a broken person.

But even that’s not a fair assessment, is it? That’s not a correct memory. You were always a broken person. He didn’t cause it and he never could have fixed it. There was something inside you that was irreparable. It was never his job to fulfill your needy fantasies. You can be mad at him for lying to you but you need to face your own part in this. You did this to yourself. You put yourself in this position.

The only solution is to remove yourself from the equation. You don’t belong here, you never did. You probably don’t really belong anywhere. You’re not meant to be with him. He can’t fucking save you. You have to save yourself. You have to find your own way. You have to leave. You have to leave.

You focus on the feel of the delicate, aged paper in your hands, the soft squeaking noises it makes as you push it into your palm, the way you push it back and forth in your hands to get it as small as possible. Then you hold it in between your thumb and forefinger, hold your arm out over the water, and drop it in. You watch as the ball is quickly overtaken by moisture, pulled under the surface, and carried away on the current.

–

In the dimming light of dusk you can see inside the farmhouse quite well. Lit by lanterns, you see Laurel through the kitchen window, working with Amber to fix dinner as Hank sits in his chair in the living room reading his bible. You turn your head and see the two ranch hands in the far field, herding the goats into their shed for the night. No one is looking for you.

You pick up your backpack from the ground and secure it over your shoulders, walking down the lane for the last time, never to return.

🖤

Thank you so so so much to my amazing editor, @papipascalispunk, for helping me with this series, even when you're sick and high on cold medicine 🫂You're the fucking A-1 steak sauce.

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin @heimtathurss @untamedheart81 @pixielou5 @feel1n-h1gh @elegantduckturtle @koshkaj-blog

#devotion series #cult leader joel miller #noxturnalpascal #ofc!reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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malfoysprinces · 1 year

Text

friends, best friends, friends in love

- draco malfoy -

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin Reader

Summary: Two friends in love, eventually confessing.

Warnings: Jealousy, Hiding Feelings but with a happy ending.

Word Count: 3.5k

Author’s Note: It’s my first time writing, feel free to give feedbacks & request.

Slytherin common room was quiet on this particular night, saved for the sound of the fire crackling in the fireplace. The room was dimly lit, casting a warm, flickering light on the walls.

Y/N was sitting, peacefully by the fire all on her own until she heard his voice.

“Y/N”

With a look full of hesitation, she stared right into those grey eyes.

Oh, those grey eyes…

“Hey Draco!”

“What are you doing up this late?”

“Nothing, couldn’t sleep.”

“Come on, go to your dorm, don’t make me take any points from my own house.” Draco said, laughing.

“But I can’t sleep.” Y/N responded.

“My friends are such pain in the ass.”Draco whispered.

Yeah, your friend.

Y/N giggled.

Just when they were headed to stairs which led the way to their dorms, a familiar face appeared.

“Oh, hi Theo.” Y/N said to him.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, this night is never going to end does it?” Asked Draco, looking tired.

“And goodnight to you too, Draco.” said Theo.

“I’m going to the Astronomy Tower, care to join?” Theo asked to both.

“Why not?” Y/N answered, hoping Draco would come.

“As your prefect I should lead you guys to your dorms, but as your friend I could really use a calming time with you guys.” Answered Draco.

Friend. There was that word again.

“Actually, I remembered that I have Snape’s potions in the morning and I could really use some sleep.” Y/N said without knowing why she wanted to get away from them- oh actually, Draco. Poor Theo had nothing to do with it. In fact he was always nice to Y/N, he was always a gentleman.

“As you wish.” Theo said.

“Are you sure?” Draco asked to Y/N.

“Yeah” Y/N answered, forcing a yawn to make believe she is sleepy.

She headed to girls dorm without looking back.

When she entered into her dorm room, Pansy and Daphne were already sleeping.

She looked at herself in the mirror, wondering why everytime Draco called her “a friend” her heart was shattered into pieces.

Y/N was distant to Draco lately. She was avoiding him at all costs. Whenever they sit together at a class, she would always ignore him, not in an arrogant way but in an cold way. Draco -being the smartest boy Y/N has ever seen- has started to realize this. He has been sensing that Y/N was drawing herself away from him for some time now.

But Y/N was forgetting something, she was the first person for Draco to come when he was feeling down. She was the first person that Draco writes to every summer. She was practically Draco’s closest but he never addressed her anything other than friend.

To him, “Draco and she was friends, nothing more. They just hang in the same group. Y/N was a friend to Draco as much as she was to Theo or Blaise.” Y/N thought to herself.

Y/N wanted to tell Draco how she felt, how she was longing for his touch without knowing how it feels, how she needs him. But there was too much at stake. She could lose Draco forever, she could lose the bond between them forever. So she decided to keep things to herself and keep her distance from Draco.

With so much going on in her head, Y/N went to her bed and fell asleep quickly.

Next morning wasn’t any different than others. The sun was shining into girls shared dorm.

“Oh! I can’t find my tie!” shouted Pansy in a hurry.

“Just check your desk, I saw it there last night.” said Daphne.

“Found it!” Pansy shouted again.

Y/N was still half asleep when Daphne came to her side and reminded her that if she didn’t want detention from Snape, she should be up in a minute.

She got ready in a hurry, causing her to forget her potions book in her dorm.

Girls entered the Great Hall for breakfast.

“Well, well, well.. If these aren’t the princesses of Slytherin.” Blaise said in a flirty tone.

“Morning.” said Theo.

And a simple smile from Draco.

Y/N smiled to Draco back and rolled her eyes to Blaise.

“Was he always like that?” Y/N asked. “Because if he was, I should really consider my friend choices.” she said in a laughy tone.

“Oh, if you call that a flirting, you should have seen Draco last night in the Astronomy Tower.” Theo said.

Of course, they weren’t alone. Of course, Theo was going to meet up with a girl last night and Draco wanted some company, as well.

“Shut it already Theo.” said Draco.

“Who is it this time Draco?” asked Pansy.

“Yes, tell us who the lucky lady was.” added Daphne.

Y/N was holding her tears back, not only because of Draco’s new girl but also she couldn’t believe how easily Draco affected her. He goes around flirting with other girls and Y/N ends up the one being hurt. How unfair Y/N thought to herself.

Y/N had seen nothing but pure love between her parents. She was raised the best way possible. Indeed, she was a pure blood, she came from a wealthy family - why else would Draco befriend her?- and she was pretty. She could pull of any guy she wanted. Any guy but him.

She could get any guy wrapped around her finger, any guy but the one with the grey eyes.

However, it was kind of funny how she was oblivious to Draco’s feelings. She meant everything to him, he would take her in a heartbeat if she said yes. His whole world revolving around her. Draco was the one to keep his feelings bottled up, that was for sure. But still, the fact that he cares about Y/N more than any other girl was obvious.

“Y/N?” asked Pansy.

No answer.

“Y/N!!??”

“Oh, sorry.” Y/N said.

“But you missed all the fun, Draco couldn’t even remember that girl’s name.” Said Pansy.

And just seconds later, everyone burst into laughter.

“Yeah poor girl must be thinking of Draco right now, but he doesn’t even remember her name.” said Daphne, giggling.

“ For Merlin’s sake! I only flirted with her so Theo could have his time with that girl’s friend.” Draco said in a serious tone staring to Y/N.

“Good boy, aren’t you?” said Y/N in a condescending tone which made Draco angrier.

It was safe to say that Draco stared into Y/N’s soul for a time which felt like an eternity for both.

Only if he knew what Y/N would do to be the one that Draco flirted- even if it is all fake.

“So now it is a staring contest?” asked Blaise laughing.

“No. And I dont even have the time for your - and I mean ALL of you- stupid crushes.” Y/N said.

“What? What crush are you talking about?” asked Draco.

“Shit! I must have left my potions book in my dorm” Y/N said. She was headed for dorm room.

Not long after, Y/N was pulled into an empty classroom.

“WHA-“ Y/N’s shout was interrupted.

“What is wrong with you?” asked Draco.

“I don’t know what you are talking abo-“ she was interrupted again.

“Oh, cut the bullshit already! You ditch on me and Theo last night and you have been off all morning?” asked Draco.

“I- erm- I am really worried about Snape’s class you know?” she lied.

“So this is what it’s all about.” said Draco. “I thought you were mad at me or something.” he added.

“You have been distant lately. It’s like one minute you are the center of the conversation, and you are gone in the next.” Draco said, worried.

“Told you, I have been struggling with potions.”

That was the best I could come up with? She thought to herself. I must be a disgrace to the house of Slytherin.

“I will help you, okay? Meet me in the library after dinner.” said Draco.

“No- I mean you dont have to.” she said.

“No, I need to fix whats bothering my best friend.” Draco winked.

Your WHAT? Now, we are best friends. If there is something worse than being friends with him existed then it would totally be being best friends with him.

“Come on, we need to get to class.” Added Draco.

Potions was boring for Y/N. Until Snape assigned the homework. A homework which was needed to be done with partners.

“I will assign your partners this time.” said Snape.

“Miss Granger, you are with Mr Longbottom.”

“Miss Y/L/N, you are with…..

“Mr Malfoy” Y/N prayed.

“Mr. Potter.” Snape said.

The anger in Draco’s eyes was visible, if not, it was felt by every single person in class. However, no one dared to state the obvious.

“Oh shit. Now it is getting interesting.” Blaise said to Theo.

“Yeah, just wait till the class is over and Draco starts whining about it.” said Theo.

As Harry walked closer to Y/N, Draco was already watching them.

Y/N and Harry greeted and started to talk about the project.

Whenever Y/N looked to Draco, he was already watching her.

But this time something was different. Draco’s eyes was not filled with the warmth that Y/N was used to see, instead it was filled with something she couldn’t name.

It was jealousy. So much jealousy that he could explode any minute now.

Slytherin group was already gone when Y/N and Potter realized that the class is over. As a matter of fact, everyone was gone and they were alone in the classroom.

“I must have lost the track of time.” said Y/N to Potter.

“Yeah. Seems we both did.” he agreed.

They rushed to outside.

“If Potter is that interesting, you can always go be his friend.” said Draco to Y/N. He has been standing outside the classroom waiting for Y/N, this whole time.

“What? We were just talking about the project.” said Y/N.

“Yeah? That must be the reason you couldn’t care to join your friends when leaving the class.” Draco said, angrily.

“Oh, possesiveness is a trait of yours, isn’t it?” Y/N asked mocking.

“Potter is my red line. Do. Not. Cross. It.” Draco said in the most serious tone possible, grabbing Y/N’s wrist.

“Too bad, he. İs my. Partner” Y/N said jokingly.

Little did they both knew, they had already crossed the red line in each other’s hearts.

“So, why do I even need to mix these things?”

“Like what on earth am I going to need these potion for?” Y/N asks, pretending to be oblivious to keep her lie going.

“Just try to memorize the ingredients and you will be okay.” Draco assured.

“Okay.” said knowing everything Draco has been telling her since the minute one.

“By the way, I really don’t understand why you stress over potions. You are the smartest witch I know.” said Draco lifting his eyebrows.

“I don’t know, it is not the class that stresses me, it is the professor. Snape is tense, you know?” Y/N shouted another lie.

“What? He is practically one of your father’s best friends. They’ve known each other since they were what? Like 11?” Draco asked.

“Yeah but still, he was always so intimidating.” Was Y/N’s answer.

“Truth to be told, I am his favourite, but you are not so bad yourself.” He said laughing.

“Well, I know he likes us, he is better to us than others.” Y/N said agrreing.

“See? He’s not so bad after all.” Draco said.

Rest of their study session went on as a chat session. Things was always so easy and calming between Y/N and Draco.

“Merlin, I missed talking to you about anything-“ Draco was interrupted by Y/N “Let’s leave, I have to check Gullygum.” Said Y/N, Anything to avoid this confrontation she thought.

“Gullygum? As your cat?”

“Yeah Draco, how many other Gullygums do you know of?” teased Y/N as she was packing her things.

The night was calm. As they were headed to Slytherin common room together the only sound which can be heard was their footsteps. As they pass by the torches lining the walls, the flickering light casts shadows that seem to dance across their faces. The sound of Draco’s breathing and the rustle of Y/N’s clothing as they walk creates a gentle white noise, as if the whole world has fallen away and it's just the two of them.

“So.” Draco said breaking the silence.

“Now tell me, why have you been so distant lately. And don’t ever think about lying to me because it is obvious you have no problem with classes.” Draco asked.

“Oh for fucks sake Draco, everything is fine. Friends don’t push each other like that.” Y/N stated, emphasizing the word friends.

“Yeah, friends.” whispered to himself Draco. But Y/N didn’t hear a thing for she was so tired with Draco pushing her to confess.

As the first beams of sunlight filtered through the small windows of the Slytherin dungeons, the house's green and silver shades appeared to come to life.

“Wake up! Today’s the day!” Daphne shouted to Pansy and Y/N.

“What day?” Y/N asked, half asleep.

“Are you serious? You forgot about it?” Pansy asked her.

“About what?”

“About the PARTY YOU SILLY!” Daphne shouted.

Oh, shoot. It’s today! The party which was organized by Daphne and Pansy, the party they couldn’t stop talking about.

The girls were already headed to Great Hall when Y/N was done dressing up.

As usual, the boys of Slytherin was waiting for their princesses at the table.

Pansy and Daphne wouldn’t stop talking about the party, how they have been planning this for weeks if not months.

In the middle of their conversation, an owl dropped a box to Y/N. The box had a letter.

You deserve the world. We love & miss you.

Mom & Dad.

And the letter made Y/N realize how homesick she was. She loved Hogwarts, she loved her friends and she loved her Draco but something about her parent’s letter made her miss her home. Maybe it was how the words they use reminded Mr and Mrs. Y/L/N’s relationship to their daughter. They had something Y/N admired. One day she dreams of having with Draco.

“Will you open it already?” said Blaise.

“Oh, let me just-“ she was interrupted by Pansy.

“OH. MY. GOD.” shouted Pansy.

“THAT MUST HAVE COST A FORTUNE.” said Daphne in a shock.

“This is so nice.” Said Draco.

“Aww, thank you guys. I must write them back as soon as I can.” Said Y/N heading towards the exit of the Great Hall.

“I envy how your father cares about you. I guess it is different when you are a girl.” Says a familiar voice.

“OH- You scared me.” Said Y/N shaking.

“Just cool darling.” Said Draco.

“I got this memory of us kids in my head. When we both fell of our broomsticks how your father ran towards you and mine just mocked me.” Said Draco.

“Oh, Dray, I’m sure you are remembering wrong.” Y/N said.

“Yeah, maybe.” Draco said.

The rest of the day went on as usual, the classes and stuff. In the evening there was a rush in girls dorm. Y/N had already picked her dress and she was getting ready for the party when she heard a knock on the door.

“Do you think you can help me with my tie- WHOA.. You look..erm- pretty.” Said Draco. “Heavenly” he whispered to himself.

“Oh, thank you. Yes I sure can.” Y/N said leaning towards him.

There was an undeniable tension and chemistry between them. Their lips were just inches apart. Draco’s grey eyes were fixated on Y/N’s eyes. The more they stay this close, the more Y/N’s hand shook. This was the closeness they were both longing for. It was almost like Draco didn’t want to let her go. Almost.

“So, I was thinking that we can go to party together since I am already here.” Said Draco.

“Yeah, yeah let me just grab my purse.” Y/N agreed.

The Slytherin common room was transformed into a grand party hall, decorated with green and silver banners, glittering streamers, and shining orbs that floated above the dance floor. The room was alive with the sound of music, laughter, and clinking of glasses, as the students of Slytherin danced and chatted, all in their finest clothes. The grand staircase leading to the upper levels of the castle provided the perfect stage for the hosts to make their grand entrance, clad in their finest robes and basking in the admiration of their guests. It was a Slytherin party atmosphere unlike any other, full of luxury, power, and excitement.

Draco instinctively put his hand on Y/N’s back, like he wanted to show everyone who she belonged to. Y/N was shivering for she was longing Draco’s touch for some time now.

Not so long after, a group of Slytherins decided to play the game of spin the bottle. Y/N and Draco were among the group, both secretly hoping the bottle would point to each other.

As the game progressed, the bottle spun round and round, landing on various members of the group. Finally, it was Y/N’s turn. The bottle spun and spun, seeming to take forever to come to a stop. When it finally did, it was pointed towards Cedric Diggory, who grinned eagerly.

Without a second thought, Cedric leaned in for a kiss. Y/N closed her eyes, allowing the kiss to happen.

Draco, who had been watching the entire thing with a scowl, could feel his anger about to boil over. He didn't know why he felt so strongly about Y/N , but he did, and seeing her kiss someone else fueled a fire deep within him.

“My turn.” said Blaise eagerly.

“I am going to call it a night.” said Draco not even glancing a side eye to Y/N.

Guilt was growing inside Y/N’s heart. But she didn’t have any choice. It was all a game after all.

Rest of the party was a usual Slytherin party. With the shock of Draco leaving the party so early, Y/N decided to call it a night, as well.

Next morning, Y/N wanted to see if Draco is doing okay. So before heading to Great Hall for breakfast she decided to stop by Draco’s dorm.

As she knocked on the door, a girl she didn't recognize opened the door of Draco's room.

“Hello?” She asked

“Who is it?” Draco shouted.

“Um-I wanted to-um…” Y/N was stunned. For a moment, she thought she can actually heart the breaking noise of her heart.

Draco came to the door and when he saw Y/N standing, he was frozen. It was clear that he spent the night with this girl.

“We can talk later.” Said Y/n, heartbroken, and jealous at the same time.

She was holding her tears back while walking to Great Hall. Not angry but heartbroken.

Just when she sat to breakfast, she felt a familiar voice approaching.

“Hey, Y/N.” said Cedric.

“Hi Cedric.” said Y/N.

“Is not that the guy she kisses last night?” asked Blaise.

Daphne nodded.

“Can I talk to you in private?” Cedric asked.

“Sure.”

They were headed to the exit of the Great Hall when Y/N felt Draco’s eyes on her when he was walking by.

“So, what is it that you want to ask?” Y/N said.

“I know this might sound ridicolus but I can’t stop thinking about our kiss last night. I was wondering if you would like yo go on a date with me?” “If you would give us the chance to get to know each other better.” Asked Cedric, hesitation can be seen from all over his face.

With the jealousy and broken heart, Y/N didn’t even think for a moment.

“ Yes Cedric.” she smiled.

“Oh, I’m happy now. I will pick you up after dinner tomorrow, so we can go for a drink at Hogsmeade?”

“Sounds like the perfect date.” nodded Y/N.

It clearly was an impulsive decision. It. Clearly. Was. Cedric didn’t even catch Y/N’s attention for once. Except last night, when she had to kiss him. She didn’t had the choice unlike Draco. Draco had the choice to not drag a girl to his dorm.

“What did he want?” Asked Pansy.

“A date.” Y/N answered.

“ A DATE?” Pansy shouted. “Not a chance” she added.

“Actually, I-“ Y/N was imterrupted.

“ Oh no you didn’t” Pansy said.

“ Sure as hell, I did.” Y/N said walking to class.

The next day went on as quickly. Y/N was getting ready for her date when it crossed her mind that she hadn’t seen Draco over a day. For them, it was a record. They were practically inseperable. Not so long ago, at least.

Y/N was headed to Great Hall to meet Cedric when she looked up and saw Draco, Theo and Pansy was sitting by the fireplace just chatting casually.

“Ready for you date?” Pansy asked which caused Draco to look at Y/N angrily.

“What date?” Theo responded.

“Oh, didn’t you hear, she is going on a date with Diggory,” Pansy answered.

“Lucky man got to steal our girl, didn’t he Draco?” Said theo.

Draco didn’t respond, he just nodded. As far as anyone can see, he was devastated.

As Y/N got back from her date, it was already pass midnight. The castle was so quiet as she walked to the dungeons of Slytherin. Y/N opened the door to the common room, only to find out Draco sitting where she left him hours ago.

The fireplace crackling sound in the midnight echoes throughout the empty Slytherin common room, adding an eerie quality to the scene. The pops and crackles of the fire seem to reverberate off the walls, creating an almost hypnotic rhythm that feels both calming and unsettling.

Did he waited for her to get back from her date?

As he waits, he stares into the flames, lost in thought. The sound of the fire is the only thing that breaks the silence of the room, and it's as if the fire is the only company he has.

The sound of the fire crackling is also a reminder of the late hour, creating a sense of intimacy and secrecy that seems fitting for the moment.

As Draco waits for you to return, the sound of the fire crackling grows softer and more gentle. It's as if the fire is signaling that something new is about to happen, that a new chapter is about to begin.

“I know I messed up.” said Draco in a rather sad voice.

“I know it should have been me who took you on this date.” he added.

The sound of the fire becomes louder and more chaotic, mirroring the rush of feelings that Y/N is experiencing. It crackles and pops, adding a layer of intensity to the moment. The flames seem to grow brighter, casting an orange glow across the room and making everything feel more dramatic.

Despite the chaos of the fire, Draco's words are clear and heartfelt.

“I know it should have been me who gets to call you his girlfriend.” he finally looked up to Y/N who was in a total shock.

“Draco” she whispered.

“I love you, Y/N Y/L/N.” he whispered. “I have always loved you and only you.”

“And I love you Draco Malfoy.” she added. “I have always waited for you and only you.”

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sciencebecameouraddiction · 1 month

Note

I would like to request something…Could I ask for Sir Pentious and Angel Dust reacting to a reader who has severe arachnophobia and ophidiophobia? Like just seeing them sends the reader into a near panic attack? Maybe they help us get over our phobias, or the rest of the Hazbin staff help us?

If you don’t want to do this request I completely understand and I hope you have a great day/night!

i’m answering this with headcanons! this was kind of a challenge so i hope i did this justice!

I hope you enjoy anon!

warnings: arachnophobia and ophidiophobia (fear of spiders and snakes, in that order)

angel dust

when you saw angel at first, you may or may not have screamed.

all the legs, the multiple eyes… angel was a spider and you were terrified of spiders.

you felt faint, your breathing was not cooperating. you may have fainted.

it took a lot of coaxing into getting out why you were freaking out and then angel felt horrible

he would try and avoid you, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

charlie would definitely try to work you through your fear.

alastor would be a little shit and when he was bored he’d just magically create a spider running up the wall

(when you found out about his aversion to dogs it was all over and dog pushes started to appear everywhere. pay backs a bitch old man!)

finally, you felt ready, with much anxiety to actually talk to angel.

this helped the most. talking to angel. your fear started subsiding even quicker after that.

pentious

he was kind of offended when you saw him and screeched.

and then vomited.

he was very offended then

it took coercing from charlie but she realized you and snakes were like oil and water

you stayed away from pentious after that.

you saw him at a group activity, you weren’t going.

he’s at the bar?

hell no, guess you don’t need a drink

pentious wanted to be your friend though damn it!

he saw you with the others and he wanted to be friends with you and show you drawings and fun things

so he started sending his egg bois to give you little drawings

they’d give books he had read and enjoyed.

you essentially conversed with eachother through egg boi post.

until one day, at a group activity, you came down the stairs. sat next to pentious and asked him about the book he had given you that morning.

he was shocked

everyone shocked.

but he was so happy and you both chatted well into the day

you still won’t touch him though, vaggie said he was slimed and you drew the line there.

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rookie98writes · 15 days

Text

How Could You? —Chapter 1—

Part of the For Your Own Good Series Prev Work → Next Chapter

Relationship: Hatake Kakashi x fem!Reader

Rating: General

Warnings: mostly just fluff so far, a little canon angst, POV Kakashi. canon rewrite. self-ship coded; please see author's note on series page if you are unfamiliar with plot-significant characteristics of reader.

Word Count: 2.6k

Work Summary: After waking from Itachi's Mangekyo Sharingan attack, Kakashi finds there is still a lot of work to do; in rebuilding the village, restoring trust within his team, and in being honest with you. But will his efforts strengthen those bonds, or will everything only get worse?

AO3 Link

“Let's see…what else did you miss?”

You sat beside Kakashi on his bed, your head resting on his shoulder and your hand tracing gentle patterns along his palm. It had only been a few hours since Lady Tsunade had returned to the village and fixed him up, and she had barely left before word somehow got to you that he was awake and healthy.

When Tsunade had explained to Kakashi how long he’d been unconscious since Itachi’s attack, he felt ashamed. All that time, wasted. He should have avoided getting caught in that jutsu. But he was thankful his comrades and students were safe, despite feeling like he’d done nothing to help.

And when he saw you, every feeling was replaced with guilt for how worried you’d been.

But everything had been forgiven in a flutter of kisses, his hands and mouth both more eager than his recovering muscles could keep up with. Eventually, kisses morphed into conversation; you excitedly filling him in on everything that had happened throughout the village while he’d been asleep. Truthfully, it was probably more information than he was concerned with. But Kakashi was more than happy to spend time with you in any way. Even if it involved listening to stories of people he wasn’t even sure he’d ever met, he’d still take it.

His muscles ached from the lack of use. He was just about to ask if you wanted to continue this conversation on a walk when you were suddenly distracted. A tiny sparrow tapped on the window, drawing your attention. “Awww,” you cooed, “look at that little bird.”

“Hmmm,” Kakashi sighed, recognizing the signal. “Another mission already.”

“Wait, so soon? But you’ve barely recovered!”

“Well, we lost so many shinobi to Orochimaru’s attack. Those of us left just have to work harder to make up for it.”

“That explains why Iruka has been so hard to get a hold of lately. I guess he’ll be busy with missions for a while, at least until we get the Academy rebuilt.”

“We?” he asked, working on securing the wraps around his ankles. “I thought you said you were working on getting Ichiraku up and running.”

“I am. But the volunteers fixing up the Academy needed help, so if I split my time and work one shift in the morning and one—”

He leaned in to kiss your temple. “Don’t overwork yourself.”

“I could say the same to you, you know.”

“I’ll be fine,” he promised with a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth. “I hate to cut this short, but I’d better head out.”

“Right.” You kissed his mouth, delaying him for as long as you dared before pulling away. “I love you. Please be careful.”

“I will.”

And I love you too.

The words were on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to say them. He was ready to say them. He realized he had loved you this entire time, and he wanted to tell you. He just needed to move his jaw, vibrate his vocal cords, and say the words.

But then you stood up, and made your way to the bedroom door. And his chance was gone.

“Walk me out?”

“Of course.”

He stayed by your side as you walked to the front door of his apartment, wishing he had more time to spend with you before being sent out again. But this was the life he’d chosen, and people were counting on him.

“See you when you’re back.”

And with that, you gave him one last sweet smile before walking out. His heart tugged in his chest as he watched you leave. But he just needed to focus on this mission, and then he could come home and spend some time with you.

First, though, he needed to check on his students. Tsunade had told him all about what happened between Naruto and Kabuto in Tanzaku Town, and Sakura was sure to be worried about Sasuke’s health. Kakashi knew that Tsunade had healed Sasuke before making the house call to his apartment for both treatment and a lecture. But Sasuke would probably still be recovering in the hospital. At least Naruto wasn’t hurt.

When Kakashi arrived at the hospital, the medic-nins directed him to Sasuke’s room. He could tell that something was wrong before he even made it to the doorway. The room was empty, and when he went in to investigate, all he found was an abandoned bed and a few apple slices browning on the floor. Judging by the color, they couldn’t have been there long.

Kakashi closed his eye and focused on the smells and sounds surrounding him. He picked up Naruto’s scent, along with Sakura and Sasuke’s. He knew the room was in disarray, and he couldn’t imagine Sakura doing that, so it must have been Naruto and Sasuke fighting, yet again.

But where did they go? Had they been kicked out? Sasuke hadn’t been discharged yet, and the staff seemed to think he was still here. The roof.

He was up there in the blink of an eye, finding Naruto and Sasuke charging at each other with dangerous amounts of chakra, Sakura shouting for them to stop and running right for them. Sasuke was aiming a huge amount of Chidori, and Naruto—

Is that…

He grabbed each boy by the wrist and spun around, flinging them into the water reservoirs on the roof. It may not have been the most gentle choice he could have made, but if the two of them had made contact, who knows what could have happened. And Sakura would have been right in the middle of it. Gentle wouldn't have cut it, today.

“What are you two doing up here?!”

Sakura ran up to her sensei while her two male teammates groaned and pulled themselves away from the large tanks. Seeing the fear in her eyes nearly made Kakashi’s patience snap. This was the furthest thing from teamwork he’d ever seen.

But that jutsu…no doubt about it. The Rasengan. How is Naruto using that jutsu?

Sasuke stood, offering only a glance and a smirk in Naruto’s direction. While his student was distracted, Kakashi used the body flicker jutsu to jump on top the reservoir looming over Sasuke’s head.

“What do you think you’re doing, Sasuke?”

The boy startled and looked up at him, his expression quickly darkening from surprise to annoyance and anger.

“That Chidori wasn’t the size you’d aim at a comrade from the Leaf Village,” Kakashi continued. “Were you actually trying to kill Naruto?”

Sakura and Naruto both waited tensely for Sasuke’s explanation, but the boy’s answering silence was all the jōnin needed in order to understand. He must have taken that reunion with Itachi harder than anyone realized.

Instead of offering his teammates a word, Sasuke gruffly leapt off the roof, avoiding the situation all together, leaving Naruto looking betrayed and Sakura sobbing into her fists. Kakashi hung his head and tried to make sense of how Team 7 reached this low point, and how he could turn them back to the right path.

Suddenly, Kakashi felt a different yet familiar chakra signature. Jiraiya. I should have known.

“So, it was you who taught Naruto that jutsu?” he asked. “Don’t you think he’s a little young?”

“Look who’s talking,” Jiraiya responded. “That Chidori was pretty powerful too.”

Yeah. Got me there.

“Although,” Jiraiya continued, sounding a bit more serious, “I didn’t think he would throw it at a friend. Did I miss something between those two?”

“It’s complicated…” Kakashi began. “You of all people know how rivalries can be.”

Jiraiya hummed in understanding. “Jealousy is not a good sign. Maybe I should talk to him.”

“Then I’ll trust Naruto to you. I have to get on with a mission, but I’d better deal with Sasuke too.”

“Right.”

“Ka—” Sakura sniffled. “Kakashi-sensei…”

Kakashi jumped down from the tank and approached his female student with a smile on his face and confidence in this voice, hoping she couldn’t see how fragile both really were.

“Don’t worry. We’ll have the old Sasuke back in no time.”

Kakashi found Sasuke sitting on a high branch in one of the oldest trees in the village. At least he found some interesting places to brood every once in a while. But despite the time he’d had to cool off, the genin looked ready to lash out at the first person he saw.

It was obvious enough; Sasuke had recognized how much Naruto had grown, and it had been a tough pill for the Uchiha to swallow. Their rivalry had reached a dangerous tipping point.

Seems I’ll have to fit in some mentoring today, after all.

He silently unspooled a generous length of wire and attached a shuriken to the end. Then, when he threw the shuriken to loop around the tree, the wire held Sasuke to the trunk. Kakashi quickly jumped onto the branch, showing his student that he wasn’t truly in any danger. Despite that, Sasuke had an enraged look in his eyes as he looked up.

“What’s this all about?” Sasuke snarled.

“If I didn’t do it, you’d run.” The jōnin sensei kept his tone level. “You must admit, you're not the type to take a lecture willingly.” Not unlike I used to be.

Kakashi sighed. After what he’d just watched Sasuke do, he needed to get through to him. He didn’t want to reopen his own old wounds, but if he didn’t connect with his student, Sasuke would only see what Orochimaru told him to see.

Better get right to the point. “Sasuke, forget about getting revenge.”

The boy was only angrier upon hearing this advice, and Kakashi wished he’d been more surprised at the reaction. “Although,” he continued, “in my line of work, I've seen a lot of kids like you.” He had been tempted himself; looking for someone or something to blame throughout the toughest times of his life. More often than not, he found the blame belonged to himself.

But how do you seek out vengeance from yourself?

“The fate of those who seek revenge is never good. It’s quite tragic, actually. You’ll only end up hurting and suffering more than you are now. Even if your revenge is a success, all that will come of it is emptiness.”

His lonely years in the ANBU. The desperate fights he wished to lose. Having no one, for fear of losing them too.

“What do you know?!” Sasuke spat. “You think you’re a genius?”

Kakashi pulled on the wire. “Calm down.”

Sasuke chuckled, looking up at his Sensei with a worrisome look in his eye. “I could kill all the people most precious to you,” he growled. “Then you’d know just how wrong you are about me.”

Obito. Rin. Sensei.

As vivid as in his nightmares, images of his old team’s deaths flashed before his eyes. He couldn’t protect any of them. Those failures were his greatest shame as a shinobi. Kakashi had avoided talking about his past with his students so they wouldn’t know just how worthless their sensei really was. But it was something Sasuke needed to know, so he swallowed his pride and steeled himself.

“Well, I suppose you could…” His aching heart provided the answer that had been his undeniable truth for so long. “But unfortunately, I don’t have anyone special left. The ones most precious to me have already been killed.”

Sasuke’s face morphed into a mix of confusion and anger.

“I’ve lived longer than you. Times were tough back in my day. I know the pain of losing somebody more than I’d like to.”

“But—”

“Neither you nor I can be called lucky, that’s for sure. But we’re not the most unfortunate, either. You and I have both found precious friends, haven’t we?”

Sasuke was quiet for a minute, and Kakashi hoped he was thinking of his classmates. His teammates. Sakura and Naruto. Kakashi knew firsthand how much someone who was originally considered an annoyance could become a dear friend; one of the most important people in a person’s life. “You realize it after you lose them.”

Kakashi flicked his wrist to loosen the wire, seeing that a lot of the fight had drained from Sasuke’s eyes. “Chidori was a power I gave you because you found something important. That power is not to be aimed at a friend or used for revenge. You ought to know what that power should be used for.”

Protecting a person who is precious to you. Someone you love.

Instantly, he wasn’t thinking of Gai anymore. Or Sensei, or Obito or Rin. He could only think of you. The person most precious to him. The person he loved, yet for some reason—some irrelevant, nonsensical reason—he hadn’t told you.

And now he couldn’t wait another second.

“Think about whether what I said hit the mark or not.”

He rushed to your apartment, hoping you hadn’t needed to go anywhere else after you’d left his place.

People could be taken away at any time—Kakashi knew that better than anyone. Yet he’d been stubborn and closed off, refusing to let himself admit to you everything you meant to him, based on fears that he didn’t even remember.

He peeked in the window and saw you lounging on the sofa, reading a book. The girl I love.

“Y/N.”

You jumped, whipping toward the window with your hand over your chest. As soon as you registered him, your eyes softened and you let out a breath. “Kakashi?” You pushed the window open and allowed him in. “What are you doing back so soon? Is something wrong?”

He lowered his mask and crashed his lips into yours the second the obstacle was removed. You stayed still; shocked and surprised. But then you wrapped your arms around him and answered his kiss. When he broke away, he kept his lips over yours, so they would brush against you as he finally said what he should have said weeks ago.

“I love you.”

You gasped, inhaling the words into your lungs. Kakashi thought he could hear the rhythm of your heart go a little haywire as you leaned back with a giddy smile. Then you let out a chuckle, something between elation and apprehension. He understood how this probably seemed to be coming out of nowhere.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to tell you,” he said. “I just had to…get out of my head.”

“Kashi, I…are you sure?” you whispered. “You don’t have t—"

“I’m sure, Y/N,” he promised. “I've been sure for a while, but I was just afraid of…well, a lot, honestly. But, I love you.”

That gorgeous smile stretched across your face. “I love you too.”

His smile matched yours before he kissed you again. “Okay. I’d better get out of here before my tardiness gets me in trouble.”

You giggled. “Mmmm, bye Kashi.”

He stole one last peck before covering his face again and climbing onto your windowsill. “I should only be a couple of days,” he said, crouching to be ready to spring up on the roof for quicker travel. But then he looked at you, and he couldn’t resist telling you one more time. “I love you, Y/N.”

A fresh coat of pink ripened your cheeks. “I love you, Kakashi.”

He could stay here all day repeating it back to you, but he forced himself to go. The last thing he wanted right now was to start a cycle of back-to-back missions, but it was for the good of the village. To protect you. To protect the woman he loved, and who loved him.

It was the happiest he’d been in a long time, and he couldn’t wait to come back.

► masterlist

#kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #hatake kakashi x reader #kakashi fluff #kakashi angst #kakashi fanfiction #reader insert #rookie wrote

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mistydeyes · 9 months

Text

never grow up

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: Your husband's early death leaves you trying to put back the pieces together with your children. Yet at every milestone and after years of their passing, you're still reminded that they aren't here. Highkey inspired by Never Grow Up (TS Version), this song would literally always make me cry and I still listen to it on my drive back to college.

pairing: 141 x fem!Reader (continuation with the mum from my previous fic)

warnings: major character death, angst, swearing, alcoholism

a/n: just gotta keep this angst train going I GUESS but what happens when they die instead of you?

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

Your little hand's wrapped around my finger And it's so quiet in the world tonight Your little eyelids flutter 'cause you're dreamin' So I tuck you in, turn on your favorite night light

"Let's get you to bed," you said as your little twins walked out of the bathroom. This routine felt foreign to you as Johnny had always helped you get them ready. "C'mon let's get those teeth brushed," you said gently as you led your children upstairs. After a few minutes, Johnny had finished the dishes and he smiled to himself as he joined into the small bathroom. "Alright now let's show Daddie how we brush," you exclaimed and Johnny watched as you all danced around the room, toothbrushes in hand. He loved the rhythmic sound of your footsteps dancing around as you tried to make the nightly routine fun. "All done!" your daughter exclaimed as she stood there proudly. Your son joined next to her and they showed off their matching pajamas. "Can't tell you two apart," he joked as the whole home was filled with giggles.

That thought was in the past as he had been gone for two weeks and you struggled every day. The world had lost its color and everything was more quiet than you remembered. You'd drive down different streets to avoid your husband's memory and even changed your entire routine but the grief is still there. You had taken off an indeterminate amount of time from work and no one blamed you. This was the first time putting your children to bed as your sister had been helping you out for the last few weeks. As you tucked the twins in, your son reached out and held your hand tightly.

"Mammy, I can't sleep," he whispered and your heart broke. His hand was wrapped around your finger and he looked at you with tears in his eyes. "I can stay for a while," you quietly said as you tried to lie down in your son's small bed. Your son cuddled up to you as he cried into your arm. "Why did Daddie go away?" he wailed as you shakily patted his back. You took a moment to answer as you tried to blink away tears of your own. "He was going somewhere we couldn't but trust me he's having lots of fun" you whispered as the tears began to fall freely, "he's probably watching a football game, you know how much he loves those." Your son sniffled for a few moments and you could feel your arm become soaked with the little one's tears.

"Are you gonna go too, Mammy?" you son asked shakily. "I'll be here when you wake up, trust me," you said reassuringly before your son rolled over and cried to sleep. You continued to draw reassuring circles on his back as you held your sobs in. You stayed like that until you could see his eyelids flutter and the room was filled with rhythmic breathing. You kissed your son and daughter on the forehead as you quietly left the room. You made sure to turn the nightlight on before exiting into the dark hallway. You closed the door to the bedroom quietly and headed downstairs. No matter how long it had been, you couldn't sleep in your bed as you would always wake up expecting his smiling face to be there.

At fourteen, there's just so much you can't do And you can't wait to move out someday and call your own shots

"Alright enjoy the movie, love" you said as you dropped your daughter off to the cinema. After days of fighting, you had allowed her to go and meet some friends. Your daughter knew it was a difficult time so she tried to be understanding but eventually, it all exploded. Your son had moved out and naturally, you and your daughter were at odds. Words had been said and you both regretted them. If Simon were here, he would have taken the situation over and somehow you would have come to an agreement. But he wasn't and you were left to deal with it alone.

"Thanks, Mum," she said curtly before she went to exit the door. You stopped her before she opened it. "I'm sorry," you began to say as her back faced you, "Rose, it's not fair that you have to stay home because of it." You refused to say his death but you both knew today was the anniversary of his passing. Even turned away, you could tell your daughter was still upset. Your daughter let a few tears fall before she turned to you. "I'm sorry too, Mum," she said as she embraced you. You shared a quiet moment before your daughter heard her friends call to her. "I'll have Imogen's mum drop me off later," she said before you could object. "I already asked so you don't have to worry," she whispered before kissing your cheek and walking away.

When you went home, you poured the same bottle of Bourbon you had kept all these years. You were conservative with it and portioned two out, always one for you and one for him. You shakily poured the heavy bottle into the crystal glasses you had been given on your wedding day. You closed your eyes as you tried to remember his voice. "Simon look!" you exclaimed and he turned to look at you. He blocked the mid-afternoon light as he leant down on the couch. "John got us lowball classes so we can enjoy some good ol' Southern bourbon together," you remarked and twirled the glasses in your hand. "I thought you hated the stuff, love" he replied as he took them to be washed. "I could learn to love it for my new husband," you joked before he kissed you on the cheek. You tried to remember what he were wearing but your memory failed you. When you opened your eyes, part of you expected to see him there but instead in front of you were two glasses filled with the brown liquid. You choked down the brown solution as you painfully swallowed his memory and the strong liquor.

When your daughter returned home, she took the other glass and poured it out into the sink. She put the ornate bottled bourbon away and threw out the other cheap bourbon you had bought on your way home. Just another failed attempt of enjoying your late husband's favorite alcohol. "I'm home, Mum, let's get you to bed," she whispered as she gently shook your arm. You hugged her goodnight before you ascended the stairs to the empty bedroom. As you shut the door, your daughter could've sworn she heard you cry.

Take pictures in your mind of your childhood room Memorize what it sounded like when your dad gets home Remember the footsteps, remember the words said

"Alright Ives, it's time to go to bed," you called as you entered your daughter's bedroom. The room was barren except for a few objects, the rest were sitting downstairs in cardboard boxes taking up the dining room. Your daughter was finishing up packing her remaining things when she turned to you. "We have a long day tomorrow," you said as you moved the box to the hallway. You looked around the room and frowned slightly at the emptiness. "I couldn't get the stars off," Ivy said quietly and you looked up to see glow-in-the-dark stars plastered to the ceiling. The stars had been up there since she was young, a purchase you had made when your daughter, at 5 years old, expressed interest in space. "Dad must've super glued it or something," she laughed sadly as she joined your eyes to the ceiling. You remembered when Kyle offered to put them up, haphazardly hanging off a ladder as he glued the small stars. "He loved this house, probably never wanted us to leave," you replied and hugged her goodnight.

You took one last look at the room before closing the door gently and retreating to the bedroom. You walked around the cardboard box and slowly made your way through the hallway. You navigated with the glow of the soft lights, avoiding looking at the photographs that depicted your late husband. You couldn't look at the happy gaze of him on your wedding day or when you had first brought Ivy home. In the glare of the overhead lights, they attempted to call for your attention. The last photo before your bedroom was his military portrait, sent to you by parcel from the Special Air Service. You couldn't pass this one idly by as the light switch sat next to it. Your husband looked so proud in his formal uniform and you let your hand gently glide along the frame.

As you entered your bedroom, you laid out your clothes out for the next morning. It wasn't anything special just some simple shorts and a shirt. Despite that, you knew Kyle would still say you were the most beautiful woman on earth. You settled on the simple attire as you were moving your daughter into uni and knew the day would be filled with a long drive and an even longer time transporting all of her things. You used to put your clothes out every morning and Kyle would always place his next to yours. The room was relatively untouched since he died, with only a few new pictures of you and your daughter sitting on the dresser. You half-heartedly walked to the bathroom and went through the motions of your evening routine before sinking underneath the cold sheets.

As you closed your eyes to sleep, you could remember Kyle coming home when your daughter was still young. Kyle would always arrive late at night and would always be silent when he came home. However, you and your daughter would always be up waiting for him. "Shhh I think he's coming," you whispered as you saw the driveway's floodlights turn on. As Kyle turned the knob, he saw you and your daughter sitting on the steps. "Welcome home!" you both announced as you went to hug him. "Loves, what are you doing awake?" he asked but he knew the answer. "It's a tradition, no matter how late," you said as you kissed his cheek. "Now let's get you unpacked," Ivy said as she struggled to take his duffle upstairs.

So here I am in my new apartment In a big city, they just dropped me off It's so much colder than I thought it would be

"And that's the last box," you said as you placed the cardboard box on your son's counter. After a whole day of moving, you had finally finished getting everything out of the moving truck. Your son was on his own now, having moved to London and was starting a new job that Monday. He navigated the busy streets with the truck and you both felt accomplished as you looked at the wide space. The air was cold as you begun the day and now small snow crystals coated the flat's window.

"He would've loved this place," you said as you put your head on your son's shoulders. The flat was fit for a young adult, with a kitchen, a bathroom, a bedroom, and a nice living room. "Did I ever tell you how bad his first assignment was?" you joked and your son laughed. When you first met John, you hated the small barracks he found himself in when he was his son's age. Part of you was glad your son hadn't joined the military, John always regretted the long months away from home. "He would have thought this was great but he would've taken over the unpacking," he replied and you smiled at your husband's memory. He was right after all, you always had a vision on how to turn a house into a home and John would always follow with the heavy lifting. "I guess he would have," you replied sadly and your son saw a few tears fall. You stood like that for a few moments before you saw yourself out with a promise to call sometime that week.

As you arrived to the empty home, you gently hung your coat on the rack. You were now officially an empty nester as your youngest was gone. You smiled sadly as you looked on the calendar as to when your eldest and his family would be visiting again. As you counted down the days, you remembered when you were pregnant and decorating your youngest son's nursery. "John, no put that over there," you directed as you sat in a chair with your enlarged belly. "I don't think the baby is going to care, sweetheart," he replied as he moved the framed map to the other side of the nursery. You had insisted on hanging vintage maps and travel posters, even purchasing a mobile with hanging clouds and a plane. You hoped your son would travel the world some day. "I'll care though," you said as he nailed the picture in. John sat next to you as you smiled at him. "You'd think I'd know a thing or two after two kids," he joked and placed a hand on your stomach. Almost immediately, the baby kicked as he held his hand there softly. "He agrees with my design choices," you joked and the room filled with laughter. While you did accomplish some destinations with your children on shared travel bucket list, it never was the same. The worn postcards from your travels as a young adult sat in the same box it always had. You grabbed them from the shelf, blowing off some accumulated dust. As you looked at your delicate handwriting and depiction of your travels, you felt some tears pierce your eyes. At the bottom of the pile, lay your only postcard you received from John. A postcard from Amsterdam with the writing reading "To my favorite traveler, here's one place I went to before you. Love, John"

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hellfiremunsonn · 2 years

Text

Stupid. Eddie Munson x Reader

Stupid

I do not allow my writing to be republished anywhere other than my own blog without my consent

Summary: Eddie accidentally calls his golden retriever/ditsy girlfriend stupid

(This fic has no smut. Younger audiences are able to read this without any explicit content. but I will still be marking and labeling my writing as 18+)

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

Warnings: fem!reader, swearing, fluff, this is pretty tame, let me know if I missed anything.

Word count: 1369

Thursday afternoon rolled around faster than you thought it would. Spending most of your time outside with Eddie, picking a handful of small flowers until you had a satisfied bundle of them clutched into your fist, Eddies hand intertwined with your other hand, swinging them back and forth while you walked back to your house to get ready for Hellfire tonight.

Nerves rumbled through your belly so instead of packing up your overnight bag like you usually do- Staying at Eddies after Hellfire became one of your favourite routines. Today felt different, you were actually playing in the campaign Eddie prepared for everyone; usually tucked up in a chair next to Eddies drawing and colouring throughout the game. Eddie had felt bad bringing you with him every time and having you just sit next to him the whole time, so he made a whole campaign to include you.

You asked Eddie to pack your bag for you, knowing it would make you more nervous if you did it yourself. Laying on your bed, legs up the wall, calves pressed as closely as you could get them while being up, the skirt of your dress falling down to your tummy, your full legs bare and on display. The toes of your pink Mary Janes tapping against each other while you attempting to hold up a stuffed bear who was situated on the bottoms of your shoes.

"Baby where's your toothbrush?" Eddie asked coming out of the bathroom.

You stared at him upside down, your head almost hanging off the edge of your bed. "I dunno" You said with a shrug.

"What do you mean you don't know? Did you brush this morning?" He asked tilting his head to the side.

"Yep!"

"And you put your toothbrush somewhere else and forgot huh?" He said knowingly while coming over to give your forehead a quick kiss.

"I guess so" You said furrowing your brows. "Maybe the house goblins took it. You know like the ones in the book?"

"They are quite mischievous aren't they?" Eddie said returning his attention to your pink backpack.

You watched him fold your clothes delicately before tucking them into your bag. Frilly pink pyjamas, soft in contrast to Eddies dark and tough demeanour, a couple pair of undies, a change of clothes for tomorrow along with your sketchbook and glittery pencil case.

"Alright you're all set sweets, ready to head out?"

You frowned lightly but still sat up, letting the blood rush back down to the rest of your body before standing up. Taking eddies outstretched hand and following him back downstairs to his van.

The drive to your old high school was quick, just down the road from your own home, giving you not enough time to calm your nerves.

You twirled around the drama room humming to a song while Eddie began setting everything up. Copies of characters sheets, extra sets of dice, a sharpened pencil at each seat along with a few seats of lined paper just incase anyone needed to write anything down. He was always so diligent with everything he did, and constantly over prepared.

"You alright? You seem quiet" Eddie asked breaking you out of your thoughts.

"I'm nervous" you said honestly, never one to truly lie about your emotions. Eddie came over to you, hands encircling around your waist, warm and protective. He looked down at your concerned face, big doe eyes with thick lashes, a small pout forming on your lips.

"Whatcha nervous for?"

"What if they don't like me" biting your lip and avoiding his gaze.

"They know you already, they love you, you know that" He said reassuringly.

Your heart raced a little bit faster as you could hear the rest of the group coming loudly down the hall. Your words coming out in a rush. "B-but what if I mess somethin' up? What if they don't like playing with me"

Eddie rolled his eyes "Don't be stupid, you k-" You cut him off with a shove, squirming out of his arms and to the door of the room. Tears falling quickly down your eyes.

"Babe what happened?" Eddie said confused, following hot on your heels, reaching for your shoulder but you shrugged it off, flinging the classroom door open till it smacked the shelf on the other side, the uncomfortable looking teens on the other side of the door unsure of what to do as you brushed passed him with a hiccup. "Fucking shit" He mumbled, pushing past the gaggle of kids. "Just set up your shit guys, I'll be back" Eddie said with a rush, jogging to catch up to you shortly after you pushed through the school doors.

"Baby wait!" He reached for your wrist, holding it tightly to stop you from walking, tugging at it to turn you to face him. Your cheeks pink and splotchy from your tears, your lip wobbled when you looked at him. "Baby what's got you so upset"

You yanked roughly against his hand that held your wrist. "You!" You shouted. "Y-you called me stupid" You said with a choked, your other hand coming up to wipe at your nose.

Eddies tensed shoulders dropped, realization coming over him. Upset at himself for using the word towards you even if you didn't mean it the way so many other people did towards you.

"Baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that" His grip on your wrist loosening. Bringing his hands up to the base of your neck, thumbs on each sides of your cheeks while they attempted to brush away the rapidly falling tears. "I should have said 'silly' instead, I'm so sorry baby"

"M'not stupid Eds" you sniffled.

"I know my love, I know you're not stupid, you're one of the most brilliant people I've ever met I promise okay? I'm sorry" His eyes searched yours, hoping that you accept his apology. He felt so guilty he let the word slip, normally using any other word he could think of as a replacement.

"People think I'm stupid because I don't have a good memory, and I-I know I'm not always there in my own head, but it's cause I'm thinking about a million things at once!" You huffed.

"I know baby, you don't have to prove yourself to me, I know how smart you are, and what you're capable of, I've seen it, I've seen you" His eyes searching for yours once more. "Can I give you a hug please?"

You didn't give him time to wait, throwing your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shirt. He sighed in relief, his hands wrapping around your back tightly, pressing his nose into your hair, breathing in your cucumber and lavender shampoo.

After a few moments you leaned back to look at him, taking your thumb and wiping gently across his wet lashes. His own eyes watery, seconds away from guilt filled tears rolling down his cheeks, but you wouldn't allow it, seeing him cry would make you crumble.

"Could you ever forgive me?" He said with a small smile and you giggled, looking away from him and across the dark parking lot, noticing how long you had been out here.

"Course I can, but don't say it ever again okay?" Looking back up at him with those big eyes.

"Never" He said spotting your head with kisses. "Never" a kiss "Ever" a kiss "Ever!" he yelled the last one, his hands roaming down your sides, tickling at your waist until he had you doubled over with laughter, trying to wiggle out of his torturous hands.

"I surrender!" You yelled, holding your hands up, huffing out the words admit your giggles. "Truce?" You ask, holding your hand out.

"Truce" he agreed, taking your hand in his and pulling it to his lips to press the daintiest of kissed to the back of your hand.

The doors of the school creaked open and an awkward looking Mike peaked out with a wave. "Uh, just coming to see if everything was good, and uh" he scratched the back of his head. "If you guys were coming back"

"We'll be right in Wheeler" Eddie said giving him a salute before leaning down to envelop your lips with his.

#Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #Eddie Munson Stranger Things #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x fem!reader #Eddie Munson x femreader #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x (y/n)#Eddie Munson imagine #Eddie Munson fluff #Stranger Things imagine #Stranger Things fluff #Eddie Munson smut #Stranger Things smut #hellfiremunsonn

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darkbluekies · 1 year

Note

Dr Kry with a male darling who ended up in the hospital because of an attempt (feel free to ignore if it’s triggering, just want some fluff <3)

Hold my heart

Doctor!yandere OC x male!reader

Summary: Dr Kry is meeting a new patient and learns about the night he's had. Dr Kry decides to take him under his wing and protect him forever.

Warnings: mentions of: blood, cutting, self-harm, depression, self blame, interpretation of suicideI've tried to not be too heavy on the dark themes and tried to make it a bit comforting, I don't know how that worked out though

[I want to say that if anyone who's reading this somehow relates to it, everything will be better eventually. Please reach out to someone trustworthy. You're deserving of so much.]

It's late at night. Usually, Dr Kry would be home sleeping by now, but he's been called in for an emergency. A young man who's tried to harm himself is currently sitting in his office.

Dr Kry hurries through the halls to reach his office. He's holding papers containing the young man's information in his hands.

You look up as the doctor enters. You take a quick scan over him. He looks like everything you want to be. Healthy, strong … satisfied with life. Maybe if you were like him you wouldn't have tried …

"Y/N, hello", the man smiles softly and holds out his hand. "I'm Dr Kry."

"Hi", you almost whisper, taking his large hand in yours.

The shake is firm, making you feel even smaller.

"How are you feeling?" Dr Kry wonders.

"I don't know", you answer quietly.

"Your family is worried about you, you know."

"Yeah …"

Dr Kry looks at you from head to toe. You don’t look any different from the young men he usually meet. Everyone who comes in here usually have the same look in their eyes.

"Will you let me see your arms?" he asks carefully.

You don't answer. Dr Kry notices how you start to pull your limbs closer to your body and avoid eye contact and decides to back off.

"You're safe in here, Y/N", the doctor says gently. "The ER nurses were stressful, I understand. I'm not. I'm patient and I will wait until you're ready."

You feel a bit at ease. The nurses were ripping your bloody arms left to right to examine and care for. They put them on display for everyone to see. You've never felt so embarrassed and vulnerable. All of your insecurities and pain were put on a show and tell for whoever wanted to see. You could have been naked and you wouldn’t have felt as exposed as you did.

Your arms are now covered in stale bandage that you are hiding underneath the purple hoodie. You can still see a trace of the nights deeds on your hands, but you ignore it.

You two sit there in silence for what feels like hours. Most likely it's only been thirty minutes. Dr Kry sits by his desk, doing some paperwork while you play with your fingers and the hem of your hoodie.

"What do you like to do, Y/N?" he asks without looking away from the papers.

"Not much", you answer quietly.

"What did you used to like?"

"Drawing, maybe."

"Drawing? What did you draw?"

You shrug, still avoiding eye contact.

"I'd love to see your drawings someday", Dr Kry smiles and meets your eyes.

Normally, blue eyes can be intense, but these are somehow warm despite their cold color.

You yawn.

"Are you tired?" the doctor asks and glances at the smartwatch on his wrist. "Well, the clock’s already two am. Why don't you come with me to a hospital room? You can stay there for the night and we can talk a bit more tomorrow."

You find yourself nodding. Dr Kry stands up and holds out his hand to you. You blink in surprise.

“I can lead you”, Dr Kry says. “You don’t have to take my hand if you don’t want to.”

Weirdly enough, you take his hand. His last grip on it had made you feel a bit at ease, as if the storming world around you could be controlled by his hands. Dr Kry gives you a soft and gentle smile as he takes you through the corridor. He can feel his heart swell and his body shiver at the touch of you.

“I like your hoodie”, Dr Kry says, trying to spark up a conversation to learn more about you. “Is that a band you like on the front?”

“Yeah …”, you mumble. “It’s their logo.”

You feel worse about your hoodie getting soaked in blood than your arms taking the initial hit.

“Do you like music?” the doctor continues and opens the elevator door.

You nod. Dr Kry sighs and takes another look at you. He has dealt with these kinds of situations before, but he’s never felt this … bad.

He takes you to a hospital room a few floors up. While you stand against the wall, he fixes the bed for you.

“I’ll be with you all night”, Dr Kry promises. “To make sure that you don’t do anything else to yourself.”

You meet his eyes again. He looks so genuine that it aches in your heart. He’ll stay up to watch you? He’ll protect you from the bad thoughts in your head? He’ll sacifice sleep just for you? Your eyes fill with tears as your legs lose their strenght. Falling down into a sitting position with your back against the wall and hiding your eyes into the pals of your hands. Dr Kry hurries over and squats down in front of you, holding his large hands on your shoulders.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. “What happened?”

“N-Nothing”, you sob. “Just- … thank you, doctor.”

Dr Kry relaxes and smiles slightly. He lets his hand run through your hair in an attempt to comfort your fragile being.

“Of course, Y/N”, he says quietly, comfortingly. “I’ll be here for you.”

“Do you blame me?” you sob and look up to meet his blue eyes.

He doesn’t need to ask about what he should blame you for, he knows.

“Of course I don’t”, Dr Kry says with a soft smile. “I can tell that you’re a good boy. I don’t think you’re a bad person. How can I blame a good heart?”

“B-But … my arms-”

“Your arms are going to heal. And so will both your heart and your mind. It just takes time, okay?”

You nod and sob again. Dr Kry leans forward and embraces you in a protective hug. Your entire body is shaking in his hold and wettening his white lab coat, but he doesn’t care. You feel so right in his arms. He thinks it’s such a shame that you have to be tortured by the demons who have settled in your mind.

“I shouldn’t feel like this”, you sob against his shoulder. “I-I don’t have anything to be upset about! T-There are others who have it worse … who have a reason to … to be sad.”

“That doesn’t make your pain any less invalid”, Dr Kry promises you. “You ended up here. That’s enough evidence for me to know that you need help.”

“I just did it to … to get someone’s attention. I-I’m not sick … I’m just … a bad person. I’m just bothering everyone, aren’t I? Such an attention seeker …”

“You’re not. If you would have done all of this for attention, then you’re not well.” Dr Kry pulls back to look at your tearstained face. “You are allowed to feel sad, Y/N. You’re allowed to be mad, to be upset, to be depressed. It doesn’t matter how great your life is otherwise, you’re still allowed to feel this.”

You nod and hug him tighter. Finally someone understands. Finally someone is on your side.

Dr Kry pulls you up on your now unsteady legs and leads you over to the bed. He tucks you in and sits down on his rolling stool. He pulls out a napkin and starts to wipe your tears gently.

“You should try to get some sleep”, Dr Kry says. “When morning comes, you and I will eat breakfast together and then talk a bit, okay?”

“Okay”, you whisper and sniffle.

“Good boy. Just sleep now. I will sit here and watch over you to make sure that nothing is happening. If you need anything, just tell me.”

“Can you … can you hold my hand?”

Dr Kry moves over to the bed and holds your hand in his. You close your eyes with one last tear running down your cheek. Dr Kry reaches out and wipes it with a full heart. He looks back at the door, thinking about locking it. You’re a soul he needs to save … but to do that, he needs to keep you here with him.

“Don’t worry, Y/N”, he whispers when he’s sure that you can’t hear him. “You’ll never hurt again.”

He’ll protect you.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere fics #yandere stories #yandere oc x you #yandere doctor #dr kry oc #male reader

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captain-mj · 1 year

Note

Hi!! Um, could we get more Price x Graves, but maybe Graves is on a mission with the 141 and Los Vaqueros and puts himself in danger to protect one of them? Something kinda ANGSTY. (Which hopefully leads to the team kinda trusting him more?) Thanks!

Assume this is in that one series (I'll probably do a masterlist of them soon)

~~~~

Graves went with them. It was the first mission he had been allowed to go on since the betrayal and he was stupidly excited. Obviously, he kept his expressions neutral, tried not to draw too much attention to it in case they changed their mind or found it annoying.

He sat in the front seat with Price, nodding his head along to the music they chose. It wasn't what he preferred but he liked it fine enough and Price was humming along.

"So you actually wear the hat during missions?"

"Course I do. Part of the ensemble."

"He's trying to hide that his hair is thinning." Soap pitched in, smiling. Graves laughed a little but quickly quieted when Ghost made eye contact with him. Price kept insisting Ghost wouldn't stab him for no reason, but Graves wasn't sure what a good reason was to him.

He grabbed his gun and got out, humming quietly. They separated into pairs and he found himself with Gaz which was... awkward. Gaz didn't outwardly show any aggression like Ghost, or avoided him like Rodolfo did. But it was still tense nonetheless. He wished he could've gone with Price, but Price was going to where the bombs were which meant Soap was with him.

"Is his hair actually thinning?" Gaz broke the silence first. Graves thanked God for the first time that this group was rather chatty.

"No. It's not. He takes care of it almost as much as his facial hair."

"I can bet." Gaz didn't smile, but it was slightly tense and Graves was thankful for it. With the angle they were at, Gaz couldn't have seen it, but Graves could.

The faintest glint of a gun around a corner and a hand.

He slammed right into Gaz, knocking them both down. Gaz immediately started cursing, saying he knew he was a traitor and later, Graves could be offended but for now, he needed to see where that guard went. He held his breath and noticed something moving again.

"Shut it, soldier. We've been spotted. Radio in." He kneeling in moments, gun at the ready. He sat next to Gaz while he radioed in without a second thought.

The guy he had seen was stupid enough to poke his head out and Graves put him down immediately.

"Sorry for shoving you down like that. Wasn't sure if he was aiming." Graves smiled down at Gaz. He stood up but stayed over him protectively, giving him time to get back up. He looked down for just a moment.

Gaz smiled back. "No problem. Hell I didn't eve-"

The bullet went straight through Graves's chest. He felt it bash through one of his ribs. In his head, it punctured his lungs and filled them with blood, but in reality, it missed them by an inch. The force knocked him off his feet and he slammed hard into the ground.

His tactical vest did its job. Barely. Kept it from being lethal on impact at least, but as he lay on the ground, he didn't think that would last long.

It burned. The powder of the bullets spilling into his guts.

He heard another gunshot and prayed quietly that it wasn't Gaz. The kid was way too young to die like this. Someone grabbed him and started pulling him up. He recognized the gloves and frowned up at Ghost.

Ghost didn't say anything. Soap said he could read everything about Ghost's thoughts through his eyes, but Graves thought that was stupid. They looked like the deer he hunted in the woods. A feral thing that was harmless until you got too close. Then they'd gore you and leave you bleeding out. And right now, Graves was very, very close.

"Can you walk?" Ghost sounded like he was underwater. The waves swirled around him.

There was a creek where he lived when he was a kid. He used to hold onto the rocks at the bottom. One time, he collected one and his mom explained you couldn't do that. The water always knows when something is taken and one day, it'll ask for it back. He had quickly given the rock back.

Ghost hoisted him over his shoulder like he was a sack of potatoes. Graves groaned, feeling all the blood in his body shift down, pouring from the hole in his chest. His first mission and he was downed.

"Price is never going to let me go back in the field." Graves mumbled, blood dripping down his face.

Ghost was silent for a bit. "I'll put in a good word for you once you're healed."

"Thanks, Ghost..." Graves smiled, eyes starting to close of their own accord. "Wake me up when we get home, yeah? I hate car rides."

"What are you talking about, Graves?"

...

"Graves?"

Graves woke up in bed. For a brief moment, probably due to the heavy painkillers, he wondered if it had been a dream. Then, the pain started to drip into his body, spreading through his chest like tree roots.

He groaned, the last thing he remembered was being picked up unceremoniously. He knew Ghost wouldn't do bridal style but did he seriously have to leave him with no dignity?

Maybe that was his punishment for being stupid and getting shot.

Someone's hand fell on his shoulder and he groaned again. His eyes were so heavy but he pried them open to look.

Price didn't look great. His hat was off, making him look naked. His hair was too short to be messy, yet he had managed. It looked like he had been raking his fingers through it.

"There you, sweetheart." Price said softly.

Graves slumped. "Mission success?"

"Soap and I completed it. Don't worry. Ended up coming back right now when you and Ghost got back."

"Gaz?" Panic started bubbling up in Graves immediately.

"He's fine. He went forward and found us. Alerted us to what happened so we could hurry up and get back."

"Good. Good. Swear if that kid died after I got shot." He groaned softly, moving a little too much.

Fuck.

He pressed the stupid painkiller button for more and immediately relaxed.

"He said you stood over him after knocking him on his ass?"

"Saw a guy couple yards away behind a wall. Thought he was aiming. Didn't want to take the chance. Got Sergeant Garrick and I on the ground and waited for him to pop back up. There was a second one." He closed his eyes. "So stupid. Know better than to just stand up like that. Made myself a giant target."

Fucking idiot.

"You protected Gaz and took the guy down. You lived. All that matters."

"Price, don't patronize me. I know a lot more matters. We succeeded today, but if I had... If I hadn't...." If he had been slower. If he had been standing any different. If, if, if.

Soft lips on his shut up his brain.

Price held his face gently, relaxing as much as he could without putting weight on Graves.

"I'm so glad you're okay, sweetheart."

Graves's heart stuttered in his chest.

"Everyone has been worried. Gaz especially. Feels awful for accusing you of trying to kill him."

Graves's throat started to close and his face felt flushed. There was a pressure behind his eyes that he was trying to ignore.

"If I cry, it's the drugs."

"I won't tell anyone, sweetheart." Price said gently. "You did just get shot."

Graves nodded, still trying not to cry anyway. "Price, go tell them I'm fine. And tell Ghost thanks for the assist."

"Course. Now, get some more rest."

"You need to, captain. Get some sleep. You look awful." Graves looked at him, very aware of the fact that he was saying this while shirtless in a hospital bed covered in bandages.

"And you look beautiful as always." Price smiled at him and Graves blushed.

"Stop it."

"Do you prefer handsome?"

"John."

"Gorgeous?"

"Get out of here."

#cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #Phillip graves #John Price #Captain John Price #Price x Graves #Graves x Price

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cowgurrrl · 10 months

Note

how's our LFTL fam doing?? these are what the late night thoughts are tonight lol

Oh I'm so glad you asked (ps thank you for always asking me about LFTL 🥺🥺🫶)

When You Wash Your Hair

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic!Ellie x fem!reader)

Summary: A Miller tradition comes full circle [1.3k]

Warnings: the slightest touch of PTSD symptoms, domestic fluff, mentions of teen pregnancy???, uh I think that’s it

When you first met Joel, one of the very first things you noticed about him was his hair. The way the curls sat on his forehead and moved with the wind. Joel and Tess had been smuggling partners for years when you came into the picture and certainly didn't take well to outsiders like yourself. Still, you stuck with them and noticed all the little nuances of their personalities, like how Tess stuck to Joel's right and how he always let her lead, and how their hair would get to the brink of unruly before showing up in the morning with fresh cuts. A month or so after settling in Jackson, you noticed his hair becoming even more unkempt than usual. One night, he woke you up with big eyes and shaking hands and asked you to cut his hair.

You didn't have viable scissors the whole journey from Boston, and even if you did, Joel didn't trust you with them so close to his head. That is, not until that night. He sat on the closed toilet seat and traced anxious patterns into the backs of your thighs as you stood in between his legs, gingerly snipping away wild curls and giving some shape back to his hair. When he stood to look at his reflection in the mirror, it was like watching a piece of him come alive again. He looked younger and, somehow, lighter. Wordlessly, you switched places, and he cut a couple of inches off your head—the pieces of the people you left at Jackson's gates intertwining on the floor. It felt like a new beginning or as close to a fresh start as either of you could ever be afforded. Thus, began the monthly Miller haircut night.

Your and the girls' hair grows much slower than Joel's, but all four of you need haircuts every few months. Charlie is usually first with all her squirming and tricky ringlets. "Mommy, did you know that the moon changes every night? It's called the lunler cycle." She asks, whipping her head around to look at you. You pull the scissors away from her hair to avoid impaling her and take a deep breath to calm yourself down.

"I didn't know that. Can you draw them for me?" You ask, sliding her a piece of paper and a crayon. Finally, your four-year-old settles enough for you to cut a few inches of hair. Ellie replaces Charlie while Joel gets her down for bed, and you pull leaves from Ellie's hair. She tells you about her patrol and how Dina's pregnancy is going. She's busy and doesn't get to come home as much as you would like, but at nineteen, she still lets you cut her hair, so that's a win. She makes up excuses like Dina can't cut her bangs like you can, or she's just looking for a homemade meal, but you know it's something deeper even if she won't admit it quite yet.

Even though it's been years of cutting her hair and keeping her in the bubble of Jackson, she still tenses when the cold metal grazes her skin. Her breathing gets shallow, and you can feel the panic knotting in her chest. You immediately put the sheers down and far enough away from her that they're out of sight before crouching to look at her. You grab her clammy hand and take a deep breath, a silent request for her to copy you. She does but not without it catching in her throat, breaking it into two breaths instead of one. You know not to rush her or speak before she's ready, so you sit in front of her, squeezing her hand and breathing deeply enough for the both of you. After a few minutes, she looks at you and nods, swiping at the tears collecting on her lash line. "Sorry." she breathes, and you shake your head.

"Nothing to be sorry about, bug."

"Just felt," she twinges, rolling her neck like she can feel the metal again. You know she remembers when David rattled the cleaver by her ear and how that sound echoed in her brain with the promise of a brutal, early death. "Scary."

"D'you want me to stop?" You ask. She shakes her head and takes another minute or two before giving you the go-ahead to continue. You're slow and careful to avoid touching her neck and fill the bathroom with talking about Shimmer, Jesse, and Dina— anything to keep her mind far away from that winter day. When you've finished snipping the dead ends away, she looks at herself in the mirror with a small smile, feeling the new length out and letting her spine relax. She gives you a hug and a quiet thank you before returning to the farmhouse.

"My turn?" Joel asks as he peeks his head into the bathroom. You smile as you pick up the pile of hair on the floor and dump it in the trashcan before turning to him.

"Charlie asleep?"

"Barely. She fell asleep in the middle of our conversation like she was afraid she would miss somethin'."

"Maybe she just likes talking to her dad." You say, and he chuckles as his hands land on your waist, pulling you toward him. Your hands land on his chest when he kisses you, tasting vaguely of the decaf coffee he drank on the porch and the beeswax chapstick someone in town makes. He hums against you, and you smile. "Take a seat, cowboy." You push him toward the toilet, and he groans but lets you go long enough to sit down.

Then, like always, you stand between his open legs and trim his curls to a more manageable length. His hands run a circuit from your hips to the backs of your knees before massaging into your lower back. The weight of his touch is welcome, and it takes all your focus not to lean into his warmth. You brush stray curls off his shoulders as he stands to check out his new look in the mirror, not that it's anything radically different, but he still smiles and leans down to kiss you.

"Perfect." He gently slips the scissors out of your hand and flips your positions, so you're closer to the toilet. "Your turn." He says, and you sigh as you oblige and let him examine your hair. Despite his rugged looks and tough attitude, Joel knows how to handle hair. He cut Tess's hair for years, and before that, he did Sarah's. He's usually putting Charlie's hair in pretty pigtails or a braid before school, even going as far as to wear a hair tie or two on his wrist at all times in case one of the women in his life needs one.

So you're not worried when your hair starts falling around you. You relax under his touch and close your eyes. He takes his time to ensure everything is the same length and looks correct, pressing kisses to your face between thoughts. You can hear an owl hooting nearby and feel the night settle over your quiet house. Ellie is safe with her partner, Charlie is asleep in bed, and Joel is in front of you, doing your hair like it's the most important thing he could ever do. When he's done, he runs a hand through the shorter length, and you open your eyes to see him staring at you like you created the universe with a single touch. You smile and reach for his waist as his hand rests on your jaw, tilting your head up.

"Perfect." He says, but he's not looking at your hair. You smile and pucker your lips so he'll kiss you, and he does. Then, without breaking away from you, Joel reaches into the shower and turns on the water. Because what would a Miller haircut night be without a warm shower with your husband to get all the loose hair off you?

#look for the light #knowing they end up happy makes my heart soar #especially because I’m writing WYLITD #joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #dad!joel miller #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem!reader #tlou fluff #the last of us x reader #the last of us fluff #the last of us

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maryamsweb · 11 months

Text

HOLY GROUND, miles morales

“spinning like a girl in a brand new dress

we had this big wide city all to ourselves

we blocked the noise with the sound of 'i need you'

and for the first time I had something to lose”

pairing: felicia hardy x miles morales

FELICIA HARDY WASN’T ONE TO LIVE WITH REGRET.

she tells herself, `everything is for a reason.’ a mission went bad? maybe trouble was coming. her father getting sent to prison? to teach her a lesson. but getting roped into saving the world with spider-man?

she had to have had questionable critical thinking skills.

felicia was currently in a battle with the green goblin as she and peter try to stop the collider.

she quickly draws her claws and engages with the green goblin with ferocity, dodging his attacks while landing blows on his glider. meanwhile, peter goes on the defensive, trying to avoid the green goblins's pumpkin bombs barrage.

the fight reaches the point where the heroes are backed into a corner. as they try to come up with a plan, the green goblin makes his move and charges at them, swinging his glider, threatening to thrust them out the window.

without hesitation, felicia launches herself at green goblin, delivering a series of kicks and punches, hoping to unbalance him. but the green goblin is ready and slams her with his glider, sending her flying towards peter. he catches her and sets her down, checking if she’s still capable of fighting.

as they stand face to face with the green goblin, he throws more pumpkin bombs destroying the underground. felicia’s eye catches peter swinging to the ground. as she approaches, she unzips her leather bag and pulls out some black and metallic claws, flicking and twirling them expertly before landing them in the back of her gloves.

the green goblin circles them, determined to take them out. but felicia lands a fierce attack, and begins to wonder where peter went. surely he didn’t leave her to fight by herself?

felicia now left to fight alone with the green goblin dodges his relentless attacks and fights back with deadly precision. but despite her best efforts, he proves to be a formidable foe, and she's having trouble holding him off on her own.

as peter swung back to the battle, felicia was barely holding her own, breathless and tired. the green goblin was gaining the upper hand until he arrived to turn the tide of the fight.

with peter back in the fight, the duo was once again a formidable force, and they began to deal heavy blows to the green goblin.

“we’re running out of time peter! use the override key now!”

just as peter was about to insert the key, kingpin’s inner circle intervenes, emerging from the shadows to take down the two heroes.

felicia lunged at the prowler with her claws, but he was too quick, dodging and weaving her attacks with ease. meanwhile, order, using his web-slinging and spider-sense, was able to keep the green goblin at bay, avoiding his bombs and the deadly glider.

the fight became more intense as the prowler landed a few hits on felicia, sending her reeling back. peter quickly came to her aid, knocking the prowler off his feet with a well-placed kick, but the battle wasn't over yet.

as the trio exchanged blows, the green goblin launched a new attack with a modified collider, constructing a black hole in the facility. the collider is dangerously unstable, and spider-man knew he had to act quickly to stop it.

in the chaos, the green goblinnoticed a moment of vulnerability in felicia. using his glider, he launched himself at her at full speed, knocking her down. she tried to get up again, but felt that something was wrong with her leg.

with no time to assess her injury, peter and felicia fought through the pain to stop the collider from going off. in the midst of the fight, peter saw his opportunity to seemingly destroy the collider and dove in.

but his heroic act proved futile as kingpin emerged to reveal that he only needed the collider for a few more moments - enough to complete his plans and finally eliminate his hated foes. as fisk smugly watched from a safe distance, green goblin threw peter into the black hole.

felicia watched in agony as green goblin used his glider to send letter tumbling into the collider's black hole. the sound of machinery grinding to a halt was followed by complete darkness and utter silence in the facility.

she tried to get to her feet to go to peter’s aid, but the pain in her leg was too much. as she gasped for air, tears rolling down her face, she realized that she was now alone in the facility with no way to rescue her fallen friend.

as she struggled to move, kingpin emerged from the shadows, snickering as he approaches. felicia’s rage burned bright, ready to take down fisk, but she knew she was too injured to fight him.

fisk stood there, triumphant over his victory and relishing in felicia’s heartbreak. he explained how the collider would be of great use to him and how careless she and her dear spider were to think they could interfere with his plans.

felicia watched from a distance, barely able to make noise, as fisk brought his hands down on peter’s chest, killing him. she watched as kingpin and his goons left.

she was barely able to make sense of what had just happened. everything felt like a blur, but as she started to come to her senses, she knew that there was one thing that she had to do.

ignoring her own injuries, she crawled towards peter’s body, crying with every groan of her body. she knew that she was powerless to save him, but she was determined to stay with him until the end.

as she got closer, she saw that his wounds were critical - there was no way that he could have survived what he had just been through. she took a deep breath, praying that he would hear her words, even if he wasn't able to respond.

"peter," she said, her voice choking with tears. "i’m so sorry. I never thought that this would happen. I wish that I could have done more, that I could have saved you.”

her heart was shattered into a thousand pieces, and all she could do was cry. the tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she gazed at peter’s lifeless form, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

she crawled to his side, hoping against hope that he would move, that he would smile that cocky grin of his, that the two of them would go back to the way things were. but as her hand came to rest on his chest, she knew it was too late.

her voice shook as she spoke to him, telling him how much he meant to her, how much he had taught her, how grateful she was for all the time they had shared. she talked to him as if he was listening, though she knew deep down that he wasn't.

felicia paused for a moment, her sobs choking her voice. she took a deep breath, forcing herself to keep talking.

"i’m so sorry that i couldn't save you," she whispered. "i tried, i really did. but it wasn't enough. i’ll never forget you, peter. I'll remember all the good times, the tough times, the victories, and the defeats. I promise you that I'll keep fighting, that I'll keep trying to make the world a better place, just like you did."

felicia leaned down and kissed peter’s forehead before sitting back and gathering her thoughts. even though she was heartbroken and didn't know what to do next, she knew she had to keep fighting, to continue being the hero that peter parker had helped her become.

#miles morales x reader #into the spider verse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderverse spoilers #miles molares

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bookshelfdreams · 2 years

Note

Thoughts on Stede reading The Hobbit (bonus: to the crew)?

Wish you a cool evening!

i'm gonna sue you for damages that's what i'm thinking

how dare you put this concept in my head

just imagine!! Everyone is captivated from the very first second. Pete pretends to think it's dumb - "What even is a hobbit", he mutters under his breath. What is a hobbit? Stede reads. I suppose Hobbits need some description nowadays. Pete is stunned into silence (and he too has loved it from the very first moment, actually, though he wouldn't admit it under threat of death).

Stede does all the voices. His Bilbo is closest to his own voice, polite and chipper, but passive aggression always at the ready, like a hidden knife. His Gandalf speaks with gravitas, deep in his chest (Ed likes that a lot). All of the dwarves are introduced with their own voices, from excited, youthful, near (but not quite) identical Fili and Kili, to gravely Balin, voice rough and heavy with age.

The first song Stede tries to avoid. He reads up to But the dwarves only started to sing and skips right to and everything was cleaned and put away safe as quick as lightning, but then Frenchie wonders out loud.

"What kinds of songs do dwarves sing, do you suppose?", he asks no one in particular.

"Must be bloody", Pete says.

"It's about dishwashing", Olu says dryly.

Ed leans over Stede's shoulder. "You could have just read it, mate", he says and Stede has never felt more betrayed. "It's right here!"

"What?" Frenchie shoots upright. "Read it then!"

Stede, who doesn't mind reciting poetry but is mortified by the thought of singing in front of an audience, knows resistance is futile. He gives a deep sigh.

Chip the glass and crack the plates, he starts, voice as flat as possible. Doesn't even take to the end of the second line for Wee John to start tapping out a rhythm against the deck with his palm. Frenchie has his lute in hand, plucking out a simple melody.

"Start again", he says and is already humming along. He gets Stede to read through the whole poem twice, and then he's got it.

Chip the glass and crack the plates, and it's bouncy, catchy, a bit like a shanty. A simple melody to keep hands working steady in the same rhythm. The Swede is adding a beautiful harmony.

That's what Bilbo Baggins hates! So carefully, carefully with the plates!, they all shout as one, grinning.

"Can we sing it one more time?", Fang asks.

They don't finish the chapter that evening.

The next morning, Stede approaches Frenchie and Wee John somewhat secretly. "There's another song right after the one from yesterday", he tells them, "in case you want to. You know. Not that you have to, of course."

Frenchie is delighted. The Swede is quickly recruited.

The Song of the Lonely Mountain may or may not bring tears to the eyes of a hardened pirate or two, you have no proof.

Everyone is intrigued by the map. Of course Stede has an edition with a nice big map folded up in the back of the book; they carefully take it out and put it on deck so everyone can see it. "What's that?" Ed asks and points at the runes.

"Wait and we will find out", Stede answers, and already knows he will tell Ed later, when the rest of the crew can't hear it, should he still want to know.

The dwarves get caught by trolls and Jim is distraught. "Don't go there one by one, you morons!" they yell, and Olu has to hold their hand discreetly until Gandalf shows up to save the day. Roach has some sympathy for the poor trolls, who have been subsisting on nothing but mutton, but draws a line at squashing the dwarves to eat them later without removing the guts first.

They make it to Rivendell and there is another improv song. Stede maybe hums along. Off key. But he's hardly the only one with no great singing voice.

The mystery of the runes is lifted.

"Moon letters?"

"Oh so it was invisible this whole time!"

Everyone is delighted to have known a secret before the characters did.

The Misty Mountains rise up under our heroes's feet. Far, far away in the West, where things were blue and faint, Bilbo knew there lay his own country of safe and comfortable things, and his little hobbit-hole, Stede reads. It stirs something in Ed, and even though this chapter has an even bigger adventure than the trolls (AND a song! A song that Roach will be heard singing under his breath for days, Clash, crash! Crush, smash! Hammer and tongs! Knocker and gongs!, and Lucius is not avoiding him, thank you very much)

Even though there is plenty else going on, that line still sticks in Ed's head. "Do you miss home, sometimes?" he asks Stede as they lay down for the night.

"Oh my love", Stede says, wrapped up in Ed's arms, with Ed's head pillowed on his chest, "I am home."

They meet Gollum next.

What has roots as nobody sees / Is taller than trees / Up, up it goes / And yet, never grows?

"A cathedral, obviously", Wee John shouts, before Stede can read on.

"Shut up, they don't have cathedrals", Pete says. "Do they?"

"Tall building, anyway", Frenchie backs Wee John up.

"Could be something else", the Swede muses.

"Like what?"

"No he's right", Roach says, "Building is too easy. It's um. A hot air balloon? No roots, it goes up but doesn't grow, does it?"

That earns him a round of impressed nods and agreeing hums. The actual answer - Mountain, I suppose! - is widely seen as anticlimactic.

Stede hisses and croaks as he speaks with Gollum's voice and that placates the crew somewhat. It must have a competition with us, my preciouss, he reads and dredges the sounds out of the back of his throat, speaks with his tongue between his teeth until he truly sounds like a creature that lives in dark, cold waters, eats raw fish and hasn't talked to anyone in centuries.

Every riddle is followed by debates and every member of the crew offers up their own best riddles for the others to solve. It takes three evenings to get through the chapter. It's just as well; Stede fears Gollum's voice might tear his throat to ribbons. It's worth it though.

They make it out of the goblin labyrinths eventually. They meet Beorn and giant eagles and an elven king. They fight wargs, and spiders, and spend a night adrift in a river, clinging to a barrel.

It's a fantastic story. The dragon is terrifying; the hoard everything any of them have ever dreamed of. The attack on Laketown, and finally the Battle of Five armies, has more than one of them hold tightly onto someone's hand.

Opinions on the ending are divided.

"How can he just go home?", Frenchie says, offended. "After everything they've been through together!"

"He misses it", Olu says. "Must be nice, I think. To know there's a home for you to return to."

"Bullshit", Jim says, shifting inconspicuously, so they're sitting just a tiny bit closer to him. "Home can be anywhere. Home is where your - y'know." They do not blush.

"But Thorin died", Lucius says. "It wouldn't be the same without him, would it? Maybe he needs to go back so he isn't always reminded of him."

"That's so deep, babe."

"Thanks babe."

Stede reads the last poem and nobody tries to sing.

It's quiet when he finishes. Wee John sniffles, but only a little.

Luckily, there's that whole business with the auction and Bilbo being declared dead so they end on a high note.

The next evening, Stede tries to bring a different book, but nobody will hear it.

"Read it again!"

Stede protests, but only a little.

"C'me on", Ed says, "they love it. Please?"

Really, there never was a choice.

In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit.

#i'm joking about the sueing. thank you so much. didnt expect this to turn so long but its what it is #you have a lovely day/evening too depending on when you read this!#cakeeatingwingedcat #message #our flag means death #tolkien #i wrote a thing #oh yeah ed can read & thats a hill im wiling to die on thanks

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walviemort · 24 days

Text

Expecting a Secret [3/3]

Summary: After the events of 3x19, Killian is at his lowest after being rejected by Emma. When Snow’s labor turns out to be a false alarm, Zelena offers Killian a deal: she’ll leave the Charmings alone…if he gives her the baby she needs for her spell instead. There’s just one hitch: he has to keep it a secret. At least it will only take 10 days, right? a/n: Here’s the final part of my bday fic for @sancocnutclub !!! This is the full fic from the manip I posted last week. Hope you've enjoyed this little adventure! rated T | AO3 | 4.7k | part 1 | part 2

The next day was much of the same. Based on the book and his math, Killian was roughly around 32 weeks along—but found it hard to believe there was still time to go, based on his size. The new clothes he’d bought fit fine; it was just—so big, it seemed. His center of gravity had greatly changed and he felt terribly cumbersome. He didn’t think he was waddling yet, but he wasn’t moving with as much ease as he had just a few days ago.

He was just so keenly aware of all the changes going on within (and without, as he was reminded every time he passed a mirror—which was often) that he was losing in the effort to keep abreast of goings-on in the rest of town. Perhaps that was for the best; perhaps if he pretended he wasn’t here, others would forget as well and he could get through this without attracting any unnecessary attention.

He didn’t even draw the curtains to look outside, lest he risk anyone seeing him. But he didn’t need to open them to tell that it was a gloomy, overcast day; much the same as his mood. He was sore all over; it was impossible to get comfortable; the babe would not stop moving; and even the book he was trying to read couldn’t hold his attention (perhaps the title should have been Withering Heights instead).

Well, he was no stranger to brooding, so he gave himself over to that for the bulk of the day. By evening, he was in a terribly rotten mood that not even Oreos could soothe. He was looking forward to simply taking a bath—and hopefully getting some sleep—when there was a knock at the door. He sighed; he supposed that was inevitable—likely Granny ready to tell him off for all his pacing.

He cracked the door open enough to peek around and bit out a “What?” at his visitor.

“Jeez, I was just trying to invite you to dinner, not get my head taken off,” Emma rebuffed. “I thought this was Hook’s room; not Grumpy’s.”

“Ha,” he replied, unamused. “I’m afraid I’m still not quite fit for company.”

She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Okay, something’s up. You don’t usually avoid us like this.”

“Is a man not permitted his solitude at times?”

“Not when he’s being fucking weird. What aren’t you telling me?”

He nearly spat out the truth, but managed to close his mouth before he slipped. “Why does it matter?” he retorted. “I thought you couldn’t trust me.”

His heart nearly broke at the way her face fell at that; it was a low blow, but half his frustration came from trying to keep his distance. He hated keeping this from her, especially when there was a significant chance it was going to cause more trouble for her later. But he couldn’t risk more harm to her or her family.

“I told you—” she started, in a small voice, but he cut her off.

“Aye, well, I don’t quite believe it yet,” he said. “Don’t worry about me; just focus on the witch. Good night.” He punctuated the statement by firmly closing the door.

He waited for the sound of her footsteps to move away—and really hoped that wasn’t a sniffle he heard through the walls—before he himself stepped back from the door—and brushed away his own tears.

Then he shuffled off to the lavatory and began to draw a bath, though he knew it wouldn’t make him feel any better for being an utter arse to the woman he loved. But, hopefully, it would keep her at bay until he got through this.

He hissed as the babe then sharply connected with his ribs, seeming to chastise him just as much as he was already doing to himself. “I know,” he muttered. “I’m a bloody bastard.”

Two more days. He could do it—right?

—---------------------------------------------

A sudden jolt of pain woke Killian the next morning. He was ready to strike out at Zelena again, but when his eyes flew open, no one was there. And yet, the ache persisted.

His entire midsection, globe that it was, felt like the muscles were clenched—but he didn’t know how to relax them. He took a few deep breaths, which eventually worked, but his stomach still felt sore (or, at least, more sore than it already felt with its fairly rapid expansion). What the bloody hell was that?

The pregnancy book was sitting on the bedside table; he immediately reached for it to skim through. (He hoped Belle wouldn’t mind how dog-eared and beat up it was becoming.) He was at, what, 35 weeks now?

Ah, right—practice contractions. Lest he forget, birth still lay ahead of him. He massaged his rounded belly, saying a silent prayer that the babe within didn’t grow much more; he wasn’t sure entirely how the little one was to emerge, given that he didn’t have the traditional parts for it, but perhaps it would be easier on him if they remained on the small size.

The day continued on much like the previous had, although the practice contractions kept catching him by surprise; he yelped more than a few times at them.

After one, he did hear footsteps rush to, and then pause outside his door. He knew the sound of Emma’s gait by this point, and waited to see if she did anything, but the floorboards creaked as she inevitably walked away.

Rather than frustrated, he was simply mad at himself for how he handled that interaction with her last night—but it had at least worked, so that was one less thing for him to worry about over the next day or so.

The next novel from Belle was much more enjoyable, even if he dozed off in the middle of reading. It felt like he was constantly on the edge of sleep, but the pregnancy manual had implied as much when he was as far into the third trimester as he was.

He was once more on the cusp of a nap when a persistent rapping sounding at the door—much different, and more forceful, than Emma’s usual (surprisingly polite) taps. Hopefully, whoever it was didn’t hear the groan as he shifted to standing; his belly was starting to drift southward as the little one moved closer to resting on his pelvis, and he could tell by the way they were wriggling that they were starting to run out of room.

Which meant it was getting harder to keep his bump from view of the door; he had to prop his left forearm on the edge of the frame to support himself this time. “Dave,” he greeted, surprised, when he cracked it open. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

David, however, seemed less than thrilled to see him. He crossed his arms and leveled a rather fatherly stare at him. “To figuring out what the hell is up with you.”

“I’ve just been feeling under the weather,” he said, thankful that Emma hadn’t inherited her lie-detecting abilities from her father, even it was somewhat true.

“And that’s reason to be a jerk to Emma? Especially when, for the last few weeks, you couldn’t seem to stay away from her?”

“No, it’s not,” he conceded. “I…intend to apologize once I’m feeling better; hopefully in a few days.”

David’s expression didn’t change. “You know, her last couple of magic lessons haven’t gone well.”

That made his heart sink in a different way, and he swore the babe was kicking nervously. “No?”

“No. She hasn’t been able to do much of anything with it. I think we all know what that means.”

Killian swallowed; any chance of defeating the witch—of keeping this child, and the Charming’s, safe—depended on her magic, as much as he hated to put it all on Emma’s shoulders alone.

“Is…is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, knowing full well he’d be useless for a bit more.

“You can pull your head out of your ass!” David hissed.

“Beg your pardon?”

The prince huffed and stared at the floor. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, and she’d probably kill me for it, but the reason she’s been having trouble is you.” He looked back up. “You’re good for her, much as I hate to admit it, and whatever the hell this is you’re doing? She’s worried. So…figure it out.”

Before Killian could come up with any sort of reply—not that he had one ready—another practice contraction hit, and he curled in on himself a bit as he winced.

“Shit—are you okay?” David asked, trying to look around the door.

“‘M fine,” Killian waved off. “Or I will be. Just a—stomach thing.” (A rather large stomach thing that was also pressing on his bladder—again.) “Besides—it’s not like she plans on staying anyways,” he finally threw back.

“Maybe she needs a reason to,” David countered. “Take care of yourself.”

He turned around and left, but Killian remained slightly stunned. Eventually, he did have to shut the door and head to the toilet, but David’s words lingered in his head. “ You’re good for her .”

Bloody hell, he really had been too rash in his agreement with Zelena. He should have known his tendency towards self-flagellation would mess things up one of these days. But there was nothing to be done at this point than to see it through, and just pray he could apologize to Emma fast enough to help get them out of this disaster.

The baby kicked against his side, and his hand flew to the spot without thought. The more time he spent with this little passenger, the more he also was determined to save them. He wasn’t sure he was prepared to be a father, given the low success rate of his past attempts at it, but he’d be damned if he let any harm befall his—and whoever else’s—child. “I don’t know what lays ahead, little one, but I’m going to do my best to keep you safe, too,” he murmured to the bump—and just hoped he hadn’t told yet another lie.

Quite obviously, his mood fell from whatever relative high it had reached that morning to the lowest of lows once more, especially with the continuation of the practice contractions.

He was laying listlessly on the mattress that evening, tracing the babe’s movements with his hand, when he heard a gentle knock. But he wasn’t fit for company and the lights were off, so hopefully they assumed he was asleep.

Outside the door, he easily recognized the sound of Emma sighing. “I know you’re in there, even if you can’t hear me right now,” she said. “Probably passed out, if you’re still really feeling bad. But I…I feel like it’s not just that,” she continued. “I don’t know what I did to make you pull away. Okay, I know some of it, but—something else happened. I just wish I knew. Because I miss you,” she confessed to his closed door. “And I want to be with you again. Or hang out or whatever.” She sighed again and he thought he heard her forehead clunk against the wood. “Well now I really know you’re sleeping, because that would have gotten your attention if you were awake. Probably for the best.” She paused again, then added “good night,” and he heard her move across the hall to her own room.

He suddenly sniffed; bloody hell, these emotional shifts were getting tiring. But he hated— hated —that he was the cause for her emotional distress, and worse, that it might have bigger implications for everyone else, including his child. (Perfect time for a practice contraction to start, eh?)

He’d well and truly fucked this up.

So he gave into his heightened emotions, curled in on himself (which was no small feat—nor very quiet on Granny’s mattress), and cried himself to sleep.

———————————

Rising from the bed the next morning was the most arduous it had been yet—not just because of his babe’s consistent growth, or the practice contraction that had once again woken him, but his belly had also finally “dropped”, as the book said; the little one was well and truly resting on his pelvis, getting ready to make their escape—which could happen at any moment, most likely.

His nerves were constantly on edge, consequently. The baby seemed to echo it—or was just anxious to get out; he wasn’t sure. But honestly, if it meant keeping them safe until the witch was defeated, he’d rather they stay there—safe—even if he was horrendously uncomfortable.

Until another practice contraction hit and the babe shifted atop his lower pelvis. Never mind; he wanted them out.

But for the first time, he realized just how alone he’d be for it. David hadn’t left Snow’s side when they were in the hospital, and he knew it was common for women to have any number of supporters during the process. But if he was still to be keeping it a secret…

However, that was when he heard Emma’s door open across the hall. What if he just…let the door open? Just a crack? It wouldn’t be his fault if she ended up barging in, would it?

He waddled to the door and unlatched the bolt, then reached for the knob—only for it to disappear as soon as his hand neared.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Zelena’s voice called out. He whipped his head and lifted his hook, ready to strike, but she wasn’t in the room. “That’s cheating,” she went on, and finally he saw her: staring out from the standing mirror next to his dresser. “Surely you can sit on this for just a few more hours; you’ve definitely kept other secrets longer.”

“What if something goes wrong?” he countered. “What if the child needs medical attention, eh? You really expect me to do the rest of this unsupervised?”

“Psh, you’ll be fine—I made sure of it when I cast the spell,” she waved off. “Just try not to get too loud, alright?”

“You know there’s a werewolf downstairs, right? They’ll probably hear.” The odds that he got through the day without Granny yelling at him for all the creaking he was causing were already slim.

“Oh, you’re right.” She waved her hand, and the walls briefly glowed green. “Silencing spell. Yell all you want, then; no one will hear it. See you in a few hours, Captain.” And then she disappeared from sight, leaving his own sorry reflection staring back at him, looking tired and morose.

He sighed and shifted his weight from side to side, observing his reflection as he did. Perhaps his belly wasn’t quite as big as it felt, but it did protrude quite a ways in front of him, fully rounding out his stomach and resting heavy on his hips. While bracing his lower back with his left wrist, he lifted his shirt to properly view his belly. There were quite a few stretchmarks along its lower curve, and his belly button even stuck out. The little one moved then, and he could see the whole thing eerily shift as they did.

Perhaps Zelena’s interruption had been good for another reason: did he really want to subject Emma to this view? Even he barely wanted to look at it, even if it held some novelty. But the babe wriggled again and he pulled his shirt back down; he could feel it plenty—he didn’t need to see the alien-like sight in better detail.

There was only one thing left to do at this point. He went to the odd canister by the door (he believed Henry had called it an “umbrella stand”) and retrieved his sword from its scabbard. He flexed his fingers around the grip and rested his brace on the apex of his bump. “Well, little love, wish us luck; I’m going to do my damnedest to keep you safe.” He liked to imagine the subsequent kick was an affirmative response.

(Not for the first time, he also wished he had a way of contacting Smee; the man would have easily been able to slip the child away safely. But he had no idea what digits to use on his room’s telephone. Alas.)

As the day wore on, the practice contractions got more consistent—and stronger. He wasn’t entirely sure what would mark the start of labor, so he continued to alternate resting and pacing as they went on.

More than once, he caught himself on one surface or another as they increased in intensity; this must be it then. He tried to skim over this section in the book, but couldn’t focus long enough for it to be of any use.

So he breathed, and paced, and rested, and breathed, and paced, and rested, with sips of water and restroom breaks scattered in as needed.

By mid-afternoon (he thought, at least, based on the light outside), he was sweating hard, gripping the back of a chair for support. It felt like the child was nearly ready to come out, but there was one thing that hadn’t happened yet.

It came on his next restroom trip, thankfully: his water broke. He didn’t even bother putting his pants back on, and his shirt had long since been hiked up above his belly (there wasn’t much sense in keeping it on but he needed something for whenever the witch showed up).

“Alright, little one; let’s do this,” he murmured, shuffling back to the main room (and his sword). But he hadn’t gotten very far before the next—and strongest yet—contraction stopped him in his tracks, drawing a shout and forcing him to curl in on himself, catching himself on the back of the chair for support.

Which of course was when the door to his room flew open.

Emma stood, staring at him, mouth agape. “Oh…oh my god,” she eventually stammered.

“Swan, I…” he started—but how the hell could he explain it?

Shockingly, he didn’t have to. “They were right; you’re pregnant. Holy shit.”

“They?” he asked, panting.

“Belle,” Emma explained, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “And David. Just now—Belle mentioned the book you borrowed and my dad told us what happened when he saw you yesterday and—”

He didn’t mean to cut her off, but he yelled out as another contraction commenced. “You shouldn’t be here, love,” he said once his breath came back. “The witch—”

“Who gives a shit about her?” she said angrily, rushing to his side. “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything!”

“I cou—ahhh!” Any attempt at explanation was cut off by the sudden increased intensity of his labor. “Love, just—go,” he tried to argue, but there was no strength behind it.

Not that she would have listened. “Like hell I will. I am not leaving you to do this on your own. Just tell me everything after, okay?” He nodded. “Okay. Let’s have a baby.”

(He desperately hoped it was hers, cruel as that might be.)

She reached for his hand and guided him to sitting on the chair. “How long have you been going?”

“I don’t know,” he had to answer. “It’s all happened so fast.”

“Really? God, mine felt like it took forever.”

“No—all of it,” he clarified in between breaths.

“Wait—all?” she asked, placing her free hand on his belly.

“Aye,” he confirmed. “Just the last 10 days.”

“Shit,” she said, but it could have also been a reaction to the way he suddenly gripped her hand fiercely as yet another contraction came; they were incredibly close together now. “Um, Killian, I—I have to look—” She didn’t finish her sentence, but pointed downward.

He nodded again, though it was undoubtedly a terrifying sight. She took her own deep breath and knelt in front of where he was perched on the edge of the chair; her eyes went wide when she got a look. (This was so far from what he’d hoped her first encounter with his private parts would look like.)

“Oh wow, you’ve gotta push,” she said, in a slightly panicked tone. “I can see the head.”

“I can certainly feel it,” he answered, trying for some levity. But then the next contraction came and he found himself bearing down unwittingly.

“Just like that,” she coached. “I’m right here.”

“You really don’t have to be.” He was trying to give her an out.

“Hey.” Now she was the one squeezing his hand, intensity in her green eyes. “I want to be.”

He managed to crack half a smile before his body forced him to push again—and again, and again. Emma gave enthusiastic encouragements the whole time but he was just in so, so much pain.

“The head is out; you’re almost there!” she exclaimed, unfortunately having to take her hand back. “Just a few more—you can do it.”

He could, and he did—but he wasn’t quiet about it. But finally, the babe was out—and he was spent.

“It’s a girl,” Emma said softly, and the little one began to cry—but he didn’t dare look, and instead focused on catching his breath.

He could see enough to notice Emma pulling the little one to her chest and moving closer to him.

“Oh, Killian,” she cooed. “She’s perfect.”

He was sure she was, but he couldn’t look. He couldn’t see the babe, because if he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to let her go. And he quickly needed to build up the energy for a fight; his sword was sitting on the table next to him.

“Don’t you want to see her?” Emma asked softly. He just shook his head, feeling a tear crawl down his cheek.

“I can’t,” he murmured.

“Killian, what’s wrong? Do…do you not want to keep her?” There was no doubt that was giving her some unpleasant flashbacks of her own, even if it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Oh, no—I think he does, and that’s wherein the problem lies.” Zelena had arrived—and was gloating, but unphased by the way he was now staring daggers at her (but still decidedly not looking at his daughter—bloody hell, he had a daughter).

“Go to hell, witch,” he spat, reaching for his blade.

“Someday, yes, but not now. Now, I think I’ll be taking what's mine.”

“She’s yours?” Emma exclaimed, holding the baby tighter to her and casting a questioning glance between Zelena and Killian. (Gods, they hadn’t even had time to cut the umbilical cord yet.)

“Well, not ‘mine’ mine. Biologically speaking. She’s yours, really,” she said, gesturing at both of them.

Did she just say…? “Mine?” Emma asked, surprised.

“Yes, indeed. And what beautiful babies you make,” the witch said, coming closer. “If I can’t have a child of confirmed true love, then one of potential true love will just have to do.”

Summoning energy from somewhere unknown, Killian grabbed his sword and stood, leveling the blade at Zelena’s neck. “Don’t you dare lay a finger on her,” he growled.

“That wasn’t part of the deal, Captain,” she hissed. “Unless you’d care to explain to the in-laws why I still kidnapped their baby?”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Emma interrupted, and faster than either of them were aware—in a flash of white light—Zelena was on the floor—and her broach was in Emma’s hand (the one that wasn’t still holding tight to his—no, their —baby).

“No—no, no, no!” the witch cried, seemingly attempting to summon the pendant back—do anything—with her magic. “Oh, you’ll pay for that,” she roared, pulling the Dark One’s dagger out—but Killian struck out at her arm before she could summon the Crocodile, making her drop it, and then kicked it away.

The witch let out a shriek—but it was cut off by a cloud of grey-ish magic. “Fat chance of doing anything to us from the cells below the hospital,” Emma quipped, then turned to Killian. “Are you okay? What the hell is going on?”

“A long story,” he sighed as he relaxed, adrenaline fading just as fast as it had come, his sword clattering to the floor. “One I will gladly tell you shortly; just—can I—?” He hoped the way he was reaching towards the babe finished the question for him.

“Of course,” she said warmly, putting the little girl in his arms. And he finally got to look at her, and, oh—she really was beautiful. She’d calmed down a little bit, at least since Zelena had been dispatched, and was looking around the room with large eyes; he hoped she’d inherit Emma’s color there, seeing as she had clearly acquired Killian’s own pointed ears.

His body was beginning to tell him there were some things that hadn’t yet been dealt with; he held the little lass as Emma helped him through that. “You wanna tell me just what all this was now?” she asked, firmly but gently, once things were cleaned up.

“I was a bloody idiot,” he summarized, but told her everything else that had happened since the night at the docks. “Swan, I cannot apologize enough for being such a fool. But…I also don’t fully regret it.”

“I get it,” she said, running a finger over their now-sleeping daughter’s head. “And I’m sorry for making you feel like you had nothing else. But…I guess I can’t complain about the product either.”

For a long moment, they just stood there—the three of them, in awe over their new little blessing. Aside from the incredible ache he felt, it was near perfect—and he was finally able to breathe for another reason (and not just because the precious little toes in his cradle were no longer digging into his lungs).

“Congratulations, love,” he said.

“For what? You just did all the hard work.”

“You defeated the witch. You saved this one, your new sibling, all of us,” he explained. “That’s something to be equally proud of, if not moreso.”

She blushed. “Yeah, but in the moment, all I could think of was saving her—and you.”

“Me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you. Did you not hear what Zelena said?”

He had, but he didn’t dare acknowledge it. So he just nodded.

“My magic has never been stronger than it was just now—especially not earlier this week.”

“Aye, your father said as much.”

“You know why?”

He was starting to get the picture, but wanted her to say it.

She chose not to use words, but actions, and leaned toward his face.

“Hold on—the curse,” he said, regrettably pulling slightly away.

“It should have gone away with her magic,” Emma said, “and I don’t care anyways.” Then she insistently pressed her lips against his and, bloody hell, he couldn’t remember a sweeter, more meaningful kiss.

Though he would have preferred it not be cut off by a sudden interruption from the doorway. David stood at the now-open threshold, coughing (and clearly averting his gaze). “Granny said she heard some weird stuff and made me come check it out. I think I saw too much, though.”

Emma laughed; Killian tried, but it hurt his core. “Come on; I never thought I’d say this, but we need to get you back into some pants and get you two to the hospital.”

He passed the baby to her while he shuffled around to get dressed, and she caught up with her father, who thankfully drove them both to Storybrooke General.

Dr. Whale was shocked by the turn of events and insisted on keeping both Killian and his daughter overnight for observation; Emma stayed by their side the whole time. (And used her magic to accelerate his healing a bit…well, a lot, thankfully, though he wasn’t sure his midsection would ever be as firm as it once was.)

There was still a lot to deal with—emotionally, obviously, and they had to decide just what to do with Zelena; not to mention Snow giving birth still lay ahead.

But as he walked out of the hospital the next morning—with Emma in one arm and tiny little Alice Margaret Jones, wearing her little sailboat onesie, in the other—he knew it would all work out; maybe, just maybe, this could be their happy ending.

----------------------------------------

thanks for reading!!! tags: @wyntereyez @jennjenn615 @superadam54 @ashley-knightingale @justsomewhump @killian-whump @teamhook @mathiaskejseren @88infinity88

#cs ff #killian mpreg #killian jones ff #expecting a secret #my ff

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